our cigar as it curled amid the leaves, and the lizards as they crept and glided amid the huge old stones; when suddenly there stood before us a young Greek, perfect in form and feature as an Antinous, wild and savage as a colt of the Ukraine. Curiously he eyed us and our costume; more curiously still his eye fell on the fragments which lay beside our wallet. With the benevolence of a full-fed man we threw him a bone of lamb. He clutched it eagerly, eyed it suspiciously, smelt it as monkeys do when in doubt, bit at it cautiously at first, then snatched three or four mouthfuls hurriedly and greedily, then threw up his hands and shouted in ecstacy, then return ed to the attack, and proceeded to tear off every morsel until the bone was whiter and more bare than our trusty Ponto-best of polisherscould have left it. We thought, at fit, that we were witnessing the ravenings of hunger, but there was more of novelty than of craving in the young savage's delight; and the truth then dawned upon us that we were looking on a creature, genus homo, who had tasted flesh for the first time. The fact was a phenomenon to us, who, though not so voracious as the piper's son, yet heard in our consciences the lowings and bleatings from a sort of small Smithfield which had been sacrificed to our appetite. There are meals again of this kind which we remember as the direst needs of necessity. Such was a supper, in a Welsh cottage, on dry oatmeal-cake and buttermilk,—in a Portuguese venda on a greasy dish of carne di porco,- in an Irish skibbereen-house, on cold potatoes and salt. Rye-bread and raw saltfish would not look tempting in a bill of fare; and a loaf well drenched with oil, and studded with garlic, which we once shared with a Sicilian boatman, made a meal which we would not repeat except under the most urgent circumstances Philosophers say that no man is so bad but some good may be found in him. So say we of food. The cuisine of no country is so utterly wretched but it will furnish forth a good meal. If thy stomach reject oil and garlic, and thou lovest not ollas, pucheros, maccaroni, cabbos, or pilans, are there not ever eggs? the first and last resource of the wayfarer — eggs boiled? eggs fried? eggs roasted? eggs poached? — are there not swine in almost all lands? and what man, be he neither Jew nor Mahommedan, ever dared to turn up his nose at bacon or ham? Are there not, too, especially in southern and eastern climes, vege tables fresh and succulent, fruit rich and luscious, and which, lying, as we have seen them heaped up together in marketplaces, with the green leaves shading the bright brilliant colours, seem to be the very riches of the earth? And is there not bread, the staff of life? Bread we have ever found tolerable, from_the_crisp, light, delicious roll of the St. Petersburg hotel, to the unleavened cake which the Syrian bakes against the side of his stone oven, and then folds over his arm as provision for a journey. We would except the black bread of the north; even the most uncompromising Spartan might be justified in making a wry face at that. In one thing we would advise thee, brother of the staff-be simple in thy drinks! Eschew compounds! Vex not thy stomach nor vitiate thy palate with such unnatural mixtures as cobblers, juleps, dog's-nose, et hoc genus omne. Half-and-half, or, as the French call it, marriage, may be an exception. We would not prescribe thy beverage, but only say, let it be simple. Milk, which perhaps thy soul loveth, is poison to us; and the tea, which refreshes and soothes us, might be mawkish to thy palate, and drive sleep from thine eyelids. Water is the natural drink of man. Need any one thirst when there are springs and fountains welling from the bosom of the earth? Granted. We respect the water-drinker, and envy the man who, at any pump or well, can find a joy which we pur chase dearly in coins and headache over champagne and claret; but we must confess, in all humiliation, that we never took kindly to water, and prefer it ever dashed with sherry or eau-de-vie. At first we thought it might be the modus bibendi, and that if we could only hold up the pitcher or jar as the Arab or Spaniard does, we struck across the cane fields toopen our mouth and let the pure wards it. The first part we chanced liquid flow down our throats in a on was an outhouse, where a group full stream, that we might become a of male niggers, with shout and water-drinker. After several trials, noise and gesture, were heaping and however, in which we