The temperature drops rapidly when the fierce wind known as the grégalé prevails, blowing from the northeast across the Ionian Sea directly into the Grand Harbor of Valletta. When this wind occurs, the blue of the sky turns to a dull leaden hue; clouds troop up from the east in close phalanxes; the birds fly low, uttering ominous cries; and all nature seems to be in the throes of distress. An evil wind,--sometimes it is of such force as to drive the largest vessels from their moorings, while it makes sad havoc among the lesser craft. On such occasions, everything afloat which can be so handled is hauled up on the shore, which is the usual mode of securing small vessels all along the shores of the Mediterranean to-day, just as it has been for centuries. The natives who navigate these waters have quite a reputation as efficient mariners; but they do not compare favorably with either American or European sailors in this respect. They are not seamen of the long voyage, who have learned to contend successfully with the ocean when in its wildest moods. Their instinct is to run at once for a safe harbor when a storm threatens. So with the mariners of the Red Sea, between Aden and Suez, who will not venture out of port if the hot winds of that region blow too hard to permit a candle to burn on the forecastle of their vessels. Asiatics, as a rule, are poor seamen. A pampero at Montevideo or a norther at Vera Cruz is not much more disagreeable and destructive than is the grégalé at Malta (the "Euroclydon" of the Scriptures). Nor is one other dreaded visitor much less objectionable; that is, a strong wind rising on the Egyptian coast, which, sweeping hitherward, wraps an unwelcome mantle of cold gray mist about the Maltese group.