858 The National Geographic Magazine 



The ruins of Colophon lie between two 

 exceedingly picturesque Turkish villages. 

 The artist who, through the encroach- 

 ments of modern industrial enterprises, 

 no longer finds in New England or else- 

 where the old mill on the floss, the house 

 with the seven gables, or the romantic 

 wayside inn should pack up his easel and 

 brushes and come to Asiatic Turkey. 

 Here he will find subjects for his talents 

 such as few other countries possess. 



In the villages of Deirmendere and 

 Trantsha, near Colophon, for example, 

 he will find Turkish life and customs at 

 their purest — such as they have ever 

 been during the past six hundred years : 

 Houses constructed of mud bricks with 

 straw roofs ; latticed windows, from be- 

 hind which peer the encaged females ; 

 coffee-houses, wherein sit the turbaned 

 Turk cross-legged, listlessly smoking a 

 nargileh or sipping coffee in Oriental in- 

 dolence; labyrinthian streets shaded by 

 plane and poplar trees, with stately 

 camels and dwarfish donkeys; majestic 

 groves of cypresses, and neglected ceme- 

 teries studded with a wilderness of ir- 

 regular headstones ; on the minaret of the 

 near-by mosque there is the never-failing 

 stork ; then there are brooks spanned by 

 quaint bridges ; around these villages 

 there are green meadows enclosed by 

 winding lanes ; and beyond all these, in 

 the background, rise up the rents of 

 ruin — old Colophon. 



It is a steep climb to the necropolis of 

 Colophon, but the effort will be rewarded 

 by the sight of many tombs, all of which, 

 however, have been opened. Some of 

 these tombs are built in the shape of 

 square towers, but the greater part are 

 either round or elliptical in nature, very 

 similar in appearance to the tomb of Tan- 

 talus at old Smyrna, and evidently dating 

 from about the same period. Today the 

 necropolis is covered by a thick growth of 

 tall pines, and the tombs must be searched 

 for among the trees. At one of these 

 large tombs the guide given me by Mr 

 Van Lennep explained that when the in- 

 terior of the tomb was opened two skele- 

 tons were found lying side by side, one 

 of a man and the other of a woman, evi- 



dently husband and wife. The man was 

 lying on his back and the woman on her 

 face. Among the conjectures offered in 

 explanation of this, one of the zaptiehs 

 advanced the theory that the woman was 

 buried face downward, so that the good 

 lady could not talk too much in her sleep. 



On descending from the acropolis we 

 were met near the village of Deirmen- 

 dere by a dignified Turk, who invited us 

 to become his guest to the extent of hav- 

 ing some coffee. I cheerfully accepted 

 his hospitality and our host escorted us 

 through the village, striding on before 

 with an empty double-barreled shot-gun 

 over his shoulder. His house consisted 

 of two stories, one room above and one 

 below, with a somewhat shaky stairway 

 leading to the one above. Arriving there, 

 we were informed that we could either 

 take coffee in the yard below or in the 

 room upstairs, which belonged to the 

 ladies of the diminutive harem. 



Upon our choosing to drink coffee up- 

 stairs, we were informed that the women 

 must first be removed, and as we as- 

 cended the rickety stairs four of them 

 were brought out on the small veranda 

 and placed side by side with their veiled 

 faces toward the wall while we filed past. 

 For the first time I found myself in the 

 dwelling-place of a village Turk of the 

 lower class. There were no chairs in the 

 room ; two mattresses stretched on either 

 side of a lighted fireplace were covered 

 with Turkish rugs of the cheaper quality. 

 Reclining upon these floor divans, we 

 watched our host prepare the coffee. 



It is a custom of the country mounted 

 police to surrender their rifles to their 

 host immediately upon entering the 

 household, and in this instance our body- 

 guards laid their weapons on the floor. 

 I learned upon this occasion that it is also 

 the custom of the police, in this part of 

 the country, to carry unloaded rifles — a 

 circumstance which does not increase 

 their efficiency, if they should be called 

 upon to defend the stranger against 

 brigands. 



* To be concluded in the January, 1909, 



number. 



