Chapter IV: Part 4

"So they call me," answered the poacher; "but how happens it that I meet you here so early with such a pretty companion? You have also apparently been out poaching. If I can help you in any way, let me know." "In time of need," said the Cornet, "the first friend is the best. I am the Major's son at Vestervig, and have been fetching a bride from Ansbjerg. Her father and a whole troop of horse are after us. If you can save or conceal us, I will be grateful while I live; but it must be instantly, for they are on the other side of the rivulet."

Holding his hat before his eyes on account of the sun, Mads exclaimed, "Faith! here we have him sure enough, with all his people. Kinsmen are hardest towards kinsmen, as the fox said, when the red dogs were after him. If you will promise never to make known the place to which I take you, I will try to hit upon some plan."

The Froeken promised, and the Cornet swore.

"Hear then, children," continued he, "they are just now riding along the bank on the opposite side of the rivulet; before they can arrive on this side, a good time must pass; and they cannot see what we are about. In the mean while we will set up a hedge for them that they will not so easily jump over." Saying these words, he laid down his gun, drew forth his tinder-box and struck fire. He then rubbed two or three handfuls of dry moss together, placed the tinder-box among it, blew till he caused it to blaze, then cast it down into the midst of the heather, where, after crackling and smoking for a few seconds, the fire spread itself in all directions. While engaged in this occupation, the object of which was not immediately manifest to the fugitives, Black Mads did not cease giving vent to his thoughts in the following broken sentences:--"The wind is with us, the heather's dry; now Niels keeper can soon get a light for his pipe--it is the second time he has had the benefit of my tinder-box; the man will, no doubt, curse and swagger about the heath-fowl, because I roast them without basting; but need knows no law, and a brave fellow takes care of himself. See now! it's beginning to smoulder." With these words he rose, and said to the Cornet, "Do now as you see I do, pull up a head of heather, set fire to it, run ten paces towards the north, and fire the heath; then pull up another, run, and again set fire, all towards the north, till you approach that little heath-hill yonder two or three gunshots distant. I will do the same towards the south, and then we will run as quickly back. The Froeken can in the mean time stay here with the horse. It will soon be done: now let us begin! Light before and dark behind." With this formula the poacher commenced his operations. The Cornet followed his instructions, and soon a tract of heath, two miles in breadth, stood in a blaze, and both incendiaries immediately rejoined the trembling Froeken.

"We have now earned our breakfast!" cried Mads, "be so good as follow me, and put up with very humble accommodation--but what can we do with this?" he gave the mare a slap with his open hand, "Can you find your way home alone?"

"O," said the Froeken, "she follows me wherever I go."

"No, that she certainly must not, for she would betray us: the door of my house is too narrow for her to enter, and we dare not let her stand without. You are too good to suffer harm," said he to the mare, while taking off the saddle and pillion, "but every one is nearest to himself."

The Cornet, who saw his design, took his mistress by the hand and led her some stops aside, as if to place her beyond the range of the conflagration. The poacher took his piece, cocked it, went up to the side of the mare, held it behind her ear, and fired. The Froeken turned round with a shriek of horror, just in time to see her poor Dun, sinking down among the heather. Tears of pity flowed down the pale cheeks of the sorrowful girl.

"The jade is as dead as a herring," cried Mads, by way of comforting her; "she did not even hear the report."

He then took off the bridle, laid saddle and pillion on one shoulder, his gun on the other, and began to move onwards, at the same time encouraging the lovers to follow as fast as they could, with the grateful intelligence that his castle lay at no great distance.

"Only don't look behind you," added he, at the same time quickening his pace, "but think of Lot's wife."

The Froeken, though in a riding habit,[15] was unable to go so fast through the tall heather. She frequently stumbled and entangled herself in the branches. The Cornet, therefore, without waiting for permission, took her in his arms, and, notwithstanding her reluctance, bore her away.

"Now we are at home," at length cried their conductor, at the same time flinging saddle and package at the foot of a little heath-grown hill.

"Where," cried the Cornet, also relieving himself of his burden. He looked around without discovering any thing bearing the remotest resemblance to a human habitation. A suspicion darted rapidly into his mind; but for a moment only. Had the man been a murderous robber, he could long ago have executed his villanous purpose without any risk of resistance, as long as he himself had literally both hands full.

"Here," answered the poacher; at the same time raising a very broad piece of turf and laying it aside, he said, "Some days since I lived above ground, there I might not remain; but it is a poor mouse that has but one hole." While saying this, he lifted and laid aside four or five stones, each as large as a strong man could carry, and now an opening was disclosed to view sufficiently wide for a person to creep into it.

"It looks as if they had been digging out foxes here," said the Cornet.