flooded our heaving stalks of cane into the jaws bosom, and were half choked, we of a mill, whilst their dusky, were obliged to admit the failure. white-teethed, thick-lipped, broadWhether the fault be in our organisa- footed mates danced and laughed tion or in circumstances, we know and chattered as the juice spouted, not. Yet how delicious the draught foaming, tossing, and bubbling, into to the herdsman of the sierra, or the the reservoir beneath. The shade, horseman of the desert, as it seems the gurgling sound, the white frothto fall on his parched throat and ing stream, were in themselves a rebaked clay like rain on the earth. lief, but there was still a deadly Orangeades, lemonades, orgeat, and drought upon us, when a nigger adice juices, are nice enough, but more vancing, and waving the brim of a worthy of loiterers in cafés and on hat, said "Drink, massa," accompanyprados than of one who with his ing the proposition by the pantomime foot takes possession of the earth, of a turn of the hand and a sputtering and the secret places thereof. If we in the throat. We nodded-away must drink for luxury, let it be of Amontillão pure and ripe by our fireside, When autumn's skies are chill and drear, he ran to the house, and forthwith returned with a goblet out of which Polyphemus might have toped. This was held under the spout, until the liquor fell creaming, sparkling, and tumbling into it, and over it, and was then presented to us. The drink was new to us, and we sipped at first sparingly, but the cool gentle influences gradually widened our lips, until our throat became a free channel for a full draught. "Ha, ha," said our nigger, "hear how him friz!" Our comrade repeated the experiment, and we conscientiously recommend to wayfarers under like circumstances this same resource of cane-juice, as sustaining, innocent, and refreshing. of Lafitte, ruddy and cool, when summer breezes and summer scents breathe upon us through open windows, and we care not if it appear even in a black bottle, with a wet rag around it—of (let it not go beyond thine ear, oh brother pilgrim) whisky punch, screaming hot, and mixed, as the wife of our bosom alone can mix it, when winter nights are long, and winter nights are keen -of coffee, as French and Turks make it of Spanish chocolate, stirred and sipped delicately with a long thin biscuit. There have been, too, Once again, on the eve of a hot improvised drinkings, quenchings of day in Greece, we found ourself in thirst, and ticklings of the palate, extremis on the plains of Olympia. which we regard rather as excep- Not only were our mouth and tional cases than as rules. A scene tongue dry, but our whole frame in the West Indies stands forth as a pricked and ached under the pressure little oasis in our annals of thirst. of heat. Our guide was more than We were tramping along the hard frantic. He had howled, tumbled dry road in Barbadoes. The tropic his fez, smitten his bosom, and gessun was pouring its full tide upon us ticulated most wildly for some miles, —not a leaf, or tree, or shade, shel- when suddenly he dashed forward, tered our heads from the noontide made a somerset over a fence, tumheat; our lips grew hot, our throats bled head-over-heels into a little parched, so that our attempts to troll patch of green, which we had long a nigger melody ended in broken eyed wistfully, and there lay grovelquavers, like the turns of a decayed ling. Suddenly we saw the flash of a hurdy-gurdy. Water, or wine, or knife, heard a squash and a gush, brandy, would then have been fever, and then sobbings and sputterings, death. In our extremity we espied as though one were drinking hard, a plantation-house in the distance- and stopping to breathe at whiles. Alexander said once, that sleep was one of the things which remind ed him that he was human. We must confess that we have ever hailed this symptom of our humanity without remorse or mortification. Nature's sweet restorer has been ever kind to us, and has visited our couch, whether we were roughing it on a sofa, swinging in a hammock, immersed in down, lying on a soft plank, or stretched on nature's naked bosom, not coyly or wantonly, but with a free and chaste embrace. We are not squeamish as to the places, but are particular as to the times. We cannot sleep with the sunlight falling full upon us. Our first night on a house-top in Palestine, we remember well, was sleepless. Our soul refused to shut itself out from the sight of the heavens which shed the glory of moon and star upon it, and