To the honour of our common nature it may be stated that even this direful visitation tends at times to bring out some of the noblest qualities of which frail humanity is susceptible. If man may be pardoned a feeling of absorbing selfishness, it is surely in the hour when he has before him the prospect of one of the most frightful of all deaths; but, even in the short month which has elapsed since the disease deepened, examples have not been wanting of that utter absence of selfishness—that self-sacrifice for the security of others—which gives to the fate of the victim almost the character of martyrdom. Only a day or two since, a poor Greek inhabitant of Therapia was suddenly attacked with sickness, and, thinking that he recognised the symptoms of the malady, he immediately proceeded to his cottage; and, stopping ere he touched the threshold, called to his wife, who, astonished on seeing him at so unwonted an hour, and struck by the change in his appearance, was about to approach him, when he desired her to stand back; and then, calmly telling her that he was unwell, though he knew not from what cause, and that he was unwilling during a time of Plague to run the risk of infecting his family, or of compromising his house, he desired her to throw him his furred pelisse. “If it be a mere passing sickness,” he added, as he prepared to depart, “it will only cost me a night in the open air—If it be the Plague, you will at least save our few articles of clothing, and the few comforts of the cottage—Recommend me to the Virgin and St. Roch.” And thus he left his home; and wandered, weak and heart-sick, to the mountains. He felt that the brand was on him; and he went to die alone, he knew not how—whether as a wild and frantic maniac, gathering strength from the fever which would turn his blood to fire, and howling out his anguish to the winds of midnight, without one kind voice to comfort, or one fond hand to guide him, until at length he dropped down to die upon the damp earth—or, as a shivering and palsied wretch, fainting from thirst, and quivering with sickness, to gaze hour after hour from his bed of withered leaves, or parched-up turf, upon the blue bright sky, and the myriad stars, until they went out one by one as his sight failed, and his pulse ebbed—— On the morrow the wife hastened to the mountains with food, in search of her husband. She had not taught herself to believe that the Plague had touched him, and she feared that he might suffer from hunger. She led one of her children by the hand—his favourite child—and they were long before they found him—for although the young clear voice of the boy shouting out his name was borne far away upon the elastic air of the mountain, there was no answer to the call—alas! there could be none—the father lay cold and stiff in a gully of the rock,-the Plague-smitten had ceased to suffer!