BANKS OF THE DARDANELLES.
Next morning, after breakfast we came in sight of Constantinople; at ten a.m. we passed the Seven Towers on our left, with Seraglio Point just before us; at 10.30 we cast anchor with hundreds of other vessels at the mouth of the Golden Horn. Steam ferry-boats of the English kind were passing to and fro, and caiques flitted in and out with the dexterity and swiftness of a sea-gull. As we cast anchor, a small brig coming down stream ran foul of us on the starboard bow, snap and crash went her bowsprit and yard, causing considerable damage to our bulwarks and stays; this accident detained us two hours. The stream runs so swiftly down the channel that vessels frequently ran foul, sometimes causing serious damage. We notice passing back and forward from Stamboul to Pera, caiques with Turkish women wearing white clothes, and staring at us out of two black holes in their yashmak. At twelve o'clock we weighed anchor and continued our course through the Bosphorus. The scenery is of almost unrivalled beauty and the panorama of which Constantinople forms the principal part, is such as is perhaps nowhere else to be seen in the world.
A TURKISH LADY.
As we proceeded up the stream and looked back, the view of the Marmora, as we leave it behind, is very fine. On the opposite Asiatic shore Mount Olympus, 8,800 feet high, with its snow-crowned summit fades away into the blue of the heavens, while the Imperial Palace of the Seraglio, St. Sophia's Mosque, and others of less proportions, stud the banks in unbroken lines from the very foot of the forts which command the entrance up to the crowning glory of the scene, where the Imperial City of Constantine, rising in many coloured terraces from the verge of the Golden Horn, confuses the eye with its numerous gardens, cypresses, mosques and palaces, its masses of foliage and red roofs surmounted by snow-white minarets with golden tops. The residences of the Pashas, the Imperial palaces of the Sultan, and the retreats of opulence, line these favoured shores. As the ship ran along we could see the Turks sitting cross-legged like tailors on their verandahs smoking away and looking as like each other as if they were twins. The windows of these houses are closely latticed and fastened, but here and there can be seen a white-faced lady, with gay coloured robe, peeping through the jalousies, showing that the harem is occupied by the fair sex. These dwellings succeed each other the whole length of the Bosphorus, and at places such as Buyukdere they are numerous enough to form large villages, provided with hotels, shops, and lodging houses.
THE SULTAN'S PALACE, SERAGLIO POINT.
The Turks delight in sitting out on the platform over the water while they smoke their chibouque, and the greatest object of Turkish ambition is to enjoy the pleasure of a residence on the banks of the Bosphorus. These waters abound in fish, and shoals of porpoises and dolphins disport on its surface, splashing and playing about with ease as they swim against its rapid stream.
I noticed the Turks never took the least notice of us as we arrived; so we departed in silence, and, as far as the Turks were concerned, in solitude. The boatmen scarcely turned their heads to look at the majestic steamer with her deck covered with British troops, crossing the broad, rough, and stormy seas to fight for these lazy, indifferent orientals, who would scarcely turn their heads to look at us, much less give us a cheer as we departed from the Sultan's Sublime Porte.
