es of noticing the
character of the Mussulman, and found, to my great delight, that he
is much better and more honest than prejudices generally allow us to
believe. Even in matters of commerce and business it is better to
have to do with a Turk than with a votary of any other creed, not
even excepting my own.

During my stay at Constantinople (from the 5th of April until May
17th) I found the weather just as changeable as in my own country;
so much so, in fact, that the temperature frequently varied twelve
or fourteen degrees within four-and-twenty hours.

EXCURSION TO BRUSSA.

The two brothers, Baron Charles and Frederick von Buseck, and Herr
Sattler, the talented artist, resolved to make an excursion to
Brussa; and as I had expressed a similar wish, they were obliging
enough to invite me to make a fourth in their party. But when it
came to the point, I had almost become irresolute. I was asked by
some one if I was a good rider; "for if you are not," said my
questioner, "it would be far better for you not to accompany them,
as Brussa is four German miles distant from Gemlek, and the road is
bad, so that the gentlemen must ride briskly if they wish to reach
the town before sundown, starting as they would at half-past two in
the afternoon, the general hour of landing at Gemlek. In the event
of your being unable to keep up with the rest, you would put them to
great inconvenience, or they will be compelled to leave you behind
on the road."

I had never mounted a horse, and felt almost inclined to confess the
fact; but my curiosity to see Brussa, the beautiful town at the foot
of Olympus, gained the day, and I boldly declared that I had no
doubt I should be able to keep pace with my companions.

On the 13th of May we left Constantinople at half-past six in the
morning, on board a little steamer of forty-horse power. Passing
the Prince's and Dog Islands, we swept across the Sea of Marmora
towards the snow-crowned Olympus, until, after a voyage of seven
hours, we reached Gemlek.

Gemlek, distant thirty sea miles from Constantinople, is a miserable
place, but nevertheless does some trade as the harbour of Bithynia.
The agent of the Danube Navigation Company was civil enough to
procure us good horses, and a genuine, stalwart, and fierce-looking
Turkoman for a guide. This man wore in his girdle several pistols
and a dagger; a long crooked scimitar hung at his side; and instead
of shoes and slippers, large boots de