only remedy is to walk on, apparently unmindful of their attentions, but at the same time keeping a sharp eye upon their movements, until one of them, presuming upon his apparent negligence, more bold than the others, approaches within length of his stick; then let a blow be struck, quick and heavy, over his enterprising head: if well struck, a howl, such as must be heard to be understood, will follow from the sufferer; this will be caught up in chorus by all the others, and turning tail, the whole pack will each consult his own personal safety in a speedy retreat. If the blow is missed, or not dealt with stunning force, it had as well been left alone, as it will only increase their wrath and boldness.

Nothing will drive them away but the howl of pain of some of their companions, or some native, taking pity on the unfortunate Frank, calling out, "Huist! huist! huist!" These exclamations have some magical sound attached to them that I could not understand, as I never yet heard a Turk or Rajah use them but the dogs ran away.

As the stranger begins to know the town a little better, the dogs know him also; and if he is liberal in dealing out heavy blows when they are called for, and careful to let the dogs alone when they do not annoy him, he will soon be left in comparative tranquillity; but it is not an uncommon thing for him to have his temper so much ruffled, that he begins to beat every dog that comes within reach of his stick.

There was an Englishman, who, during the summer of 1838, adopted the resolution that whenever a dog barked at him to strike the next one he came to; and to this plan he stuck so close during his stay, that latterly the dogs gave him no annoyance, and the Turks called him "the dog bastinading Giaour."

To what particular race these street-dogs belong it would be difficult to say. They appear to be a mixture of a great many mongrel breeds, but comparatively few of them are what is called the pure Turkish dog. Among the street-dogs there are, no doubt, many of what is called the Turkish dog; an animal, though undescribed by naturalists, yet undoubtedly deserving of some attention. But the Turkish dog must be looked for in all its purity in the burial-grounds, where they bear a proportion of nine to one of the mixed breeds; while in the streets their proportion is not more than one in ten.

The street-dogs, or mixed breed, are of all shapes, sizes, and colours; some of them can only bark, others only howl, while there are again some who can both bark and howl. The pure Turkish dogs, on the contrary, are of one uniform shape, and generally at maturity of nearly one size. In form they are all like the strong thick-set Scottish sheep-dogs, remarkably strong in the legs, and very broad from ear to ear; in size they are rather larger than the shepherd's dog, and generally of a black, or brown and black colour; they cannot bark, but howl like a wolf; and, like the street-dogs, can only be put to flight by a smart hard blow-a slight rap is of no use; the blow must be struck with such force as to make the receiver eloquent; when he and his companions will take the hint, and make themselves scarce as soon as possible.

It would be a matter of great difficulty to arrive at any thing like an accurate calculation of the number of these street and burial-ground dogs in Constantinople. I have sometimes counted them in one street, and sometimes in quarters or divisions, at several different parts of the city and suburbs, and from these data

endeavoured to come to an accurate calculation; but the sum total has always been such as to make me stagger; and I am almost certain that I shall not be credited in stating their number to be about 200,000; though I think this account more likely to be under than above the fact. It may be wondered how so many of these animals obtain food; and I must admit myself perfectly unable to solve the problem, but imagine that the great source of their sustenance is derived from being the scavengers of the city and suburbs, devouring all sorts of filth and dirt thrown out from the houses; they also feed upon such strange dogs or cats, or stray rats, that may fall in their way, for they have all their particular locality, in which they are whelped, suckled, and fed, and in which they live and die. Woe betide the unfortunate dog that strays out of his district into that of another clan! If he escapes being torn to pieces, he will return to his own quarter well covered with wounds. The extent of these canine divisions of the city vary from sixty to two hundred yards in range; in any part of which, a dog appertaining to it is perfectly safe from all attack of his own species; but if once beyond its precincts into that of a strange clan, the chances are ten to one that he never returns. I have seen many strange dogs get into the neighbourhood where I lived, but very rarely saw any of them effect their escape. The whole dogs of the district, in such cases, are drawn together by a particular kind of howl or bark, and the intruder being pulled down, is speedily devoured.

The cats of the district live on terms of great amity with the dogs, and often may be found sleeping together in the street; but the cat that is imprudent enough to stray along the ground from his own quarter, is soon food for the resident dogs of the dis

trict intruded on. The cats, however, are not often so foolish; if they are inclined to ramble, they do so along the house-tops, as they can do for miles without any danger, taking the liberty of entering such houses as they find accessible in their stroll, and freely helping themselves, when they can, to the cheer of the lorder.

It is not an uncommon thing in severe weather to see the Turks with a bag of coarse bread under their arms, feeding these animals in the street, although they would not give a morsel of it to a Christian dying of hunger; and there are certain portions of the city where a certain number of dogs are fed every day by order of various deceased Sultans. Connected with all the different barracks there is generally a band of from two to six hundred dogs, who may be seen scattered about the neighbourhood at all hours, basking themselves in the sun in summer, or warming themselves in the snow in winter.

When the hour draws nigh for the soldiers' dinner or supper, they will all be gathered together in front of the barrack-gate, as closely huddled together as a flock of sheep, wagging their tails, and looking the very picture of joyous anticipation until the dinner is

when the cart filled with the bones and castaway morsels of the soldiers' repast appears, the dogs surround it on every side; and while it is being drawn to the place appointed for tumbling it up, the frenzy is great; but when the emptying takes place, and the precious morsels are scattered on the ground, the excitement is at its height.

One evening, last winter, about an hour before sunset on returning from a walk along with a friend, we sav a crowd of at least two hundred dogs on the hill in front of the artillery-barracks, at the north end

of Pera; they seemed close huddled together, but there was a large space in the centre of the crowd, and something occupying it, which was the point of attraction. Fearing that it might be some one fallen down unwell, or pulled down by these brutes, we made towards the spot, as by this time we had become so accustomed to the manner of frightening the dogs, that we had no fear. On a nearer approach, we found an old white horse on the ground, and apparently at the point of death: every now and then he was lifting up his head, and gazing on the expectant crowd around him, on which the circle would be considerably enlarged; but the moment his head dropped, then they gathered more closely around the horse. If ever there was fear expressed in the eye and countenance of an animal, it was in that of the white horse; for as he slowly lifted his head from time to time, and gazed around, he seemed as if conscious of the fate that awaited him, and frightened that the dogs would begin to eat him before he was dead. My friend and myself being provided with two strong oak-sticks, dealt two thundering blows on the skulls of two of the greedy expectants of a feast: they howled fearfully, and the others caught up the chorus, and they all set off; the poor old horse seemed thankful, and actually bowed his head as we departed in token of his gratitude!

After we left the scene a few minutes, we looked round, and saw the scared dogs stealthily making their way to the place; and on the following morning, about an hour after sunrise, on going to the same spot, all we found of the horse was a part of one of the legs and the hoof; all the other parts were either devoured or carried away: but how the dogs managed to separate the parts, I am at a loss to know, as we