Turkey is like a stately forest-tree which has been cankered at the core, but which has shot forth young and vigorous branches after it had been condemned as on the eve of perishing. A weighty pressure has fallen upon the fresh green shoots; but let it only be removed, and once more the branches will stretch broadly and boldly forth, and cast their long shadows far across the earth. Sultan Mahmoud would fain be the regenerator of his country; but he cannot resist, single-handed, an enemy more powerful, and, above all, more subtle than himself. The Turks are bad politicians—they do not hold the keys of their own citadel; and their game is overlooked on all sides. Had they sincere assistance, all Europe would soon be convinced of that to which she now appears blind—the great moral power of the Turkish people, and the incalculable advantages of their alliance. I scarcely know how I have suffered myself to be deluded into this digression; and my only apology for its indulgence is the earnest interest which I have learnt to feel in the existence of a great and magnificent Empire, bowed beneath the smiling sophistries of its most dangerous enemy. The shady saloon of Azmè Bey, with its many windows, all opening upon a delicious garden overhung with fruit trees, and forming a leafy screen amid which we caught here and there a blue bright glimpse of the Bosphorus, was half filled with guests, to whom we were presented with the ease and politeness of intuitive good breeding; and in a few minutes we were all engaged in an animated conversation, or rather set of conversations. The Greek lady was discussing the merits of the divan, in Italian, with a gentleman near her; M. de Ghies was still talking English with my father; and the Bey and myself were busy with Von Hammer’s work on the East, and communicating our opinions in French: nor was this all—for a party of the guests were murmuring out their soft, harmonious Turkish at the other extremity of the apartment; while the voices of the Arabs in the outer room came to us at intervals, as they passed and repassed the door of the saloon in which we sat.