The record-union., 1893-02-18
Especial Correspondence of the RECORD
UNION. Copyright. 1881
LONDON, February 6, 1893.

LONDON, February 6, 1893.
When 1 first tramped over the Hights
of Nasciar, descending into the valley be-
yond, and saw spread before me the Bay
of st. Paul, a sense of awe, mingled with
glorious elation, came with the stiffness
and beauty of the spot where the heroic
Apostle was shipwrecked. The bay,
which is about two miles long and one in
breadth, is situated on the northern coast
OF Malta, and is hardly distant brisk
two hours walk from Valetta, the chief
city of Malta. Countless excursions are
made hither by water from Malta's capi-
tai, and often the roads are filed with all
manner of vehicles conveying pious or
curious pilgrims. L preferred coming in
the early morning and alone.
AS 1 stood on Nasciar flights the sun
was just rising above the promontory OF
Ras el Kaura. Its rays fell softly upon
the sleeping waters. They gave the little
memorial chapel a bright and smiling
face. They deepened the shadows on the
eastern shore where fishermen were laz-
lily spreading their nets. They pierced
the copses and chimes of the Melliha
slopes, disclosing the huts and cabins OF
the lowly folk who are nearly as naked
a1llu QulL6 dS llSLlGSS Ol CIVIL dS were
their barbarian foretathers among
whom st. Paul was cast nearly 1900
years ago. They mellowed the grayS OF
the massive walls of the ancient Salmona
Palace, which crowns the Melliha rocks
to the northwest. And where the little
Island of GZeier, like bit of the cliffs,
tumbled into the sea at the north, showed
its saffrony surface between the blue of
the bay and the sapphire of the sea, they
flooded the great statue of the saint with
such transcendent shine and seeming
that the qulckened fancy, for an instant
at least, swept across the centuries and
basked in the very presence of that far
and mighty soul.
A winding road skirts the beautiful
bay. An ancient wall, half hidden with
shrubs and flowers, forms a boundary
with a second pleasant roadway behind.
The fishermen, with their nets, some
donkeys grazing at the edge of the hill
slopes. seagulls in countless numbers,
ana a half-naked lad urging along herd
of goats, with rocks and pebbles, were the
only living things in view. Soon a
kindly-faced priest ioined me. We wan
dered down the road together. He had
come with the key of the little chapel
which is set on that point of the shore on
which tradition holds PauFs bark was
wrecked.
As we came leisurely along the shore
panion's attention. We stepped closer to
the whipping edge of the sleeping bay
The face OF the priest showed momentary
excitement, and he made the sign of the
cross. There, softly humping against a
low-lying shelving rock, fioated water
logged piece of a broken spar-wreckage
flashing instantly to the fancy wilder
scene OF nearly 1000 years ago, when the
fearless Apostle found a hospitable friend
IN the chief man of the island" 1t
proved a startling incident to my guide.
lie recalled the tradition that since st.
PauPs shipwreck within this very bay no
craft had ever gone to pieces on this part
of the coast, and not even so tritling a
hint of the terrors of the sea had ever
come to the shore as we had Just seen.
Ruminatively, and much disturbed, he
led the way to the chapel.
1t is tiny chapel with an interior of
utmost simplicity. But three of its pict-
ures, whose subjects are the shjpwreck,
the miracle of the viper and the healing
OF Publius' father, are remarkable, while
the yearly votive offerings, the good faith
er told me, are very great. The priests
adios and blessings followed me from the
place, and as l turned my steps toward
ancient Citta Necchia, the last object in
st. PauPs Bay my eyes rested upon was
The ledge of struggling rocks where the
Two seas met" 1t was trimmed with a
simmer of glistening ripples as tiny.
shining and slumberous as though but
echoing the dreamful songs of sirens in
viting TO haven of endless sleep.
From my habit of wandering alone.