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EXTRACTS OF LETTERS FROM THE EAST.

(Continued from page 374, Vol. VI.)

A WALK THROUGH CONSTANTINOPLE.

UNDOUBTEDLY the best way to enjoy Constantinople is to provide oneself with a pair of boots long enough to reach over the knee, so as to make you independent of mud; and then to set out on foot. unaccompanied by a commissioner, and unburdened by Murray, to "saunter," as the momentary impulse leads, up this alley, and down that lane, stumbling unawares into mosque courts, and losing oneself in hopeless labyrinths of picturesque ruins. Thus only can you enjoy Stamboul. Your attention is not absorbed in trying to gag the valet-de-place, who is pouring forth his newest fabrications at your elbow, or in guiding a horse whose chief talent seems to be jamming your knees against sharp corners, or projecting himself on the unyielding burdens of unsympathizing donkeys. Nowhere do you find a more interesting field for amusement. Even after the busy bazaar is passed, the silent lonely streets are so very full of "newness.' Street after street is passed (I speak at present of Stamboul proper, "the city of the Turks") in which you hardly see a soul. The latticed windows and firmly closed doors give the place an uninhabited look. A female figure in gay coloured clothes may flit rapidly round a corner, looking like the good genius of the place finally deserting its home, or a mangy dog lies lazily in the narrow stream of sunshine; but your footfall alone disturbs the stillness. Then the houses themselves are such villanous tumble-downs-very beau-ideals of picturesque rottenness. Any of them might be taken as models for the scene of some tragic murder,-or might bear the imputation of any amount of crime. He must, indeed, have been an erratic genius who planned and erected them!

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These characteristics, while they belong more or less to all the houses in Constantinople, are possessed in a more marked degree by those in Stamboul, which is that part of the city which lies to the south of the harbour, or Golden Horn,—an arm of the Bosphorus running at right angles to it on its west shore, and up some distance into the land. On the north of the Golden Horn

lies Galata, close by the shore, and Pera above it, on the hill-side. The former is the commercial, and the latter the aristocratic quarter; and each of the three great divisions-Stamboul, Galata, and Pera-are as distinct from one another in

their class of inhabitants and customs as can be. Galata is full of bustling, rapacious Greeks, cheating Armenians, and traders of all nations. Pera is the hotel and ambassage quarter; while Stamboul is peculiarly the city of the Turks. To see Constantinople, then, we must cross the Golden Horn; and this is accomplished by means of various bridges of boats. It is here on these bridges, more especially on one by the harbour, that the curious mixture of nations visiting this capital are to be seen. As the tide of human beings flows past, the nations of the world seem to have sent representatives to the grand masquerade. Turks, Greeks, Persians in their high sheepskin caps; Circassians in their open pelisse, stuck over with cartridges; French, English, soldiers and sailors; the Jew with his "kick-me-if-you-will feature;" the fat pasha on his sleek cob; and the wandering dervish, a medley bundle of rags and smells; and last in place, but prominent in beauty, the Circassian female, in her gingerbread-looking carriage,-all crowd along in little wavelets. There is not in the world, perhaps, such a “melange." After crossing this bridge, you require to run the gauntlet through a host of importunate Jews, amiably tendering their services as guides through the bazaars: "Want me, master? shew you all the būzzars for tu pence;" and they might add with propriety: "Cheat you, master, throughout all the day for nothing" for a more villanous set it would be difficult to find. The first place usually visited is the drug bazaar, near the water. This is the most truly oriental of all the covered bazaars. Arched overhead, it is a street in itself, lined on both sides with wooden counters, covered with heaps of dye stuffs, curious roots, and dried leaves brought from every clime. sombre shade is thrown over all from the absence of windows, and a heavy smell of incense loads the air. The old longbearded Turks, too, sitting so solemnly behind their wares, so strikingly dressed

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in their snow-white turbans and haicks, and enveloped in perpetual clouds of tchibouque smoke. One's mind is filled with an inexpressible feeling, compounded of the reminiscences of the Arabian nights, and the scenery on a China tea-cup-a feeling as if looking on something not of this world—an opium vision of Eastern travel. The other bazaars are divided into streets, each set apart for some craft. Goldsmiths, drapers, shoemakers, furriers, tobacconists, &c. &c., herd together; so that on one side is seen a long line of yellow morocco slippers, and up another alley, muslin dresses and Fez caps.

