CHAPTER I.

Leave Beyrout.--Camp afloat.--Rhodes.--The shores of the Mediterranean
suitable for the cultivation of the arts.--A Moslem of the new
school.--American Presbyterian clergyman.--A Mexican senator.--A
sermon for sailors.--Smyrna.--Buyukdere.--Sir Stratford
Canning.--Embark for Bulgaria.


I have been four years in the East, and feel that I have had quite
enough of it for the present. Notwithstanding the azure skies,
bubbling fountains, Mosaic pavements, and fragrant _narghiles_, I
begin to feel symptoms of ennui, and a thirst for European life, sharp
air, and a good appetite, a blazing fire, well-lighted rooms, female
society, good music, and the piquant vaudevilles of my ancient
friends, Scribe, Bayard, and Melesville.

At length I stand on the pier of Beyrout, while my luggage is being
embarked for the Austrian steamer lying in the roads, which, in the
Levantine slang, has lighted her chibouque, and is polluting yon white
promontory, clear cut in the azure horizon, with a thick black cloud
of Wallsend.

I bade a hurried adieu to my friends, and went on board. The
quarter-deck, which retained its awning day and night, was divided
into two compartments, one of which was reserved for the promenade of
the cabin passengers, the other for the bivouac of the Turks, who