Travels in Greece and Russia : with an excursion to Crete

Front matter

;t

The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant iS

Kflj '

CHAPTER II. Further from Dahnatia, 9

CHAPTER HL First Days in G-reece, 22

CHAPTER lY.

On the Acropolis, 34

CHAPTER Y.

Winter Life in Athena, 45

CHAPTER YI.

A Greek Baptism, 54

CHAPTER YIL The Court of King Otho, 62

CHAPTER Yin.

Greek Festivals, Religious and Civic, 76

CHAPTER rS.

An Excursion to Crete, , . 89

CHAPTER X.

A Cretan Journey, 101

VI CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAPTER XL Our Imprisonment at Rhithymnos, 1L2

CHAPTER XII.

The Caverns, Mountains, and Labyrinths of Crete, . . . .123

CHAPTER XIIL Two Days with au Archbishop, .137

CHAPTER XIV.

Tlie Earthquake at Corinth, 14S

CHAPTER XV.

ArgoUs and Arcadia, . IGl

CHAPTEiR XVL Four Days among the Spartans, 1C9

CHAPTER XVn.

Messenia, Elis, and Achaia, 186

CHAPTER XVIIL Byron in Greece, 203

CHAPTER XIX.

The Haunts of the Muses, 216

CHAPTER XX.

Parnassus and the Dorian Mountains, 226

CHAPTER XXL The Frontier of Thessaly 237

CHAPTER XXIL Adventures in Euboea, ,. ' . 247

CHAPTER XXIIL People and Government, . . . , . . . .261

CHAPTER XXIV.

Agriculture and Resources, 273

CHAPTER XXV.

Return to the North, 281

CHAPTER XXVL Cracow, and the Salt Mines of Wieliczka, 289

CHAPTER XXVn.

A Glance at "Warsaw, • 303

CONTENTS. VU

PAGB

CHAPTER XXVin.

A Journey through Central Russia, ' . 315

CHAPTER XXIX.

A Panoramic View of Moscow, , . 325

CHAPTER XXX.

The Kremlin, 334

CHAPTER XXXI.

A Visit to the Foundling Hospital, 348

CHAPTER XXXIL Moscow, In-doors and Out, 359

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Railroads in Russia, 371

CHAPTER XXXIV.

St. Petersburg and its Palaces, 381

CHAPTER XXXV.

Tzarsko Selo, Paulovsk and the Islands, . . . . . 394

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Varieties of the Russian Capital, 407

CHAPTER XXXVn.

Journey through the Baltic Provinces, 417

TRAVELS m GREECE AND RUSSIA.

I. Greece

CHAPTER I.

PICTURES FKOM THE DALMATIAN COAST.

After giving up the hope of enjoying a Siberian Winter, which had been my original intention, I determined to go as near as possible to the opposite extreme of avoiding the Wmter altogether. But by the time we left Gotha (on the 4th of December, 1857) the season was already inaugurated. The first snow whitened the Thiiringian hills ; bitter blasts blew down upon us from the Hartz — the last chilly farewell of the forsaken North, Like a true German, he was not satisfied with one adieu, but must return again and again to prolong the sweet sorrow of parting. He accompanied us to Dresden, through the black and lowering passes of the Saxon Switzerland, over the open plains of Bohemia, and only left us for a while in the vaUey of the Danube to return with a more violent embrace, on the top of the Semmering

Alp. Finally, at the southern edge of the Karst^ or table-land of Carinthia, where his rugged name of Boreas is Italianized into the Bora, we left him, and the little olive-trees in the gardens of Trieste welcomed us to the threshold of the South.

At Trieste, I determined to make the most of my southward voyage, by taking the Lloyd steamer of the Dalmatian and Albanian line, which would enable me to see something of one of tlie least frequented and most interesting of the Mediterranean shores. At noon, on the 12th, we were all three on board of the Miramar, Captain Mazarevitch, steaming out of Tiieste under a cloudless sky and over a smooth blue sea, albeit the south-eastern wind, blowing over the Istrian mountains, was keen enough. Our vessel, although new, clean, and sufficiently comfortable, was painfully slow, and consequently we were not up with Pola, the famous amphitheatre whereof is plainly visible from the sea, until long after dark. Our comfort during the afternoon was our fine view of the Julian Alps, wheehng in a splendid arc around the head of the Adriatic, from Trieste nearly to Venice. During the night we crossed the mouth of the Gulf of Fiume, which you may remember as the only outlet of Croatia, much talked of during the Hungarian struggle, in connexion with the design of uniting the Slavic races with the Magyars, and securing a seaport for the new nation. I cheerfully testify that the Gulf of Fiume is as rough a piece of water as the Bay of Biscay, and this is all I know about it, for by sunrise we were at anchor in the harbor of Zara, the capital of Dahnatia.

