The Turks do not inquire very closely into secret vices, that they may not give an opportunity for false charges, but they punish severely open profligacy and crimes that are detected. I am afraid your ears have been offended by my account of such an instance of wickedness; but, if I can, I will remove by a pleasanter story any disagreeable impressions the former may have left, for I am quite sure you will have a good laugh over what I am going to tell you. There came lately during the disturbances in Hungary a courier from the Emperor. The Pashas desired that he should not as usual be brought directly to me, but first be taken to the Divan, their object being to know the contents of the Emperor’s letters before they were delivered to me, as they suspected that many things were suppressed, and that I did not give them a faithful account of the tenor of despatches. The courier, however, foreseeing what was coming, concealed the Emperor’s packet, and delivered only my private letters. The Pashas had been previously informed by their interpreter Ibrahim, who is by birth a Pole, that despatches which contained confidential instructions were not written in the usual characters, but in a new sort of letters; namely, in what we call cipher. As they were examining all the letters, they chanced to come upon one from a friend of mine, the Burgundian Secretary, which Ibrahim perceived was written on unusually thin paper, through which the letters could be seen when held to the light. He exclaimed, ‘I have found it,’ and told them to let the others be, saying this was the one that contained important matter. The Pashas, telling him to break the seal, read it, and translate it, assumed an attitude of attention and expectation. Ibrahim, however, declared that he could not make out a single letter. At this the Pashas were amazed, and asked him if he had never learnt, or had forgotten, Christian characters? to which Ibrahim replied, that this kind of writing was known only to the confidential secretaries of Sovereigns. As they did not clearly understand his answer, they said: ‘But if so, why do you delay? why don’t you hurry off at once to the Secretary of the Venetian or the Florentine Baily?’ Off flew Ibrahim in hot haste. Now the letter was written in such characters that a boy ten years old could have read it, but both the Secretaries, seeing it was addressed to me, after one glance returned it, declaring that without a knowledge of the private key it was impossible for anyone to decipher the writing. Ibrahim returned with this reply, and the Pashas then deliberated what was to be done. Then some one made the following suggestion: ‘There is in the city the Patriarch, who is acquainted with many kinds of characters; if he, being an old man and a Christian, cannot read them no one else can.’ They agreed to the proposal, but the Patriarch declared that he could not make out a single jot of them, for the characters were