from the music of the silence, the solemn stillness, which dwelt on the earth around. Suspecting somewhat, we followed that though in the night we might his example, and soon found ourself have fancied ourself the Prodigal buried to the head and ears in a water- tending swine, and feeding on husks, or melon. Brother pilgrim, do not the Tantalus straining after water-springs, like! Ere night we repented, not in we arose in the morning with a clear sackcloth and ashes, but in colic and head and cool palate, ready for the blue-pill, the rashness of our thirst. breakfast of grapes, figs, bread, and Beside these droughty quenchings chocolate which awaited us. may we not place one palatal tickling-not a rollicking debauch, but a little simple bout, which we indulged in then without remorse, and remember now without repentance? The streets of Cadiz are hot and sultry, as all who have been there must know. We had trodden them, picture-hunting, church-seeing, glovebuying, and, though not athirst, felt that irritation of flesh and spirit which coolness, rest, and drink can alone soothe. We were seeking some house of refuge when a friend met us. Well versed was he in the ways of the city; he heard our wants, took us by the elbow, and led us up and down, in and out, until we came to an underground passage; down this we dived, a door opened at the foot, and we found ourselves in a vaulted cellar, 'mid a strange smacking of lips, guttural utterances, puffing of smoke, and a mist of forms. Presently the confusion cleared away, and we saw, around little tables placed on rude tressels, men who, if they were not robbers or contrabandistas, there is no longer faith to be placed in physiognomy, belief in melodramatic exhibitions, nor is there truth in Borrow, Ford, or Irving: all were eating, drinking, talking, smoking. We sat down at one of the tables, and presently a fat host, without sign or summons, set before us a little plate with slices of spiced sausage, rolls of crisp bread, tall glasses, and a bottle. Following the cue of our company, we placed the slices of sausages between the bits of bread sandwichwise, then poured out the wine, and let it trickle slowly and gently over our palate. It was Muscadel-not the nauseous stuff thou drinkest under that name in England brother! but the juice itself of that delicious grape, luscious, rich, and cool. We care not to say how much sausage we ate, how often the glasses were emptied, or the bottle appeared and disappeared; yet we know, We were more successful once on a hard table at Sidon. Though conscious at times of groans and moans from our comrade and bedfellow, we only awoke to a sense of his distress in the morning, when we saw his face bitten and swollen out of all shape and comeliness. We had escaped the torturers, but the enemies were in close contiguity, and hung in thick clusters to the ends of our flannel waistcoat. Verily, if it be true that the king of fleas keeps his court at Jaffa, he must have a well-accredited ambassador at Sidon-a very Stratford de Redcliffe. The greatest aggravation on our power of sleep befell us at an inn in Ireland. After a wretched supper and some bad whisky we retired sullenly to our chamber. It was not inviting; the furniture was scanty, the jug wanted a handle, the basin was cracked, a bit of soap lay in the half of a saucer. In the corner, however, was a sight which compensated -- for all, a large four-post bed, capacious and old-fashioned; it seemed the very home, the very bower of sleep. Into it we leaped, and rolled about in very wantonness, when lo! down went one side with a heavy lurch; we turned, and up we went again. Had we been in southern climes, we should have thought of trap-doors and sliding pulleys, but here we rightly guessed it to be a Cosa Hibernica; so out we jumped to investigate the phenomenon. Our bed had only three legs. When well poised, it stood upright and steady, but the slightest move upset the balance; and thus we passed the night in a see-saw sleep, dreaming of Margery Daw, and other individuals who had been unfortunate in the bed line, until morning. Why prate so much of eating, drinking, and sleeping? Why? save that they are essentials to the man who goes afoot. He who eats healthily, drinks healthily, sleeps healthily, will see healthily, think healthily, feel healthily. It is thus that body and spirit act together. Turn we next to the operations of the spirit-to the things which should be seen and felt; and then, if thy patience hold out, brother