In February, 1838, he found himself at Smyrna. After a good deal of observation of men and manners, he betook himself to an inspection of the buildings. [Sidenote: _Journal written during an Excursion in Asia Minor_, pp. 8, seqq. (edit. 1852).] He soon found that not a little of the modern Smyrna was built out of the ruins of the Smyrna of the old world. Busts, columns, entablatures, of white marble and of ancient workmanship, were everywhere visible, in close admixture with the recently-quarried building-stone of the country and the period. But not only had the old marbles been built into the new edifices; they had been turned into tombstones. Certain Jews, of an enterprising and practical turn of mind, had bought, in block, a whole hill-full of venerable marbles, in order to have an inexhaustible supply of new tombstones close at hand. [Sidenote: _Ibid._, p. 9.] In another part of the suburbs of the town, the walls of a large corn-field turned out, on close examination, to be built of thin and flat stones, of which the inner surface was formed of richly-patterned mosaic, black, white, and red. From that day, the traveller, wheresoever he journeyed, was a scrutinising archæologist. And the traveller, thus equipped for his work, was busied, two months afterwards, in exploring that most interesting part of Asia Minor (a part now called ‘Anadhouly’), which includes Lydia, Mysia, Bithynia, Phrygia, Pisidia, Lycia, Pamphylia, and Caria; and much of which was never before trodden—so far as is known, and the knowledge referred to is that of the best geographers in England, discussing this matter expressly, at a meeting of the Geographical Society—by the feet of any European.[41] [Sidenote: THE EXPLORATIONS IN ANTIPHELLUS AND ITS VICINITY. 1838, April.] On the eighteenth of April, Mr. FELLOWS found himself in the romantically beautiful, but rugged and barren, neighbourhood of Antiphellus. The ancient town of that name possessed a theatre, and a multitude of temples, grandly placed on a far-outjutting promontory. For miles around, the rocks and the ravines were strewn with marble fragments. The face of the cliff, which, on one side, overhangs the town, was seen to be deeply indented with rock-tombs, richly adorned. They contained sarcophagi of a special form. The lid of each of them bore a rude resemblance to a pointed arch. It sounds at first almost grotesquely, in the ear of a reader of Mr. FELLOWS’ _Journal_ of 1839, to hear him speak of Lycian tombs as ‘Elizabethan’ in their architecture. But, in the sense intended, the term is strictly apposite. [Sidenote: _Journal of an Excursion_, &c., as above, p. 164.] If the reader will but glance at one of Mr. FELLOWS’ many beautiful plates of those rock-tombs, he will see at once that they look not unlike the stone-mullioned windows of our own Tudor age.