marked by trees, were scattered here and there. Above the point of this land which formed a semi-circular curve before us, we discerned some of the minarets of Constantinople.

At eight o'clock, a galley-boat came along-side of us. As we were almost becalmed, I quitted the felucea, and went with my people into the boat. We kept close under point Europa, on which now stands the castle of the Seven Towers, an old Gothic fortress now falling to ruin. Constantinople, and the coast of Asia in particular, were enveloped in a thick fog: the cypresses and the minarets, which I perceived through the vapour, exhibited the appearance of a leafless forest. As we approached the point of the Seraglio, a breeze sprung up from the north, and as if by the waving of an enchanter's wand, the mist was swept in a few moments from the picture, and I found myself all at once in the midst of the palaces of the Commander of the Faithful. Before me the channel of the Black Sea, meandered like a majestic river between charming hills: on my right I had the coast of Asia and the city of Scutari; that of Europe lay on my left, forming, as it receded, a capacious bay full of large ships at anchor, and innumerable small vessels traversing it in every direction. This bay, bounded by two hills, presented a view of Constantinople and Galata; disposed in the form of an amphitheatre. The immense extent of these three cities of Galata, Constantinople, and Scutari, with their buildings rising in stages one above another; the cypresses, the minarets, the masts of ships intermingled on every side; the verdure of the trees; the colours of the houses white and red; the sea spreading its blue expanse below these objects and the sky its azure canopy above, altogether formed a picture, that filled me with admiration. It must indeed be allowed that those are guilty of no exaggeration, who assert that Constantinople exhibits a view superior in beauty to any in the world.*

We landed at Galata. I immediately remarked the bustle on the quays, and the throng of porters, merchants, and seamen, the latter announcing by the different colour of their complexions, by the diversity of their languages, and of their dress, by their robes, their hats, their caps, their turbans, that they had come from

For my part, however, I prefer the bay of Naples.

every part of Europe and Asia to inhabit this frontier of two worlds. The almost total absence of women, the want of wheel carriages, and the multitude of dogs without masters, were the three distinguishing characteristics that first struck me in the interior of this extraordinary city. As scarcely any person walks abroad but in slippers, as there is no rumbling of coaches and carts, as there are no bells and scarcely any trades that require the aid of the hammer, a continual silence prevails. You see arouud you a mute crowd of individuals, seemingly desirous of passing unperceived, as if solicitous to escape the observation of a master. You are continually meeting with a bazar and a cemetery, as if the Turks were born only to buy, to sell, and to die. The cemeteries, without walls, and situated in the middle of the streets are magnificent groves of cypresses; the doves build their nests in these trees and share the peace of the dead. Here and there you perceive antique structures harmonizing neither with the modern inhabitants, nor with the new edifices by which they are surrounded: you would almost imagine that they had been transported into this oriental city by the effect of enchantment. No sign of joy, no appearance of comfort meets your eye. What you see is not a people, but a herd tended by an iman and slaughtered by a janissary. Here is no pleasure but sensual indulgence, no punishment but death. The dull tones of a mandoline sometimes issue from the extremity of a coffeeroom, and you perceive the children of infamy performing immodest dances before a kind of apes seated around small circular tables. Amidst prisons and bagnios rises a seraglio, the capitol of slavery: 'tis here that a consecrated keeper carefully preserves the germs of pestilence and the primitive laws of tyranny. Pallid votaries are incessantly hovering about this temple, and thronging to offer their heads to the idol. Hurried on by a fatal power, nothing can divert them from this sacrifice. The eyes of the despot attrack the slaves, as the looks of the serpent are said to fascinate the birds on which he preys.

There are so many accounts of Constantinople, that it would be absurd in me to pretend to give a description of that city. The reader may, therefore, consult Stephen of Byzantium; Gylli de Topographia Constantinopoleos; Ducange's Constantinopolis Christiana; Porter's observations on the Religion, &c. of the

Turks; Mouradgea d'Ohsson's Tableau de l'Empire Ottoman ; Dallaway's Ancient and Modern Constantinople; Paul Lucas; Thevenot: Tournefort; lastly, the Voyage pittoresque de Constantinople et des Rives du Bosphore; the fragments published by M. Esmenard, &c. &c.

There are several inns at Pera which resemble those of the other cities of Europe; to one of these inns I was conducted by the porters, who officiously seized my baggage. I then repaired to the French palace. I had the honour of seeing at Paris general Sebastiani, ambassador from France to the Porte: he insisted on my dining every day at his table: and it was only on my earnest solicitation, that he permitted me to remain at my inn.. By his directions, the Messrs. Franchini, the chief drogmans to the embassy, procured the firmans necessary for my voyage to Jerusalem, which the ambassador accompanied with letters addressed to the superior of the religious in the Holy Land, and to our consuls in Egypt, and in Syria. Fearing lest I should run short of money, he gave me permission to draw bills upon him at sight whenever I might have occasion; and adding to these important services the attentions of politeness, he condescended to show me Constantinople himself, and to conduct me to the most remarkable structures. His aids-de-camp and the whole legation showed me so many civilities that I was absolutely put to the blush; and I deem it my duty to express in this place my unfeigned gratitude to those gentlemen.

I know not how to speak of another person whom I ought to have mentioned the first. Her extreme kindness was accompanied with a moving and pensive grace, which seemed to be a presentiment of what was to follow: she was nevertheless happy, and a particular circumstance heighthened her felicity. I myself shared that joy which was so soon to be converted into mourning. When I left Constantinople Madame Sebastiani was in bloom of health, hope, and youth; and before my eyes again beheld our country, she was incapable of hearing the expression of my gratitude:

Troja infelice sepultum

Detinet extremo terra aliena solo.

At this very time a deputation from the fathers of the Holy Fand happened to be at Constantinople. They had repaired thi

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