. The day was perfect, and rather than give up our trip we
determined to go by ourselves, trusting that the success which had
attended similar expeditions without a _commissionnaire_ would not
desert us on this occasion. The sail up on the steamer was charming.
There are many villages on the shores of the Bosphorus, and between
them are scattered palaces and summer residences, the latter often
reminding us of Venetian houses, built directly on the shore with steps
down to the water, and caiques moored at the doors, as the gondolas are
in Venice. The houses are surrounded by beautiful gardens, with a
profusion of flowers blooming on the very edge of the shore, their gay
colors reflected in the waves beneath.

We learned from the captain of the steamer that Giant Mountain was two
and a half miles from the village, with no very well-defined road
leading to it; so on landing at Bey Kos we made inquiries for a guide,
and this time were successful. Horses were also forthcoming, but no
side-saddle. I respectfully declined to follow the example of my Turkish
sisters and mount a gentleman's saddle; neither was I anxious to ride my
Arab steed bareback, so we concluded to try a cow-carriage, and
despatched our guide to hire the only one the place afforded. This
stylish establishment was not to be had; so, having wasted half an hour
in trying to find some conveyance, we gave it up and started on foot;
and were glad afterward that we did so. The road was shaded to the base
of the mountain, and led through a beautiful valley, the fields covered
with wild-flowers. I have never seen such masses of color--an acre
perhaps of bright yellow, perfectly dazzling in the sunlight, then as
large a mass of purple, next to that an immense patch of white daisies,
so thick they looked like snow. The effect of these gay masses, with
intervals of green grass and grain, was very gorgeous. We passed two of
the sultan's palaces, one built in Swiss style. The ascent of Giant
Mountain from the inland side is gradual, while it descends very
abruptly on the water-side. On the top of the mountain are the ruins of
the church of St. Pantaleon, built by Justinian, also a mosque and the
tomb of Joshua: so the Turks affirm. From a rocky platform just below
the mosque there is a magnificent view. Toward the north you look off on
the Black Sea and the old fortress of Riva, which commands the entrance
to the Bosphorus. In front and to the south winds the beautiful
B