"So it should look," answered Mads; "but before we go in, we will just see around us, not on account of the Ansbjerg folks, who cannot yet have passed by the fire, but there might possibly be others in the neighbourhood." They looked on every side: to the south, west, and north, not a living being was to be seen, and all the eastern quarter was hidden in clouds of smoke so dense that the beams of the morning sun were unable to penetrate them.

"Have the kindness to stoop," said Mads, while he himself crept in on all fours, "and just follow me. The door is low, but the place will very well hold us; I will bring your baggage in instantly."

With some difficulty they followed their conductor, and soon found themselves in the subterranean dwelling, a spacious apartment, the walls of which were composed of huge unhewn stones, and the roof of beams laid close to each other, from which hung a lamp, whose faint light but imperfectly illumined the objects present. On the one side were two beds, a larger and a smaller; on the other a bench, a table, two or three chairs, a chest, and two hanging presses. In the smaller bed lay three naked children, who, on the entrance of the strangers, dived, like so many young wild ducks, under the covering. On the side of the large bed sat Lisbeth, _alias_ Madame Mads, knitting a stocking, which in her astonishment she let fall with both hands into her lap. At the end of the table stood a little red-haired man, clad in skin from his chin to his knees, whom the host introduced to his guest as his good friend Mikkel Foxtail. "We were once digging here," added he, smiling, and pointing to Mikkel, "after his half-brother,[16] and so found this nook. Mike thinks it has been a robber's cave in former times; but it may also have been some old warrior's burial-place, for there stood there two or three black pots with bones and ashes in them." At the name of "robber's cave," a shudder passed over all the Froeken's frame: her lover observing it, said in French, "Fear not, my dearest, here we are secure; but it pains me that the first habitation into which I conduct you, should inspire you with horror and disgust."

"I will show you all my conveniences and luxuries," continued the poacher, at the same time opening a door in the background. "There is my kitchen, where we dare have fire only in the night; here is also my dining-room," added he, pointing to a salting trough and some legs of venison that were hung to smoke over the fire-place. "Bread and meat I have also got, and I bought a drop of mead in Viborg with the last deer-skin." With these words, he set a stone bottle and a wooden dish, with the aforesaid provisions on the table. "Eat and drink as much as you desire, and of whatever the house affords; and when you wish to depart, you shall have a trustworthy guide."

The Cornet pressed the hand of the honest Troglodyte, and said, "At the present moment I have nothing to offer you but my thanks--"

"I require nothing," said Black Mads, interrupting him; "but promise me only that you will never betray me or my cave."

With the most solemn assurances, this promise was given; and the lovers now partook of a breakfast, to which hunger and joy at their safety imparted a double relish.

At the suggestion of their host, they resolved on waiting till evening, before they again entered on their interrupted journey. In the meantime, Mikkel offered to go out and reconnoitre; both to watch the pursuers, and make inquiry after the carriage from Vestervig. The first time he went no further than the opening of the cavern, from whence he informed them, that the party had ridden round the burnt space, and, in two divisions, proceeded westwards. Some hours after, he ventured out a short distance on the heath, and returned with the intelligence, that they had now taken a north-west direction, and that the heath would most probably be quite safe, as they could not suspect that the fugitives were still on it, and had no doubt been led out of the right track by false information. A little past noon Mads and Mikkel went out together, the latter to order a conveyance in one of the villages lying to the west. After an hour had passed, Mads returned with the intelligence that he had met with a young fellow who appeared to him somewhat suspicious, and who from his accent seemed to be a German. He inquired the way to the inn at Hvam, and whether some travellers had not passed by in the course of the day. From the description of the young man's person and dress, the Cornet felt convinced that it was his brother's Hungarian servant. They therefore both went out, and were so fortunate as to overtake him about a mile from the cave. We will not detain the reader with the Hungarian's account relative to the non-appearance of the carriage, but merely mention, that both he and the coachman had mistaken for Karup rivulet that which runs some miles to the west, and where the carriage was then waiting. With equal brevity, we will further remark, that a little before noon he had been stopped and interrogated by the pursuers, and that he had not only skilfully extricated himself out of this examination, but had sent them in a direction which he rightly judged would not lead them into the track of the fugitives, of whose fate, however, he was in a state of the most painful uncertainty.

The next morning, the Cornet and his fair companion arrived safe at Vestervig, where they became man and wife, and obtained from his elder brother, the owner of the estate, a small country house at Thye for their habitation. Junker Kai got at first a galling disappointment, and secondly, after the lapse of a twelve-month, a still richer Froeken from the Isle of Fyen. The lord of Ansbjerg and his lady washed their hands clean of their daughter, and, notwithstanding the humble and penitent letters of her and her husband, were not to be reconciled.

