present ministry in place, and will join in no vote which has for its object or effect his return to power. But while such a project seems wholly out of the power of our representatives, the vision aries and enthusiasts, who are the bane of our unfortunate country, never once contemplate a junction of the Irish members with the Protectionists—a union which, from their numbers, would be effectual. Many of the Irish proprie tors are still horrified at the idea of protection, so contrary to all their notions of theoretical perfection. The thought of our Irish farmers, so ground down and ruined by taxation, having any protection, seems quite to shock their nerves; and any union with a party who still feel favourably disposed to such a policy, and who, if necessary, would restore it, is quite distasteful to our Irish political doctors, who seem only to follow the prescriptions of the famous physician, Sangrado, and to think that nothing is wanting to us but a steady perseverance in a plan of copious depletion. Poorrates and county-cess accumulate, and although there is but a light crop of corn, and an extensive loss of the potato crop; under the new free-trade policy, prices are likely to be lower than they have been for years back, and the patient is absolutely sinking from exhaustion, farmers, landlords, and labourers pauperised; and yet still the cry with many of our landed proprietors is free-trade, a little more bleeding and hot water, and all will be well.

It is time for us to descend to the regions of common-sense: we address ourselves especially to the gentry, and

to those who have any property to lose. The time is propitious for them to exert themselves. Agitation, which had ripened into rebellion, is for the present prostrate; and the influence of property will be more felt and respected by our representatives in parliament, than heretofore. While every other class is depressed and impoverished, the landed proprietors are chiefly marked out for destruction; surely, at such a time they will not lie down in indolence and apathy. If in every county they exert themselves to force their representatives into a faithful discharge of their duty, a party may yet be formed in the House of Commons, capable of protecting the landed interest of the empire. This is the great point to be looked to: unless a strong and united party of this description be formed without delay, we see nothing for the landed proprietors of Ireland but utter confiscation and ruin. Let all their energies be directed to this end, and they may be saved. They have plenty of opportunities on grand juries, and at public meetings, of causing their opinions to be heard; and if there be anything like the unanimity which the crisis demands, our Irish members will see the necessity of altering their course, or else forfeiting the confidence of their constituents for ever. But we hope our gentry will take warning; no half measures will now do; no mere petitions against the labour-rate act and poor-laws these are mere symptoms of our malady. What is wanting is a strong agricultural party, which will deliver us from the thraldom of Manchester politicians.

It was sunset in the Egean, and volumes might vainly be written in the attempt to convey to the mind all the teeming beauties pervading earth, and sea, and sky which are embodied in those few words. It is a spectacle never to be forgotten if once beheld, and still less, is it to be imagined, even faintly, from a mere description. Perhaps those only who have watched in wonder the unspeakable beauty which the last mournful smile of fading life imparts to the face of the dying, may form some idea of the indescribable loveliness of that scene, when gliding over the pure waters of the soft, blue sea-the expiring sunbeam passes on from isle to isle, lingering on each one as with a farewell kiss, and growing fainter, like a living thing that fades and dies for

very sorrow.

But it was over-this glorious pageant had passed from earth-already the night wind had arisen sad and low, and went its way, singing the dirge of the departed day, over the still, mirrorlike ocean, whose reposing waves seemed to tremble as it approached. As the darkness closed in, an imaginative mind might have discerned a strange, yet beautiful, analogy between the earthly landscape and the heavenly scene, for sea and sky were both alike, but oceans of intensest blue; and while above in the ethereal lake, the stars were floating like golden islets, below the fair expanse was studded with those fairy islands of the Cyclades, each one most lovely, and yet most unlike, and which cluster so near to one another that you may pass on, reading, as it were, those pages in Nature's book of beauty, and behold one sparkling in the morning sun, and the next bathed in the flood of noontide light, and a third radiant with the tender hues of even.

But the starry isles became brighter and more glorious in proportion as the scenes of earthly beauty faded and grew dim, like the brightening of celestial hopes for man in the evening of his days,

when the shadows darken round this mortal life.

