In twenty minutes we were off Therapia; and in ten more we entered the Bay of Buyukdèrè. By the time we reached this point, the fog had deepened so much as to render it uncertain whether we should be enabled to leave the Bosphorus until the following morning; a resolution to which the Russian steamer, the Nicholas I., had already come the more readily, as she had on board the mother and sister of Madame de Boutinieff, who were not anxious to tempt the perils of the Black Sea at so unpropitious a moment. Mr. Ellis, our late Ambassador in Persia, was also among her passengers; and, like the ladies, he was quietly preparing for a comfortable dinner at the Russian Palace. As we lay alongside, these tidings were communicated by the Captain of the Nicholas, who naturally endeavoured to induce our own to follow his example, and remain in the bay until daylight; but the Commander of the Ferdinand had too much energy to yield to the suggestion; and at seven o’clock in the evening, the weather having somewhat moderated, he summoned on board one of his passengers who had delayed his embarkation until the last moment, and set the steam on; when away we went to the great chagrin of the rival establishment: leaving behind us two or three of the deck passengers who had failed to pay attention to the signals which were made to announce to them our instant departure. Our party was a pleasant one. We had a Prussian Baron, tall, serious, and highly-bred; a German noble, gay, voluble, and _tant soit peu gourmand_; a Colonel of the Coldstream Guards; an Hungarian Cavalier, holding a distinguished rank in the Austrian service; a Russian-Greek Artist, bound on a tour of Italy, and full of enthusiasm both for himself and his art; the Captain of the Levant Steam-boat, on a survey of the Danube Navigation; my father, and myself. The deck was crowded with Turks, Greeks, and Jews; and among the rest by some poor old Turkish women on their way to Varna; and a couple of pretty young Greek girls bound for Galatz. All went on tolerably well until a couple of hours had elapsed, when one by one all the party began to disappear. The rude billows of the Black Sea replaced the comparatively smooth channel of the Bosphorus,—the light-houses of Fanaraki loomed through the fog,—we were fairly “at sea,”—and the spray began to fall in showers over the paddle-boxes, inundating all the shivering Orientals who had spread their mats and mattresses on that part of the deck. I never beheld a more perfect picture of wretchedness than one old Turkish woman, who, having resisted all the kindly attempts of the Captain to induce her to change her position, and having been fairly soaked through by a succession of the heavy seas which we were constantly shipping, at length permitted herself to be removed, and led aft to the tiller; where she instantly buried herself among the folds of the wet awning that had been flung there out of the way, and resigned herself to her misery.