There is an ancient church at Otranto, containing some remains of classic antiquity, said to be derived from a temple of Minerva; but I can point out nothing as particularly beautiful, except a fine marigold window, which is probably of a later date than the body of the building. The bases and capitals of the columns are at best of the lower empire. Unfortunately for the lovers of romance, the castle is a commonplace fortification of the sixteenth century, without any thing venerable or picturesque about it. We were conducted by our consul to an olive-ground, of which there are authentic records of the planting, at the beginning of the sixteenth century. The trees are therefore about three hundred years old; they still bear, but are much decayed; yet I should think we have seen older. At least we have seen much larger. The ladies in the south of Italy have rather shrill voices, and in the lower class of females, when they are earnest about any thing, (and they are earnest about every trifle) this becomes quite a scold. I have already mentioned those at Bari, where the maid-servant seemed always to speak in a whirlwind; and the woman who took care of the house where we lodged at Otranto, and who cooked and did every thing for us, was so strong in her expressions of gratitude, that Sharp insisted she was scolding. The consul had received a letter directed to me from Sir H. Lushington, but not knowing what to make of the address, he had opened it, and contrived to obtain the sense of its contents. It was fortunate for us that he did so, as an order from Corfu is necessary, in order to be permitted to make use of the courier’s boat, and he had forwarded the letter, and procured for us the permission. After waiting four days for a southerly wind to bring over the boat, and two more for a northerly one, we left Otranto and Italy on the 29th of November. Our passage was performed in about thirty hours. The coast of Albania, as we approached it, appeared to be composed of high and craggy mountains, for the most part of a bare and desolate appearance. Corfu at first also presents a ridge of craggy mountains, but less high and more varied, and whose lower parts are covered with olives. As we get nearer we distinguish lower ranges of hills between these mountains and the shore. The town of Corfu stands on the eastern side of the island towards Albania, and seems to be placed on the shore of a noble lake. The situation is delightful, and the views towards the island the most beautiful you can imagine: a very irregular chain of mountains appears to run down its middle; nearer, are hills covered with wood and olives, and the shores are varied with a succession of bays and promontories, sprinkled with villages, and enriched with gardens and vineyards. Across the water, the scenery is more grand, but monotonous, savage, and desolate. The mountains form a more continued line, and Tomarit, covered with deep snow, appears above the general range, but at