leaving a deposit by which they are choked up, and over which they again flow, have raised the whole surface of the ground fifteen or twenty feet, forming masses of this shelly stone in ridges, which impede the paths, as well as conceal and render it difficult to trace out the foundations of buildings. The deposit has the appearance of a salt, but it is tasteless, and to the touch is like the shell of the cuttle-fish. These streams have flowed on for ages, and the hills are coated over with their deposit of a filmy semitransparent appearance, looking like half-melted snow suddenly frozen*.

The town stands upon the high cliff, over which these streams fall in cascades; it commands a fine view of the valley, and has many of the picturesque advantages which would be sought in a modern watering-place; the mountains rise at the back, and wooded ravines offer shade for summer rambles. The ruins are crowded and extensive, and here again are some remains unaccountable from their immense proportions: in this place they might be taken to have been baths, but I still incline to the idea that they were palaces. The theatre has been richly ornamented, and many of the cornices so much as to impair their simplicity and beauty; these, together with most of the groups of figures, bear traces of an age more devoted to luxury than pure taste. The inscriptions found here have been copied by others. The stone used in building is the conglomerate of the neighbourhood.

A singular effect is seen upon the square pillars of a colonnade standing on each side of a court-yard of the palace; they are formed of chips of marble of all sizes,

* Appearances exactly like those here described present themselves at the baths of San Filippo in Tuscany. The thermal waters of Hierapolis are mentioned by numerous ancient authors. It appears that the ancient inhabitants erected fences around their fields and gardens merely by leading the hot water in channels so as to deposit the incrustation in the proper lines of direction.

held together by a matrix of reddish stone, similar to what we call scagliola. Time or an earthquake has warped them, and they now stand in curves, bulging out in various directions, without any fracture. A kind of tomb is found here which I have not observed elsewhere, a distinct temple or house, probably a place of mourning for the friends of the deceased interred beneath. These tombs are numerous on each side of the town. Buildings such as these may have been referred to when, in the time of our Saviour, persons are spoken of as dwelling among the tombs.

Descending from the ruins we proceeded across the plain towards the valley of the Mæander; and after we had ridden about twelve miles, night coming on, we pitched our tent.

I have mentioned that we killed a vulture this morning at Laodiceia. It was shot at about nine o'clock, and at the time was washing itself in a stream after its hearty meal upon the dead camel. It was wounded in the head and neck, and dropped immediately; but upon taking it up, its talons closed on the hand of my servant, making him cry out with pain. He placed it on the ground, and I stood with my whole weight upon its back, pressing the breastbone against the rock, when its eye gradually closed, its hold relaxed, and to all appearance life became extinct. It was then packed up in my leather hood, and strapped behind the saddle. The day was oppressively hot, for we trod upon our shadows as we rode across the plain. Until this evening (at eleven o'clock) the vulture remained tightly bound behind the saddle. My servant, on unpacking, threw the bundle containing it into the tent, while he prepared boiling water for cleaning and skinning it. Intending to examine this noble bird more carefully, I untied the package, and what was my surprise to see it raise its head and fix its keen eye upon me! I immediately placed my feet upon its back, holding by the top of the tent, and leaning all my weight

upon it; but with a desperate struggle it spread out its wings, which reached across the tent, and by beating them attempted to throw me off. My shouts soon brought Demetrius, who at length killed it by blows upon the head with the butt end of his gun. My ignorance of the extreme tenacity of life of this bird must exculpate me from the charge of cruelty.

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CHAPTER XII.

LYDIA.

ANEGHOOL.-PHILADELPHIA. OPIUM-GATHERING.-SARDIS.-ITS REMAINS.CAVALCADES OF TRAVELLERS.CAMELS.- -CASSABA. -RETURN TO SMYRNA. RETROSPECT. THE PEOPLE. CLIMATE.· SCENERY.

YESTERDAY, May the 8th, we crossed at a scarcely fordable place the river Lycus, which brings down a white milky water, apparently from a limy country. We now had to cross the Mæander, near the ruins of the ancient Tripolis, and gradually ascended a valley or ravine, leaving the posttown of Bulladán on the left. After passing a picturesque series of hills and deep rocky beds of small rivers, we entered the valley formed by the Cagamus, in which stands Philadelphia.

We slept at Aneghoól, distant from Hierapolis about fifty miles, and this morning proceeded sixteen miles further to Philadelphia. The soil in the valley is extremely poor, but by irrigation crops of barley are obtained.

A new feature has appeared in the landscape; the fields of opium are all in bloom, forming a very beautiful object; but these flowers are not so gay as our garden poppies. They are all luxuriant plants of the single poppy, three feet high, their colours being white, lilac, and purple, in nearly

equal proportions. The business of collecting the opium has just commenced. The green seed-pod is wounded or scratched with a delicate point, when the milky sap exudes; this is afterwards collected by scraping, and a purifying process is all that is then required to produce the opium fit for the market. The work is chiefly done by women, a delicate hand being required throughout the process; and as the whole harvest may be destroyed by a shower, the crop is a precarious one. The entire produce is monopolized by the Government at a fixed price, and the sale of opium is not allowed in any part of the country.

Of the ancient city of Philadelphia but little remains; its walls are still standing, inclosing several hills, upon the sides of which stood the town, but they are fallen into ruins. The walls are of unhewn stone, massed and cemented together with fragments of old buildings; some immense remains of buildings, huge square stone pillars, supporting brick arches, are also standing, and are called the ruins of the Christian church. All the remains which have been pointed out to me as ruins of Christian churches appear to have been vast temples, perhaps erected by imperial command, and dedicated to nominal Christianity, but showing, in the niches and brackets for statues and architectural ornaments, traces of heathen superstition.

Descending the valley, which widened as it joined that of the Hermus, after a ride of thirty-six miles we arrived at Sart, the ancient Sardis, the last of the Seven Churches that I had yet to see. Its situation is very beautiful, but the country over which it looks is now almost deserted, and the valley is become a swamp. Its little rivers of clear water, after turning a mill or two, serve only to flood instead of draining and beautifying the country. On the principal of these streams, the Pactolus, at the distance of a mile from the city, stand the remains of a colossal temple, the proportions of which resemble those of Agrigentum; but it

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