THE BOSPHORUS

Our lanterns glimmered along the street of Pera that evening at an unwonted hour, quite astonishing the watchmen; and as we crossed the great burying ground the dogs were sleeping about it so thickly, that they looked collecting like a flock of sheep. But they did not annoy us; on the contrary, one poor animal followed us in a most humble manner, as far as the circus; when, probably reflecting that he would overpass his own boundaries, if he came further, he gave a dismal howl of parting salutation, and was immediately lost in the darkness.

All my readers know that the Bosphorus is the broad stream of sea water which connects the Euxine with the Sea of Marmora, falling into the latter between Stamboul and Scutari. It is joined at this point by the “ Sweet waters of Europe,” which flow into the upper end of the Golden Horn, as the Liane may be said to do into the Port of Boulogne, to use a familiar example. There is, however, no tide. It is of great importance to the beauties of Constantinople and its neighbourhood that the water is always at the same height.

The length of the Bosphorus is, at a rough guess, about twenty miles. Its course is very winding; its shores are irregular and hilly, broken by small valleys or chines; its banks are covered with picturesque villages, and indeed nearly all along the water’s edge the line of pretty dwellings is unbroken. It divides Europe from Asia, and is the great channel of communication between all the ports of the Black Sea and the Mediterranean.

On my first disengaged day, I arranged with a friend to make a little voyage up this beautiful stream, in a caique. He was residing at Pera, and made a bargain with two fellows to take us for the day for forty-five piastres, (about ten shillings.) We took a large basket of food—principally consisting of hard eggs, bread, and pale ale; and started from the Tophane landing-place about nine A.M.

The morning was threatening, and it soon began to rain in torrents; so drenching our poor boatmen, in their flimsy white jackets and drawers, that we pulled up at a little cluster of houses, where there was a Greek cafe (properly inscribed Kaipwewv that there might be no mistake about it), and waited until the storm was over private tour Istanbul.

Greeks drinking smoking, and playing cards

The room was crowded with Greeks, drinking, smoking, and playing cards; and in an adjoining room, as many more were absorbed in a game of billiards, played with small ninepins on the cloth. The master had not much to offer beyond some muddy coffee and execrably bad brandy; but he pointed with great pride to a shelf of English pickles, and bottled beer, which, he appeared to have some vague notion, were always taken together. There was also a picture of Queen Victoria, which had been presented gratis with some newspaper—hung up, I suppose, in compliment to the Anglo-Ionian subjects who used the house. The noise and confusion was bewildering, and the intentions of Kussia the sole subject of conversation. In about half an hour, the weather held up, and when we embarked again the scene was most lovely.

The greater part of the noble Turkish fleet was lying at anchor in the middle of the stream. Many ships were sailing down from the Euxine ports, on the sterns of some of which it was pleasant to read the Polly of Sunderland, or the Two Sisters of London : all the caiques had come out of their nooks and corners again, and the roofs of the houses, wet with rain, glistened in the sunlight as though they had been silver.

I can reconceive nothing so exciting as the approach to Constantinople must be, by the Bosphorus, to those travellers who have come down the Danube. The banks display every variety of water scenery. Now the handsome villas and palaces remind one of the edges of an Italian lake, Como or Orta, for instance ; the next turn of the stream brings you to rocky eminences with such ruins on them as you might see on the Rhine or Moselle; and a little further on, gentle hills, covered with hanging woods, rise from the stream, as they might do anywhere between Maidenhead Bridge and Marlow.