a dog which lives in the next street trespasses. Then
they eat him up, for they are jackals as well as dogs, and they are no
more epicures than ostriches. They never show interest in anything.
They are _blase_. I saw some mother dogs asleep, with tiny puppies
swarming over them like little fat rats, but the mothers paid no
attention to them. Children seem to bore them quite as successfully as
if they were women of fashion.

We went sailing up the Golden Horn to the Skutari cemetery, one of the
loveliest spots of this thrice-fascinating Constantinople. As we were
descending that steep hill upon which it is situated we met a darling
little baby Turk in a fez riding on a pony which his father was
leading. This child of a different race, and six thousand miles away,
looked so much like our Billy that I wanted to eat him up--dirt and
all. I contented myself with giving him backsheesh, while my companion
photographed him. Such an afternoon as that was on that lovely golden
river, with the sun just setting, and our picturesque boatmen sending
the boat through thousands upon thousands of sea-gulls just to make
them fly, until the air grew dark with their wings, and the sunlight
on their white breasts looked like a great glistening snow-storm!

One night we went to a masked ball given for the benefit of a new
hospital which is situated upon the Golden Horn. It was given by Mr.
Levy, one of the Turkish Commissioners at the World's Fair, and the
decorations were something marvellous. The walls were hung with
embroideries which drove us the next day to the bazaars and nearly
bankrupted us. Every street of Constantinople looks like a masked
ball, so this one merely continued the illusion. We could distinguish
the Mohammedan women from the others because they all went home before
midnight without unmasking.

This ball is interesting because it is called "The Engagement Ball."
We were told that only at a subscription ball given for a charity in
which their parents are interested and feel under moral obligation to
support by their presence are the young people of Constantinople
allowed to meet each other. The fathers and mothers occupy the boxes,
and thus, under their very eyes, and masked, can love affairs be
brought to a conclusion. During the week which followed no fewer than
ten important engagements were duly heralded in the columns of the
newspapers.

The most exciting things in Constantinople are the earthquakes. We
were af