presence of the crew. He certainly has caught the "trick of royalty" in its perfection.

The guard presented, the boatswain " piped us over the side," and we pulled alongside the Russian. The file of marines drawn up in honor of the commodore on her quarter deck, looked like so many standing bears. Features and limbs so brutally coarse I never saw. The officers, however, were very gentlemanly, and the vessel was in beautiful condition. In inquiring after the health of the ladies on board our ship, the captain and his lieutenant rose from their seats and made a low bow—a degree of chivalrous courtesy very uncommon, I fancy, since the days of Sir Piercie Shafton. I left his imperial majesty's ship with an improved impression of him.

They are a gallant-looking people, the Greeks. Byron says of them, "all are beautiful, very much resembling the busts of Alcibiades." We walked beyond the walls of the city this evening, on the plain of Argos. The whole population were out in their Sunday costumes, and no theatrical ballet was ever more showy than the scene. They are a very affectionate people, and walk usually hand in hand, or sit upon the rocks at the roadside, with their arms over each other's shoulders; and their picturesque attitudes and lofty gait, combined with the flowing beauty of their dress, give them all the appearance of heroes on the stage. I saw literally no handsome women, but the men were magnificent, almost without exception. Among others, a young man passed us with whose personal beauty the whole party were struck. As he went by he laid his band on his breast and bowed to the ladies, raising his red cap, with its flowing blue tassel, at

the same time with perfect grace. It was a young man to whom I had been introduced the day previous, a brother of Mavromichalis, the assassin of Capo d'Istrias. He is about seventeen, tall and straight as an arrow, and has the eye of a falcon. His family is one of the first in Greece; and his brother, who was a fellow of superb beauty, is said to have died in the true heroic style, believing that he had rid his country of a tyrant.

The view of Napoli and the Palamidi from the plain, with its back ground of the Spartan mountains, and the blue line of the Argolic gulf between, is very fine. The home of the Nemean lion, the lofty hill rising above Argos, was enveloped in a black cloud as the sun set on our walk, the short twilight of Greece thickened upon us, and the white, swaying juktanillas of the Greeks striding past, had the effect of spirits gliding by in the dark.

The king, with his guard of lancers on a hard trot, passed us near the gate, followed close by the Misses Armansperg, mounted on fine Hungarian horses. His majesty rides beautifully, and the effect of the short high-borne flag on the tips of the lances, and the tall Polish caps with their cord and tassels, is highly picturesque

Made an excursion with the commodore across the gulf, to Lake Lerna, the home of the hydra. We saw nothing save the half dozen small marshy lakes, whose overflow devastated the country, until they were dammed by Hercules, who is thus poetically said to have killed a many-headed monster. We visited, near by, "the mills," which were the scene of one of the most famous battles of the late struggle. The mill is supplied by a

lovely stream, issuing from beneath a rock, and running a short course of twenty or thirty rods to the sea. It is difficult to believe that human blood has ever stained its pure waters.

Left Napoli with the daylight breeze, and are now entering the Hermionicus Sinus. A more barren land never rose upon the oye. The ancients considered this part of Greece so near to hell, that they omitted to put the usual obolon into the hands of those who died here, to pay their passage across the Styx.

Off the town of Hydra. This is the birthplace of Miaulis, and its neighbor island, Spesia, that of the sailor heroine, Bobolina. It is a heap of square stone houses set on the side of a hill, without the slightest reference to order. I see with the glass, an old Greck smoking on his balcony, with his feet over the railing, and half a dozen bare-legged women getting a boat into the water on the beach. The whole island has a desolate and sterile aspect. Across the strait, directly opposite the town, lies a lovely green valley, with olive groves and pastures between, and hundreds of gray cattle feeding in all the peace of Arcadia. I have seen such pictures so seldom of late, that it is like a medicine to my sight. "The sea and the sky," after a while, "lie like a load on the weary cye."

In passing two small islands just now, we caught a glimpse between them of the "John Adams," sloop-of-war, under full sail in the opposite direction. Five minutes sooner or later we

should have missed her. She has been cruising in the archipelago a month or two, waiting the commodore's arrival, and has on board despatches and letters, which make the meeting a very exciting one to the officers. There is a general stir of expectation on board, in which my only share is that of sympathy. She brings her news from Smyrna, to which port, though my course has been errant enough, you will scarce have thought of directing a letter for me.

Anchored off the Isiand of Egina, a mile from the town. The rocks which King Eacus (since Judge acus of the infernal regions) raised in the harbor to keep off the pirates, prevent our Learer approach. A beautiful garden of oranges and figs close to our anchorage, promises to reconcile us to our position. The little bay is completely shut in by mountainous islands, and the down upon us, unabated by the "wooing Egean wind.'

sun pours

LETTER XXII.

The Maid of Athens-Romance and Reality-American Benefactions to Greece-A Greek Wife and Scottish Husband-School of Capo d'Istrias-Greciar Disinterestedness-Ruins of the most Ancient Temple-Beauty of the Grecian Landscape-Hope for the Land of Epaminondas and Aristides.

ISLAND OF EGINA.-The "Maid of Athens," in the very teeth of poetry, has become Mrs. Black of Egina! The beautiful Teresa Makri, of whom Byron asked back his heart, of whom Moore and Hobhouse, and the peet himself have written so much and so passionately, has forgotten the sweet burthen of the sweetest of love songs, and taken the unromantic name, and followed the unromantic fortunes, of a Scotchman!

The commodore proposed that we should call upon her on our way to the temple of Jupiter, this morning. We pulled up to the town in the barge, and landed on the handsome pier built by Dr. Howe (who expended thus, most judiciously, a part of the provisions sent from our country in his charge), and, finding a Greek in the crowd, who understood a little Italian, we were soon on our way to Mrs. Black's. Our guide was a fine, grave-looking man of forty, with a small cockade on his red сар, which indicated that he was some way in the service of the government. He laid his hand on his heart, when I asked him if he