his
victory. Last night I was at a Greek marriage; but this and a thousand
things more I have neither time nor space to describe.

"I am going to-morrow, with a guard of fifty men, to Patras in the
Morea, and thence to Athens, where I shall winter. Two days ago I was
nearly lost in a Turkish ship of war, owing to the ignorance of the
captain and crew, though the storm was not violent. Fletcher yelled
after his wife, the Greeks called on all the saints, the Mussulmans on
Alla; the captain burst into tears and ran below deck, telling us to
call on God; the sails were split, the main-yard shivered, the wind
blowing fresh, the night setting in, and all our chance was to make
Corfu, which is in possession of the French, or (as Fletcher
pathetically termed it) 'a watery grave.' I did what I could to
console Fletcher, but finding him incorrigible, wrapped myself up in
my Albanian capote (an immense cloak), and lay down on deck to wait
the worst.[129] I have learnt to philosophise in my travels, and if I
had not, complaint was useless. Luckily the wind abated and only drove
us on the coast of Suli, on the main land, where we landed, and
proceeded, by the help of the natives, to Prevesa again; but I shall
not trust Turkish sailors in future, though the Pacha had ordered one
of his own galliots to take me to Patras. I am therefore going as far
as Missolonghi by land, and there have only to cross a small gulf to
get to Patras.

"Fletcher's next epistle will be full of marvels: we were one night
lost for nine hours in the mountains in a thunder-storm,[130] and
since nearly wrecked. In both cases Fletcher was sorely bewildered,
from apprehensions of famine and banditti in the first, and drowning
in the second instance. His eyes were a little hurt by the lightning,
or crying (I don't know which), but are now recovered. When you write,
address to me at Mr. Strane's, English consul, Patras, Morea.

"I could tell you I know not how many incidents that I think would
amuse you, but they crowd on my mind as much as they would swell my
paper, and I can neither arrange them in the one, nor put them down on
the other except in the greatest confusion. I like the Albanians much;
they are not all Turks; some tribes are Christians. But their religion
makes little difference in their manner or conduct. They are esteemed
the best troops in the Turkish service. I lived on my route, two days
at once, and three days again in a barrack at Salora, a