duce of these lands now forms the principal revenue of the Turkish government in Albania. On one occasion Ali wished to send a pilgrim to Mecca, and the conscientious scruples of a common cadi prevented the execution of his design, which is considered by Mahometans to be an act of devotion little inferior to that of going in person, but Ali was moved to it by the additional incitement of his mother having enjoined it in her will. The law prescribes that the expense of a proxy shall be met by the sale of a portion of the lands of the sender, in order that a positive sacrifice may be made in accomplishing such a vow. Now the tenure of all the property which was virtually owned by Ali Pasha was so bad, that the cadi declared he did not possess sufficient lands with a legitimate title to cover with their price the outlay required. So that the powerful and wealthy pasha was obliged to give up his holy intention for want of the pecuniary means, although his excessive avarice devised, and had recourse to, every lawful and unlawful expedient for extortion and confiscation.

He was even prompted by his insatiable thirst of gold to enter into engagements with astrologers, and to fit up a laboratory, for the purpose of labouring in search of the philosopher's stone and of the elixir vitæ ; as he aimed at the attainment of immortality as well as great wealth. They did not satisfy his wish on either point; but he was, nevertheless, immensely wealthy, and lived to the age of eighty-two, when his head was sent to Constantinople by desire of Sultan Machmoud. These alchemists, however, were kept at work during five years, and, as they had not succeeded, he had their heads cut off, and their utensils thrown

away.

The cruelty of Ali Pasha gives a sufficient demonstration of the evils the people are exposed to in Turkey, where the character of their immediate governor is prone to such excesses. This noted Tissaphernes of Albania was in the habit of saying that his mind and genius resembled those of Napoleon Bonaparte; but the accounts of him which have been authenticated would rather suggest a comparison with Nero. He certainly was, like both of those emperors, one of the most remarkable characters of his age; and, according to his own assertion, he was the second of his race who had raised himself to power, as he traced his descent from the great Albanian conqueror, George Castriot, better known by the name of Scanderbeg, and styled by himself Prince of Epirus. The atrocities and enormities which Ali Pasha committed baffle all description; for, not satisfied with the power of arbitrarily disposing of human life, without further trial and judgment than the report of the accuser, he was in the habit of adding to the pains of death the most excruciating tortures. And, indeed, most of the pashas still regulate the grade of suffering which is inflicted at the execution of the condemned. One public proof of this still existed at Jannina, not many years since, in an elevated log of wood covered with sharp iron hooks, which occupied a conspicuous position in the town. On this most bar

barous instrument of torture, criminals, real or supposed, were flung naked, to suffer a lingering death; enduring often to the second or third day before a period was put to their agony. This infamous scaffold was removed by the worthy Mustapha Pasha, who subsequently governed the province; and, to his infinite credit also, he much modified the previous practice in Albania in respect to executions and tor

tures. Mustapha was a man of a mild and humane disposition, and the pashalik, which was fortunate enough to be intrusted to his charge, was, for the time, relieved from the general pressure of the barbarous tyranny of the Turks; but such are rare exceptions.

An instance of the atrocious ferocity displayed by Turkish authorities, in the torturing of unhappy victims against whom little, if any, cause of guilt can be shown, took place at Salonika. Such cases have now ceased to be so frequent in the capital, and travellers thence infer that they have become obsolete in Turkey; but in the provinces it is different, for events like the following are there of not unfrequent occurrence, and they speak for themselves. The wife of a Moslem officer had been murdered, with her two children and her niece, during the night, but no trace was found to lead to the discovery of the assassins. The pasha recurred, without hesitation, to the unwarrantable expedient of putting to torture the whole of the Greek inhabitants of the street where the crime had been committed. These unfortunate wretches, as little cognisant of the murder as the pasha himself, were chained by the neck in an upright posture, so as to prevent their changing their attitude without hanging themselves. For twelve days, under this infliction, they persisted in denying any guilt, and a new torture was resorted to. Heated iron collars were put round their necks, although, unfortunately for them, neither hot enough nor tight enough to produce death by burning the arteries of the neck; they were then laid on their backs, and charcoal fires lit on their bare chests; their temples were compressed with screws; and they were pricked with red-hot needles. At length the English consul, having been apprised of these detestable barbarities, remonstrated with Mustapha Pasha, then Vizier of Jannina, and the superior of the brutal pasha who had ordered these horrors; his interference prevailed, and the wretched sufferers were released. But this result was entirely owing to the fortunate circumstance of the governor being such a man as Mustapha, whose philanthropic character and kind disposition are almost unique in Turkey.