Most gentlemen have heard of this place, from reading

PICTUKES FllOJI THE DALMATIAN COAST. 3

on the labels of certain square, wicker-encased bottles — " Maraschino di Zara.'''' Those who have dipjDed into history far enough will remember the famous sea-fight fought here during the Fourth Crusade, and the happy few who know Venice have not forgotten the famous picture in the Doge's Palace, wherein the son of Barbarossa is taken prisoner by the Venetians, the most flagrant case of lying which the world can produce — no such incident ever having occurred. Zara, I suspect, looks pretty much as it did in those days. Its long, crenelated walls and square bastions had a familiar aspect to me, from the aforesaid picture. Of its ancient history I need only say that it was the capital of the Roman province of Liburnia, and a place of some note in the days of Augustus.

The sun rose over the snowy range of the Velebich, which separates Dalmatia from the Turkish pashalik of Bosnia. The land, under the clearest illimiination, looked intensely bare and stony. Around the harbor were olive orchards, with a spiry Italian cypress or two, and some leafless fig-trees. Dalmatian boatmen thronged the low quay, in front of the water gate, and hovered about the steamer, in their red caps, loose shirts and wide trowsers. The picture was neither Italian nor Oriental, yet with something of both, and there was enough of Frank innovation to give it a shabby air. I know nothing more slovenly and melancholy than the aspect of those Mediteri-anean ports which are in a transition state — where the old costume, habits, and ways of living have been for the most part given up, and those of Western Europe are still new enough to appear awkward and aflected. The interior of

4 TRAVELS IN GKEECE AND KUSSIA.

the town produced the same impression ; there was everywhere the same curious mixture of two heterogeneous elements. Only the country people, who had come in with their market-carts and were selling vegetables in the principal square, and some shaggy fellows, whom I took to be Morlaks, or Mountain Slaves, seemed to be purely Dalmatian, both in blood and habits. Their Slavic ancestry was to be seen at a glance. The deep-set eye, the heavy brow, the strong nose, and lengthened oval of the face — the expression of courage, calculation, and obstinacy — the erect, rather haughty form, and free, graceful carriage, are characteristics which belong to all the branches of this widely spread race. Some of the old men were noble jfigures; but the men, as elsewhere among the Slaves, were much handsomer than the women.

Zara is a little place, and one can easily see the whole of ^ » it in an hour. The streets are very narrow and crocked, but paved with heavy stone slabs, and kept perfectly elean. At one corner of the public square, stands a Corinthian pillar surmounted by a winged griffin, Avhich is believed to have belonged to a temple of the age of Augustus. The Cathedral, a low building of marble, Byzanthie in style, was founded by old Dandolo, who wintered here in 1202, on his way to take Constantinople. "We Avent into a cafe to taste Maraschino on its native soil, but the specimen proved that the flavor of the liqueur is improved by banishment. It is made from the berries of a variety of wild cherry, called the marasca, whence the name.

We left at noon, and running along a coast which appeared barren, altliough every valley which opened to

PICTURES FROM THE DALMATIAN COAST. 5

the sea was silver-gray with olive orchards, reached Seberiico ^a little before suuset. This is a wonderfully picturesque place, built along : the side of a hill which rises steeply from the watei*^ and dominated by three massive Venetian fortresses, . behind which towers a bald, barren mountain. Our steaiir^ was hauled in beside* a mole which protects the littl^llarbor, and we stepped ashore to see the place before dark. Crowds of grizzly, dirty men, dressed in wide trowsers ai?<f^Miggy sheepskin jackets, stared at us with furiosity. <A. fewlaf them begged in unintelligible Illyrian or bad Italian. -The women, some of whom were quite pretty, wore a- very picturesque costume, consisting of a crimson boddice, open to the waist in front,, disclosing a snowy linen chemise, in which i^he full breast was enveloped, a petticoat of red or dark blue, and'a gay handkerchief twisted through the long braids of their thick black hair.

