bringing the hands together and bowing
the face upon them. This done, we leisurely examined the building, and the
old man was ready enough to satisfy our curiosity. It was a rich and
elegant structure, lighted from the dome. The walls were lined with
brilliant tiles, and had an elaborate cornice, with Arabic inscriptions in
gold. The floor was covered with a carpet, whereon stood eight or ten
ancient coffins, surrounding a larger one which occupied a raised platform
in the centre. They were all of wood, heavily carved, and many of them
entirely covered with gilded inscriptions. These, according to the old
man, were the coffins of the Ottoman Sultans, who had reigned at Brousa
previous to the taking of Constantinople, with some members of their
families. There were four Sultans, among whom were Mahomet I., and a
certain Achmet. Orchan, the founder of the Ottoman dynasty, is buried
somewhere in Brousa, and the great central coffin may have been his.
Francois and I talked entirely in Arabic, and the old man asked: "Who are
these Hadjis?" whereupon F. immediately answered: "They are Effendis from
Baghdad."

We had intended making the ascent of Olympus, but the summit was too
thickly covered with clouds. On the morning of the second day, therefore,
we determined to take up the line of march for Constantinople. The last
scene of our strange, eventful history with the katurgees had just
transpired, by their deserting us, being two hundred piastres in our debt.
They left their khan on the afternoon after our arrival, ostensibly for
the purpose of taking their beasts out to pasture, and were never heard of
more. We let them go, thankful that they had not played the trick sooner.
We engaged fresh horses for Moudania, on the Sea of Marmora, and
dispatched Francois in advance, to procure a caique for Constantinople,
while we waited to have our passports signed. But after waiting an hour,
as there was no appearance of the precious documents, we started the
baggage also, under the charge of a _surroudjee_, and remained alone.
Another hour passed by, and yet another, and the Bey was still occupied in
sleeping off his hunger. Mr. Harrison, in desperation, went to the office,
and after some delay, received the passports with a vise, but not, as we
afterwards discovered, the necessary one.

It was four o'clock by the time we left Brousa. Our horses were stiff,
clumsy pack-beasts; but, by dint of whips and the sharp shovel-stirrups,
we f