One of the prettiest sights here are the caiques dancing on the waves in the "Golden Horn" in every direction. They are in form like our Indian canoes, sharp at both ends, long and narrow, and much ornamented with pretty carving, though without paint. They have no seats, and you place yourself in the bottom, and are so light that you must give warning when you would change from one side to the other, lest in an unguarded moment you topple the boat over. These boats are in the place of carriages, of which there are but few and until lately none, and it is said they number no less than eighty thousand. Another of these places with beautiful names is the " Valley of Sweet Waters," where they go to pass their fête and holidays, and being at some distance, the women go in a gilded cart, with a canopy over the top, drawn by oxen. I intend to have a ride in one before I leave. I was conveyed from the steamer to our lodgings in a palanquin, two men sustaining it behind, and one before. The Turkish women, dressed like those in Smyrna, with their feridgee of green, and notwithstanding that they could not be seen, made use of their own eyes, and stretched themselves in every way to get a view of the interior of my unique conveyance.

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FIRE TOWERS-CEMETERIES- SWEETWATERS OF EUROPE"

-ROYAL BURIAL PLACE-THE

SULTAN CURIOUS WO

MEN-DOGS-DERVISHES-SAIL UP THE BOSPHORUS-DR. WOLFE-VISIT TO ALI BEY-INTERIOR OF HIS HAREMCONVERSATION WITH HIS WIVES.

ON one excursion we mounted a high tower-the fire tower of Galata, from which the alarm of fire is given, as well as information in what part of the city it has commenced. There are others at each extremity of the Golden Horn, and these towers, like the minarets, are of uniform circumference till within a few feet of the top, when like. them they taper to a point, the tapering part being painted black, and surmounted by a gilt crescent. From their summits you have a most extensive view of the city, its beautiful waters and lovely environs. Our road to the tower lay through the extensive cemetery near our lodgings in Pera, giving us therefore an opportunity of viewing more closely one of these Turkish cities of the dead. Thousands who once, like us, gazed upon these enchanting scenes, were sleeping beneath the green turf pressed by our feet, their dark and dreary tenements as thickly clustered as the habitations of the living surrounding them. These cemeteries, some more extensive than others, are all alike in other respects, filled with the tall dark funeral cypress, seemingly the mournful sentinels of the dead, keeping their lonely watch over the silent sleepers beneath the green turf, which their tall shadows darken, as if they still mourn

ed those forgotten by the living. They seem to be thoroughfares to all, and are in summer much resorted to as places of enjoyment, where the inhabitants of this great city repair and seat themselves on the green and verdant carpet of nature's weaving, to chat, laugh, and eat ices and fruits. The crowded pillars, with various head pieces, denote the rank of those who sleep below, while a plain white painted slab, with sometimes a simple rose, marks the resting place of one of the gentler sex, while many other are richly gilt or gaily painted. Now and then a temple-like building forms a mausoleum for some modern Dives, and on the steps of one, Major G. and myself seated ourselves, sheltered from wind and shaded from sun, awaiting the return of Mr. C. and our dragoman Demetrius, who had gone to procure some refreshments and warmer clothing, as we had found the weather so promising in descending the tower that we resolved to take a caique and go to the "Sweet Waters of Europe," a lovely valley, one of the favorite places here of resort to people of all nations. While awaiting their return, we saw at a short distance, a number of men bearing a body to the tomb. They do not put the dead in coffins, but place the body on aplank, and cover it with light thin boards, over which is thrown a gay looking pall. They believe the soul is suffering from the time it leaves the body until it is buried, and therefore the burial takes place as soon as possible, and the men walk at a very hurried pace while conveying it to the grave, believing, too, that he who carries a body forty paces procures for himself expiation for a great crime. They never open a grave to bury another, and dig it but two feet deep, so as literally to verify the antique wish, "May the earthrest lightly on him." It is their custom also to plant a tree at the birth and another at the death, of each member of a family, and a cypress is always planted at the head of a Moslem's grave, the aro

matic odor of which is supposed to do away the effects of pestilential vapors naturally consequent on burying so closely together, and so near the surface, as is the custom here. These cities of the dead, with their groves of cypress, are marked and distinguishing features of a Turkish city. Sailing along the Golden Horn we stopped at Eyoub, where is a beautiful mosque, erected to Eyoub, or Job, the prophet or companion of Mahomet. The court-yard was filled with beautiful roses and other flowers in full bloom, but there was no admittance into this Mahometan Holy of Holies for the Giaour. Here the Sultan Mahmoud II., the Lion-Hearted, was girded with the royal sabre by Mollah Hunkier one of the Meolevea Dervishes with whom the office is hereditary, and who was at the time only seven years old; and here is usually held the coronation of the sultans, the Westminster Abbey of the Byzantic city. We went into the court of the mosque and gathered some of the beautiful roses grow. ing in profusion there, to which no objection was made, but when we approached the other side of the Mosque, and drew as near as we dared to get a view of the interior, we found we could see only an inner sort of court in which grew an immense tree, and asking our dragoman if money would not here as elsewhere gain us admittance, he begged us not to make the experiment. A venerable looking old Mussulman with his long white beard and flowing robes came forward, saying we could gain entrance to other mosques, but to this no christian was ever admitted." Near the mosque is a sort of royal cemetery, containing the mausoleum of the unfortunate Selim who was murdered by his cousin, the brother of the late Mahmoud, and who was afterwards himself murdered by Mahmoud. He is here interred with two of his wives in richly ornamented huge coffins, covered with rich palls, and enclosed by magnificent railings of mother of pearl. The walls are richly decorated

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with large gold Turkish characters, and around the enclosure, on low stands, at short intervals, is placed the Koran covered with a green baize. All this you see by looking through the gilt lattice of the octagonal temple containing the mausoleum itself. Opposite, with a street intervening between, we entered an extensive enclosure, the burial place of the Pachas, rich in marble, gaily painted and gilt, made more beautiful still by the quantity and profusion of roses and creeping vines it contained. A mausoleum containing the remains of some of the present sultan's relatives and friends, and a beautiful marble fountain in the form of a temple with gilded lattices, complete the interesting and beautiful collection in the suburb of Eyoub. We proceeded on our way to the Sweet Waters of Europe, a pleasing resort for the haut-ton of Pera, during the warm season, but such places, calculated for the gay throng, have always a desolate appearance at that season of the year when they are deserted. Here is a mosque, a kiosk, and a harem, but now all shut up and empty, and no one to open unto us, and so after walking about these pleasant haunts for a short time, we returned home again, having a fine view of the city as we approached. I enjoyed most, the sail up and down the Golden Horn, of whose beauties one can never tire. The sultan has some beautiful ships of war at anchor here, with three or four tier of guns, fine vessels, but no sailors. In the midst of these grim monsters of the deep is a beautiful fairy like steam boat presented by Mehemet Ali a short time since to the sultan. It is as gay as paint and gold can make it, the after deck hung with rich hangings of green brocade, (the royal color,) trimmed with gold lace and bullion fringe, while the awning in front is crimson silk with the same rich trimmings. The interior of the cabin is fitted up in the richest style, and over the sultan's seat is his name in Turkish characters set in diamonds.