After this, we were left to our charcoal and cushions until six o’clock; save that my father smoked a costly pipe with a mouthpiece of the colour and almost of the bulk of a lemon, in company of our host, a tall, majestic-looking man, upwards of six feet in height, whose black calpac differed from those of the Armenians in its superiority of size and globular form, and whose furred garments, heaped one above another, seemed to me, shivering as I had lately been under a sharp spring breeze on the water, the very embodiment of comfort. A Greek dinner is a most elaborate business; rendered still more lengthy by the fact that the knives, forks, and other appliances which European example has introduced, are as yet rather hindrances than auxiliaries to most of those who have adopted them. When we had taken our places at table, I looked around me with considerable interest—we were truly a large party—all the junior members of the family, who had been throughout the morning “on household cares intent,” were gathered around the board; and such a circle of bright black eyes I never beheld before in my life! The very aspect of the repast was _appetissant_—the portly tureen of rice soup was surrounded by every tentative to appetite that can be enumerated; pickled anchovies, shred cheese, dried sausage divided into minute portions, pickles of every description, salt tunny-fish, looking like condensed rose leaves, and Adrianople tongues sliced to the thinness of wafers. The sparkling Greek wines were laughing in light among dishes upheaped with luscious confectionary—Sciote pastry—red mullet, blushing through the garlanded parsley among which they were imbedded, and pyramids of pillauf slightly tinged with the juice of the tomato. More substantial dishes were rapidly handed round by servants, and a delicious dessert crowned the hospitable meal, at whose termination we hurried to our several apartments, and were soon immersed in all the mysteries of the toilet. The house of the merchant by whom the ball was to be given, and whose name was Kachishesh Oglou, signifying “Son of the Hermit,” was next door to that in which we were already guests; and the cheerful music of the Wallachian band gave earnest of its commencement long ere we were ready to augment the festive crowd: and a crowd it truly was, a perfect social kaleidoscope; for the variety of costumes and colours in constant motion formed a gay and characteristic piece of human mosaic. There were the venerable men whose hair and beards had grown gray with age, and who had scorned to put off the garb of their fathers; the dark globular calpac and the graceful pelisse—the _tiers étât_ of fashion, in their semi-European dress, the ill-cut frock-coat, and the scarlet _fèz_, drawn down to their very eyebrows—and the young, travelled beaux, in their pride of superior knowledge and _tenue_, gloved and chausséd with a neatness and precision worthy of the school in which they had studied.