The Military College—Achmet Pasha and Azmi Bey—Study of Azmi Bey—His grateful Memories of England and the English—The Establishment—The Lithographic Presses—Extemporaneous Poetry—Halls of Study—Number of Students—Mathematical Hall—The Sultan’s Gallery—The Mosque—The Mufti—The Turkish Creed—The Imperial Closet—The Gallery of the Imperial Suite—The Retiring-Room—The Printing-Office—The Hospital—The Refectory—The Professor of Fortification—Negro Officers—Moral Condition of the College—Courtesy of the Officers—Deficiencies of the Professors—The Turks a Reading People—Object of the Institution—Reasons of its Failure—Smiling Enemies—Forlorn Hope—Russian Influence—Saduk Agha—Achmet Pasha—Azmi Bey—Apology for my Prolixity. The Military College, which, from its extent, and the lavish liberality of its arrangements, may well be termed a princely establishment, occupies the crest of a hill immediately above the Imperial palace of Dolma Batché, signifying the “Valley of Gourds”—and the tall minaret of its mosque shoots upwards into the blue heaven with the grace and lightness of a sky-winged arrow; while the gilded crescent in the centre of the dome reflects back the sparkling sunbeams as they flash upon its glittering surface. As I had brought an introductory letter to Achmet Pasha, the governor, and had been personally acquainted in London with Azmi Bey, the Military Commandant, and, in fact, Principal of the Institution, I experienced no difficulty whatever in obtaining permission to pay it a visit; and I accordingly proceeded thither, accompanied by my father and a couple of friends, who were, like myself, anxious to form a correct opinion of the establishment. We were met at the great entrance by the young Bey himself, who welcomed us with the most sincere cordiality; and, offering me his arm with a ready politeness quite European, he conducted us to his private apartment, or, perhaps, I should rather call it, study. This very cheerful and comfortable room, situated at an angle of the building, and commanding two magnificent points of view, was thickly hung with English and French engravings, principally interiors of our metropolitan buildings, college-halls, theatres, and other places of public resort, highly coloured—a large stove gave forth an agreeable warmth—the window seats were strown with books and papers—a few maps were lying upon a side table—a curious collection of volumes was gathered together in a small bookcase—and the apartment had altogether a more furnished and snug look than any which I had yet seen inhabited by a Turk—there were flowers also in a glass vase; and a paper-presser on which a sleeping Cupid lay stretched listlessly among his fabled roses—the souvenir of an European friend.