visit to a Turkish gentleman in his garden, it so happened that two of his nieces, not knowing that any one was calling, came to greet their uncle. Surprised at seeing a man with him, the young ladies started back, as gazelles might start at the sight of a hunter. Their uncle, however, summoned them to return, and with extreme courtesy introduced them to his visitor, with the information that one of the young ladies could speak English. Conversation in that language had not gone far, when another gentleman was announced. Instantly the girls sprang to their feet and darted away as for dear life. “See,” said the uncle in tones of mingled vexation and sorrow, “See what it is to be an educated Turkish lady!” [Illustration: THE SWEET WATERS OF ASIA Another favourite pleasure resort much frequented by Turkish ladies in summer.] A Turkish gentleman of high rank wishing his daughters to enjoy the advantage of a European education, but anxious to spare them as much as possible the chagrin and ennui of being educated above the station of a Turkish lady, hoped to attain his object by having his girls learn to speak French without being able to read in that language. Such experiences are disheartening. But, as the pale flowers which come ere winter has wholly gone herald the spring and foretell the glory of summer, so the recent improvements in the lot of Turkish women, however slight they may appear meantime, warrant the hope of further progress and final emancipation. CHAPTER XIII EPILOGUE TO live in Constantinople is to live in a very wide world. The city, it is true, is not a seat of lofty intellectual thought. Upon none of its hills have the Muses come to dwell. It is not a centre of literary activity; it is not a home of Art. Here is no civic life to share, no far-reaching public works of philanthropy to enlarge the heart, no comprehensive national life to inspire patriotism, no common religious institutions to awaken the sense of a vast brotherhood enfolded within the same great and gracious heavens. If one is so inclined, it is easy for life here to be exceedingly petty. And yet, it is certain that to live in Constantinople is to live in a wide world. It is not for any lack of incentive that a resident here fails “to think imperially” or to feel on an imperial scale. When a man possessed by the genius of the place quits the city to reside elsewhere, the horizon of his life contracts and dwindles, as when a man descends from the wide views of a mountain peak to the life pent within the walls of a valley. For nowhere else is the mind not only confronted, but, if one may thus express it, assailed by so many varied subjects demanding consideration, or the heart appealed to by so many interests for its sympathy.