received at the moment, and the exasperated troops put their prisoners to death, without mercy. The peaceful aspect of the place is better suited to its poetical associations. Navarino was the ancient Pylos, and it is here that Homer brings Telemachus in search of his father. He finds old Nestor and his sons sacrificing on the seashore to Neptune, with nine altars, and at each five hundred men. I should think the modern town contained scarce a twentieth of this number. Rounding the little fortified town of Modon, under full sail. It seems to be built on the level of the water, and nothing but its high wall and its towers are seen from the sea. This, too, has been a much contested place, and remained in possession of the Turks till after the formation of the provisional government under Mavrocordato. It forms the southwestern point of the Morea, and is a town of great antiquity. King Philip gained his first battle over the Athenians here, some thousands of years ago; and the brave old Minalis beat the Egyptian fleet in the same bay, without doubt in a manner quite as deserving of as long a remembrance. It is like a city of the dead-we cannot even see a sentinel on the wall. Passed an hour in the mizen-chains with "the Corsair" in my hand, and "Coran's Bay" opening on the lee. With what exquisite pleasure one reads, when he can look off from the page, and study the scene of the poet's fiction : "In Coran's bay floats many a galley light, It is a small, deep bay, with a fortified town, on the western shore, crowned on the very edge of the sea, with a single, tall tower. A small aperture near the top, helps to realize the Corsair's imprisonment, and his beautiful interview with Gulnare: "In the high chamber of his highest tower, Sate Conrad fettered in the pacha's power," etc. The Pirate's Isle is said to have been Poros, and the original of the Corsair himself, a certain Hugh Crevelier, who filled the Egean with terror, not many years ago. Made the Cape St. Angelo, the southern point of the Peloponnesus, and soon after the island of Cythera, near which Venus rose from the foam of the sea. We are now running northerly, along the coast of ancient Sparta. It is a mountainous country, bare and rocky, and looks as rude and hardy as the character of its ancient sons. I have been passing the glass in vain along the coast, to find a tree. A small hermitage stands on the desolate extremity of the Cape, and a Greek monk, the pilot tells me, has lived there many years, who comes from his cell, and stands on the rock with his arms outspread to bless the passing ship. I looked for him in vain. A French man-of-war bore down upon us a few minutes ago, and saluted the commodore. He ran so close, that we could see the features of his officers on the poop. It is a noble sight at sea, a fine ship passing, with all her canvass spread, with the added rapidity of your own course and hers. The peal of the guns in the midst of the solitary ocean, had a singular effect The echo came back from the naked shores of Sparta, with a warlike sound, that might have stirred old Leonidas in his grave. The smoke rolled away on the wind, and the noble ship hoisted her royals once more, and went on her way. We are making for Napoli di Romania with a summer breeze, and hope to drop anchor beneath its fortress, at sunset. LETTER XX. The Harbor of Napoli-Tricoupi and Mavrocordato, Otho's Cabinet Counsellors-Colonel Gordon-King Otho-The Misses Armanspergs-Prince of Saxe-Miaulis, the Greek Admiral-Excursion to Argos, the Ancient Terynthus. NAPOLI DI ROMANIA.-Anchored in the harbor of Napoli after dark. An English frigate lies a little in, a French and Russian brig-of-war astern, and two Greek steamboats, King Otho's yacht, and a quantity of caiques, fill the inner port. The fort stands a hundred feet over our heads on a bold promontory, and the rocky Palamidi soars a hundred feet still higher, on a crag that thrusts its head sharply into the clouds, as if it would lift the little fortress out of eyesight. The town lies at the base of the mountain, an irregular looking heap of new houses; and here, at present, resides the boy-king of Greece, Otho the first. His predecessors were Agamemnon and Perseus, who, some three thousand years ago (more or less, I am not certain of my chronology), reigned at Argos and Mycenae, within sight of his present capitol. Went ashore with the commodore, to call on Tricoupi and Mavrocordato, the king's cabinet counsellors. We found the SUMMER CRUISE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN. 181 former in a new stone house, slenderly furnished, and badly painted, but with an entry full of servants, in handsome Greek costumes. He received the commodore with the greatest friendliness. He had dined on board the Constitution six years before, when liis prospects were less promising than now. He is a short, stout man, of dark complexion, and very bright black eyes, and looks very honest and very vulgar. He speaks English perfectly. He shrugged his shoulders when the commodore alluded to having left him fighting for a republic, and said anything was better than anarchy. He spoke in the highest terms of my friend, Dr. Howe (who was at Napoli with the American provisions, when Grivas held the Palamidi.) Greece, he said, had never a better friend. Madam Tricoupi (the sister of Prince Mavrocordato) came in presently with two very pretty children. She spoke French fluently, and seemed an accomplished woman. Her family had long furnished the Prince Hospodars of Wallachia, and though not a beautiful woman, she has every mark of the gentle blood of the east. Colonel Gordon, the famous Philhellene, entered, while we were there. He was an intimate friend of Lord Byron's, and has expended the best part of a large fortune in the Greek cause. He is a plain man, of perhaps fifty, with red hair and freckled face, and features and accent very Scotch. I liked his manners. He had lately written a book upon Greece, which is well spoken of in some review that has fallen in my way. Went thence to Prince Mavrocordato's. He occupies the third story of a very indifferent house, furnished with the mere necessaries of life. A shabby sofa, a table, two chairs, and a broken tumbler, holding ink and two pens, is the inventory of his drawing-room. He received us with elegance and courtesy, and |