#Oak Ridge Cemetery
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Megalithic-esque mausoleum.
Oak Ridge Cemetery. Springfield, Illinois.
#oak ridge cemetery#springfield#megalithic#illinois#mausoleum#autumn#autumn leaves#tomb#cemetery#original photography#photography#taphophile#taphophilia#lensblr#photographers on tumblr#tombs#wanderingjana
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Upon occasion a body must be exhumed or done so by accident. Some exhumations can reveal unusual finds and many famous people who were exhumed are documented by curious witnesses. There is quite a list of famous people who were exhumed for one reason or another. Some of them include:
Daniel Boone – He was buried in Missouri but when moved to Kentucky, they thought they might have the wrong body.
John Wilkes Booth – His body was warehoused until his family finally put him to rest in their area.
Al Capone – His body was moved.
Karen Carpenter – In Karen’s case, they wanted to move her to a new location.
Christopher Columbus – His body had been moved around and so there was some question about whether the remains were his or possibly mixed with another person.
Marie Curie – Her body was exhumed and moved to be put in a place of honor.
Sammy Davis Jr. – Sammy died almost bankrupt so his wife actually had him exhumed to get the 70,000 dollars worth of jewelry he was buried with.
Adolf Hitler – In 1970, remains believed to be his were turned over for cremation.
Benny Hill – Sadly, this beloved comedian was the victim of grave robbery.
Abraham Lincoln – Several people thought to try and steal his body. Eventually, they encased him in concrete.
Lee Harvey Oswald – With the permission of Oswald’s widow, Eddowes had the body exhumed in 1981 and dental records confirmed the man was not a Russian body double, but Oswald himself.
Elvis Presley – Buried in Memphis, he was moved because someone tried to steal his body. He was placed at Graceland
Jesse James – The infamous Wild West outlaw may have died in 1882, but his legend lived on as did persistent rumors that James faked his own death. In 1995, the James family requested the exhumation of their ancestor’s corpse from a Kearney, Missouri cemetery and DNA tests confirmed the remains were indeed those of the outlaw.
Eva Peron – Evita’s body was exhumed and moved to Madrid, where her husband lived in exile. Finally in 1974, her remains were returned to Buenos Aires and buried in a fortified crypt in La Recoleta Cemetery.
Abraham Lincoln – In 1876 a gang of Chicago counterfeiters hatched a scheme to snatch the slain president’s body from his tomb in Oak Ridge Cemetery in Springfield, Illinois, and hold the corpse for a ransom of $200,000 and the release of their best engraver from prison. After law enforcement officials thwarted the grave robbers in the middle of the crime, Lincoln’s body was quickly moved to various unmarked graves until it was eventually encased in a steel cage and entombed under 10 feet of concrete in the same Springfield cemetery in 1901.
Zachary Taylor – In 1991, Taylor became the first president to have his remains exhumed, and tests conclusively showed that he was not assassinated by poison.
Oliver Cromwell – King Charles II exhumed Cromwell’s body on the twelfth anniversary of his father’s execution and in retribution for the regicide staged an execution of his own.
Simon Bolivar – Twelve years after his death, Bolivar’s remains were exhumed from Santa Marta’s cathedral and transferred to Caracas, Venezuela. The testing by forensic specialists proved inconclusive as to the cause of Bolivar’s death.
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Lincoln's Tomb at Oak Ridge Cemetery. 158 years ago this morning, the 16th President of the United States passed away from a bullet wound inflicted by the actor John Wilkes Booth.
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On May 4, 1865, President Abraham Lincoln is finally laid to rest in his hometown of Springfield, Illinois. Lincoln’s funeral procession passed through 180 cities and 7 towns, before he reached his final destination to Oak Ridge Cemetery, with his son Willie buried beside him.
