The Sun.
London, England, 1858-05-13 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

In and Around Stamboul. By Mrs. E Imund
Hornby. 2 vols. Bentley.
These pleasant volumes recount a lady's experi-
ence of Eastern life, told in letters to her friends
at home. She left England in the autumn of 1855,
and remained abroad about a year, during which
time she availed herself of every opportunity for
extending her acquaintance with Oriental life and
manners. All her adventures, sights, and impres-
sians, she describes in her lively and agreeable let-
ters, which show considerahle powers of observa-
tion, and a quick and lively sense of the humour-
ous and striking. The horrors of war were still
casting their gloomy shadows over the bright city
of the Golden Horn, and many npaurnful incidents
or anecdotes reminded the traveller of the desola-
tion that had been wrought by them; The subject
is not a new one, as the evens of the last few year,
have produced more travels, histories, sketchess
and pamphlets about Turkey, Russia, Circassia,
and all their belongings, than the most industrious
or inquisitive of readers would undertake to peruse
on the same subject in a lifeirne. But the atten-
tion of the world has lately been directed with
equal intensity to another part of the globe, and a
book on Constantinople and its people comes as a
refreshing variety, after the flood of information
and discussion with which the literary world has
been deluged on the subject of the Hindoos and
Himalayas. The work before us is written in a
pleasant and lively strain, without aiming at bril•
liancy, which carries the reader on without weary-
ing him ; and the letters are natural and unaffected,
as though they were really penned under the circum-
stances described. Being a lady's production it
does Rot deal with the mixed questions of the day,
further than reporting any incidental rumour, or
the effects produced by any startling news. Occa-
sionally some glaring piece of official mismanage-
ment excites her indignation.
"We diued on board an English steamer the other
day, and after dinner I walked up and down the deck
with the Captain. He is rather a bluff, but kind-hearted
man, and told me that, much as he had been knocked
about in a long service, the most miserable part of his
life was when our army fir-t landed in the Crimea.
He was then in command of the , and said what
every one knows, that finer and braver fellows were
never seen than those he bad on board. For some ab-
surd reason, or for no reason at all, they were not alowed
to take their tents on shore, although it could have been
done with the greatest ease. A tremendous rain came
on in the evening—' such a soaking, cold rain,' said the
Captain, 'as you never saw or felt.' Our poor men, as
every one knows, 'slept' out in it all, atter having just
left.a crowded and hot ship. The wood and sticks which
they were able to collect, were of course as wet as the
shore itself. So they passed the night In the morning
hundreds of sick men were sent on board different
vessels—to die. Captain -- told me that he buried
from his ship ninety men in thirty hours. The Chap-
lain could do no more than hurry from one service to
another ; and three or four poor fellows at a time
were plunged over the ship's fide. However, I dare say
you have read all this in the papers, and it is too
terrible a subject to dwell upon. The French not only
had their tents put up for the night, but their bedding,
means for getting hot water, and a comforting cup of
coffee before going to sleep. They said that, on such
a bight, even with that, it was bad enough. But I
must stop my pen, as usual. If I were to write you all
I hear of cruel mismanagement, it would fill a volume,
not a letter. Our travelling friends, Mr. Newell aed
Mr. Bell returned from the Crimea on Saturday last,
and came to see us directly the Elba' cast anchor in
the Bosphorus. They have been extremely interested
in all they have seen."
At Therapia she visited the hospital and the valley
of the dead.

