The infant lay upon a cushion of white satin, richly embroidered with coloured silks, and trimmed like the sheet; and was itself a mass of gold brocade and diamonds. But the young mother principally attracted my attention. As I entered, she was flinging over her child a small coverlet of crimson velvet, most gorgeously wrought with gold; and as the sleeves of her striped silk antery and gauze chemisette fell back to the elbow, her white and dimpled arms circled by bracelets of brilliants, and her small hand glittering with jewelled rings, were revealed in all their beauty. Her dark hair was braided in twenty or thirty small plaits, that fell far below her waist, as she leant against a cushion similar to that on which she had pillowed her infant. Her throat was encircled by several rows of immense pearls, whence depended a diamond star, resting upon her bosom; her chemisette was delicately edged by a gold beading, and met at the bottom of her bust, where her vest was confined by a costly shawl. Her head-dress, of blue gauze worked with silver, was studded with diamond sprays, and ornamented with a fringe of large gold coins, which fell upon her shoulders, and almost concealed her brilliant earrings. Her satin antery was of the most lively colours, and her salva were of pale pink silk, sprinkled with silver spots. A glass vase of white lilies rested against her pillow, and a fan of peacocks’ feathers, and a painted handkerchief, lay beside her. Previously to her confinement, she had plucked out the whole of her eyebrows, and had replaced them by two stripes of black dye, raised about an inch higher upon the forehead. This is a common habit with the Turkish women on great occasions; and they no where display more coquetry or more decided bad taste than in the arrangement of their eyebrows, which they paint in all kinds of fantastic shapes; sometimes making them meet across the nose, and sometimes raising them at the outer point to the temples! I have seen many a pretty woman destroyed by this whim. I was conducted with great ceremony to the sofa, when I had saluted the Hanoum, and uttered my “Mashallah” as I leant over the infant; which, poor little thing! was almost smothered in finery; and, having taken my seat, I had time to contemplate the singular scene around me. I have alluded elsewhere to the facility with which the working classes of Turkey obtain access into the houses of the wealthy. On every occasion of rejoicing, the door is open to all; it is the sofa only which is sacred; but the poor share in all the enjoyments of the festival; the coffee and sherbet is served to them, if not with the same ceremony, at least with the same welcome, as to the prouder guests; they listen to the music—they mingle in the conversation—they join in the gaiety—and they are never made to feel that their lot is cast in a more lowly rank than that of their entertainer.