assorted alliance between two of the strongest harbours in the world and the first maritime power on the globe.

If, like the French, we had taken the island from the knights, however degraded, worn out, and useless their Order might have become, yet Europe in general, and France in particular, might always have reproached us, and for aught we know, our own consciences might have become a little tender on the subject. But the delightful truth is, that no power in Europe can breathe a word or a syllable against our possession of the island of Malta-it is an honour in open daylight we have fairly won, and I humbly say, long, very long, may we wear it'

With respect to the Maltese themselves, I just at this moment recollect a trifling story which will, I think, delineate their character with tolerable accuracy.

THE RENEGADE.

Of all the little unhappy prejudices which in different parts of the globe it has been my fortune, or rather misfortune, to witness, I nowhere remember to have met with a deeper-rooted hatred or a more implacable animosity than existed, some twenty or thirty years ago, in the hearts of the Maltese towards the Turks. In all warm glowing latitudes, human passions, good as well as bad, may be said to stand at least at that degree which on Fahrenheit's scale would be denoted "fever heat;" and steam itself can hardly be more different from ice,-the Bengal tiger springing on his prey cannot form a greater contrast to that half-frozen fisherman the white bear, as he sits on his iceberg sucking his paws,-than are the passions of hot countries when compared with the cold torpid feelings of the inhabitants of the northern regions of the globe.

In all parts of the Mediterranean I found passions of all sorts very violent, but, without any exception, that which, at the period I refer to, stood uppermost in the scale, was bigotry. Besides the eager character which belonged to their latitude, one might naturally expect that the Maltese, from being islanders, would be rather more prejudiced than their continental neighbours; however, in addition to these causes, when I was among them, they really had good reason to dislike the Turks, who during the time of the knights had been ex officio their constant and most bitter enemies.

Whether these fine knights of Jerusalem conquered the Turks or were defeated, the Maltese on board their galleys (like the dwarf who fought with the giant) always suffered : besides this, their own little trading vessels were constantly captured by the Turks, the crews being not only maltreated and tortured, but often in cold blood cruelly massacred; in short, if there was any bad feeling in the heart of a Maltese, which the history of his

island, as well as every bitter recollection of his life, seemed naturally to nourish, it was an implacable hatred for the Turks; and that this sad theory was most fully supported by the fact, became evident the instant one observed a Maltese, on the commonest subject, utter that hated, ac cursed word, "Turco," or Turk. The sort of petty convulsion of the mind with which this dissyllable was delivered was really very remarkable, and the roll and flash of the eye-the little bully ing shake of the head-the slight stamp of the left foot-and the twitch in the fingers of the right hand, reminded one for the moment of the manner in which a French dragoon, when describing an action, mentions that his regiment came on "sabre à la main !"-words which, if you were to give him the universe, he could not pronounce without grinding his teeth, much less with that cold-hearted simplicity with which one of our soldiers would calmly say "sword in hand."

This hatred of the Maltese towards the Turks was a sort of cat and dog picture which always attracted my notice; however, I witnessed one example of it, on which occasion I felt very strongly it was carried altogether beyond a joke.

One lovely morning-I remember it as if it were yesterday-there had been a great religious fetival in the island, which, as usual, had caused a good deal of excitement, noise, and fever; and, as a nation seldom allays its thirst without quarrelling, as soon as the hot sun set, a great many still hotter disturbances took place. In one of these rows, a party of Turks, justly or unjustly, became offended with the inhabitants; an affray occurred, and a Mahometan having stabbed a Maltese, he was of course thrown into prison; and in process of time, surrounded by a strong guard, he was led into the Maltese court to be tried (Anglicè, condemned) for the offence. As he threaded his way through the crowd which had assembled in those dirty passages and dark chambers that led to the tribunal, the women shrunk back as the "Turco" passed them, as if his very breath would have infected them with the plague; while in the countenances of the men, as they leant forwards arresting him in his progress, and almost touching him with their brown faces, it was evident that they were all animated with but one feeling and one desire, that is to say, hatred and revenge: however, nothing was heard but a very slight murmur or groan, and the prisoner was soon seen a little raised above the crowd, trembling at the bar. He was a diminutive, mean looking, ill-favoured little fellow, dressed in the loose Turkish costume, with a very small dirty white turban, the folds of which were deemed more odious to the Christian eye than if they had been formed by the wreathing body of the serpent. While the crowd were shouldering each other, head peeping over head, and before the shuffling of moving feet could be silenced, avvocati, or clerks, who sat in the small space between the prisoner and the bench, were seen eagerly mending their

pens, and they had already dipped them into ink, and the coarse, dirty, rough-edged paper on which they were to write was folded and placed ready in front of them, before it was possible to commence the trial.

