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RURAL SCENERY.

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murmuring stream, whose banks are overshadowed by a beautiful blossoming shrub, called the "Laurier rose" by the Franks. I frequently in the evening take long walks among these undulating hills, a circumstance which has greatly puzzled some Turkish charcoal burners in the neighbourhood, who, after many conjectures upon the subject, have at last, I understand, set me down as a madman, not being able to conceive that an individual should walk about the country, toiling over the hills and descending into the valleys, without having any apparent object in view or any urgent motive to excite him to the exertion. I was obliged to give up a favourite walk past a watermill, in a very secluded situation, where a group of cottages were huddled together, in consequence of the curiosity that seemed to be excited among the few occupants of the humble dwellings by my presence and my supposed unfortunate excited state of mind!

The sunsets are at the present time most beautiful, and the softness of the air quite delicious. All the shrubs, the trees, and the grass are filled with an insect which makes a continued unceasing noise, something like the chirping of the cricket, but more shrill and much louder. The noise from these insects is sometimes quite extraordinary,

very monotonous, but not altogether unpleasing. They appear to be a species of very large fly, but it is most difficult to catch them, as the instant you approach the spot where they are heard they cease their noise.

Aug. 22nd.-For some days past immense. flights of storks have been wheeling through the air in a southerly direction, sometimes extending in lines all across the horizon. I never saw such a number of large birds; they are, say the Turks, making the pilgrimage to Mecca, which, according to them, they do annually; and for this they are called hajjis or pilgrims.

Aug. 23rd.-Rain has fallen for the first time since June, and the change is delightful. It has been merely a shower, but the earth sends forth a delicious fragrance, and some of the shrubs which appeared quite dead now begin to grow green again. This evening, as we rode through the cemetery, we met a Turkish funeral. The body is carried to the grave with the head foremost, and the turban is placed at the top of the coffin. Dervishes walk before in procession, and the friends and relations keep up a sort of chaunt.

Aug. 24th. The view at sunset from the eminence about two miles north of Boujah is most beautiful. You walk up a gradual ascent over

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abrupt undulating ground, everywhere naked and unpicturesque. The ascent is so gradual that you are unaware of the altitude you have attained until you find yourself suddenly standing upon the brow of a mountain, and looking down from a great elevation upon the magnificent plain of the Hermus, lying extended under the feet like a map, and bounded by the bold, lofty, waving chain of Mount Sipylus, the ground shelves away from the ridge on which you stand in steep descents and slopes covered with olive trees and vineyards. To the westward is seen the ruined desolate castle of Smyrna, crowning the summit of Mount Pagus, and beyond, the deep blue waters of the gulph. There is a balminess in the air, a stillness and calm tranquillity at this hour of sunset, which produce a most pleasing effect upon the mind; and the varied colours of the landscape, with the soft mellow light spread over every object, give a singular charm to the surrounding scenery. The waters of the gulph are burnished with gold as the sun dips into them, the blue of the mountains is shaded off with the faintest purple, while their summits are illuminated by the last rays of the sun. The valley, intersected with hedges of myrtle and numerous trees, is gradually assuming the sable colourless garb of evening, and the tink

ling of the goat-bell on the mountains or the bark of the shepherd's dog, are the only sounds that disturb the surrounding solitude.

Although there are no carriage-roads in this part of the world, yet there is an English landau in the village, in which the ladies drive with a pair of horses regularly every evening over the turf, and over the level open part of the plain; they are confined to one beat, a circuit of about three miles, and can never vary their drive. To get the carriage into Smyrna, the wheels must be taken off, and it must be slung on mules; there, however, it is perfectly useless.

August 25th.-On my return this evening after dark from a walk, I was surprised by the apparition of a bright light elevated a few feet from the ground in a knoll of fir-trees, which I immediately lost on changing my position. After some difficulty I succeeded in finding the spot where it was located, and pulling down a tile and the branches of some trees, I found a species of oven with a lamp burning inside; beside the lamp was a bunch of flowers, and at the end of this little recess was stuck a picture. Quite at a loss to conceive the meaning of this little establishment, but perceiving that a great deal of care had been displayed in its construction, I replaced the

EXCURSION TO CLAZOMENÆ.

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tile, and on returning home, I found from inquiry that it was a spot held very sacred by the Greeks, from a tradition that St. John had preached there! On which account they constantly kept a lamp burning, and have constructed this little mud house to shelter their light from the weather.

August 27th. We made an excursion to the ruins of Clazomenæ, about six hours' ride from Smyrna, at the bottom of the Gulph of Vourla. We passed to the southward of the Castle Hill, and skirted along the beautiful shores of the gulph. The western shore presents a luxuriant and a beautifully green appearance. Between the mountains and the water extends a rich plain well planted with trees, through the waving branches of which may be seen the blue waters of the gulph. This plain is in many places covered with green sward, which is in spring beautifully enamelled with flowers. The young Smyrniotes make frequent shooting excursions to these delightful shores in boats, and at certain seasons of the year guns may be heard popping in every direction. About five miles from Smyrna are the hot springs, supposed to be the site of the antient hot baths called the Agamemnonian, from a story that the Grecian army, ravaging Mysia, was engaged by Telephus near the river Caicus, and

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