with a red cross, when suddenly a terrible cry echoed from street to street, for the Turks had been perceived on the heights overlooking the town.  Terrified and despairing, the whole population hastened to fall prostrate before the Virgin of Parga, the ancient guardian of their citadel.  A mysterious voice, proceeding from the sanctuary, reminded them that the English had, in their iniquitous treaty, forgotten to include the ashes of those whom a happier fate had spared the sight of the ruin of Parga.  Instantly they rushed to the graveyards, tore open the tombs, and collected the bones and putrefying corpses.  The beautiful olive trees were felled, an enormous funeral pyre arose, and in the general excitement the orders of the English chief were defied.  With naked daggers in their hands, standing in the crimson light of the flames which were consuming the bones of their ancestors, the people of Parga vowed to slay their wives and children, and to kill themselves to the last man, if the infidels dared to set foot in the town before the appointed hour.  Xenocles, the last of the Greek poets, inspired by this sublime manifestation of despair, even as Jeremiah by the fall of Jerusalem, improvised a hymn which expresses all the grief of the exiles, and which the exiles interrupted by their tears and sobs.

A messenger, crossing the sea in all haste, informed the Lord High Commissioner of the terrible threat of the Parganiotes.  He started at once, accompanied by General Sir Frederic Adams, and landed at Parga by the light of the funeral pyre.  He was received with ill-concealed indignation, and with assurances that the sacrifice would be at once consummated unless Ali’s troops were held back.  The general endeavoured to console and to reassure the unhappy people, and then proceeded to the outposts, traversing silent streets in which armed men stood at each door only waiting a signal before slaying their families, and then turning their weapons against the English and themselves.  He implored them to have patience, and they answered by pointing to the approaching Turkish army and bidding him hasten.  He arrived at last and commenced negotiations, and the Turkish officers, no less uneasy than the English garrison, promised to wait till the appointed hour.  The next day passed in mournful silence, quiet as death.  At sunset on the following day, May 9, 1819, the English standard on the castle of Parga was hauled down, and after a night spent in prayer and weeping, the Christians demanded the signal of departure.

They had left their dwellings at break of day, and, scattering on the shore, endeavoured to collect some relics of their country.  Some filled little bags with ashes withdrawn from the funeral pile; others took handfuls of earth, while the women and children picked up pebbles which they hid in their clothing and pressed to their bosoms, as if fearing to be deprived of them.  Meanwhile, the ships intended to transport them arrived, and armed English soldiers superintended the embarkation, which the Turks hailed from afar with ferocious cries.  The Parganiotes were landed in Corfu, where they suffered yet more injustice.  Under various pretexts the money promised them was reduced and withheld, until destitution compelled them to accept the little that was offered.  Thus closed one of the most odious transactions which modern history has been compelled to record.