The streets were so very narrow, steep, and dark, that we hesitated at first about plunging into such a suspicious labyrinth, but at Jast hit upon a lane which led us to the public square before the Cathedral, the only level piece of ground in the city. It is an artificial terrace, about half-way up the hill, and may be a hundred feet square. On one side is the Cathedral, a very quaint, squat old building of white marble, in a bastard Byzantine style ; on the other a building resting on an arched corridor, which reminds you of Venice. Broad slabs of slippery marble paved the court, which we found utterly silent and deserted. As the yellow lustre of sunset struck upon the dome and the front of the fortress which frowned high over our heads, and a glimpse of purple sea glimmered afar throiigh the gap by which we had ascended, I felt as if I had discovered some lost, forgotten city of the past, over which no wind of ruin had as yet blown. All was quaint and solemn, mellowed by the touch of age : had it been new, it would have been merely grotesque.

"We mounted to the fort, whence theipe was a wide view of the coast, the sea, and the Dalmatian Islands. The fortresses appeared to be no longer kep't' up as defences, for which, indeed, they are now worthless. Sebenico is a poor place, and as proud as it is poor, if one may rely upon the statements made by a thriving brewer, who keejDS a beerhouse on the quay. " There is no such thing as enterprise here," said he ; " the country is capable of producing much more than it does, if the people were not so lazy. Here, for instance, are half-a-dozen old Venetian families, who consider themselves too nobly born to do anything, and who are gradually starving in their pride. After having sold everything except the family mansion, they then sell their plate piece by piece. What they will do when that is gone, I cannot tell. I am considered rich, because I earn more than I spend, but am despised by these gentry because I have a business. My father was once applied to by one of them, who wished to borrow money. He went to the house, but was refused admittance by the noble lady, who said : ' Stay in the street until my lord comes out.' Well, when my lord came, my father said to him: 'If my person is not worthy to enter your house, my money is not worthy to touch your fingers ' — and so left him. These people would like to restore the Venetian rule, because they

PICTURES FROM THE DALMATIAN COAST. 7

held offices then, and were somebodies ; but if we were well rid of them, and could fill their places with Germans, not afraid to work, it would be better for Dalmatia." I have no doubt there is much truth in the brewer's remarks. Dalmatia seems to me as well adapted for the production of wine, oil, and silk, as any part of Southern Europe. Its present yield of wine, which is of excellent quality, amounts to 1,200,000 barrels annually. About 60,000 barrels of oil are produced, but as the number of olive trees in the province amounts to near three millions, and from tAvo-and-a-half to five pounds of olives (according to the season) yield one pound of oil, there must be a great waste of raw material in the prejDaration of the article. Wheat and barley also thrive remarkably well. The value of the staples exported from the province amounts to about $2,000,000 yearly, which, for a population of 400,000, gives but $5 a head as the amount of their industry beyond what is required for their maintenance.

Early the next morning we started again, still favored with cloudless skies and sleeping seas. The tops of the shore hills rose bold and yellow above the olive terraces which belted their bases, and far inland rose pale-purjsle mountain chains, tipped with snow — the dividing ridge between Dalmatia and Bosnia. Towards noon, rounding a point of the coast and turning almost due eastward, the spires of Spalato (not Spalatro, as it is generally spelled), famous for its memories of Diocletian, twinkled before us. It lies on a little cove, at the head of a wide bay, landlocked by the islands of the Dalmatian Archipelago, and at the end of a gently sloping plain, three or four miles long.

The mountains here fall back, and form a graceful amphitheatre, at the head of which stood the old Roman city of Salona. Spalato is founded on the ruins of Diocletian's palace, the walls of which still contain the whole of the mediaeval city. Every one has heard of Diocletian and his Dalmatian cabbages, but few know how much of his imperial hermitage has been spared by time. Let us go ashore and see.

CHAPTER II.

FURTHER FROM DALMATIA.