THE HORSE-GARDEN

Near the west end of Ansbjerg wood there is an open space, consisting of an extensive green, entirely surrounded by old venerable beeches. Annually, on the first afternoon of Whitsuntide, the greater part of the inhabitants of the neighbouring parishes are accustomed to assemble at this spot. On that day many houses stand empty, and in many are left only the blind and the bed-ridden; for the halt and crippled, provided they lack not the sense of seeing, must once a-year enjoy themselves amid the new fresh verdure, and--like Noah's dove--bring home a bright green beechen bough to their dusky dwellings.

What joy! what shoals! The Horse-Garden--so is this trysting-place named--at this time resembles a bee-hive; incessant bustle, endless pressing backwards and forwards, in and out: every soul bent only on sucking in the honey of joyousness, and imbibing the exhilarating summer air. How they hasten, how they flutter from flower to flower! greet, meet, separate, familiarly, gaily and hastily! How many a young swain brings or finds here the lady of his heart! At a considerable distance from the hive may be heard its ceaseless hum and tumult.

The nearer you approach, the more varied is the joyous uproar. The monotonous hum resolves itself into shout, song, and laughter, rattling of leaves, sound of fiddles and flutes. Swarms pour in and out on every side of the green wood. The lower orders in their Sunday garments, the higher classes in elegant summer attire, cavaliers in black, ladies in white.

"Is there dancing here?"

"Oh, yes, here is a forest ball, a dance on the elastic greensward."

"Do you see that village fiddler by the large beech yonder, towering high above the surrounding multitude? Do you see how rapidly his bow dances up and down amid hats adorned with flowers? And there is a regular country dance, a real Scottish!"

"Am I in the Deer-park, in Charlottenlund?"[17] you will ask. "See what a number of carriages, elegant equipages, coachmen in livery, horses with plated harness, tents with cold meat and confectionery, coffee-pots on the fire, families reclining on the grass around a basket of eatables!"

You are in the Horse-Garden. This is Whitsuntide's evening in Lysgaard district,--the beauteous Nature's homage-day. Thus is this holiday celebrated till the sun goes down; but formerly it was only the common people of two or three neighbouring parishes that assembled here, though this innocent merry-making is, without doubt, an ancient custom, as old as the wood itself.

Ten years after the events related in the foregoing chapters had taken place, the summer festival was, as usual, held in the Horse-Garden. A man from whose grandson I in my young days heard the story, gave the following account of it:--

"It was during my first year's service as bailiff at Kjaersholm, I had my sweetheart at Vium; she was distantly related to the clergyman there. On the first day of Whitsuntide she agreed to meet me in the Horse-Garden, where we arrived so early that we found ourselves the only persons in the place. We wandered for an hour or two in the wood, until the sound of a violin announced to us that the people were assembled. We went to the spot as lookers on, sat down and observed the dancers. Shortly after, I noticed that two gentlemen, with a lady and two children, were approaching along the path leading from Ansbjerg. Being a stranger in the neighbourhood, I inquired of my companion who they were. 'Hush,' answered she, 'it is the family. The tall stout man is the old gentleman who became a widower about five years since. The young one, with a scar on his cheek, is his son-in-law, the lady his daughter, and the two Junkers their children. Ten years ago she eloped by night with the young gentleman. While the old lady was living, a reconciliation was not to be thought of; but after her death, the old gentleman allowed himself to be persuaded, and he received them into his house. At his decease they will inherit both house and land.' The party continued standing for some time, amusing themselves with looking at the country folks, and then gave them something for drink. On a tree that had been levelled by the wind, sat two elderly men, with a jug of beer between them, and each with his pipe. On the family approaching them they rose and took the pipes from their mouths.

"'Sit still,' I heard the young man say; and turning to the elder, 'you are now better friends than when you struck a light for Niels' pipe by Karup rivulet?'

"'Yes, gracious sir,' answered the person addressed with a smile; 'there is no animal however small that will not fight for its life. It was a bad business, yet has turned out well.' The party laughed.

"'Be careful,' said the old gentleman in going away, 'that you do not get jammed between the branches of the deer you are riding on there.' At this they all laughed heartily, and I could, from time to time, hear the old man's jolly roar, that resounded far in the wood.

"'What does that allude to?' said I to my companion, 'and who are these two old men?'

"'The one,' answered she, 'in the green frock, with the gray hat, is the gamekeeper. The other, in the brown habit, is Mads the under-ranger, who lives close by, and whom the young gentleman brought with him. The story of the deer I will tell you.'

"While she was relating this and the whole history of the elopement, my notice was attracted by a pair, who were having a dance to themselves, while all the others stood watching them.

"'Who are they?' inquired I; 'they look a little remarkable, particularly the youth in the long yellow skin ineffables, in that blue jacket, and that extraordinary cap on his head?'

