The policy of Russia has been as steady and consistent as it is ambitious. What a prophet was the Empress Catherine! How perfectly she foretold the fate of Turkey. While all the other nations have suffered their interest in the Ottoman Empire to evaporate in words, and have flaunted their oratory in the eye of day, Russia has never betrayed herself by studied phrases to the crowd; but like the giant in the fable, she has drawn on her seven-league boots, and strode silently over land and sea to her object. She has set all her engines to work; and they have wrought well. She has spared neither gold nor flattery. She has enlisted in her favour all the social feelings of the Turks. And the little presents of the Empress to the children of certain popular Pashas; and the embroidery said to have been wrought by her own Imperial hand, and sent to the ladies of their harems, are as efficacious in their way as the diamonds, the horses, and the carriages presented to the Sultan; or the pensions paid to half a dozen influential individuals of the court. Alas for Turkey! Her relative position with her specious ally resembles that of a huge animal in the coil of a Boa Constrictor, which must be smoothed down gently and gradually, ere it can be safely gorged. Its fate is but protracted; the moment of ingurgitation will come at last; and when the serpent-folds are uncoiled, and the sated monster lies luxuriously down to digest its prey, those who have looked on, and pledged themselves to the impossibility of the feat, will find too late that it is not only perfectly practicable, but actually accomplished. And yet France has her countless soldiery—and England her unrivalled navy—both eager to earn new glory. England and France, on whom the Osmanlis leaned with a perfect faith, and by both of whom they have been abandoned—Where is the chivalry of the one, and the philanthropy of the other?