A RIDE TO MAGNESIA. 139 



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 Avas 

 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 nonplussed at the actual com- 

 plexion 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 ad uijinitum, we knew that something or 



