the first visible annoyance in constantinople is dogs, which murray’s guide says is nobody’s property. in a space of a rod i counted seventy-four dogs, and not one respectable dog in the seventy-four! fifteen or twenty of them were marked on different parts of the body with scalds, some with only one ear, some blind, the streets were lined with them, lying down, standing up, fighting, breeding, and making love. the turks are as particular about getting around and through them, as a good man would be in a crowd of children; in fact, i saw a turk tread upon a child in an effort to pass around dogs. they take no notice of persons passing to and fro, but if you touch one, he jumps at you and lays hold.

during the night we have a long dog-note howl, from dark to daylight, and there is no way to stop it; they have systematical skirmishes of parties from different sections. murray holds that they have fundamental laws of infringement, and woe be to him that don’t acknowledge their legality. the puppies, as soon as they open their eyes, he observes, join in the first fight, and off goes his ear, tail, or leg, and he grows up used to hardships, and the customs and responsibilities of war; he is also taught the responsibility of invasion. before he learns the landmarks, he goes on another’s territory, where he is picked up by some old sentinel and shook a little, and thrown across the border, where he stands and barks a little, in defiance of the old dog’s pluck and courage to come on this “spot and do the like. in their hymenial adventures” they frequently cross the borders, in pursuit of their object of affection, when there is a free fight, that lasts until some devoted amour falls a martyr to his sincerity, whilst the object of his affection escapes, heedless of his fidelity, and his great care for her and his posterity.

the virtue of keeping so many dogs in constantinople, is to cleanse the streets of offal, that is piled there by the citizens, who are not blessed with sink holes under the streets, they empty their swill, bad vegetables, and scraps of all corruption in the middle of the streets, and the dogs act the buzzard’s part, or the cholera would reign supreme all the year round. when the citizens are fearful of hydrophobia, the sultan orders the dogs to be driven in herds to a lake a few miles from the city, and there to stay during the dog days; but when they are brought back, the city is generally raging with what they call in the east, the plague. if the city was blessed with sink holes, they could then dispense with the nuisance of dogs in such narrow streets, and the provocation of their efforts of progeny. they are frequently so close together that a man hardly ever takes notice of their condition to one another. i, trying to pass through a group, got entangled between two and fell over them, as it was impossible to get through, as one tried to go one way, and the other another; i was so provoked when i got up, i did’nt look back to see whether it was their legs or tails was tied together; i am sure it was one or the other, from their magnanimous struggles to take one another their own way.

another source of low spirits to a man from off the waters, is to see women moving about like spirits or shadows, and cannot be seen. the promenades in constantinople are the graveyards or any other sacred site. the graveyards are like rustic parks with immense numbers of tombstones denoting the head of the grave, and all are inclined to a fall. the ladies go there and lean against them and talk with their maids, and you can hear their sweet laugh, but see no smile. they sit like a tailor, on the inside of their heels or ankles. you will see five or six stand talking in their beautiful silk wrappers, and quick as a fall they will sink down upon those little feet, like a blossom sinking from its majesty of beauty to its downward decay. they seem to get closer to the earth than any other people could. one nymph-like lady was so wiry in her manner of talking to her black maid, and so full of good humor, that i knew she must have been pretty. i looked at her one hour, and she at me, through her eyelits. i would have given five pds to lift her veil; i know she was pretty, her voice was so fluty, and her hands so delicate, and her feet so small, and her dress so gauzy; she was like an eel. i do not believe she had any bones in her. i asked the guide if there was no way in the world to get acquainted with her, and he said, none under heaven. the guide and myself moved along to see some others, and something new presented itself at every step. vanity is reigning monarch in all females. i had stopped in another part of the graveyard pleasure ground, and whilst leaning against a tombstone, this mohammedan maid came up and seated herself as near to me as she was before. her maid had changed her veil, and was still fixing it on her mistress. this veil was thin enough to make me believe i could see her figure of countenance, and i swear she was pretty. the guide said that she was for sale, i told him to go and buy her for me, and asked him who owned her, he said, her mother, but i could not buy her because i was no mohammedan. i asked him what did he think she was worth, he said, about a thousand turkish piastres, a sum of about twenty-five dollars. i told him if he could buy her for that i would give twenty-five dollars for himself. this was a powerful engine on his reflective powers. he said he did not know how it could be done. i asked him if he thought the girl would admire me; he had no doubt about that, and added, i need not have any uneasiness about that, as i could make her love me after she was mine, she was obliged to obey me according to the turkish laws, and no man could change the laws but abdul medjid, the sultan.