The Bey having been officially apprized of our arrival, and that we were desirous of paying our respects to him, appointed a day to receive us; and when the time arrived we proceeded to the castle, accompanied by Signor Rossoni, the British vice-consul at Bengazi, and his brother, Mr. Giacomo Rossoni. We found the Bey in a plain whitewashed room of unimposing dimensions, but cool and tolerably clean, seated upon cushions spread round a niche which had been formed in the wall for the purpose. On each side of this recess, or alcove, were ranged the principal officers of the household, the chaouses, and several shekhs; other parts of the room were occupied by slaves and persons of inferior condition. There was much less ceremony in the court of Bey Halīl than in that of the Bashaw at Tripoly, and the conversation appeared to have been pretty general before we entered the apartment in which he received us. The hum of voices subsided all at once as we made our appearance, and every person’s eyes seemed determined to exert themselves in proportion as his tongue was laid under restraint; for the steady gaze of all present was fixed upon our party as we took up our stations near the Bey. We found his excellency a good-looking, well-formed man, who, apparently from inactivity and good living, had attained to that state of dignified _embonpoint_ at which persons of inferior consideration in Mahometan countries are very seldom destined to arrive. A Georgian by birth, Bey Halīl possessed strongly the Asiatic cast of countenance and features, and an expression of unassumed and unreserved goodnature gave a pleasing character to his sharp, black eyes. His reception of our party was in unison with his appearance; and the formal inclination of the head, usually made by Mahometans to strangers whom they honour with their notice, gave place to a hearty English shake of the hand; while a cordial _Bon giorno! Ti sta bono?_ was substituted for the grave and ceremonious _salam_, which, whenever it is offered by the faithful to unbelievers, is almost invariably dictated by politeness or policy merely. Near the Bey stood his secretary, Hashi (whose pale and thin countenance, and weak, inflamed eyes, appeared to testify that his place was no sinecure); and two of his head chaouses, one a native of Constantinople, a short, corpulent, sleepy-looking personage; the other a tall, raw-boned, hard-featured Arab, who had shewn great bravery and activity in petty wars with the Bedouin tribes, and whose shattered hand bore testimony to his exploits. Several persons came in from time to time, and having kissed his excellency’s hand, and made the appropriate salams, squatted themselves down in different parts of the room, according to their rank and station, and began with great attention their survey of our party.