Except for this one accident, all the interest of this fresh cruise of
mine lay on the side of the picturesque. Greece with her mythological,
poetic, and historical memories, and the great severe outlines of her
landscapes, struck me with admiration. But this was quickly overshadowed
by the impression made upon me by my first glimpse of Asia--the
Mussulman East, which Lamartine's Voyage and Decamps' pictures had made
me long so eagerly to know. My joy, therefore, may be conceived, when I
saw, as I landed at Smyrna, the living image of Decamps' masterpiece, La
Patrouille de Smyrne, now at Rotterdam, passing by me--the very same
police officer trotting along on his hunched-up Turcoman horse,
surrounded by his policemen, regular bandits, running beside him,
covered with brilliant rags and glistening weapons. This worthy police
agent, whose name was Hadgy-Bey (which we promptly turned into
"Quat'Gibets"), very soon became our ally. I did his likeness. He was
all smiles whenever we met, and he winked at all our young midshipmen's
pranks One they played was rather too strong, and roused the fury of the
Turks. Smyrna was at that time the most Eastern of Eastern towns, full
of tortuous bazaars, and narrow alleys winding in and out, in which
circulation, difficult enough at all times, sometimes became impossible
for hours, when long strings of camels, fastened together with ropes,
were going along them. Nothing could have been more vexatious than these
blocks, which man and beast alike seemed to take pleasure in prolonging,
whenever the Giaours seemed annoyed by them.

What, think you, did our middies do? A great many of them together (for
we had a very strong naval squadron at Smyrna just then) hired donkeys,
tied them together with long cords, mounted them, each rider with a long
pipe in his mouth and affecting a quiet Eastern gravity of demeanour,
and off they started.