"'He is no youth,' answered she, 'but a married man; it is his wife he is dancing with; he comes from Turkey, and accompanied his young master home from the wars. He is secretary and gardener, and is both pot and pan in the house. His wife has been long in the young lady's service, and, they say, helped her away when she eloped from her parent's house.'"

And now my story is ended. Many ages of man lie between then and now. There has been ringing and singing over several generations since the persons therein commemorated passed to eternal rest. Both the old and the young lords of Ansbjerg have long been forgotten in the neighbourhood, and no one now knows aught to tell of Black Mads. The manor-house has often changed its proprietors, the lands have been sold and divided.

Of the robber's cave alone, an obscure and confused tradition has been preserved. On the great heath, about two miles west of Karup stream, are some heath-covered hills, which yet bear, and ever will bear that sinister name; but no one now thinks that there was once an asylum for tender and steadfast love, a paradise underground.

A RIDE TO MAGNESIA.

The sun was already below the horizon, when we entered on the plain of Magnesia. Our poor brutes were sadly jaded; for the latter part of the journey had been very severe. For some time it had been over a rocky path, strewn with loose stones; and the last stage is by a pretty abrupt, and very rough descent. My poor animal had cast a shoe, and the only relief that could be afforded in his calamity, was to dismount and lead him. We, too, were somewhat tired; but the glorious sight that burst upon us, bathed our spirits afresh in the waters of invigoration. The road had, for some time, kept us dodging among crags and corners, which allowed no prospect, and where, indeed, we were well employed picking out our way. But when we emerged, what a sight did we behold! One of the noble Asiatic plains stretched before us. Far as the eye could reach, to right and left, the green expanse extended; and immediately before us, it was only in the far distance that the boundary of hills was seen. Here and there clumps of trees variegated the turf; and a fair river wound itself amid all, looking like some huge and silvery serpent disporting itself in this apt solitude. Think how beautiful such a scene must have looked at evening, when the tops of the hills, and a few fleecy clouds were rosy in the sunbeams. Its expression was Paradisaical, the rather because the empire of Peace was invaded by no sight nor sound. The air was absolutely still, except for the sound of our own footsteps: as for our voices, after the first expression of delight, they were hushed. We seemed to be gazing on some primeval solitude,--on the spot where Astraea might have last lingered, and whence the impress of her footstep had not been yet obliterated by the violence of man. It was a perfect presentation of the still and calm, and touched the same associations that are made to thrill by Flaxman or Retsch.

On the verge of this plain, snugly ensconced under the lee of the hills we had been descending, lies the city of Magnesia. It is of reverend aspect, and quite worthy of its incomparable situation. It is placed so closely under the hills, that its details are very gradually unfolded to one advancing. First appears a minaret, that most graceful of architectural conceptions; then comes a burying ground, and at last peep out the domes of the baths and mosques, and particular houses. The place has quite the air of having come to hide itself in this quiet nook; and its inhabitants seemed to be of the same mind, for not one of them could we see. At such an hour, poetic justice demanded that there should have been, scattered over the ways, groups of peasants returning from their toil, and citizens refreshing themselves with an evening walk. But here seemed to be no fields to cultivate. All looked as if it were common land; and one could but feel what a first-rate exercising ground Oglu Pascha had for his cavalry. As for the citizens, walking does not come within their idea of enjoyment; to which exertion is so essentially opposed, that probably half of them would forego their very pipes, if smoking were attainable only on condition of filling and lighting for one's self.

Now, let me say, that a wayfarer's trouble is not always over when he has arrived at the city of his destination. I should like to put any one who thinks it is, outside of one or two places that I know, and tell him to find his way in. _Le grand capitain_ thanked the garrison of Malta for having had the kindness not only to capitulate, but to open the gates for him, as otherwise he did not see how he should ever have got in. And so, I opine, there be places where a capitulation would be incomplete without the attendance of one of the indigenous to act as pilot. I am afraid that I might have taken this journey in vain, and sighed in exclusion, had I been left to my own devices for the effecting of an entry. The river surrounds, in great part, the walls; and one might make pretty well the entire circuit before hitting the right point of ingress. But one of us was gifted with topographical instinct in high degree, and at once nosed the course that was to lead us to the bridge. Our poor brutes seemed to sympathise in the refreshment of our spirits; and even my unfortunate Rosinante consented to his burden, and put his best foot foremost. One of his feet, alas! was what maritime gentlemen would call a regular _worser_--the foot which lacked a shoe, and which, defenceless, had to sustain such rude battering. The hoof of this foot was cracked, and I was in much tribulation, both on the poor horse's account and on my own. But I made the best of the circumstances; encouraging the animal with all that I could remember and imitate of the dialect in which man converses with the horse; and comforting myself with thinking how soon the poor fellow would be stabled and shod.

