'When the Turkish fleet was blockading Missolonghi, I was one day ordered by Lord Byron to accompany him to the mouth of the harbour to inspect the fortifications, in order to make a report of the state they were in. He and I were in his own punt, a little boat which he had, rowed by a boy; and in a large boat, accompanying us, were Prince Mavrocordato and his attendants. As I was viewing, on one hand, the Turkish fleet attentively, and reflecting on its powers, and our means of defence; and looking, on the other, at Prince Mavrocordato and his attendants, perfectly unconcerned, smoking their pipes and gossiping, as if Greece were liberated and at peace, and Missolonghi in a state of perfect security, I could not help giving vent to a feeling of contempt and indignation. '"What is the matter?" said Lord Byron, appearing to be very serious; "what makes you so angry, Parry?" '"I am not angry, my lord," I replied, "but somewhat indignant. The Turks, if they were not the most stupid wretches breathing, might take the fort of Vasaladi, by means of two pinnaces, any night they pleased; they have only to approach it with muffled oars, they would not be heard, I will answer for their not being seen, and they may storm it in a few minutes. With eight gunboats properly armed with 24-pounders, they might batter both Missolonghi and Anatolica to the ground. And there sits the old gentlewoman, Prince Mavrocordato and his troop, to whom I applied an epithet I will not here repeat, as if they were all perfectly safe. They know that their means of defence are inadequate, and they have no means of improving them. If I were in their place, I should be in a fever at the thought of my own incapacity and ignorance, and I should burn with impatience to attempt the destruction of those stupid Turkish rascals. The Greeks and the Turks are opponents, worthy by their imbecility of each other." 'I had scarcely explained myself fully, when Lord Byron ordered our boat to be placed alongside the other, and actually related our whole conversation to the Prince. In doing it, however, he took upon himself the task of pacifying both the Prince and me, and though I was at first very angry, and the Prince, I believe, very much annoyed, he succeeded. It was, in fact, only Lord Byron's manner of reproving us both. It taught me to be prudent and discreet. To the Prince and the Greeks it probably conveyed a lesson, which Lord Byron could have found no better means of giving them.'