It is curious to observe the sudden vivacity which seizes on the formerly listless stall-holder when he thinks you are going to buy. "Look here, master:" "I say, Johnny," resound on all sides. Shoes, silk dresses, caps, flourish in the air; and pipe-sticks with amber mouth-pieces, are held out in a style meant to disarm all opposition. If you do offer for anything, they coolly demand ten times what they mean to accept, and unblushingly receive a mere fraction of their demand; if you only let them handle the money, the touch has a charm for them they cannot resist. Armed with the solitary sentence "katch ghroush," the analogue of the "combien," | "quanto," or "wie viel," by the aid of which the independent Englishman travels over Europe, you may come to terms; the shortest way being to pocket the goods, pay down what you believe to be proper, exclaim, "bono," which here passes for everything, and move on. The crowd in these bazaars is sometimes immense; and as horses and carriages are allowed to pass where they can, the jam is sometimes complete. The women form the majority; and here, as elsewhere, they seem to derive their chief amusement from shopping. To see the crowd of yashmac'd females at the stall of some fashionable Jew, hauling down and examining everything on his shelves, teazing and bullying, and yet going away without purchasing, would be an interesting thing to the ethnologist, as tending to shew how universal are such features throughout the great female family. It is in the bazaars that the chief beauties of the Turkish harems are to be seen, particularly when the Sultan's "lot" are abroad. I was lucky enough the other day to see nineteen carriages, having four in each, coming from the seraglio; and I must say, that while many of them were exquisitely beautiful, the majority had little to boast of. The yashmacs, while they

conceal much that may be plain, reveal all the glory of the large solemn eye, which irresistibly bends you in the dust. Outside the bazaars, in the streets around, one catches such queer peeps of marble bath-rooms, stirring coffee-houses, the portico of a mosque, or a curious little graveyard let in between the gables of contiguous houses; there a tobacco shop, here a confectionary stands heaped with the delicious sweetmeats of which the Turks are so fond. At corners, too, are often seen beautifully ornamented windows of latticed iron-work, overshadowed by hanging roofs to ward off the sun, and having ranged all round little brazen cups full of cold water, to quench the burning throat of the passerby, and which tiny goblets are ever replenished by an attendant, who stands within, the guardian at the tomb of some great man-it may be a monarch of former times-who has endowed the well in perpetuity for his thirsty countrymen. The ornamented coffin of the founder may be seen within, reposing on the marble pavement. Some of these tombs are most elegant. Light marble chapels placed in gardens, from which the roses clime to the windows, and enter the railings around the entrance. Stoves, too, heat the air in winter, and carpets cover the floor. There is nothing of cold mould. The skull and crossbones are concealed with velvet and gold trimmings.

In Stamboul we visit also the Atmeidan, or Hippodrome-so interesting from its historic associations. The scene of the Greek games, and the frequent emeutés of the Janissaries, and the final destruction of that turbulent body within its precincts, bestow on it considerable interest. Near by is St. Sophia,-the first-built, and still the most splendid of the mosques of Constantinople. A few years ago no one could obtain admission without a firman, which cost £10, and an immense deal of trouble. I and a few more got in the other day for fourpence a-head-the tariff the invaders have set down for themselves. This church being built in the form of a Greek cross, displays a greater area to the eye than is presented in the Latin churches. The view of the interior from the gallery is very striking, when looking down on the vast centre spanned by that wonderful cupola, whose construction has puzzled so many architects, poised, as it were, in the air, without support. The groups of prostrate worshippers; the teachers surrounded by their attentive congregations; the fretted roof and graceful pillars, combine to form an admirable and

