contrary sense!). We rowed up the Golden Horn to the Valley of Sweet Waters afterwards, and a most charming trip it was; all Constantinople was congregated there. A more picturesque and charming scene it is impossible to imagine; — the beautiful dresses; groups of Turks squatting on the ground smoking, clustered round a tree by the water-side; women in detached groups squatting by themselves, dressed in the brightest colours and veiled up to the eyes; now and then a stately old Pasha, sitting in a carriage all by himself, moved by at a slow, dignified pace, followed by three or four carriages containing his harem with an arguseyed eunuch at each door, — all this scene enlivened by tom-toms, guitars, and funny little fiddles played like violoncellos playing the wildest and most discordant music possible, the musicians howling rather than singing by way of accompaniment. I was determined to pass the day in true Eastern style; so buying a small roll, I approached a stall and ate some most delicious kabobs with my fingers, which I washed down with sherbet (the nastiest stuff you ever drank). I then regaled myself with sweetmeats, which are excellent, and finished my repast with a chibouk and coffee, so that altogether I made the most of my day. I do not, however, much regret my confinement to camp, *the spot is so lovely, and the walks in the neighbourhood lovely. I hope you are all getting on well in Bolton Row; ^^ give my kindest love to Julia and the children, and tell them I often think of them.... — Ever your affectionate brother,
Fredk. Stephenson. Camp Scutari, May 15, 1854.
To Mrs. Melvil Wilson
Camp Scutari, May 25, 1854.
My dearest Lou, — It is a sad long time since I have written to 3'^ou, but do not think for all that that I have in any way forgotten you, for I assure you I am
constantly thinking of you and all at the Rue las Cases. This life is so full of excitement and my time is so occupied that it is really no easy matter to give up a few hours to letter-writing, even to those dearest to me. We are now in camp at Scutari.... We have a lovely view... which often makes me think of Switzerland. Our position is really quite lovely, and although there is an enormous barrack close by capable of holding 7000 men, I am very glad it did not fall to our lot to be quartered there. It is a fine imposing building, but the filth and stench of the rooms is beyond description, and it swarms with fleas. I had a good view of Stamboul the other day, and visited two of the principal mosques and the seraglio, all of which we had to enter barefooted; it looked so ridiculous to see a party of thirty men (which we were) walking about the mosque each with a pair of Wellington boots in his hand. These mosques are very beautiful buildings; their vast space is very striking, nothing to interrupt the view; the form is that of a Greek cross, and the cupola in the centre is quite enormous. The one in the Achmet Mosque is supported by four of the most gigantic pillars in the world; it took me twenty-eight good long strides to walk round one. There is not a chair, stool, or bench visible, and the whole surface of the floor is covered with numberless Turkey carpets, more beautiful than any I have ever seen — so deliciously soft to walk upon. The quaint little pulpit from which the Koran is read is the only excrescence of any kind in the building. St. Sophia is more interesting still. We were stopped at the outer gate till our firman was vised. At this gate a chain is thrown across at midday; up to this hour the lazy Turks are allowed to ride through the inner court to the door of the mosque, after which hour those wishing to go to church must dismount at the outer gate. The architecture of this mosque, which was built by Justinian, is perfectly splendid; there are numberless large pillars, each of one single block of stone and of different kinds; marbles of all
[fragment illegible in the scan of the first edition]