The bridge, over which we passed, was very pretty and not very shaky, nor by any means so broken-backed as are the greater number of Turkish specimens. At the moment of our passing, it was lined with venerable old fellows, who had turned out to enjoy their evening pipe. They were dressed in the most approved and unreformed style, and many of them had long beards, descending to the girdle. They sat in perfect stillness, no man speaking to, or seeming to care for his neighbour. Indeed, from experiences among them, we might almost argue that though man is by nature gregarious, he is conversational only by acquirement. At any rate, they show how few words may answer all the purposes of business, and how little all of us would talk, if wives and domestic matters were proscribed subjects. As we passed through the midst of them, not a soul looked at us, not a nudge did one of them give to his neighbour, not a puff less of smoke was emitted. One might have concluded it to be with them an every day occurrence to see three Europeans ride in such style into their town. Yet you might be bold to say, that they had never seen such an entry before. The mode of travelling is so strictly regulated by necessity, that, in all probability, of all the few Franks who have entered this place, none have ever done so in the independent style we affected. At least if, by chance, some couple may have done so, it has certainly been where there has existed a knowledge of the people and language. If our appearance did not at first enlighten them as to our greenness and ignorance, we soon stood confessed by our attempts at inquiry. Our first object was, of course, to discover the habitation of the Seraph, whose name we had written down in our own character; as the hieroglyphics which stood for direction to the letter would have been no guide to us. Now, our stock of words did not go the length of any direct inquiry; for _Katch Sahet_, our old stand-by, was now used up.

"Seraph,--Seraph,"--we sang out, with as strong an expression of inquiry as we could throw into our looks and gestures. At this some of them certainly did look up, but with the least excitement conceivable. One of the more benevolent vouchsafed to us a few words, but soon stopped with the most unmistakeable look of pity when he saw that we did not understand him. Evidently he pitied our ignorance and despised us. No farther attempt was made to enlighten us; nor were the peaceful seniors in the least discomposed at the unsuccessful result of the inquiries that possibly were uttered in the speech of the old man. We had nothing for it but to go a-head, and trust to the chance of falling in with some one better skilled in the language of signs. Oh, thought we, had it been any where near Naples that this escapade had conducted us, we might have done well. Among those pantomimic people the language of the lips becomes an unimaginative and lazy expedient, by no means necessary to the uses of communication. Nature, whose voice is one to all, has given to them such force of gesture, that it must be a very long and difficult story that they could not tell or understand without words. But poor old John Turk is a different animal, and can be dealt with only by dialectic precision. Never had we seen such an exemplification of their incurious, impassible diathesis as they now presented to our cost. We turned back a long and admiring gaze at the group as we passed onwards, for truly it was a most picturesque position. But we had to revert to the present necessity of finding some lodging, more perhaps on account of the horses than of ourselves. For us it would have been no great hardship to pass the night, should need be, on the dry soft turf, beneath the clear sky, which shone so purely above us that we absolved the neighbourhood from all suspicion of marshes, which are the only objection to sleeping in the open air in this country. All looked dry, and clear, and pure. But our poor horses, who had been beguiled into an effort by the sight of the town, began now again to droop, and evidently considered us chargeable with a breach of promise in thus prolonging their labours. Whither to go we could not tell. A labyrinth of streets lay before us, and amongst them it was our object to pick out the way to the Armenian quarter. Turks keep early hours, and but few people were astir in the streets when we entered, and after our wanderings had continued but a short time scarcely a soul was to be seen. Now I am prepared to say, that no desolation is like the desolation of strangeness in a large city. St. Jerome in the wilderness, or Stylites on his pillar, were not more lonely than many a poor recluse in our city of two million inhabitants. And we ourselves would have been infinitely more at ease had we been called upon to bivouac beyond the sight of human habitation.

Up one street and down another we passed, till we were wearied almost beyond endurance, and really uneasy for our cattle. We met no one; or if we did, no one that noticed us. The muffled figure of some woman would pass by, who, when she saw the gaoors, would draw her veil yet more closely over her, and hurry, on her way. One or two children stopped to stare at us; but we knew experimentally that their untutored fanaticism was more likely to have a shy at our heads, than to attempt to understand or direct us. We kept a sharp look-out for some Greek or Armenian house wherein, for lucre's sake, we might be received in the first instance: reserving to ourselves the introduction to the Seraph as a _bonne bouche_. But still we wearied on, and saw no hospice. All was, shut up, and closed. They were evidently not of the social temperament that distinguished our Smyrna friends,--no doors were open, no family parties visible, no suppers spread out. Some two hours passed away--night fairly descended; and then the place might have passed for a city of the dead.

