BY THE RIVER SIDE.

BY A. R. H.

A LITTLE nook with emerald mosses lined,
Sheltered by trees whose graceful branches twined
In close affection, whilst the hush profound
Is stirred, not broken, by a rippling sound;
Softly the music falls upon our ear,

So soft, so low, and yet so silvery clear,
Upon the summer breeze it floats along.
Know ye the notes? It is the river song,

The same sweet song men heard in bygone years,
Whose music soothed the heart worn out with cares;
Æolian harp must yield to it the palm,

No mortal harp could give such sense of calm.
Here might the restless mind for ages dwell,
Chained by the magic of the river's spell;
Here might fond lovers, wand'ring hand in hand,
Dream that their steps had reached enchanted land ;
In this retired grove fair blossoms grow,
And from the river gentle zephyrs blow;
Here dragon-flies in gorgeous beauty glance,
And butterflies from flower to flower dance;
Here grief forgets to mourn, so great the power
Of nature's balm in mortal's suffering hour.

And hither through the scented air came one
Whose dream of life seemed scarcely yet begun;
With step like bounding fawn, so glad and free,
With sunny hair, and eyes that danced with glee;
With voice that echoed back the thrush's song,
As 'neath the arching trees she moved along.
A woodland nymph, in robe of silv'ry gray,
Trilling with happy heart a gladsome lay;
Warbling, sweet maid, a lark's glad song of love,
Sweeter than nightingale or Cushat dove.

TWO DAYS AT MALTA.

BY JAMES F. COBBE, F.R.G.S.

For those who do not perpetually suffer from sea sickness, there can hardly be a more beautiful, invigorating, and thoroughly enjoyable trip than the voyage from England to Malta, in one of the large steamers of the many lines constantly sailing from English ports to India and the East, and calling on their way at Gibraltar and Malta. After the inconveniences of the Bay of Biscay are passed we may generally reckon in spring or summer upon fair weather. The rocky heights of Cape Finisterre then come into view and the coast of Spain and Portugal is kept constantly in sight, affording a constant succession of varied and beautiful views, especially in the neighbourhood of Cintra and Lisbon. When the Straits of Gibraltar are approached, the scenery becomes grand in the extreme, the mountainous coast of Northern Africa rises darkly from the blue waters; that of Europe, greener and more thickly wooded, is studded with towns and little villages nestling among the trees, then Tarifa comes into sight, the large rock of Ceva towers in the distance, and when our steamer finally enters the straits the vast mass of fortified rock, the celebrated Gibraltar, rises in all its magnificence before us.

Opportunity is generally afforded to passengers to visit this fortress, where England guards the entrance of the Mediterranean, the steamers generally remaining here some hours; but I was unfortunate, as the steamer in which I was sailing-a fine P. and O. one-the Mirzapore-arrived in the dusk of the evening, and left again at 9 p.m., so I saw but little of Gibraltar.

For some time after passing through the straits, the Spanish coast remains in sight, the snowy range of the Sierra Nevada forming a conspicuous and magnificent object. As soon as Spain is lost to view, Africa appears, rocky promontories and headlands, crowned by lighthouses, and barren islands rising out

of the deep blue waters, follow in succession. A larger island, Pantellaria, belonging to Italy, is the last land passed before reaching Malta, which we discerned early in the evening of the eighth day after leaving Southampton.

The group consists of three islands, Gozo, Comino, and Malta. Gozo is first approached; it has the advantage over Malta in the fertility of its soil, and provides its larger and more celebrated neighbour with vegetables and fruit. Comino is a very small island lying between the two, and separated from them by very narrow straits. Malta rises from the sea white and bare; scarcely a tree is to be seen, but every height seems to be crowned by the dome of a church, or the walls of a fortress, while villages of glaringly white houses are everywhere planted on the sides of the hills, or close along the shore.

As our steamer turns to enter the harbour we are struck with the amazing strength of the place; military art and nature combined, seem to have made it impregnable. The narrow entrance to the fort is commanded on both sides by huge forts, the largest of which is St. Elmo to our left, after which churches, houses, and palatial public buildings line the water's edge, all built of the light-coloured stone of which the island is composed; on the opposite side is the suburb of Sliema, with attractive-looking modern houses, terraces, gardens, barracks, and more forts and castles in the distance. This harbour, large and wide as it is, is the smaller and less busy of the two; it is the quarantine harbour which all vessels have to enter on their arrival in the island. No sooner is our steamer at anchor than we are immediately boarded by a motley throng of speculative vendors of various articles. Boys and girls with magnificent bouquets of roses and other flowers, women with baskets full of the lace for which Malta is celebrated, men with filigree work of gold and silver, as well as cheap jewellery, boys with most tempting oranges, Jews who invite you to their establishments in the town to lay in a stock of tobacco and cigars of unrivalled quality, and touters for the various hotels, to say nothing of the boatmen, all eager to convey you ashore, while boys in boats are yelling out in shrill tones, inviting you to throw coins into the water, that they may exhibit their wonderful skill in diving and picking them up. A policeman, in English uniform, has come on board to maintain order among the crowd, and arranges also what is to be paid to the boatman for landing.

