The convent is small and very simply constructed; the courtyard behind it, on the contrary, is exceedingly imposing.  It is shut in on all sides by steep walls of rock, covered with clinging ivy in a most picturesque manner.  On the left we find a little grotto containing an altar.  In the foreground, on the right, a lofty gate, formed by nature and beautified by art, leads into a chapel wonderfully formed of pieces of rock and stalactites.  A feeling of astonishment and admiration almost amounting to awe came upon me as I entered.  The walls near the chief altar are overgrown with a kind of delicate moss of an emerald-green colour, with the white rock shining through here and there; and in the midst rises a natural cupola, terminating in a point.  The extreme summit of this dome cannot be distinguished; it is lost in obscurity.  Here and there natural niches occur, in which statues of saints have been placed.  To the left of the high altar I saw the monument of St. Rosalia, beautifully executed in white marble.  She is represented in a recumbent posture, the size of life; the statue rests on a pedestal two feet in height.  In the most highly-decorated or the most gorgeous church I could not have felt myself more irresistibly impelled to devotion than in this grand temple of nature.

From the 15th to the 18th of July in every year a great feast is held in honour of St. Rosalia, the patron saint of the city, in the town and on the mountain.  On these days a number of people make a pilgrimage to the grotto above described, where the bones of the saint were found at a time when the plague was raging at Palermo.  They were carried with great pomp into the town, and from that moment the plague ceased.

The road from the convent to the temple, built on the summit of a rock, and visible to the sailors from a great distance, leads us for about half a mile over loose stones.  Its construction is extremely simple, and not remarkable in any way.  In former times its summit was decked by a colossal statue of the saint.  This fell down, and the head alone remained unmutilated.  Like the statue, the fane is now in ruins, and its site is only visited for the sake of the beautiful view.

On our way back to the convent, my guide drew my attention to a spot where a large tree had stood.  Some years before, a family was sitting quietly beneath its shade, partaking of a frugal meal, when the tree suddenly came crashing down, and caused the death of four persons.

The excursion to St. Rosalia’s Hill can easily be made in four or five hours.  It is usual to ride up the mountain on donkeys; these animals are, however, so sluggish, compared with those of Egypt, that I often preferred dismounting and proceeding on foot.  The Neapolitan donkeys are just as lazy.

I wished still to visit Bagaria, the summer residence of many of the townspeople.  One morning I drove to this lovely spot in the company of an amiable Swiss family.  The distance from Palermo is about two miles and a half, and the road frequently winding close to the sea, presents a rich variety of beautiful pictures.