ve, but it is a long way to the entrances of the bazaar. She passes
through the street of the metalworkers and turns off at the armourers'
lane. There the noise is deafening: sledge hammers and mallets hammer
and beat, for the shops of the bazaar are workshops as well.

Again she turns a corner. Evidently she has lost her way, for she stands
and looks about in all directions. She has now come to a passage where
water-pipes and all articles connected with smoking are sold. Then she
turns in another direction. An odour tells her a long distance off that
she is coming to the street of spice-dealers. She has to ask her way
almost at every step.

Not only in Constantinople but in all parts of the Turkish Empire, and
all over the Mohammedan world, goods are bought and sold in these
half-dark tunnels which are called bazaars. It is the same in the
Mohammedan towns of North Africa, in Arabia, Asia Minor, Persia,
Caucasia, Afghanistan, India, and Turkestan. Wherever minarets rise
above the dwellings of men and the muezzin sings out his everlasting
"There is no god but God," the exchange of wares and coin is carried on
in dark bazaars. The great bazaar in Stambul is one of the richest, but
even where the bazaars are small and insignificant the same order
prevails, the same mode of life. Among Turkish men and women of high
rank stroll poor ragamuffins and dervishes or begging monks. A caravan
of camels moves slowly through the crowd, bringing fresh supplies to the
tradesmen from a steamboat quay or from the railway station. The camels
have scarcely disappeared in the darkness before a train of mules with
heavy bales follows in their track. A loud-voiced man offers for sale
grapes and melons he carries in a basket, while another bears a
water-bottle of leather.

And all the races which swarm here! The great majority are, of course,
Turks, but we also see whole rows of shops where only Persians trade. We
see Hindus from India, Egyptians from Cairo, Arabs from the coasts of
the Red Sea, Circassians and Tatars from the Caucasus and the Crimea,
Sarts from Samarkand and Bokhara, Armenians, Jews, and Greeks, and not
infrequently we meet a negro from Zanzibar or a Chinaman from the
farthest East.

It is a confusion of shopmen and customers, brokers and thieves from all
the East. A noise and bustle, a deafening roar which never ceases all
day long, a hurrying, a striving and eagerness to clear the stock and
gain money. If the prices we