under cover in the village, could see nothing of his friend.

"It was seven in the evening," says Mr. Hobhouse, in his account of it,
"and the fury of the storm had become quite alarming. Never before or
since have I witnessed one so terrible. The roof of the hovel in which
we had taken shelter trembled beneath violent gusts of rain and wind,
and the thunder kept roaring without intermission, for the echo from one
mountain crest had not ceased ere another frightful crash broke above
our heads. The plain, and distant hills, visible through the chinks of
the hut, seemed on fire. In short, the tempest was terrific; quite
worthy of the Jupiter of ancient Greece. The peasants, no less religious
than their ancestors, confessed their fears; the women were crying
around, and the men, at every new flash of lightning, invoked the name
of God, making the sign of the cross."

Meanwhile hours passed, midnight drew near, the storm was far from
abating, and Lord Byron had not appeared. Mr. Hobhouse, in great alarm,
ordered fires to be lighted on the heights, and guns to be let off in
all directions. At length, toward one in the morning, a man, all pale
and panic-stricken, soaked through to the skin, suddenly entered the
cabin, making loud cries, exclamations, and gestures of despair. He
belonged to the escort, and speedily related the danger to which they
had been exposed, and in which Lord Byron and his followers still were,
and urging the necessity of sending off at once horses, guides, and men
with torches, to extricate them from it.

It appears that at the commencement of the storm, when only three miles
from the village, Lord Byron, through the fault of his escort, lost the
right path. After wandering about as chance directed, in complete
ignorance of their whereabouts, and on the brink of precipices, they had
stopped at last near a Turkish cemetery and close to a torrent, which
they had been enabled to distinguish through the flashes of lightning.
Lord Byron was exposed to _all the fury of the storm for nine
consecutive hours_; his guides, instead of lending him any assistance,
only increased the general confusion, running about on all sides,
because they had been menaced with death by the dragoman George, who, in
a paroxysm of rage and fear, had fired off his pistols without warning
any body, and Lord Byron's English servants, fancying they were attacked
by robbers, set up loud cries.

It was three in the morning before the