cher commence a sermon, it was
"d----d hot." Start not, ladies of Belgravia, for the preacher in
question belonged not to the Anglican communion; he held forth to mere
vulgar audiences, at least, in a remote locality. Thrice he repeated
the expression (which I will not), and then improved the occasion by
describing a place hotter than the crowded chapel in which he was
officiating, in the month of July. He was evidently in his element. He
was especially hot against those modern spirits, who are not such
faithful believers in the burning flames of the lower regions, and
even begin to imagine they may have cooled down, if they have not been
quite extinguished. "And if"--he cried, in his ardour--"if they were
on the point of being extinguished, I would with my own breath
rekindle the expiring flame!" And his voice, which sounded like a gale
of wind, and his face, red as a furnace, and his enormous fists
fiercely clenched, made it appear to the congregation, for the moment,
that this terrifying assertion was no exaggeration. But to return to
the sirocco.

In spite, or rather by reason of the heat, I went for a stroll on the
sea-shore with Nero, that we might cool our wearied limbs in the azure
wave of the Mediterranean. We had been walking along the shore for
about a mile, when about twenty Arab dogs rushed out most ferociously
at Nero, and would, I believe, have torn him to pieces, but for the
large hunting-whip with which I managed to keep them at bay. There was
with me a young Maltese boy, of Irish parentage--a most amusing
character this urchin was. He wanted me to take him into the interior
as my interpreter. "Take me wid you, sir," was his eloquent appeal;
"give me pound a month, sir; tell Arabs you brother of Queen Victoria,
sir; Arabs great fools, sir; know no better, sir;" but I was proof
against the voice of the charmer.

In returning, I met General Martinprez on horseback, and saluted; of
course, he returned my greeting most graciously. But I was not a
little amused, and could hardly help laughing, when the young
Hiberno-Maltese tatterdemalion took off his dirty cap with a flourish
to the General, simultaneously with my salute, as if he had been my
confidential friend, taking a promenade with me.

That evening I went to the theatre. The piece performed was "_Les
Femmes Terribles_"--and a terribly Gallic flavour there was diffused
over the whole performance--a kind of _haut gout_, for which we stolid
islanders