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Oak Ridge Cemetery, Southbridge, MA
A Weary Cherub, Splattered With Freshly Mowed Grass Clippings, Rests His Elbows on a Crystal Ball at Oak Ridge Cemetery in Southbridge, MA (…Oak Ridge Cemetery, Southbridge, MA
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Kuršių Nerija🇱🇹👸🏻
Lithuania holidays
Immersed in sea, snow, sand and silence: a winter break in Lithuania
A 60-mile sandbar dotted with forests and icy lagoons, the Curonian Spit’s buried villages, elk and elemental beauty attracted Sartre and De Beauvoir
Nick Hunt
Mon 20 Feb 2023 02.00 EST
Small icebergs bob on the waves. The beach is grey and frozen. To the north are the Dead Dunes, and to the south – past the Valley of Death – is the forested peninsula. Squeezed between a freshwater lagoon and the roaring Baltic Sea, the shifting sand beneath my feet has swallowed villages, occasionally spitting out bones from abandoned cemeteries. It is, perhaps, an unlikely destination for a winter holiday.
But everything about Lithuania’s Curonian Spit is unlikely, and this is the secret of its stark, unreal beauty. A 61-mile-long sandbar that arcs alongside the Baltic coast, in Lithuania, its unique ecology has gained it Unesco world heritage site status. A landmass formed from enormous dunes that rose from the sea 5,000 years ago – legend says they were created by a giantess called Neringa – the spit became densely forested with birch, oak and pine.
Over the centuries it was settled by pagan Balts who traded in the amber on its coast – the start of the ancient Amber Route that stretched to the Mediterranean – and then by Prussians & Lithuanians. Today there are elk and boar in its forests, miles of unspoiled white sand beaches, and the fossilised resin of millions-of-years-old pines can still be found along its shore, translucent pebbles that glow like honey when the light shines through. Most visitors come in summer but we arrive in January, drawn by the thought of winter skies, snow-covered sand and silence.
The journey is possible by public transport, but we hire a car in Vilnius and drive for three and a half hours to reach the port of Klaipėda, where a clanking vehicle ferry transports us across the northern end of the Curonian Lagoon. From there, the spit’s only road leads south through dense forest into the Curonian Spit national park. At the village of Juodkrante we stop to climb the Hill of Witches, once a pagan pilgrimage site and now covered with wooden statues depicting the giantess Neringa and other figures from Lithuanian folklore. Appropriately for Europe’s pagan country there’s a distinctively animist flavour to the folk culture here. It only seems natural that the land be alive.
It is: in the 18th century, people started felling the forests that had kept the dunes in place, and mountains of sand began migrating. Despite efforts to hold them back they engulfed entire villages, burying 14 settlements over the next hundred years. The rampaging dunes were only halted when a German astronomer called Johann Daniel Titius proposed the building of a 60-mile-long sand ridge, along with a dedicated reforestation campaign.
Ice clunks against the shore, the wind whistles in the pines, and there is an atmosphere of deep hibernation
This early ecological restoration project worked only too well: now the dunes have been tamed. Visitors are warned that a single footstep can dislodge tonnes of sand, and the giant Parnidis Dune, the spit’s most iconic feature, has lost 10 metres of its height in the past three decades. Boardwalks protect the most popular dunes from traipsing human feet, and there are “strict reserves” where people cannot enter. Throughout our stay I am struck by the delicate balance between humans and nature, on this slender thread of sand between salt and fresh water.
We make our base in the village of Nida. Modern apartments lie inland but the seafront is lined with wooden fishermen’s cottages painted oxide red, with carved gables jutting up like the dragons on Viking longboats. Once an artist colony – Thomas Mann had a summer house here, and Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir were prominent visitors – it transforms into a holiday resort in warmer months, when thousands of Polish and German tourists come to swim and sunbathe.
In winter it’s practically deserted, but that suits us fine. Ice clunks against the shore, the wind whistles in the pines, and there is an atmosphere of deep hibernation. In a coastal meadow called the Valley of Silence we take a seat on Neringa’s Chair – an artist’s installation carved from giant blocks of wood – to watch the ice in the lagoon and listen to the sound of nothing.
Neringa's chair🇱🇹👸🏻
The following day we climb the steps to the summit of Parnidis, 52 metres high and still a “drifting dune” that moves between 0.5 and 10 metres a year. Topped by the imposing obelisk of a granite sundial carved with runes, a monument to Baltic mythology, it affords a sweeping view over sand, sea and sky. From here, a marked walking trail leads on a three-hour loop along the edge of the frozen desert – we catch a glimpse of a sea otter on the icy shore below – through the ominously named Valley of Death and along the boundary of the Grobstas Strict nature reserve, which forms a protected no man’s land between Lithuanian territory.
