there is even no rashness, no imprudence, in looking steadily at the future, seeing coming evils from afar, and now making a stand, not for the simple independence of the Ottoman empire, but for the independence of Western Europe. This is not, what Earl Grey called it, knight-errantry; it is the instinct of selfpreservation, which is as strong and wise in nations as in individuals.

Lord John Russell, in the House of Commons, has fully abandoned his old colleague and friend, to whom he once seemed to be inseparably associated. It is evident that he attributes the difficulties of his late administration to Earl Grey, and some of the terse sentences of the leader of the House of Commons are keen replies to his ex-colonial Secretary. When told that the "son of the author of the Great Reform Bill" disapproved of introducing another scheme of the same kind, Lord John showed some asperity, and was blandly acrimonious on the Monday evening, as he expounded the new measure. Whenever the noble member for the City of London is displeased, his voice sharpens, the aristocratic twang is more perceptible, his figure stiffens, and his air bespeaks confidence. Mr. Punch has never thought of sketching Lord John in his altitudes, when, with arms a-kimbo, curling lip, and his broadest dialect, he majestically turns to his followers below the gangway, and breathes defiance to his enemies. As in answer to Earl Grey and others, he spoke of proceeding with his Reform Bill even at the moment when we were likely to be engaged in a war extending to every part of the globe; as he thus showed himself prepared to face not only a war with Russia, but also a war of classes in England, and to run the risk of a dissolution of parliament, and a ministerial resignation, Lord John rose to the height of heroism; and as he said that "this idea that we should be unable to attend to domestic reform when war should be declared, is, I confess, one of those thoughts which may be described as having in it only one part of wisdom, and three parts of cowardice," and continued to observe even in more decided tones, " and I must say it does not affect me!" it must be confessed that Lord John displayed the most indisputable courage, and was a most striking example of the moral sublime.

But he has advanced from victory to victory. His exertions during these three weeks of the session have fully borne out the evidence of the political renovation which he exhibited in the debate on the Address. There is now no talk of Lord John going up to the House of Lords; there are now no hints of Mr. Gladstone superseding him in the leadership of the House of Commons. He has astonished everybody by his vigour and eloquence; he even appears astonished himself at the marvellous ascendancy he has again acquired in little more than a fortnight. Even in the debate on Friday, the 17th,-the latest day to which this notice can extend this mouth-Lord John Russell made a most able and effective oration, which was cheered by all parties.

Mr. Layard was most attentively listened to, and he certainly did, as he said, " make out his case." While he was speaking, the

house was crowded, and ministers were clearly anything but pleased with the keen criticism of the member for Aylesbury. He has a perfect right to take a prominent place in these discussions, not only because, as one writer sneeringly observed, he has been at Nineveh, but because much of his time has been spent in the study of the Eastern problem. He has been for a short while an Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and was previously, I believe, also connected with our embassy at Constantinople. Sir James Graham made a great mistake in replying in the manner he did to Mr. Layard. He lost his temper, and once again laid aside "discretion." "Why pother about Blue-books," asked the first Lord of the Admiralty, with the most stolid effrontery. Members stared at one another, as they well might. Had not the Blue-book just been laid upon the table by the command of her Majesty? Had not ministers during all the last session asked the House to wait until the information was officially produced before expressing its opinion? And now, when the Bluebook had been printed and placed in the hands of all honourable members, they were told in solemn tones by one of the ministers, leaning upon his walking-stick and looking unusually grave, not to "pother" about it, but set to work at once and vote the estimates!