The court was insufferably hot, and there was such a stench of garlic and of clothing impregnated with the stale fumes of tobacco, that one longed almost as much as the prisoner to escape into the open air, while the sallow faces of the avvocati, clerks, and every one connected with the duties of the court, showed how unhealthy, as well as offensive, was the atmosphere which they breathed. On the bench sat what one must call the Judges, but to an English mind such a title but ill belonged to those who had only lately been forced, most reluctantly, to expel torture from their code. Just before Malta fell into the hands of the French and English, my own servant, Giuseppe, had lived in the service of one of the Maltese Judges; and among many horrors which he often very calmly described to me, (for he had witnessed them until he had become quite accustomed to them,) he told me that he had had constantly to pass through a court in which were those who were doomed to ride upon what was called the "cavallo di legno," or wooden horse. With weights attached to each foot he used to see them sitting bolt upright on this sharp narrow ridge, with two torches burning within a few inches of their naked chests and backs, in order that they should relieve themselves by a change of attitude no longer than they could endure the pain of leaning against the flame. But to return to the court. The trial of the Turk now began, and every rigid form was most regularly followed. The accusation was read-the story was detailed-the Maltese witnesses in great numbers one after another corroborated almost in the same words the same statement-several times when the prisoner was ordered to be silent, as by some ejacu lation he interrupted the thread of the narrative, did the eyes of every being in court flash in anger and contempt upon him, their countenances as suddenly returning to a smile as the evidence of the witnesses proceeded with their criminatory details. At last, the case being fully substantiated, the culprit was called upon for his defence. Although a poor, mean, illiterate wretch, it is possible he might have intended to have made a kind of a sort of a speech; but when he came to the point, his heart failed him, and his lips had only power to utter one single word.

Regardless of the crowd, as if it had not existed, looking as if he thought there was no object in creation but the central Judge on the bench, he fixed his eyes for some moments upon his cold, immoveable countenance, until overpowered by his feelings, almost sinking into the ground, he clasped his hands, and in an agony of expression, which it is quite impossible to describe, he asked for "MERCY!"

"Nix standy! I don't understand ye!" said an old English soldier one day, in the Bois de Bou logne, to a French general, who, with much gesture and grimace, was telling him in French, that the English were acting against the laws of nations in thus cutting down so beautiful a forest as the said Bois de Boulogne. "Nix standy!" repeated the soldier, continuing to hack with all his might at the young tree which he had almost cut down with his sabre. The very same answer was strongly expressed in the countenance of the Judge, to the petition of the unhappy Turk, who, had he been in the desert of Africa, might just as well have asked merely for the ocean, as, in a Maltese court, to have supplicated for mercy. For some time the Judge sat in awful silence-then whispered a few words to his colleagues-again all was silent: at last, when some little forms had been observed, the Chief Judge pronounced a sentence on the prisoner, which he might just as well have done without his having endured the pain and anxiety of a long trial. It is hardly worth while mentioning the sentence; for, of course, it was that the Turco, being guilty of the murder of the Maltese, was to be hanged by the neck till he was dead; every word of which sentence was most ravenously devoured by the audience: and the trial being now over, the prisoner was hurried away to his dungeon, while the crowd eagerly rushed into the hot sunshine and open air.

A very considerable time elapsed between the sentence and the day fixed for execution. Where the prisoner was—what were his feelings-how he was fed-" and how he fared-no one knew, and no one cared :" however, on the last day of his existence, I happened to be riding along Strada Forni, when I heard a bellowing sort of a blast from a cow's horn, which I instantly knew to be the signal that a fellow creature was going to the gallows. In any country in the world, the monotonous moan which proceeds from this wild uncouth instrument would be considered as extremely harsh and disagreeable; but at Malta, where the ear has been constantly accustomed to good Italian music, and to listen to nothing more discordant than the lovely and love-making notes of the guitar, this savage whoop was indescribably offensive, particularly being accompanied by the knowledge that it was the death-march, and the dirge of the murderer-" the knell, that summoned him to heaven or to hell!"

