torrents is marked by a rich red fringe of oleanders, now in full bloom. A paved road winding along the course of the ravines, leads to a pass formed by a notch in the steep mountain-ridge.
On ascending to this pass a most striking view presents itself: on one side is seen the town of Mytilene, and the indented outline of the shore, for ever varied with headlands and bays, with a sea so calm and blue that the island looks as if it were inlaid in lapis lazuli; on the other side is Port Olivieri, a vast natural harbour, shut in by wooded lulls all round, without a sail, and with hardly a breeze to disturb the even repose of its surface. It takes its name from the olives which stretch along its fertile shores and up the steep sides of the surrounding mountains far as the eye can reach, investing all the land in the silver mantle of its verdure, which would be monotonous were it not relieved by the contrast of the deep blue water below.
Turning from the scenery of Mytilene to its present inhabitants, I experienced a painful shock. Nothing can be less in harmony than Nature and man in this favoured island. A faint tradition of European civilization is preserved in the few Smyrniote families who have settled here for the sake of consular appointments or trade, and whose half-dozen houses form the Frank quarter; but even in this society the interest in subjects such as we talk of in Europe is but small. The most congenial companion whom I have met with here is a Dr. Perotti, an old Piedmontese refugee, who, though a man of considerable acquirements, has
