of the different Barbary powers have their residence. On festival days, among other banners, I have observed here the corsair's dark red flag, of the richest silk, and the two edged sword in its centre. From this Mahometan corner, on coming more in front of the harbor and shipping, there is usually a narrow open space redeemed from the sea, which may be called water street. Parallel with this, and behind the first range of buildings, is Frank street. Narrow, and partly covered avenues, extend across from Frank to water street. Through the courtesy of the owners, these are usually thorough-fares during the day. In time of the plague, or any popular commotion, they are kept constantly closed, by means of strong folding doors. The foreign consuls, and principal Frank merchants, each of them own, or rather lease for ninety nine years, one of these short streets. Their dwelling houses and offices are built on both sides, and sometimes over the avenues. The principal front, is on either Frank or water street. They are usually of but two stories, on the lower floor of which, are their kitchens, and extensive warehouses; and on the upper, their own residence. There is also, often a long open promenade over warehouses of a single story. At the northern extremity of water street, after its junction with Frank street, there are some pleasant dwellings, but the sea in front of them becomes more shallow. All the Franks reside on these streets, and on Bond street, which is broader, and extends from the centre of Frank street, into the quarter of the rayahs.

A Frank, you need not be informed, is one who wears a hat, a privilege in this country of no small consequence, since at times it is almost equivalent to

that of wearing one's head. Besides Frenchmen, Englishmen, Americans, &c. to whom this term is properly applied, numbers of Greeks, Armenians and Jews, by purchasing the protection of the foreign consuls, with the distinguishing badge, derive also the advantages of Frankship. At present however, it is more difficult for the subjects of the Porte, thus clandestinely, to withdraw from their allegiance. All subjects, who are not Mahometans, whether they be Greeks, Armenians or Jews, are included under the general name of rayahs. In a more limited sense, this term is said to be applied to the Armenians only, but the three people are alike required to pay the capitation tax, and are subject to various disabilities. Not only their dress, but the color of their shoes is also prescribed by law.

From the Frank quarter extend back irregular, narrow and filthy lanes, inhabited first by Greeks, next by Armenians and Jews, and last by the Turks. Turktown, as it is called, is built partly on the acclivity of the hill. In popular usage, Turk-town includes all but the Frank quarter. The houses are built of wood, or of wood and earth, or unburnt bricks. Like those of most of the larger towns, nearly all, whether belonging to Turks or rayahs, are two stories high. The lower floor is devoted to culinary purposes, and the upper is mostly included in the sitting room. This contains little other furniture than the divan, or low fixed sofa, spread with matresses and bolsters, against two or three sides of the wall. The divan serves alternately for a seat by day, and with the addition of a blanket, for a bed by night. Hence it is, that one is so liable on a visit to the people of this country, to have

his garments covered with vermin of different kinds. The Turkish houses have windows of fine wooden lattice work; while those of the rayahs, are usually furnished with a close moveable shutter. An iron ring attached to the outer door, answers the purpose of a knocker. Connected with many of the houses, are gardens, of both fruit trees and vegetables.

Of course where fuel is so expensive, you need not look for chimneys or fire places. Though snow sometimes falls, and there are many days, such as we have had since our arrival, both wet and chilly, yet very few, besides the Franks, ever kindle a fire for comfort. Small sticks of wood which are sold by weight, and coal prepared from roots that are dug on the mountains, are used in cooking. You see their portable grates burning before the doors of their houses. The ovens, which as in every city and even village of Turkey, belong only to public bakeries, are heated by faggots. In many places, the smaller herbs are collected for this purpose, and the "grass, which to-day is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven."

Of public buildings, there are two Catholic churches, French and Austrian, whose interior only, exhibits any marks of splendor. The places of worship generally, whether they be the mosque, the synagogue, or the Christian churches, have little that is striking in their appearance. The bazars would interest you more. These are long and low ranges of buildings, resembling a rope walk, each of which, you will usually find devoted to a single article of merchandize, as for example, yellow shoes, cloths or fruit. At the distance of every few feet, sit the different owners, cross-legged on a raised floor, surrounded by their Vol. I.

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goods, indulging in the luxury of the pipe, or busied in some trifling employment.

But let us take a turn through the whole extent of the city. First, then, in Frank street, you will meet gentlemen and ladies dressed in the most fashionable style of Europe, or a foreign naval officer in full uniform; next, perhaps a Greek, with his brown turban and dejected look; or an Armenian, with his calpac, (cap,) crowned with four little turrets of red broadcloth, and the most quiet, money loving countenance beneath; or the Jew, with his high cap bound round with a shawl of blue, and his keen and active eye casting about for its prey; or the grave and haughty Turk, who slowly follows in his turban of white or green. You may next encounter a group of Turkish women, whose heads are enveloped in a fold of muslins, with only a small opening for light and air; and while you are gazing at these as they follow one after the other, in the style of our Indian women, a porter with his immense burden of five or six hundred pounds, utters his deep guttural signal to clear the way; or the music of the camel bell arouses you to put your hand on his burden of coals or merchandize, and give the good tempered animal a push, to save yourself from being crushed against the wall. You will then espy the Turkish "shepherd of the infidel," (door keeper,), sitting with his arms before the houses of the consuls and chief merchants, and with him, perhaps, engaged in conversation, the dragoman of the establishment, in his large white calpac; or you may see a Tartar, that is to say, a post-man, striding past; "the high capp'd Tartar," or a Greek priest with beard of black, and complexion none the fairer for wearing

a brimless hat; or one of the new soldiers disburdened of the formidable head dress of his Janissary predecessor, and half transformed into an European by his sailor's coat, and the diminished size of his trowsers. If yet not satified with seeing, advance a little farther, and you will find a Turkish confectioner, with a wooden circular tray on his head. Speak to him, and he will place it on the light stand that he also carries, and shew you his sweet-meats and oily cakes, ornamented with golden spangles. Then you may discover a Turkish gardener seated by the wall, whose fresh and fragrant flowers would tempt the sultan himself to cast down his parus. Be sure, however, you keep your own, for that blind Greek beggar, and that wan female, will not fail to importune you in the name of Christ, for what you may not feel as clear a conscience in withholding, while you remember it is here the Mahometan bears rule.

From Frank street, let us then with a Smyrniote guide, thread our way through nameless and loathsome streets, to the castle hill. As we pass along, you can look in upon a Turkish coffee-house. Before the door, on a low platform, you will see a wooden stool or two, the first dawnings, you will say, of civilization; and within, something like a black-smith's furnace with boilers, cups and pipes, duly arranged. On the unspread divan, are multitudes enjoying the first four wishes of a Turk, rest, silence, pipes and coffee. A little farther is the entrance to a khan, where wealthier travellers with their merchandize, find quarters in rooms that are built around an open court. The mosque is next at hand, whose minaret, a slender circular pile, rises from one corner of the building. Near its pin