The next day we went together, to another country house, or villa, owned by Countess Shrech!osa; there was not a single Englishman with us; all the guests were natives, or Itamians, and Mr. Furman and his wife, Rusue. Countess Preciosa's garden is vast and enchanting, and there are of course such plants on the entire island. Here I found trees as thick as plane trees, orbha and chestnut trees; even a palm tree bearing fruit! You might think that you are walking in Malaya Azsh. The hostess loves flowers, and there are a lot of them. Glacinths and tuberoses of excellent 29 beauty; The rose bushes are so tall that they are used to make bunkhouses in which we drank tea and Flea ice cream. I had the most enjoyable evening! FWithout the English The Maltese are cheerful and talkative. When we returned to the rooms, the concert began. Ifli artists of the Italian Opera. Ms. Furman condescendingly agreed to participate in the concert, and sang the song from Bellineva Norma superbly: her voice is charming! Lastly, I heard from the famous composer Donizetti, in Naples, that he compared it with the voice of the late Malibran: only the art of the voice was different. At our musical evening, the first singer of the local opera, Madame Darbois, a sweet and pretty Frenchwoman, also very nicely appeared. It's a pity that her breasts are edible; It even seems to me that there was a germ of consumption in her.
PoslB Aeriki and Azsh; How I was delighted by the educated European society. This small circle: to the island5 of Malta again returned me to Europe, where I was soon to see all the splendor of the world, to Naples, Rome, Florence and finally Paris. My last review of the island was dedicated to the house of industriousness: a useful and humane institution that Malta owes to the English! The house of hardworking was established for DEVIN in good condition and for sports. His noble goal: to preserve their morality and then ensure your existence with a decent marriage, or let’s think about going to a good home. I found there about two hundred dfvits, from ten to twenty years old. Their supervision is quite strict; but keeping them beautiful, clean, disgusting. Everything that can contribute to maintaining health is carefully observed. They have enough food. and well made, the beds are neat, and they are wearing thin linen. The girls are engaged in various jobs related to their floors: spinning, weaving paper, weaving patterned fabrics, embroidering, weaving lace and blonds, unwinding silk, even making shoes. All their work is sold to benefit the house. Those who excel receive awards, which are given to them only upon graduation. The Law of Combat and pure morality are the main subjects of their teaching and upbringing. They are released from this institute only after marriage, or when a decent revenge has been sought. I was very surprised when I found out that the maintenance of each DFW costs no more than a hundred rubles a year. Of course food is inexpensive in Malta; but the pupils are well paid, and the mentors and teachers receive large salaries, and there is no shortage of anything. It would be desirable that in other lands, in similar institutions, they take an example from this: it does honor to the British and its current director, Mr. Casalani, especially since it completely corresponds to its purpose. An opportunity made me decide to go to Sicily and inspect part of this famous island. The steamer Ferdinand 1st was being repaired and was soon to depart there; and from Messina in five days another ship was supposed to go to Naples, on which I could cross to solid ground. A day before my departure, I found the Greek Church where the priest of our Genovdan, Sitsimyanen, lived. I ordered a meal and prayed in the church alone. The priest knew little Greek, there were no sextons and priests, and he read to me, in a quick, fluent manner, about the Day of the Day, after which he invited me to his place, saying that he had images of rare Greek painting. What was that? Five or six old icons, it seems, from Suzdal writing; on two of them the inscriptions were Slavyanek1ya. The priest offered the myth to buy them, and was very upset by my refusal: the old man was counting on a little profit! He lived with his family very meagerly: he had no parishioners, and he lived on alms from the Greek ships that came to Malta. As much as I could, I rewarded his deceived expectations by giving him ten Neapolitan ducats (), which he seemed to be very pleased with.