The fix was becoming unquestionably awkward, and our mirth, which had thriven wonderfully on the absurdity of our position, was passing over to what old ladies call the wrong side of our mouths. Such an incurious, apathetic set we had never before met. If our expectation had not been exactly that some bustling Boniface, would have come rushing out to welcome us to his best parlour, we had at least reckoned on finding some person who knew the value of money, and the requirements of strangers. But we were completely nonplused at the actual complexion of affairs, and I am afraid began to be out of humour with this particular part of the Sultan's dominions. Still, however, we retained that facetious satisfaction that every wise man finds at the bottom of a really good embroglio,--viz., the sense of having concocted an adventure, and the curiosity of seeing what will come of it. Thus, though appearances were as if we should have to remain riding about those streets _in infinitum_, we knew that something or other must turn up; and were only a little impatient for the denouement.

At last we stumbled on the benevolent stranger who was to help us out of our difficulty. A man in Christian costume was seen hastening towards us with the air of one who had heard that his friends were in trouble, and needed his assistance.

"Bona sera, signori."

How musical did the words sound!

"Oh man," said we, "_per carita_, tell us what good soul of a Greek will take us into his house this night."

"_Padroni miei_, you are too late to get into any house this night. They are all gone to bed, and their houses are shut up. You must go to the Khan."

"Do you know where the Seraph ---- lives?"

"Surely I know--it is not far from this spot."

"Then, if you would be very kind, you will take us to his house: for we have a letter for him, and we hope to put up at his house."

"_Andiam_,--come along; it is late, but the Seraph will not have gone to bed, for he is rich, and has much business. Only, my masters, you must make haste, so that if he cannot receive you, I may have time to lead you to the Khan before that be also shut."

This last was a very disagreeable suggestion; but we would not admit in our own minds the probability of our needing the resources of public entertainment. We had made up our conclusions that the Seraph was a very good fellow; and that no good fellow would turn us adrift under the circumstances, even though the entertainment of us might cost him a little inconvenience.

For something like another quarter of an hour we followed our benevolent guide, who led us into a quarter of comfortable and respectable appearance. It was not inferior to the Armenian quarter of Smyrna, except in respect to pictorial effect as a whole. The houses were particularly good, and built in a more seclusive spirit; the better ones being almost all detached. Before one of the very best of these our guide stopped.

"Here lives the Seraph ----."

It was a domicile of most promising appearance, surrounded by a garden, and in every respect snug and unexceptionable. We had so lived in hopes of finding this house, and so thoroughly made up our minds to stop therein, that we were nearly riding at once into the enclosure as if we had been invited and expected. We were discreet enough, though, to consider that the worthy Armenian might possibly be a little startled at the unexpected apparition of such a party, so detached K---- as a deputation, to present our compliments, and accept the invitation which we doubted not would follow.

J---- and myself remained without the gate to take care of the steeds, and to expect the result of our embassy. We exchanged congratulations on the good fortune of having brought up in such snug quarters, and agreed that we were all right now. If the Seraph could not receive us himself, he would be sure to know some family of the place which would, on his recommendation, receive us. But after some few minutes we began to think our messenger was a long time away, and I determined to have a peep at what was going on. I entered the garden, and saw at once that the work was in no prosperous condition--the letter was not even yet read. The worthy merchant had evidently been disturbed in the prosecution of culinary duties, for a vessel of water was before him, and a lettuce in his hand. He had taken a good look at K----, who was not quite unabashed at this cold reception, and was now minutely inspecting the letter before opening it. Like most moneyed men, he was very silent and very deliberate. At last he got the length of opening the letter, and slowly read it through. This being achieved, it did not seem to occur to him that it was necessary to say any thing to us. The scene was much such as might take place at the reception of some poor relative by a rich London merchant.

"Signore Seraph," said K----, "our friend John gave us this letter to you, because he thought you might like to be of some service to us during our short visit."

"What can I do for you?"

"You can tell us of some house where we can put up for the night."

"I do not know any such house. There is none such in Magnesia."

"You cannot mean to say that none will receive the friends of your countryman, John."

"Gentlemen, you must go to the Khan. I know of no place but the Khan. In the Khan you will find excellent accommodation." And having said thus much, he recommenced scuttling about among his cookery, and fairly turned the cold shoulder on the whole party of strangers.

Now this gentleman was a bad specimen of his kind, thus to dishonour the recommendation of his very respectable friend at Smyrna. Or perhaps something had gone wrong with him that day on 'Change. Certain it is that such a reception we had never before experienced. In every place to which we had come, we had always found some one who, for love or money, was glad to receive us. In more than one case, it had been for the former consideration; and indeed in some villages it is the recognised privilege of the greatest man to receive the wayfarer. It is to them a rare occasion of playing the entertainer, and, besides, gives them an opportunity of hearing all sorts of travellers' tales. Besides, it is a good office, which they themselves may require at any time; and it is, even on sordid grounds, good policy for them to establish relations of hospitality throughout the country. One case is in my recollection, where a large party of us, with I know not how many followers and horses, were received most cheerfully, though arriving at a late hour, and in such formidable numbers. The most hospitable attention was paid to us, and abundant provision of all kinds made; and at our departing our entertainers would receive no penny of recompense. And other such can I remember, though none perhaps where the demand was so strong.