Then a path through pine forest takes us to the Baltic Sea, an abstract painting of slate grey, deep blue and flecks of white. We strike amber on this beach, filling our pockets with prehistoric resin that ranges in colour from the palest honey to opal and magma red, and return to the guesthouse with the sea still roaring in our ears. Amber washes up on these beaches every winter.
Half a dozen villages lie buried somewhere under our feet, commemorated by an installation of six stark wooden crosses
A short drive to the north is another reserve called the Dead Dunes, a further testament to the awesome power of sand. Accessible via a series of boardwalks – signs warn against stepping elsewhere to protect the delicate ecology – this is the most eerily beautiful place we’ve seen so far. Half a dozen villages lie buried somewhere under our feet, commemorated by an installation of six stark wooden crosses. The prints of foxes, deer and birds stipple the sand in all directions, a reminder that this seeming desert is a haven for wildlife, and far away are the dark bulks of elk grazing on the beachgrass.
• I end the day with something I’ve been steeling myself for all week: a breathless plunge in the lagoon, wading through the slush-ice. Ten seconds is all I can take, and when I emerge my hands and feet have turned an alarming shade of purple. Luckily, Lithuanian cuisine is the very definition of restorative: cheese soup, potato pancakes, dumplings in every shape and size, cabbage-wrapped pork, salted herring, and the amazing gyrbu sriuba, which is wild mushroom soup served in a bowl made of rye bread. The only green vegetable we see during our stay is a gherkin, but you don’t come to the Baltic coast for greenery in winter.
If you come for anything it’s for sea, snow, sand and silence. After immersion in all these things, the roar of traffic on the mainland in the industrial port of Klaipėda comes as a shock. But on our drive back to the ferry, we had a last sighting of two elk – much closer than the ones before – lolloping between the trees that anchor the drifting dunes in place. The vision stays with me for a long time. Days later, I find flecks of amber in my pocket.
The bus from Vilnius to Nida costs around €20, or cars can be hired from Vilnius train station (we used TopRent). The car ferry from Klaipeda to the Curonian Spit costs €16 return. Accommodation in Apartamentai Niden from €58 per night
I hope you appreciated this article.
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OBIT: Robin Lynn Weiss
OBIT: Robin Lynn Weiss
Robin Lynn Weiss age 59 of Nashua, IA, passed away peacefully Friday, December 8, 2023, at his home surrounded by family.
Funeral service will be held 11:00 a.m. Thursday, December 14, 2023 at Clover Ridge Event Center (2526 Hwy 218, Charles City
, IA 50616) with Rev. Darin Cerwinske presiding. Interment will be held at a later date at Oak Hill Cemetery in Nashua. Steve Sudol, Tim Fisher, Sam…
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AF-805: Exploring the Lincoln Tomb
The Lincoln Tomb, located in Oak Ridge Cemetery in Springfield, Illinois, serves as a lasting memorial to one of America's most revered presidents, Abraham Lincoln. Designed by Larkin G. Mead Jr., this magnificent structure stands as a symbol of the nation's gratitude and remembrance for Lincoln's leadership during a critical period in American history. In this article, we will explore the fascinating history, architecture, and significance of the Lincoln Tomb, shedding light on its construction, the architects involved, the statues adorning its premises, and the reasons behind the multiple relocations of Lincoln's remains.
https://www.ancestralfindings.com/
Check out this episode!
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Forest Walk For Mental Health/Triggers
I wanted to make a list of ptsd triggers/random things that put me on edge
Angry yelling
medical antiseptic
hospitals/medical settings
People coming too close to my back side
being pinned down
Feeling like I can’t leave a place
confined spaces especially when there’s one or more people in the room with me
groups of rowdy boys make me nervous and tense
not being able to hear/see/smell the area around me
loud unexpected noises
Pain pills (because past suicide attempt)
Being in public/fear around people
I’ll update this list as I find new things that trigger me.
WALKS:
@Columbia Forest (off Meadowsweet, White Birch Ave, etc.)
@Columbia Forest by Barb’s, end of Columbia Forest BLVD.
