“This is certainly a curious island, it was originally a barren rock, but the labour of man has done wonders. Soil has been transported from different places, on which many gardens have been formed. The town is a strong fortress, celebrated in history for the noble stand which it made against the whole power of the infidels. You can have no idea of the houses from any thing you see in Edinburgh. The roofs are all flat, and well fitted for a warm climate. The entrance is capacious and gloomy, not unlike that of ancient baronial castles. The rooms are lofty, the floors of which are paved with stone; and the walls are generally decorated with large paintings. There is one very fine church, St. John’s, the floors of which are all of the finest marble, with some fine specimens of mosaic work, and the walls are adorned with beautiful paintings and well executed sculpture. There are, however, many marks of decay on the exterior of the building, which, by the bye, does not present that grand appearance that one would expect.” The two letters which follow in the series are both dated “Tripoli, October 24, 1821,” and relate principally to what occurred on the passage from England to Africa. “We are here at last, and a pretty place it is; so built, however, that three can scarcely walk a-breast in the streets: every few yards a house is in ruins, for there exists among the Moors a strange dislike to repair any thing, particularly houses. Whether that arises from indolence or superstitious notions, I cannot tell, but the fact is evident to the most superficial observer. Our passage to Malta was exceedingly agreeable—long certainly, but pleasant company prevented _tedium_. I visited the galleries at Gibraltar, and was highly pleased with the grandeur of the design. Your favourite fort, Malta, excited very little interest in my mind, not that the place is deficient in interest, but we were fretful from experiencing great harassment from individuals who ought to have forwarded our views, so that a disinclination to enjoy any thing was induced. On our arrival here, we found matters far beyond our expectation; far to the south of Bornou is open to us, and almost entirely subject to the pasha of Tripoli. All our route is clear and free from danger. The pasha’s word is a law not to be disobeyed, and he has pledged himself to protect us fifty-seven days’ journey beyond Bornou. On our landing, that favourable intelligence made us leap for joy. The Mahometans here are a most liberal sort of men, and tolerate people of every religious persuasion—a circumstance almost unknown in any other Mahometan country. The police is admirable, so that a stranger may traverse every part of the city without the least apprehension. As to the moral condition of the people, I can say but little, as I have had very imperfect opportunities of observing them.