At half-past two o’clock the horses arrived.  I swung myself boldly upon my Rosinante, called on my good angel to defend me, and away we started, slowly at first, over stock and stone.  My joy was boundless when I found that I could sit steadily upon my horse; but shortly afterwards, when we broke into a trot, I began to feel particularly uncomfortable, as I could not get on at all with the stirrup, which was continually slipping to my heel, while sometimes my foot slid out of it altogether, and I ran the risk of losing my balance.  Oh, what would I not have given to have asked advice of any one!  But unfortunately I could not do so without at once betraying my ignorance of horsemanship.  I therefore took care to bring up the rear, under the pretence that my horse was shy, and would not go well unless it saw the others before it.  My real reason was that I wished to hide my manoeuvres from the gentlemen, for every moment I expected to fall.  Frequently I clutched the saddle with both hands, as I swayed from side to side.  I looked forward in terror to the gallop, but to my surprise found that I could manage this pace better than the trot.  My courage brought its reward, for I reached the goal of our journey thoroughly shaken, but without mishap.  During the time that we travelled at a foot-pace, I had found leisure to contemplate the scenery around us.  For half the entire distance we ride from one valley into another; as often as a hill is reached, there is a limited prospect before the traveller, who has, however, only to turn his head, and he enjoys a beautiful view over the Sea of Marmora.  After a ride of two hours and a half we arrived at a little khan, {71a} where we rested for half an hour.  Proceeding thence a short distance, we reached the last hills; and the great valley, at the end of which Brussa is seen leaning against Olympus, lay stretched before our eager eyes, while behind us we could still distinguish, far beyond hill and dale, the distant sea skirting the horizon.  Yet, beautiful as this landscape undoubtedly is, I had seen it surpassed in Switzerland.  The immense valley which lies spread out before Brussa is uncultivated, deserted, and unwatered; no carpet of luxuriant verdure, no rushing river, no pretty village, gives an air of life to this magnificent and yet monotonous region; and no giant mountains covered with eternal snow look down upon the plain beneath.  Pictures like these I had frequently found in Switzerland, in the Tyrol, and also near Salzburg.  Here I saw, indeed, separate beauties, but no harmonious whole.  Olympus is a fine majestic mountain, forming an extended barrier; but its height can scarcely exceed 6000 feet; {71b} and during the present month it is totally despoiled of its surface of glittering snow.  Brussa, with its innumerable minarets, is the only point of relief to which the eye continually recurs, because there is nothing beyond to attract it.  A little brook, crossed by a very high stone bridge, but so shallow