t, well known to those who know the locality, that the day scarcely
occurs in the year when this island is afflicted with a calm. For some
reason it so happens that, pass when you will, you are pretty sure to
find a stiff breeze blowing. One of the points of the island, which
thrusts out into the sea a long and low promontory, shows that the
natives here know how to turn this physical provision to good effect.
This point is in the most curious way studded with windmills, and from
this its garniture has received its name in our geography. These poor
machines rarely know an hour's quiet, but continually throw about their
long arms in what, from a little distance, seems to be a mere confusion
of material. Past this exquisitely beautiful island, of whose strand the
recollection is fraught with associations of unfeverish existence, we
sped rapidly before the breeze, which almost made us regret the land we
were leaving. Truly should we have regretted it, had we but known the
breezeless condition on which we were about to enter! For some
four-and-twenty hours before we arrived at our port, the weather changed
eminently for the worse. The feathery vanes stirred not, and the canvass
flapped against the mast, as the old girl rolled lumpingly in the swell.
She was a dear old ship as ever floated, but like all other things
sublunary, animate, or inanimate, was not without her faults. Of these
the worst, nay, the only one to speak of, was the habit of rolling about
most viciously whenever she had a chance. The sun poured upon us such a
flood of heat, that awnings became a joke. Things were so thoroughly
heated during the day, that the night scarcely afforded sufficient hours
to cool them down, for a fresh start next morning. We began almost to
question whether we had not changed bad for worse; and very soon made up
our minds that without any mistake we had. We arrived at this
conclusion, as the port of our destination hove in sight. It was towards
evening that we crept in to our anchorage, through an atmosphere
scarcely sufficiently alive to give us motion, and so almost glowing
that it seemed to burn us as we passed. The place was wrapped in
breathless stillness: no boats came forth to try a market with us, or to
gratify their curiosity; and no sounds issued from the shore, which
might have been deemed almost unhaunted of men.

When daylight revealed the features of the place, we perceived the
pretensions of Adalia in the way of the