The bath-room of the Pasha, or rather of his family, was a domed cabinet, lined with marble, moderately heated, and entered from the loveliest little boudoir imaginable, where a sofa of brocaded silk, piled with cushions of gold tissue, offered the means of repose after the exhaustion of bathing. But I had seen it tenanted only by a Greek lady and myself, and half a score of slaves, who were all occupied in attendance upon us; and I felt at once that, under such circumstances, I could form no adequate idea of what is understood by a Turkish bath; the terrestrial paradise of Eastern women, where politics, social and national, scandal, marriage, and every other subject under heaven, within the capacity of uneducated but quick-witted females, is discussed: and where ample revenge is taken for the quiet and seclusion of the harem, in the noise, and hurry, and excitement, of a crowd. Having passed through a small entrance-court, we entered an extensive hall, paved with white marble, and surrounded by a double tier of projecting galleries, supported by pillars: the lower range being raised about three feet from the floor. These galleries were covered with rich carpets, or mattresses, overlaid with chintz or crimson shag, and crowded with cushions; the spaces between the pillars were slightly partitioned off to the height of a few inches; and, when we entered, the whole of the boxes, if I may so call them, were occupied, save the one which had been reserved for us. In the centre of the hall, a large and handsome fountain of white marble, pouring its waters into four ample scallop shells, whence they fell again into a large basin with the prettiest and most soothing sound imaginable, was surrounded by four sofas of the same material, on one of which, a young and lovely woman, lay pillowed on several costly shawls, nursing her infant. When I had established myself comfortably among my cushions, I found plenty of amusement for the first half hour in looking about me; and a more singular scene I never beheld. On the left hand of the door of entrance, sat the proprietress of the baths, a beautiful woman of about forty, in a dark turban, and a straight dress of flowered cotton, girt round the waist with a cachemire shawl; her chemisette of silk gauze was richly trimmed—her gold snuff-box lay on the sofa beside her—her amber-headed pipe rested against a cushion—and she was amusing herself by winding silk from a small ebony distaff, and taking a prominent part in the conversation; while immediately behind her squatted a negro slave-girl of twelve or thirteen years of age, grinning from ear to ear, and rolling the whites of her large eyes in extacy at all that was going forward.