Spalato ought properly to be called Diocleziano. In the front of the long row of houses facing the sea, we counted twenty-eight arches of the Emperor's palace, and we recognised, in the hexagonal structure behind the tall Venetian belfrey, the temple of Jupiter which stood within its walls. Landing in the midst of a wild, dirty, but very picturesque crowd of Dalmatians and Morlaks, we discovered an arched entrance into the mass of houses, in the centre of the ancient sea-fi"ont. A vaulted passage, ascending by irregular steps, led us into the midst of ii-regular ruins, among which the modern inhabitants are nested like bats, blackening with their fires and defiling with their filth the Roman arches and walls. A circular hall, the vaulted roof of which had fallen in, was evidently the vestibule to the architectural splendors of the inner court.

Beyond this, however, the picture suddenly changed. A portico, supported by four pillars — monoliths of red granite, with Corinthian capitals of white marble — and with

1* a pediment sculptured in the most florid style, conducted us to the court of the palace, paved with marble, and surrounded by a colonnade of red granite, raised upon a lofty base. On the right hand, the massive portico of the temple of Jupiter now serves as the foundation of the lofty campanile, behind which stands the temple itself, almost entire in all its parts. On the left, a short distance behind the colonnade, is a smaller building of marble, with a very rich Corinthian cornice, which is generally supposed to have been a temple of -^^^sculajjius, although some antiquaries regard it as the mausoleum of Diocletian, In front of the temple of Jupiter sits an Egyptian sphynx of black porphyry, with an inscription of the time of Amunoph III. — about fifteen centuries before Christ. The charm of the court is greatly enhanced by the suddenness with which it comes upon you, and by contrast with the tall, plain masses of the old Venetian houses which inclose it. The fact that it served as a public square to the inhabitants of the Spalato of the middle ages, which was built entirely within the palace-walls, has no doubt preserved it from ruin. The square is still called " Piazza del Tempio.''''

We went into the temple, now the cathedral. The tawdry appurtenances of its present religion do not at all harmonize with the simple severity of the old. It is rather gloomy, the ancient vaulted dome having no aperture to admit light, like that of the Roman Pantheon. There is an external colonnade, which is gradually falling into ruin through neglect, and its condition shows that there is need of an appeal similar to that upon the outside of a church in Florence — "If you bear the name of Christians, oh

FURTHER FROM DALMATIA. 11

respect the temple of the Lord !" Two large sarcophagi were lying between the columns. One of them had a cracked lid, a piece of which Braisted shoved aside, and diving into the interior, brought out a large thigh-bone, the owner of which must have been over six feet in height. There is an interior gallery, under the dome, which rests upon columns of porphyry and grey granite. This gallery is adorned with a frieze representing a hunt, whence some suppose the temple to have been erected to Diana instead of Jupiter. It is well known, however, that hunting subjects were used in the temples of various gods, at a later period. The execution is so very clumsy, that one can have no very exalted opinion of Diocletian's taste. I can only compare it to those monstrosities which were perpetrated under the name of sculpture, during the Greek Empire. In front of the temple of ^sculapius lies a sarcophagus, which is supposed to be that of Diocletian himself, and with more probability than usually belongs to such conjectures.

Braisted and I mounted to the summit of the campanile, and sat down to contemplate the landscape. It was a warm, still, cloudless day, and the rich plain behind, sloping back to the site of the ancient Salona, the blue harbor, inclosed by the purple Dalmatian islands, and the bald, lilac-tinted mountains, rising along the Bosnian frontier, formed so large, cheerful, and harmonious a picture, that we at once understood Diocletian's choice, and gave him full credit for it. "He was the only Roman Emperor who had good common sense," said B., with a positiveness from which there was no appeal. In the gar'dens around Spalato we

12 TKAVELS IN UEEECE AND KUSSIA,

noticed some cabbages, the descendants, probably, of those which Diocletian so ostentatiously shook under the nose of Maxrminian. But in spite of his cabbages Diocletian was far from being a Diogenes in the purple. I looked down on the compact little town, and could easily trace the line of his palace-Avall — an irregular parallelogram, 500 feet on the shortest side, and 670 on the longest. It was originally adorned with eighteen towers, and pierced with four gates, the main entrance, the Porta Aurea (golden gate), bemg on the side towards Salona. This has been recently excavated, and, except that its statues have fallen from their niches, is very weU preserved. The other gates were named Silver, Bronze, and Iron. Within this space the Emperor had his residence and that of a large retinue, including his women, guards, and slaves, besides two temples, a theatre, bath, and halls for festivities. The Byzantine writer, Porphyrogenitus, who saw the palace in its perfect state, says : " No descrij^tion can convey any idea of its magnificence." Who would not be willing to raise cabbages in this style? For my part, I should not object to a dish of such imperial sour-krout.

