the mosque, and as we ascended we were rewarded by the most charming view
of the city and the grand plain. Konia lay at our feet--a wide, straggling
array of low mud dwellings, dotted all over with patches of garden
verdure, while its three superb mosques, with the many smaller tombs and
places of worship, appeared like buildings left from some former and more
magnificent capital. Outside of this circle ran a belt of garden land,
adorned with groves and long lines of fruit trees; still further, the
plain, a sea of faded green, flecked with the softest cloud-shadows, and
beyond all, the beautiful outlines and dreamy tints of the different
mountain chains. It was in every respect a lovely landscape, and the city
is unworthy such surroundings. The sky, which in this region is of a pale,
soft, delicious blue, was dotted with scattered fleeces of white clouds,
and there was an exquisite play of light and shade over the hills.

There were half a dozen men and boys about the door, amusing themselves
with bursting percussion caps on the stone. They addressed us as
"_hadji_!" (pilgrims), begging for more caps. I told them I was not a
Turk, but an Arab, which they believed at once, and requested me to enter
the mosque. The interior had a remarkably fine effect. It was a maze of
arches, supported by columns of polished black marble, forty in number. In
form it was nearly square, and covered with a flat, wooden roof. The floor
was covered with a carpet, whereon several persons were lying at full
length, while an old man, seated in one of the most remote corners, was
reading in a loud, solemn voice. It is a peculiar structure, which I
should be glad to examine more in detail.

Not far from this eminence is a remarkable leaning minaret, more than a
hundred feet in height, while in diameter it cannot be more than fifteen
feet. In design it is light and elegant, and the effect is not injured by
its deviation from the perpendicular, which I should judge to be about six
feet. From the mosque we walked over the mounds of old Iconium to the
eastern wall, passing another mosque, wholly in ruin, but which must have
once been more splendid than any now standing. The portal is the richest
specimen of Saracenic sculpture I have ever seen: a very labyrinth of
intricate ornaments. The artist must have seen the great portal of the
Temple of the Sun at Baalbec. The minarets have tumbled down, the roof has
fallen in, but the walls are still covered w