It was one bright morning, after a delightful passage, that the steamer made its way into the port of Smyrna, where everything around seemed to be full of novelty—strange craft manned by strange-looking crews, Turks with white turbans, Turks with scarlet fezzes and baggy breeches, and Turks with green turbans to show their reputation among their compatriots. Greeks, too—small, lithe, dark men, with keen faces and dark eyes, differing wonderfully from the calm, dignified, handsome Turks, but handsome in their way if it had not been for a peculiarly sharp, shifty expression that suggested craftiness and a desire to overreach, if not cheat.
There was a constant succession of fresh sights, from the Turkish man-of-war that was of British build, to the low fishing-boat with its long graceful lateen sail, spread out upon its curved and tapering spar.
Ashore it was the same. The landing-place swarmed with fresh faces, fresh scenes. Everything looked bright, and as if the atmosphere was peculiarly clear, while the shadows were darker and sharper as they were cast by the glowing sun.
For the sun did glow. The time was short since they had left England, with symptoms coming on of falling leaves, lengthening nights, and chills in the air, while here all was hot summer time, and one of the first things Mr. Burne said was:
“There’s no mistake about it, I must have out a blouse.”
They were soon comfortably settled in the best hotel, from whence the professor decided to sally forth at once to call upon and deliver his letters of recommendation to the British consul; but he was not fated to go alone.
“I want to see everything and everybody,” said Mr. Burne, “and I’ll go with you. Look here, Lawrence, my boy, I would not get in the sun. I’d go and lie down for an hour or two till we get back.”
“The sun seems to give me strength,” said Lawrence eagerly. “I have seen so little of it in London. I want to go with you, please.”
The professor darted a look at Mr. Burne which seemed to say, “Let him have his own way;” and the landlord having been consulted, a Greek guide or dragoman was soon in readiness, and they started.
“Look here,” said Mr. Burne, taking hold of the professor’s sleeve. “I don’t like the look of that chap.”
“What, the guide?”
“Yes! I thought Greeks were nice straightforward chaps, with long noses drawn down in a line from their foreheads, like you see in the British Museum. That fellow looks as if he wouldn’t be long in England before he’d be looking at a judge and jury, and then be sent off to penal servitude. Greek statues are humbug. They don’t do the Greeks justice.”
“It does not matter as long as he does his duty by us for the short time we are here. Be careful. He understands English.”
“Well, I am careful,” said Mr. Burne; “and I’m looking after my pocket-book, watch, and purse; and if I were you I should do the same. He’s a rogue, I’m sure.”
“Nonsense!”
“ ’Tisnt nonsense, sir; you’re too ready to trust everybody. Did you hear his name?”
“I did,” said Lawrence smiling. “Xenos Stephanos.”
“Yes,” grumbled Mr. Burne. “There’s a name. I don’t believe any man could be honest with a name like that.”
The professor showed his white teeth as he laughed heartily, and Mr. Burne took snuff, pulled out a glaring yellow silk handkerchief, and blew a blast that was like the snort of a wild horse.
It was done so suddenly that a grave-looking Turkish gentlemen in front started and turned round.
“Well, what is it?” said Mr. Burne fiercely. “Did you never see an Englishman take snuff before?”
The Turk bowed, smiled, and continued his way.
“Such rudeness. Savages!” snorted out Mr. Burne. “Don’t believe they know what a pocket-handkerchief is.”
“I beg your pardon,” said the Turk, turning round and smiling as he spoke in excellent English, “I think you will find we do, but we have not the use for them here that you have in England.”
“I—er—er—er. Bless my soul, sir! I beg your pardon,” cried the old lawyer. “I did not know you understood English, or—”
“Pray, say no more, sir,” said the Turkish gentleman gravely. And he turned to cross the street.
“Snubbed! Deserved it!” cried Mr. Burne, taking off his straw hat, and doubling his fist, as if he were going to knock the crown out. “Let this be a lesson to you, Lawrence. Bless me! Thought I was among savages. Time I travelled.”
“You forgot that you were still amongst steam, and post-offices, and telegraph wires, and—”
“Bless me! yes,” cried Mr. Burne; “and, look there, an English name up, and Bass’s pale ale. Astonishing!”
Just then the Greek guide stopped and pointed to a private house as being the English consul’s, and upon entering they were at once shown into a charmingly furnished room, in which were a handsome bronzed middle-aged gentleman, in earnest conversation with a tall masculine-looking lady with some pretensions to beauty, and a little easy-looking man in white flannel, a glass in one eye, and a very high shirt collar covered with red spots, as if a number of cochineal insects had been placed all over it at stated intervals and then killed.
He was smooth-faced all but a small moustache; apparently about thirty; plump and not ill-favoured, though his hair was cut horribly close; but a spectator seemed to have his attention taken up at once by the spotted collar and the eye-glass.
“Glad to see you, Mr. Preston,” said the bronzed middle-aged man. “You too, Mr. Burne. And how are you, Mr. Grange? I hope you have borne the voyage well. Let me introduce you,” he continued, after shaking hands, “to our compatriots Mr. and Mrs. Charles Chumley. We can’t afford, out here, not to know each other.”
Mutual bowing took place, and the consul continued:
“Mr. and Mrs. Chumley are bound on the same errand as you are—a trip through the country here.”
“Yes,” said the gentleman; “we thought—”
“Hush, Charley! don’t,” interrupted the lady; “let me speak. Are you Professor Preston?”
“My name is Preston,” said the professor, bowing.
“Glad to meet you. Mr. Chumley and I are going to do Turkey this year. Mr. Thompson here said that you and your party were going to travel. He had had letters of advice. We are going to start directly and go through the mountains; I suppose you will do the same.”
“No,” said the professor calmly; “we are going to take steamer round to one of the southern ports and start from there.”
“Oh, I say, what a pity!” said the little gentleman, rolling his head about in his stiff collar, where it looked something like a ball in a cup. “We might have helped one another and been company.”
“I
