It is only of late years, that those hot, repelling machines called stoves, have been introduced; but they have by no means superseded the social and old-fashioned tandur, whose warmth, and luxurious cushions, often beguile its occupants to slumber, during which the fire is overturned, and thus occur many of the conflagrations so frequent in Turkey. There are two occasions when the still air resounds with the echoes of human voices. The chant of the Muezzin from the minaré, slowly and musically vibrating through the atmosphere, enticing all to linger at the casement or in the thoroughfare to catch its melodious accents; and the terrible cry of yangun var! Fire! Fire! accompanied by the reverberations of the watchman's club striking upon the pavement. A thrill of horror pervades every heart, for there are no bounds to the devouring element. There are two towers, one at the Seraskér's in the city itself, and the other on the Galata hill, which command an extensive isometrical view of the whole metropolis and its suburbs. Here guards are stationed, who descry the first indications of fire, and immediately give, from the top of the towers, the requisite signal, by hoisting, in the day-time, an immense globe, painted red, and at night by producing a bright and steady light--these signals remain until the fire is extinguished. At Candilly, on the Asiatic shore of the Bosphorus, and half way up the stream, there are a battery and a flag-staff stationed on the mountain top called Kenan-tepessy; as soon as the signals are seen, the fire globe ascends the flag-staff, and the battery discharges a certain number of guns, according to the locality of the conflagration. From the towers, detailed officers, Neöbetgees, are dispatched to the different ministers, and guard houses, where the engines are kept, who create a tremendous sensation, as they rush wildly about, brandishing their batons of office, and with a protracted yell, warning every one to clear the way. The different Bekgees or district watchmen, now take up the cry--striking their iron-shod clubs on the pavement and repeating with all the power of their lungs yangun-var! Stambolda! or there is fire at Stamboul. The firemen assemble at their respective quarters, and shouldering their engines, rush to the scene. These firemen receive no pay, but are exempt from taxes and allowed certain other privileges--yet they always manage to extort certain compensations for their services, from the victims of the devastating element. The engines are small and portable, on account of the narrowness and steepness of the streets, nor is there any connexion-hose attached to them, the water being supplied with buckets; yet it is astonishing how much they effect even with such inadequate means.