smoking in the open area, with pale and still features, and their long beards dyed black. Much of the effects of the captive or slain proprietors still remained in the apartments. What tales of blood might be told of this war of extermination! Just before our landing at the town of the Dardanelles, a large village on the opposite shore was attacked at night by a body of Turkish soldiers, and men, women, and children put to the sword, to the amount of several hundreds. In the cruel evacuation of Parga, when its poor people knew not where to find an asylum, and each family had a distress all its own, a father and mother-I knew the circumstance well-offered an English officer their only and beautiful daughter. "Take her, signior," they said, "from the misery around, save her from Ali Pacha, treat her always with kindness, and she shall live with you." The young Greek still resides with him, but her parents most probably perished. Here, separations like this might be said to be mild, compared to some scenes, where the parents were butchered before the eyes of their children, who were borne away for the pleasures of the captor. At Smyrna, after the first massacre in the streets, the Greeks shut themselves in their houses, but several times they made attempts to escape in boats. Having watched that the shore was clear of the enemy, they hurried on board with their families, to gain some neutral vessel in the harbour. The Turkish soldiers quickly gathered on the beach, and kept up a fire of musquetry on them. It was sad to hear the cries from the boats, and see the poor fugitives dropping as the bullets struck them. After I left Smyrna, a singular circumstance occurred to an intimate friend and fellow-traveller, who chanced to spend a short time there. He was sitting in his apartment in the hotel one day, when a young and respectable Greek woman entered, and threw herself at his feet, weeping bitterly. She implored him to save her life, and procure her escape. Her friends had been sacrificed, and there was no one she could trust in; and the dread of being every moment discovered by the Turks was insupportable. There was no listening to this in vain. He generously sought for her an asylum under English protection, and in a few days procured her a passage in a vessel sailing for Greece, where she was sure to find friends, and presented her with a supply of money. Among the pleasant rides around the city, is that to the Aqueducts of Justinian, and the forest of Belgrade, about fourteen miles off. Having procured horses, we left Pera early, attended by Mustapha, an honest janizary, well known to every traveller, and accustomed to go remote journeys through the empire. At a few miles' distance is the Palace of the Sweet Waters, a favourite summer residence of the Sultan. Proceeding through a pleasing country, we reached the lofty Aqueduct of Justinian, and soon after that of Bourgas. The small lakes in the heart of the forest, their lofty banks darkly covered to the water's edge, afford some scenes of peculiar beauty. We halted at a village inhabited by a few Greeks, and entered a poor coffee-house to get some refreshment. They soon produced a dish of mutton and some fruit; and, what was more acceptable, some very good white wine. In the midst of the meal some Turkish cavalry approached, amusing themselves with throwing the jerrid at each other. The affrighted Greeks instantly hid the wine, and brought in its place a vessel of water. We wished the Turks at Mecca for spoiling our dinner: they entered, and made some 'very pointed inquiries; but Mustapha soon satisfied them, and, after demanding some refreshment, they departed. When the heat had abated, we directed our course towards Boioukderé: the prospect from the hills of that village and its valley, with the Turkish camp still pitched in it, the Black Sea beyond, and the river beneath, flowing between the shores of Europe and Asia, was noble in the extreme. It being evening, we turned down to Therapia; and being kindly pressed by Mr. L. to spend a day or two with him again, sent the janizary with the horses back to the city. The next day being Sunday, the garden of the French ambassador's palace, with its long rows of trees on the eminences, afforded a cool and retired promenade, Mr. M. a merchant, who lived close by, dined with us: we visited his garden in the evening, and taking seats on the terrace just over the water, had pipes brought. He was an elderly man, and a bachelor, and had left Scotland long ago. He talked of his native land with deep pleasure, and of the days of his youth. Singular, as the sun was going down on the exquisite scenery of the Bosphorus, stretched like fairy-land around us, to think and to talk so of the scenes of "lang syne," and all their dear associations! A cup of the