failing
to comply with this custom, happens to ride through the precincts of
the palace. Our Turk, however, forgot all this, and was instantly
arrested and insulted by the officer of the guard and the soldiers, who
dragged him into the guard-house, preparatory to his being sent off to
prison. Having discovered that he was mistaken for an Englishman, and
finding matters were assuming a rather serious aspect, he luckily
bethought of saying he was a Russian, "Rusky effendi ben! Rusky, Rusky!"
roared he. Consternation immediately spread itself over the sleepy
countenances of the Turks at this announcement. The captain, in the
utmost alarm, begged his pardon, and pipes, coffee, ices, &c. were
offered him by the soldiers, who declared themselves ready to fulfil his
slightest commands. The captain of the guard, as well as he could
explain himself, enquired why did he not say at once that he was a
Russian? "Mashallah! it was an unlucky mistake. Am I not blind, not to
see that you were no Englishman?" Further to propitiate the newly
created Muscovite colonel's wrath, a guard of five men, a guard of
honour,--hear it, ye Englishmen!--was sent to conduct him safe home, and
to protect him from further insult; and with this guard of honour,
Costingen the Turk actually marched through the streets of Pera, and
came to Tongo's house!

[Sidenote: GREEKS AND TURKS.] Such is the respect paid to the subjects
of an energetic government. Yet it must not be supposed that the Russian
finds any real sympathy in the breasts of the people: no! the Turks hate
them as they do Satan, and declare in private that they would "spit upon
their beards, and burn their fathers;" an oriental expression,
indicative of extreme hatred and contempt.

It was very late when I started from Tophana[13] to return to Terapia.
The evening was calm and beautiful, and as the caique glided slowly up
the stream, following all the sinuosities of the shore, the jasmine and
orange flower, and the sweet roses which are now blooming in myriads,
filled the air with their perfumed odours.

[Sidenote: TURKISH PUNCHINELLO.] As we passed the house of the Moslem,
all was gloomy silence; but on nearing a Greek village, the enlivening
sound of the song, the guitar, and followed by bursts of merriment,
broke upon the ear; and the frequent clapping of hands, and the strain
of the romaika, or the Italian waltz, which came floating over the
water, told of the merry joyous inmates, who a