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"Every one, says a foreign journal, which by accident I have just laid hands on, " knows that the famous Nelson was blind of one eye. Few, however, know, we believe, the cause of this misfortune and the place of the accident. Moreover, biographers and encyclopaedists differ on the subject. The Biographie des Contemporains and the Dictionnaire de la Conversation assure us that it was before Calvi, in the Island of Corsica, when he commanded the Agamemnon, which formed part of the squadron of Sir Charles Stuart, that Nelson was struck by sand and gravel in the eye. The American Cyclopaedia and Appleton's Cyclopcedia declare that the accident took place in the waters of Bastia. They both advance an error which we are happy to have it in our power to rectify, at the same time bringing to light an act of courage and boldness altogether unknown on this side the Atlantic.

"About the year 1780, Nelson cruised in the waters of Spanish America, with the official object of taking soundings in this part of the New World, but really for the purpose of opening up in the country new channels for English commerce, then under a ban, and to do the Spanish colonies all the possible injury he could. In the execution of this duty, Nelson arrived at the mouth' of San Juan de Nicaragua, mounted the stream in flat-bottomed boats filled with sailors and marines, and came within sight of the fort San Carlos, the goal of the expedition. With an energy and activity which were salient points in his character, he took the necessary dispositions to carry the place by storm. The Spanish garrison, trembling with fear, even before the first shot was fired, refused to fight and abandoned the defences, resolved to evacuate the fortress. The governor, seriously ill, was unable to offer the least resistance to this cowardly determination. Fortunately, the governor had a daughter in whose breast beat the heart of the immortal heroines of Saguntum and Numantia.

"Dona Kafaela Mora rushed to the ramparts ; at a glance, and with a clearness of comprehension worthy a consummate soldier, she surveyed the situation. She saw the guns pointed and charged, but without any one to serve them, the wall dismantled by their defenders, and the English flotilla, at some cable's length, advancing resolutely. Her decision was taken in an instant. Seizing one of the lighted matches which had fallen from the trembling hands of the fugitives, she applied the torch to all the cannons pointed towards the stream. Her success surpassed all expectation. One of the balls struck the boat in which was the commander, who, wounded in the left eye by a fragment, fell back into the arms of the sailors. The flotilla, deprived of its chief, descended the stream as fast as oars could impel it, and regained the ships, which immediately after quitted those coasts. The Fort San Carlos thus escaped certain capture; Dona Rafaela covered herself with glory, having saved the honor of her father, as well as that of the Spanish arms; and Nelson was blinded.

"The narrative of this deed, perfectly authentic, is preserved in the archives of the town of Granada,

in the State of Nicaragua, the present presdtnl rf which is Don Thomas Martinez, a descendant of a heroine. Dona Rafaela behaved like a soldier: it received a soldier's reward. A royal decree aunsi her captain on active service, and conferred Bjxe her the right to wear a uniform and imngM At annual pension was also granted her."

PIG'S NO —NO!

"Travellers visiting the Pope1! dominion* flhooU be TNT onh! not to brim' forbidden books or Colt's revolvers with them, tk car torn-house officers having strict orders to confiscate them, iad I: if not always possible to recover them after the ovnerf bate left tk Roman States. Porbldden bookl are those condemned tiv Ux do

gregsitioM of the Index, books on religion or morality in teaera^p*tical and philosophical works of every description, »od am especially Italian religious tracts published in Ixmdon. B*. «to« all, travellers should be careful not to bring English, Italian, a other Bibles with them, the Bible being strictly prohibited."-Hi. Odo Russkll to Lord Clabkndojt.

"From our dominions we exclode —
(Urbis et orbis Papa vindex)

All Colt's revolvers, and that brood
Of Satan — books named in the Index.

"Books on the Church (St. Peter's mystery),
The State (St. Peter's principality);

Books upon politics and history,
Books on religion and morality.

"Tracts, one and all, but chief therein
Such as are in Italian written,

And printed in that seat of sin
And hold of heresy, Great Britain.

"Above all, ye, of every nation
Who seek the sacred soil of Rome,

Be warned, if ye 'd 'scape confiscation,
Your Bibles must be left at home.

"No matter what the tongue or text is,
By whom translated, when, or where;

The Bible upon no pretext is

Allowed to pass St. Peter's Chair."

Wise Pope — that Peters seat guard's! well,
'Gainst heretics' invasion free —

With the dove's innocence how well
The serpent's wisdom shows in thee!

