relics of their distant conquests, almost perfect after eighteen It seems as if the foot-print of a Roman were

hundred years.

eternal.

We stood out of the little bay, and with a fresh wind, ran down the coast of Dalmatia, and then crossing to the Italian side, kept down the ancient shore of Apulia and Calabria to the mouth of the Adriatic. I have been looking at the land with the glass, as we ran smoothly along, counting castle after castle built boldly on the sea, and behind them, on the green hills, the thickly built villages with their smoking chimneys and tall spires, pictures of fertility and peace. It was upon these shores that the Barbary corsairs descended so often during the last century, carrying off for eastern harems, the lovely women of Italy. We are just off Otranto, and a noble old castle stands frowning from the extremity of the Cape, We could throw a shot into its embrasures as we pass. It might be the“ Castle of Otranto," for the romantic locks it has from the sea.

We have out-sailed the Constellation, or we should part from her here. Her destination is France; and we should be to

morrow amid the *Isles of Greece. The pleasure of realizing the classic dreams of one's boyhood, is not to be expressed in a line. I look forward to the succeeding month or two as to the

d-letter" chapter of my life. Whatever I may find the aity, my heart has glowed warmly and delightfully with the anticipation. Commodore Patterson is, fortunately for me, a scholar and a judicious lover of the arts, and loses no opportunity, consistently with his duty, to give his officers the means of

*It was to this point (the ancient Hydrantum) that Pyrrhus proposed to build a bridge from Greece—only sixty miles! He deserved to ride on an elephant.

examining the curious and the beautiful in these interesting seas. The cruise, thus far, has been one of continually mingled pleasure and instruction, and the best of it, by every association of our early days, is to come.

LETTER XVIII.

The Ionian Isles-Lord and Lady Nugent-Corfu-Greek and English Soldiers-Cockneyism-The Gardens of Alcinous-English Officers-Albanians-Dionisio Salomos, the Greek Poet-Greek Ladies-Dinner with the Artillery Mess.

THIS is proper dream-land. The "Isle of Calypso,"* folded in a drapery of blue air, lies behind, fading in the distance, "the Acroceraunian mountains of old name," which caught Byron's eye as he entered Greece, are piled up before us on the Albanian shore, and the Ionian sea is rippling under our bow, breathing, from every wave, of Homer, and Sappho, and "sad Penelope." Once more upon Childe Harold's footsteps. I closed the book at Rome, after following him for a summer through Italy, confessing, by many pleasant recollections, that

"Not in vain

He wore his sandal shoon, and scallop shell."

I resume it here, with the feeling of Thalaba when he caught sight of the green bird that led him through the desert. It lies open on my knee at the second canto, describing our position, even to the hour:

*Fano, which disputes it with Gozo, near Malta.

SUMMER CRUISE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN.

165

"'Twas on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve

Childe Harold hailed Leucadia's cape afar;

A spot he longed to see, nor cared to leave."

We shall lie off-and-on to-night, and go in to Corfu in the morning. Two Turkish vessels-of-war, with the crescent flag flying, lie in a small cove a mile off, on the Albanian shore, and by the discharge of musketry our pilot presumes that they have accompanied the sultan's tax-gatherer, who gets nothing from these wild people without fighting for it.

The entrance t Co. is considered pretty, but the English flag flying over the forts, divested ancient Corcyra of its poetical associations. It looked to me a common-place seaport, glaring in The "Gardens of Alcinous" were here, but who could imagine them, with a red-coated sentry posted on every corner of the island.

the sun.

The lord high commissioner of the Ionian Isles, Lord Nugent, came off to the ship this morning in a kind of Corfiate boat, called a Scamparia, a greyhound-looking craft, carrying sail enough for a schooner. She cut the water like the wing of a swallow. His lordship was playing sailor, and was dressed like the mate of one of our coasters, and his manners were as bluff. He has a fine person, however, and is said to be a very elegant man when he chooses it. He is the author of the "Life and Times of John Hampden," and Whig, of conrse. Southey has. lately reviewed him rather bitterly in the Quarterly. Lady N. is literary, too, and they have written between them a book of

tales called (I think) "Legends of the Lilies," of which her ladyship's half is said to be the better.

Went on shore for a walk. Greeks and English soldiers mix oddly together. The streets are narrow, and crowded with them in about equal proportions. John Bull retains his red face, and learns no Greek. We passed through the Bazar, and bad English was the universal language. There is but one square in the town, and round its wooden fence, enclosing a dusty area, without a blade of grass, were riding the English officers, while the regimental band played in the centre. A more arid and cheerless spot never pained the eye. The appearance of the officers, retaining all their Bond street elegance and mounted upon English hunters, was in singular contrast with the general shabbiness of the houses and people. I went into a shop at a corner to inquire for the residence of a gentleman to whom I had a letter. "It's werry 'ot, sir," said a little red-faced woman behind the counter, as I went out, "perhaps you'd like a glass of vater." It was odd to hear the Wapping dialect in the "isles of Greece.” She sold green groceries, and wished me to recommend her to the hofficers. Mrs. Mary Flack's "grocery" in the gardens of Alcinous.

"The wild Albanian kirtled to the knee," walks through the streets of Corfu, looking unlike and superior to everything about him. I met several in returning to the boat. Their gait is very lofty, and the snow-white juktanilla, or kirtle, with its thousand folds, sways from side to side, as they walk, with a most showy effect. Lord Byron was very much captivated with these people, whose capital (just across the strait from Corfu) he visited once.