and glared hungrily at the huge joints of meat
which the butchers' lads carried through the crowd, forcing their way
past the delicate Western ladies, who drew back in horror at the sight
of so much raw beef, and through knots of well-dressed men standing
before the cafes in the narrow street. Numberless soldiers moved in the
crowd, tall, fair Turks, with broad shoulders and blue eyes, in the
shabby uniform of the foot-guards, but looking as though they could
fight as well as any smart Prussian grenadier, as indeed they can when
they get enough to eat. Now and then a closed sedan-chair moved rapidly
along, borne by sturdy Kurds, and occasionally a considerable
disturbance was caused by the appearance of a carriage. Paul and I
strolled down the steep street, past Galata Tower and down into Galata
itself.

"Shall we cross?" asked Paul, as we reached the bridge.

"Let us go up the Bosphorus," I said. "There will probably be a steamer
before long."

He assented readily enough. It was about eleven o'clock in the
morning,--five by the Turkish clocks,--and the day was magnificent. The
sun was high, and illuminated everything in the bright, cold air, so
that the domes and minarets of the city were white as snow, with bluish
shadows, while the gilded crescents and spires glistened with unnatural
brilliancy in the clear winter's daylight. It is hard to say whether
Stamboul is more beautiful at any one season of the year than during the
other three, for every season brings with it some especial loveliness,
some new phase of color. You may reach Serai point on a winter's morning
in a driving snow-storm, so that everything is hidden in the gray veil
of the falling flakes; suddenly the clouds will part and the sunlight
will fall full upon the city, so that it seems as if every mosque and
spire were built of diamonds. Or you may cross to Scutari in the early
dawn of a morning in June, when the sky is like a vast Eastern flower,
dark blue in the midst overhead, the petals shaded with every tint to
the faint purple on the horizon; and every hue in turn passes over the
fantastic buildings, as the shadows gradually take color from the sky,
and the soft velvety water laps up the light in broad pools and delicate
streaks of tinted reflection. It is always beautiful, always new; but of
all times, I think the hour when the high sun illuminates most
distinctly everything on land and sea is the time when Stamboul is most
splendid and queenl