some officers of the "Dwarf" frigate, then stationed there, had given us,
to pass a day at Pera, and pic-nic in the mountain.

One fine bright morning was therefore selected--a most appetizing little
dinner being carefully packed up--we set out, a party of fourteen, upon
our excursion.

The weather was glorious, and the scene far finer than any of us had
anticipated--the view from the mountain extending over the entire city,
gorgeous in the rich colouring of its domes and minarets; while, at one
side, the golden horn was visible, crowded with ships of every nation,
and, at the other, a glimpse might be had of the sea of Marmora, blue and
tranquil as it lay beneath. The broad bosom of the Bosphorus was sheeted
out like a map before us--peaceful yet bustling with life and animation.
Here lay the union-jack of old England, floating beside the lilies of
France--we speak of times when lilies were and barricades were not--the
tall and taper spars of a Yankee frigate towering above the low timbers
and heavy hull of a Dutch schooner--the gilded poop and curved galleries
of a Turkish three-decker, anchored beside the raking mast and curved
deck of a suspicious looking craft, whose red-capped and dark-visaged
crew needed not the naked creese at their sides to bespeak them Malays.
The whole was redolent of life, and teeming with food for one's fancy to
conjure from.

While we were debating upon the choice of a spot for our luncheon, which
should command the chief points of view within our reach, one of the
party came to inform us that he had just discovered the very thing we
were in search of. It was a small kiosk, built upon a projecting rock
that looked down upon the Bosphorus and the city, and had evidently, from
the extended views it presented, been selected as the spot to build upon.