consists of little more than an
assemblage of wretched hovels, the principal buildings having been
nearly all destroyed. Near the gate, one good house has been rebuilt;
and, a little farther on, a still larger mansion on speculation.
[Sidenote: ENGLISH RESIDENTS AT ATHENS.]This being a holyday, the bazaar
was closed, and after examining the remains of a building of Corinthian
architecture, supposed to have been Adrian's Library, we passed on to
the residence of Mr. Bell, an English gentleman, who has lately bought
property near Athens, where he resides, in a building which has suffered
less than many others. Mr. Finlay, who has lived upwards of ten years
among the Greeks, also possesses large property in and about Athens.
This gentleman undertook to be our cicerone, and we proceeded to the
hotel in search of the Bavarian commandant, from whom it is necessary to
obtain an order for admission, before we could visit the interior of the
Acropolis. On reaching the hotel, which, by the by, is a most excellent
and commodious house, we found the colonel at dinner, and the necessary
permission was immediately granted. The Acropolis had only been
surrendered to the new dynasty on Sunday last; and, had we arrived one
week earlier, we should have seen the crescent still towering over this
"abode of the Gods," instead of the Greek cross, by which it has been
replaced.

[Sidenote: DEATH OF THE CHIEFTAIN ULYSSES.] Passing the ruins of the
Temple of Victory, _involucris Victoria_[3], we soon arrived at the gate
of the fortress, and found the ambassador and Lady Ponsonby, with the
captain of the Actaeon, and other persons, endeavouring to gain
admission, which was resolutely refused by the Bavarian guard. Luckily
my order sufficed for us all; and we hurried up,--a motley group of
officers, sailors, Greeks, donkeys, horses, and idlers,--shouting,
laughing, and dissipating all the charm of the visit and the sanctity of
the spot. I therefore detached myself from the party as soon as
possible; and, in company with Mr. Finlay, endeavoured to pay that
attention to the wonders of the place, which I could not otherwise have
done. From the lofty tower erected by the Venetians, the brave chieftain
Ulysses was thrown down, and dashed to pieces. He was confined there;
and though his keepers assert that he met his death from the breaking of
a rope, by which he attempted to escape, there is little doubt he was
cast from the giddy height by design. Th