Captain Best, in his tour, illustrates the terror which the Turks inspire among the Greek rayahs, by an anecdote quite in accordance with the state of feeling in the provinces, and the hardships which occasion it. A poor woman in the village of Kidros had with some reluctance admitted him into her cottage, and, on discovering that he was not a Turk, exclaimed, "We should not have been afraid of you had we known who you were: you are Christians and friends; but, fearing you might be Turks, we were cautious; for when they come to our village, they take forcible possession of our houses, turn us out, eat up all our food, kill our poultry, seize upon whatever we possess, and then pay us by beating our men and illtreating our females." Another English tourist, Mr. Jones, notices the fact of a woman dangerously ill of fever being thus turned out of her cottage in the night by his Turkish guide, in spite of his remonstrances in her favour,—and this took place at Petzali, near Jannina.

Such treatment as this must rouse the spirit of the most pacific nation; and in the breast of the Greek the desire of revenge burns like a volcano. Even the love of their native land, in them so peculiarly strong, as in most mountain races, is counterbalanced by their aversion to the Turkish domination; and the conterminous countries, such as Greece

and the Ionian Islands, are the resort of great numbers of refugees of all classes, whom I have often seen and conversed with. The poorer of these often beg their bread in exile, for they are now as much foreigners in Greece as they are in the Ionian Islands,—rather than return to their native villages, in European Turkey, where they probably possess lands and houses. As a plea for their mendicity, some of them give the wish to make up a sum which will suffice to bribe the Turkish head of their district to allow them to remove also their wives and children. Could such a state of matters exist were there no ground for the accusations against the Turks? The Greeks, of all people, would be the least disposed to expatriate themselves unless driven to it by unbearable oppres sion; as, independent of their keen feelings for their paternal home, they are sufficiently awake to their own interest to prevent their yielding to anything short of the hard necessity to abandon their property.

Now that a spirit of change pervades every country in Europe, that which has always existed in the Turkish provinces becomes more than ever alarming. Matters cannot go on in their present state; and if prompt measures be not taken to relieve the Greeks, a civil war will inevitably break out, bringing in its train serious embarrassments to the great powers of Europe.

A FORTNIGHT ON THE LOIRE.

BY DUDLEY COSTELLO.

I.

THE attraction which Paris has had for me is of old date.

It is no easy thing-though in this changeable world it occasionally happens to be disenchanted with one's first love. The current of time,

or the force of circumstances, may have swept away much of the illusion which, in early life, is mistaken for reality; but something always lingers to the last, some fragments remain, to show that what our soul was once bound up in, was after all worth loving.

-

So it is with a great city. The novelty may have long since disappeared, a multitude of untoward or painful events may have chanced,its aspect may have completely altered,-but in the past there is still a charm which can never be forgotten.

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It was certainly owing more to the past than the present that the pleasure was attributable which I felt, a few weeks since, in once more treading the streets of Paris, after an absence of about three years. The architectural embellishments remained the same, the treasures of art and science were as accessible as of yore; but all the life and spirit, all the gaiety and animation, all the picturesque movement which characterised the once lively Parisians, appeared to be entirely gone. The cafés on the Boulevards presented the same showy outside, but there was a sad falling off of habitués; the shop-windows were filled as usual, but the doors seemed hermetically sealed, no customers venturing to break the spell; and as I passed I fancied I saw the identical objets which had caught my attention when last I was in Paris. The only novelty was a larger étalage of "chemises d'hommes," a branch of trade which has probably increased since the prolétaires set themselves for shirt-wearers. this class-I mean the prolétaires-for shirt-wearing is, perhaps, not general even yet-the numbers were immense, but they were exceeded by the hosts of dirty, lounging, idiot-looking soldiers, who, having no occupation at present save that of mounting guard here and there, devote their leisure to a close examination of the contents of every boutique in the principal thoroughfares. Curiosity has always been a prominent feature of the Parisian, but in that curiosity there used to be an air and manner, a significant gesture or spoken word, which rendered it legitimate; the same tendency to stop and stare exists now, but it is in a dull, gaping, wondering way, as if the object seen were beyond the comprehension of the gazer. In a word, the purely idle man d'autrefois, who enjoyed himself upon nothing, and by his insouciance contributed not a little to the enjoyment of others, has entirely disappeared; and his place is badly supplied by a clumsy imitation, on the front of which is stamped the word "Republican."

