“The Troad is a fine field for conjecture and snipe-shooting, and a good sportsman and an ingenious scholar may exercise their feet and faculties to great advantage upon the spot;—­or, if they prefer riding, lose their way (as I did) in a cursed quagmire of the Scamander, who wriggles about as if the Dardan virgins still offered their wonted tribute.  The only vestige of Troy, or her destroyers, are the barrows supposed to contain the carcasses of Achilles, Antilochus, Ajax, &c.;—­but Mount Ida is still in high feather, though the shepherds are now-a-days not much like Ganymede.  But why should I say more of these things? are they not written in the Boke of Gell? and has not H. got a journal?  I keep none, as I have renounced scribbling.

“I see not much difference between ourselves and the Turks, save that we have ——­, and they have none—­that they have long dresses, and we short, and that we talk much, and they little.  They are sensible people.  Ali Pacha told me he was sure I was a man of rank, because I had small ears and hands, and curling hair.  By the by, I speak the Romaic, or modern Greek, tolerably.  It does not differ from the ancient dialects so much as you would conceive:  but the pronunciation is diametrically opposite.  Of verse, except in rhyme, they have no idea.

“I like the Greeks, who are plausible rascals,—­with all the Turkish vices, without their courage.  However, some are brave, and all are beautiful, very much resembling the busts of Alcibiades:—­the women not quite so handsome.  I can swear in Turkish; but, except one horrible oath, and ‘pimp,’ and ‘bread,’ and ‘water,’ I have got no great vocabulary in that language.  They are extremely polite to strangers of any rank, properly protected; and as I have two servants and two soldiers, we get on with great eclat.  We have been occasionally in danger of thieves, and once of shipwreck,—­but always escaped.

“Of Spain I sent some account to our Hodgson, but have subsequently written to no one, save notes to relations and lawyers, to keep them out of my premises.  I mean to give up all connection, on my return, with many of my best friends—­as I supposed them—­and to snarl all my life.  But I hope to have one good-humoured laugh with you, and to embrace Dwyer, and pledge Hodgson, before I commence cynicism.

“Tell Dr. Butler I am now writing with the gold pen he gave me before I left England, which is the reason my scrawl is more unintelligible than usual.  I have been at Athens and seen plenty of these reeds for scribbling, some of which he refused to bestow upon me, because topographic Gell had brought them from Attica.  But I will not describe,—­no—­you must be satisfied with simple detail till my return, and then we will unfold the flood-gates of colloquy.  I am in a thirty-six gun frigate, going up to fetch Bob Adair from Constantinople, who will have the honour to carry this letter.