k
clothes, with black lace veils on their heads and their hair much
dressed. The Greeks are obliged to carry their dead in this way,
uncovered, because concealed arms were at one time conveyed in coffins
to their churches, and then used in an uprising against the government.
We witnessed a still more dreadful funeral outside the walls. A party,
evidently of poor people, were approaching an unenclosed cemetery, and
we waited to see the interment. The body, in its usual clothes, was
carried on a board covered by a sheet. When they reached the grave the
women shrieked, wept and kissed the face of the dead man: then his
clothes were taken off, the body wrapped in the sheet and laid in the
grave, which was only two feet deep. The priest broke a bottle of wine
over the head, the earth was loosely thrown in, and the party went away.
There is no more melancholy spot to me than a Turkish cemetery. The
graves are squeezed tightly together, and the headstones, generally in a
tumble-down state, are shaped like a coffin standing on end, or like a
round hitching-post with a fez cap carved on the top. Weeds and rank
wild-flowers cover the ground, and over all sway the dark, stiff
cypresses.

A little way down the street is a Turkish pastry-shop. Lecturers and
writers have from time to time held forth on the enormities of
pie-eating, and given the American people "particular fits" for their
addiction to it. Now, while I fully endorse all I ever heard said on the
subject, I beg leave to remark that the Americans are not the _worst_
offenders in this way. If you want to see pastry, come to
Constantinople: _seeing_ will satisfy you--you won't risk a taste.
Mutton is largely eaten, and the mutton fat is used with flour to make
the crust, which is so rich that the grease fairly oozes out and
"smells to Heaven." Meat-pies are in great demand. The crust is baked
alone in a round flat piece, and laid out on a counter, which is soon
very greasy, ready to be filled. A large dish of hash is also ready, and
when a customer calls the requisite amount of meat is clapped on one
side of the paste, the other half doubled over it, and he departs eating
his halfmoon-shaped pie. On the counters you see displayed large
egg-shaped forms of what look like layers of tallow and cooked meat,
cheesy-looking cakes of many kinds and an endless variety of
confectionery. The sweetmeats are perfection, the fresh Turkish paste
with almonds in it melts in your mouth,