@Monarch Woods
@Galt, far side along river
@Huron Woods
@Wilson Ave., woods
@Laurel Creek
@Bechtel Park Natural Area
@Breslau trails, park
@Mill Run Trail off Beaver Creek
@Doon, past Landon Hall (cliff)
@Steckle Woods off Bleams
@Riverside Park Cambridge
@Trail by Blair, River (Bean Orsten Park)
@Idlewood
@Strasburg Creek Park off Rush Meadow Crescent
@off River Ridge by John
@Homer Watson Park
@end off Ottawa near Misty and Enzo
@old oak train behind St. Jacobs
@The Hydrocut off far end Glasgow
@upper Breslau
@RIM/old farmstead
@Health Valley Trail off University
@Activa & Copper Leaf
@Clair Lake
@kelso
@mount nemo
@Lakeside, both sides off Greenbrook
@Tilt’s Bush
@Walker’s Woods, New Hamburg
@Vista Hills Park and Rock Elm Park
@Snyder’s Flats
@Doon Presbyterian Cemetery
@Strasburg Woods
@Crown land trail
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Pisgah Christian Church
Pisgah Ridge Rd. Northwest
Ripley, OH
The Pisgah Christian Church is a house of worship for a historic Church of Christ located outside of Ripley in rural Union Township, Brown County, Ohio. Constructed in the 1850s for a quarter-century-old congregation, it has been designated a historic site.
The earliest settlers in the vicinity of Pisgah Ridge arrived during the territorial days, shortly before 1800. In 1810, the first Church of Christ in Brown County was founded along Eagle Creek, and the group that became Pisgah Christian Church was founded in 1824; it was one of five in the county founded between 1818 and 1826. The founding preacher, Elder Matthew Garner, remained active in the area; he formally organized Pisgah in 1829, and he participated in the establishment of another Church of Christ in the nearby village of Ripley in the 1840s. A native of Rensselaer County, New York, ten-year-old Gardner had moved with his family to present-day Brown County in 1800. He became a preacher with the Church of Christ in 1812, was ordained in 1818, and almost immediately began starting churches in southwestern Ohio. At the close of his life, he claimed to have begun twenty-two congregations and estimated that his preaching had seen more than six thousand conversions.
Pisgah is a brick building with a foundation of limestone, a tin roof, and additional elements of wood and stone. An arched main entrance is the only opening in the gable-front facade, while four rectangular windows are placed in the single-story side. A small belfry sits atop the roof above the main entrance, while a partial pediment creates the gable. Trees are scattered around the church property. The overall structure is typical of vernacular buildings of the period, including the slight influence of adapted Greek Revival elements such as the pediment. Pisgah's first building was a log structure on the same property as the present building, and the present building was erected in 1854. Despite the passage of more than a century and a half, it has experienced almost no changes; no other nineteenth-century church in Brown County retains a comparable degree of integrity. Modernizations such as the installation of plumbing and electricity have never been performed at Pisgah, and the immediate environment remains in use as a quiet rural farming area.
On November 21, 1980, Pisgah Christian Church was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, qualifying because of its historically significant architecture. It is one of five Union Township locations on the Register, along with the Burgett House and Barn on White Road, the Henry Martin Farm and the Stonehurst (Ripley, Ohio) farmstead on U.S. Route 68, and Red Oak Presbyterian Church on Cemetery Road.
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Oak Ridge Cemetery, in Springfield, Illinois.
