The short voyage was made in lovely weather, when the spring air was redolent with perfume and freshness, and scarcely a ripple moved the blue waters of the Bosphorus. Miss Nightingale greatly enjoyed being on deck as the vessel glided past some of the most beautiful scenes in that Eastern land. There rose the mosques and minarets of Constantinople, enveloped, as it seemed, in golden vapour, then the Golden Horn was passed, and the European and Asiatic shores opened out in a scene of Oriental beauty. The picturesque caiques skimmed the waters like magic craft, and Miss Nightingale was fortunate in seeing the gorgeous flotilla of the Sultan, consisting of large caiques brilliantly decorated with gilded and rich silken hangings, and manned by gaily dressed oarsmen, leave the marble staircase of the Dolmabatchke Palace to convey the Sultan and his suite to the Mosque of Sultan Mahomet, for it was Friday, the Turkish Sunday. Fifty guns proclaimed the departure of the nautical procession. Then Kullali was passed, and the voyagers thought sadly of the young sister who had recently died there at her post in the hospital. On went the vessel, past the Sweet Waters of Asia, where the Turks hold high festival, and the resorts of Therapia and Buyukdére, until at length the dazzling Oriental coast was almost lost to view as the ship entered the Black Sea. However, Miss Nightingale’s delight in the sights and scenes through which she was passing did not render her oblivious to her fellow-passengers. There were six hundred soldiers on board and many officers and Government officials. The second day of the voyage, being Sunday, Miss Nightingale, accompanied by the captain, visited the lower deck and talked with the soldiers, and having heard that there were some invalids on board, asked to see them. In passing from sufferer to sufferer, she at length came to a fever patient who had refused to take his medicine. “Why will you not take the medicine?” asked Miss Nightingale. “Because I took some once,” the man replied, “and it made me sick; and I haven’t liked physic ever since.” “But if I give it to you myself,” said the Queen of Nurses with a pleasant smile, “you will take it, won’t you?” The poor fellow looked very hard at her and replied, “Well, sure enough, ma’am, it will make me sick just the same.” However, he took the draught and forgot the anticipated consequence as Miss Nightingale chatted to him about the last engagement he was in.