and hurry, on her way. One or two children stopped to
stare at us; but we knew experimentally that their untutored fanaticism
was more likely to have a shy at our heads, than to attempt to
understand or direct us. We kept a sharp look-out for some Greek or
Armenian house wherein, for lucre's sake, we might be received in the
first instance: reserving to ourselves the introduction to the Seraph as
a _bonne bouche_. But still we wearied on, and saw no hospice. All was,
shut up, and closed. They were evidently not of the social temperament
that distinguished our Smyrna friends,--no doors were open, no family
parties visible, no suppers spread out. Some two hours passed
away--night fairly descended; and then the place might have passed for a
city of the dead.

The fix was becoming unquestionably awkward, and our mirth, which had
thriven wonderfully on the absurdity of our position, was passing over
to what old ladies call the wrong side of our mouths. Such an incurious,
apathetic set we had never before met. If our expectation had not been
exactly that some bustling Boniface, would have come rushing out to
welcome us to his best parlour, we had at least reckoned on finding some
person who knew the value of money, and the requirements of strangers.
But we were completely nonplused at the actual complexion of affairs,
and I am afraid began to be out of humour with this particular part of
the Sultan's dominions. Still, however, we retained that facetious
satisfaction that every wise man finds at the bottom of a really good
embroglio,--viz., the sense of having concocted an adventure, and the
curiosity of seeing what will come of it. Thus, though appearances were
as if we should have to remain riding about those streets _in
infinitum_, we knew that something or other must turn up; and were only
a little impatient for the denouement.

At last we stumbled on the benevolent stranger who was to help us out of
our difficulty. A man in Christian costume was seen hastening towards us
with the air of one who had heard that his friends were in trouble, and
needed his assistance.

"Bona sera, signori."

How musical did the words sound!

"Oh man," said we, "_per carita_, tell us what good soul of a Greek will
take us into his house this night."

"_Padroni miei_, you are too late to get into any house this night. They
are all gone to bed, and their houses are shut up. You must go to the
Khan."

"Do you know where the Seraph ----