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

LITERATURE.

Tit and Around Stamboul. By Mrs. E Ininnd

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as:hteeHrlonefnl:bfEey,n.
These pleasant volumes recount ;: la iy's eii-
sand n theuttuomh: hero frteBns d 5
8,
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-
sions, she describes in her lively and agreeable let-
ters, which show considerable 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 mournful incidents
or anecdotes reminded the traveller of the desola-
tion that bad been wrought by th-m. The sulject
s not a new one, as the even- s of the last few year,
have produced more travels, histories, sketches
, and pamphlets about Turkey, Russia, Cireasia,
and all their belongings, than the most industrious
' or inquisitive of readers would undertake to peruse
on the same subject in a lifetime. 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 cf 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,
astnhcoetsi weredghetshceribyed.B
reaellinygpeannleaddy7sdperrotrucctiirocnumit-
,hdoes not 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 dined 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 had on board. For some ab-
curd reason, or for no reason at all, they were not tamed
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 LeTcr saw or felt.' Our poor men, as
every one knows, 'slept' out in it all, after 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 C.lap-
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 side. 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 night, even with that, it was bad enough. Bat I
muet stop my pen, as usual. If I were to write you all
I hear of cruel mismanagement, it would fi l a volume,
not a letter. Our trievetling friends, Mr. Newell and
:qr. Bell returned from the Crimea on Saturday
and came to see u-= directly the Elba' cast anchor in
the Bosphorus. Tney 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 fine orange and lemon trees in full bearing.
On sunny benches here and there wero seated the con-
valescants enkiyirg the fresh air. A few were
strolling quietly up and down, reading together
with great interest an old and tattered new,-
paper. From the formal part of the garden you sok n
,sander into a wildly beautiful shrubbery, which reaches
up to the hills cf Tberapia. It is really a lovely spot,
and what is rare in this country the deep shade pre-
serves the ferns and wild flowers in freshet beauty.
We walked with delight through a fine avenue of trees,
which reminded me of that in tho garden of B
the blue soy peeping through the interlaced branches
above, and the sun just touching here and there, leaves
already tinged with the first gold cf autumn. One of
these fine avenues exteu6s ha foray 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 enclosed
will 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 Ori-
oles. They are nameless, these long rows of clay,
but in the c,notre of the valley, erected on three white
stone steps, stands a plain white cross, on which is in.
scribed, ' I am the Resurrection and the Life ' and be-
neath this, To the memory of those buried here, who
fell in the Crimea : erecred by their coun.ry women 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 foot of
an old tree. I believe that just then neither of us could
have spoken a word. We bad broken in, as it were, so
suddenly upon the mournful resting-place, in a strange
land, of our countrymen. How they had been prayed
for How many bitter tears were still shed for them in
England I Could the dead speak, how many tender ines-
sages would they not send home from that harem-garden
now by us, whose hearts ache over their lonely grave
for them, and for tbose especially whom they have lift
behind ! Mr. Evelyn told um 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 lean,
beloved by all. His father used to say, after he bad left
home, My friend and companion, 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 time of her residence there was in a
rather alarming condition.
"Pero is in a dreadful state of confurion. Ruffians
and outcasts of all kinds 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 whioh took place a day or two ago between some
French and Tunisian soldiers, iu which one or two were
killed aid several wounded. Toe 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 stabbed in
the morning, in the cemeteries and other places where
they have been surprised and waylai,l. Another Fretch
officer was stabbed on the Bridge of Beats yesterday,
and it is feared 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 revenge, it is said, are perpetrated by
the Scioto 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 eeith the Russians.
The band of Greek 'sailors' who have committed so
many enormitie,, 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 and its master cruelly mur-
dered. Mr. Grace, a merchant here, was going to dine
at Mysseri's with some friends an evening or two aeo ;
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 t,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 as 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
xtreme 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 Levantine girl of nin?-

teen as a spec men, and tells au 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. lloraby was staying, which was sadly out of
tune. She asked tholadyof the house "Row it was
that so new and good an instrument was so rustyand
shaken ?" Dhudu replied in her quiet gentle way,
that some time ago they were staying at a cou,rtry
house by the sea-side when a fire broke out, and
they were obliged to throw the piano out of the
window. "It fell into the sea," said Dhudu,
and has never berm quite in tune since." Tile
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 ebilline*s 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-dogs have taken up their abode 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 ; bus about
levery ten minuted one or two sharp voices give an alarm,
and then the whole pack sweeps desperately down,
yelling and barking in the incst hideous tranntr you can
conceive. About midnight out creep the mice, which