whiskey, and a song of the Highlands, with a sight of the kilt, or his "ain dear lassie," would have been more dear to him than the Arabian coffee we were sipping, the evening-call to prayers from the Mosque, or the shrouded and still forms of the women stealing along. The condition of the women in Turkey has little resemblance to slavery, and the pity given to it by Europeans has its source more in imagination than reality. From their naturally retired and indolent habits, they care less about exercise in the open air than ourselves. They are very fond of the bath, where large parties of them frequently meet and spend the greater part of the day, displaying their rich dresses to each other, conversing, and taking refreshments. From this practice, and the little exposure to the sun, the Turkish ladies have often an exquisite delicacy of complexion. They often sail in their pleasure-boats to various parts of the Bosphorus, or walk veiled to the favourite promenades near the cemetery, or in the gardens of Dolma Batcke, with their attendants; and they sometimes walk disguised through the streets of the city, without any observation. The government of an English wife over her own household does not equal that of the Turkish, which is absolute, the husband scarcely ever interfering in the domestic arrangements, and in case of a divorce her portion is always given up. The practice of eating opium does not appear to be so general with the Turks as is commonly believed. But there is a set of people at Constantinople devoted to this drug; and the Theriakis, as they are called, have that hollow and livid aspect, the fixed dulness of the eye at one time, or the unnatural brightness at another, which tell too plainly of this destructive habit. They seldom live beyond thirty; lose all appetite for food; and as their strength wastes, the craving for the vivid excitement of opium, increases. It is useless to warn a Theriakee that he is hurrying to the grave. He comes in the morning to a large coffee-bouse, a well-known resort for this purpose, close to the superb mosque of Suleimanieh. Having swallowed his pill, he seats himself in the portico in front, which is shaded by trees. He has no wish to change his position, for motion would disturb his happiness, which he will tell you is indescribable. Then the most wild and blissful reveries come crowding on him. His gaze fixed on the river beneath, covered with the sails of every nation; on the majestic shores of Asia opposite, or vacantly raised where the gilded minarets of Suleimanieh ascend on high if external objects heighten, as is allowed, the illusions of opium, the Turk is privileged. There, till the sun sets on the scene, the Theriakee revels in love, in splendour, or pride. He sees the beauties of Circassia striving whose charms shall most delight him; the Ottoman fleet sails beneath his flag as the Capitan Pacha: or seated in the divan, turbaned heads are bowed before him, and voices hail the favoured of Alla and the Sultan. But evening comes, and he awakes to a sense of wretchedness and helplessness, to a gnawing hunger which is an effect of his vice; and hurries home, to suffer till the morning sun calls him to his paradise again. In this city you cannot proceed far without remarking the great number of coffee-houses and sweetmeat-shops. The former are attended from sun-rise till night. Each person brings his small tobaccobag in his pocket, which he is very ready to offer to a stranger who is unprovided. Whatever residence a traveller enters, from that of the prince to the peasant, the universal compliment is the pipe and coffee; the latter drunk without milk, and the former of a very fine and mild quality. The janizary, a tall fierce-looking fellow, who attended me through the streets as a guard, and would talk very coolly by the way of the different Greeks he had murdered, used to amuse me at seeing him stop at a sweetmeat-shop, and purchase what would please a child in England, and devour it with as much fondness. The situation of the English merchants settled here, is not an enviable one. Reduced to their own contracted circle, and that destitute, with one or two exceptions, of female society; no public amusements, library, or music, there is a sad monotony in their life. They are very hospitable to strangers, and do not spare any attentions to make a residence there agreeable. The chief resource to a traveller is at Lord Strangford's. At his table, or at the evening parties, were to be met individuals of different nations, chiefly Armenians and Franks; but there was a want of vivacity and interest in them, arising from the restraint produced by the unfortunate state of affairs, and all interchange of visits with the other ambassadors being at an end. At the palace at this time was Lady G. T., a