"But we've got an atlas," said Maggie, "so you can show it us, you
know."

"Well, give me the map. Here is the Sea of Marmora, with
Turkey-in-Europe on one side of it, and Turkey-in-Asia on the other side
of it. This narrower part that you come into it by is called the
Dardanelles, that narrower part that you go out of it by is called the
Bosphorus. The Bosphorus is about two miles broad; it is salt water, you
know, and leads from the Sea of Marmora to the Black Sea, which is
farther north. This narrow piece of water going westward out of the
Bosphorous is called the Golden Horn. Constantinople--which is built,
like Rome, on hills--rises above the shores of the Bosphorus and on both
sides of the Golden Horn. The part of it which is south of the Golden
Horn is called Stamboul, and is the especially Turkish Quarter. Across
the Golden Horn from Stamboul lies the Quarter called Galata--the
commercial port--and beyond that Pera--beautiful Pera!--the Quarter
where English people live when they live at Constantinople. North of
these are more suburbs, and then detached Turkish villages and gay
gardens dotting the banks of the Bosphorus."

"But you lived at Pera?"

"Yes, I lived at Pera; in a house looking into the Turkish cemetery."

"Was it nice, Cousin, like our churchyard? or do the Turks do horrid
things with their dead people, like those Chinese you told us about, who
put them in boxes high up in the air?"

"The Turks bury their dead as we do, my dear Maggie, and they plant
their graveyards with cypresses, which, standing tall and dark among the
headstones of the graves, have a very picturesque effect. The cemetery
in all Turkish towns is a favourite place of public resort, but I cannot
say that it is kept in very nice order, as a rule. For the sake of a
water-colour sketch I made in one, I was very glad that the upright
headstones were tumbling about in all directions, it took away the look
of stiffness and monotony; but I am bound to say that the graves looked
neglected as well as picturesque. The cemetery at Pera had too much
refuse, and too many cocks, hens, and dogs in it. It looked very pretty,
however, from my windows, sloping down towards the Golden Horn, beyond
which I could catch a glimpse of Stamboul on the heights across the
water. But I have not yet told you what Constantinople looked like when
I first saw it."

"You began about the Sea of Marmora, Cousin, and here it is. I've had
my middle finger on it