Another similar but less extensive failure of the extraordinary fabric in a yard near the Sublime Porte betrayed its extent in that direction; a third took place in the immediate neighbourhood of St. Sophia; and a fourth within the walls of the Record Office; thus affording an assurance that the cistern extended for several leagues beneath the city. Further than this the Constantinopolitan authorities cannot throw any light on its dimensions; and, as far as I was individually concerned, I am not quite sure that this fact did not increase the interest of the locality—the mysterious distance into which man is forbidden to penetrate—the long lines of columns deepening in tint, and diminishing in their proportions as they recede—the sober twilight that softens every object—and the dreamy stillness that lords it over this singular Water Palace, which the voice of man can awaken for a brief space into long-drawn and unearthly echoes, that sweep onward into the darkness, and ere they are quite lost to the ear, appear to shape themselves into words: all combined to invest the spot with an awful and thrilling character, which, to an imaginative mind, were assuredly more than an equivalent for the privilege of determining its limits. The second local anecdote related to us by the Kiära was that of an Englishman, who, only a few months previous to our visit, had requested permission to make use of the little boat that had replaced the one in which the traveller, to whom I have already alluded, had been lost. Many objections were started; and the fate of his unfortunate countryman was insisted upon as the reason of the refusal; but on his repeated promises of prudence, the old Effendi at length consented to his wish; and having lighted a couple of torches, and affixed them to the stern of the boat, the traveller drew out a large quantity of strong twine, which he made fast to one of the pillars, leaving the ball to unwind itself as he proceeded. As no one could be found who was willing to accompany him, he started alone; and hour after hour went by without sign of his return; until, as the fourth hour was on the eve of completion, the flame of the torches lit up the distance, and was reflected back by the gleaming columns. The wanderer sprang from the boat chilled and exhausted; and, in answer to the inquiries of those about him, he stated that he had progressed for two hours in a straight line, but that he had seen nothing more than what they looked upon themselves—the vaulted roof above his head, the water beneath his feet, and a wilderness of pillars rising on all sides, and losing themselves in the darkness. This second adventure so alarmed the worthy old Osmanli to whom the boat belonged, that he caused it to be immediately destroyed; and visitors are now compelled to content themselves with a partial view of _Yèrè-Batan-Seraï_ from the ruined opening.