We glide by Cape Matapan on the Greek coast. We passed Cabrera and Sapienza. We leave the lighthouse on Strophades to the left, and reach Zante, which is a lovely island, with a large picturesque town, and where mareschino is made. We run between Cephalonia and Ithaca (of Ulysses); then we change the Greek coast for Acarnania, and pass Santa Maura, or Leucadia, with "Sappho's Leap." We changed then to the Albanian coast, gloriously green to the water's edge, with, cliff and cave, with the Cimariote hills, and its wild people and their lawless legends behind them. We passed two islands, Anti Paxo and Paxo, to Corfú. After we leave Corfú, we coast along Albania, passing Capo Linguetta and Isole Sasseno; then we changed to the Dalmatian coast, to Bocca di Cattaro and Ragusa, afterwards the islands of Lagosta and Cazza; then Lissa, where two great battles were fought, one 13th of March, 1811, and the other 20th of July, 1866. Then we passed the islands of Spalmadore, Lesina, Incoronati, and Grossa; then Punta Biancha, and the island of Sansego. Here we changed to Istria, and are upon our own ground, beginning with Punta di Promontore and Pola, our great Austrian naval station, with its Coliseum and interesting ruins. Then Rovigno and Parenzo, harbour towns on the coast. At Punto Salvore we enter our own "Gulf of Trieste," passing Pirano, which we can see from our own windows, and finally Trieste. The coming into Trieste is very sweet from the sea. The beautiful little City, nestled in its corner in the mountains at the very top of the Adriatic, seemed to us the greenest and most beautiful spot we had ever beheld, after hot India and barren Egypt and Arabia. The hills plumaged to the sea, dotted with white villages and villas; Miramar standing well out to sea in the warm haze; the splendid Carniola Mountains on the opposite side, still slightly tipped with snow, were most refreshing to our eyes, and we settled down in our little home with a feeling of rest, and enjoyed our ever-warm reception from our Trieste friends after our sea voyage. [1] I put this story in the _New Review_ last November. Hardly had I done so when it was claimed by an American for Professor Henry, of the Smithsonian Institute at Washington. It could hardly have happened to two men, and Richard was much too witty to need to copy. It happened at eleven o'clock on the 22nd of April, 1876. I was present, saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears, and thinking it too good to be forgotten wrote it down there and then. The Archbishop and I mentioned it in letters a few months ago.--I. B. [2] Richard always took Goanese boys on his wildest travels, and they were always true to him. [3] "Goa and the Blue Mountains," which will later be in the "Uniform Library."--I. B. CHAPTER IV. A QUIET TIME AT TRIESTE.