y, and bribing him with two piastres, we crossed the narrow line of
gardens on the western side, and entered the streets. There were many
coffee-houses, filled with smokers, nearly all of whom accosted us in
Turkish, though Arabic is the prevailing language here. Ignorance made us
discourteous, and we slighted every attempt to open a conversation. Out of
the narrow streets of the suburbs, we advanced to the bazaars, in order to
find a khan where we could obtain lodgings. All the best khans, however,
were filled, and we were about to take a very inferior room, when a
respectable individual came up to Francois and said: "The house is ready
for the travellers, and I will show you the way." We were a little
surprised at this address, but followed him to a neat, quiet and pleasant
street near the bazaars, where we were ushered into a spacious court-yard,
with a row of apartments opening upon it, and told to make ourselves at
home.

The place had evidently been recently inhabited, for the rooms were well
furnished, with not only divans, but beds in the Frank style. A lean
kitten was scratching at one of the windows, to the great danger of
overturning a pair of narghilehs, a tame sea-gull was walking about the
court, and two sheep bleated in a stable at the further end. In the
kitchen we not only found a variety of utensils, but eggs, salt, pepper,
and other condiments. Our guide had left, and the only information we
could get, from a dyeing establishment next door, was that the occupants
had gone into the country. "Take the good the gods provide thee," is my
rule in such cases, and as we were very hungry, we set Francois to work at
preparing dinner. We arranged a divan in the open air, had a table brought
out, and by the aid of the bakers in the bazaar, and the stores which the
kitchen supplied, soon rejoiced over a very palatable meal. The romantic
character of our reception made the dinner a merry one. It was a chapter
out of the Arabian Nights, and be he genie or afrite, caliph or merchant
of Bassora, into whose hands we had fallen, we resolved to let the
adventure take its course. We were just finishing a nondescript pastry
which Francois found at a baker's, and which, for want of a better name,
he called _meringues a la Khorassan,_ when there was a loud knock at the
street door. We felt at first some little trepidation, but determined to
maintain our places, and gravely invite the real master to join us.

It was a female