While Popes remain doubfs sole resolveis,
Sole founts of truth, sole whips of sin,

What use in keeping out revolvers,
If Revolution's self's let in?

What all the Colts that e'er exploded,
All Garibaldi's guns and swords,

To the live shells, time-fused and loaded,
Between the plainest Bible boards?

What Revolution into ruins

So like to hurl St Peter's Dome,

As God's word gauged with Papal doings,
The Bible face to face with Rome?

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BURIED ALIVE.

There is something dreadfully uncomfortable in the feeling with which one reads the recent debate in the French Senate on the report of the committee on a petition by Dr. Cornol, for an extension of the Code Civile in the matter of ante-burial ceremonies. The French law is exceedingly tiresome in all that relates to the conveyance of corpses from one place to another, and indeed in everything connected with death, so that if an Englishman is by any misfortune charged with conducting the last rites for a friend or relation who has chanced to die in France, he will find it about the most annoying piece of business he has ever had anything to do with. It is nothing of this kind, however, against which Dr. Cornol has petitioned, for in all probability a Frenchman accustomed to paternal government may not feel its solicitudes in season and out of season to be 60 much a gene as a less profusely governed man does. The law requires that twenty-four hours shall elapse between death and burial, and the minimum thus fixed Dr. Cornol declares to be not nearly sufficient, — a declaration which he supports by numerous instances of suspended animation, showing that he has good ground for his opinion that a large number of persons are annually buried alive in France. No subject would provide a more ghastly theme for the pen than this, and there is a fascination about it against which men like Edgar Poe have not been proof.

The whole question is in itself sufficiently striking, but a dramatic effect was produced in the Senate when the matter was brought before that body, such as very few assemblies in the world have had an opportunity of witnessing, — an effect which might have appeared in one of the elder Dumas's more dashing and improbable novels, but would certainly up to this time have been held to be scarcely legitimate in ordinary works of fiction. M. de la Gueronniere, in presenting the report, argued against the petition, and proposed to shelve it by the technical motion to proceed with the order of the day. Thereupon, his Eminence the Cardinal Archbishop of Bordeaux rose and expressed his dissent from the Vicomte's conclusion. In the first place, he declared that the precautionary regulations of the law were very frequently evaded in practice, but the strength of his argument was, that even if strictly carried out they were wholly insufficient. He had himself, while yet a cure, saved several lives about to be sacrificed to the indecent haste of survivors. He had seen a man taken from his coffin and restored to perfect health. Another

man, of advanced years, had been already put in the coffin, and yet lived for twelve hours after. Moreover, he had performed in his own person a miracle such as would have given him a good chance of becoming a canonized saint had he lived in the Middle Ages, when people believed in the continuance of miraculous power. He had seen the body of a young lady laid out for dead, the attendants covering the face as he entered, but allowing him to observe so much as convinced him that the maiden was not dead, but slept. Thereupon, with a loud voice (how Scripturally it runs), he cried out that he was come to save her. He adjured her to feel convinced that by an effort she could shake off the lethargy which oppressed her, and could return to life. His voice reached her numbed sensations, she made the effort, and has lived to be a wife and mother. This very remarkable account throws light upon the miracles of early times. Thus when Empedocles, the philosopher, got the credit of restoring to life a deceased woman (see the story told by Diogenes, Laertius, and others), there can be little doubt that the person whom he saved was suffering under one of the various forms of coma to which all nations have given so many different names, and to which we ourselves, in common parlance, rightly or wrongly, do the same. It is as well to add, in passing, that, although this remark might apply equally well to the case of the damsel whom the words "Talitha Kami" brought back to life, that miracle was only one out of a very large number, to the majority of which no such explanation could apply. But his Eminence had a more striking instance to adduce. A young priest fell down dead, as it was supposed, while preaching in a crowded church on a sultry day, about forty years ago. The funeral bell was tolled, the doctor came and examined him in the perfunctory official style, much in the same way as the two inspectors at Hull examined the fatal six hundred head of diseased cattle in three hours and a half, and certified that he was dead, all in the dead man's full hearing. Then came the measuring for the coffin, the De Profundis recited by episcopal lips, accompanied by the intense agony of one who was conscious of the preparations that were being made for his own burial. At length some one present spoke, whose voice the dead man had known and loved from very early years. A chord was touched which galvanized the frame, the corpse rose up, and became once more a living soul. Such stories are to be found in many story-books, and probably few of the Archbishop's audience were not familiar with something of the kind as the result of their reading at an age when the marvellous and the horrible have a peculiar fascination for the mind. But there was something in the speaker's manner which led them to suppose that it was no ordinary tale that was being told in their presence, and they hung upon his further words: "That young priest, Gentlemen, is the same who is now speaking before you, arid who, more than forty years after that event, implores those in authority not merely to watch vigilantly over the careful execution of the legal prescriptions with regard to interments, but to enact fresh ones in order to prevent the recurrence of irreparable misfortunes."

