a eunuch would pull a cord, a green curtain would roll up, and through a wide window would be seen the Bosphorus, Asia, hundreds of vessels, floods of light; then it would all disappear, and we would be left dazed and blinded as though a lamp had been flashed in our eyes. From one window we caught sight of a little garden the high blank walls of which, as bare and forbidding-looking as those of a convent, suggested at once all sorts of fancies about beautiful women deprived of love and liberty, and then it was suddenly shut out of view by the dropping of the curtain. The rooms seemed unending, and at the sight of each new doorway we would quicken our steps, hoping this time to enter before we were expected; but all in vain: not so much as the flutter of a garment rewarded our efforts; every odalisque had vanished, and a profound and death-like stillness hung over the entire building. That rustling sound which made us turn and glance back so quickly was but the noise of the heavy brocade curtain as it fell back in place, while the silvery tinkle of the crystal candelabras mocked us by its resemblance to the light laughter of some hidden fair one. [Illustration: Cemetery of Eyûb and View of the Golden Horn.] And so at last we became utterly wearied out by this never-ending progress through the silent palace and amid that lifeless magnificence--tired of seeing the black faces of the eunuchs, the watchful, sedate crowd of servants, and our own incongruous Bohemian countenances reflected in the huge mirrors which lined the walls; and, reaching the last door almost on a run, we breathed a sigh of heartfelt satisfaction at finding ourselves once more in the open air surrounded by the miserable dwellings and ragged, clamorous population of the Topkhâneh quarter. EYÛB.