pilgrim, we will go on to sketch some of the pictures-no, that is too large, too pretentious a word-some of the vignettes and border-work which illustrate our memories of travel. BOTANY AND BRIGANDS IN GREECE. Ir was whilst wandering in the in fact but little known, its author solemn shade of Stamboul's cypresses that we first received, from the rosy lips of a charming Hellene, advice to read Edmund About's volume on Cotemporary Greece. It was very pleasant and contained much truth, the fair daughter of Athens assured us. It was very candid of her to admit so much, for the book conveys a most unfavourable impression of her countrymen. Every one has read it now, either in the original or translated. Let any who have not, read it at once, preferring the original, for M. About is a writer of much esprit, and that subtle French essence evaporates in the English version. Not all the Gteeks, it seems, are so tolerant of blame, and ready to admit their failings, as our amiable Athenian. They love not to be chidden, however justly, nor can abide the castigat ridendo mores; unless indeed money is to be made by it, for, for money what is there they will not do or endure? M. About's book, as he has since intimated, drew down upon him reprimands, contradictions, and even abuse. Nevertheless it was in Greece that its truth was most generally recognised. In certain other countries, where the social and political condition of Otho's kingdom is has sometimes been set down as an exaggerator. In London and Paris his work was found curious and interesting; in Athens alone, and by those who know Athens well, has its truth been fully appreciated. "The improbability of our civilisation protects us against the discontent of Europe," says a Greek personage in a subsequent work of M. About's. " "Fortunately for us, whatever truth is written against us will always be too violent to obtain belief." The halo cast round resuscitated Greece by Byron and other enthusiasts still partially blinds the world to her true value and condition. People refuse to be convinced that the resuscitation has been that of a putrid corpse, not of a young and healthy nation springing from the ashes of its ancestors in all the freshness and vigour of a new birth. The delusion begins, however, to be dissipated. All Europe cannot visit Greece; but the Greeks, clever and indefatigable chapmen and traders, spread themselves over Europe, and carry to the nations the conviction and proof that they are the most unscrupulous and perfidious of existing races. On every Exchange, from Galata to London, their reputation is established, Le Roi des Montagnes. Par EDMOND ABOUT. Paris, 1857. Alexander said Suspecting somewhat, we followed that though in the night we his example, and soon found ourself have fancied ourself the F buried to the head and ears in a water- tending swine, and feeding on melon. Brother pilgrim, do not the Tantalus straining after wat like! Ere night we repented, not in we arose in the morning sackcloth and ashes, but in colic and head and cool palate, blue-pill, the rashness of our thirst. breakfast of grapes, fi Beside these droughty quenchings chocolate which await may we not place one palatal tickling-not a rollicking debauch, but a little simple bout, which we indulged in then without remorse, and remember now without repentance? The streets of Cadiz are hot and sultry, as all who have been there must know. We had trodden them, picture-hunting, church-seeing, glovebuying, and, though not athirst, felt that irritation of flesh and spirit which coolness, rest, and drink can alone soothe. We were seeking some house of refuge when a friend met us. Well versed was he in the ways of the city; he heard our wants, took us by the el- but bow, and led us up and down, in and W out, until we came to an underground fa passage; down this we dived, a door o opened at the foot, and we found ourselves in a vaulted cellar, 'mid a strange smacking of lips, guttural ut terances, puffing of smoke, and mist of forms. Presently the c fusion cleared away, and we around little tables placed on tressels, men who, if they wer robbers or contrabandistas, t no longer faith to be placed i ognomy, belief in melodrams bitions, nor is there truth i Ford, or Irving: all w drinking, talking, smoki down at one of the ta sently a fat host, wi summons, set before 1 with slices of spice of crisp bread, tal bottle. Following company, we pl sausages betweer sandwichwise, t wine, and let gently over on cadel-not 1:|:ཀྱི ོང |