It is satisfactory, really, to run such a story to earth. We have never felt quite clear about the truth of the dreadful stories that are told of facts observed, and the horrible suggestions of unknown terrors to which these facts give rise. Every one has heard of the lady whose ring tempted a servant to violate her tomb, and even to endeavor to bite off the finger from which it refused to be drawn, the shock of which brought back the dead woman to life and consciousness. And there is that ghastly scene where corpses are laid out in full dress, with wires in their hands connected with bells, so that the smallest motion of the muscles would summon an attendant. And a tale is told of a corpse suddenly rising up from the bed on which it was laid out, terrifying the watcher so that she fled half-fainting, and the reanimated body was left without assistance and once more died, this time completely. The horrors of being buried alive are so manifest and manifold that it is almost unnecessary to point out how such a death has been reserved as a punishment for the direst offences only. Vestal virgins with broken vows and nuns ^convicted of nnchastity are among the most ordinary examples, their offence being held to be the most heinous conceivable under the peculiar circumstances of their position. And the ancient Goths, texts Blackstone quoting Fleta, buried or burned alive indiscriminately for a peculiar crime, peccalum illurl liorrlbile inter Christianas non nomtnaitdum, as the reticence of the English law styled it in indictments.

Calmet, in his dictionary, states that so did the Jews, and in the earliest edition of his work is an engraving of the procedure, among those horrible engravings of ten or twelve sorts of punishment inflicted by that nation, of which many remain even in the later editions, such as putting under harrows of iron, and scraping with claws of iron, and hurling from the tops of towers. Nay, so lately as the year 1460, a very barbarous period, the punishment of burying alive was inflicted in France upon a woman named Perrete Mauger, who had been convicted of many larcenies and was buried alive, by order of the Maire d'Estoutevillc, before the gibbet in Paris. So at least the "Chronique Scandaleux " says in one of its opening paragraphs, though an English version of that curious piece of history reads burned nlicc for eitjouyt toute vice. And at Ensbury, in Dorset, there is a tradition that many veal's ago a man was put quick into the earth as a punishment, buried up to the neck, a guard preventing any from rescuing or feeding him till death relieved him. The Irish rebel, Shane O'Neil, used to get right after drinking himself drunk with usquebaugh by a like process, being placed upright in a pit and covered with earth to his shoulders, by which means, says Holinshcd, his body, being "extremely inflamed and distempered, was recovered to some temperature."

There are several very remarkable instances, or

snpposed instances, of burial during suspended animation to be met with in history. One of the* which attracted great attention long ago was tkat of Duns Scotus, known as the Subtle. Bacon ha given the story of his death an existence among Ib by stating that Scotus was buried while rafferin; from a fit to which he was subject, in the ahieme of his servant and of all who knew that such fca were periodical with him. The story, as told bj Abrahamus Bzovius, is to the effect that when fc servant returned, he at once declan-d that his mater hail been buried alive; and on opening tk vault, the corpse in gradibus mauxolfi ilecoratis mi<ibii.i repertum fuLise, which it is as well not to construe. The Brother Lucas Waddingns, in the tiinl book of his Annals, argues, much to his own «3tLfaction, that this could not possibly have been the case, and for the sake of the Subtle Doctor we are fain to agree with him. The same sort of ston is told of Boniface VIII., the enemy of Pbilip nf France, though in the hands of the fiercer Ghibellines, it took the form of determined suicide. Ht old annals state that being buried alive «*»m manuum dcvorasse, et caput adparietcm «/i*iwf.'bat in Tosti's Life it is stated that, at the exhumati* of the body, more than three hundred years after (Boniface VIII. died in 1303,) it was found wb*. without any marks of violence. The most dreadful story of all is that of the Emperor Zeno Imuto.« famous by reason of his Hcnoticon, who was sublet! to attacks of coma, and while undergoing one « these attacks was put in the mausoleum by hiwife, Ariadne and kept shut up there till he difJ. although his cries could be plainly heard by tbe attendants. It is evident, from comparatively ancient and from modern history alike, that the po*ibility of persons being buried alive has always been before men's minds, and the French Senate hswisely determined to consider the petition of Df. Cornol.

