I mentioned this to Vandy when he was deploring the
ignorance and, as he thought, the impiety of the Sicilians. We are
not entirely free from superstition ourselves, and were in the
last generation where the Sicilians are in this.
The scene in "The Tempest," the enchanted isle, must have been in
the neighborhood of Sechelia, and surely no fitter region in all
the world could be found; indeed I found sweet Sechelia so
enchanting that I voted it the very spot, and selected my
Prospero's Cave on the glittering shore within sight of Mount
Etna.
* * * * *
BAY OF NAPLES, Thursday, March 20.
Early morning! Yes, my dear friends, it is round. Here stands
Mount Vesuvius in full view this morning, making for itself pure
white clouds of steam, which float in the otherwise clear,
cloudless sky of Italy. No entering the crater now as we did
before, for the volcano is no longer at rest. Vandy and I shake
hands and recall our pledge made in the crater years ago, and say,
"Well, that is now fulfilled, and may life only have for us in its
unknown future another such five months of unalloyed happiness
(save where the dark shades of death among friends at home have
saddened the hours) as those we have been so privileged to enjoy."
It is well never to be without something to look forward to, and
speculate upon; and by a happy chance Vandy and I have hit upon
our next excursion, when we shall have earned another vacation by
useful work.
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