he other berth near me, sneezed nine times in as many minutes;
and, after each sternutation, he went through a short formula of
prayer, beginning 'Santo Something,' to keep the devil to leeward, I
suppose; and, egad, I think he must have been on board _in propria
persona_, under some disguise, to have caused us so bad a passage.
This afternoon, to vary the programme pleasantly, we had a dead calm.
Our miseries seem to have no end. I begin to think I shall rival the
'Flying Dutchman,' and never make my port, but sail on for ever.--2nd.
A north-west wind sprang up at five P.M., and we reached Malta at
seven."

Thus, the sailing-vessel took seven days to do what I did in thirty
hours on the steamer. After the usual amount of driving, dining, &c.,
at Malta, in the words of the poet I bid

Adieu to joys of La Valette,
Adieu, sirocco, sun, and sweat;
Adieu, ye females without graces,
Adieu, red coats and redder faces;
Adieu, the supercilious air
Of those that strut _en militaire_.

And now the word is "homeward;" and across a track well known to the
English tourist, we journey onward, till

The mountains of Trieste afar are seen,
And farther yet, the Alps, whose highest peak
Now glitters with a gay and snowy sheen
In the bright sun; as quick our sailors seek
An anchorage in the port, where Turk and Greek,
Swede and Levantine, and full many more,
The haughty Spaniard, and the German sleek,
All races, from the Nile unto the Nore,
Into Trieste, in many a varied costume pour.

Along thy silent streets I wander now,
Venice, once queen, aye, empress of the sea!
Fairest in art as clime, yet sunk so low
Beneath the despot Teuton's rule, I see
Thy halls deserted, fallen, yet in thee
Much splendour to admire there still exists.
Well could I quit my native land, and flee
The rugged northern clime, the vapid mists,
With thee to dwell, did I that only what me lists.

The fiery car speeds on her iron way,
Through hill, o'er valley quickly do we fly.
There lies the grot of Adelberg, and day
Sees us past Gratze's fortress hasten by
Like lightning's flash, nor stop until we spy
St. Stephen's dome from out the darkness peer.
Like _bas reliefs_ her turrets in the sky
O'ertop Vienna, great the pious fear
Of holy men, who such vast beauteous structures rear.

There Coeur de Lion lived and almost