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respected; who possessed the well of universal knowledge; lived quietly and peaceably under five-and-thirty princes-and a cold sky; and some twenty years before had defeated Napoleon Buonaparte. Many were the strange questions which aunt and niece put to me; and while Kyr Spiros looked on with an amused smile, Kyria Maria would keep up a chorus of praise of the good fortune of the Franks, and even Irene seemed disposed to reckon it to my advantage that I should be descended from that splendid race.

The more I came to know her, the more charming I found her. When her uncle was present, out of respect for him she spoke but little. But when I was alone with her and her aunt, the bright flowers of her youthful intelligence blossomed forth freely. She had read nothing for she could not read, not even knowing her letters-but her mind had had some linguistic training. She had learned Albanian,' which she spoke with her neighbours, and as Jorgi informed me, with extreme fluency and elegance. From her Athenian ancestors on the mother's side, she had inherited the merry joke, the bright talk, the faultless grace of movement; but her views of life seemed tinged with Doric severity, for I never heard a light word from her nor did I, to my credit I may say it, ever let one fall before her. Finally, to complete the picture of her, her beauty included in itself all kinds of beauty, whether Ionic, Doric, or Æolic, Hellenic, or Hyperborean.

One day I had a fall from a horse. On a mild autumnal morning I was having a gallop on a young colt over the fields towards

the Cephissus. At first it was delightful, but presently my steed became unruly. Suddenly he seized the bit between his teeth, made a bolt, as if to assure himself of his freedom, and then turning, dashed headlong towards the town, and tore foaming down the long street of the Psiri. A block of stone was standing in the middle of the road. Against this he precipitated himself in his headlong flight, and I was shot like an arrow from a bow against a great block of marble, the corner-stone of a house. He was not hurt, and speedily picked himself up and rushed down towards the bazaar, spreading dismay everywhere along his course; whilst I lay there pale and bleeding. My eyes grew dim ; a crowd assembled round me; confused and unknown voices sounded in my ears, and I lost conscious

ness.

When I awoke, Irene stood at the head of my bed watching me. As I opened my eyes, she uttered a low cry of delight. Then she gave me-oh! so sweet, so loving a smile!-such a smile as I had never seen before, and have never seen since.

"Poor, poor Effendi," she said, as she slowly passed her hand over my face to stroke away the matted hair; "so far away from your Monachon [Munich], with no loved ones to take care of you."

"Am I not richly provided?" I answered. "Is there no one

here who cares for me?"

"But we are strangers to you; we cannot speak your tongue," she replied.

"Not so, dear Irene," I answered; "you are no stranger to me. Have I not known those dark eyes long, and can I not speak

1 A large number of the inhabitants of modern Athens are, as is well known, of Albanian origin.

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She blushed deeply, and in order that I should not perceive her confusion she stroked my forehead again with her soft hand, and laid it gently on my eyes. Then she leaned her arm on the pillow, laid her head in her hand, bent down over me, and said, with a dreamy far-away look: "When they brought you here, Effendi, I did not think I should ever hear you speak again." "And what if you had not?" I asked conceitedly.

"Oh, do not say such things," she said, reprovingly. "Let us rejoice that you are alive, and here with good people who love you."

She stopped short, as if startled at her own words, and rose from her chair. I had not time to say any more, for at that moment Kyria Maria entered. She was highly delighted to find that consciousness had returned, and advised that I should now endeavour to sleep. They then made my room and bed comfortable for me, and placed water within my reach; all of which Jorgi could have done quite well, but they would

not hear of it.

At last I fell into a deep slumber, and dreamt all kinds of dreams. I was again on the back of the colt, galloping with him over the meadows. All at once I saw Irene seizing the horse by the reins and begging me anxiously to dismount. Then I saw myself, pale as death, sitting on the steed with a fixed look of horror as he dashed along in his mad career. At last he ran against the block of stone in the Psiri, I was shot off, and lay once more crushed and bleeding by the marble cornerstone. Then I dreamed that I was lying very ill on my bed, and had a crown of thorns on my head, which a beautiful half-vanishing

female figure, with bare white arms, was pressing down ever harder and harder, so that the blood poured in streams down my forehead and over my eyes. I wiped my eyes again and again, and could scarcely see the figure. At length I saw as through a thin veil two beautiful dark eyes, and heard a voice saying, "It does not hurt, does it? I will bind your head up a little tighter. It shall not hurt you."

