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assurance thpage as a Turk : but our boatman was success of our specimen, to say the least of him; me to take car we know, might have been exercispers, public andthe Yankee trick of answering one dispatches from og another. alarming: he pause which was interrupted by our ment's warnings something which, from the intonacity; that the to be a question. This called for the been reportearth sentence in our extensive vocabureach theo not understand you," in consequence of raad- he explained himself at length, much to our bewilderment, but the last word solved the mystery -“ backschish!” A handful of paras, with which the captain had supplied us, was all-sufficient, and on turning round, we found that the caïque was close to the landing-place.

Five minutes after, we were picking our way along the narrow, dark, and extremely dirty streets of the quarter Galata, under the guidance of a Greek dragoman, who had proffered his services on our quitting the caïque. Soon, we were snugly ensconced in two very comfortable chairs of Parisian make, and were partaking of an admirable supper at the table of Monsieur L-n, whose residence, having been built expressly to suit his French taste, was the fac-simile of a civilized dwelling, and was reputed to be one of the most elegant in Pera. We forgot in a short time that we were " strangers in a strange land," and the family party-I might almost call it so--did not break up until quite late.

I was awakened at sunrise the next morning by the loud voices of the muezzins, calling the faithful to prayer, from the lofty minarets of the innumerable mosques in the city. Although the tones were excessively harsh and discordant, there was still something more solemn in this manner of proclaiming to the sleepers their duty, than if a bell bad been tolled from the airy galleries.

Having but three days to stay in Constantinople, in accordance with our preconcerted arrangements, we were obliged to bestir ourselves in order to get ready for our travels through Asia Minor. Monsieur L-n was kind enough to offer his services in assisting us, and also in showing us through the city, in consequence of which last promise we set out quite early in the morning under his direction. It was Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath, and it was therefore useless to pass through the bazaars, as the shops would all be closed. Avoiding them, Mon. sieur L-n led us to the banks of the Golden Horn, and, entering a highly ornamented and beautiful caïque, we shot across to Constantinoplo proper.

From the water, the view of the city was beautiful beyond description: the numerous brilliantlydecorated domes, surrounded by the tall sky-reaching minarets of red and white stone, with their transparent galleries of pierced marble, rose high above the encor ng crowd of picture wooden houses, and encircling groves of plane-trees and cypresses. Everything seemed bright and clean; but

this proved, on landing, to be a false impression, the streets being extremely narrow, horrificasiously dirty, and the houses of most tarnished appearance. Hailing an empty araba—all gilding and discomfort --that was being led slowly along by its driver, we entered it and were jolted through the indescribably rough streets in a vehicle without springs, pulled by two oxen not remarkable for their size, cleanliness, or respectable appearance, although I suppose that they, as well as the araba, belonged to an acquaintance of Monsieur L-n's, as the slave seemed to recognize him.

The first place we alighted in was the Atmeidan (or Hippodrome), on one side of which stands the Mosque of the Sultan Achmet, a splendid erection, remarkable for being the only sacred edifice in the Mohammedan world that possesses six minarets ;that at Mecca has now seven, although originally but four, the other three having been added in consequence of the Sultan Achmet having received (or bought) permission to increase-in that which he was having built-the usual number by two, it not being considered proper that a subsidiary place of worship should have more than the great head. Being "giaours," we were not permitted to enter any of the mosques without a firman, which we had not, so we were obliged to content ourselves with a mere exterior view, although on our return to Constantinople the following year, we not only visited the “Sultan Achmet,” but also the "Sancta Sophia" and the “Solemanie."

In the Atmeidan there is an obelisk of Egyptian granite, brought from Rhodes by the Emperor Theodosius, who put it on a white marble pedestal covered with bassi relievi of the worst possible execution, depicting his majesty's victories; the sculptor was undoubtedly a conqueror also, as he has left undeniable evidences of his having utterly vanquished the rules of art. No matter, it's good enough for barbarians.

Not far from this relic stands the spiral column of bronze, once terminating in three serpents' heads, one of which is said to have been struck off at a single blow by the sword of the Sultan Achmet. This pillar is also reported to have once supported the tripod of the Delphio goddess, and—yet again to be the identical column that was presented by the Greeks to the oracle of that town after the bat. tle of Plateæ. I suppose that ono is at liberty to credit as much and as many of the above traditions as he pleases; but there is a fourth, in which the Turks place implicit and unquestioning belief: it is that when this pillar shall be removed from its present position, the Christians will regain the mastery of Constantinople; at which period a walled-up chamber in the Mosque of Sancta Sophia is to open of its own accord, and a Greek bishop (who has been praying in it, with a missal upon which no Mos. lem eye may rest, ever since the commencement of the Mohammedan supremacy), will come out and

chant the service at the high altar. This will undoubtedly happen, if he is in there—and he will have excellent reason to give thanks after so long an imprisonment.

