When we were about a mile off, we were met by the Mayor and several
Councillors, among whom was a venerable old man, who was introduced to
me by the Mayor (for so I suppose I should call him) as the gentleman
who had invited me to his house. I bowed deeply and told him how
grateful I felt to him, and how gladly I would accept his hospitality.
He forbade me to say more, and pointing to his carriage, which was
close at hand, he motioned me to a seat therein. I again bowed
profoundly to the Mayor and Councillors, and drove off with my
entertainer, whose name was Senoj Nosnibor. After about half a mile the
carriage turned off the main road, and we drove under the walls of the
town till we reached a _palazzo_ on a slight eminence, and just on the
outskirts of the city. This was Senoj Nosnibor’s house, and nothing can
be imagined finer. It was situated near the magnificent and venerable
ruins of the old railway station, which formed an imposing feature from
the gardens of the house. The grounds, some ten or a dozen acres in
extent, were laid out in terraced gardens, one above the other, with
flights of broad steps ascending and descending the declivity of the
garden. On these steps there were statues of most exquisite
workmanship. Besides the statues there were vases filled with various
shrubs that were new to me; and on either side the flights of steps
there were rows of old cypresses and cedars, with grassy alleys between
them. Then came choice vineyards and orchards of fruit-trees in full
bearing.
The house itself was approached by a court-yard, and round it was a
corridor on to which rooms opened, as at Pompeii. In the middle of the
court there was a bath and a fountain. Having passed the court we came
to the main body of the house, which was two stories in height. The
rooms were large and lofty; perhaps at first they looked rather bare of
furniture, but in hot climates people generally keep their rooms more
bare than they do in colder ones. I missed also the sight of a grand
piano or some similar instrument, there being no means of producing
music in any of the rooms save the larger drawing-room, where there
were half a dozen large bronze gongs, which the ladies used
occasionally to beat about at random. It was not pleasant to hear them,
but I have heard quite as unpleasant music both before and since.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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