modore swept proudly past our stern, and so near that we could easily distinguish the faces of our friends. At that moment, the shrouds of the other ship were manned by the crew, presenting a compact and lofty wall of human beings, who rent the heavens with their loud and hearty cheers. This salutation was returned in a similar manner by our own crew, some of whom were so rejoiced with the prospect of returning home, that they threw their hats into the sea, as an offering to old Neptune, or cast them upon the deck of the passing vessel, as a present to their brother tars. Then we fired a parting salute of thirteen guns, which was returned with a similar number from the flag ship. The same scene, with the exception of the salute, was repeated when the other ships of the squadron passed us. Their evolutions, borne onwards as they were by a rapid breeze, were performed with the utmost grace and beauty, and the whole scene was one of peculiar excitement. On the one hand, was the joy we felt in turning our faces homeward, and on the other, our deep regret at parting from those who had so long been fellow-wanderers with us amid so many scenes, rich with classic and high historic interest, knowing as we did the feelings of sadness excited within their breasts by beholding our departure for that land, where were the objects of their dearest affection, and from which they were yet for so long a time to be severed. The following lines were suggested by the scene described above:

THE FAREWELL AT SEA.

With gladsome breezes, fresh and free,
The noble fleet was gliding

Along the dark Egean sea,

The crested waves dividing.

Each bark, with canvass widely spread,
And masts on high uprearing,
Seemed like a spirit swiftly sped,
With life and joy careering.

But though beneath a radiant sky,
With classic scenes surrounded,
No joy lit up the wandering eye,
No voice with mirth resounded.

And o'er a thousand thousand souls,
Unnumbered thoughts are stealing,
While onward, like a torrent, rolls
The deep, dark tide of feeling.

For o'er the wide, wide rolling sea,
One noble bark is going,

And thoughts of parting, warm and free,
In many a heart are glowing.

And now the lofty shrouds are manned,
Each soul with rapture firing,

And loud and heartfelt cheers ascend,
Both joy and grief inspiring.

For some are bound where loved ones dwell,
Their gladsome souls delighted,

While other hearts with sorrow swell,
By thoughts of home excited.

And now the deep-toned cannon's peal,
Along the wild waves rolling,
Seems like those sounds we sadly feel,
When friendship's knell is tolling.

Then, gently yielding to the breeze,
The noble feet dividing,

The lonely bark, o'er distant seas,
Full soon is proudly riding.

And such is life, a changing scene,
To-day with friends united,

Then wide, wide oceans roll between,
And grief our souls hath blighted.

So pure

Nothing could be more delightful than the mild and balmy air of Greece, during the time we spent at Athens. and healthful was it, that it gave new life and vigor alike to the body and the mind, and imparted a sensation of delight, and a buoyancy of spirits so lively and peculiar, that we ceased to wonder that Greece should have been the home of the muses, and the birthplace of song. The atmosphere, which in other lands is so laden with moisture as to obstruct the vision, and cause corrosion and decay to the works of art, is there so transparent as to open before one an almost boundless landscape; while, at the same time, its balmy breath, so far from soiling or corroding, serves but to compact and give a hue of bright and golden radiance, as well to the massive temple and towering column, as to the humbler and less aspiring works of art. As we left this delightful climate behind us, and entered those seas, where the air is laden with heavy vapors, a deathlike stupor and oppression of spirits crept over us, and it seemed, for a time, as if, by Circean enchantment, the fire of intellect was extinguished, thus leaving us the form alone of men.

After visiting Mahon, and taking in the provisions required for our voyage, we set sail for Gibraltar, on our way to the western coast of Africa. And here I freely confess, that notwithstanding the lively pleasure excited by the pros pect of returning home, it was yet with feelings of peculiar regret that I bade a final farewell to old Mahon; its deep and quiet harbour, which had safely sheltered us from many a stormy gale; the almost romantic beauty of the town, as viewed from the bay, which washes the base of the rocky cliffs, crowned with structures of the purest white; the perfect neatness and quiet of the well-paved streets, resulting in part from the scarcity of domestic animals, the entire absence of wheel-carriages, and the eagerness with which every thing that can be used as manure is collected and carried away, as a means of increasing the scanty and artificial soil, with which so much of this island rock is covered; the honest industry and frugality, and the kindness and primitive simplicity of character, so common among those of the inhabitants, whose morals and manners have not been injured by contact with foreigners, together with the many pleasant strolls I had taken, and the happy hours I had spent there, both in study and in social intercourse, all these things united, caused emotions of sadness, on leaving Mahon, and led me, with feelings of lingering fondness and regret, to watch the summit of Mount Toro, as it faded away in the distance.

