to a small rock
at some distance, he sent back a messenger for the nankeen trowsers
which he usually wore in bathing; and, though the sea was rough and
the night cold, it being then the 3d of January, swam back to the
vessel. "I am fully persuaded," says his valet, in relating this
imprudent freak, "that it injured my Lord's health. He certainly was
not taken ill at the time, but in the course of two or three days his
Lordship complained of a pain in all his bones, which continued, more
or less, to the time of his death."

Setting sail again next morning with the hope of reaching Missolonghi
before sunset, they were still baffled by adverse winds, and,
arriving late at night in the port, did not land till the morning of
the 5th.

The solicitude, in the mean time, of all at Missolonghi, knowing that
the Turkish fleet was out, and Lord Byron on his way, may without
difficulty be conceived, and is most livelily depicted in a letter
written during the suspense of that moment, by an eye-witness. "The
Turkish fleet," says Colonel Stanhope, "has ventured out, and is, at
this moment, blockading the port. Beyond these again are seen the
Greek ships, and among the rest the one that was sent for Lord Byron.
Whether he is on board or not is a question. You will allow that this
is an eventful day." Towards the end of the letter, he adds, "Lord
Byron's servants have just arrived; he himself will be here
to-morrow. If he had not come, we had need have prayed for fair
weather; for both fleet and army are hungry and inactive. Parry has
not appeared. Should he also arrive to-morrow, all Missolonghi will
go mad with pleasure."

The reception their noble visiter experienced on his arrival was such
as, from the ardent eagerness with which he had been looked for,
might be expected. The whole population of the place crowded to the
shore to welcome him: the ships anchored off the fortress fired a
salute as he passed; and all the troops and dignitaries of the place,
civil and military, with the Prince Mavrocordato at their head, met
him on his landing, and accompanied him, amidst the mingled din of
shouts, wild music, and discharges of artillery, to the house that
had been prepared for him. "I cannot easily describe," says Count
Gamba, "the emotions which such a scene excited. I could scarcely
refrain from tears."

After eight days of fatigue such as Lord Byron had endured, some
short interval of rest might fairly have been desired by hi