PATRASS.

Drawn by G. Cattermole, from a Sketch by W. Page.

"A BRIG of war in which they sailed having been ordered to convoy a fleet of small merchantmen to Patrass and Prevesa, they remained for two or three days at anchor off the former place."-Life of Byron, vol. i. 12mo, p. 289.

Lord Byron, in a letter to Mr. H. Drury, says: "I first landed in Albania, the ancient Epirus, whence we penetrated as far as Mount Tomerit." But it appears from the account of his companion, Mr. Hobhouse, that it was at Patrass the noble poet first set his foot on that land in which he drew his last breath. He says, in his journey through Albania, &c.—" At seven o'clock the next morning we were in sight of the opening of the Gulf of Lepanto, and not far from the small islands called Curzolari, near which, and not in the gulf itself, the battle of Lepanto was fought. The scenery which at this moment presented itself to us was peculiarly agreeable to our eyes, which had been so long fatigued with the white waste of Malta. To the south, not far

from us, were lowlands running out into the sea, covered with currant-trees of the most lively green; before us were hills crowned to their summits with wood, and on every other side, except at the opening by which we had come into this great bay, were rugged mountains of every shape. We were shewn the situation of Patrass, but did not advance sufficiently before dark to see the town itself that evening. The following night, the whole of the next day, and the night after, I employed myself in cruising about the mouth of the bay in a boat; but on the 26th, at seven in the morning, was again on board of the brig at anchor off Patrass. Nothing could be more inviting than the appearance of this place. I had approached it just as the dawn was breaking over the mountains to the back of the town, which is itself on the foot of a hill clothed with gardens, groves of orange and lemon-trees, and currant-grounds that, when seen at a distance, remind me of the bright green of an English meadow. The minarets of the Turkish moscks, always a beautiful object, glittering in the first rays of the sun, and the cultivated appearance of the whole neighbourhood of the town, formed an agreeable contrast with the barren rocks on the other side of the gulf.

"Though we were to proceed with a part of our convoy immediately to Prevesa, we were anxious, as you may suppose, to put foot in the Morea. Accord