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this, we raise $100 per annum for Spring Hill College. We have laid out £23,000 in improving the old chapel and building the new one; in the erection of school-rooms, the College, and in building seven country and town small chapels. We have also formed two separate Independent churches, and have jointly with another congregation, formed a third, and all but set up a fourth, and are at this time in treaty for two pieces of freehold land, which will cost £700, to build two more chapels in the suburbs of the town.”

His end was peace, and his memory is blessed. What John Angell James was as a man and a citizen, let the silent hammers of Birmingham testify, and the gloom of its streets as his hearse passed through them. What he was as a Christian, the churches of both hemispheres know. To his power in the pulpit, what Robert Hall once said, after hearing him preach at Leicester, is the most remarkable attestation we remember. “I should not be surprised to learn,” he declared, “that a hundred persons have been converted to-night.” The best proof of his efficiency as a pastor and spiritual ruler is the halcyon harmony of his church during the fifty-four years of his government, notwithstanding the disquieted state in which he found it at first; and although it was recruited to more than twenty-fold its original dimensions from the most democratic population in the land. Spring Hill College, of which he may fairly be considered a second founder, is a splendid monument of his zeal for the perpetuation of a pious and learned ministry. But his most enduring memorial will be his Anxious Inquirer, which will be useful as long as it shall be read, and will be read as long as any one of the many languages into which it has been and will hereafter be printed shall be spoken upon the earth.

VI.

PAGES FROM MY DIARY.

BY FREDERIKA BREMER.

October 14th, 1859. IMPOSSIBLE to put in at Mytelene! We lingered for three-quarters of an hour outside the harbour ; but not a single small boat ventured out, either with the post-bags or passengers, on account of the violence of the wind and waves; besides it was already dark. We must heave the anchor, and again set sail.

It is well for me that I saw thee lately during beautiful weather, thou most lovely island of the Greek Archipelago, ever-memorable Lesbos, the birthplace of Pittacus, Theophrastus, and Sappho ! From

the stormy water upon which I am barne onward, I cast back a glance at thy dim-crowned heights, in the shadow of which he flourishing villages and well-to-do country houses ; to thy vallies, where bloom the rose-laurel and agnus cactus, to thy beautiful “ Porto oliveto," reminding me of Piedmont's celebrated lakes; to my peaceful home on thy shore and my pretty young hostess, “la Smaragda.”

And now northward, northward towards the Dardanelles, towards Constantinople! The wind is contrary, cold, and violent; the sea is dark, the waves rolling with an increasing swell. The old Amsterdam creaks and grinds dreadfully. It is impossible to sleep. The mind becomes also disturbed. I think of my beautiful, quiet home at Smyrna, with the Swedish consul Von Lenneps, where I was entertained as a guest so happily, and where I might have stayed! I wish myself there once more in the midst of that amiable family, sighing that I did not continue in Smyrna, and see and hear more about the great Deaconess Educational Institute there, the first of its kind in the East, the plam and pearl there for the education of girls. I repent-too late, too late! Away, however, with dull regrets; I will live for the day and the hour. The queen of night stands high in the heavens; I know that of old she is my friend. Good night! To-morrow, everything will be better; but I cannot recommend the Amsterdam as a steamboat for ladies.

The 15th, the mouth of the Dardanelles !-Asia and Europe approach at this point, and salute each other from two fortresses, “ Chateau d'Asie," and " Chateau d'Europe," as they are called.

They approach each other like two potentates, to become acquainted ; to make peace or war. The lofty hills of Asia retire into the distance ; its shore is poetical and verdant; that of Europe prosaic and brown. Both become more beautiful, more cultivated and populous as they accompany each other on the two sides of the straits.

“ Sestos and Abydos !” Romantically beautiful hills and dales, especially of Sestos, on the European shore. In the background, a lofty green ascent, which seems as if looking over the vallies towards the Straits and Asia. Thus, of old, looked out Hero towards Abydos seeking for Leander in vain. The great warlike memories of the Dardanelles are less deeply inscribed in the human memory than this episode from the heart's life of love-the eternal heart. Because thou wast before the Dardanelles were, and shall be when they remain no longer !