KALAVARDA.

About eight o'clock A. M. on one of the numerous Greek Jete days, a motley crowd was assemliM in our street, — solemn Turk, careless Greek. °k°quious Jew, our cavass with important beanns(ireck women with kerchiefed heads and queer little bundles of children in their arras, bronzed mulettw with whip in hand, standing by their sturdy oiks whose headbands of shell-work had a gay effect.

A bright morning as usual, and a cheery part.1' preparing to start for Kalavarda, our sumptcr mult in front laden with all sorts of things, including; a; crinoline, carefully secured in a bag. The link people were gathered round to watch our going off. Primrose on my knee, on mule-back till the List anment. Away we went on clumsy country saiiJki that baffle description; away through the narro" streets, friendly faces, kindly voices, wishing us gwl speed.

Leaving the town behind, erelong we entered on a narrow winding path, huge overhanging w*-< obliging us to bend low on our saddles as we jlo*'.1 passed beneath them; such unshapely rocks tlu; seemed as if a touch could hurl them on our JwtOn the hillside to our left, and down into the -** on our right, were scattered those enormous tf111' glomerate blocks which have been detached fr'm the parent rock during some of those fearful earthquakes with which this island has been so often aw so fatally visited.

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The sun became intensely hot; but .a pleasant breeze from the sea prevented our being altogether stifled.

A new scene awaited ns in the beautiful vale of Trianda with its fertile gardens and fine trees all around, olive, fig, mulberry, terebinth, and the myrtle with its glossy leaves, giving us welcome shelter from the burning sun.

The church at Trianda is simple, the village picturesque, many of its houses dating back to the time of the Knights. Almost every house has a graceful little turret attached to its upper story; handsome women looked out from the windows, laughing children stood in the door-ways, bunches of bright red pomegranates hung high on many of the cottage walls. Being a fete day, brought out the good villagers in their best; they stood smiling as we passed, while a forlorn Turkish woman, who had crept out to meditate in her garden, seeing our cavalcade approach, hastily pulled her yashmac over her face, and waddled away, taking care, however, to secure some parting peeps at us. Trianda might be called the Brighton — the Portobello — of Rhodes, if one can compare those busy watering-places to a spot where the railway-whistle is replaced by the muleteer's "urn—um—um—um," and where the postman's knock is unknown.

After passing the village of Kremasto, where plump fowls were sunning themselves at the cottage doors, the ruins of an ancient knighty castle, and Villanuova, founded by Helion de Villeneuve, one of the grand masters, we alighted, spread a Turkish mat, aud lunched beside a sparkling fountain, under the friendly shade of a magnificent platane-tree. As it was a fast-day, the muleteers had a humble repast of watermelons and bread, the mules feeding meekly ncarthera. Beside the fountain were grouped many villagers, fine men, good-looking women and » girls, whose brilliant kerchiefs were placed over tneir heads and fastened under the chin in a homely style; little boys with glittering teeth and sparkling eyes. Almost all those villagers had the same type of countenance. Most of the women and girls had gorgeous African marigolds in their dark liair. They brought us fresh figs and golden marigolds; the former we ate, the latter we women fastened, village fashion, in our hair, and thus bedecked, again addressed ourselves to our journey.

On, on through long desolate plains, hills rising afar-olT to our left, the tideless sea to our right. Now and again, one of those blessed roadside shelters — vaulted stone buildings, with a fountain, generally, at one end, and ample room for wayfarers to rest awhile — brought this verse to my mind, — " And there shall be a tabernacle for a shadow in the daytime from the heat, and for a place of refuge, and for a covert from storm and from rain." Isaiah iv. 6.

Occasionally we met a few peasants mounted like ourselves. At one place, a country woman joined our party for an hour or more. Herds of cattle sheltering themselves under the spreading Valonia and gloomy Carouba, bore a great resemblance to the Alderney breed; but I doubt their possessing the thirty points of a good Alderney. The pasturage was wretched. A strange sound broke the silence. Looking round to the left, we descried at some distance, on the ground, great gray vultures, and hovering in the air were more of those ominous birds of prey. What brought them to that lonely spot?

