he dissentients;--for there are plenty of
differences, but trifling.

"It is imagined that we shall attempt either Patras or the castles on
the Straits; and it seems, by most accounts, that the Greeks, at any
rate, the Suliotes, who are in affinity with me of 'bread and
salt,'--expect that I should march with them, and--be it even so! If
any thing in the way of fever, fatigue, famine, or otherwise, should
cut short the middle age of a brother warbler,--like Garcilasso de la
Vega, Kleist, Korner, Joukoffsky[1] (a Russian nightingale--see
Bowring's Anthology), or Thersander, or,--or somebody else--but never
mind--I pray you to remember me in your 'smiles and wine.'

[Footnote 1: One of the most celebrated of the living poets of
Russia, who fought at Borodino, and has commemorated that battle in a
poem of much celebrity among his countrymen.]

"I have hopes that the cause will triumph; but whether it does or no,
still 'honour must be minded as strictly as milk diet,' I trust to
observe both,

"Ever," &c.

It is hardly necessary to direct the attention of the reader to the
sad, and but too true anticipation expressed in this letter--the last
but one I was ever to receive from my friend. Before we accompany him
to the closing scene of all his toils, I shall here, as briefly as
possible, give a selection from the many characteristic anecdotes
told of him, while at Cephalonia, where (to use the words of Colonel
Stanhope, in a letter from thence to the Greek committee,) he was
"beloved by Cephalonians, by English, and by Greeks;" and where,
approached as he was familiarly by persons of all classes and
countries, not an action, not a word is recorded of him that does not
bear honourable testimony to the benevolence and soundness of his
views, his ever ready but discriminating generosity, and the clear
insight, at once minute and comprehensive, which he had acquired into
the character and wants of the people and the cause he came to serve.
"Of all those who came to help the Greeks," says Colonel Napier, (a
person himself the most qualified to judge, as well from long local
knowledge, as from the acute, straightforward cast of his own mind,)
"I never knew one, except Lord Byron and Mr. Gordon, that seemed to
have justly estimated their character. All came expecting to find the
Peloponnesus filled with Plutarch's men, and all returned thinking
the inhabitants of Newgate more moral. Lord Byron judged them fairly:
he knew that