It is seldom that Sir James blunders, but unquestionably he does so now and then. Lord John Russell, sitting by his side, saw what had been done, and at length came to the rescue. This first attempt of Sir James to be the "crusher in general" of the Coalition ministry, as he was of the Peel administration, decidedly failed. Times are now much changed from what they were ten years ago. In this truce of parties a coalition ministry must be conciliatory; and even the versatile Baronet, who is administrative ability personified, cannot be permitted to be self-complacently insulting. Mr. Disraeli saw at once the error of the supercilious minister; the adjournment of the debate was the result; and it is not unlikely but that the best speeches on our foreign policy may be yet to come. Lord Palmerston has hitherto preserved his provoking silence; and this evening Mr. Disraeli will have full licence for his sarcastic abilities. So successful have ministers been thus far in the session, that it is evident Sir James Graham thinks himself and his friends safe from all attacks; but they must not be too confident. They have at least one sharp-sighted and readywitted adversary who, though he may not defeat them, can yet render them ludicrous. By their own admission, too, they have unquestionably committed errors in their diplomacy; and however excusable such mistakes may be in general, they are less excusable in a cabinet containing no less than five ministers who have been Secretaries for Foreign Affairs, and two of whom are the most experienced of European statesmen. A ministry in which we see both Aberdeen and Palmerston supported by Granville, Clarendon, and Russell, surely ought not to be outwitted by even the diplomatists of Russia. Sir James Graham's exhibition was therefore exceedingly ill-timed; and it is not unlikely that tonight Mr. Disraeli may turn it to account.

Feb. 20.

CONSTANTINOPLE, ITS SUPPLY AND DEFENCE; WITH A GLANCE AT THE CRIMEA.

THE greatest personal contrast in Turkey is that between a Mussulman of the old school, of traditional creed and ideas, and a gentleman-he can scarcely be called a Mussulman-who has been bred in Europe, and who wears narrow trousers and varnished boots. It was my fortune to be introduced one day to two eminent Turkish functionaries, each of whom was a capital specimen of the schools to which they belonged. The palace inhabited by each most fully corresponded to the ideas of the respective tenants-tenants, we may well say, for no one is proprietor of anything, except what is actually within his grasp. All possession in Turkey, even that of life, is leasehold, and terminable at will-that is, at the will of a master.

My more or less Europeanised Turk I found in the offices of what is called the Sublime Porte, a range of buildings with fine steps, fine columns, regularly laid out in architectural style, strongly contrasting with the wooden konaks and the tall minarets around-a kind of Somerset House planted in the midst of the old city of the Turk, very near to the gates of the Seraglio, from which it takes its name, and looking down upon St. Sophia. Such a range of ministerial offices as the Sublime Porte would in England have been well stocked by stately porters, busy clerks, and people hurrying to and fro on the business of the day. But this central seat of Turkish administration was lonely as the desert, without a menial, or a slave, or attendant, or even a sentry. Surely this was not Turkey, where every door is thought to be guarded by a slave, white or black, and where great men could only be approached through court-yards and corridors full of retainers. There were no signs of such life. I wandered and shouted in vain through the empty halls, and at last, pushing open a door, stumbled into the office I sought. Two or three young gentlemen in fezes had tables and writing materials at hand. Their occupation was the twisting and smoking of cigarettes, which struck me to be as complete a parody on the chibouque as the red scull-cap was of the respectable and voluminous turban.

I found my young and fat official as unlike what he had been in Paris and in London as could be well imagined. Actual and continual dwellers in those capitals are not always aware that they live in an atmosphere highly charged with excitement, which, as a kind of electricity, quickens their movements, leaps from their eyes, accentuates their speech, and communicates to them that fastness which is difficult to account for, and which none can imitate elsewhere. Here in Constantinople it was all gone. The tongue was mute, the eye was leaden, the manner ceremonious, the ideas-it is bleeding a turtle at any time to extract ideas from a Turk; and an Europeanised Turk was, in this respect, as good a

Turk as his elders. After all, perhaps it was want of topics. Constantinople has no society, no theatre, no common friend, no public character, save the ministers and pashas, and these, in the present instance, it would have been high indecorum to mention, much less discuss their character and conduct. I could plainly perceive that my quondam acquaintance and present interlocutor was puzzling his brain to devise in what manner he could be useful to me, or procure me information or entertainment. But there was no_possibility of the kind, and he evidently gave up the quest.