About a hundred yards from the bronze tripod is the unsightly column of Constantine, nothing more than a rudely-constructed pillar, ninety feet in height, of unhewn stones of all shapes and sizes. None of the metal which once covered it now remains.

We next proceeded to examine the exterior of the Mosque of Sancta Sophia, and having done so, left it, grumbling at the Moslem bigotry that prevented us from entering its beauteous gates. In the afternoon, we visited the quarter of Fanar, the residence of the principal Greek families in Stamboul, who are called Fanariotes. I was told that they speak a language remarkable for its resemblance to the tonguo of Ancient Greece; but I was unable to encounter a single individual of the race, as they hold themselves much aloof from strangers.

Monsieur L-n assisted us, on the following day, in preparing for our journey through Asia Minor, and informed us that, as the Archbishop of Broussa was then at Constantinople, we had merely to ask him for a letter to the Armenian convents on the Mounts of Bemdar, and we would be sure to have our request complied with. We accordingly waited on his holiness, and were received with the utmost urbanity and politeness, being dismissed, after an hour's conversation, with an assurance that a letter should be sent us by the time of our intended departure.

On Sunday we visited the immense cemeteries in the neighborhood of Pera. The thousands of tombs with their turbaned pillars, overshadowed by the yew and cypress; the women in their black silk gowns and impenetrable veils, pouring libations on some of the mausoleums, on the anniversary of their bereavement; the fresh garlands of flowers laid on the marble slabs—all tended to give me a deeper reverence for the Moslems in general than I had ever before experienced. They at least do not forget their dead.

In the same evening (Sunday) we went to a musical entertainment at Signor F-i's, an Italian gentleman residing in the neighborhood of Monsieur L-n's house. We retired soon, as we wished to prepare for an early departure the next morning.

We were up before sunrise on Monday, and, together with our regular travelling attendants, the three brothers Boyd, and five Armenian supernumeraries, were soon busily engaged in making our final dispositions for leaving the "City of the Sultan;" and these were not very extensive, consisting prin. cipally of the cramming of the greatest possible number of habiliments into the most diminutive saddle-bags I ever met with, for we had no animals beside those which we rode, as we did not wish to incumber ourselves with superfluous annoyances. Monsieur n kindly undertook to forward the

greater part of our baggage to Smyrna by sea, and thus relieved us of the trouble of carrying a large quantity of unnecessary luggage through Asia Mi. nor.

At six o'clock we were all ready to start, when it was suddenly remembered that the Archbishop of Broussa had not sent us the letter he had promised. This was very delightful, as without it we did not stand a particularly good chance of obtaining an entrance into the several monasteries we had decided upon invading for the purpose of ransacking their libraries. What was to be done? Nothing, but to send a message to his holiness, and so we determined to employ Ned Grey as stirrer-up. To do this it was necessary to borrow a horse, as all of ours were waiting for us at Scutari, on the other side of the Bosphorus. Monsieur L-n had one of his saddled instantly; but as Grey was mounting, the letter came in the care of one of the archbishop's household, with an apology for its not having been sooner seut. Of course, “it was of no consequence," and, so saying, we placed the saddle-bags in a twowheeled vehicle (I don't know exactly what to call it, a wagon, a dray, or something else) drawn by an extremely attenuated donkey, that would have been a prize to a student studying anatomy.

We permitted the curious conveyance to precede us, attended by the Armenians, for the fact was we were ashamed to be seen in its company even by the dirty, shabby Constantinopolitans, and so we followed at a respectful distance, accompanied by our late host. Passing through the market-place of * Tophanna," (which means nearly the same as “ Arsenal,") we took a peep at the beautiful fountain, and the exterior of the mosque of Sultan Selim, one of the beauties of the Pera side of the Golden Horn. By its side, toward the water, is the quay of Topbanna, where the cannon are kept-ready for service, too, as was proved one night, some time ago, the pier baving been set on fire during an insurrection of the Janissaries. The flames discharged the ready-loaded cannon, sending the balls wbizzing over to Scutari, where the populace were dreadfully alarmed, thinking that the Greeks had revolted, seized the arsenal, and were bombarding the city. Such, however, was not the case, as the reader knows, and the petty cause of all the fright was soon quelled.

