Whoever has sailed along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea will remember the many objects of interest which present themselves on every side. There are seen convents which have stood for ages, braving change and time, from whose turrets the vesper bell has sounded forth over the waters, calling the ghostly father and the young recluse from the cell and the cloister to mingle in the devotions imposed by the Holy Mother Church; castles frowning from bare and beaten rocks, reminding one of other days, when feudal strife and knightly warfare demanded such monuments of barbarism to prove that "might makes right;" beautiful gondolas, with richly-dressed Orientals, manned with slaves, and propelled by the broad, flat paddle, reminding one of the songs which cast their witchery around the knights of yore, and from the blue bosom of the sea gave back the melodious echo; the highlands, clad in beauty and arrayed in all the verdure of perpetual summer; villas standing amid groves of trees in full blossom, and cultivated slopes which extend to the very billows of the sea; ruined temples, monasteries, convents, cathedrals, standing like some relics of the past, fit emblems of the decaying faith once taught within them. About the 1st of December, the Stamboul, with its precious freight, arrived at Smyrna; and when the new year with all its hallowed emotions came, they were comfortably located in their new home, surrounded with every circumstance to make them happy. Their home stood near the sea shore, and from its verandas they could look far out upon the waters and behold the passing vessels as on the busy voyage they sped to and fro. In the garden sweet roses bloomed, and the orange and lemon gave delicious fragrance and more delicious fruit.