cteristic Street Scenes.--Emigration.

As the Grand Harbor of Malta is entered and the white battlements of
forts St. Elmo and Ricasoli are passed, one realizes the vast importance
of the situation. Those heavy guns rising tier upon tier are silent now,
but they are capable of doing fearful execution upon an approaching
enemy. Probably the access to no other seaport in the world is more
powerfully defended, unless it be that of Cronstadt, guarding the mouth
of the Neva and the passage leading up to the city of St. Petersburg.
Let us hope that such armaments may prove to be preventives and not
incentives to warfare. "How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds make
deeds ill done!" This is very true, and yet being prepared, fully
prepared, for it has doubtless often prevented war. It is calculated
that twenty-five thousand men would be required to properly man these
defensive works which hem about the town.

Few persons visiting this capital for the first time are prepared, on
landing at the broad stone steps near the Custom House, to find in this
isolated place a large and beautiful city whose historic associations
and architectural charms so admirably harmonize. Valletta is a genuine
surprise. Whatever preconceived idea the stranger may have formed
concerning it, he can hardly have approximated to the truth. Unique and
mystical, it constantly appeals in some new form to the imagination. It
strikes one at first as somewhat too pretentious in its endless
fortifications, palaces, hospitals, churches, public institutions,
theatres, and population, for a place so circumscribed geographically,
and of such seeming commercial unimportance. It will appear, presently,
as we progress in our Story of Malta, why and how such a full-fledged
city should have sprung, Minerva-like, into complete existence, without
experiencing the throes of incipient childhood, and the slow-ripening
capacities of maturity.

The capital is well-built in solid masses of dwellings, presenting an
unmistakable air of prosperity. One is reminded here and there of
Oriental Tangier, with a suggestion of scenes borrowed from Spanish
Granada. There are fascinating combinations everywhere, a succession of
attractive novelties and surprises constantly greeting the eye. The town
seems to be full of sunshine, of bright faces, and of flowers; at least
it is so here on the Strada Reale. Everybody is gay and animated. The
fountains laugh with rippling melody in the