I remember to have heard an anecdote of a facetious barber, who, while operating upon the chin of a customer, commenced catechising his victim on the subject of his foreign travel. “You are an army gentleman, I believe, Sir; pray were you in Egypt?” “Yes.” “Really! then perhaps you saw the Pyramids?” “Yes.” “Travelled a little in Greece, perhaps, Sir?” “A little.” “Pleasant place, Greece, I’ve been told; Athens, and all that. I dare say you fought in the Peninsula?” “Once or twice.” “Charming country, Spain, I’ve heard, Sir; indeed I’ve read Gil Blas, which gives one a very pretty notion of it. Plenty of oranges in Portugal, Sir?” “Plenty.” “Vastly nice, indeed, quite a favourite fruit of mine. Did you ever serve in the East or West Indies, Sir?” “In both.” “Really! why you’re quite a traveller. Of course, Sir, you’ve seen Paris?” “Never.” “Never seen Paris, Sir!” exclaimed the man of suds and small-talk: “never visited the French metropolis! why, dear me, Sir, you have seen nothing!” In like manner, he who travels to the East—who feasts with Pashas in Europe, and eats pillauf with Beys in Asia—who peeps into palaces—glides in his swift caïque along the channel of the Bosphorus—overruns all Turkey, and half Egypt, and returns home without smoking a pipe on the summit of Mount Olympus, has, according to the declaration of the natives, “seen nothing.” Of course it was out of the question that I should add to the number of these unthrifty travellers; and accordingly on the morning of the 11th of June (at least two months too soon), the horses were at the door at four o’clock; and, shaking off my sleepiness as well as I could, I set forward, accompanied by a Greek gentleman, with whose charming family we had formed a friendship, and who was himself well calculated by his scientific acquirements to enhance the enjoyment of the expedition, our servant, and a guide, for the dwelling of the Gods. The morning was yet gray; the mists were hanging in wreaths about the mountains, and draping them in ermine; the dew was lying heavily on the dense vegetation; a few straggling peasants passed us on the outskirts of the sleeping city, some bearing scythes upon their shoulders, affixed to straight poles about eight feet in length—or carrying round spades of wood—or driving before them the animals who were to return laden with mulberry branches for the nurture of the silk-worms which are reared in millions at Broussa. The number of individuals constantly employed in providing food for these insects must be very great, as we have counted upwards of two hundred horses, mules, and donkeys, bearing closely-packed loads of boughs, passing in one day beneath our windows from the same gate of the city; and, as the immense plain is covered with trees, which are each year cut closely down to the trunk, the consumption may be imagined.