P. S. I will write to you again from Constantinople.

LET.  XXXV.

To THE ABBOT ——.

Constantinople, May 29.  O. S.

I HAVE had the advantage of very fine weather, all my journey; and as the summer is now in its beauty, I enjoyed the pleasure of fine prospects; and the meadows being full of all sorts of garden flowers, and sweet herbs, my berlin perfumed the air as it pressed them.  The grand signior furnished us with thirty covered waggons for our baggage, and five coaches of the country for my women.  We found the road full of the great spahis and their equipages coming out of Asia to the war.  They always travel with tents; but I chose to ly in houses all the way.  I will not trouble you with the names of the villages we passed, in which there was nothing remarkable, but at Ciorlei, where there was a conac, or little seraglio, built for the use of the grand signior, when he goes this road.  I had the curiosity to view all the apartments destined for the ladies of his court.  They were in the midst of a thick grove of trees, made fresh by fountains; but I was most surprised to see the walls almost covered with little distiches of Turkish verse, wrote with pencils.  I made my interpreter explain them to me, and I found several of them very well turned; though I easily believed him, that they had lost much of their beauty in the translation.  One was literally thus in English: 

         We come into this world; we lodge, and we depart;
          He never goes, that’s lodged within my heart.

THE rest of our journey was through fine painted meadows, by the side of the sea of Marmora, the ancient Propontis.  We lay the next night at Selivrea, anciently a noble town.  It is now a good sea-port, and neatly built enough, and has a bridge of thirty-two arches.  Here is a famous ancient Greek church.  I had given one of my coaches to a Greek lady, who desired the conveniency of travelling with me; she designed to pay her devotions, and I was glad of the opportunity of going with her.  I found it an ill-built edifice, set out with the same sort of ornaments, but less rich, as the Roman-catholic churches.  They shewed me a saint’s body, where I threw a piece of money; and a picture of the virgin Mary, drawn by the hand of St Luke, very little to the credit of his painting; but, however, the finest Madona (sic) of Italy, is not more famous for her miracles.  The Greeks have a monstrous taste in their pictures, which, for more finery, are always drawn upon a gold ground.  You may imagine what a good air this has; but they have no notion, either of shade or proportion.  They have a bishop here, who officiated in his purple robe, and sent me a candle almost as big as myself for a present, when I was at my lodging.  We lay that night at a town called Bujuk Cekmege, or Great Bridge; and the night following, at Kujuk Cekmege, or Little Bridge; in a very pleasant lodging, formerly