Rejected from the gate of the Seraph, whom we voted a barbarian and a curmudgeon, our ambition resolved itself into the anxiety to reach the Khan before they shut up for the night. Our new acquaintance, who had guided us to this inhospitable threshold, was waiting for us outside, as though in distrust of our being received. He stuck by us like a good man and true, till he had conducted us far away to the upper part of the town, where lies the Khan.

We saw a large building, with a frontage something like Newgate. On a rude sort of divan, in the doorway, sat the Khandgi smoking, who gave not the least sign of noticing our approach. Through the doorway we had a perspective view of an inner court of considerable extent, in different parts of which glimmered the cheerful blaze of fire and lamp. Several people were passing to and fro, and altogether the place looked far more life-like than the dull streets through which we had been passing.

Our friend approached and saluted the Khandgi, who returned the compliment with all grave civility. A colloquy then followed on the subject of ourselves, during which the Turk read our personal presentments with some apparent interest. It probably required some scrutiny to convince him that men travelling thus unattended were not vagabonds. Perhaps the same idea had something to do with the shortcomings of our friend the Seraph. In the present case the result was of a more satisfactory kind, for the Khandgi uttered a courteous welcome, and motioned to us to dismount. Our friend, to whom we had previously explained our necessities, told us that, in consideration of his request, the Khandgi would take the trouble of supplying our wants in the way of eating, though, as the bazaar was long since closed, we should have to wait some time for our supper. We were only too glad to hear that there was any prospect of a refection, and, thanking him heartily for his good offices, we entered the caravanserai.

Immediately at the entrance of this hostelry was an uncommonly snug little apartment, wherein many of the more sociable of the guests were taking their baccy. Our will was very good to have made a temporary lodgement here while the more substantial repast was in course of preparation. But we followed the respectable gentleman to whose care we had been consigned. Our luggage was not very cumbersome, consisting only of our saddles and holsters, which we were able to remove at once, as the two hours' patrolling had quite cooled the horses. Poor things! they had still to wait for their provender, for though we signified that we wished them to be fed directly, the authorities gave us to understand that they must wait. They have a great objection in these parts to feed any particular horse, or horses, except at the same time with all the others, believing that those of the animals who have nothing to eat, hearing the others chumping their corn, are made envious. It is but fair to them to say, that they are very kind to the brute creation. To their care we left our quadrupeds awhile, and ascended to what was to be our chamber. We passed along an extensive gallery with a great many doors, at one of which our conductor stopped and produced a large key. We were introduced to a moderately capacious cell, entirely bare of furniture, but quite clean. Of this room and key we were put into possession, and, throwing down our traps, made ourselves comfortable. It was exactly like the cell of a prison; massy stone walls, with one little aperture by way of window, which, however, was not barred, neither was it glazed; at which we were not astonished, for glass is hereaway an expensive, or at least an unusual luxury. The character of the Khan is consistently observed throughout, as we learnt subsequently more particularly--viz., that of a place which affords necessities, but no superfluities--nothing portable. House and home you cannot easily carry about with you, and these the public institution provides; but all things edible, or wearable, or convenient, you must provide for yourself.

Our good friend brought a lamp, which he set upon the floor; and, as the evening was coolish, and the cell had the air of not having been tenanted for a long time, we signified to him that a fire would be agreeable. Having made the exception in our favour, in virtue of which he had undertaken to supply our various necessities, he set about fulfilling his contract with a good will, and seemed only anxious to know what he could do for us. We pointed to the bare floor, and insinuated an appeal to him, as a man of honour and a gentleman, whether such a couch did not admit of improvement. It is very probable that he uttered in his sleeve some objurgation on Frankish luxury, that could not be contented to sleep as other people did; or, at any rate, to provide capotes like other people. But he signified to us his intelligence of our meaning, and his ready acquiescence; and soon entered a satellite laden with rugs, on which a prince might have reposed, to say nothing of a weary traveller.

