strength of character, the beautiful rugs displayed will prove
irresistible temptations. Near the bazaar in Stamboul is a massive
square stone house, looking like a fortress compared with the buildings
around it. Mosses and weeds crop out of every uneven part of its walls.
A heavy door that might stand a siege admitted us to a small vestibule,
and from this we passed into a paved court with a moss-grown fountain in
the centre. Around this court ran a gallery, its heavy arches and
columns supporting a second, to which we ascended by a broad flight of
steps. A double door admitted us to the wareroom, where, tolerably
secure from fire (the doors alone were of wood), were stored Turkish and
Persian rugs of all sizes and colors. The Turkish were far handsomer
than the Persian, and the colors more brilliant than those I have
usually seen. The attendants unrolled one that they said was a hundred
years old. It had a dusty, faded look, as if it had been in the
warehouse quite that length of time, and made the modern ones seem
brighter by contrast. Several rugs having been selected, we returned to
the office, where a carpet was spread and we were invited to seat
ourselves on it. Coffee was passed around, and we proceeded to bargain
for our goods through our interpreter. The merchant, as usual, asked an
exorbitant price to start with, and we offered what was equally
ridiculous the other way; and so we gradually approached the final
price--he coming gracefully down, and we as affably ascending in the
scale, till a happy medium was reached, and we departed with our
purchases following us on the back of an ammale.

[Illustration: THE SULTAN ABDUL ASSIZ.]

Three days of each week are observed as holy days. Friday is the Turkish
Sabbath, Saturday the Jewish, and the Greeks and Armenians keep Sunday.
The indolent government officials, glad of an excuse to be idle, keep