slowly consumed in vases of marble and gold, filling the air with their fragrance mingled with that of the flowers.

At night all these scenes were illumined by countless lamps suspended from imperceptible threads; and this illumination is still perpetuated by the Turks in the Feast of Tulips, the favorite flower of the nation. In the midst of this terrestrial paradise rose a kiosk, composed entirely, within and without, of Venetian glass, which reflected from every side the birds, the flowers, the trees, the fountains, and the suspended lights. Between its crystal arches hung silken cords, to which were attached large globes of delicately carved silver, and the typical horse-tails. A silver divan surrounded the principal hall, in the midst of which a fountain shot up its jets of perfumed water. This was the favorite resort of Sultan Achmet. Here he wrote and painted the vellum manuscripts, which are still shown in the turbe or tomb which contains his coffin. In a subsequent revolution this Eden was ravaged by the enraged populace, who spared nothing which they could destroy. The luxurious shade, the soothing splash of the fountains, and the unrivaled landscape which remain are enough for the happiness of a Turk who is remarkable for his taste for the picturesque. One of the select spots of these royal domains is the fountain of roses. Here the ladies of the harem cluster upon the velvet turf beneath the shelter of the overhanging trees, in the indolent repose of the Orient, which is so well understood by the animal kingdom that groups of deer are frequently seen fearlessly grazing amid flocks of doves which flutter around the very feet of the fair loungers.

But we linger too long in these enchanted gardens. I have omitted many of the details of the seraglio; but are they not written in the books of travelers, whose name is legion? I forgot also to tell you how many times we were slippered, unslippered, and reslippered during our progress from the sacred spots to others less sacred; nor how many times we waited for the officers who conducted us to perform their devotions as the cry of the muezzin resounded from the heights of the minarets.

Some one has defined the Turk as a being who smokes and prays. His religion is by no means a weekly affair, to be

finished up in one day of the seven, while the remainder of his life is unmarked by its influences. No matter how he is engaged, on foot or on horseback, at sea or ashore, standing or sitting, eating or drinking, buying or selling, writing or reading, singing or studying, sleeping or waking, no sooner does the call to prayer strike upon his ear than he spreads his strip of carpet, falls upon his knees, and fervently pronounces his devotions. At the five divisions of the day the faithful followers of the prophet may be seen thus at prayer. We infidels may have our own ideas of the character of Mohammed and the influence of the religion which he propagated; but no sincere worshiper of the true God can fail to be touched with the apparently earnest devotion of these followers of false guides. The pious Mussulman who becomes familiar with our home-life cannot but form an unfavorable impression of our religious habits, of which he sees no outward indication, save in our heavenward pointing spires and our Sabbath gatherings. It is undoubtedly true that false religions have much more adaptation to the low tastes of the masses than the more spiritual and abstract truths of Christianity. The false prophet displayed wonderful sagacity in the conformation of his simple theories to the barbarous dispositions of the times and people.

St.

It is not a little singular, however, that the most magnificent temple of Mussulman worship is one which owes its existence to the first royal patron of the Christian Church, Constantine the Great, and that it still bears the name under which it was consecrated to the Christian faith. Sophia was not, as most people suppose, dedicated to a particular saint of that name, but to a Greek personification of divine wisdom. The original chapel of Constantine was erected to St. Sophia, "the wisdom of the uncreated Word." But time would fail to tell of all the changes it has undergone, the earthquakes which have shaken it, the fires which have consumed it, the emperors who have reconstructed and made additions to it. The present magnificent edifice was built by Justinian, in the sixth century; but it has since been subjected to many repairs and alterations. It is said that the emperor would have overlaid the floor with solid gold had not his wise men predicted its dilapidation by his successors. But he was

so delighted at its completion that he exclaimed, "I have outdone thee, O Solomon." St. Sophia was used as a Christian temple until the 29th of May, 1453, when, after a siege of fifty-three days, the triumphant Mohammed II. rode up the marble pavement attended by his officers, who are described by a Byzantine historian as robust as Hercules, dexterous as Apollo, and equal to ten of the ordinary race of mortals. The imprint of the conqueror's bloody hand long remained, it is said, upon

the marble wall. The high altar upon which he seated himself and smoked, and prayed, has been replaced by a slab of red marble; but above it is still suspended the carpet, now a mere rag, which he had brought from Mecca to hang up in St. Sophia in token of its subjection to the Mohammedan faith. On the same day the ezin, or public invitation to prayer, was sounded from the loftiest turret, and thus the magnificent Christian temple became a Mussulman mosque.

The chief glory and wonder of St. Sophia is its heaven - suspended dome, which seems, unsupported as it is by arch or column, to be pending from the skies. It is one hundred and eighty feet in height, and around its center, inscribed in the graceful Arabic character, is a passage from the Koran: "God is the light of the heavens and the earth. His wisdom is a light on the wall, in which burns a lamp covered with glass. The glass shines like a star:

the lamp is lit with the oil of a blessed tree. No eastern, no western oil-it shines for whosoever wills." Much of the grand effect of this magnificent temple is spoiled by innumerable colored lamps, ostrich eggs, crystal vases and globes, and artificial horse-tails, suspended from the ceiling, within a few feet of the floor.

