like every other European city, a
profound silence prevails over all. This remarkable characteristic
of Constantinople is owing to the very few wheel-carriages employed
in the city. In other respects the view around is lively, and in
fine weather quickened with innumerable objects in motion. In the
calmest days the rippling in the flow of the Bosphorus is like the
running of a river. In the fifth canto of Don Juan, Lord Byron has
seized the principal features, and delineated them with sparkling
effect.

The European with the Asian shore,
Sprinkled with palaces, the ocean stream
Here and there studded with a seventy-four,
Sophia's cupola with golden gleam;
The cypress groves; Olympus high and hoar;
The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream,
Far less describe, present the very view
Which charm'd the charming Mary Montague.

In the morning, when his Lordship left the ship, the wind blew
strongly from the north-east, and the rushing current of the
Bosphorus dashed with great violence against the rocky projections of
the shore, as the captain's boat was rowed against the stream.

The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave
Broke foaming o'er the blue Symplegades.
'Tis a grand sight, from off the giant's grave,
To watch the progress of those rolling seas
Between the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave
Europe and Asia, you being quite at ease.

"The sensations produced by the state of the weather, and leaving a
comfortable cabin, were," says Mr Hobhouse, "in unison with the
impressions which we felt, when, passing under the palace of the
sultans, and gazing at the gloomy cypresses, which rise above the
walls, we saw two dogs gnawing a dead body." The description in The
Siege of Corinth of the dogs devouring the dead, owes its origin to
this incident of the dogs and the body under the walls of the
seraglio.

And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall,
Hold o'er the dead their carnival.
Gorging and growling o'er carcase and limb,
They were too busy to bark at him.
From a Tartar's scull they had stripp'd the flesh,
As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh,
And their white tusks crunched on the whiter scull,
As it slipp'd through their jaws when their edge grew dull.
As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead,
When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed.
So well had they broken a lingering fast,
With those who had fallen for that night's repast.
And Alp knew by