I awoke and perceived Irene standing by my bedside. She had put a bandage steeped in vinegar round my head, and was saying, "It does not hurt, does it? But I must bind it more firmly."

In this way I was lovingly cared for, and soon recovered.

The day of departure at last arrived. A bright warm January sun was shining into the rooms which I had now occupied for more than four months on the most pleasant footing with my landlord. Jorgi and I were putting the final touches: he packing the clothes into my trunk, I arranging in rows in a large box some half-hundred of books that I thought of leaving behind. We had done at nearly the same moment. I had nailed down the box, and I arose to my feet just as Jorgi was silently strapping the trunk. The last buckle was no sooner done than he too rose to his feet.

"We are ready," he said doubtfully, as he tossed his long hair back from his boyish face.

"Then fetch the horses," I replied. And he hurried off, striding down the stairs three or four at a time.

As the house-door banged behind him, I heard a light step creeping up the stairs. I ran to the door; it opened, and beheld Irene, in all the splendour of her gala dress-for it was a Greek fes

tival that day-radiant in purple and silver and gold. I had found it warm in packing, and was standing without coat or waistcoat, a Maltese straw-hat on my head, looking somewhat like a British sailor in summer attire. She stepped forward and gave me her hand. Her eyes glistened and the thought flashed through my mind that it was the last time I should ever see her. She may have had the same thought.

"You have come to bid me good-bye, Irene," I said. But she hardly let me finish the sentence. She threw her arms round my neck, and kissed me as a queen might have kissed a sailor. Then, while her soft white hands clasped my neck, she said: "Must you then go? Stay with me, my life!" She would not have spoken in vain. It seemed to me as though soft fanning wings were stirring up the passion which had long lain dormant in my heart, and were making it burn and glow; and I began to feel as if my heart were some inflammable material which would soon burst into an uncontrollable flame. I stood speechless, a prey to contending emotions. Presently I bent down over the sweet girl, who as she perceived this raised herself, clasped her arms more tightly round my neck, and pressed her mouth to mine so lovingly, so passionately, so intoxicatingly

Suddenly Kyria Maria appeared at the door to bid me good-bye. We had hardly sense enough left to feel confused at her sudden appearance. She looked at us in some surprise, but smiled benevolently, as if we were two children, and she forgave us as we would not do it again. I did not understand one-half of what she said to me, for I was looking all the time at Irene, who, with her handkerchief to her eyes, was standing at the window with her back to us. At length Jorgi dashed in with the news that the horses were ready, and were waiting below. This aroused me. I took up my coat and cloak, bade my four walls adieu, and descended the stairs in silence. Aunt and niece followed me, equally silent.

I mounted my horse. Kyria Maria advanced towards me, gave me her hand, wishing me o

-many years; begged me to greet my father and mother in Germany for her, and hoped I should have a safe and pleasant journey.

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THE light way in which it is assumed in some quarters that the days of ironclads are numbered, has, I think, no sound theoretical basis, while there is no pretension for supporting it by an appeal to facts, or to modern illustrations of naval warfare.

Obviously the answer to the question, "Are ironclads doomed?" must depend upon the tactical value of the ironclad as a weapon, and it is on its assumed failure as a modern arm that it is condemned. The argument, shortly put, amounts to this: "A firstclass ironclad is very costly, very complicated, and represents a very large proportion of the maritime power of the country, yet, whatever may be her speed, she is not ubiquitous, while the power of this Goliath is liable to be destroyed by one or two cheap Davids1 firing torpedoes." The reply, therefore, to the question at issue must be a tactical one. If the ironclad is to disappear, it is because it is being replaced by a more powerful arm, as other weapons have been displaced in previous phases of history. Thus the galleys of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries gave way to the sailing battle-ship, which, in its turn, was replaced by the steam-liner, this last being surpassed only a few years later by the ironclad, dependent for its motive power solely on steam.

