We had given directions to be taken to the Hotel of the Cross of Malta--_L'Albergo della Croce di Malta_, and when the carriage stopped, we got out with the expectation of being at our destined domicil. No sign, however, of a hotel was visible, and one of our party began to make an accompaniment to the noise of the wind by storming a little at the postillions for not obeying his orders,--when the courier informed us that we were as near as the vehicle could get to the house, as it was located in a street hard by, too narrow for any but pedestrians. This position of one of the principal hotels of a city denominated _la superba_, appeared singular enough, and with our ideas of its superbness somewhat diminished, we followed the man a short distance up a lane in which two persons could scarcely walk abreast, until we reached the door of the establishment, whose aspect was not particularly inviting, in despite of its towering altitude. Our fears, however, as to the manner in which we might be accommodated, or rather unaccommodated, were soon put to rest, when we mounted the spacious stairway, and were ushered into a suite of apartments which to the simplicity of an American, republican eye, wore an air of absolute magnificence. What a difference there was between the first aspect of things in this our Hotel of the Cross of Malta, and that which is presented in the places of entertainment for man and horse in the United States. Instead of being ushered into a bar-room filled with the fumes of whiskey and tobacco, crowded with boots to be blackened, decorated with "tintanabulent appendages" innumerable, {84} and affording palpable evidence in every way that the establishment is as much entitled to the motto, "e pluribus unum," as the government of the country itself, we were received at the portal by a single domestic and conducted to our rooms without seeing or hearing the slightest indication that any other "mortal mixture of earth's mould" besides ourselves, was in the house. And then the difference in the appearance of the apartments! The recollection of the closets or pigeon holes, styled chambers by the courtesy of our mother tongue, so limited in their dimensions, that like the cell of the poor Hibernian, in which he "did nothing but walk up and down," you cannot "stand in them at all," furnished with a bed, a wash-stand, two chairs, and a looking glass, in which you may see one moiety of your face at a time, if you exert yourself with sufficient industry, did not certainly excite any very lively regrets, as we gazed on the spacious apartments glittering with mirrors, the walls and ceiling frescoed and gilded _ad unguem_, mantles supported by sculptured goddesses, chairs and lounges covered with damask, and beds so richly curtained and attired, that it seemed as if one could scarcely sleep in them, for thinking of the luxury in which he was reposing. The hotel was formerly a palace, whose glories, in part, it still retains.