#oak ridge cemetery#illinois#springfield#autumn#autumn leaves#fall#fall season#fall vibes#tomb#cemetery#original photography#photography#lensblr#photographers on tumblr#taphophile#taphophilia#tombs#wanderingjana
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Road to nowhere lyrics ozzy
#ROAD TO NOWHERE LYRICS OZZY PDF#
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#ROAD TO NOWHERE LYRICS OZZY PDF#
The State of North Carolina manages the principal and the County receives the interest each year.ĭownload pdf brochure with directions to the Road To Nowhere, hiking trails, Decoration Days and even more information. In 2018, the last payment was made in the settlement. The legal issue of whether to build the road was finally resolved in February, 2010 when the US Department of Interior signed a settlement agreement to pay Swain County $52 million in lieu of building the road. To learn more, read North Shore Decoration Days Continue Thanks to Park Staff by the Great Smoky Mountains Association. On weekends throughout the summer, the Park Service still ferries groups of Swain County residents across Fontana Lake to visit their old family cemeteries for Decoration Days and family reunions. IN OUR BLOG… A Remnant of Bryson CIty’s Historic ‘Road to Somewhere’Įach Winter, when the TVA lowers the water level, Fontana Lake reveals some of its fascinating history. And Swain County’s citizens gave the unfinished Lakeview Drive its popular, albeit unofficial name “The Road To Nowhere.” The environmental issue was eventually deemed too expensive and the roadwork was never resumed. And, of special importance to those displaced residents, it was to have provided access to the old family cemeteries where generations of ancestors remained behind.īut Lakeview Drive fell victim to an environmental issue and construction was stopped, with the road ending at a tunnel, about six miles into the park. Lakeview Drive was to have stretched along the north shore of Fontana Lake, from Bryson City to Fontana, 30 miles to the west. The Federal government promised to replace Highway 288 with a new road. The old road was buried beneath the deep waters of Fontana Lake. With the creation of the Park, their homes were gone, and so was Old Highway 288 the road to those communities. Hundreds of people were forced to leave the small Smoky Mountain communities that had been their homes for generations. Fontana Lake is actually a reservoir for Fontana Dam, which was built as a TVA project during World War II to produce electricity for ALCOA aluminum plants in Tennessee as well as for Oak Ridge National Laboratory’s Manhattan Project. In the 1930s and 1940s, Swain County gave up the majority of its private land to the Federal Government for the creation of Fontana Lake and the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. If you plan to walk through the tunnel you might want a flashlight and be aware horseback riders use the tunnel. Walking through the quarter-mile-long tunnel takes you to Goldmine Loop, Forney Creek (great trout fishing), Lakeshore Trail and other connecting trails. About a half-mile before the tunnel at the end of the road, you’ll find great hiking and trout fishing on the Noland Creek Trail. It provides an overlook of Fontana Lake and access to a number of hiking trails. Lakeview Drive is a beautiful drive or strenuous bike ride – particularly in the Fall. On the map, it is called Lakeview Drive, but to the citizens of Swain County it is “The Road to Nowhere - A Broken Promise.” But should that happen, there is always The Road to Nowhere, a scenic mountain highway that takes you six miles into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and ends at the mouth of a tunnel. With so much to see and do in the Bryson City area, it is hard to imagine a day when you might have nowhere to go.
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Situated at a bend of the Bosphorus
I have said that this little village was situated at a bend of the Bosphorus. We therefore agreed to walk over a mountain which rose directly behind it, and send the boat round, to meet us at another point, as there were some curiosities to see on the summit, as well as a fine view. We first passed the ruins of a building, known as the Genoese Castle, which must, in former times, have been of enormous extent and magnitude. Getting higher up, wre had a fine prospect of the opposite, or European, shores of the Bosphorus; and, at last, on a ridge of ground, we got our first view of the Black Sea, with its long, heavy swell coming towards the entrance of the strait in mighty curves, and dashing over the Symplegades -which still thrust their rugged heads from the foam as they are said to have done when. Jason passed with the Argonauts.
Still keeping along the ridge of the mountain, we came at length to some rich table land, upon which a shepherd, in a wild costume, was looking after his flock. He had an immense dog with him, and my companion told me that the animals of this breed were as fierce as wild beasts, when their master did not keep them close to his side. On this occasion the brute began to show his teeth, and seemed perfectly ready to spring at us, so we took a lower path, instead of crossing the pasture, for I was by no means anxious for an encounter. Once I was bitten through the eyebrow by a hound, and I have seen several people die of hydrophobia ; the result has been, that I believe a tiger would frighten me less than a threatening dog. We were repaid for our detour by a walk through a lovely thicket, the winding path being bordered all the way by ferns, dwarf oaks, wild vines, and the arbutus. The foliage was charming and most refreshing, for it was a long time since I had seen any, beyond the dusty cypress in the cemeteries, and the fruit-trees in the Smyrna gardens. I felt how expressive was the sentence of Eothen, when the author speaks, after his arid desert journey, of “diving into the cold verdure of groves, and quenching his hot eyes in shade, as though in deep rushing waters.”