DOOMED?

sufficient proof of this, if proof were needed; for although it was probably inspired by economy, it was perforce argued on tactical grounds, as he pressed the Committee not to build these "costly vessels, the true value of which it was not possible to determine, and which might be blown up or sent to the bottom by a simple torpedo 2-(No, no)—

The great question of man-ofwar shipbuilding of the day resolves itself, then, into one of tactics, and the naval officer should be the authoritative arbitrator as to the special vessels required to maintain our maritime supremacy; but though there have been some useful prize-essays, lectures, and discussions at the United Service Institution on naval tactics, they are little studied by our naval officers, and neither the early training nor the curriculum of the Naval College at Greenwich offers encouragement to pursue a branch of science which is, curiously enough, considered of somewhat theoretical value.

The natural result follows. Our naval constructors are themselves called upon to supply many of the tactical considerations involved in the design of a ship; and when she is launched and approaching completion, they are often unfairly attacked on account of her alleged deficiencies to meet certain requireThe recent motion of Mr Shaw ments, which perhaps only exist in Lefevre in the House of Commons an embryo stage in the brain of against continuing the construc- the complainant. In short, there tion of the Nile and Trafalgar, is a lack of that healthy public to which I shall again refer, is opinion which should exist and

1 The Confederate torpedo-boats used during the late war in America were all called Davids.

2 Times,' 11th June, 1886.

assert itself in what are somewhat On the first point, it is evident vaguely described as naval circles, and as a consequence, there is often a rush to conclusions after a successful experiment has frightened out of their propriety those who had previously complacently ignored growing developments of the science of naval warfare.

That the tendency to which I have just referred is to some extent a national characteristic will be generally admitted. It is not always pleasant, though generally instructive, when one's faults are repeated in an aggravated form in one's descendants, and our American cousins have certainly inherited from us this disinclination to the consistent study of the problems of naval tactical science; for in a recent lecture, Commander Bainbridge Hoff of the United States Navy commences his remarks by saying "It has always struck me as very odd that officers of our navy and members of our mercantile communities have not thought more, or at least have not expressed themselves more

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upon a science which even at the present time has a large mass of literature of its own; and he further adds, "in no branch of the science which I have termed 'tactical' has more satisfaction been reached than in arriving at decisions in regard to what is needed in the way of vessels for defence." I propose subsequently to give the views of some of our naval authorities on the relative value of ironclads and torpedo-vessels; but I am content now to point out that we do not seem to have any consistent naval policy founded clearly

that different nations must have different wants, and that no mere comparison with other countries can serve us. Switzerland has naturally no need of a navy. Austria only requires one for certain special contingencies. Russia develops a navy in the Black Sea to attain objects which are transparently evident. Germany, unless she aspires to be a colonial power, can dispense with a strong navy. Italy, from her position in the Mediterranean, which has been aptly described as a European lake, might largely depend upon torpedovessels or non-seagoing ironclads. France has a large seaboard and numerous colonies, but she is selfsupporting. England is an island, with a colonial empire such as the world has never seen previously, and an enormous trade; but above all, she depends upon her oversea supply for the daily bread of her teeming millions. How, then, can the navy of England-on which, under the good providence of God, the wealth and greatness of the kingdom not only "mainly depend," as the preambles to many Acts of Parliament state, but which is absolutely necessary to her existence as a great nation-be fitly compared to that of any other country? The standard of measurement is itself faulty and inapplicable to the question we wish to decide. We search in vain the history of the past to find any approach to the dependence of this country on her naval power. Mr Froude has, indeed, in his charming book, shown us how Oceana was the dream of a statesman in the time of the Commonwealth, and how nearly it is realised now; yet

1. On our national wants. 2. On the relative value of dif- we seem to fail to appreciate that ferent arms.

our enormous commerce requires

1 Delivered at United States Naval Institute, Washington, 11th March, 1886.

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