It was but a step from the Sublime Porte to the ancient Hippodrome or modern Atmeidan, across which was my path to visit the other functionary, who resided in an old Turkish official residence. It covered a large space of ground, being originally built of only one story, surrounded with those tent-like roofs, and kiosklike towers, so purely Turkish, and so fast disappearing from European Turkey. It stood opposite to one of the most revered mosques in Constantinople, which was also old and of no great size. Between the palace and the mosque was a great thoroughfare, just issuing from the Bazaar, and a crowd of led horses around, showed that numerous Turks had come to see the great functionary. Amidst the horses and the visitors to the palace, and the devotees entering the mosque, the same persons generally performing the two duties, wheeled an army of pigeons, some thousands of them, flying from mosque to palace, and from palace to mosque, descrying in an instant when any pious Moslem came prepared to feed the sacred birds, whereupon they pounced down around him more like myriads of insects or locusts, than like birds.

I entered the old one-storied and scrambling palace, which happened also to be a prison for the immurement of persons on their first arrest. And this mixture of Bow-street and St. James's, though perfectly Turkish, struck me, on being admitted by the guard into the entrance, as very barbarous and disgusting. The great man, however, no doubt thought it enhanced his dignity, on the same principle that the chief executioner was always in attendance on the Sultan's progress, and not far removed from his person.

The little rooms that served as antechambers to the Pasha, were not like those of his colleague at the Sublime Porte, vast and empty; on the contrary, they were diminutive, but well-filled by retainers, soldiers, tschaousches, and a perfect motley of courtiers. The functionary, whom I now sought, was no higher in rank than his colleague of the Sublime Porte, but being of the old school, court was paid to him by the old Turks in the old way, and he kept his state, not after the retired and moderate habits of Europe, but with all the display of the reign of Solyman the Magnificent.

The Pasha was not old. He had risen by his good looks to the favour of Mahmoud, a relation of whom he had married. Like every prosperous Turk, he was fat, and with a comely brow, which he knit, however, from time to time, very unlike that boasted impassibility of manner, of which the old Turks are accused. It is need

less here to explain why or how my conversation with that functionary turned upon the supply of Constantinople with water, which at that time was woefully defective. There were a great many projects, in fact, for organizing a sufficient supply, and a great many proposals and plans had been sent to the minister, whose especial care was the health, provision, and peace of the capital. The public functionary of the old school was opposed to all these plans, which he declared were only devices in order to empty the Imperial Treasury into the pockets of ingenious Franks. Young Turkey, on the contrary, was anxious that the plans should be carried out, and that the first necessary of life should be in greater abundance than at present.

The sudden and serious illness of a friend, made me interest myself in the matter, which I did not regret, as it led me not only into contact and discussion with various characters and personages, and enabled me to observe somewhat of the old rusty machinery of Ottoman administration.

Constantinople was never intended by nature, one might say, to be the capital of a great Mohamedan empire. For the first requisite to a Mussulman is water, and Constantinople is by nature the spot worst supplied with fresh water of any, that ever was or could be chosen. I heard the remark made in the very beard of the Turks, who, themselves, seemed nowise affected by it. God was great! and He had given them Constantinople, which was a power and a decision infinitely superior to those of Nature. But a doctor, who was present, observed that the observation proceeded from a very foolish and a very ignorant man, as Mohamedanism itself was born in a country which was blessed with no water, and where it was a still greater luxury and scarcity than at Constantinople.

Be this as it may, the present capital of Turkey is naturally unprovided with water. There is no part of it, that is not within a short distance of the sea, and there are no grounds higher than it within any distance. A supply of water from wells and springs was therefore never to be hoped. The Cæsars remedied the defect by excavating the greater part of the rising ground, or hills, on which Constantinople stands, and making spacious caverns, supported on columns, to serve as immense cisterns for water. Some of these are now dry. That portion near the Seraglio is used as an underground place for spinning silk by hand. And there are compartments, full of bones, walled off, the relics of plague and massacre. But the greater portion of the old cisterns. have water in them, water unchanged for centuries—a kind of Dead Sea within the bowels of the capital, forming a subterranean lagune, running between endless rows of pillars, which defy curiosity to penetrate. Miss Pardoe has well described this place, and recounted the adventures of a young Englishman, who set forth in a boat with torches to explore the watery recesses, but who never returned. These vast reservoirs of water, now unfit for use, rendered Constantinople independent of external supply during all its ancient sieges. But if, at the present day,