The inauguration of the mosque, after its last renovation by the brothers Foscati, was a great event in Constantinople, not

only for the oriental pomp with which it was celebrated, but for the unheard-of innovations which marked the ceremonial. The procession consisted of the usual display of dignitaries, in magnificent costumes, all of whom, however, were on foot, in token of respect to the double character of the spiritual and temporal chieftainship of the sultan. His majesty alone was mounted, and he rode a snow-white steed, glittering like himself with the richest gems and gold workmanship of the East. Near the mosque were drawn up the gilded arabas, containing the brother of the sultan, the queen-mother, and the wives and children of the imperial household. On his arrival at the door of St. Sophia, the sultan was received by the highpriests of the faith, and the two brothers whose talents had achieved this great architectural triumph. It was an unprecedented honor to confer upon an infidel;

but the sultan had insisted that those who had rendered his capital such a vast service should not be excluded from a public participation in the religious ceremonials of the day. The honors heaped upon the two brothers did not stop here. The Sheik-ul-Islam, the grand mufti, and the other high clergy, proceeded in the inauguration ceremonials immediately after the entrance of the sovereign. Then came the prayers for the prosperity of the state; for the happiness of the very great, very merciful Abd-ul-Medjid, who had ordered, as the most agreeable homage to the God of Mohammed, this important work, so happily and so promptly terminated. At these words the sultan commanded the brothers to approach, and thanked them for himself and in the name of the people. "You have restored our beautiful mosque," he said to them, "not to its late, but to its original glory."

A skillful decorator had painted two perspective views of Mecca and Medina upon the wall of one of the gardens surrounding the kiosk, to which the sultan retired after the ceremonials were finished. His majesty expressed his delight and gratitude to the artist in eager terms. "I thank you," he said to him, "that you have enabled me to make the holy pilgrimage for myself, when, as chief of the empire, I have been obliged to be satisfied with employing others to do it for me." When we remember that not long since a Christian risked his life by crossing the threshold of a mosque, we shall better appreciate the liberality of the sultan on this occasion. The privilege, however, though now granted to infidels, is quite an expensive one, as the cost of the firman which must be procured, and the gratuities to the various attendants, are not less than thirty-three dollars.

It is not a little singular that the Christian or infidel (for both words have the same signification to a Turk) experiences no difficulty in gaining access to one of the most fanatical sects among the Mohammedans. Any foreigner can witness the ceremonies of the dervishes by leaving his shoes at the door of the tekke or convent. This is the general usage in Turkey. Instead of lifting the hat, as with us, they remove the shoes, which have been soiled with the dust of the street; and, upon the whole, we see no reason why their custom is not as well founded a one as ours.

The peculiar services of the dancing dervishes are performed in a circular hall, which is at the extremity of the court inclosing the other buildings of their establishment. In the center is an elevated platform of the smoothest polish, about three feet high, surrounded by a balustrade which separates the spectators from the performers. There is also a gallery supported on light pillars, where places are reserved for persons of distinction. The hall is well lighted, its windows command most beautiful views, and the interior is painted entirely in blue and white, which gives an exceedingly gay and cheerful air to the whole scene. It must be confessed that your first impressions are not solemn as the dervishes appear before you with their long white skirts, their flower-pot caps, and their bright colored mantles. VOL. VI.-28

They entered the hall in couples, and immediately offered the most profound salutations to their chief, who had seated himself before the mizah or pulpit. Chantings from the Koran followed during what seemed a long time, accompanied with all kinds of grimaces, prostrations, and genuflexions. After another procession had passed in couples before the highpriest and received a silent gesture of benediction from him, a change seemed to come over the whole company. Their eyes sparkled, their forms straitened, their step was more vigorous, and as the music struck up from the orchestra, they began to turn noiselessly on their naked feet in time to the measure. The instruments were only flutes and tarboukas, very indifferently played, and yet I was not insensible myself of an involuntary excitement produced by the music, while the dervishes became positively intoxicated under its influence. One of them extended his arms like a crucifix, the left a little higher than the right, and slowly commenced his evolutions. One after another followed, till the whole company were whirling round with such speed that my head grew dizzy with the sight. Their heavy white robes were inflated with the rapidity of their motion, their faces were flushed and excited, their heads were inclined on one side, their eyes were half closed, yet not the slightest irregularity was perceptible in their motions. Each preserved the center of his own circle without interfering with his companions, apparently without any effort or fatigue. Two or three times the music ceased, when the dancers threw themselves upon the floor, where they remained perfectly immovable, while the attendants spread over them the long colored mantles which they had thrown aside at the commencement of the ceremonies. At the piercing sound of the flute, and the measured, but rapid beat of the tarbouka they were again on their feet whirling in their ecstatic delirium till the figures almost disappeared in the augmented velocity.

During these strange performances a dervish occasionally falls upon his knees, as if exhausted, with his face to the ground. The mantle is immediately spread over the prostrate form; the iman repeats a few words over him, and soon the whole company have assumed the same position. They rise to form a new procession with