Yesterday we took our last stroll in Constantinople, crossing the Golden
Horn by the new bridge to Stamboul. This bridge is a busy spot, for
besides the constant throngs that cross and recross, it is the favorite
resort of beggars and dealers in small wares. Many of the ferryboats
also start from here, so that, although long and wide, it is crowded
most of the day. An Englishman who is an officer in the Turkish army
told us of an amusing adventure of his in crossing the bridge. He had
been at the war department, and was told he could have the six months'
pay which was due him if he would take it in piasters. Thankful to get
it, and fearing if he did not take it then in that shape he might have
to wait a good while, he accepted, and the piasters (which are large
copper coins worth about four cents of our money) were placed in bags on
the backs of porters to be taken to a European bank at Pera. As they
were crossing the bridge one of the bags burst open with the weight of
the coins, and a quantity of them were scattered. Of course a first
class scramble ensued, in which the beggars, who are always on hand, and
others reaped quite a harvest, and when the officer got the hole tied
up the ammale found the bag considerably lighter to carry.

Reaching Stamboul, we made our way through the crowded streets, past the
Seraglio gardens and St. Sophia, till we reached the old Hippodrome,
which was modeled after the Circus at Rome. Little remains of its
ancient glory, for the Crusaders carried off most of its works of art.
The granite obelisk of Theodosius and the pillar of Constantine, which
the vandal Turks stripped of its bronze when they first captured the
city, are still left, but the stones are continually falling, and it
will soon be a ruin. The serpentine column consists of three serpents
twisted together: the heads are gone, Mohammed II. having knocked off
one with his battle-axe. A little Turk was taking his riding-lesson on