Journey Down the Valley—­The Plague of Grasshoppers—­A Defile—­The Town of Taushanlue—­The Camp of Famine—­We leave the Rhyndacus—­The Base of Olympus—­Primeval Forests—­The Guard-House—­Scenery of the Summit—­Forests of Beech—­Saw-Mills—­Descent of the Mountain—­The View of Olympus—­Morning—­The Land of Harvest—­Aineghioel—­A Showery Ride—­The Plain of Brousa—­The Structure of Olympus—­We reach Brousa—­The Tent is Furled.

“I looked yet farther and higher, and saw in the heavens a silvery cloud that stood fast, and still against the breeze; * * * * and so it was as a sign and a testimony—­almost as a call from the neglected gods, that I now saw and acknowledged the snowy crown of the Mysian Olympus!” Kinglake.

Brousa, July 9, 1852.

From Daghje Kuei, there were two roads to Taushanlue, but the people informed us that the one which led across the mountains was difficult to find, and almost impracticable.  We therefore took the river road, which we found picturesque in the highest degree.  The narrow dell of the Rhyndacus wound through a labyrinth of mountains, sometimes turning at sharp angles between craggy buttresses, covered with forests, and sometimes broadening out into a sweep of valley, where the villagers were working in companies among the grain and poppy fields.  The banks of the stream were lined with oak, willow and sycamore, and forests of pine, descending from the mountains, frequently overhung the road.  We met numbers of peasants, going to and from the fields, and once a company of some twenty women, who, on seeing us, clustered together like a flock of frightened sheep, and threw their mantles over their heads.  They had curiosity enough, however, to peep at us as we went by, and I made them a salutation, which they returned, and then burst into a chorus of hearty laughter.  All this region was ravaged by a plague of grasshoppers.  The earth was black with them in many places, and our horses ploughed up a living spray, as they drove forward through the meadows.  Every spear of grass was destroyed, and the wheat and rye fields were terribly cut up.  We passed a large crag where myriads of starlings had built their nests, and every starling had a grasshopper in his mouth.

We crossed the river, in order to pass a narrow defile, by which it forces its way through the rocky heights of Dumanidj Dagh.  Soon after passing the ridge, a broad and beautiful valley expanded before us.  It was about ten miles in breadth, nearly level, and surrounded by picturesque ranges of wooded mountains.  It was well cultivated, principally in rye and poppies, and more thickly populated than almost any part of Europe.  The tinned tops of the minarets of Taushanlue shone over the top of a hill in front, and there was a large town nearly opposite, on the other bank of the Rhyndacus, and seven small villages scattered about in various directions.  Most of the latter, however, were merely the winter habitations of the