During my residence in Constantinople I had the good fortune to be
present at some very entertaining festivities. The most magnificent
of these took place on the 23d of April, the anniversary of
Mahomet's death.

On the eve of this feast we enjoyed a fairy-like spectacle. The
tops of all the minarets were illuminated with hundreds of little
lamps; and as there are a great many of these slender spires, it can
be readily imagined that this sea of light must have a beautiful
effect. The Turkish ships in the harbour presented a similar
appearance. At every loop-hole a large lamp occupied the place of
the muzzle of the cannon. At nine o'clock in the evening, salvoes
were fired from the ships; and at the moment that the cannons were
fired, the lamps vanished, flashes of light and gunpowder-smoke
filled the air; a few seconds afterwards, as if by magic, the lamps
had reappeared. This salute was repeated three times.

The morning of the 23d was ushered in by the booming of the cannon.
All the Turkish ships had hoisted their flags, and garlands of
coloured paper were twined round the masts to their very tops.

At nine o'clock I proceeded in the company of several friends to
Constantinople, to see the grand progress of the Sultan to the
mosque. As with us, it is here the custom to post soldiers on
either side of the way. The procession was headed by the officers
and government officials; but after every couple of officers or
statesmen followed their servants, generally to the number of twelve
or fifteen persons, in very variegated costumes, partly Turkish,
partly European, and withal somewhat military; in fact, a perfect