arches facing the
sea, but the wooden coverings were long since removed, and they now form
favorite promenades, open to the sky.

Yielding to the fancy of the moment, while standing upon this elevated
point, remembering the vivid historical tableaux which had been enacted
upon the landscape outspread before us, imagination peopled the scene
once more with myriads of grim, warlike, contending forces arrayed
against each other. One was closely following the standard of the
crescent, the other was ranged beneath the emblem of the
cross,--standing breast to breast, ready to meet the fierce onslaught.
The clash of arms was heard upon the ramparts, the shrill braying of
trumpets sounding the charge, and the steady roll of the drum. In fancy
we watched the hordes of frenzied Turks storming the high walls of Fort
St. Elmo, hastening up the scaling ladders by scores. We saw them
repulsed again and again by the stout arms and flashing weapons of the
gallant Knights of St. John; the ditch was piled with the lifeless
bodies of the Ottoman foe. The atmosphere trembled with the booming of
cannon, the wild shouts of the Mussulmans, the cheering battle-cry of
the Christians, and the pitiful groans of the dying, while the
surrounding waters were red with human gore. Now clouds of smoke
encompass both Turks and Christians. A mine explodes, scattering death
among the invaders. Hark! That trumpet sounds the retreat. The Ottoman
forces fall sullenly back from before the irresistible power of the
Christian arms, leaving half their brethren slain upon the ground. The
enemy goes down under the terrible sweeping blows of battle-axe and of
mace, like grass before the scythe. Loud rings the shout of victory from
the walls of St. Elmo, echoed by forts St. Angelo and St. Michael, while
deadly missiles are swiftly launched after the retreating foe.

One was fain to ask, "Is this actually the noise of contending armies,
or is it the trick of an overstimulated fancy?" Here, amid such
suggestive surroundings, how natural and real it seemed to be!

It is only as regards its great antiquity that one would contrast Malta
with our own country. What we are most deficient in is a background in
America,--a background to our national scenery, which in itself is
hardly equaled, and nowhere excelled. By the word "background" we mean
the charm of far-reaching history, legend, classic story, and memories
of bygone ages. We have no such special inspiration as is