A baksheesh to an idle dervish
On the top of the mountain we came to a small cluster of buildings, attached to which was an enclosure, commonly known as the Giant’s Grave; but said, by the Turks, to be the burial-place of Joshua. A baksheesh to an idle dervish, who kept a poor coffeehouse here, procured a peep into the holy spot; but only a peep, for, as we would not take off our shoes, we were not allowed to proceed further than the door-step. The “ grave ” looked like an oblong flower-bed, between twenty and thirty feet long; so that, if it had been expressly made to accommodate any individual, it is remarkable that, with his great weight, he left no more authenticated memorials of his existence or departure. At one end was a railing, on -which a quantity of rags and shreds of cloth were hung. These were offerings, such as one may see in the chapel of Jesus Flagelle, near Winiille, and had been sent by sick people. The superstition, however, connected with them is, that if they are portions of the dress worn by the diseased person, in proportion as they become purified by the sun and air, so will the invalid recover guided tour ephesus.
As we came away a number of veiled women rushed out of the house adjoining, and began to abuse us in the most violent and excited manner, and the dervish also came in for his full share, for having shown the sacred spot to such Giaour dogs as ourselves. Their rage was increased at perceiving that we had our shoes on, since they imagined that WTC had been walking generally over the holy ground. I never heard such “Billingsgate” as the pale beauties indulged in. The dervish took his few piastres, and retired, with a sly wink, to his hovel; but we were greeted with a shower of clods and stones as we left the spot. This was the first, and I must say the only, time that I was ever practically insulted by the faithful during my stay in Turkey? 3Iy companion told me that he was once set upon by a number, at Broussa. He was taking a sketch, and nothing would convince them but that he was an enchanter, working out some deep necromantic scheme, to their serious detriment.
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Situated at a bend of the Bosphorus
I have said that this little village was situated at a bend of the Bosphorus. We therefore agreed to walk over a mountain which rose directly behind it, and send the boat round, to meet us at another point, as there were some curiosities to see on the summit, as well as a fine view. We first passed the ruins of a building, known as the Genoese Castle, which must, in former times, have been of enormous extent and magnitude. Getting higher up, wre had a fine prospect of the opposite, or European, shores of the Bosphorus; and, at last, on a ridge of ground, we got our first view of the Black Sea, with its long, heavy swell coming towards the entrance of the strait in mighty curves, and dashing over the Symplegades -which still thrust their rugged heads from the foam as they are said to have done when. Jason passed with the Argonauts.
Still keeping along the ridge of the mountain, we came at length to some rich table land, upon which a shepherd, in a wild costume, was looking after his flock. He had an immense dog with him, and my companion told me that the animals of this breed were as fierce as wild beasts, when their master did not keep them close to his side. On this occasion the brute began to show his teeth, and seemed perfectly ready to spring at us, so we took a lower path, instead of crossing the pasture, for I was by no means anxious for an encounter. Once I was bitten through the eyebrow by a hound, and I have seen several people die of hydrophobia ; the result has been, that I believe a tiger would frighten me less than a threatening dog. We were repaid for our detour by a walk through a lovely thicket, the winding path being bordered all the way by ferns, dwarf oaks, wild vines, and the arbutus. The foliage was charming and most refreshing, for it was a long time since I had seen any, beyond the dusty cypress in the cemeteries, and the fruit-trees in the Smyrna gardens. I felt how expressive was the sentence of Eothen, when the author speaks, after his arid desert journey, of “diving into the cold verdure of groves, and quenching his hot eyes in shade, as though in deep rushing waters.”
A baksheesh to an idle dervish
On the top of the mountain we came to a small cluster of buildings, attached to which was an enclosure, commonly known as the Giant’s Grave; but said, by the Turks, to be the burial-place of Joshua. A baksheesh to an idle dervish, who kept a poor coffeehouse here, procured a peep into the holy spot; but only a peep, for, as we would not take off our shoes, we were not allowed to proceed further than the door-step. The “ grave ” looked like an oblong flower-bed, between twenty and thirty feet long; so that, if it had been expressly made to accommodate any individual, it is remarkable that, with his great weight, he left no more authenticated memorials of his existence or departure. At one end was a railing, on -which a quantity of rags and shreds of cloth were hung. These were offerings, such as one may see in the chapel of Jesus Flagelle, near Winiille, and had been sent by sick people. The superstition, however, connected with them is, that if they are portions of the dress worn by the diseased person, in proportion as they become purified by the sun and air, so will the invalid recover guided tour ephesus.