We left Spalato in the afternoon, and made for the port of Milne, on the island of Brazza, whose olive-streaked hiEs shimmered faintly in the west. This island is the largest in the Dalmatian Archipelago, producing annually 80,000 barrels of wine, and 10,000 of oil. It was celebrated by Pliny for its fine goats, a distinction which it still jireserves. Brazza, I am informed, sent quite a number of emigrants to California. It is curious to observe how very closely the threads of commercial and social intercourse are knitted,

FURTHER FROM DALMATIA. 13

all over the world. All civilized nations are rapidly becoming limbs of one vast body, in which any nerve that is touched 'm. one is more or less felt by all. " Our busmess is very dull in Zara," said a Dalmatian to me, " on account of the crisis in America." " But the worst of the crisis there is already over," I said, "as well as in England." " Then we may hope that ours will not last long,'' said he. In Zante, and other Ionian islands, the people were greatly pinched, during the crisis of 1857, because the Anglo-Saxon race could not afford so many plum-puddings, and their currants remained unsold.

Rounding the western end of Brazza, a deep chamiel, terminating in a circular harbor, as regular as if cut by art, and sunk in the heart of the hills, opened unexpectedly on our right. This was Milne, the port of the island, a silent, solitary, tranquil place, which even our arrival did not appear to excite in the least. We halted here but a short time, and then sped away to Lesina, where Titian is said to have been banished for some years, through the strait where, in 1811, four English vessels defeated the French fleet of eleven, touched during the night at Curzola, and by the next sunrise were at anchor in the harbor of Ragusa. This is, historically, the most interestmg point on the Dalmatian coast. A few scattering Greeks and Illyrians founded here, in the year 636, a little Republic — not bigger than the estate of many an English nobleman — which survived the fall of empires, and the political storms of nearly twelve hundred years. It was finally wiped out in January, 1808, by a decree of Xapoleon, who bestowed upon Marshal Marmont, the commander of the French troops in Dalmatia, the title of Duke of Ragusa. Tributary both to Venice and the Ottoman Empire, it still preserved its municipal independence ; and, besides its commerce, which at one time employed 360 vessels and 4,500 sailors, found leisure to cultivate literature and the sciences. Cceur de Lion, returning from Palestine, was entertained as a guest by the Senate, after his shipwreck on the neighboring island of Lacroma, where he built a church to commemorate his escape. The Republic also sheltered King Sigismund of Hungary, after his defeat by Sultan Bajazet, and three times afforded succor to George Castriot, or Scanderbeg, the last gallant chieftain of the Grecian Empire. Ragusa, in short, has stood unharmed, like a bit of moss in the forest, while every tree has been blasted or uprooted, and many a chance sunbeam of history has struck athwart its secluded life. Napoleon, the Destroyer and Builder, set his foot upon it and crushed it at last.

The captain gave us two hours for a ramble on the shore, and we set out for Old Ragusa, which is between two and three miles distant. The present port is a landlocked basin, shut in by sweeping hills, which are feathered to their summits with olive groves, while the gardens below sparkle with their boskage of orange and lemon trees. The hills are dotted with country houses, many of them stately structures of the republican time, but all more or less dilapidated. Marks of the French and subsequent Russian invasion are seen on all sides. Roofless houses, neglected gardens, and terraced fields lying fallow, gave a melancholy air of decay to the landscape. Climbing a long hill from the harbor, we crossed the comb of a promontory, and

FURTHER FROM DALMATIA. 15

saw the sea before us, Avhile down in a hollow of the coast, on our left, swam in the blue morning vapors the spires and fortresses of Old Ragusa. Far above it, on the summit of the overlooking mountains, shone the white walls of another fort, the road to which ascended the steep slope in fourteen zigzags. It was a warm picture, fuU of strong color, and sharp, decided outline. Clumps of aloe clung to the rocks below ; oranges hung heavy over the garden walls above, and in a sunny spot some young palms were growing. We only succeeded in reaching the outskirts of Old Ragusa, whence we overlooked the falling city, upon whose main street, paved with slippery marble, no horse is yet allowed to set his foot.

