1832.] [ G71 J 



THE PORIOTE DOCTOR. 



I HAD been but a few days in Napoli di Romania, the capital of Greece, 

 when I was ordered to embark for Damala, a small village opposite the 

 island of Poros, to join the regular troops under Colonel Fabrier, to which 

 corps I was attached. My arrangements for travel being very speedily 

 completed, I paid mine host of the Locanda, and with all my worldly pos- 

 sessions contained in the knapsack at my back, I went down to the quay 

 in search of a caique, gladly bidding adieu to the dirty narrow streets, 

 pestilential atmosphere, and motley population, of the first of Greek cities. 

 I luckily met with a lavouken, who, plying for passengers as he pro- 

 nounced it " dia ton fioro," and wanting only one of his complement, 

 readily agreed to take me for two piastres, (about eight pence.) I stepped 

 on board his caique, an odd crank-looking kind of craft, with a mast raking 

 forward at an angle of 45 Q . I found myself in company with six or seven 

 individuals of different nations, calling themselves Philellenes, but being in 

 reality adventurers like myself, and having as much affection for the Greek 

 cause as I have for the reigning prince of Timbuctoo. 



There was an old drunken Gascon whom I shall call Garelle j he lay 

 upon the shingle which served to ballast the boat, as I thought in a state 

 of stupid intoxication. I remarked to one who sat next me, " quil etait 

 sou comme nn cochon," to which Garelle, who, I suppose, had detected my 

 island accent, replied, " Mille pardons, Monsieur, je suis sou comme un 

 Anglois" 



When the laugh occasioned by this repartee had subsided, I was addressed 

 by a strange looking being, whose operations I had been watching with 

 considerable interest for some time. He had been sitting cross-legged 

 on the half-deck making his toilet his age was about sixty ; his head, as 

 carefully divested of hair as though it had belonged to the most rigid of 

 the disciples of Mahomet,' was covered with a folded napkin, which he 

 occasionally dipped in the water ; he had been carefully plucking from his 

 moustachios all straggling irregular-growing hairs, till he succeeded .in 

 making the upper edge as sharp and defined as though it had been cut 

 upon copper by the burin of an engraver. The finishing touch was then 

 given to them by means of a ball of dark wax, with which they were black- 

 ened, and made to turn up at the corners, imparting to them an aspect 

 " piuferoce," as the armourer of Constantinople said to Byron, when endea- 

 vouring to sell him a flame- fashioned Damascus. The eyebrows having 

 been carefully coloured to match, the napkin was superseded by a luxuriant 

 juvenile jet wig, shining as brightly as olive oil could make it. Although 

 I could not but feel a contempt for the frivolity of his occupations, there 

 was nevertheless an air of " bonhommie" about him which delighted me 

 exceedingly. He extended to me the right hand of fellowship, saying, 

 " Sare, how do you do j Sare, je suis charme to make de you connaissance." 

 I expressed my satisfaction at meeting one who spoke my language a 

 white fib which won the old man's heart, and we became excellent friends. 

 Papa Clement for Clement was his name, the Papa being invariably 

 affixed by his comrades then told me that he had been for some years a 

 prisoner of war at Stapleton, near Bristol, and dwelt with particular unction 

 on the manifold kindnesses he had received at the hands of von Mr. Alder- 



