. Stories for the household . fro upon thebalconies. Beyond the cypress-tops shone, blue as a Damascene blade, the Gulfwith its many ships. Two of these, the largest, were richly ornamentedwith burning lamps, which glittered around the portholes, the masts, andthe guns also, or were hung in the rigging, which shone like a spanglednet. Just before us lay the town itself, the great far-spreading Con- Mahomets Birthday. 831 stautinople, with its countless minarets all wreathed with garlands oflamps. The air was still red with the sheen of the setting sun, but soclear and transparent that the moun
. Stories for the household . fro upon thebalconies. Beyond the cypress-tops shone, blue as a Damascene blade, the Gulfwith its many ships. Two of these, the largest, were richly ornamentedwith burning lamps, which glittered around the portholes, the masts, andthe guns also, or were hung in the rigging, which shone like a spanglednet. Just before us lay the town itself, the great far-spreading Con- Mahomets Birthday. 831 stautinople, with its countless minarets all wreathed with garlands oflamps. The air was still red with the sheen of the setting sun, but soclear and transparent that the mountains of Asia, and Olympus, coveredwith perpetual snow, showed their sharp broken outlines like a silver-white cloud behind the glorious city. The moonlight did not deaden thesplendour of the lamps, but only brought out the minarets in relief, tillthey looked like gigantic flower-stalks crowrned with blossoms of smaller minarets had one starry wreath, the larger two, and thelargest of all three, one over the AT PEKA. Hot a human being was to be seen in our neighbourhood, all was lonelyand still. We wandered down among the cypresses; a nightingale wasraising its flute-like voice, and turtle-doves cooed among the shadows ofthe trees. We came past a little sentry-house, built of planks, andpainted red; a little fire had been kindled in front of it, among the grave-stones, and soldiers were reclining around it. They were dressed inEuropean garb ; but their complexion and features proclaimed them ofIshmaels race, children of the desert. With long pipes in their mouths,they lay and listened to a story. This story was about Mahomets nightingale translated it for us, or we should not have understoodit. Here it is : La Mali il Allali ! There is no God but God ! In the city ofMecca the merchants assembled for the sake of traffic; thither cameEgyptian, and Persian, and Indian, and Syrian dealers. Each one hadhis idol in the temple Kabba, and a son of Ishmaels r
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