On we journeyed, by grotesque olive and gnarled juniper trees, by rose, laurel, and wild mastic, on

by solitary cottage nooks with their green patch of garden, over dry watercourses that make rapid brooks in the rainy season, on by the little village of Tholo or Soloas,* where we were thankful again to dismount, and rest under our neighbor's figtree. A peasant woman, in a dress of thick white calico, brought us water to drink, for which we paid. Our broad straw hats were scarcely shelter enough from the intense heat of the sun, as we continued our route by barren brown wastes, by parched shrubs, and plants that love the sea-shore. At a turn of the road, we came upon a little brook, almost hidden by a clump of old trees. Here we watered our mules with bent heads, as the straggling branches threatened to carry of!' our hats at least.

The rest of our party had gone by boat to Kalavarda, and occasionally we Trad a glimpse of the caique beating against the wind.

In the early part of the day we passed the lepers' huts. Those unfortunate people have a few wretched cottage.-!, and a garden by the wayside, and are kept apart from the rest of the world. On passing, one of our party placed a few pieces of money on a little Greek altar at the end of the path leading to the cottages. As we moved away, a leper stole timidly to the spot for the little offering. Standing in the garden, and dressed in rusty black, another of those miserables, a woman, stood gazing, at us, as we rode slowly on. God help them! there is no Saviour on earth now to heal them with a word!

In misgoverned Rhodes, little is done to help the poor and wretched. Unhappy island, where of old stately forests, waving corn-fields, and fruitful orchards filled the land} where Phoenician ships floated in the ports, where Greek temples crowned the hills, and where the great men of Rome delighted to retire for study and repose. With the knights of St. John died away the lingering glory of Rhodes. The inhabitants, faulty though they be, — and who would lay the whole burden of blame on them, with their illiterate priesthood, their grasping rulers ? — have no inducement to better their lot by cultivating their fields, by engaging in commerce, by the introduction of anything that would improve agriculture, or encourage manufacture. A spirit of enterprise, & love of industry, immediately calls forth tor fresh taxes, for fresh exactions and injustice.

Thus does the Moslem trample on the people, and ruin the land he conquers, and thus does he lay the foundation of his own ruin, ere many generations pass.

As -we drew near Kalavarda, the church-bells welcomed us with a joyous peal, and bright-eyed women and smiling children gathered round, and accompanied us over the braes, and across a broad torrent-bed, that must make a noble river when the rain falls, till we alighted at " Les Baraques." You must come to Kalavarda ere you can realize its peaceful beauty, its freedom from care and worldengrossing vanities. "Ici on ecoute le silence."

Nestling beneath a picturesque hill, where sweetscented herb and luxuriant shrub vie with each other in decking its rugged side, are two small wooden houses, a draw-well, a tent, a hammock suspended beneath the branches of an old fig-tree, and an iron stove in the open air. Overshadowing this primitive house are noble platanc and fig trees; a

• Theologos Is the proper name, 10 culled. Guerln tell) us, from the theologian, St. John the HvuugcllU, to whom the church here

gigantic vine, after twisting round the platanc and clambering up the hill, has found a resting-place round the trunk, and among the branches of a stately pine-tree that overlooks the principal baraque. You know this is the country residence of our good friends who are making excavations in that neighborhood. The rest of our party had not arrived; it was getting dark and the wind was unfavorable. One of the workmen told us the boat was approaching. After refreshing ourselves with strong coffee, we sallied forth to meet her, across arid fields, where prickly plants tore our boots, and scourged us unmercifully, making us do penance whether we would or no. There is neither pier nor landing-place at this point. As we scrambled down to the shore, a striking scene met our sight. Huge crackling signal-fires, throwing an unearthly light around; myriads of sparks and clouds of dust making us retreat to the windward side; groups of villagers, a Greek priest among the rest, with high cap and long cloak, gathered round the fire. The churchbell again sent forth its voice across the hills; the waves broke crashingly against the beach; dogs roved about and barked wildly; the excited people talked loudly and gesticulated. The boat was coming^ in!

But it was long of coming! We stood watching it making its way slowly towards the beach; the unruly waves disputed its progress inch by inch.

Our friends had left the barque, and were now rowing towards us in the little boat. Pietro, the head workman, a stalwart man, with a fine Italian face, swam boldly into the sea, and catching a rope from one of the sailors, fastened it round his waist, and, in defiance of surf and wind, gallantly drew the little craft ashore. Imagine the shouts of welcome from the people, the glad meeting of our party!