unique whole. The church, however, being built by the Christians, stands east and west; while the Mihrab, or Mussulman altar, having always the direction of Mecca, which here lies to the south-east, is in one corner; and all the carpets, &c., being laid with reference to this, gives an awry twist to the church, and takes away much from the general effect. The ancient pillars are relics of all the chief temples of antiquity, such as that of Diana at Ephesus, the Sun at Baalbec, Pallas at Athens, Poebus at Delos, and of Cybele at Cyzicus. Justinian and Chrysostom, too, shed the light of their happy memory over its walls; and the melancholy scene here enacted of Constantine, the last of a long line of imperial rulers, partaking of his last sacrament, as he went forth to sacrifice his life in defence of his beloved city-consecrating the whole. On one pillar is shewn the outline of the conqueror's mailed hand, as, red with blood, he struck it in his fury against the stone; and another pillar nearly severed in twain, is said to have owed its destruction to a stroke from the sabre of the same warrior. The worn toe of St. Peter is outdone by a holy stone contained in this church, which has a large hole worn in it by the digital applications of the worshippers. The splendour of this church before it was defaced, is almost fabulous. The spoils of kingdoms were lavished on its construction, and many lives sacrificed to hurry on its completion. "Solomon! I have surpassed thee!" was the exclamation of the delighted emperor, as he prostrated himself before the high altar on the day of its consecration-the selfadulation of the man overcoming his seeming ardour in the service of God. The rest of the imperial mosques are all more or less after the plan of St. Sophia, which seems to have completely revolutionized the taste of the Moslem architects. Many of them are very large and handsome; and from being built by the Mussulmans, have their high altars placed in the middle of the wall, which obviates the awkwardness remarked in St. Sophia. It is a curious thing, that in St. Sophia, the image of our Saviour above the high altar is hardly defaced, and can be easily traced through the overlaid gilding. As it tells of former creeds, does it not point to the revival of the old faith? In the court of one of the mosques multitudes of sacred pigeons reside, and are fed by the faithful, who purchase food for them from a man in attendance, and far outdo in numbers the celebrated flocks of Venice. In the gallerics of nearly all the mosques are

stored the goods of pilgrims, enclosed in large trunks. If they return from their journey, they claim their merchandise; if they die, all is confiscated to the church-a novel sort of insurance. The worship is very curious, being in a great measure personal-each one praying for himself; but they unite in numbers, headed by a priest, who gives, as it were, the word of command, and all kneel, or rather prostrate themselves, and go through the other parts of their service as if by one impulse. Stroking their beards, turning the head to either side, putting the hands up to the side of the head, and the thumb under the lobe of the ear, or holding them out before their faces, as if they were reading from them, are attitudes which frequently occur in their service.

The old walls which surround Constantinople in double, and sometimes triple tire, are envious prizes for the painter. They have endless picturesque stones and angles on the sea-side, with curious old houses packed on their ragged summits. Landwards, the creeping ivy and clustering wild rose cover ditch and rampart. The massive towers are so funnily split from top to base, and lie either in huge masses in the ditch, or totter to their fall in such perfectly picturesque groupings, that hours insensibly pass as we walk or ride along them. The famous fortress of "the Seven Towers," along the garrison of the Janissaries, with its "place of skulls," forms a fitting termination to the circuit.

The fires of Constantinople have ever been a fruitful source of interest to the traveller, and taken a prominent part in his diary. The wooden houses do, in truth, look as if, in their fantastic rottenness, they were just built expressly to burn; and that if once set a-blaze, the whole city would go down like a hay rick. Being for some time here without hearing or seeing such a thing, I was becoming sceptical of their existence, except at long and uncertain intervals, and was disposed to appreciate them as travellers' myths, grotesquely told to end a chapter; but last night, the chorus of watchmen, who, with the accompaniment of beating the stones with iron-pointed staves, the more completely to awake you, bellowed out the long looked-for intimation, "Yanghun var!"-i. e., "There is a fire!" completely dissipated all my incredulity; and on looking out, there was a fire, and no mistake. A large manufactory close by was in flames; and as the watchmen kept on in the most impressive manner informing one of the fact, the thousand dogs of the neighbourhood raised up

