Her dark but prettily-rounded arm was decked with a brace-
let of silver pieces; and just between two of the finest eyes
I ever saw, was suspended, by a yellow thread, one of the
small gold coins of Constantinople. Her softly moulded bust
was entirely bare, and might have served for the model of
a youthful Hebe.

735.

who, not remarking that I was somewhat in the rear of my companions, looked after them a moment, and then, fastening back the dingy folds by a string, returned to her employment of swinging an infant in a small wicker hammock, suspended in the centre of the tent. Her dark but prettilyrounded arm was decked with a bracelet of silver pieces; and just between two of the finest eyes I ever saw, was suspended, by a yellow thread, one of the small gold coins of Constantinople. Her softly moulded bust was entirely bare, and might have served for the model of a youthful Hebe. A girdle around her waist sustained loosely a long pair of full Turkish trowsers, of the colour and fashion usually worn by women in the East, and, caught over her hip, hung suspended by its fringe the truant shawl that had been suffered to fall from her shoulders and expose her guarded beauty. I stood admiring her a full minute, before I observed a middle-aged woman in the opposite corner, who, bending over her work, was fortunately as late in observing my intrusive presence. As I advanced half a step, however, my shadow fell into the tent, and, starting with surprise, she rose and dropped the curtain.

We re-mounted, and I rode on, thinking of the vision of loveliness I was leaving in that wild dell. We travel a great way to see hills and rivers, thought I, but, after all, a human being is a more interesting object than a mountain. I shall remember the little gipsy of Hadjilar long after I have forgotten Hermus and Sipylus.

Our road dwindled to a mere bridle-path as we advanced, and the scenery grew wild and barren. The horses were all sad stumblers, and the uneven rocks gave them every apology for coming down whenever they could forget the spur; and so we entered the broad and green valley of Yackerhem, (I write it as I heard it pronounced,) and drew up at the door of a small hovel, serving the double purpose of a café and a guard-house.

A Turkish officer of the old régime, turbaned and crosslegged, and armed with pistols and ataghan, sat smoking on one side the brazier of coals, and the cafejee exercised his small vocation on the other. Before the door, a raised platform of green sward, and a marble slab, facing toward Mecca, indicated the place for prayer; and a dashing rider