Lower World from this part of Thesprotia. The character of the Homeric Inferno is very simple. Two rivers, a rock, some tall poplars and barren willows, were all its scenery. Very different indeed from subsequent repre

sentations of the same regions. This rocky glen, through which the Acheron tumbles, over steep and dark cliffs, into the Paramythian plain, what a contrast does it present to those later, and especially Roman, representations of the subterranean world! in which a splendid vestibule leads through massive walls and a peristyle of adamant into lengthening corridors, and thence into groves of myrtle and fragrant laurels,-into the Inferno, in short, of an age and nation which introduced a Baian luxury even into its dreariest abodes, and dressed up the gloomy mansion of Pluto with the pomp of a palace of the Cæsars. Very different, too, the principles which suggested these later descriptions, from the melancholy language in which the Achilles of Homer declares upon this spot that he had rather cultivate these swampy fields as a day-labourer, than enjoy the honours of the royal state among the dead and

very different the influence of this diversity of belief on the character of the respective nations by which it was entertained!

Three or four cottages, a ruined church, and a paltry fortress, are all the artificial adjuncts of this spot. They stand on the verge of the plain, on the right bank of the Acheron. The place is called AIA GLYKY. Above them, to the north-east, rise the lofty mountains of Suli, one crowning the other, and some bearing on their summits those proud castles which nothing but famine and avarice could storm. The Acheron falls from these hills through a deep and rocky gorge: leaving these cottages to the right, it expands into a turbid and eddying stream, and then winds quietly through a flat, marshy country, (in which it forms the Acherusian Lake, and unites itself with the Cocytus), into the Ionian Sea.

The port of GLYKY, into which the Acheron discharges itself, seems to have communicated its name to the place where we now are. Its adoption may also have been suggested by a desire to merge all the former sadness of the spot in such an agreeable euphemism. The feeling which in other cases appeased the most awful Deities, and beguiled the most painful diseases, by the charm of a Name, might also hope to sweeten the river of woe: the name, too, it is evident, was conferred at a time when Christianity gave an additional reason for the choice, as well as another meaning to it when made.

The ruined church at Aia Glyky stands on the site of an ancient temple. The fragments of eight or nine granite columns of the former structure still remain. We are inclined to believe that this was the oracular shrine where the spirits of the dead were consulted. It was natural to inquire of the departed in the place where they were supposed to have passed into another state of being. The banks of the Acheron, therefore, were the favourite resort of Necromancy. There was also high authority for this practice: Homer no sooner places here the souls of his Seers and Heroes, than he begins to consult them on the spot. We see no willows at present, such as are placed by him on the banks of the Acheron. There are, indeed, few trees of any kind in the plain, and none of any size: we see a few Oriental plane-trees, some low tamarisks by the water's edge, two or three wild figtrees, and some bright-leaved pomegranates; a somewhat melancholy group, but not inappropriate. A plucked fruit of the latter tree, bursting with the crimson grains which give it its name, and placed, as it was in ancient

times, in the hand of a sculptured figure of a deceased person reclining on a sarcophagus containing his ashes, served as a pleasing symbol to express the assurance that, though his life was now plucked from its stem, yet that it was not gathered too early, but ripely teeming with many seeds of rich fruit. The price of a few grains of the same tree gained also a Queen for the nether world.

In our way up the dark chasm of the Acheron, the River is on our right. We mount the hill of ZABRUCHO, whence there is a magnificent view of

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three fortresses crowning the crests of three lofty rocks, the citadels of Suli; that on our left is KUNGHI, in front is KIAFFA, to the right is ABARIKO.

Descending eastward from this hill, we arrive at the junction of the Acheron and a river falling from the left, which we cross by a bridge at a ruined mill. The valley is clothed with a luxuriant profusion of shrubs, among which we observe the myrtle, the lentisk, the prinári, the arbutus, and the broom. How little have the appellations of the most lowly natural objects been changed in Greece! These humble plants are known by the same words

which they bore of old, while the ancient titles of her Cities and Nations are heard no more. The name of Epirus has vanished: the names of its shrubs and herbs are still in the mouth of every shepherd.

Mounting along this woody glen, we pass between the Suliot castles of Kunghi and Kiaffa, seated, as it were, on their rocky thrones, from which they once domineered over the plain below. At SAMONIBA, in the intermediate valley, are some ragged uninhabited huts, shaded by wild fig-trees; but the most desolate object is the village of KAKO-SULI, lying a little beyond, once the capital of the mountain Republic. The skeletons of the houses are still standing; the hearths are yet black with their former fires; the staircases still lead to the upper chambers; but no one now dwells in