Near the quay was the caïque we had engaged the day before ; and, the saddle-bags being transferred to it, the indescribable vehicle was hobbled away with by the anatomical donkey, much to our satisfaction, and we entered the boat, being landed in a short time at Scutari, after having had a glanco at that curious island structure called indiscrimi. nately the Maiden's, or Leander's Tower; the Turkish name is Kiz Koulasi, of which the interpretation is the first of the above given appellations. *

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* The derivation of “Kiz Koulasi” is evident, being By the side of the landing-place at Scutari rises the mosque of Buyeck D'Jami; it has a gallery running all around its exterior walls, and has a remarkably small dome for so extensive a structure: it also prides itself in possessing two singularly beautiful minarets, while the adjacent fountain is a triumph of arabesque sculpture.

We found the horses at the appointed spot, and were soon ready to start. Monsieur L-n now took leave of us and returned to Pera, while we set off on our expedition, taking the route to Ismid. The road was not very bad, and by six in the evening we had reached the caravanserai* of Jub Gannoum, about twenty-seven miles from Scutari, where we spent the night in company with uncountable fleas, who, by our subsequent sensations, must have made a far better supper than we managed to procure.

A slight detention on the route prevented us from reaching Ismid until quite late on Tuesday evening. I imagined we did not lose much in not seeing the town, as it is very small and frightfully the converso of clean, if the khant we put up at may be taken as a specimen, or if my olfactories did not play me a trick as we rode through the place.

Now I am sorry that I have no adventures to relate as having occurred to me on the road from Scutari to the Monastery of Abrodol (the first on our not very long list); but, as I have before said, I seldom or never have the good luck to meet with any, and at present I cannot remember a single one, among the legions that are generally supposed to have happened to previous travellers, that would serve to introduce here, or I might appropriate it, with some little alterations. Such being the case, I will run through this part of our journey much quicker than our horses carried us, and merely mention our crossing the River Saccaria (or Aiala), on Thursday morning.

We arrived on its banks late on Wednesday evening, and, with the sun of the following day, searched for a fordable spot, which, after many failures, we found about a mile further south. The Armenians plunged boldly in and crossed with the

greatest ease ; Harry Boyd followed, and my turn came next.

I spurred up my horse, but he did not wish to go in, having no fancy for a cold bath so soon after breakfast. He kicked and plunged, unfortunately not into the water, and waltzed away as if & German born, but in he would not go: he was in a perfect tantrum, and it was with the utmost difficulty that I managed to quiet him sufficiently to turn him round. At length I succeeded in doing so, and backed him gently into the river. As soc

soon as the water touched his fetlocks, he must needs take another prance; but I rapidly caused him to head the stream. Then, with a vigorous pass at him with my spurs, and a crack over his back with my portable fishing-rod-I had no whip-I forced him to dance into the water, which he did not approve of at all, and, with as many turnings and twistings as possible, he contrived to get to the middle of the Saccaria, where he stopped short. Nothing would budge him, and to avoid the water I was screwed up nearly on top of the saddle, looking for all the world” like an awkward circus-rider. Several pokes with the end of my fishing-rod had no more effect than a willow bough, and I was in an agreeable situation, internally wishing the horse and the Saccaria at the North Pole. There wab Grey on one bank laughing to kill himself, haid on the other the five Armenians grinning like motkeys and showing their superb set of teeth to the best advant tage. At length one of these took pity on meid, re-entering the stream, whispered some Afiftenian words in the horse's ear, who instantly became docile, and permitted me to direct him to the opposite bank, Grey and the two Boyds following.

Now, I was no believer in charms, but still I felt curious to know what the Armenian had said to the horse; so, beckoning him aside, I inquired. He could not tell, it was a secret (between him and the horse, doubtless); but a piaster brought it out. Taking me a little way from the rest of the party, and carefully looking round to see that none was within eaves-dropping distance, he murmured in the lowest possible tone of voice, and with an air of the greatest secrecy and seriousness, “I said, 'O horse! if thou wilt be ridden in peace across these waters, Allah will reward thee, and I, O horse! will give thee, at our first halt, an extra measure of oats !!!'Think, O gentle reader ! how this unhappy indivi. dual was humbugged out of a piastre! Justice, however, should be rendered to the Armenian, for he fulfilled his promise, that is, he took the money to purchase the grain.*

A little before noon we checked our horses at the foot of the precipice, on the summit of which was

doubtless & corrupt pronunciation of “Kiss you, lassy," a sentence that Leander may easily be supposed to have frequently addressed to the fair Hero.

The origin of the name of the surrounding waters is equally clear: “Buss for us,” which, in course of time, has come to be mispronounced "Bosphorus.”

