covered with a rich India shawl, and another was placed at her feet.

Vis-à-vis to her sat the aged Prince her husband, in his Turkish costume, his grey beard flowing over his breast, and his magnificent pipe by his side. He speaks Italian and French, and is a shrewd old man. Count Pozzo di Borgo, who accompanied us in the visit, and who frequently spends an hour with the Prince and Princess, asked the latter to let us see some of her jewels, a request with which she good-naturedly complied; and the Prince ordered pipes to be brought to the gentlemen.

It was curious to behold the barbaric paraphernalia glittering before our eyes. On one side were the pipes, sparkling with rubies, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds, with which the amber mouth-pieces and handles were encrusted; poniards, and Damascus sabres, equally enriched with precious stones; and on the other were shining, in the open casket of the Princess, diamonds, uncut rubies, and emeralds, of immense value. One necklace particularly caught my attention. It consisted of a single row of pear-shaped diamonds, pierced at one end, through the punctures of which was passed a silver thread. There was no setting of any kind to this necklace, and never did I see so beautiful an ornament. Coffee was served à-laturque, in delicate china cups incased in silver fillagree ones; and the Prince and Princess did the honours of their residence with a grave dignity.

Dined yesterday at the Archbishop of Mitylene's, and partook of a repast in which many Turkish and

Greek dishes were introduced. I found them excellent; particularly a pillaw, the rice served with which was so admirably dressed, that, white as snow, and very hot, each grain might be separated from its neighbour without being crushed: yet it was perfectly boiled. A kid, roasted whole, and stuffed with pistachio nuts, was delicious. The dinner was sumptuous, consisting of three courses à-la-française, besides hors-d'œuvres; among which were caviare and various other Russian delicacies. The choice and abundance of the sucreries surprised us, though accustomed to the variety and excellency of them in Italy. Endless were the sweet things composed of flowers, aud not only tasting, but impregnated with the odour of them. One cake of rose-leaves was a chef-d'oeuvre; and another, of orange-flowers, was pronounced worthy of being served with nectar. The truth of Moore's song, in which he asserts that beauty cannot live on flowers, might be disproved by the sight of the dessert à-la-turque and à-la-grecque, for never did more tempting cates court the appetite of woman.

The party consisted of the Duchess de Guiche, the Prince and Princesse Soutzo, the Prince and Princesse Constantino Carragia, and our family, with Mr. Mos

tras.

After dinner coffee was served à-la-turque, and in a separate chamber pipes were laid for the gentlemen; who rejoined us, breathing, not of the insupportable fumes of tobacco, but of rose-water, through the medium of which they inhaled it. In the evening some additional guests were added to the circle, and a more agreeable party I have seldom met.

May. We gave a dinner yesterday in the forest of

Pisa, one of the most beautiful spots I have seen in Italy. The trees are magnificent, the verdure of the most vivid green, and the sea bathes one side of the forest with its blue waters, in which the lofty pines are reflected. But what adds considerably to the Oriental aspect of the scene, are the droves of camels wandering through it. Yesterday the illusion was completed by the presence of Prince Soutzo, and some others of our guests, in their Turkish costumes. As we sat at a table spread under the stately trees, through which the bright sun glanced on the plate with which it was piled, the turbans, flowing beards, and rich robes of some of the guests, and the snowy draperies of the ladies, had a very picturesque effect; while groups of camels, passing and repassing in the background, gave a notion of the halt of a caravan in some Eastern country.

June.-Dull as this place might be considered by most people, we depart from it with regret; for in it we have passed some pleasant days, and we leave behind us some whom it would grieve me to think I should meet no more. The Pisans are excellent people, kind-hearted, friendly, and obliging. In their society we have spent some agreeable evenings, and from them we have received many civilities.

Our Greek acquaintances we have learned to regard as friends: clever, intelligent, and amiable, we shall greatly miss the pleasure which our intercourse with them affords us; but I trust we shall meet again. This trust is founded on the talents of Prince Michael Soutzo, which are too remarkable not to place him in a distinguished position, whenever his country is suffi

ciently tranquil to permit a government to be established; in which, doubtless, he would be called on to fill an important situation. I have never known a more interesting family than his, nor one in which talent and worth are so united.

The good Archbishop, too, I regret to leave,—so mild, so full of Christian virtues. In the gay and dissipated society of other places, where people only meet for amusement, and have little opportunity of becoming really known to each other, they part without regret. But in a quiet, secluded town like this, the habit of daily intercourse, and in a limited circle, establishes an intimacy somewhat resembling that formed by guests in large country-houses, who might have met nightly amid the festivities of a crowded metropolis, without creating anything more than a slight acquaintance. Innumerable are the gagesd'amitié we have received from our new friends here; and deep is the regret expressed, and I do believe felt, at our approaching departure. They kindly and flatteringly assert, that they shall never be enabled to pass the Casa Chiesa without sorrow; and more than one poetical effusion has been already written on the subject. Yes, parting is a melancholy thing, and so I have ever felt it.

FLORENCE.-Arrived here three days ago. The heat intense, and inhaling in this inn, good though it be, the odour of the cuisine, and the flesh-pots therein preparing all day, the smell alone is enough to make one fat, and yet to preclude appetite, so overcoming are its fumes.

Much as I had heard of the flowers of Florence, their variety, profusion, and beauty surpass my expectations, and tempt me to undraw my purse-strings frequently during the evening drive. The delicacy of their hues, and the delicious odours they exhale, must surprise as well as delight those accustomed only to the paler and less odoriferous flowers of our colder clime; but even at Rome and Naples there are none to be found comparable to those daily offered for sale here.

Among the other agrémens of Florence is an excellent bookseller's shop, where most of the new productions of literature can be purchased, and where I half ruined myself to-day. But who can resist flowers and books?—Not I, I am sure.

Made the acquaintance of Walter Savage Landor, ten days ago, and have seen him nearly every day since. There are some people, and he is of those, whom one cannot designate as "Mr." I should as soon think of adding the word to his name as, in talking of some of the great writers of old, to prefix it to theirs. Of Walter Savage Landor's genius, his

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Imaginary Conversations" had, previously to our meeting, left me in no doubt: of the elevation of his mind, the nobleness of his thoughts, and the manly tenderness which is a peculiar attribute of superior men, and strongly characterises him, I had learned to form a just estimate; but the high breeding and urbanity of his manners, which are very striking, I had not been taught to expect; for those who spoke of him to me, although sincere admirers of his, had not named them. His avoidance of general society,