derfully well, and indeed I have no complaints
against any one. Hospitality here is necessary, for inns are not. I
have lived in the houses of Greeks, Turks, Italians, and
English--to-day in a palace, to-morrow in a cowhouse; this day with a
Pacha, the next with a shepherd. I shall continue to write briefly,
but frequently, and am glad to hear from you; but you fill your
letters with things from the papers, as if English papers were not
found all over the world. I have at this moment a dozen before me.
Pray take care of my books, and believe me, my dear mother,

yours," &c.

The greater part of the two following months he appears to have
occupied in making a tour of the Morea;[140] and the very
distinguished reception he met with from Veley Pacha, the son of Ali,
is mentioned with much pride, in more than one of his letters.

On his return from this tour to Patras, he was seized with a fit of
illness, the particulars of which are mentioned in the following
letter to Mr. Hodgson; and they are, in many respects, so similar to
those of the last fatal malady, with which, fourteen years afterwards,
he was attacked, in nearly the same spot, that, livelily as the
account is written, it is difficult to read it without melancholy:--

LETTER 48.

TO MR. HODGSON.

"Patras, Morea, October 3. 1810.

"As I have just escaped from a physician and a fever, which confined
me five days to bed, you won't expect much 'allegrezza' in the ensuing
letter. In this place there is an indigenous distemper, which, when
the wind blows from the Gulf of Corinth (as it does five months out of
six), attacks great and small, and makes woful work with visiters.
Here be also two physicians, one of whom trusts to his genius (never
having studied)--the other to a campaign of eighteen months against
the sick of Otranto, which he made in his youth with great effect.

"When I was seized with my disorder, I protested against both these
assassins;--but what can a helpless, feverish, toast-and-watered poor
wretch do? In spite of my teeth and tongue, the English consul, my
Tartar, Albanians, dragoman, forced a physician upon me, and in three
days vomited and glystered me to the last gasp. In this state I made
my epitaph--take it:--

"Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove,
To keep my lamp _in_ strongly strove;
But Romanelli was so stout,
He beat all three--and _blew_ it _out_.

But Nature and Jove, being piqued at my doubts, did, in f