As we came away a number of veiled women rushed out of the house adjoining, and began to abuse us in the most violent and excited manner, and the dervish also came in for his full share, for having shown the sacred spot to such Giaour dogs as ourselves. Their rage was increased at perceiving that we had our shoes on, since they imagined that WTC had been walking generally over the holy ground. I never heard such “Billingsgate” as the pale beauties indulged in. The dervish took his few piastres, and retired, with a sly wink, to his hovel; but we were greeted with a shower of clods and stones as we left the spot. This was the first, and I must say the only, time that I was ever practically insulted by the faithful during my stay in Turkey? 3Iy companion told me that he was once set upon by a number, at Broussa. He was taking a sketch, and nothing would convince them but that he was an enchanter, working out some deep necromantic scheme, to their serious detriment.
0 notes
Photo
Situated at a bend of the Bosphorus
I have said that this little village was situated at a bend of the Bosphorus. We therefore agreed to walk over a mountain which rose directly behind it, and send the boat round, to meet us at another point, as there were some curiosities to see on the summit, as well as a fine view. We first passed the ruins of a building, known as the Genoese Castle, which must, in former times, have been of enormous extent and magnitude. Getting higher up, wre had a fine prospect of the opposite, or European, shores of the Bosphorus; and, at last, on a ridge of ground, we got our first view of the Black Sea, with its long, heavy swell coming towards the entrance of the strait in mighty curves, and dashing over the Symplegades -which still thrust their rugged heads from the foam as they are said to have done when. Jason passed with the Argonauts.
Still keeping along the ridge of the mountain, we came at length to some rich table land, upon which a shepherd, in a wild costume, was looking after his flock. He had an immense dog with him, and my companion told me that the animals of this breed were as fierce as wild beasts, when their master did not keep them close to his side. On this occasion the brute began to show his teeth, and seemed perfectly ready to spring at us, so we took a lower path, instead of crossing the pasture, for I was by no means anxious for an encounter. Once I was bitten through the eyebrow by a hound, and I have seen several people die of hydrophobia ; the result has been, that I believe a tiger would frighten me less than a threatening dog. We were repaid for our detour by a walk through a lovely thicket, the winding path being bordered all the way by ferns, dwarf oaks, wild vines, and the arbutus. The foliage was charming and most refreshing, for it was a long time since I had seen any, beyond the dusty cypress in the cemeteries, and the fruit-trees in the Smyrna gardens. I felt how expressive was the sentence of Eothen, when the author speaks, after his arid desert journey, of “diving into the cold verdure of groves, and quenching his hot eyes in shade, as though in deep rushing waters.”
A baksheesh to an idle dervish
On the top of the mountain we came to a small cluster of buildings, attached to which was an enclosure, commonly known as the Giant’s Grave; but said, by the Turks, to be the burial-place of Joshua. A baksheesh to an idle dervish, who kept a poor coffeehouse here, procured a peep into the holy spot; but only a peep, for, as we would not take off our shoes, we were not allowed to proceed further than the door-step. The “ grave ” looked like an oblong flower-bed, between twenty and thirty feet long; so that, if it had been expressly made to accommodate any individual, it is remarkable that, with his great weight, he left no more authenticated memorials of his existence or departure. At one end was a railing, on -which a quantity of rags and shreds of cloth were hung. These were offerings, such as one may see in the chapel of Jesus Flagelle, near Winiille, and had been sent by sick people. The superstition, however, connected with them is, that if they are portions of the dress worn by the diseased person, in proportion as they become purified by the sun and air, so will the invalid recover guided tour ephesus.