younger sister of Lady H. Stanhope, and possessed of the same spirit of enterprise and courage, though less romantic and Oriental. She had just arrived from Persia, by way of Georgia, and had travelled great part of the way on horseback. At Tebriz an offer was made her of an introduction to the seraglio of the Prince Royal of Persia, but it was declined. Such an offer occurs but once in a person's life. The beautiful author of the "Letters from Turkey" would have embraced it with delight, for she was a favourite with the Oriental women, and no subsequent traveller has ever had her opportunities of knowing and describing them, or perhaps ever will. What can be more exquisite than her picture of Fatima, the Pacha of Adrianople's bride; endowed with that mild dig nity and sweetness of carriage so often possessed by the Turkish ladies; and seated amidst her handmaids, directing their tasks of embroidery; each of whom was selected for her beauty, but herself "so gloriously beautiful" as to excel all her visitor had ever beheld? Before leaving Stamboul, it is but justice to say something of the singular honesty of the Turks. On landing at Galati, my effects were carried by a porter; and proceeding up one of the crowded streets, we entirely lost sight of him, and turned towards a coffee-house, as I concluded he had made off with them; but the Swedish captain of the vessel, who had been here before, declared such a circumstance was never known there. In a short time we observed the poor fellow returning down the street, and looking most anxiously on every side. In the bazaars a merchant will often go away and leave his shop and effects exposed, without the least concern. In their dealings it is rare to find any attempt to defraud; and in the whole of my journey through various parts of the empire, often lodging in the humblest cottages, and in the most remote situations, I never suffered the loss of the most trifling article among the Turks. An amusing incident befel Mr. R., a gentleman attached to the palace, during our stay here. He had lost a leg while in the navy, and, being very desirous of visiting the great bazaar, he rode through it on horseback; a privilege used by none but Turks, and in these disturbed times rather dangerous. A Bostandgi Bashee, an officer of some rank, being enraged on observing this, came up and struck with his sabre at Mr. R.'s wooden leg. The Turk's astonishment at seeing no blood flow, or wound inflicted, was very great. He lifted his sabre and cut with good will through part of the leg; but finding it all useless, he drew back, without uttering a word, and gazed intently on the Frank. The Janizaries, of whom there are fifty thousand at present in and around Constantinople, are uncommonly fine men. If these men would submit to European discipline and the use of the bayonet, they would have little reason to fear a contest with the Russians, to whom they bear a deadly hatred. The unfortunate Selim's resolution to bring these haughty troops into discipline, cost him his throne. About two years after his relative Mahmoud was made emperor, the Janizaries began to regret that they had ever deposed him; for Selim was as eminent for his amiable qualities as for his personal beauty. A large body of them advanced tumultuously to the foot of the palace walls, and with loud cries demanded Selim. The prince, who had been kept a close prisoner, heard with the liveliest emotion the clamours of the Janizaries. Mahmoud instantly ordered the Kislar Aga, the chief of the black eunuchs, with two mutes, to despatch him. This man, the instrument of the Sultan's crimes as well as pleasures, is horribly ugly, and supposed to have great influence with his master. As they broke into the apartment, Selim instantly knew their purpose; and possessing great strength, he struck down the mutes on each side, and was making his way out of the door, to throw himself over the wall among the Janizaries, which would have given him the empire again, but the Kislar Aga wounded him in such a manner, that Selim fainted with the agony of pain, when the bowstring was instantly placed round his neck, and his body thrown over to the soldiers. The Janizaries uttered loud lamentations, and knelt round the body, weeping bitterly; but, dismayed by his death, they retired without any further effort. VOL. X. NO. XXXIX. THE CHILD OF THE FORESTS. Is not thy heart far off amidst the woods They are gone forth, the Desert's warrior-race, The night-fires blaze, the hunter's work is done- Ev'n as ourselves, by life's tempestuous tide! Hear them not! hear them not!-thou canst not find Thou hast quaff'd knowledge from the founts of mind, Thou know'st the soaring thought, th' immortal strain— "POURQUOI EXISTONS-NOUS ?"—VOLTAIRE. Why first she breathed upon man's clay, F. H. |