Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1890-04-27

calque is rarely seen, which is pity, for it
is the prettlest thing afoat-a long, slender
boat, sharply taper at both ends, painted
pure white, touched with pink and
gold, and graceful as lily on the
waters. Its "a rowers keep perfect time to-
gether. They are clad in silk, scarlet and
embroideries. Draperies of foreign fabric
and glowing color touch the ripples. At
the stern is gilded peacock, and the airy
craft skins the waves like some swift bird
in swimming flight.
A generation ago there were $4,000
caiques plying up and down, darting in
every direction lightly as butterflies. Now
there are less than half that number. The
natives call them swallow boats. Thin
planks of tulip and beechwood appear too
frail to oppose any force, and the passengers
shiver when heavy steamers pass. The
aerial fabric rides the tiny waves, and its
sharp points offer small resistance to the
sweep of the ever moving waters. The
fragile things have no ballast but the occu-
pants.
THE VIEW FROM THE RIVER.
The stream-really a rapid river between
two seas-is two miles wide. Look back at
Seraglio Point, the scene of imperial wars
and loves, the residence OF masters of Byzan-
tium 1000 years before the Turks crossed
into Europe. In the tideless land-locked
harbor we call the Golden Horn, ironclads
bought in England are idly lying. Beyond
them westward, vast and dark. is the leaden
roof OF st. Sophia, the temple where 40 gen.
erations had worshiped before Michael An
gelo, in the valley of vision, beheld against
the sky OF Italy the peerless dome of st.
Peters.
Many vessels carrying merchandise are
built like the galley of Jason, which sailed
this way bound for Colchis, in the prehis-
toric mythic period, and some touch for
lading at wharf which yet bears his name.
The water is blue as though colored by
indigo. clear as crystal, and sparkles fall off
the oars like pearly beads. Some caiques
are gilt, richly carved and inlaid with pre-
cious woods. Perhaps the rowers are named
Aristides and Themistocles, showing they
have not forgotten the glory that was
Greece, or may be there is an armed attend
ant in gorgeous vestments, q native of
Montenegro-the mountain eyrie which has
de6ed the Sultan and all his hosts 400
years.
AN EASTERN AMBASSADOR.
Here comes tine splendid caique of an
Eastern Ambassador, curtained with shawls
OF finest fabric and warm and changeful
hues. Madam PAmbassadrice, robed with
soft raiment inwrought with gold, reclines in
quietude among her silky pillows, placid
and content as the cushat in her nest; beside
her little daughter The child has won
derful dark ey8, and looks about in eager
delight. At the age of IA she will be veiied
and guarded. On her tiny hand is flaming
jewel so precious we may we'll believe the
legend that, when wrested from a wandering
tribe, only one man knew in which OF II
boxes it was kept, or on which of 100 camels
it was carried in the march.
The mother wears a veil OF fowered gauze
through which we cannot see her features,
but elsewhere have been allowed to behold
the full moon of full moons in her unveiled
loveliness. They say she is of an uncon-
quered people in some remote corner of a
sterile mountain region. I do not know;
but 1 do know that from the beginning,
though beauty abide in a wilderness, the
kings son will make path to her hiding
place and fit the magic slipper to her foot.
THE sULTAN's MOTHER.
The suItsna valide (Sultan's mother) is
abroad to-day, and no one can guess how
odalisques from the seraglio. 1t is
said that the Padisha has more wives than
David, but not SO many as Solomon. Who
knows may tell.
1t is early spring; the judas trees (our
redbud) are in bloom, tinting the atInos-
phere pink like peachbloom, and the shell
tered slopes on both sides of the Bosporus
are redolent of Damascus roses. Thousands
OF pigeons futter In the melancholy cypress
groves which mark the home of the absent
a mighty company. Along the terraced
hills are strings of palaces with steps lead
ing to the water, cool pavilions, costly as
gems, gushing fountains, fairy villas of
cedar and stone, with traceries light as lace,
summer houses. picture-ike shapes foated
up out of the depths and resting on air.
Oh, how its beauty comes back to me nowI
SUSAN E. WALLACE. =.