my looks He compreAlas! what

the siege of Acre. His wounds were far from healed: they gave him excruciating pain, and he moaned heavily. The mortal agony which he endured was legible in his countenance. I would fain have cheered him he knew no more of my language than I did of his; alone expressed the sympathy that I felt. hended them, and appeared thankful. services can a stranger render to a stranger in a fishing smack tossed by the waves, and in which the seafaring man himself sometimes finds it difficult to keep on his legs!

However, in spite of the rough weather, we made nearly seventeen French leagues in six hours, and at day-break found ourselves off Tripoli. We landed in the harbour, at the village called La Marina, about half a league distant from the town.

From the port I proceeded to Tripoli, and alighted at the convent of the Franciscans of the Holy Land. The only persons there were Father Fortunatus, president of the establishment, and another monk. Both made me most welcome. Several European officers in the service of the viceroy lodged or dined that day at the convent. What was my surprise to meet again with M. Lafond, a Frenchman, employed as surgeon-major in the Egyptian army, whom I had known at Jaffa. He appeared not less pleased than myself at this unexpected meeting, talked to me about his journey, inquired concerning my intended route, and proposed to accompany me. cepted this obliging offer the more cheerfully, because he was perfect master of Arabic, and I could not have a more amiable or more capable interpreter.

I ac

There is nothing remarkable about the convent and the church, but the court before the entrance is very handsome; it is paved with marble, and adorned with a large basin, from the centre of which rises a magnificent fountain. The garden is striking, from the number and the beauty of its fruit-trees, and also on account of its high trellises, so thickly covered with foliage as to be impervious to the rays of the sun in their shade the community in general dines.

A few moments before we sat down to table, Father Fortunatus, who was walking there with me, took me aside, and said: "I must apprize you, Father, that you will dine to-day with a young Italian, the commandant of the citadel, and captain in the regiment of the guards, who has turned Mahometan, and taken the name of Mustapha."

"What!" I exclaimed, hurried away by a transport of indignation, which I was not able to repress; "what! would you make me dine with an apostate! Surely, you cannot mean that! no, no; never, never!"

"You are too nice: he dines here every day, and nobody objects to it."

"Indeed, I must confess, it is not what I think quite right."

"I am not the person who would strive to extenuate the heinous offence which he has committed. He was only seventeen at the time; but he repents it: he means to leave this country as soon as he can obtain payment of a sum which the government owes him, and which he cannot do without, and is determined to seize the first opportunity to reconcile himself with the Church. With

the exception of this fault, he is an excellent man, and I assure you that, in his present disposition, he is better than a great many Christians."

"What say you? with the exception of this fault? Is not apostacy the most heinous of crimes?"

“I declare to you," continued the Father, " that this Mustapha protects all the Christians; that he not only bestows on them considerable alms, but that, in general, he renders us the greatest services; and it seems to me but reasonable to make some allowance for this conduet, and for his repentance."

"All this, Father, is well, very well; but all this cannot excuse his apostacy. I will not see him, still less dine in his company."

"I entreat you!"

"It is useless; I should think that I was sinning." "I will take the sin upon myself."

We were still talking, when a party of officers came towards us. "There he is!" said the Father, "there he is! the foremost is he." A shudder seized me. I raised my eyes, and beheld a young man of about twenty-six, with an interesting countenance, and pale and melancholy look. He came up to me; he would have kissed my hand, but I drew it back with horror: he perceived it, and kept silence. I remarked myself that the settled sadness expressed by all his features had become still deeper; pity entered my heart, and triumphed over the repugnance which I felt to sit down to table with him.

He ate little. During dinner, an officer having called him Mustapha, the name by which he is known: "My: name," said he, with a deep sigh, looking at me, "is Jean

François." I cannot describe to you the impression made upon me by those few words, uttered with courageous penitence. The horror which he had excited in me gave place to the tenderest compassion. "Poor Jean François!" said I, inwardly; and my soul lifted itself towards the God of mercy, imploring him not to forsake this unfortunate man. After dinner, when about to take leave of us, he came to me, and offered me his hand, without speaking a word: his looks seemed to say:"Have pity on me!"-and I gave him mine, at the same time pointing to heaven.

He came to see me in the evening. Our conversation lasted till very late. I hope, from the infinite bounty of our merciful Saviour, that he will lose no time in returning to the bosom of the Church, and doing penance proportionate to the enormity of the offence which he has had the misfortune to commit.

Next morning, I began to explore Tripoli. It is a very ancient town, on which, from the very first, its harbour conferred great importance. Mention is made of it in the second book of the Maccabees (xiv. 1.). The Turks call it Tarabolas. The name of Tripoli, which the Greeks gave it, and which we have retained, signifies three towns, because it is, in fact, composed of three towns not far distant from each other, the principal of which belonged to the Syrians. It is seated at the foot of Mount Lebanon, and watered by the Nahar Kadischa, a river, which, being directed into several canals, at once supplies the wants of the town, and serves for irrigating the fields and gardens. The population, computed by some at ten thousand souls, is almost all Mahometan.

The number of the catholics is very small: there are, nevertheless, three convents; that of the Franciscans, at which I lodged; one of Capuchins; and one of Barefooted Carmelites. Each of these houses is usually inhabited by only two or three monks, and sometimes contains but a single individual.

The environs are delightful, but unhealthy as a place of abode. Epidemic fevers prevail there, as in Cyprus, in the months of July, August, and September, and sometimes even later.

At the beginning of the twelfth century, this district, having been conquered by Baldwin, brother of Godfrey, was erected into the county of Tripoli, and subsisted under that name till the downfall of the Crusaders.

In one of my excursions, I made the acquaintance of M. Lombard, of Marseilles, who has been settled at Tripoli for some years. He, as well as his family, loaded me with civilities. It is one of the most hospitable houses that it has been my lot to meet with. The stranger, to what nation soever he belongs, is treated there with such attention and kindness as frequently make him forget the fatigues and hardships which he encounters in visiting these parts.

I went with M. Lombard's children to the beach, to see an establishment for the sponge fishery. From one hundred and fifty to two hundred Greek divers were engaged in this occupation, under the direction of the proprietor, who cannot carry on this business for his own profit without paying a yearly duty to the government. He is a Greek, a very amiable man, married to a French He made me a present of a very fine sponge,

woman.