We remained some time talking over past days, and I was sincerely pleased by the fond and grateful manner in which he spoke of England, and his English acquaintance. He reminded me of several little by-gone incidents, inquired for particular individuals, and exhibited a warmth of feeling and interest in the past for which I was scarcely prepared. During the conversation, tea was handed to us in the Russian fashion by his dragoman, attended by two negro slaves, and after partaking of it we commenced our survey of the establishment. [Illustration: Miss Pardoe del. Day & Haghe Lith^{rs}. to the King. THE MILITARY COLLEGE. _Pub^d. by Henry Colburn, 13 G^t. Marlborough S^t._] The main building forms three sides of a square, and the centre of the fourth is occupied by an elegant kiosk-like edifice, containing the lithographic presses. Here we found an individual designing a very neatly-ornamented sheet-almanac, of which he had sketched the border with great delicacy. All the machinery is English, and appears to be in constant use. I have omitted to mention that, before we quitted the apartment of Azmi Bey, he presented to us several of the Professors, who entered to pay their respects. Among these, the most remarkable was Saduk Agha, a Prussian renegade, who speaks French, Italian, and Turkish fluently, and has a considerable knowledge of English. After conversing with him for some time on the merits of lithography, and examining a number of drawings, principally military figures, that had been executed by the pupils of the establishment, and were many of them of considerable merit; he joined his entreaties to those of Azmi Bey that I would write a few lines as evidence of my visit, which they might put under the press. Finding that they were both determined to succeed, and not considering the point worthy of contention, I complied with the request, not a little amused at my first appearance in print in Turkey: and I much doubt whether any thing that I have hitherto written, am now writing, or may hereafter write, will ever be read and re-read with so much apparent _gusto_ as the half dozen lines of doggrel verse which I improvised on a scrap of torn paper, _sur la plante des pieds_, surrounded by about a score of Turkish spectators.