SMYRNA, 
111 
sort, both for business and pleasure, afford an excellent idea 
of Oriental life. The beauty of the Smyrniote women (some 
travelers call them ladies) is proverbial; nor has it, like most 
accounts of the refined state of society in Smyrna, been ex¬ 
aggerated. They certainly deserve their reputation for dark 
flashing eyes and classical features ; and that being the only 
flattering reputation they do deserve, from all I could learn 
on reliable authority, as well as from my own limited observ¬ 
ation, it affords me great pleasure to accord it to them. 
Lounging about the bazaars a day or two after my arrival 
in Smyrna, I thought I recognized a familiar voice. A fash¬ 
ionable-looking tourist was making a bargain for a fez. His 
dress was new to me ; but there could be no mistake in the 
voice. I went up cautiously and looked at his face. It was 
the face of an American gentleman whom I had met in 
various parts of Europe. Bimby was his name. He was in 
the most exquisite distress in regard to the texture of the fez. 
The fact is, poor Bimby was the victim of want; not that he 
was in want of money; he had plenty of that—too much for 
his own happiness ; but he always wanted something that it 
was very difficult, if not quite impossible, to find in this world. 
Every morning he got up oppressed with wants; every night 
he went to bed overwhelmed and broken down with wants. 
I never saw a man in comfortable circumstances in such a 
dreadful state of destitution in all my life. When I first saw 
him, he was on the way from Florence to Milan, in quest of 
a pair of pantaloons of a particular style. No man in Europe 
understood cutting except Pantaletti. There was a sit in Pant- 
aletti that made him indispensable. He (Bimby) had tried 
the Parisian tailors, but they were deficient in the knees. It 
was his intention to proceed at once from Milan to Leipsic for 
boots; the Germans were the only people who brought boots 
to perfection, and decidedly the best were to be had at Leip¬ 
sic. He expected to be obliged to return to Paris for shirts; 
there was a sit in the collar of the Parisian shirt that suited 
him. His medicines he always purchased in London ; his 
cigars he was forced to import from Havana; his Latakia 
tobacco he was compelled to purchase himself in Smyrna, 