As I rode towards Strada Reale, the principal street of Valetta, down which the procession was proceeding,a dismal blast from this horn was heard about every ten seconds; and, as it sounded louder and louder, it was evident the procession was approaching. At last, on coming to the corner of the street, I saw the culprit advancing on his funeral car. The streets on both sides were lined with spectators, and every window was filled with outstretched figures and eager faces. In the middle of Strada Reale, preceding the prisoner, were

three or four mutes; while several others were also begging in different parts of the town. These people, who belonged to some of the principal Maltese families, were covered from head to foot with long, loose robes of white linen, a couple of holes being cut for their eyes. Their feet were bare, and to each ankle was affixed a chain of such weight and length that it was as much as they could do to drag one leg after the other. In the right hand they held a tin money-box, in the shape of a lantern, with death's head and bloody bones painted upon it. A small slit in this box received the copper contributions of the multitude; and, as these mutes passed me in horrid triumph, shaking the box every step they took, (the rattling of the money forming a sort of savage accompaniment to the deep clanking of their chains,) they had altogether an unearthly appearance, which certainly seemed less to belong to heaven than to hell; however, the malefactor now approached, and as soon as he came up to the corner of my street, I, loosening my rein, rode for a few moments at his side, attracted by one of the strangest scenes which I think I have ever beheld. The man was half sitting, half reclining, on a sort of low, rattling, iron vehicle, of an indescribable shape, which raised his head a little above the level of the people; and the very moment I looked him in the face, much of the secret history of what had passed since the day of his condemnation was as legible in his countenance as if it had been written there. He had been existing in some dark place, for his complexion was blanched by absence from light-he had evidently been badly fed, for there was famine in his sunken features-his nerves were gone, for he was trembling -his health had materially been impaired, either by suffering of body or mind, for the man was evidently extremely ill—and last, though not least, for some mysterious reason, either from an expectation of obtaining mercy in this world or in the next, he had evidently abjured his religion, for his dirty white turban was gone, and, very ill at his ease, he sat, or rather reclined, in the clothes of a Christian!

The car on which he proceeded was surrounded by an immense number of priests, belonging to the different churches of Valetta, and apparently to those also of all the casals and villages in the island. All angry feelings had most completely subsided; in their minds, as well as in the minds of the people, the day was one only of triumph and joy; and, intoxicated with the spirit of religious enthusiasm, the priests were evidently beside themselves with joy at having succeeded in the miraculous conversion which they had effected.— Shouldering and pushing each other with all their strength, with outstretched arms, and earnest countenances, they were all, in different attitudes and voices, calling upon the malefactor to repeat the name of their own particular saint; some behind him were trying to attract his notice by pull

ing his clothes, while those before him, by dint of voice and gesture, were equally endeavouring to catch his eye; and such a confused cry of "Viva San Tommaso!" "Viva San Giuseppe !" "Viva San Giovanni!" "Viva San Paolo!" I will not pretend to describe. It was, of course, impossible for the wretch to comply with all their noisy demands; yet, poor fellow, he did his best; and, in a low faint voice, being dreadfully exhausted by the jolting and shaking of the carriage, he repeated "Viva San Paolo!" etc. etc., as he caught the eye of the different priests. He had evidently no rule in these exclamations which he uttered, for I observed that the strong brawny-shouldered priests, who got nearest to him, often made him repeat the name of their saints twice, before the little bandy-legged ones in the rear could get him to mention theirs once. As this strange concert proceeded, it was impossible to help pitying the poor culprit; for, if one had been travelling from one magnificent palace to another, to be so jolted and tormented both in body and mind when one was ill, would by any of us have been termed dreadfully disagreeable; but for all this to happen to a man just at the very moment he was going to be hanged-at that moment of all others in which any of us would desire to be left to his own reflections--appeared at the time to be hard indeed. After passing under the great gate and subterraneous exit called Porta Reale, the procession wound its way across the drawbridges, and along the deep ditches, etc., of the fortification, until coming out upon the great esplanade which lies between Valetta and Floriana, an immense crowd of people was suddenly seen waiting round the gallows-at the sight of which I pulled up. The priests were now more eager than ever in beseeching the criminal to call upon the name of their saint;-the mutes, whose white robes in all directions were seen scattered among the people, were evidently shaking their boxes more violently than ever, while among the crowd there was a general lifting of feet, which showed the intense anxiety of their feelings.

As the procession slowly approached the gallows, I could not hear what was going on; but in a very short time, from the distance at which I stood, I saw the man led up the ladder by the executioner, who continued always a step or two above him: the rope was round his neck, and resting loosely on the culprit's head there was something like a round wooden plate, through a hole in the centre of which the rope passed. As soon as the poor creature got high up on the ladder, the vociferations of the priests suddenly ceasfor a few seconds a dead silence ensued, when, all of a sudden, there was a simultaneous burst or shriek of exclamation from priests and populace, echoing and re-echoing the words "Viva la Christianità!" which the man, in a low tone of voice, had just been persuaded to utter. All caps waved-every human being seemed to be con

ed;

gratulating each other on the delightful conversion; and no person seemed to pay the slightest possible attention to the poor wretch, who, with the last syllable on his lips, had been pushed off the ladder, and was now calmly swinging in the air, the executioner standing on the loose wooden plate above his head, holding by the rope, and, with many antics, stamping with all his force to break the neck, while the people, in groups, were already bending their steps homewards. Not wishing to encounter such a crowd, I turned my horse in another direction, and passed a number of mules and asses belonging to many of the people who had come from the most remote casals to see the execution. The animals were all standing half asleep, nodding their heads in the sun-a herd of goats were as quietly grazing near the ramparts; and when I contrasted the tranquillity which these animals were enjoying, with the scene I had just witnessed, I could not help feeling that I had more cause than Virgil to exclaim-" Sic ros non vobis !"

In returning from my ride I had to cross the esplanade, and as there was then no one at the gallows, I rode close by it. The figure, which was still hanging, was turning round very slowly, as if it were roasting before the sun; the neck was so completely disjointed that the head almost hung downwards, and as I rode by it I was much struck in observing that the tongue was out of the mouth half bitten off-a dreadful emblem, thought I, of a renegade to his religion! Whether or not the poor wretch had been induced to utter his last exclamation, from a hollow promise that it would save his life, is a mystery which will probably never on this earth be explained to us; however, whatever was his creed, it is impossible to deny that when he swung from this world to eternity, he had but little reason to admire the practical part of a Roman Catholic's mercy, however unanswerably its theory might have been explained to him.

As soon as I got to Valetta, I put up my horse, and, strolling about the streets, soon found myself in the immense church of St. John, which, in point of size and magnificence, is only second in the weld to St. Peter's, at Rome. The congregation was almost exclusively composed of the people who had attended the execution, and quantities of men, as well as women, shrouded in their black silk faldettes, were listening to a tall, strong-looking Capuchin friar, who, with great emphasis, was preaching from a high pulpit, placed at a projecting angle of one of the many chapels which ramified from the aisle or great body of the church. He was a remarkably handsome man, of about thirty, and though his face was pale, or rather brown, yet his eye and features were strikingly vivid and intellectual; a rim or band of jet-black hair encircled his head, the rest of his hair by a double tonsure having been shaved at the top and from ear to ear; his throat was completely uncovered, and as he suddenly turned from one part of his

congregation to another, his earnest attitudes were very beautiful. His brown sackcloth cowl hung in folds over his shoulders, and the loose negligent manner in which a cloak of the same coarse material hung upon his body, being apparently merely kept together by the white rope, or whip of knots, which encircled his waist, displayed a series of lines which any painter might well have copied ; indeed, the whole dress of the Capuchins has been admirably well imagined, and above all others is it calculated to impress upon the mind of the spectator that its wearer is a man doomed to abstinence and mortification, seeking no enjoyment on this side of the grave, and never lowering his eyes from heaven, but fervently to exclaim

"Vam pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye!"

The subject of the sermon was, of course, the execution which we had all witnessed. The hardhearted infidelity of the Turks was very richly painted and described, and the crime which they had just seen expiated was clearly proved to be the effect, and the natural effect, of a Mahometan's anger. The happy conversion of the infidel then became a subject which was listened to with the most remarkable stillness, and every eye was riveted upon the mouth of the Capuchin, as he minutely detailed the triumph and the conquest which had been made of the sheep which had that day, before their eyes, been added to the flock. He then explained, or endeavoured to explain (for it was no very easy task), that the money which had that morning been collected for the purchase of masses proved to be just sufficient to purify the soul of the departed sinner; but this, he very eloquently demonstrated, was only to be effected through the mediation of one whose image nailed to the cross was actually erected in the pulpit on his right hand. After expatiating on this subject at considerable length, working himself and his hearers into a state of very great excitement, with both his arms stretched out, with figure, exclaiming in a most emphatic tone of his eyes uplifted, he most fervently addressed the

voice-" Si! mio caro Signore! Si!" etc. The effect which was instantly produced in the hearts of his hearers was very evident, and the fine melodious voice, together with the strong, nervous, muscular attitude of the preacher, contrasted with the drooping, exhausted, lifeless image above him, would have worked its effect upon the mind of any Christian spectator.

As soon as the sermon was over, the congregation dispersed. The day ended in universal joy and festivity; no revengeful recollections-no unkind feelings were entertained towards him who had been the principal actor of that day; on the contrary, the Maltese seemed rather to feel, that it was to him they were especially indebted for the pleasurable performance they had witnessed, and thus-

'In peaceful merriment ran down the sun's declining ray."

SCHLANGENBAD; OR, THE SERPENTS' BATH.