For some time the whole scene was buried in the most profound repose and solitude; the heavens, wrapt in a silence intense and unbroken, seemed to hang in contemplation over the beautiful world, and no living sight or sound disturbed the solemn triumph of the deepening night. Suddenly, just as the rising moon shed a long streak of light across the waters, like a shining track, to link the sea and sky, a small and slender bark shot, like an arrow, from the darkness, lingered one second on that silver path, the moonbeams glancing on its sails, and on the glittering arms of the crew, and then, vanishing away into the shadows beyond, sped onward in the direction of the nearest island. At a distance one might have fancied it was but a sea bird that had sprung over the sparkling waters to sport with the moonshine, so rapid and graceful were its movements; but it was, in fact, one of those strange-looking little vessels called misticos, whose name is to this day connected in the eastern seas with deeds of darkness and of mystery. They are long, sharp boats, drawing little water, with two large lateen sails, and they skim the wave with incredible swiftness, although always carrying two or more guns, according to their dimensions, with a considerable number of men. They are in every respect admirably adapted for the purposes of piracy, and are not only invariably manned by regular and established corsairs, but are continually made use of by the most lawless adventurers for all purposes of rapine and murder, whenever a hidden plot has to be carried on, or blood to be shed in secret.

The crew of the light-winged mistico that now flew through the darkness over the calm breast of the Egean sea, were evidently of this latter class. Their dress was that much worn by the seamen in all parts of Asia Minor; the loose jacket and wide trowsers, confin

ed at the waist by a scarf, and the red cap, round which was twisted a handkerchief of gay colours, whence their long black hair escaped, and streamed on the wind. Their faces, bronzed by continual exposure to that tremendous sun, were darkened till they seemed almost to have a claim to African blood; but they were, in fact, of a class which belongs to no country in particular, or rather, which appertains to all; for in every nation we find men, belonging as to a race set apart, outlaws from the common humanity, who, by a fatal familiarity with crime in every shape, from the very first stage of their neglected infancy to the full fruition of vice in their reckless manhood, have become utterly dead to all the better impulses of our nature, and governed solely by their riotous passions, their souls branded with stains indelible and dark, hurry through a mad career to a violent death, causing their steps on earth to be tracked in bloodshed and desolation.

These were all armed with cutlasses, pistols, and the long Turkish dagger, which does such deadly execution, and in this respect only was there any resemblance between them and a person of totally different appearance, who was evidently only a passenger on board of their suspicious-looking vessel. He was a man of about forty, handsomely clad in the full Greek costume; there was even a scrupulous nicety in the details of the dress, which was the more remarkable, as he had by no means the Grecian cast of countenance, but possessed, even to a singular degree, the physical characteristics of the Tartar race, while the expression of his features seemed to intimate fully that he shared in the various qualities attributed to that wild people.

We should have to enter on an interminable metaphysical discussion, if we opened the question, by what law certain peculiarities of countenance seem linked to certain moral features in the character; and whether the child born with a particular caste of face, is of necessity condemned to the evil dispositions which are invariably found to correspond to it; but it is an undeniable fact, that the small eyes drooping inwards, and the flat nose of the Tartar are never to be found separate from a degree of low moral depravity, which no other expression of counte

nance seems so well calculated to represent. Even the dark faces of the lawless crew, lit up with fierce and stormy passions-whose lips opened not but with a volley of imprecations, whose wild eyes continually glared on each other with suspicious hate-even they were less repugnant to the eye than the sneering face, full of malice and cunning, of the stranger.

Yet, even on that countenance, so expressive of cold-blooded cruelty, and all things most abhorrent to the mind, a benign and soft expression could pass, like a sunbeam over a sterile rock, when he looked down on a child that was laid on a carpet at his feet. It was a young boy, small and fragile, wearing a splendid Turkish dress, and with a countenance which is frequently seen among the Eastern children, where the solemnity of premature thought has given additional beauty to the symmetrical perfection of feature they so often display. Unlike as they were, the one as evidently all guilelessness as the other was full of meanness and depravity, none but a father could have cast that look of love on the young child, whose fair head was pillowed on his knees, and to whom, from time to time, he murmured a few words of passionate endearment, which were as little in accordance with his cold and bitter expression, as the Turkish language in which they were spoken, with the dress which he wore.

