runks,
often sixty to eighty feet high, and with boughs disposed in all possible
picturesqueness of form. The cedar frequently showed a solid white bole,
three feet in diameter.

We took a winding footpath, often a mere track, striking across the hills
in a northern direction. Everywhere we met the Turks of the plain, who are
now encamped in the mountains, to tend their flocks through the summer
months. Herds of sheep and goats were scattered over the green
pasture-slopes, and the idle herd-boys basked in the morning sun, playing
lively airs on a reed flute, resembling the Arabic _zumarra_. Here and
there was a woodman, busy at a recently felled tree, and we met several of
the creaking carts of the country, hauling logs. All that we saw had a
pleasant rural air, a smack of primitive and unsophisticated life. From
the higher ridges over which we passed, we could see, far to the east and
west, other ranges of pine-covered mountains, and in the distance the
cloudy lines of loftier chains. The trunks of the pines were nearly all
charred, and many of the smaller trees dead, from the fires which, later
in the year, rage in these forests.

After four hours of varied and most inspiring travel, we reached a
district covered for the most part with oak woods--a more open though
still mountainous region. There was a summer village of Turks scattered
over the nearest slope--probably fifty houses in all, almost perfect
counterparts of Western log-cabins. They were built of pine logs, laid
crosswise, and covered with rough boards. These, as we were told, were the
dwellings of the people who inhabit the village of Khosref Pasha Khan
during the winter. Great numbers of sheep and goats were browsing over the
hills or lying around the doors of the houses. The latter were beautiful
creatures, with heavy, curved horns, and long, white, silky hair, that
entirely hid their eyes. We stopped at a house for water, which the man
brought out in a little cask. He at first proposed giving us _yaourt_, and
his wife suggested _kaimak_ (sweet curds), which we agreed to take, but it
proved to be only boiled milk.

Leaving the village, we took a path leading westward, mounted a long hill,
and again entered the pine forests. Before long, we came to a well-built
country-house, somewhat resembling a Swiss cottage. It was two stories
high, and there was an upper balcony, with cushioned divans, overlooking a
thriving garden-patch and some fruit-trees. Three