CHAPTER XVI.

THERAPIΑ.

March 7th.-THIS morning, a despatch arrived at the Embassy, from Lord John Russell, announcing the death of the Emperor Nicholas. The excitement caused by the news is great. The Greeks try to make out that it is the Empress who is dead, and not the Emperor. Those who are always talking about peaceand they are not a few-insist that it will certainly result from his death.

8th.-To pass the time, I went to Therapia for a few days. The great difficulty for any person unaccustomed to the steamers on the Bosphorus, is to find the right one, as no notices

are put up to inform people which is the boat for Therapia, and which for Scutari, &c. Not that this is to be wondered at, in a place where the streets are not named-the houses not numbered; and it is only of late, that the shop-keepers have taken to put their names and trades over their shops. There is no possibility of ascertaining, before-hand, the exact time steamers start; and they are never advertised. I tried to find out, previously, what time the boat, I wished to go by, would leave. All accounts differed. One said, halfpast two; another said, three; and a third, half-past three. I went down at three, and found it did not go till four. So much for information. It is wonderful how they get on at all here I shall enlarge upon this subject at a future opportunity.

The hills above Therapia, towards Belgrade, are covered with forest and brushwood-the latter consisting principally of arbutus, with heather, myrtle, and dwarf-holly; and the scenery is very pretty, all hill and valley, with constantly changing views of the Bosphorus and Black Sea. No doubt, it is very good

ground for woodcocks; but it is so extensive that dogs are absolutely necessary. The brushwood is chiefly on the hills; and the trees grow in copses in the valleys, and are beauti-ful cover for any kind of game, large or small.

12th. The weather being wet, I returned to Pera. At one station, Redschid Pasha came on board the steamer to go to Stamboul. He is a little man, rather bent, and his beard slightly tinged with grey. A number of Turks and natives were assembled to see him come out of his house, all bowing and saluting as he passed.

The inhabitants of this city of all races are a contemptible lot. None of the men seem to have any idea of what they are to do with their hands, save perpetually twiddling strings of beads. It is disgusting to see a full-grown man sitting in a state of perfect idleness for hours, except the great exertion of smoking, and passing these beads in rotation through his fingers.

It is a mistake to suppose that they are saying prayers; for both Turks and Greeks do it, and they continue it all day long. Even

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OUR DIGNIFIED ALLY.

when walking, they place their hands behind their backs, and twiddle the beads at the same time.

A fat old Turk, in his fez cap, like a red seal at the top of a thick bottle, in his semiEuropean costume-viz., a blue frock coat, with standing collar, tightly buttoned; badly cut trowsers, of some grotesque pattern-large below, so as nearly to cover his feet, and strapped inside his shoes, which are slipshod, so that he can kick them off in an instant; his head nearly buried in his immense shoulders, with an attendant at each side to support him if he walks, and several others following him -one carrying a bag containing writing materials, another his pipe-sticks and the everlasting umbrella is an average specimen, in Constantinople, of what many have so often called a dignified Turk.

When the weather is not fine, all go about with their heads covered up in hoods and shawls, like old women with the toothache.

This country, or rather the people, try one's patience sorely, and wear it out eventually, no matter how durable it may originally have been.

A TOWER OF BABEL.

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Constantinople is a very Tower of Babel for a variety of languages; and it is, consequently, very confusing, as one never knows what language one may require to use, and it is impossible to learn all. In a country where only one language is in constant use, any person must be very stupid who does not master enough of it in a short time to get along with; but here it is totally different. Every tongue is more or less current. English, French, Greek, Italian, and Turkish are most common; and, besides these, German, Arabic, Persian, Armenian, Bulgarian, Sclavonic, and other languages are in constant use. You ask a question in one tongue, and get a reply in another; and two or three languages are frequently mixed in one sentence.

Pantomimic action is the natural accompaniment of all Eastern languages; but it varies in its character with every race. Of all the natives of the East, the Turk alone is master of a slow, deliberate order of gesticulation, which is either indescribably diverting or provoking, according to the humour of the traveller. Other races are content to intimate