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their voices and wept, remembering, pro- | if they growl or bite you-you would do bably, some favourite haunt which was the same on a less provocation. now being given over to the devouring Turks recently gave a curious example element. A perfect column of red flame of straining at the gnat and swallowing shot high into the murky sky, and spread the camel in the case of these poor dogs, itself on every side as it licked up the whose life they would no more take by miserable rickety houses around like wood shooting or drowning, than they would shavings. The effect on the landscape that of their dearest child; but they had was very fine. The Bosphorus and no hesitation in sending some thousands Golden Horn were lit up as by an un- of them to a desert island in the Sea of earthly light, which, as it rose and Marmora, where, without food or drink, fell, alternately flashed over them, and they were left to devour one another,shrouded them in deep darkness. These which I am told, they accomplished very fires do great damage, and often ruin the effectually. miserable inhabitants, who not unfrequently have their whole wealth in their dwellings; and now extensive ruins abound throughout the city attesting the fierceness of the fires, and the indolence or poverty of the inhabitants. By a recent regulation, all new buildings require to have a stone wall between every second house, so that the fires cannot now spread as they used to do; but there is still room for an immense deal of useful burnings before all the old rubbish of houses is cleared away.

SAILORS ON SHORE.

Of the heterogeneous collection of foreigners who at present crowd the streets of Constantinople, there is perhaps no class who appear more heartily to enjoy themselves than the sailors of the combined fleets. Day and night the whole city re-echoes with their bacchanalian shouts, and out of every coffeehouse rolls, in broken and hiccuped accents, the inharmonious chorus of their favourite sea ditties. As, linked The dogs are another unfailing item in arm in arm, they promenade the streets, the journal of travellers; and I fear that everything is chased away before them, this feature, too, will soon disappear. either through a wholesome fear which Byron made them poetical; and more re- they inspire, or the no less potent imcent writers, out of gratitude for their pulse of their headlong advance. The scavenging abilities, have added to their French have made themselves much renown. They, in fact, but too often more conspicuous for this distinguished form the sole item in Constantinopolitan acquirement than our men, ever since life with which many are acquainted be- the fleet came into these waters. Our fore they visit the Golden Horn. Speak worthy allies have certainly fully come of Constantinople, and your neighbour up, in this particular, to the panegyric will probably ask if it is not overrun by lately bestowed on them of doing "nowild dogs. A city of cypress trees and thing by halves," as they appear to me minarets, in which life and property are to get drunk, not by ones or twos, but not safe, and where dogs are omnipotent, by entire ships' crews. One day the forms the most received notion of Con- streets are deluged by the muddled stantinople. The truth is, however, that progeny of the "Valmy;" on the next the dogs, though without masters, and the heroes of the "Napoleon" take the confined, by certain understood rules of lead; while the crew of the flag-ship, the etiquette, esteemed among themselves, to "Ville de Paris," has out-Heroded all, particular streets or sections of the city, and seem to have become chronically are in reality well-disposed, though lazy and helplessly inebriated. Go where citizens. Whether it be that their man- you will, and at any hour, and you find ners have partaken of the improved amia- the streets barricaded with their prosbility which has of late been licked into trate bodies, and the kennel choked with all the members of society here by the their glazed hats. One never goes out new comers, or that they have been in but some amusing scene occurs. On a reality maligned, I know not; but I must late grand state occasion, the pet troops do them the justice to say, that they have of the Turkish garrison were paraded, never at any time shewn towards me and their band was "discoursing sweet that unhappy ferocity which has been music" to the assembled fashionables of usually ascribed to them. Give them a Constantinople. A drunken sailor stood sunny corner, or a cool pool of mud, and by, plastered against a neighbouring wall, they will never trouble you,-that is, his hands in his trousers' pockets, and a always supposing you do not insult them. short black pipe in his mouth. He conIf you tramp on their tails, or wake them tinued for some time to smile encouragfrom their first sleep at night by stum-ingly on the performance, till, roused by bling over their noses, you need not wonder some unlucky note which jarred his

