he lame horse at Konia and get a better one. We have
lost all confidence in the old villain's promises, but the poor beasts
shall not suffer for his delinquencies.

Our tent is in a charming spot, and, from without, makes a picture to be
remembered. The yellow illumination from within strikes on the under sides
of the walnut boughs, while the moonlight silvers them from above. Beyond
gardens where the nightingales are singing, the tall minaret of Eregli
stands revealed in the vapory glow. The night is too sweet and balmy for
sleep, and yet I must close my eyes upon it, for the hot plains of
Karamania await us to-morrow.

Chapter XIX.

The Plains of Karamania.

The Plains of Karamania--Afternoon Heat--A Well--Volcanic
Phenomena--Kara-bounar--A Grand Ruined Khan--Moonlight Picture--A
Landscape of the Plains-Mirages--A Short Interview--The Village of
Ismil---Third Day on the Plains--Approach to Konia.

"A weary waste, expanding to the skies."--Goldsmith.

Konia, Capital of Karamania, _Friday, June_ 25, 1854.

Francois awoke us at the break of day, at Eregli, as we had a journey of
twelve hours before us. Passing through the town, we traversed a narrow
belt of garden and orchard land, and entered the great plain of Karamania.
Our road led at first northward towards a range called Karadja Dagh, and
then skirted its base westward. After three hours' travel we passed a
village of neat, whitewashed houses, which were entirely deserted, all the
inhabitants having gone off to the mountains. There were some herds
scattered over the plain, near the village. As the day wore on, the wind,
which had been chill in the morning, ceased, and the air became hot and
sultry. The glare from the white soil was so painful that I was obliged to
close my eyes, and so ran a continual risk of falling asleep and tumbling
from my horse. Thus, drowsy and half unconscious of my whereabouts, I rode
on in the heat and arid silence of the plain until noon, when we reached
a well. It was a shaft, sunk about thirty feet deep, with a long, sloping
gallery slanting off to the surface. The well was nearly dry, but by
descending the gallery we obtained a sufficient supply of cold, pure
water. We breakfasted in the shaded doorway, sharing our provisions with a
Turcoman boy, who was accompanying his father to Eregli with a load of
salt.

Our road now crossed a long, barren pass, between two parts of Karadja
Dagh. Near the northern s