Meanwhile the dark island, towards which the mistico was rapidly steering its course, began to detach itself from the surrounding darkness, and soon rose up before them abruptly, like one single gigantic rock. In a moment they were gliding stealthily beneath the vast shadow which it cast on the waters, and veering round a rapid turning in its precipitous cliffs, passed through a small opening, which a practised eye could perhaps alone have detected in that faint light; in an instant the great rocks, so dark and rugged, closed in behind them, and they seemed to have entered on another world altogether. A moment before, and the mistico had been gliding, as we have said, over the moonlit sea, whose far expanse lay beneath the sky as a mirror, wherein the young moon might look upon her own fair face, broken only here and there by the soft outline of the distant hills, while

the light waves, rippling against the rock-girt island, broke into a thousand fragments, glittering with phosphoric light-and now the boat lay, its sails idly flapping, without one breath of the fresh breeze which had borne it hither, on the still, black, waveless bosom of a vast circular basin, which was encircled by huge rugged cliffs of a dull grey stone, so barren and sterile, that no trace of vegetation was anywhere visible. Not a ray of light could find access to the dark waters, where the shadows of those great rocks mingled in one deep blackness; but directly facing the entrance the moonbeams fell on a fantastic pile of buildings, rendered conspicuous from their whiteness, and which seemed to cling, in the most singular manner, to the bare face of the cliff, spreading over the rocks in all directions. Below these might be distinguished a considerable extent of shipping, which sufficiently indicated that the pirate bark had entered into the harbour of Hydra, the little, rugged, sterile island, which at that period (the year 1822) was, as it is now, the centre of the maritime power of Greece.

It may, indeed, be truly said, that to Hydra the Hellenic people owe their freedom; for nothing but the determined courage, and singular nautical skill, with which the hardy natives of this isolated rock opposed the common enemy by sea, could have saved their country, at the crisis which was impending at this stage of the revolution. Certainly the astonishment of the Turks is not to be wondered at, when they first discovered that it was from this barren rock alone that had issued those swarms of dauntless, resolute foes, whom they vainly had opposed with all their stately fleets; but this singular island is far more thickly peopled than at first sight could be supposed possible: and the male inhabitants are, it may be said, exclusively seamen; indeed it was by no means an inapt expression of Ibrahim Pasha's, when he saw Hydra from a distance, and, shaking his hand towards it, exclaimed:-"Ah, little England, how ong wilt thou escape me!"

The crew of the mistico had now taken to their oars, by which means these accommodating barks are as often propelled as by their sails, and were creeping stealthily along in the shadow,

close to the shore; they made for the town, but long before they reached it, at a sign from the Greek, they ran into a little dark creek, and drew the boat up beneath a projecting rock, where it lay entirely concealed.

As

soon as they touched the land, the stranger sprung to his feet, and began to hide the arms which he wore in various parts of his dress; he then turned to the child, and lifting him in his arms, he held him closely embraced for a few minutes, and the dark, stern face was once more lit up by a smile of tenderness, as he looked into those clear eyes, and pressed his lips to the pure unruffled forehead.

"My lord and father," said the child, still speaking in Turkish, “[ pray you let me go with you."

"Not to-night, light of my eyes," answered the father, and those gentle words sounded strange in his harsh discordant voice.

"Oh, when will you return?" continued the boy, clasping his little hands round the strong, nervous arm.

"When there shall be light on the summit of that huge rock, you will know that it is sunset once again," said the Greek," and then will I come to you, my bird." Again embracing the child, he replaced him gently on the cushions, and was preparing to spring from the boat; but the young boy shuddered violently, and grasped his dress as he passed.

"Father, stay!" he exclaimed. "Why do you thus go forth in the dark still night, when all men sleep?"