artistic ear, he became suddenly pos-, the main street of Pera, when a Turkish sessed of most malevolent feelings, and cavass, or policeman, came up and tried launching himself amidst the performers to remove him. Jack took the "peeler" with irresistible force, just at the most critical part of the composition, he attacked first an unfortunate torturer of the trombone, and then dealt his delicate attentions around on the others, with hand and foot, till, after a few squeaks and grunts, the whole concert abruptly ended. Unfortunately, just at last our hero "caught a crab," as he himself poetically expressed it, in a futile attempt to kick the big drum; for, as his foot missed its mark, and flew up rather higher than its owner's equilibrium would permit, he landed in the mud-here no mere symbolic expression. Finally, he allowed himself to be borne away to the guard-house, with the resigned air of a martyr who had done his duty.

The Greeks are the great and declared enemies of the sailors, and many a bloody fight do they wage with one another. To cheat, thrash, and abuse the Greeks, is the great problem which engages the marine intellect, and tests its enterprise. Not a few of our tars have been killed in these encounters, as the Greeks almost always use their knives. As these Greeks are the lowest sharpers amidst a nation of cheats, it is no wonder poor Jack, on whom their talents are chiefly exercised, should entertain such a rooted antipathy for them. The alliance, offensive and defensive, between the French and English sailors is complete. Never was the entente cordiale more vigorously recognized. Though not understanding one word of each other's language, they roll about together conversing most fluently, if one may judge by the sage and solemn shakes of the head, and the frequent halts when they confront one another and shake hands, for a long time exclaiming "bono" now and then, to intimate their perfect satisfaction with one another. It generally ends by their marching off, probably to cement their friendship by drubbing some unhappy Greek. The Turks do not understand these worthies at all, and appear to look upon them with the fear we do on a wild beast,-desirous to propitiate them, but at a distance. Often you see a Turk embraced and hugged by a sailor in a sudden fit of friendship; and while he vainly endeavours not to appear at all frightened, the forced laugh and supplicating look for assistance, as well as the spasmodic manner in which he utters "bono," all testify to his very uncomfortable feelings. The other day an English sailor, more than "half-seas over," was making a fool of himself in

by the arm in the most friendly manner possible, and was marching away with him, yarning away at some long story, which was plentifully intermixed with vocal illustrations, till he got near the guard-house, where he all at once appeared to have woke up to a knowledge of his friend's true character. He immediately withdrew his arm, and after a few minutes' deep cogitation he fetched a round blow at the Turk, which hit pretty smartly against that official's thin sides, and at the same time quite exhausted his own already exhausted powers of resistance. The functionary's dignity was insulted, and his bones pained; and as he saw his victim could not do much more to oppose him, he began, in keeping with his true generic instinct, to use the sailor very roughly. A French soldier, who was passing, immediately seized a stick from a shop door, and flew to the rescue. The poor cavass was beaten most unmercifully, and notwithstanding that he carried a sword, and a whole lapful of different weapons, he forgot his propriety, and fairly ran. Greek and Turk shrunk to either side, and did not interfere. Jack, in the meantime, went into a shop, and, seating himself at the counter, waited the denouement with the utmost calmness. On his ally's return he swaggered off, singing something about a certain Susan.

In truth, nothing can possibly be conceived more opposed than a drunk sailor and a solemn sober Turk of the old school. They appear the very contradictions in human nature. One could as well picture a true Osmanli in his flowing pantaloons dancing a hornpipe, or whistling the last opera, as suppose he could have any community of feeling with a drunken English seaman.

(To be continued.)

WAR.

G. H. B. L.

We send our mandates for the certain death Of thousands and ten thousands! Boys and girls,

And women, that would groan to see a child
Pick off an insect's leg, all read of war,-
The best amusement for our morning meal!
The poor wretch, who has learnt his only

prayers

From curses, who knows scarcely words enough

To ask a blessing from his heavenly Father,
Becomes a fluent phraseman, absolute
And technical in victories and deceit,
And all our dainty terms for fratricide;

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