Scattered among these more assuming establishments were the stands of the itinerant merchants, whose little cupolaed fountains threw up a slender thread of water to the accompaniment of a tinkling sound, produced by the contact of half a dozen thin plates of metal; while a circle of sherbet glasses, filled with liquids of different colours, and interspersed with green boughs, and suspended lemons, looked so cool and refreshing that they were more tempting by far than the aristocratic establishments of the marquee owners. Here and there a flat tomb, fancifully covered with gold-embroidered handkerchiefs, was overspread with sweetmeats and preserved fruits; while, in the midst of these rival establishments, groups of men were seated in a circle, wherever a little shade could be obtained, smoking their long pipes in silence, with their diminutive coffee-cups resting on the ground beside them. The wooden kiosk overhanging the Bosphorus was crowded; and many a party was snugly niched among the acacias, with their backs resting against the tombs, and the sunshine flickering at their feet. But the leading feature of the festival was the Armenian dance, that was going forward in every direction, and which was so perfectly characteristic of the people that it merits particular mention. A large circle was formed, frequently consisting of between forty and fifty individuals, (chance comers falling in as they pleased without question or hindrance) holding each other by the hand, or round the neck, and wedged closely together so as to form a compact body; the leader of the dance being the only one who detached himself from the rest, and held the person next to him at arm’s length. In the centre of the ring stood, and sometimes danced, the musician, whose instrument was either a species of small, cracked guitar, with wire strings, which he struck with very slender regard to either time or tune; or a bagpipe precisely similar to that of Scotland, but not played in the same spirit-stirring style, the Armenian performer making no attempt at any thing beyond noise, and never by any accident forming three consecutive notes which harmonized; but his hearers were not fastidious, and the music was, at least, in good keeping with the dance. Beside the minstrel, such as I have described him, moved the buffoon of the company, who also, by some extraordinary and perfectly Armenian concatenation of ideas, acted as Master of the Ceremonies.