"Old women without any charms to conceal, spare themselves the effort, and multitudes of naked cherubs patter about. Yonder sits a victim to paints and dyes--her hair now white, suddenly becomes beautifully black, and the colour streaming over her body bedecks her for the moment à l'Indienne. But that was all washed off, and they proceeded to rub a sort of mud all over her body, to take out the pains. Then she underwent a process of pommelling, as she was stretched out on the marble floor--poor thing, she had both rheumatism and grey hairs, and was a fit subject for the most special and extra efforts of the attendants of the bath. But the children! such victims, of all ages, from one month upwards, were screaming to the highest pitch of their little voices, as they were unmercifully rubbed and lathered from the crown of their heads to the soles of their feet. 'Rough up and smooth down,' seemed to be no part of the nursery creed of their unmerciful mothers, but rough all ways. Amid these infantile yells and agonies, the girls, young and pretty, walked up and down, pattering with their clogs, and chanting their wild native melodies, as if to put out all other noises, and the great marble halls did their best to re-echo all these floating sounds.
"Was I in Paradise or Pandemonium; were these peris or demons, I could not tell; everything was so bewildering. I was duly rubbed, and washed like the rest--then it was proposed to take lunch. Our party en déshabillé de-pechetemal, which means, crimson faces and napkin drapery, with long and dripping hair, sea nymphs--maids of the mist--seated themselves on the marble platform in the cooler room, and the large round tray made its appearance.
"How delicious the iced sherbet, the little balls of rice covered with delicate vine leaves--the artichokes à l'huile d'olive, the kebab, the helva--in a word, spite of the strange table, strange costume, and general humidity, we all had tremendous appetites.
"Then, came a chibouk to the old lady, little cigarettes to the young maidens--a delicious cup of coffee, and we all raised our voices in a sweet Turkish song, about loves, jessamines, güle and bülbüls.
"Being thus recruited, we were able to undergo the last ablutions, and with a complete investment of pure white and delicately perfumed towels, we proceeded to our first niche in the great dressing-room, and laid us down to dream, or listlessly to watch the innumerable toilettes of the devotees to Venus and Love.