As we are anchored but a short distance from the shore, a

five minutes' row brings us to the landing-place, a well-built quay with broad flights of steps. Hence a steep ascent up a long staircase leads into a narrow street of lofty houses, one of the main thoroughfares evidently, of Valetta, from the number of people who thronged it. One is first struck by the dress of the women; an Englishman, who accompanied me into the town, asked "Are those nuns?" At first I was inclined to believe they were, but when I perceived that all females were similarly attired, I concluded that such was the national costume. It is generally of sombre hue, black or brown, the most striking feature being a large veil or hood, which covers completely over the head and face, forming an excellent protection against the sun. This costume was probably of Oriental origin, as it is not far removed from that adopted by the Mohammedan women.

The houses in Valetta are all handsome, and solidly built of stone; the number of balconies, verandahs, and coloured blinds give the town a thoroughly Spanish look. Fruit shops, with piles of oranges and lemons, and beautiful bouquets of flowers, principally roses, abound. One is struck, too, by the cleanliness of the streets, and the absence of those smells so offensively obtrusive in most foreign cities. The Strada Reale, into which we now turned, is the Regent Street of Valetta, wider and more level than the others, full of large, attractive shops, with exquisite lace, and elegant filigree jewellery, and containing some of the finest public buildings of the city. Here at the Dunsford's Hotel, in a square facing the Governor's Palace, I took up my abode, as central a spot as could be found in Malta. It is a quaintly-built house and very Spanish in arrangement, all the bedrooms opening out into balconies, which surround a narrow courtyard, and nearly all of them destitute of windows, air and light coming in through the doors, by no means a comfortable plan. Opposite the hotel is a small but very prettily laid out public garden, with fountains, flower beds, pepper trees, palms, &c., and a café where English newspapers are taken in, and which affords a pleasant and shady refuge at all times of the day; round the garden are arcades with shops. Adjoining this stands the Governor's Palace, occupying the side of a large square, in which also is a guard-house and barracks. It is an extensive building, containing several courtyards, in one of which is a beautiful garden, with magnificent creepers in full bloom covering the walls.

The armoury contained in the Palace is well worth visiting. I was first shewn into a new and magnificent ball-room, then passing along a corridor, lined on one side with paintings chiefly portraits of the grand-masters, and scenes in the stirring history of the island, and on the other by figures in armour, into the armoury itself, contained in a vast and admirably proportioned hall. It is a museum and armoury combined, and is arranged with considerable taste. One can trace the history of the island in the various kinds of armour and weapons which line the walls. Many of these came from Rhodes, others were captured from the Turks; among the latter are some curious rifles on stands of amazing length, said to carry two miles, and some large and quaint old cannon brought from Rhodes. There is also some singular Japanese armour, and many relics of the French occupation at the close of the last century. The figure in full armour of a Spanish giant, seven feet high, stands at the end of the room; his helmet is so heavy that one can hardly lift it. Among the most interesting objects here are the original document by which Charles V. gave Malta to the knights instead of Rhodes, with the Emperor's own signature, and the Pope's bull of the same date confirming the transfer. The last thing I was shown was the old carriage of the grand-masters, in which they were wont to drive through the town-a heavy, lumbering, faded equipage.

Nearly all the streets in Valetta are steep inclines, many of them consist of a series of steps, some are very narrow, and remind one of those of Venice; the shops are small, and as there are no fixed prices, a great deal of bargaining has to go on before a purchase is completed. Numbers of native sailors and boatmen, mostly destitute of shoes and stockings, throng the streets; the latter are vexatiously persevering in following a stranger if they have any idea he wants a boat. The police, dressed in the same blue uniform as our own, are all Maltese, but they understand English, and are civil and obliging; soldiers are to be met at every turn; beggars are most persistent and annoying, one cannot stop in the street to speak to a friend or to look into a shop window, without being surrounded by a group of men, women, and children, mostly in rags. I am surprised that the English Government does not take some means to put an end to this nuisance. Though Italian in appearance and manners, the Maltese have a language of their own, in which is a large infusion of Arabic and which