It was not until noon of the following day, the 16th of October, that we approached Constantinople, the tripartite imperial city on the shores of the Sea of Marmora, the Bosphorus, and the Golden Horn-a magnificent sight! Before us opened the Bosphorus with Scutari, the Turkish city, upon its Asiatic, and Pera, the “ Frank city," upon its European shore ; on the left, the long cone of the Golden Horn, between Pera and the ancient Byzantium, or Stamboul It stands upon a lofty ridge of hills, extending from east to west,

crowned by white mosques, with their tall minarets rising out of a forest of gloomy houses. Its extreme point is the Seraglio Point, the foot of which is bathed by the Sea of Marmora. On its green slopes shine out white palaces and mosques, supreme amongst which rises “ Hagia Sophia," with its four minarets, and Achmedan, the mosque of the Sultan Achmed, with six. Not far from the sea stands the former seraglio of Sultan Mahmoud. Ships with all their colours displayed and their yards manned are in the bay; cannons thunder—it is the last day of Courban Beiram, the great Easter festival of the Mussulman.

The steamer advances round Seraglio Point, and enters the Golden Horn. What a throng of vessels, steam-boats, ships-ofwar, and trading craft of all sizes, laden with human beings and merchandise, whilst small caiques, by hundreds, skim like flies over the waves. It is an almost overpoweringly grand and splendid sight. How are we to get through all this throng? But when at length the steamer lay still on the waters of the Golden Horn, in the harbour of Pera, I could not but think of Stockholm. The resemblance in situation, in the picture presented of land and water is striking, but the life here is more manifold, and the proportions larger.

Fishers of men from Pera, that is to say, people sent out from the hotels, and boatmen storm the vessel, and press their invitations on the passengers. We allow ourselves to be caught by one of them, the best thing one can do under such circumstances; and we and our baggage are conveyed down to a caique, which takes us to the shore of Pera. We clamber up the heights of Pera for a whole half-hour

-wearisome work, though, during the heat of the day--and engage rooms at the “Hotel de Byanz,” a good but expensive hotel, though not the most so—for sixteen francs a day with “service." The air here is fresh, and the view over Scutari, with the pyramidal heights of Asia in the background, and along the shore of the Golden Horn, is incomparably magnificent.

I journeyed alone from the shore of Asia Minor, and I believed that I should arrive alone at Constantinople, but now I say we. I have met with a travelling companion in Mr. W., an English gentleman, and an original at the same time. Still young, he travels about the world with no other object than to amuse himself; and now he has amused himself by becoming my knight in a most chivalric fashion. A son could not be more attentive to his mother than is Mr. W. to me. And thus I now find myself in this place, where I expected to be more solitary than usual, so carefully and affectionately attended to–I cannot use any other word—as I have never been before during this, my journey.

In the very evening of the day we landed, my polite cavalier, Mr. W., conducted me to the promenade of Pera,“ petit champ des morts," a tree-planted terrace, with well-built houses on the one hand, and a beautiful view, through the dark cypresses of a Turkish burial-ground, on the other, over the Golden Horn

and Stamboul; and all beheld under the beautifying mystical light of the full moon. Music was playing on the terrace, and ladies and gentlemen-the greater number of whom wore the European dress-sat before tables, drinking coffee, lemonade, and such like ; or walking up and down, listening to the music in the blaze of lamps and the splendour of moonlight. One might have believed oneself in a European city. The lights and sounds in Byzantium, on the other side of the Golden Horn, had long since ceased, for in a Turkish city all outer life ceases shortly after sunset, whilst here, on the heights of Pera, music was playing, and people were walking and conversing. Pera is now almost exclusively a Christian city.

Saturday, the 18th.-- The preceding day, Friday, was the Turkish Sunday, when the Sultan may be seen on his visit to the mosque. What particular mosque, however, he intends to visit, is not known before noon of that same day. Every Sunday it is a fresh one, and generally one of the smaller mosques, because in the larger he is obliged to give large alms; in the small he can escape with from four to five thousand piastres each time. