REMINISCENCES OF TRAVEL. 241 hours in crossing the channel, during which time I strove to bring to mind the varied and most interesting scenes through which I had passed since I left Corfu in the middle of the preceding August. I recalled the thrilling sight which I had beheld at Vienna, in the triumphal entry of Radetzky and Jellachich into the capital of that grand old Austrian empire, which their gallant arms and brave hearts had saved after a year's death-struggle: then the day which I had spent in the imperial camp before Comorn-the vast masses of the regular troops of Russia and Austria, blended with the Cossacks, and with the Croats and Pandours-those wild warriors from the military frontier, that bloody "debatable land" between Christendom and Islam-who have twice, in 1742 and 1848, rescued the House of Hapsburg from deadly peril; then the lonely plains and silent villages of Southern Hungary, desolated by the recent war; then the rapids of the Danube, and the scenery of the Iron Gate; then all the pride and pomp of Constantinople, and the lovely shores of the Bosphorus; then the lordly monasteries of Athos, the classic gorge of Tempe, the rich plains of Thessaly, the stern mountains of Epirus, with the sweet features of many a famous valley, and the grey M ruins of many an ancient city, "half as old as Time." All the striking contrasts of my life for the last three months passed before my mind's eye-from the brilliant reviews of Vienna, where I had seen the young Emperor ride forth, surrounded by all the most illustrious defenders of his throne, to the wild moors of Turkey, where the wandering Wallachs pitch their tents-from the bazaars of Constantinople, humming like beehives with the crowd of buyers and sellers, to the lonely convent in the mountains of Suli, where I listened the live-long night to the howling of the wolves. I had stood under the dome of the Walhalla, that common sanctuary of our great Teutonic family; and I had searched for the site of Dodona, that primeval oracle of the first nation of antiquity. From the cloudy skies, chilly climate, well-known foliage, and accustomed dresses of the North, with its stately cathedrals and gorgeous palaces, my memory passed far away over broad rivers, vast plains, and barren mountains, to the bright sun, the balmy air, and the luxuriant vegetation of the East-the spreading planes, older than the Ottoman Empire, which had sheltered me at noon; the rich tracery of the mosques; the tall slender minarets, where the Imaum prays with his face to Mecca; the turbans and the flowing robes of every colour, which make a crowd of Orientals to resemble, in the words of one of their own. poets, a garden of tulips-in short, to a strange people, holding a strange faith, and writing strange characters from right to left. And it is a delightful feeling for an Englishman, as Mr. Warburton has remarked, after thus passing through countries restless with revolutionary excitement, or degraded by long misgovernment, to find himself once more under the strong arm and gentle influences of his own glorious country. England's flag is flying on the citadel; England's martial music is re-echoed by the grey rocks of the Corcyræan Acropolis, as the soldiers are marching back from church; and, after having passed my quarantine, diminished to two days, at the Lazaretto, on Wednesday, Nov. 21, English hands and familiar English faces welcome me back to Christendom and civilization. I cannot wind up my journal better than by quoting a stanza written on arriving at Gibraltar, under the influence of sentiments akin to what I now feel : 66 England! we love thee better than we know ; I heard at length thy martial music blow, Pace, keeping ward before those mighty gates, 2 Trench's Poems. APPENDIX. A WORK like the present is not the place for a regular discussion of that most interesting subject, the probable destiny of the Turks and Greeks. The great Oriental question is simply this: How will the East be cut up if Turkey falls, as most men believe must be her lot at no very distant period? Which of her provinces will be seized by Russia? which by Austria? Will France pounce on Syria, or England on Egypt? We trust that the time is not very remote, when civilization, advancing gradually eastward, will achieve a bloodless conquest in those European provinces, where the finest country in the most genial climate of the world, has long, under the barbarous despotism of the Turks, been more wasted by peace, than other lands have been wasted by war; where science is unknown; where arts and manufactures languish; where agriculture de |