e olive and the
vine.

Such was that region, once celebrated for its natural advantages, for
its arts, its splendour, as well as for its gifts of grace; and the
misery and degradation which are at present imprinted on the very face
of the soil are the emblems of that worse ruin which has overtaken the
souls of its children. I have already referred to the journal of Dr.
Chandler, who saw it, even in its western coast, overrun by the hideous
tents of the Turcomans. Another traveller of late years[49] tells us of
that ancient Bithynia, which runs along the Black Sea, a beautiful and
romantic country, intersected with lofty mountains and fertile valleys,
and abounding in rivers and forests. The luxuriance of the pastures, he
says, and the richness of the woods, often reminded him of an English
gentleman's park. Such is it as nature has furnished it for the benefit
of man; but he found its forests covered with straggling Turcomans and
numerous flocks of goats. As he was passing through Phrygia, the
inhabitants smiled, when he asked for ruins, assuring him that the whole
country was overspread with them. There too again he found a great part
of its face covered with the roving Turcomans, "a boisterous and
ignorant race, though much more honourable and hospitable," he adds,
"than the inhabitants of the towns." Mr. Alison tells us that when the
English fleet, in 1801, was stationed on the southern coast, some
sailors accidentally set fire to a thick wood, and the space thus left
bare was studded all along with the ruins of temples and palaces.

A still more recent traveller[50] corroborates this testimony. Striking
inland from Smyrna, he found "the scenery extremely beautiful, and the
land," he continues, "which is always rich, would be valuable, if
sufficiently cultivated, but it is much neglected." In another part of
the country, he "rode for at least three miles through a ruined city,
which was one pile of temples, theatres, and buildings, vying with each
other in splendour." Now here, you will observe, I am not finding fault
with the mere circumstance that the scenes of ancient grandeur should
abound in ruins. Buildings will decay; old buildings will not answer new
uses; there are ruins enough in Europe; but the force of the argument
lies in this, that in these countries there are ruins and nothing else;
that the old is gone, and has not been replaced by the new. So was it
about Smyrna; and so too about Sardis: "Its situat