Departure from Greece--Amusements at sea--The Dardanelles--Gallipoli--A philharmonic soirée--Approach to the Bosphorus--First view of the Scutari Hospital--Reflections--The deserted steamer--The lady and her maid--Beautiful scene--The Golden Horn--Castle of the Seven Towers--Kadikoi--General and Barrack Hospitals--Grand panorama--Various edifices--Stamboul--Grand Oriental pageant--The Sultan’s kitchens--The Harem--Punishment for Turkish ladies--The Leander Tower--A romantic tale--On shore again--The enchantment dissolves--First glimpse of a pacha--The terrace of my hotel. On leaving the Piræsus the weather was fine, and the sea as smooth as a lake. All our party were themselves again--jovial, happy, and talkative at meals; reading, writing, games at cards, draughts, dominoes, &c., filling up the time. We were like one happy and united family. I paid my daily visit to the _restaurateur_ and his _chef_, with whom I was soon on good terms. Towards evening, we collected on the upper deck, where many French sous-officiers from the second-class cabin joined us, and sang most admirably, from the simple ballad to the gay gaudriole, the high operatic solo, and comic or classic choruses. Next morning, we passed the straits and town of the Dardanelles, where the Allied flags were gaily floating from the houses of the respective Consulates. We made but a short stay in its cheerful and animated bay to deliver the mail. The rapid current, with the numbers of Greeks, in their gay costumes and slim caiques, trying to sell the passengers all sorts of things, and so do them out of a few piastres, rendered our short stay at that place highly amusing. Our next and last stay, before reaching Constantinople, was Gallipoli, where every one of our party landed, and remained on shore about an hour. General Cannon had an excellent idea; he sent some oysters on board, which made a good addition to our bill of fare. The Gallipoli oysters are small and ill-formed, but very sweet. The same cannot be said of the town and its inhabitants--both extremely dirty. Indeed, this first Oriental seaport contrasts most outrageously with the grand paraphernalia of the “Arabian Nights.” The evening before our arrival, to our sorrow, we learnt from the Captain that, owing to the favourable winds we had experienced during the last sixty hours, if nothing happened, we should enter the Bosphorus before daybreak. Thus all chance of the view of the grand panorama of Constantine, so highly praised by travellers, and especially by poets, which we had so long anticipated, was entirely lost. What can be more charming and refreshing, after a long sea-passage, where life has long been suspended in space between heaven and the mighty deep, than the gradual development of a cheerful panorama, a view of which we had been some time anticipating?