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RUINS AT THE HEAD OF KNIGHT STRADA, RHODES. This street, still called by the name of the Knights of St John, is deeply interesting. From the scene of the landing-place, delineated in a former view, passing under a gothic gate, you turn round to the right among several other gothic buildings, and ascend this street, which is steep and narrow, and quite silent. The armoury, to which there is a very curious old door, is at the bottom; and at the top stands the great church, now a mosque. On either side of the streets are the houses of the knights; the arms of the former occupants are over the small doorway—principally those of ancient families in France, Spain, Italy, or Germany. What happy hours of power and prosperity did these chevaliers formerly spend here, in this the most beautiful isle of the Grecian Archipelago, whether for the purity of its climate, the richness of its vegetation, or the splendour of its prospects! Rhodes is a delicious retreat from the gay and conflicting world; and the knights were like little sovereigns, in their central position: their island was like the rich palm-grove and fountain in the desert, to which came wanderers of all nations. Greece, Syria, Turkey, Asia Minor, and Egypt, were all within a few days' sail. Their public buildings were like palaces — their fortifications splendid, and deemed invulnerable, as their remains still attest It is impressive to walk up this narrow street, which, except at noon, is partially shaded: as you pause before the doorway, and look up at the casemented windows, one cannot help picturing the thoughts and feelings of the bold and successful men who lived there; they were mostly men of family and education, of eminent bravery, and sometimes of eminent talent. Had the pen been then wielded while the sword was idle, what a wild picture would the ambitious and restless soldier have left! and what a dreamy island-tale, the more devout and enthusiastic one!Not the Moorish king, when driven from Granada, had more cause to weep bitterly when he looked his last on her towers, than the soldiers of St John when Rhodes was lost to them. This steep and confined street, than which few places are now more silent, has a prison-like look; the stone houses are massive, and strongly built. The low minaret of the mosque is seen above the arch of the gateway: this was formerly the great church, where all the chevaliers assembled to worship; now it is filled with the followers of the Prophet; although its aisles, and pillars, and gothic aspect, give it but little the appearance of a mosque. It is not easy to decide what the ruins here delineated could have been. In the foreground is a Turkish lady on a donkey; her figure, swathed like that of a mummy, her eyes only visible through the two holes in the white veil: the Christian girl to the left is a more simple and interesting-looking being; a few other figures are passing at intervals; there is a shade and coolness about the place, which is welcome in the heat of day. Rhodes is a very cheap place; a moderate income is here sufficient to enable a man to live en prince; wine, provisions, and house-rent, are all low: five hundred pounds a year would constitute a superb income: three hundred would be

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