Beginning of Journal: Smyrna, Constantinople, Asia Minor
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Started at five this morning on horseback to Bugia a villa five miles from the city - followed guide thru the crooked narrow streets to the outskirts of Smyrna - saw some few like myself on horseback or rather say on ponies but more on asses - and a well dressed lady accompanied by a gentleman either french or Italian -

Passed the little river Meles by the caravan bridge - winding round the foot of- Mount Pagus with its ruined Acropolis - passed the remains of an immense wall - the road nothing more than a mule path - and very irregular, ascended a rising ground from whence is a fine view of Smyrna and its Gardens - situated a few miles from the bottom of the Buq mountains on all sides - some of which are green and beautiful, with trees to the top - looking to the interior, the country is pleasantly diversified with hill and dale - the ripe grain (for it is now harvest time) contrasts beautifully with the vivid green of the fig and almond trees -

Over the Meles are the lofty arches of an acqueduct - double-and resembling the roman acqueduct at the Pont du Gar near Nidmes or the more modern one at Spoleto in the papal dominions - how this could convey water to Smyrna is difficult to see as it is behind the mountains - perhaps ancient Smyrna was differently situated from the present one -

Soon came to Bugia which is composed mostly of the country seats of the European resident merchants of the city — and very pleasant retired -places they are - situated in gardens surrounded by high walls - there is a greek church and School - the landlord of the pension suite married his wife here - we called at the mother's a small house, the door shaded by vines - on which the green grapes were hanging luxuriantly - and pretty little flower gardens - there were some smiling little faces - but could not say a word to them more than smile again and take the flowers offered to me - a sad thing not to be able to say a word in the language of the country -

As the sun was getting warm and not wishing to remain at Bugia all day hurried back to the city — by the high or principal road - but a poor excuse for a road - impassable for a wheel carriage of which however there are none - met several families going out - all on gaily equipped asses -

In the afternoon went to the outskirts of the upper or turkish town - a number of turks were assembled under the porch of an illbuilt wooden construction - in which was to be performed the religious ceremony we had come to witness - the room itself looked as much like a poor plain negro church without a pulpit as anything I can think of - with gallery all round - one side of which was latticed and entered by another door - this was for the turkish women - but of them I could see nothing - before the ceremony the men sat crosslegged smoking - except such as were washing hands, feet and face at the fountain close by - among the company was a facetious old turk - who by his jokes made the rest merry - without knowing a word of what was said - soon observed the subject of their merriment - there were some pale faced sleek looking youths - who were evidently the objects of the old mans vicious propensities - and were little abashed by the old mans jokes and the mirth of the others - as stroking his hand and such familiarities plainly indicated -

This was shortly interrupted by the approach of a grave looking personage in a green turban who taking off his shoes entered the temple and ceremonies by prayers and repeated prostrations - he was afterwards joined by others, when the spectators took their places in the galleries - the prayers were at first in a low tone and prostrations moderate - increasing in loudness and violence - this continued near half an hour when about fifty got on their feet - some five or six of the priests remained seated chanting in a loud monotonous tone - those standing up repeated with more or less violence of noise and gesture - untill at last they appeared to be seized with a sort of frenzy - bowing the body from side to side and breathing or rather groaning with the utmost violence at last streaming with perspiration for the weather was hot they became exhausted except some three or four who I presume more interested than the rest held out a little longer jumping and yelling allah like madmen - & the ceremony finished with the din of symbals & tambourines - these are the sect of Mohammedans called Dancing Dervishes - and are held in great respect by all good musselmans -

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