"Fletcher's next epistle will be full of marvels: we were one night
lost for nine hours in the mountains in a thunder-storm,[130] and
since nearly wrecked. In both cases Fletcher was sorely bewildered,
from apprehensions of famine and banditti in the first, and drowning
in the second instance. His eyes were a little hurt by the lightning,
or crying (I don't know which), but are now recovered. When you write,
address to me at Mr. Strane's, English consul, Patras, Morea.
"I could tell you I know not how many incidents that I think would
amuse you, but they crowd on my mind as much as they would swell my
paper, and I can neither arrange them in the one, nor put them down on
the other except in the greatest confusion. I like the Albanians much;
they are not all Turks; some tribes are Christians. But their religion
makes little difference in their manner or conduct. They are esteemed
the best troops in the Turkish service. I lived on my route, two days
at once, and three days again in a barrack at Salora, and never found
soldiers so tolerable, though I have been in the garrisons of
Gibraltar and Malta, and seen Spanish, French, Sicilian, and British
troops in abundance. I have had nothing stolen, and was always welcome
to their provision and milk. Not a week ago an Albanian chief, (every
village has its chief, who is called Primate,) after helping us out of
the Turkish galley in her distress, feeding us, and lodging my suite,
consisting of Fletcher, a Greek, two Athenians, a Greek priest, and my
companion, Mr.
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