As we came away a number of veiled women rushed out of the house adjoining, and began to abuse us in the most violent and excited manner, and the dervish also came in for his full share, for having shown the sacred spot to such Giaour dogs as ourselves. Their rage was increased at perceiving that we had our shoes on, since they imagined that WTC had been walking generally over the holy ground. I never heard such “Billingsgate” as the pale beauties indulged in. The dervish took his few piastres, and retired, with a sly wink, to his hovel; but we were greeted with a shower of clods and stones as we left the spot. This was the first, and I must say the only, time that I was ever practically insulted by the faithful during my stay in Turkey? 3Iy companion told me that he was once set upon by a number, at Broussa. He was taking a sketch, and nothing would convince them but that he was an enchanter, working out some deep necromantic scheme, to their serious detriment.
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Situated at a bend of the Bosphorus
I have said that this little village was situated at a bend of the Bosphorus. We therefore agreed to walk over a mountain which rose directly behind it, and send the boat round, to meet us at another point, as there were some curiosities to see on the summit, as well as a fine view. We first passed the ruins of a building, known as the Genoese Castle, which must, in former times, have been of enormous extent and magnitude. Getting higher up, wre had a fine prospect of the opposite, or European, shores of the Bosphorus; and, at last, on a ridge of ground, we got our first view of the Black Sea, with its long, heavy swell coming towards the entrance of the strait in mighty curves, and dashing over the Symplegades -which still thrust their rugged heads from the foam as they are said to have done when. Jason passed with the Argonauts.
Still keeping along the ridge of the mountain, we came at length to some rich table land, upon which a shepherd, in a wild costume, was looking after his flock. He had an immense dog with him, and my companion told me that the animals of this breed were as fierce as wild beasts, when their master did not keep them close to his side. On this occasion the brute began to show his teeth, and seemed perfectly ready to spring at us, so we took a lower path, instead of crossing the pasture, for I was by no means anxious for an encounter. Once I was bitten through the eyebrow by a hound, and I have seen several people die of hydrophobia ; the result has been, that I believe a tiger would frighten me less than a threatening dog. We were repaid for our detour by a walk through a lovely thicket, the winding path being bordered all the way by ferns, dwarf oaks, wild vines, and the arbutus. The foliage was charming and most refreshing, for it was a long time since I had seen any, beyond the dusty cypress in the cemeteries, and the fruit-trees in the Smyrna gardens. I felt how expressive was the sentence of Eothen, when the author speaks, after his arid desert journey, of “diving into the cold verdure of groves, and quenching his hot eyes in shade, as though in deep rushing waters.”
A baksheesh to an idle dervish
On the top of the mountain we came to a small cluster of buildings, attached to which was an enclosure, commonly known as the Giant’s Grave; but said, by the Turks, to be the burial-place of Joshua. A baksheesh to an idle dervish, who kept a poor coffeehouse here, procured a peep into the holy spot; but only a peep, for, as we would not take off our shoes, we were not allowed to proceed further than the door-step. The “ grave ” looked like an oblong flower-bed, between twenty and thirty feet long; so that, if it had been expressly made to accommodate any individual, it is remarkable that, with his great weight, he left no more authenticated memorials of his existence or departure. At one end was a railing, on -which a quantity of rags and shreds of cloth were hung. These were offerings, such as one may see in the chapel of Jesus Flagelle, near Winiille, and had been sent by sick people. The superstition, however, connected with them is, that if they are portions of the dress worn by the diseased person, in proportion as they become purified by the sun and air, so will the invalid recover guided tour ephesus.
As we came away a number of veiled women rushed out of the house adjoining, and began to abuse us in the most violent and excited manner, and the dervish also came in for his full share, for having shown the sacred spot to such Giaour dogs as ourselves. Their rage was increased at perceiving that we had our shoes on, since they imagined that WTC had been walking generally over the holy ground. I never heard such “Billingsgate” as the pale beauties indulged in. The dervish took his few piastres, and retired, with a sly wink, to his hovel; but we were greeted with a shower of clods and stones as we left the spot. This was the first, and I must say the only, time that I was ever practically insulted by the faithful during my stay in Turkey? 3Iy companion told me that he was once set upon by a number, at Broussa. He was taking a sketch, and nothing would convince them but that he was an enchanter, working out some deep necromantic scheme, to their serious detriment.
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