As in Japan, the popular belief is firm that the King never dies, so in Turkey the Sovereign is never permitted to imagine that he can grow old; and thus every officer of the household stains his hair and beard, and uses all the means with which art or invention can supply him, in order that no intrusive symptom of age or decay may shock the nerves, and awaken the regrets of his lord and contemporary—the faded beauties of the Seraglio are removed from his sight, the past is seldom adverted to, and the future is considered as his sure and undoubted heritage. Never did monarch lend himself to the delicious cheat more lovingly than Sultan Mahmoud; who, with all his energy of character, is the victim (for in his case I can apply no other term) of the most consummate personal vanity. We are accustomed in England to think of George the Fourth as the _ne plus ultra_ of exquisitism—the Prince of _Petit-maîtres_—but what will honest John Bull say to a Turkish Emperor, an Imperial Mussulmaun, who paints white and red, and who considers himself sufficiently repaid for all the care and anxiety of a costly toilette, by the admiration and flattery of the ladies of the Seraglio? And yet such is the case—the Immolator of the Janissaries, the reformer of a mighty empire, the sovereign of the gravest people upon earth, is a very “thing of shreds and patches”—a consumer of cosmetics—an idolater of gauds and toys—the Sacrificing High Priest at the altar of self-adornment! On a recent occasion, having caused his hair (of which he is extremely vain) to be cut by the court _coiffeur_, he withdrew his _fèz_ and inquired of his son-in-law, Halil Pasha, if he approved of the style in which it had been done. The Favorite, with a sincerity which did him honour, replied that the Imperial Head had been most basely shorn; and was forthwith desired to display the honours of his own cranium to his Sublime Highness, who immediately acquiesced in the superior skill of the artist who had operated upon the Pasha; and desired that, without a moment’s delay, the happy mortal who had exhibited such distinguished taste in curling and cutting should be summoned to his presence. In five minutes, half a dozen of the palace officers were _en route_ in search of the _coiffeur_, who was accidentally from home: and it was not until after a considerable delay that he was discovered, basin in hand, and razor in grasp, busily engaged in shaving the head of a grave-looking Armenian, who had already undergone half the operation. Despite the lathered skull of the customer, and the terrified deprecations of the _artiste_, the officers, who were utterly ignorant of the Sultan’s motive for summoning their prisoner, pounced upon him without mercy, and rather dragged than conducted him to the caïque that was waiting to convey him to the palace; whither he was followed by the silent and pitying wonder of the men, and the low wailing of the women.