and his habits were as settled as a Turk’s.  We passed a beautiful village in a valley on the right, and came into olive groves and vineyards, as the dusk was creeping on.  It was a lovely country of orchards and gardens, with fountains spouting by the wayside, and country houses perched on the steeps.  In another hour, we reached the sea-shore.  It was now nearly dark, but we could see the tower of Moudania some distance to the west.

Still in a continual trot, we rode on; and as we drew near, Mr. H. fired his gun to announce our approach.  At the entrance of the town, we found the sourrudjee waiting to conduct us.  We clattered through the rough streets for what seemed an endless length of time.  The Ramazan gun had just fired, the minarets were illuminated, and the coffee-houses were filled with people.  Finally, Francois, who had been almost in despair at our non-appearance, hailed us with the welcome news that he had engaged a caique, and that our baggage was already embarked.  We only needed the vises of the authorities, in order to leave.  He took our teskeres to get them, and we went upon the balcony of a coffee-house overhanging the sea, and smoked a narghileh.

But here there was another history.  The teskeres had not been properly vised at Brousa, and the Governor at first decided to send us back.  Taking Francois, however, for a Turk, and finding that we had regularly passed quarantine, he signed them after a delay of an hour and a half, and we left the shore, weary, impatient, and wolfish with twelve hours’ fasting.  A cup of Brousan beer and a piece of bread brought us into a better mood, and I, who began to feel sick from the rolling of the caique, lay down on my bed, which was spread at the bottom, and found a kind of uneasy sleep.  The sail was hoisted at first, to get us across the mouth of the Gulf, but soon the Greeks took to their oars.  They were silent, however, and though I only slept by fits, the night wore away rapidly.  As the dawn was deepening, we ran into a little bight in the northern side of a promontory, where a picturesque Greek village stood at the foot of the mountains.  The houses were of wood, with balconies overgrown with grape-vines, and there was a fountain of cold, excellent water on the very beach.  Some Greek boatmen were smoking in the portico of a cafe on shore, and two fishermen, who had been out before dawn to catch sardines, were emptying their nets of the spoil.  Our men kindled a fire on the sand, and roasted us a dish of the fish.  Some of the last night’s hunger remained, and the meal had enough of that seasoning to be delicious.