Behold us, then, stretched on our couches around the fire, soothing our spirits with that best of smoking inventions, the nargille. The providing of these, and of coffee, _without sugar_, came within the legitimate province of the Khandgi, who keeps a cafe in the establishment; every thing else that he may give you, is of pure grace. Should any body, in these travelling days, be ignorant of the constitution of a nargille, let him understand that it is a smoking device on the same principle as a hookah, but marvellously superior in effect. The smoke is drawn through water by means of a long, snake-like tube. Herein lieth its agreement with the Indian vanity; but the difference is this, that instead of the sickly composition, half rose-leaves, half guava jelly, that composes the chillum of the hookah, the nargille is fed with pure tobacco; of a particular kind, indeed, and passing by a particular name, but still a veritable specimen of the genus nicotiana. It is called timbooke, and professes to come only from Persia.

We were not left long in undisturbed possession of our apartment. The key had been made over to us with much formality; but we soon found that our tenancy was understood to imply no right of seclusion. The news of our arrival had spread, and sundry of the other inhabitants of the Khan were smitten with the desire of seeing what sort of animals these were who travelled in such fashion. Our door opened, and first one man, and then another, entered in the most unconcerned style. It was highly amusing to see how coolly they walked in: some saluted us, and some did not. Some brought their pipes or nargilles, with which they squatted on the floor, and watched us. As we could not talk to them, they talked to one another about us; staring, at the same time, with all their eyes, and pointing unconstrainedly to the individual or object that happened, for the time being, to engage their curiosity. Many addressed inquiries to us, and shrugged their shoulders at our ignorance of a language with which, probably, they had never before met any one unacquainted. These gentlemen, be it remembered, were not of the sober inhabitants, but chance occupants of the inn--merchants and vagabonds of all kinds. Merchants, among them, always are vagabonds; men who travel with their wares from one place to another, according to the complexion of markets.

We were at least as much amused at marking them, as they were with us, and not much more constrained in our personal observations. Many an equivocal compliment fell harmless on their ears, which, had it been understood, would have ruffled their smiles. At last an individual entered, who evidently came on business. He made a short announcement to us, and waited for a reply. Of course no reply was forthcoming, except some general invitation to sit down and make himself happy. This he was by no means disposed to do. He repeated his words with an emphasis that seemed to imply that he was not to be trifled with, and that it was no use pretending not to understand him. He exemplified what I suppose to be a general fallacy of our nature,--for I have often encountered the same anomaly,--that is to say, he repeated his words slowly and emphatically, as if one, though ignorant of the language, could not fail to comprehend his meaning, if expressed clearly and deliberately. We were brought no whit nearer to a sense of the emergency.

As in despair he continued to repeat one word, "Aivan, aivan," in a tone that appealed to our every sympathy as reasonable beings, we felt the full indecorum of our continued unintelligence, and would gladly have compounded, by appearing to understand, and allowing the event to work itself out. But this would not satisfy our friend: there was evidently something to be done by us.

"Aivan, aivan!" shouted the assistants, in chorus.

It was useless. The word was not in our vocabulary. He now began to gesticulate vehemently, passing his hand several times over his face, and performing other evolutions. These to me, I confess, conveyed no meaning; but K----, being of quicker apprehension, somehow extracted from the pantomime an idea of the fact.

"Depend upon it, he means something about the horses."

S---- improved upon this suggestion, turning to account the extra knowledge that he possessed of the ways of these people. "I have it. He means where are the halters for our horses. These are never provided in the Khan stables, and all travellers take them for themselves."

Here we were at fault: none of us had been provident of this article, and we wanted words to beg the stable-man to provide, if he could, the halters, and put them in the bill. In the midst of our perplexity a man entered, whom we hailed as a friend in need. He was a Greek, unmistakeable by physiognomy, even had he not been so by dress. How delightful it was to find a channel of communication re-opened, those only can judge who, like us, have been deprived of the uses of speech. Our words became, indeed, epea pteroenta. In a trice he explained to us the whole matter, which was as we had supposed. He appeared to be quite proud of the distinction of being the only person who could communicate with us, and assumed the office of interpreter with great gusto. Through him we explained that we should like to pay a visit to the stables, and the groom summoned us at once to follow him. The company all cleared out as we rose; partly from civility, and partly because they wanted to see a little more of us. We did not, in the least, doubt the honesty of these gentry; but, seeing that so little ceremony existed as to right of entry into our apartment, we did not know but that some unscrupulous person might take advantage of our absence to overhaul our effects. We therefore judged it prudent to remove those of our effects which might most strongly provoke their cupidity. Our saddles were heavy, and could not easily be pocketed, but our pistols might have been stowed away under their voluminous dresses, and carried off without the observation of the Khandgi. These, therefore, we carried with us, and with such garniture I personally cut a pretty figure. My weapons were so prodigiously long, that their but-ends considerably overtopped the boundary of my pockets, and gave me thoroughly the air of a highwayman. The exhibition amazed us, but did not appear to strike the natives as extraordinary, who doubtless thought that such was the ordinary walking attire of our nation.