eached twelve hours
sooner.

April 5th.

This morning I had leisure to admire this fine fortress-town, which
was besieged and taken by the Russians in 1828. We remained here
several hours. The upper portion of the ship was here loaded with
fowl of all descriptions, to such a degree that the space left for
us travellers was exceedingly circumscribed. This article of
consumption seems to be in great demand in Constantinople both among
Turks and Franks; for our captain assured me that his vessel was
laden with this kind of ware every time he quitted Varna, and that
he carried it to Stamboul.

April 6th.

The shades of night prevented my seeing one of the finest sights in
the world, in anticipation of which I had rejoiced ever since my
departure from Vienna--the passage through the Bosphorus. A few
days afterwards, however, I made the excursion in a kaik (a very
small and light boat), and enjoyed to my heart's content views and
scenes which it is totally beyond my descriptive power to portray.

At three o'clock in the morning, when we entered the harbour of
Constantinople, every one, with the exception of the sailors, lay
wrapped in sleep. I stood watching on deck, and saw the sun rise in
its full glory over the imperial city, so justly and universally
admired.

We had cast anchor in the neighbourhood of Topona; the city of
cities lay spread out before my eyes, built on several hills, each
bearing a separate town, and all blending into a grand and
harmonious whole.

The town of Constantinople, properly speaking, is separated from
Galata and Pera by the so-called "Golden Horn;" the means of
communication is by a long and broad wooden bridge. Scutari and
Bulgurlu rise in the form of terraces on the Asiatic shore. Scutari
is surrounded, within and without, by a splendid wood of magnificent
cypresses. In the foreground, on the top of the mountain, lie the
spacious and handsome barracks, which can contain 10,000 men.

The beautiful mosques, with their graceful minarets--the palaces and
harems, kiosks and great barracks--the gardens, shrubberies, and
cypress-woods--the gaily painted houses, among which single
cypresses often rear their slender heads,--these, together with the
immense forest of masts, combine to form an indescribably striking
spectacle.

When the bustle of life began, on the shore and on the sea, my eyes
scarcely sufficed to take in all I saw. The "Golden Horn" became
gradually covered as f