semble those of our hussars. The privates have very comfortable
jackets and trousers of blue cloth with red trimmings; some have
jackets entirely of a red colour. The artillerymen wear red
facings. Their chaussure is pitiable in the extreme: some have
boots, not unfrequently decorated with spurs; others have shoes,
trodden down at heel and terribly tattered; and some even appear in
slippers. All are without stockings, and thus naked feet peer forth
every where. The position of the men with regard to each other is
just as irregular; a little dwarf may frequently be seen posted next
to a giant, a boy of twelve or fourteen years near a grey-headed
veteran, and a negro standing next to a white man.

At this feast a great concourse of people was assembled, and every
window was crowded with muffled female heads.

We had been advised not to be present at this ceremony, as it was
stated to be of a purely religious nature, and it was feared we
should be exposed to annoyance from the fanaticism of the Mussulmen.
I am glad to say, however, that the curiosity of my party was
stronger than their apprehensions. We pushed through every where,
and I had again occasion to feel assured that grievous wrong is
frequently done the good Turks. Not only was there no appearance of
a disposition to annoy us, but we even obtained very good places
without much trouble.

On their Easter days the Greeks have a feast in the great Campo. On
all the three holidays, the hamaks (water-carriers and porters),
after the service is over, march in large numbers to the Campo with
songs and music, with noise and shouting, waving their handkerchiefs
in the air. Arrived at their destination, they divide into
different groups, and proceed to amuse themselves much after the
manner of other nations. A number of tents are erected, where a
great deal of cooking and baking is carried on. Large companies are
sitting on the ground or on the tombstones, eating and drinking in
quiet enjoyment. We see a number of swings laden with men and
children; on this side we hear the squeaking of a bagpipe, on that
the sound of a pipe and drum, uttering such dismal music that the
hearer instinctively puts a finger into each ear. To this music a
real bear's dance is going on. Six or eight fellows stand in a half
circle round the musician, and two leaders of these light-toed
clodhoppers continually wave their handkerchiefs in the air as they
stamp slowly and heavily