" We went afterwards to walk in the garden, a large
and formal one, its long straight walks ornamented with
rows of flue orange and lemon trees in full bearing.
On sunny benches here and tbere were seated the con-
valescents enjoying the fresh air. A. few were
strolling quietly up and down, reading together
with great interest an old and tattered Eoblish news-
paper. From the formal part of the garden you soon
wander into a wildly beautiful shrubbery, which reaches
up to the hills of Therapia. It is really a lovely spot,
and what is rare in this country the deep shade pre-
serves the ferns and wild flowers in fresbe,t beauty.
We walked with delight through .a fine avenue of trees,
which reminded me of that in the garden of B mcacciu,
the blue sky peeping through the ir•terlaced branches
above, and the sun just touching here and there, leaves
already tinged with the first gold of autumn. One of
these fine avenues extends ha f way up the hill, another
crossing.it, and forming a charming forest picture.
Gathering some pretty specimens of ferns and wild
flowers, we came suddenly to a little valley euclosed
aids a low mud wall. Round it were ranged
in rows, about a hundred graves, each of which con-
tains the bodies of men, who Lave died of wounds
in the hospital, or been brought down from the Cri-
mea,. They are nameless, these long rows of clay,
but in the centre of the valley, erected on three white
stone steps, stands a plain white cross, on which is in-
scribed, lam the Resurrection and the Life ;' and be-
neath tnis, To the memory of those buried here, who
fell in the Crimea : et-erred ley their countrywomen at
Tberapia.' Alone, at the upper end of this sad place,
stands a solitary grey stone ; on it is inscribed, 'Captain
Lyons. Her Majesty's ship Miranda.'
" Silently Mr. Evelyn and I sat down at the hot of
an old tree. I believe that just then neither of us could
have spoken a word. We had broken in, as it were, so
suddenly upon the mournful resting-place, in a strange
land, of our countrymen. How they bad been prayed
for How many bitter tears were still shed for them in
England Cauld the dead speak, how many tender mes-
sages would they not send home from that harem-garden
now by us, whose hearts ache over tbeir lonely grave:
for them, and for those especially whom they have left
behind ! Mr. Evelyn told me of a friend and namesake
of his, who was killed by the bursting of a shell, just
before the assault,—a noble and promising young man,
beloved by all. His father used to say, after he bad left
hams., My friend and corepanion, as well as my son, is
gone.' Mr. Evelyn said that the most painful task of
his life was to write to this poor father, and convey to
him his son's last message?'
Pera, at the tune of her residence there was in a
rather alarming condition.
"Pera is in a dreadful state of confusion. Ruffians
and outcasts of all kieds have increased a hundredfold
since the war began. There are no police or guards of
any kind, and murders and all sorts of outrages are per-
petrated in the crowded streets even by day, and, still
more, in the utter darkness and confusion of the nights,
You will see in the papers, no doubt, an account of a
fight which tack place a day or two ago between some
French and Tunisian soldiers, in which one or two were
killed arid several wounded. Tile French instantly
marched two regiments into Stamboul without waiting
to ask leave of the Turkish Government. Every one
thinks them in the right; if the Turks will not pre-
vent murder, the Allies must. Soldiers, missed from
their barracks at night, are constantly found slabbed in
the morning, in the cemeteries and . other places where
they have been surprised and waylaid. Another French
officer was stabbed on the Bridge of Bats yesterday,
and it is faared that his wound will prove mortal. An
English clergyman, walking quietly along, was also
wounded in the arm, but it appears that, happily, the
dagger missed its aim.
These crimes of iervenge, it is said, are perpetrated by
the Sciote Greeks, who, since the massacre of Scio, of
course entertain great feelings of hatred and animosity
towards the Turks, and are indignant at the Allies for
helping them in their present struggle with the Russians.
The band of Greek 'sailors' who have committed so
many enormities, still roam at large, and scarcely a day
passes without a new outrage being heard of. Yester-
day morning the shop of a poor Turk at Galata was
observed to be shut up after the usual hour; it bad
been ransacked in the night aid its master cruelly mur-
dered. Mr. Grace, a merchant here, was going to dine
at Mysseri'e with some friends an evening or two ago ;
at about seven he entered his counting-house, where he
had made arrangements to dress, his country-house
being at a distance. The place had only been left by his
people an hour before, yet, in I,road daylight, he found
everything gone that could be carried off without the
slightest alarm having been made, or the slightest pos-
sible clue given."
At a Christmas dinner at the Embassy the
authoress saw Miss Nightingale, whom she de-
scribes :45 quiet and lady like in her appearance,
and wasted with recent illness. At the same party
she noticed another pale and careworn face, and
learned that it was Dr. Saudwith of Kars. She
gives an amusing yet melancholy picture of the
extreme ignorance of the Eastern women, but the
Levantines she declares to be the worst of all, as to
their ignorance they unite presumption. Shequotes
a conversation she had with a Levantinegirl of nin:-
teen as a specimen, and tells an anecdote of one of
these fair ones, who, hearing an Englishman say
something about the Ides of March at an evening
party, and thinking he alluded to some vegetable,
immediately replied, "The green peas are not up
yet." Another amusing incident is recorded con-
cerning a pianoforte. One was in the house where
Mrs. Horuby was staying, which was sadly out of
tune. She asked the ladyof the house "How it was
that so new and good au instrument was so rustyand
shaken I" Dbudu replied in her quiet gentle way,
that some time ago they were staying at a country
house by the sea-side when a fire b,oke out, and
they were obliged to throw the piano out of the
window. "It fell into the sea," sa'd Dhudu,
and has never been quite in tune since." The
tediousness of a lady's life, and the trying uncer-
tainty of the climate are forcibly described. The
heat of the days and the sudden chilliness of the
nights are represented as extremely dangerous.
The following account of the miseries of a night in
Arta Kiog gives an amusing specimen of the autho-
ress's style :

"Sometimes I light a lamp, and attempt to read ; but
a large party of wild-doge have taken up their abo in
the ruined garden of one of the burnt-down houses
opposite my window. Whether other dogs intrude on
their beat, or what it can be, I know not ; but about
every ten minutes one or two sharp voices give an alarm,
and then the whole pack sweeps desperately down,
yelling and barking in the most hideous manner you can
conceive. About midnight mit creep the mice, which