TIME had glided along so agreeably ever since my arrival at Langen-Schwalbach, my body had enjoyed such perpetual motion, my mind such absolute rest, that I had almost forgotten, though my holiday was nearly over, I had not yet reached the intended nec plus ultra of my travels-namely, Schlangenbad, or the Serpents' Bath. On the spur of the moment, therefore, I ordered a carriage; and, with my wallet lying by my side, having bidden adieu to a simple-hearted village, which, for the short remainder of my days, I believe, I shall remember with regard, I continued for some time gradually to ascend its eastern boundary, until I arrived nearly at the summit or pinnacle of the Taunus hills. The view from this point was very extensive indeed, and the park-like appearance of the whole of the lofty region or upper story of Nassau formed a prospect at once noble and pleasing. The Langen-Schwalbach band of wind-instruments was playing deep beneath me in the valley, but hidden by the fog, its sound was so driven about by the wind, that had I not recognized the tunes I but faintly heard, I should not have been able to determine from what point of the compass they proceeded. Sometimes they seemed to rise, like the mist, from one valley-sometimes from another-occasionally I fancied they were like the hurricane, sweeping across the surface of the country, and once I could almost have declared that the Æolian band was calmly seated above me in the air.

The numberless ravines which intersect Nassau were not discernible from the spot where my carriage had halted, and Langen-Schwalbach was so muffled in its peaceful retreat, that a stranger could scarcely have guessed it existed.

From this elevated point the Taunus hills began gradually to fall towards Wiesbaden and Frankfort; but a branch road, suddenly turning to the right, rapidly descended, or rather meandered down a long, rocky, narrow ravine, clothed with beech and oak-trees to its summit.

With a wheel of the carriage dragged, as I glided fast down this romantic valley, the scenery, compared with what I had just left, was on a very confined, contracted scale-in short, nothing was to be seen but a trickling stream running down the grassy bottom of a valley, and hills which appeared to environ it on both sides; besides this, the road writhed and bent so continually, that I could seldom see a quarter of a mile of it at once.

After descending about three quarters of a league, I came to a new turn, and here SCHLANGENBAD, the SERPENTS' BATH, dressed in its magic mantle of tranquillity, suddenly appeared not only before, but within less than a hundred yards of me.

This secluded spot, to which such a number of people annually retreat, consists of nothing but an

immense old building, or "Bad-Haus," a new one, with two or three little mills, which, fed, as it were, by the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table, are turned by the famous spring of water, after fine, fashionable ladies have done washing themselves in it.

When the carriage stopped, my first impression (which but too often, I regret to say, has been an erroneous one) was not in favour of the place; for, though its colours were certainly very beautiful, yet, from being so completely surrounded by hills, it seemed to wear some of the features of a prison; and when, my vehicle driving away, I was first left by myself, I felt for a moment that the little band of music, which was playing upon the terrace above my head, was not quite competent to enliven the scene. However, after I had walked in various directions about this sequestered spot, sufficiently not only to become acquainted with its locale, but to discover that it possessed a number of modest beauties, completely veiled from the passing gaze of the stranger, I went to the old "Bad-Haus," to obtain rooms from the bathmaster, (appointed by the Duke,) who has charge of both these great establishments.

I found the little man seated in his office, in the agony of calculating upon a slate the amount of seven times nine; perceiving, however, that instead of multiplying the two figures together, he had reared up a ladder of seven nines, which he was slowly ascending, step by step, I felt quite unwilling to interrupt him; and as his wife appeared to be gifted with all or many of the little abilities in which he might have been deficient, I gladly availed myself of her offer to show me over the two buildings, in order that I might select some apartments.

The old "Bad-Haus," and Hotel de Nassau, which, being united together, form one of the two great buildings I have mentioned, are situated on the side of the hill close to the macadamized road which leads to Mainz; and to give some idea of the gigantic scale on which these sorts of German bathing establishments are constructed, I will state, that in this rambling "Bad-Haus" I counted 443 windows, and that, without ever twice going over the same ground, I found the passages measured 409 paces, or, as nearly as possible, a quarter of a mile!

Below this immense barrack, and on the opposite side of the road, is the new "Bad-Haus," or bathing-house, pleasantly situated in a shrubbery. This building (which contains 172 windows) is of a modern construction, and straddling across the bottom of the valley, the celebrated water, which rises milk-warm from the rock, after supplying the baths on the lower story, runs from beneath it. No sooner, however, does the fluid escape from the building, than a group of poor washerwomen, standing up to their knees on a sheet, which is stretched upon the ground, humbly make use of it before it has time to get to the two little mills