that there is little of value, among its manuscripts.  Before the door hangs a wooden globe, which is supposed to be efficacious in neutralizing the influence of the Evil Eye.  There are many ancient altars and fragments of pillars scattered about the courts, and the Turks have even commenced making a collection of antiquities, which, with the exception of two immense sarcophagi of red porphyry, contains nothing of value.  They show, however, one of the brazen heads of the Delphian tripod in the Hippodrome, which, they say, Mahomet the Conqueror struck off with a single blow of his sword, on entering Constantinople.

The most interesting portion of the Seraglio is the ancient throne-room, now no longer used, but still guarded by a company of white eunuchs.  The throne is an immense, heavy bedstead, the posts of which are thickly incrusted with rubies, turquoises, emeralds, and sapphires.  There is a funnel-shaped chimney-piece in the room, a master-work of Benevenuto Cellini.  There, half a century ago, the foreign ambassadors were presented, after having been bathed, fed, and clothed with a rich mantle in the outer apartments.  They were ushered into the imperial presence, supported by a Turkish official on either side, in order that they might show no signs of breaking down under the load of awe and reverence they were supposed to feel.  In the outer Court, adjoining the Sublime Porte, is the Chapel of the Empress Irene, now converted into an armory, which, for its size, is the most tasteful and picturesque collection of weapons I have ever seen.  It is especially rich in Saracenic armor, and contains many superb casques of inlaid gold.  In a large glass case in the chancel, one sees the keys of some thirty or forty cities, with the date of their capture.  It is not likely that another will ever be added to the list.

We now passed out through the Sublime Porte, and directed our steps to the famous Aya Sophia—­the temple dedicated by Justinian to the Divine Wisdom.  The repairs made to the outer walls by the Turks, and the addition of the four minarets, have entirely changed the character of the building, without injuring its effect.  As a Christian Church, it must have been less imposing than in its present form.  A priest met us at the entrance, and after reading the firman with a very discontented face, informed us that we could not enter until the mid-day prayers were concluded.  After taking off our shoes, however, we were allowed to ascend to the galleries, whence we looked down on the bowing worshippers.  Here the majesty of the renowned edifice, despoiled as it now is, bursts at once upon the eye.  The wonderful flat dome, glittering with its golden mosaics, and the sacred phrase from the Koran:  “God is the Light of the Heavens and the Earth,” swims in the air, one hundred and eighty feet above the marble pavement.  On the eastern and western sides, it rests on two half domes; which again rise from or