* Caravan-serai means caravan-houso, and is a large building, capable of accommodating with ease two or three of the huge assemblies of merchants that are continually crossing the country. They are consequently placed on the great routes, at the distance of a day's journey from each other.

+ A khan is a small tavern, to be found in every village, for the accommodation () of single travellers, or parties of ten or twelve merchants, where the guest" has to be his own “chief cook and bottle-roasher," provided he can find Any clean water

* It may be as well to remark here that I afterwards discovered the horse to have been subdued by the Armenian's compressing the animals nostrils in a peculiar manner, which, however, is kept strictly secret.

the Monastery of Abrodol, whose gray, time-worn walls looked like a continuation of the sheer cliff that rose before us to the height of over a hundred and fifty feet. Old wooden ladders formed the only apparent means of access, if such, indeed, they could be called, for they were evidently unable to bear the weight of a man, provided he could find a foothold on the rough rounds, that were so close to the face of the ascent that they seemed to be pasted on it like engravings in a scrap-book. It was indisputable that a horse could not walk up them, and we began to doubt whether any of the monks had made use of them for a month of Sundays, or, in fact, if any of those highly respectable recluses were in the land of the living, for all our shouts and screams and gunshots made no more impression on the ears of the fraternity than upon the cliff itself.

We began to think that we might as well dine, and then proceed upon our journey, when a chance glance upwards displayed to my view an open shutter in a little tower that overhung a corner of the monastic walls, out of which were stretched the head, shoulders, and arms of an old black-capped gentleman, who was gesticulating vehemently, and I presume shouting to us, as his mouth was opening and shutting with unprecedented velocity. We jumped up and flourished our letters of introduction from the archbishop of Broussa and the Greek patriarch, which last had been procured for us by a friend in Jerusalem.

This caused the instant disappearance of the old human windmill, who, however, returned to his post, after a few moments’ delay, in a very flourishing condition, giving place to a long rope, one end of which was soon dangling in our faces. No sooner did this take place than the Armenians plunged at a strong net that was firmly attached to the rope, and, spreading it out, were about to roll me up in it, when suddenly it was twitched out of their grasp and reach. This curious manœuvre made us raise our eyes to the window, where the animated windmill was turning round a piece of paper. We understood this as a requisition for our letters, which we again produced, and, the rope descending, sent them up for inspection before the high tribunal, not without some misgivings in regard to the safety of such a course. But we were soon reassured by the net's coming down once more, without the documents, which we accepted in the light of an invitation to ascend.

I lay down full length on the net, and was soon bundled up in it like David Copperfield in his aunt's shawls. Being tied up tight, with nothing free but my arms and head, the Armenians gave the signal, and the monks began slowly to draw me up, during which operation I inwardly vowed never to catch fish again, as I participated in their feelings on leav. ing their native element. This was before I had got twenty-five feet above the ground; but, when about twice that distance, the sway of the rope began to be

very distinctly felt, making my sensations anything rather than agreeable, as it turned round and round. At length I felt so faint and sick that I could scarcely retain presence of mind sufficient to keep myself clear of the cliff by the use of my invaluable fishingrod. I was nearly two-thirds of the way up when I became conscious that, owing to these exertions, the fastenings of the net were giving way. I clung to the rope instinctively; the vibrations continued, though I quickly neared the monastery walls: I was, however, afraid to use my fishing-rod, and in a second I jarred heavily against the cliff, becoming insensible.

When I recovered my faculties, I was lying on a floor of a small square room filled with monks; Harry Boyd was holding my head ; Grey was by my side, while the affrighted faces of two of the Armenians completed the group. I soon found that I was not dead, but in the turret, and in a few moments several athletic monks had pulled up the other two Boyds, the rest of the Armenians remaining below to take charge of the horses.

I was considerably bruised by my encounter with the cliff, and it was two or three days before I was able to leave the dormitory which the kind and attentive brotherhood bad assigned for my use; but once recovered, I turned my thoughts toward thinning the library of the monastery by removing the most valuable manuscripts at the lowest possible, outlay. Such is the gratitude of human nature !

But it is time for me to break off, as I have more than related “How we spent three days in Constantinople, and how we left it.”


