A waltz or two followed, and we were about calling for our horses, when the whole place was illuminated with a discharge of fireworks. Every description of odd figures was described in flame during the hour they detained us, and the bright glare on the trees, and the figures of the party strolling up and down the gravelled walks, was admirably beautiful.
They do these things so prettily here! We were invited out on the morning of the same day, and expected nothing but a drive and a cup of tea, and we found an entertainment worthy of a king. The simplicity and frankness with which we were received, and the unpretendingness of the manner of introducing the amusements of the evening, might have been lessons in politeness to nobles.
A drive to town by starlight, and a pull off to the ship in the cool and refreshing night air, concluded a day of pure pleasure. It has been my good fortune of late to number many such.
LETTER XXIX.
The Dardanelles—Visit from the Pacha—His Delight at hearing the Piano—Turkish Fountains—Caravan of Mules laden with Grapes—Turkish Mode of Living—Houses, Cafés, and Women—The Mosque and the Muezzin—American Consul of the Dardanelles, another “Caleb Quotem.”
Coast of Asia.—We have lain in the mouth of the Dardanelles sixteen mortal days, waiting for a wind. Like Don Juan (who passed here on his way to Constantinople)—
“Another time we might have liked to see ’em,
But now are not much pleased with Cape Sigæum.”