I did not find the Ragusan costumes — at least those which I saw — quite so picturesque as those of the other Dalmatian ports. The race, however, is mainly the same. Indeed, it has been ascertained that of aU the inhabitants of Dalmatia, fifteen out of sixteen are of Slavic blood. They are a medium-sized people, but tough, hardy, and of considerable muscular strength. Their mode of life is quite primitive. Every family has its patriarchal head, and the sons bring their wives home to the paternal hut, until the natural increase crowds them out of its narrow bounds. The mother takes her unweaned infant to the field with her, and lays it doAvn on a soft stone to sleep. They still cultivate witches, and believe in demons and magical spells. Among the Morlaks, the bridegroom, until very recently, was obliged to catch his bride in a public race, like HypO' litus, or the Tartar bachelors. Blood revenge, as among the Corsicans, exists in spite of the law, and the wandering bard, singing the exploits of his heroic ancestors, goes from village to village, as in the days of Homer.

Continuing our voyage southward along the coast, we reached in the afternoon the Bocca di Cattaro, the entrance to one of the wildest and most wonderful harbors in the world. Austria has held on with the tenacity of a terrier to all the Venetian settlements along the Adriatic upon which she could lay hands. Look at the map, and you will see how, from Zara to Budua, she has seized a strip of coast, between two and three hu^ndred miles in length, while its breadth wavers between five and thirty miles. Bosnia, the Herzegowina, and Montenegro have now no communication with the sea, excejDt through Austrian ports. In two places this strip is interrupted by narrow wedges of the Turkish territory, which come down to the sea — of covirse at points w^here no seaport can be created. Austria has taken good care of that. We swept close under a beetling cliff of mellow-tinted rock, up which rose, bastion over bastion, the heavy white walls of a fortress. The mouth of the bay is somewhat less than a mile in breadth, with an island, also fortified, lying athwart it. We entered a deep, land-locked sheet of water, shut in by mountains. In the south-east rose a lofty peak of the Montenegrin Alps, its summit glittering with snow. " Where do you suppose Cattaro lies ?" asked the captain, "Somewhere in this bay," I answered. "No," said he, " it is just under yon snowy peak." " But how ai*e we to get there ?" " Wait, and you will see !" was the answer.

We touched at Castelnuovo, which was in the sixteenth

FTJBTHER FROM DALMATIA. 17

century the capital of the Herzegowina. It was taken by the Spaniards, the allies of Admiral Doria, who, after building the massive fortress which bears their name to this day, were in turn driven out by Khaireddin Barbarossa, the Turkish Admiral. Passing the warm, amphitheatric hills, rich with groves of olive, chestnut, and sycamore, we made for the southern end of the bay, which all at once opened laterally on the left, disclosing a new channel, at the head of which lay the little to^^^l of Perasto. Mountains, grey, naked, and impassably steep, hung over it. As we approached, a church and monastery, which seemed to float upon the water, rose to view. They were built vipon rocks in the bay — quaint, curious structures, with bulging green domes upon their towers. After passing Perasto, where the captain joyfuUy pointed out his house (a white handkerchief was waving from the window), the bay curved eastward and then southward, actually cleaving the mountain range to the very foot of the central peak of snows. On all sides the bare steeps arose almost precipitously from the water to the height of 3,000 feet. We were on a mountain lake ; the fiercest storms of the Adriatic could not disturb 'the serenity of these waters. They ai-e barricaded against any wnnd that blows. At the extremity of the lake, under the steepest cliffs, lay Cattaro, with its sharp angled walls of defence climbing the mountain to a height of nearly a thousand feet above it. The s\m had long since set on the town, although the mountains burned with a tawny lustre all along the eastern shore. We steamed up and cast anchor in front of the sea-wall. We landed at once, in order to take advantage of the vanishing daylight. A wild design for a moment came into my head — to take horses and a guard, ride up the mountain and over to Cettigne, the capital of Montenegro, and back again by sunrise — but unfortunately there was no moon, and I should have had the danger and the fatigue for nothing. Cattaro is a fortress, and the town, squeezed within the narrow limits of the walls, has the deepest and darkest streets. We discovered nothing of note in the course of our ramble. The place, I suspect, is much as it was when Venice defended and Khaireddin besieged it. We stood a moment in the public square to see the overhanging mountains burning with vermillion and orange in the last splendor of sunset, and then threaded the town to the further gate, where a powerful spring of the purest beryl-colored mountain water gushes out from under the walls.