Our hotel stands in the Rue de Pera, the principal street of the
European quarter, and as it is narrow the lights from the shops make
it safe and agreeable to walk out in the evening. This is one of
the few streets accessible to carriages, though in some parts it is
difficult for two to pass each other. Most of the shops are French and
display Paris finery, but the most attractive are the fruit-shops with
their open fronts, so you take in their inviting contents at a glance.
Broad low counters occupy most of the floor, with a narrow passage
leading between from the street to the back part of the shop, and
counters and shelves are covered with tempting fruits and nuts. Orange
boughs with the fruit on decorate the front and ceiling of the shop,
and over all presides a venerable Turk. In the evening the shop is
lighted by a torch, which blazes and smokes and gives a still more
picturesque appearance to the proprietor and his surroundings. You
stand in the street and make your purchases, looking well to your
bargains, for the old fellow, with all his dignity, will not hesitate
to cheat a "dog of a Christian" if he can. From every dark alley as
we walked along several dogs would rush out, bark violently, and after
following us a little way slink back to their own quarter again. Each
alley and street of the city has its pack of dogs, and none venture on
the domain of their neighbors. During the day they sleep, lying about
the streets so stupid that they will hardly move; in fact, horses and
donkeys step over them, and pedestrians wisely let them alone. After
dark they prowl about, and are the only scavengers of the city,
all garbage being thrown into the streets. The dogs of Pera have
experienced, I suppose, the civilizing effects of constant contact
with Europeans, as they are not at all as fierce as those of Stamboul.
They soon learn to know the residents of their own streets and
vicinity, and bark only at strangers.