This changed aspect is apparent everywhere, but more particularly in the Palais Royal and the Tuileries. If it were not for the Trois Frères and old Véry, the former would be thoroughly done up. Chévet, it is true, holds out in his well-known corner; but though his shop is filled with good things, gélinottes from the Ardennes, ortolans from the Pyre

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nees, pheasants from Chambord, trout from the lake of Geneva, and rare légumes from Holland-he stands amidst his wares with the mournful air of a Marius in the ruins of Carthage. He has been so long in the habit of purveying these things, that to do so still has become a necessity of his existence. He freely admits that nobody comes to buy anything now. "II n'y a plus de luxe, monsieur!" he says with a sigh, but, taking refuge in a Frenchman's unfailing expedient, he adds: "Que voulez-vous?" and, yielding to fate, he buries himself daily beneath a hecatomb of unsold dainties. Chévet's shop is the finest study in the world for a painter of still life, and Chévet himself is, unfortunately, in every sense of the word, its presiding genius. There are quite as many glittering ornaments, quite as many variegated dressing-gowns, quite as many money-changers' comptoirs in the Palais Royal now as formerly; but diamond necklaces, lory-bird costumes, and English bank-notes, are not to be had without their equivalents, and the aspiring youths in képis and brick-red trousers, who constitute the bulk of the loungers there, are not yet in a condition to offer them; the time has not yet come for them to "spend half-a-crown out of sixpence a-day."

On the other side of the Rue St. Honoré,-that is to say, in the Place du Carrousel,-the change is even greater. Beneath the lateral arches of the Arc de Triomphe there used to stand, within my recollection, the splendidly equipped and martial-looking soldiers of the Grénadiers à Cheval; this, however, was as far back as the time of the elder Bourbons; these were replaced by the troops of the citizen king, showing a change indeed, but still giving to the old palace an aspect of guarded royalty; now the Triumphal Arch is left to take care of itself, -the guichet is closed, and what soldiers there are to watch over the Tuileries are stationed at the entrances on either side of the square, to prevent, in these times of republican liberty, the free passage across, which was unimpeded in the days of an absolute monarchy. So literally do the new custodians interpret their consigne, that they not only refuse admission in the least courteous manner, but warn the stranger to quit the spot without a moment's delay, the privilege of gazing on these admirable troops from the pavement of the Rue de Rivoli being an inter dicted pleasure. When these gallant fellows, however, are off duty there is no such restriction, and in the square of the Carrousel he may, if he pleases, gaze his fill at the apartments on the rez de chaussée, where they are quartered, and where he may see at an open window, as I did, a black man in his shirt-sleeves giving lessons in fencing, to the great delight of a gaping crowd outside. How the rest of the palace is tenanted I cannot pretend to say. Since the last revolution it has served the purposes of an hospital, a barrack, and an exhibition,—and before it is restored to its original destination, it may very probably be converted into a prison or a maison de santé. The gardens of the Tuileries are nurserygardens to as great an extent as ever; the same old women lie perdues in them, behind the trees, ready to pounce down with unerring aim on the occupants of chairs; and seedy-looking individuals, who do not even disdain to beg, are as numerous there as elsewhere.

Before the revolution of 1830, the Swiss sentinels suffered none to enter the gardens who wore a casquette or blouse, or carried a bundle; and when the three glorious days were past, instead of the consigne being "On n'entre pas en casquette," it was made a joke to say, "On