"By the soul of Mithridates and the deeds of Thermopolæ!" chimed in the scion of the "isles of Greece," catching the instinctively-intelligible contagion of the sportive moment.
"And what said Uncle Hal?" you wonder, perhaps. Oh, I was listening to the low, melancholy, semi-howl in which the imperturbable Moslems were slowly chanting "Güzal! pek güzal!"[7] as they turned their dull eyes lingeringly towards their fast-receding mosques and minarets.
But, meeting the questioning glances of my companions, as their mirth began to subside, I contributed my humble quota to the general stock of fun by saying, with extreme gravity of voice and manner:
"When will wonders cease in the Golden Horn! At first, even its unquestionable antiquity did not redeem this vessel from my contempt—now I consider it an 'irresistible duck!'—and I wish, moreover, to publish my conviction that, though barbarous in matters of literature and art, the Turks impressively teach their boastful superiors a religious respect for cleanliness."
I remember to have been singularly impressed, when I read it, with an anecdote somewhat as follows:
As too frequently happens on such occasions, a discussion in relation to some insignificant matter, into which a large party of men, who had dined together, and were lingering late over their wine, had fallen, gradually increased in vehemence and obstinacy of opinion, until frenzied excitement ruled the hour.
"From words they almost came to blows,
When luckily"
the attention of one of the most furious of the disputants was suddenly arrested by the
appearance of one of the gentlemen present. There was no angry flush on his brow, no "laughing devil" in his eye, and he sat quietly regarding the scene before him, serene and self-possessed as when he entered the apartment hours before. His astonished companion inquired the cause of such placidity, in the midst of anger and turbulence.