te: THE MUEZZIN.] _Friday, 7th._--This was the first morning that
I heard the Ezan, or cry of the muezzin from the minaret, calling the
faithful to prayer. I believe the invocation he makes, is something like
the following:--"Come to prayer; come to the temple of salvation. Great
God! there is no God but God.

"La Allah ila Allah, Muhammed[14] Resoul Allah:"
No God but God! Mahomet, prophet of God.

This exhortation is uttered in a loud and piercing tone of voice, which
steals through the calm morning, producing a powerful effect: it is like
the shrill call of a spirit to devotion, and has an unearthly sound.
Though the bell tolling to prayer, possesses over the soul a power whose
influence is very generally acknowledged, yet the awful voice of the
priest crying from the minaret is infinitely more solemn, and seems as
if it proceeded from the Divinity itself. There are few Mohammedans in
Terapia who obey the summons, except those in authority.

I walked out this afternoon with the ambassador, and took him to a
garden belonging to my landlord, an entrance into which I had
stipulated for on taking the house. It commands a view of Terapia and
the Bosphorus, and the prospect is so beautiful and picturesque, that it
has even been visited by the Sultan.

[Sidenote: MADAME MAUVROMATI.] On entering, we found Madame Mauvromati
and her pretty daughters sitting under the wide-spreading plane trees;
and they presented us with some delicious strawberries. Madame
Mauvromati is a very old woman, and has been a witness of most of the
atrocities inflicted on the Greeks during their recent struggles: she is
herself of Genoese parents, but was married to a Greek, who perished in
the great massacre. Of course she speaks Italian fluently; and her
children, like their mother, are well educated, as, in addition to their
native language, they understand Italian, French, and one of the sons,
English: I suspect also, that the dark-eyed beauty, who so modestly
proffered the strawberry basket, understood me better than she chose to
acknowledge. We sat listening to tales of the cruelties perpetrated on
the Greeks and Armenians; the exploits of the Sultan, and the
destruction of the janissaries; interspersed with various little
anecdotes of individuals well known in Stamboul, till it grew late, and,
in consequence, dinner was not served at the palace till much beyond
the usual hour. The French ambassador having sent word he should come
in a