"Child! what mean these prying questions?" said the stranger, with a frown which rendered his face almost hideous. The child met the stern, angry look with a mournful expression in his dark eyes, and, without speaking, passed his hand over the hilt of the dagger which his father had hid in his breast, and then fixed a steady inquiring gaze on his face. The Greek smiled, but it was a smile to which his fiercest frown was preferable, and he answered at once

"No, child! not to-night; at least I have no such purpose now.

"Ah, then," said the boy, with a sigh of relief, "to-morrow I shall again be able to kiss this hand without horror."

He pressed his lips to his father's hand as he spoke, and, releasing him,

sank back on the carpet. The Greek turned round, and stretching out his arm towards the crew, said, in a voice of thunder

"Pethia (children), you know what shall be the reward of this child's safety, but you also know the price of his blood!"

"We know it," shouted the men, as with one voice; and the Greek, apparently well satisfied, leaped on shore, and in a moment more was lost to their sight among the rocks. Treading his way over the stones with some difficulty, he soon entered the town, and, appearing at once to throw off all design of concealment, he walked boldly on through the streets. It is, however, only by courtesy that the streets of Hydra can be termed such, for they are in reality but rough and precipitous staircases, hewn out of the rock, and conducting with the most intricate turnings and windings, to the houses, that rise one over the other, more like the unsteady erections which a child produces with a pack of cards, than the habitations of ordinary mortals.

It seems, indeed, incredible that this extraordinary spot should ever have been chosen as a residence by any portion of the human race, for it lies sterile and solitary, exposed to the full glare of the burning sun, which every where has baked the scanty soil to the consistency of stone. There

is not an inch of level ground in the whole island. The power of vegetation is almost extinct; while the scarcity of water is so great that the requisite supply is obtained from a neighbouring island; yet nowhere is there to be found a race more cheerful, hardy, and contented, than the natives of Hydra. They rank high among the islanders (whose distinctive peculiarities differ as much as the outward appearance of the various islands) for courage, honesty, and truth-this last most precious quality being so extremely rare among the inhabitants of the Cyclades, that it may be doubted whether they even consider it a desirable virtue.

The Hydriotes are a fine, bold, sturdy race, more stout in limb than handsome in feature; and any deficiency in their personal appearance is by no means improved by the frightful costume it has been their pleasure to adopt. The dress of the men consists principally of a huge garment of

dark blue cloth, which, it seems, was originally destined to form a wide petticoat, but having seceded from that more feminine class of robe, is now tied in at the knee, and has become as uncouth and unseemly a portion of attire as can well be conceived. The costume of the women is nearly as ungraceful, especially the head-dress, which consists of a great cushion fastened down by several handkerchiefs wrapped round the head.

The stranger continued rapidly to ascend to the upper part of the town, guiding his steps by the light of the moon, which in that bright clime sheds a radiance scarce less clear than the beams of day. He paused at length, when he had reached the gate of one of the largest and handsomest houses in the town. The Hydriotes, who are a wealthy people, are necessarily forced to assemble their best resources for comfort within doors, as it is scarcely possible even to walk out in their stony little isle, and they often render the interior of their dwellings quite luxurious. These are all built on the same plan, consisting of one story, with a flat roof; and some of the richer inhabitants are at the trouble of conveying a quantity of soil from Poros, which they spread on these terraces, so as to form a little garden on the house-top, which has a very singular effect within. The principal apartment, and that always inhabited by the family, is a vast hall, furnished with long divans and Persian carpets; and when it has been duly watered, so that the stone floor exhales a refreshing coolness, and draws out the odour of the orange trees, which are ranged round it in large vases, it would not be easy to find a more pleasant drawing-room. The door which opens to the street is never closed; so that the family may have the amusement of watching the passers-by, while themselves are equally exposed to the gaze of all without.

The house before which the stranger now stood was that of Athanasi Ducas, who had the double reputation of being one of the richest and most powerful men of the island, and possessor, at the same time, of a more beautiful wife than it had fallen to the lot of any other to obtain in their usual system of matrimonial negotiations. Such a man could not fail to be a very important personage just at