daughters, whose virtues he had watered and dug about? He communed with himself, and then with humble prayer put his petition before his God. The answer came; it filled his soul and pervaded his spirit. Home, friends, family, wife, children,

-all resigned, he was now, though advanced in

years, returning to stay by his fold. This was true greatness within that lowly form was great nobility.

The gallant vessel glided on; sunshine and warmth clothed us, and we seemed, as we turned east, to leave clouds and cold behind. The coast of Spain, wild and green. How altered now, the spot! Trafalgar Bay, over whose smooth waters our vessel glides, once re-echoed the thunders of war; there the flag now floating at our peak sealed its preeminence; thence went forth, in fire, the herald sound that owned our Sovereign, Lord of the Seas.

Clouds hung over Africa; Calpe's hill was covered to the base, as we cut the smooth bay of Gibraltar. Owing to some mistake in our bill of health, we were not admitted to pratique, sorely to the disappointment of several of our passengers; so, except one gaze at the lion of the Straits,

ANCHOR AT MALTA.

7

we passed on, encountering a heavy easterly gale
as we entered the Mediterranean.
Few now

appeared at breakfast, fewer at dinner; the
youngsters deplored their lot, and one young
cadet begged me to give him my advice, whether
801. per annum was not better in England, than
a soldier's career in India, with this as part of it,-
the good ship dashed through the gale, and again
the heavens smiled on us as we neared Malta.
Etna (10,800 feet high), was plainly visible on
our port beam, a mighty peak with snowy cap;
the coast of Africa, rugged and rocky, on the
other.

The whole beauty of spring was on us as we anchored in Malta. Here all rushed on shore. I had often visited it before, but it seemed to me cleaner and more quaint than of yore-more picturesque, more peculiar in itself. The mixture of warlike defences with Eastern comforts; * the stiff bastion and shaded arbour; the dread array

1

*The Eastern reclines on the cushioned divan, the embodiment of repose; the softest carpets, the freshest flowers, surround him-soft women attend the slightest motion of his eye-all breathes of indolence, abandonment, and ease; yet his girdle bristles with arms-his gates are locked and guarded. So at Malta, the bower is a bastion, the saloon a casemate, the serenade the call of martial music, the draperies warflags, the ornaments shot in ready proximity.

THE MALTESE POPULACE.

of war; the Eastern lattice-all form a contrast peculiar to Malta, and are characteristic of its former lords. I visited the noble cathedral of St. John, but could not remove from my mind the impression of former years. It is ponderous and sombre, the columns heavy, and the arabesque tawdry. The mausoleum to the brother of Louis Philippe, put up since my last visit, is handsome : it represents a young man in a half military dress reclining on his arm, and an open scroll in his hand. The face and figure are well and naturally executed.

Though but the beginning of spring, the weather was warm enough to make us gladly take refuge in the cool room at an inn, which was happily situated; for we heard the band playing opposite the palace, as we ate an excellent dinner, and its flat terrace-roof commanded a very good view of the grand Plaza. Here, it being Sunday, the whole population were sauntering up and down. There were the lower classes of Maltese women, in their black faldetas; the European in bonnet and gay colours; the scarlet soldier the blue sailor; the variegated Highlander; the swarthy Arab; the disdainful Moor; the pompous Turk; the furious Italian; the stealthy priest; the

FATE OF PADRE RYLLO.

9

swaggering Frank; the white-faced German ;—and all passing beneath us, as if for our peculiar pleasure.

Few places, either, can match Malta for the various nations, and quaint costumes, that throng its crowded streets. If the eye wearies of the living scene, our terrace afforded views of other life on the flat roofs of the town, with their different parties; here whispering love, there screeching scandal. Beyond, the sea lay calm and still, save where cats'-paws of wind ran like a road upon its lifeless plain; vessels rested motionless on its surface, their sails reposing noiselessly. Sicily appeared blue and distinct in the distance, and a heat-line alone marked the most distant horizon.

In the evening I walked to the Florian gardens, calling at the Jesuit's house on my way. In answer to my enquiries for my old friend, Padre Ryllo, I was informed he had gone to rest-the sad history of his death I did not hear till long afterwards. Well-born, polished, and clever, he was courted by all classes. Recalled from his foreign mission, he resided for some time at Rome. Here he entered freely into the best society of the place-a linguist, scholar, and gentleman, he shone

a star of the first magnitude. One evening, returning from a brilliant party, he received an order to start for Abyssinia immediately before six months had worn on, he died amidst its fetid jungles of starvation.

We embarked, and were off at midnight. Another set of passengers: introduction, acquaintance, familiarity. As before, we met a strong breeze, and in two days were off the coast of Greece-a fine, bold, rocky coast, with cold, bleak snow on its higher ridges-and now history, poetry, and tradition rise before us; each spot is a volume, each glimpse a story

"Could'st thou forbode the dismal hour which now,

Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?

Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain :

But every carle can lord it o'er thy land;

Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,

From birth till death enslaved; in word, in deed, unmann'd."

For what is Greece? A puppet nation, with the fiction of law, but without its force.

Fast revolve the paddles; we dash by Mitylene and Tenedos, Troy and Olympus, each mound in view the grave of a hero, each spot bears a sacred Lemnos, with its snowy mountains is fading, and now we enter the Boghaz, and stay our

name.