The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1891-11-28
Cur 0lio.
ON THE GOLDEN HORN.
A Visit to the City of Constantine
ple-The Mosque of st. Sophia
The Sultan at Prayers-Trad-
ing-The Shops Turkish
Women, &c. &c.
[From the philadelphia Ledger.l

lfTOu lue AlilhuSiphAa i@SN5SA'J
It was o'clock in the afternoon we
were leaving Constantinople. For only
two weeks it had been our home, but love
for it had grown strong. The thought of
all the things we had failed to accomplish
swept upon us in these moments of de-
parture. One sighed over. the unexplored
depths of the Old Seraglio Palace; another
bemoaned certain turquoises unbought, and
all felt an unexpressable longing to call
back the little boats and leave the steamer
Drepano to go on its way without us.
Constantinople was beautiful as dream,
and in spite of our resolves we were look
ing upon it with our eyes which would see
it no more, perhaps, forever. A smoky
haze hanging over the hills was softly pur-
pied by sunset light. Domes and minarets,
at first only made dim and distant by this
cloud-like covering, later seemed to rise
from it foundationless, like Walhalla, the
fair city of the gods.
As Constantinople became more airy and
unreal Scutari, on the Asian shore, drew
nearer. Its windows blazed back gorgeous
reflections of the sunlight, and its multi
tude of tile-roofed houses stood out as dis
tinctly as those on the opposite shore did
dimly. Down the Bosphorus palaces and
villas on the waters edge cleaned white
against the blueness of the hills. At our
right lay Seraglio Point, with its romantic
intermingling of domes and cypress trees,
Gradually the bridges across the Golden
Horn and the masts of the shipping van
ished; more of Galata, crowned with its
massive tower, followed, and then we turn
ed quite out of the Horn, rounded the
Point, and were in the Sea of Marmora
But if we had seen our last of Galata, we
had yet Stamboul from the outside. We
had still the great mosques of st. Sophia,
and Soliman the Magnificent, and Ahmedie,
and innumerable others that we did not
know. As we skirted along this shore the
sun was just setting. 1t appeared huge
golden disk, and threw column of light
across the water from the shore to our boat.
Once it seemed to rest directly behind the
seven towers of the ill-famed prison on the
shore, and their massive masonry stood out
darkly in relief At that moment a rail
road train made its way across an opening
near the walls, and left long, feathery
wreaths of white smoke When the sun
dropped below the horizon, the fiery column
no more lay upon the water, but, instead,
were softly marked lines of red, which
seemed ever to change and melt into one
another. Toward the west all the sky and
the shore and the sea were warmly colored,
but in the direction of Asia was blue
gray lambent mist that made one shudder
and turn back to the brightness.
For the third time the stewards came to
bid us to dinner. Thinking that their
laboriously prepared meal was to go unap-
preciated, and understanding not at all our
enthusiasm to see the last shade of Con
stantinople, they had persisted in urging
rs. And so, when the vision had become
too dim to distinguish more than family
the minarets and towers and walls, we took
last long look and went below
We have begun by telling how we left
Constantinople because there was absolutely
nothing to describe in our arrival. For
days before reaching the Sea of Marmora
we had begun to dwell upon the delights
of the first sight of the most beautiful city
in the world, by sunrise. To be up early,
sit wrapped in our rugs upon the deck and
drink in the glorious panorama-that was
our dream. The reality turned out quite
otherwise. The morning was dark and
cloudy, we slept late, and were under the
very walls of the Seraglio before we knew
that we were near the outmost limit of
Stamboul.
The Hotel Bylance was reached after
such hurry and scurry that the first
thing we did in Constantinople was to sit
down and breathe. Later began our sight
seeing, the interest in which waxed stronger
day by day.
AN UNDERGROUND CABLE ROAD.
Whoever would have looked for an un-
derground cable road in Constantinople ?
But the cable road is fact For half a
plaster (about % cents) one is admitted to
the tunnel, is allowed to take a seat in the
second class car, and before having time to
think about tits transported over the weary
distance down the hill, the length of which
he knows well if he has ever had to climb
it. At the foot of the tunnel is Galata,
the. quarter below. Here are the same
shops, though less fine, which were left in
Pera, and the same foreign inhabitants
But this is the way leading across the
bridge, and once over that, the traveller is
actually among the Turks.
! We enjoy the bridge. Although We