WHEN wearied in a faithless world,

Who would not wish to soar,
And seek, beyond the gems of night,

Some more congenial shore ?
Where all is change, no lasting joyg

Can crown the gayest hours; The dearest hopes despair alloys,

And fade the fairest flowers.
Where formal friendships fade so soon,

There love is but a ray,
That ne'er dispels the clouds above,

Nor warms life's wintry day.
Tis but a gleam, a dazzling gleam,

Athwart the path of life,
Which but illumes our sorrows here,

To leave a darker strife!
But, toils no more-life's sorrows done

The aching heart at rest,
The sinless soul shall find a home

Afar amid the blost:
Then Hope no more, with siren tongue,

Shall sing of ideal bliss ;
For, there forgot, in that far land,

Will be the cares of this.



To properly commence our story, we must accompany the fair Ellen as she enters, unannounced, her sister's elegant home, in one of the most beautiful streets of our gay city, where her welcome is proclaimed in joyous tones by a group of many children, to whom Aunt Ellen's arrival is always a joy. After a time devoted to their amusement, the little group is dispersed, each member of it laden with a portion of their aunt's attire, marshalled by Master Charles, who, with her muff surmounting his brow, fancied himself a most perfect grenadier; and, determining to enjoy fully the pleasure of this fancy, resolutely closes the door of the apartment they entered, and placing himself as sentinel, announced his determination to make them all stay with him and play soldier as long as he pleases. Leaving them to the enjoyment of their unwilling parade, we return to the ladies, Ellen and Heloise, the mother of these little ones, who gladly avail themselves of the opportunity for an uninterrupted conversation.

“You would not have seen me to-day," said Ellen ; “but I was depressed in spirits, and thought I would come and have a romp with the children and a talk with you. Were you ever dull or sad when you were engaged, sister ?”

“ It is so long since then that I scarce recollect," replied Heloise, smiling. “But I believe, as the time fixed for my nuptials approached, I realized more fully the importance of the responsibilities I was incurring, and sometimes almost feared to fulfil my promises to Charles. It is but natural, Ellen; a young girl cannot enter upon duties of so serious a nature as those of married life, without many misgivings as to her own ability for their fulfilment; nor would it be well otherwise. It is an important change, and should be thought of as such.”

“It is, indeed, sister, a very important event, and I assure you I realize it as such. But come, Heloise, honor bright," continued Ellen, glancing slyly with her merry black eyes, " did you ever wish you had not engaged yourself ?”

“Did I ever really wish such a thing, Ellen, do you ask ?" inquired Heloise, in a tone of surprise, looking earnestly at her sister. “No, surely, I never did.”

“ There, sister, don't be alarmed, and return me my question with your eyes," said Ellen, as she read aright the expression of her sister's face; "and do not be shocked at my question; I only asked to tease you. I know your attachment to Charles was of too romantic and devoted a nature to admit the possibility of such a supposition for an instant; and

that look of astonishment at my question would have answered me without a word, had I really doubted you. But what a beautiful bouquet you have here!" rising, and seeking, by ber admiration of the flowers, not only to bide her confusion under the penetrating gaze of her sister, but also to change the conversation.

“Yes, they are beautiful," answered Heloise, on whose face was now settled an anxious, thoughtful look. “ Charles culled them before he left this morning. If you will, you may have them."

Thank you, sister, you are really kind; and, since you are so generous, I will gladly yield to my selfishness, and accept them.” As she spoke, Ellen stood for some moments before the splendid mirror that filled the pier, and seemed to be occupied in arranging some of the flowers in her hair.

While she thus stood, Heloise regarded her attentively, and there was silence for some moments, unbroken save by the voice of Master Charles, as he marched in the adjoining room, officiating in the double capacity of leader and trumpeter; and then Heloise, addressing Ellen, was the first to speak

“And so you were dull to-day, and thought to amuse yourself by tearing your unoffending sister, my dear Ellen ?"

Oui, ma chere scur ; and I have the satisfaction of knowing that I completely effected my purpose,” was the laughing reply of Ellen, who now sought earnestly to divert her sister's attention from the cause of her dulness.

, “Yes, my sister, you have succeeded, as I must own. I am annoyed; but,” said Heloise, in a seri. ous tone, " not so much by your question, as by the motive which I fear prompted it."

For a moment Ellen was silent; the color mounted to her cheeks and temples, as she saw that her sister's penetration had rendered candor on her part inevitable; then, casting aside all reserve, she ingoniously asked

"And what have you discovered, dear Heloise, beyond my simple question ?"

“ That there is some feeling of uneasiness at your heart, at present, which prompted it, and which, if I may know, I would,” replied Heloise.

“You are right, sister; I have had feelings and fears of late that have given me discomfort, and I am now glad to speak of them to you, as to no one else would I breathe them."

“Well, Ellen, as the course of true love never yet ran smooth, I shall expect to hear of some very dreadful occurrence," said Heloise, jestingly; yet a

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