land villages are built, so that the water appears like a lake with numerous arms and bends winding through the heart of a large metropolis, but the stranger is most struck with the tapering graceful minarets of the mosques. They spring up in pairs, sometimes in fours, like the stems of tall slim trees. These mosques are stupendous buildings, some of them nearly as large as St. Paul's.

We landed about eight o'clock, and I went to Misserie's Hotel, kept by an Englishwoman, and found it more English looking than any I had yet visited in the East. It is very curious, as you travel homewards, to observe the increasing English complexion of things. One foreign custom after another is dropped, and old homely ones substituted. For instance, we have had for a long time nothing but wine for breakfast, a light French claret, which is very wholesome, but not palatable to a Briton at such an early hour; but here the familiar tea and coffee appear again.

Yesterday I first hurried down to get my home letters, and after that sallied out to explore the town, and rambled a good deal up and down its narrow streets. The grandeur of Constantinople does not bear close inspection; it does not possess a street so clean and well paved as most British villages can boast of. But in this respect it is like all Eastern towns. They are one and all a tangled labyrinth of crooked alleys, dark, narrow and ill paved. There is not one street in a hundred broad enough to drive a vehicle in; it is all you can do to tread them on foot, always looking out lest a donkey pushes you against the wall with its panniers, or a tall camel upsets you in the gutter. Constantinople is neither better nor worse than its neighbours. It is very difficult to get into the mosques here. The Turks are fanatical Mohammedans, and don't like to see the infidels, as they call us, profane their sacred places; but money will accomplish almost anything in this world, and it will unlock the door of most of these mosques.

I went through one of the finest yesterday-that of Sultan Achmet; the interior was nearly as grand and imposing as that of St. Paul's; The most famous of all is that of St. Sophia, which was originally built by Constantine, the first Christian Emperor of Rome, then rebuilt by Justinian II., in the seventh century, as a Christian Church, but converted by the Mohammedans into a mosque. I made an attempt upon it yesterday, but could not get in. I intend trying again to

morrow.

Kustenjee, Friday, June 5:

I now continue my letter from a little port on the Black Sea, where we have to wait some time for the train that takes us to the Danube: It is a cold bleak uninteresting place. My last letter was dated on Tuesday. The next day was the pleasantest I spent at Constantinople; I visited the grand mosques of St. Sophia and Suleimanye, and was much impressed by their magnificence. After that I rode round the crumbling walls of the city, and enjoyed it greatly. These are the ancient fortifications which repelled for many centuries the attacks of the Moslems, and were the bulwark of Christendom. They extend for several miles, and have a venerable appearance. All round the

outskirts stretch spacious cemeteries, shaded by dense groves of Cypress trees, which give a solemn funereal look to the ground. I also ascended the tall Seraskier tower, and got a splendid view of the city and neighbourhood. Yesterday afternoon we left Constantinople at three p.m. by the Austrian Lloyd's steamer, bound for the Danube and Vienna. The day was bitterly cold and stormy, and I could not keep myself warm, even with winter clothing on. We passed through the Bosphorus, and soon entered the stormy Euxine, and had rather an uncomfortable passage to this little port. If you look at the map you will find that the Danube approaches the Black Sea before taking a bend to the North. Across this neck of land there is a railway, and by means of it we avoid the necessity of entering the river at its mouth, and save a long detour. We start this afternoon, embark on the Danube in the evening, and hope to reach Pesth on Monday.

ON THE DANUBE ABOUT THE AUSTRIAN FRONTIER,

Monday, June 8.

I now continue my letter from the deck of the river steamer, about half-past eight on a beautiful morning, in the midst of splendid scenery. The former part of this letter was penned at the little railway station of Kustenjee, on the Black Sea. That same afternoon we crossed the little neck of land to the Danube, and I caught the first glimpse of that noble river about sunset. It is a majestic stream of great size, looking to the eye nearly as large as the Mississippi, though, of course, it brings down much less water. The average breadth is about half a mile, sometimes more, sometimes less, and the water is brown and muddy. We had a most tedious wait at a little station there till after midnight before the steamer arrived. The first sight of the steamer reminded me of those I had seen on American rivers-a long flatbottomed boat, with raised galleries, and remarkably comfortable— more comfortable, I think, than American steamers, though not so large.

On Saturday morning I got up and began to explore matters. We had a large company on board-Russians, Austrians, and all sorts of foreigners, with a little party of Scotch people, some of them from Edinburgh, with whom I soon scraped an acquaintance. The whole day we steamed up the river, but the scenery was very tame-low, flat banks on either side, and dirty straggling villages. On the north bank we had Wallachia and Moldavia, and on the south European Turkey. The same dullness continued yesterday till the afternoon, when we approached the confines of the Austrian empire, bounded by the Carpathian Mountains. The banks of the river now became steep and beautifully wooded, and the scenery very interesting. The stream is pent into a narrow channel, and at one place forms rapids, where the water eddies in a tumultuous manner. About five o'clock we reach the little town of Orsova, which is the outpost of the Austrian dominions. It is a sweet spot, enclosed by wooded hills, and very like some of our highland glens. Here we changed steamers and went into one of

CYTOKM

lighter draught, and tarried all night. I landed and had a silent stroll before sunset, and was greatly pleased by the loveliness of the scene.

This morning I was up by five and we set sail about six, and since then have been passing through scenery of remarkable grandeur. For several miles the banks overlook the river to the height of one thousand feet or thereabouts, almost perpendicularly, and the stream was pent into a narrow gorge, some two or three hundred yards wide. It was the pass of Killiecrankie prolonged for several miles, with a mighty river rolling through it. This sublime pass is known by the name of “The Iron Gates," and a very good one it is. And now, as I write, the river is swelling out into winding curves, making beautiful bays among the wooded hills, and in some of these little villages are nestling. Just now we approach a narrow strait, and I see the foaming waters swirling over. The stately vessel is ploughing its way up, and soon we will shoot over that line of foam. Now we are passing through the surf, and it causes a tremor in the ship, and it reminds me a little of the rapids of the St. Lawrence, though not so fierce as they; but the scenery on the banks is far finer than on the St. Lawrence. I look up now to richly-wooded hills, shelving down to the water's edge, and I see the mouths of numerous glens peeping out between them, and there are strips of green pasture land along the brink. Just above me on the right is a stupendous rock, with a smooth upright face several hundred feet high. It raises its craggy head out of deep thickets, and frowns down upon the waters gloriously.

I now close up this letter at a little place called Bazias, where we take the railroad for Pesth, the capital of Hungary.

I returned home by Buda Pesth and Vienna-both splendid cities and reached Liverpool about the middle of June. This was the most interesting trip I ever made. I travelled nearly eight months incessantly, journeying among peoples speaking twelve or fifteen languages, often with only a native servant, and obtained an acquaintance with Oriental life which stood me in good stead afterwards. From a business point of view it was of great value, as I formed a permanent connexion with India, and next year entered into partnership with a Bombay firm. My health was greatly improved by the open-air life and constant sunshine. During my whole journey I hardly encountered a shower of rain!