The signal-fires roared and blazed; the waves, unheeded now, murmured hoarsely, and somehow prickly plants had more mercy on us as we wended our steps homewards.

Ten pleasant days I spent at Kalavarda, — a charming gypsy life, a life of freedom and of peace! In the early morning, ere the sun had risen- high with "fervent heat," the view from the hill-tops was splendid; the blue sea, with white-winged caiques, tiny fishing and sponge boats, dancing over its glittering waters; the bold gray mountains of Anatolia; the sterile isles of Symi, Halki, and other sister islets, dimly seen in the distance; the lofty mountain of Taiyros, the Atabyros of the ancients, frowning afar off; rugged brown hills; broad plains stretching far away; herds of cattle seeking for pasture; mules laden with firewood; here, a falcon chasing its prey; there, broad-winged pelicans on their way to the south. Strange birds winged past me; strange trees waved their branches in the morning air; strange flowers nestled at my feet. And the glorious pine-trees, — those regal evergreens, whose aromatic perfume and soughing melody filled the air! One could have listened by the hour to that unearthly music, sung of old by the poets, and altogether different from the sound made by the wind among other trees.

Sometimes of a morning we took our books and work, and, crossing over the heights till we came in view of the site of Camirus, seated ourselves under a spreading juniper-tree. Here we had breakfast or luncheon, — Schelling, the Flemish servant, sending everything up in the nicest order and well cooked, with a carte of the viands, spelt according to his notions of orthography. Virtue, — so her

name signified in Greek, — the wife of one of the workmen, in short white gown, and red scarf round her waist, brought us our luncheon, and did mwsages for us. She had her needlework, too,—rabroidering, in bright colors and neat pattern, Uk border of a home-woven, strong, white cotton petticoat. Often, while we were at our midday meal, the workmen came and offered us olives and gherkins, and water from their skin bottles; these bottles they hung on trees in the shade. While we talked and worked, we watched the workpeople busy it the excavations, which I leave to abler pent than mine to describe.

One day, after sittin» for some time in the Sob, by the side of a tomb where the men were at work, my head ached so violently I was obliged to leave the spot and rest under a tree. Half an hour'* sleep removed the pain, and warned me to avoid the noonday sun again. One morning, when the mtc were excavating, I saw taken from the grave of a Phoenician woman a small round bronze mirror, with a short handle. It had been placed beneath her head, as was the Phoenician custom. There lay the skull and the rustreaten mirror, more than two thousand years old. Beside them stood peopJc of many a race and many a clime, — from east and west, from the sunny south and far northern shorts. Beckoning to a Greek workman to accompany now with a spade, I carried that skull and two others to a green bank under a shady tree, where the man dug a little grave, and there I buried them with their faces turned to the sea they loved so well. The foreheads were low, and the heads small.

Some of the excavators were Turks, others Greeks; a negro, a Mahometan, ate apart from the rest. Of an evening, this tall African, in the gandj colors so dear to his race, used to seat himself under a fig-tree in the court, and eat his solitary meal

Clear and sparkling, and almost hidden in tba> nook of a wooded ravine, between the sea and tb« Phrenician and Greek burying-grouud, was a well of exquisite water. Good water is so scarce in many parts of the island, the discovery of a spring is hailed as a blessing. I call this spring the Tanimerhinda Well, in memory of my friend Madame

S 's love for that sweet-scented flower of her

native Egypt.

The juniper-trees grow luxuriantly, making <pitt a leafy tent; their berries are quite different from those of the juniper-tree at home, being large awl brown, and tasting somewhat like a medlar. In the fields around were many of the tiny ant-lion traps, ready to entrap any unwary insect that might venture near them.

From the hill one morning we saw the Pacha« Egypt's yacht pass, en route for Alexandria. The village supplied us with good dark-colored bread, — the top strewed with sesame seeds, — fresh eggs, and the best of honey. Our sugar having come to a lo» ebb, we sent to the village for more; no sugar w$ to be had there, but one poor woman begged our acceptance of five lumps, all her little store.

Of a Sunday morning the Kalavarda villagers, and others from a greater distance, came and tat it the court, inspecting all,our movements. Some of the women, bolder than the rest, came and psepeJ into the windows; and one, with bare head m>J necklace of gold coins round her throat, actually walked into the house, and would have poked into every corner, had she not been summarily tfs' away.

We visited the village church, whose bell

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