to say nothing of the ladies’ yellow leather boots.  A tobacconist’s shop with us is interesting to none but smokers, but Turkish pipes have stems several feet long, made of various kinds of wood, and these and the amber mouth-pieces, which are often of very great value, and enriched with jewels, make the pipe-seller’s wares ornamental as well as useful.  Nor can our gunsmiths’ shops compete for picturesqueness with the Bazaar devoted to arms, of all sorts and kinds, elaborately mounted, decorated, sheathed, and jewelled.  Turkey and Persian carpets and rugs are common enough in England now, and you know how handsome they are.  Turbans, and even fezes, you will allow to look prettier than English hats.  Then some of the shops display things that one does not see at all at home, such as the glass lamps for hanging in the mosques and Greek churches.  Nor is it the things for sale alone which make the Bazaar so wonderful a sight.  The buyers and sellers are at least as picturesque as what they sell and buy.  The floor of each shop is raised two or three feet from the ground, and on a gay rug the turbaned Turk who keeps it sits cross-legged and smokes his pipe and makes his bargains, whilst down the narrow street (which in many instances is arched overhead with stone) there struggle, and swarm, and scream, and fight, black slaves, obstinate camels, primitive-looking chariots full of Turkish ladies, people of all colours in all costumes, and from every part of the world.”

“It must be a wonderful place,” sighed Maggie; “streets full of beautiful shoes, and streets full of beautiful carpets.”

“Just so, Maggie.”

“Not at all like a London Bazaar, then.  I thought perhaps it was a place that shut up to itself, with a beadle sitting at the door?”

“I never was in Stamboul at night, but my belief is that the Bazaar is secured at night by the locking up of gates.  You know the people who own the shops do not live in them, and as most valuable merchandise remains in the Bazaar, it must be protected in some way.  I suppose the watchmen look after it.”

“Have the Turks watchmen like the old London watchmen, Cousin?  With nightcaps, and rattles, and lanterns, and big coats?”

“The Turkish watchmen wear turbans—­not nightcaps; but they have lanterns and big coats, and in one respect they are remarkably like the old ‘Charlies,’ as the London watchmen used to be called.  Their object is not (like policemen) to find robbers and misdoers, but to frighten them away.  Just as the old Charlies used to spring their wooden rattles that the thieves might get out of their way, so the Turkish watchman strikes the ground with an iron-shod staff, that makes a great noise, for the same purpose.  In one respect, however, the Turkish watchmen are most useful—­they give warning of fires.”

“Are there often fires in Constantinople?”