On leaving Gibraltar, too, a similar struggle of feeling arose. For, aside from the wild and romantic grandeur of the place itself, and the high historic interest, with which the legends of classic antiquity, and modern deeds of noble and heroic daring, and brave and successful defence, had invested it, there were ties of a social kind, which strongly bound us there. During our repeated, and at times protracted visits to Gibraltar, we had met in a foreign land with those who spoke a language common with ourselves, and the house of our amiable and excellent Consul had ever been, to us all, a home indeed, a place where refinement, intelligence, and modest worth and loveliness of character, united with a warm and generous hospitality, unembarrassed with needless form and etiquette, gave such a charm to social intercourse, as to lead one for the time to forget, that a wide and farreaching ocean severed him from the home of his love. Other friends, too, had been kind to us, and our intercourse with

the officers of the British army stationed there, was peculiarly pleasant. The kind access granted to the large and valuable libraries, both of the citizens and the garrison, had much increased our means of information, as to the numerous places we visited, and those objects of interest, with which, in our various wanderings, we were constantly meeting. Nor would I here forget the kind hospitality and fine social qualities of the Consul-General of Sardinia, a gentleman who, by a long residence in Egypt, united with extensive study and careful observation, had made himself more familiar with the interesting antiquities of that country than any other individual I have ever met with. Of my pleasant Christian intercourse with the Rev. Mr. Rule and his family, I have spoken already, and thus, during my different visits to Gibraltar, was much added to my happiness.

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CHAPTER XXIII.

MALAGA.

Malaga from the Sea. - Danger from the Carlists.- Great Panic. - United States Consul. - The Mole.- Fruit. Culture of the Grape: Number of Species. Vintage. - Income from Vineyards. Raisins. Manufacture

of Wine. - Commerce of Malaga.- History of the City. - Mines. - Ancient Inscriptions. - Traces of the Moors. Their Heroes and Learned Men. Mahometans and Catholics. - Sufis, Monks and Nuns. - Bishops of Malaga. Climate and its Effects. - Visitations of Pestilence.-Earthquakes. Inundations.- Population. - Convents. -Monks and Friars.The Catholic Church and the Theatre. -Lope de Vega. - Calderon de la Barca.. Religious Dramas. - Party Virulence: its Results. - Public Morals in Spain. - Spanish Preaching.-Exorcism. - Sale of Relics.-Making of Saints. — Francis di Posadas. St. Januarius; his Blood. - St. Catherine, of Sienna; her Life and Miracles. - Revelations.- Wonders of God.The Gothic and Roman Liturgies.-The Propaganda.

IN passing up and down the Mediterranean, we had often taken a passing view of Malaga, with her dense mass of houses, and her vast and lofty Cathedral, all overshadowed by the dark, rude heights which rise directly around, while further in the rear were the snow-capped mountains of Granada, recalling to the mind a thousand wild and daring feats of Moorish and of Christian valor. Upon every height along the seacoast, too, might be seen those towers which were reared in former times to protect the land from the frequent and sudden incursions of the corsairs of Barbary, who repaid a portion of the bitter wrong which their fathers had suffered in Spain, by yearly carrying from thence, thousands of inhabitants, and devoting them to a cruel and oppressive bondage, until a heavy sum was paid for their ransom. Feelings of deep and lively interest are excited by viewing, even from a distance, such a land as Spain, and the rude, rough outlines of her mountain coast have thus cast over them an air of softened and more harmonious grandeur and beauty. A bold and wide-extended landscape thus undergoes a change like that of martial music, which, in coming to us from afar, loses, indeed, something of its wild and spirit-stirring power, while, at the same time, it gains from the distance a rich and softened melody of tone, less exciting, but more grateful and subduing to the soul than more distinct and louder notes. These remarks, however, apply only to what God has made,

to the hills and the mountains which he has spread