The Greeks make almost as much toilette for a funeral as for a marriage. Where the deceased is young and pretty, she is decked out in her gayest apparel, and not unfrequently has her eyebrows stained, and a quantity of rouge spread over her cheeks, to cheat death for a few brief hours of his lividness; her gloved hands are carefully displayed; she is tricked out in jewels; and this frightful mockery is rendered still more revolting by the fact that she is thus paraded through the streets, followed by her female relatives, who weep, and shriek, and bewail themselves with a transient violence truly national. At the grave-side all the finery is stripped from the stiffened corpse: the friends carry it away; a cover is placed over the coffin; and the poor remains, that were only a few instants previously so lavishly adorned, are consigned to the earth of which they are so soon to form a part. CHAPTER XXIV. The Fèz Manufactory—Singular Scene—A Turk at Prayers—Pretty Girls—Progress of Turkish Industry—Mustapha Effendi—Process of Manufactures—Omer Effendi and the Arabs—Avanis Aga, the Armenian—The Fraud Discovered—The Imperial Apartments—Departure for the Seraï-Bournou—The Outer Court—The Orta Kapoussi—The Pestle and Mortar of the Ulémas—The Garden of Delight—The Column of Theodosius—Arrival of the Sultan—Ancient Greek Inscriptions—Confused Inscription—The Diamond—Memories of Sultan Selim. No traveller should leave Constantinople without paying a visit to the Fèz Manufactory of Eyoub, where all the caps for the Sultan’s armies are now made. The building, which is entirely modern, and admirably adapted to its purpose, stands in the port, near the palace of Azmè Sultane, on the site of an ancient Imperial residence. It is under the control of Omer Lufti Effendi, late Governor of Smyrna, a man of known probity and talent:[10] and its immediate superintendence has been intrusted to Mustapha Effendi; whose ready courtesy to strangers enables European travellers to form an accurate idea of the state and progress of the establishment. After a delightful row from Galata, we landed at the celebrated pier of Eyoub; and, accompanied by a personal friend of Mustapha Effendi, proceeded to the manufactory, which we entered by the women’s door. As we passed the threshold a most curious scene presented itself. About five hundred females were collected together in a vast hall, awaiting the delivery of the wool which they were to knit; and a more extraordinary group could not perhaps be found in the world.