I made acquaintance of a pleasant Russian, Monsieur Marschall, and with him crossed the island to see the antiquities--first of the ancient city and then of the Temple of Juno, lying three-quarters of an hour to the eastward of it. There is only one column of it remaining, but that one very finely cut and of beautiful marble. A few years ago, I understand, there were still many standing; but some were blown up for the sake of the metal rivets, and others knocked over by the Turkish men of war, who, as they were very white, used them as a target for gunnery practice. We returned to the village of Samos for the night, and lodged with the bishop, who was more hospitable than Greeks generally are. He was a man of some ingenuity and amusing, but very ignorant and superstitious.
We went by Bathi to Geronta and across the Bogas to Changlu on the mainland--rode to Kelibesh over the top of range of hills commanding the valley of the Meander--and the lake of Myus--and on to Sansun Kalesi (Priene), which I was very glad to see. It is an exceedingly fine site. Unfortunately it rained and blew so violently that I could not do much; but if one could stay and dig in the temple, I dare say one might find a treasure of statues, for it remains exactly as it fell.
Two days after, we set out, riding along the foot of Mount Titanus, in frequent danger of being bogged in the low new-made ground of the Meander, which near the sea is covered with sedge and rushes inhabited by numberless waterfowl. The scenery was often very fine. We reached the corn warehouses at Canna after midday, and found there my Sardinian corn-merchant friend from Guzul Hissar. He was trying to make up a cargo, and at the moment was full of the wrongs suffered by merchants in this country. A caravan of fifteen camels he was expecting had been stopped by an aga, the corn they carried unloaded and left by the road, while the camels were sent away to carry cotton into the interior.
Here we hired a boat; but, hearing firing in the Bogas, which we could only attribute to a pirate, we were not without some qualms at starting. With this in our heads, when we saw a large caique making directly towards us, we were naturally enough alarmed and made for the mouth of the Meander, and there remained till the bark came up and proved itself to be only a fishing caique. Setting forward again with a very strong wind, we reached the port of Geronta after dark. The boatman mistook the entrance and very nearly ran us on to a rock some distance from the shore, upon which he got into a fright and lost all presence of mind. The wind, as I said, being very high, the position was so serious that Marschall and I took the management of the bark, and giving the man a cuff sent him forward to look out for the port. In this fashion we found it and got in. Even then we were not well off, for the place was perfectly solitary, and we had no mind to remain all night in the boat. It grew extremely dark, and it was an hour and a half before we could find the village. On the way to it, we passed the massive remains of the Temple of Apollo Didymæus, and as they loomed through the darkness they looked very grand--grander than I thought them next morning by daylight. The village of Geronta is only about thirty years old and is inhabited entirely by Albanian and Greek immigrants who seem fairly prosperous. The pasha, Elis Oglu, like his neighbour Karasman Oglu, is a great patron of Greeks. We set sail at night, but had to put back, after a hard night, to a port close to Geronta and wait there three days till the weather improved.