on. Rhenish wine sparkles
here; confectionery glitters there; and fruit looks bright and tempting
in a third place. No guest turns round to eye the company; because he is
intent upon the luxuries which invite his immediate attention, or he is
in close conversation with an intimate friend, or a beloved female. They
talk and laugh--and the present seems to be the happiest moment of their
lives.

All is gaiety and good humor. You return again to the foot-promenade,
and look sharply about you, as you move onward, to catch the spark of
beauty, or admire the costume of taste, or confess the power of
expression. It is an Albanian female who walks yonder, wondering, and
asking questions, at every thing she sees. The proud Jewess, supported
by her husband and father, moves in another direction. She is covered
with brocade and flaunting ribbons; but she is abstracted from
everything around her, because her eyes are cast downward upon her
stomacher, or sideways to obtain a glimpse of what may be called her
spangled epaulettes. Her eye is large and dark; her nose is aquiline;
her complexion is of an olive brown; her stature is majestic, her dress
is gorgeous, her gait is measured--and her demeanor is grave and
composed. "She must be very rich," you say--as she passes on. "She is
prodigiously rich," replies the friend, to whom you put the
question--for seven virgins, with nosegays of choicest flowers, held up
her bridal train; and the like number of youths, with silver-hilted
swords, and robes of ermine and satin, graced the same bridal ceremony.
Her father thinks he can never do enough for her; and her husband, that
he can never love her sufficiently.

Whether she be happy or not, in consequence, we have no time to stop to
inquire, for see yonder! Three "turbaned Turks" make their advances. How
gaily, how magnificently they are attired! What finely proportioned
limbs--what beautifully formed features! They have been carousing,
peradventure, with some young Greeks--who have just saluted them, en
passant--at the famous coffee-house before mentioned. Everything around
you is novel and striking; while the verdure of the trees and lawns is
yet fresh, and the sun does not seem yet disposed to sink below the
horizon. The carriages still move on, and return, in measured
procession. Those who are within, look earnestly from the windows, to
catch a glance of their passing friends. The fair hand is waved here;
the curiously-painted fan is s