The first thing I did after taking up my quarters here was to hasten to a church to return thanks to the Almighty for the protection He had so manifestly extended to me upon my long and dangerous journey.  The first church which I entered at Lavalette was dedicated to St. Augustine.  I was particularly pleased with it, for since my departure from Vienna I had not seen one so neatly or so well built.  Afterwards I visited the church of St. John, and was much struck with its splendour.  This building is very spacious, and the floor is completely covered with monumental slabs of marble, covering the graves of the knights.  The ceiling is ornamented with beautiful frescoes, and the walls are sculptured from ceiling to floor with arabesques, leaves, and flowers, in sandstone.

All these ornaments are richly gilt, and present a peculiarly imposing appearance.  The side-chapels contain numerous monuments, mostly of white marble, and one single one of black, in memory of celebrated Maltese knights.  At the right-hand corner of the church is the so-called “rose-coloured” chapel.  It is hung round with a heavy silk stuff of a red colour, which diffuses a roseate halo over all the objects around.  The altar is surrounded by a high massive railing.  Two only of the paintings are well executed—­namely, that over the high altar, and a piece representing Christ on the cross.  The pillars round the altar are of marble; and at each side of the grand altar rise lofty canopies of red velvet fringed with gold, reaching almost to the vaulted cupola.

The uncomfortable custom of carrying chairs to and fro during church-time, which is so universal throughout Italy, begins already at Malta.

The predilection for the clerical profession seems to prevail here, as it does throughout Italy; I could almost say that every fifteenth person we meet either is a clergyman or intends to become one.  Children of ten or twelve years already run about in the black gown and three-cornered hat.

The streets are handsome and cleanly kept, particularly the one which intersects the town; some of them are even watered.  The counters of the dealers’ shops contain the most exquisite wares; in fact, every where we find indications that we are once more on European ground.

When we see the Fachini here, with their dark worked caps or round straw hats, their short jackets and comfortable trousers, with jaunty red sashes round their waists, and their bold free glance,—­ when we contrast them with the wretched fellahs of Egypt, and consider that these men both belong to the same class in society, and that the fellahs even inhabit the more fruitful country, we begin to have our doubts of Mehemet Ali’s benignant rule.

The governor’s palace, a great square building, stands on a magnificent open space; next to it is the library; and opposite, the chief guard-house rears its splendid front, graced with pillars.  The coffee-houses here are very large; they are kept comfortably and clean, particularly that on the great square, which is brilliantly illuminated every evening.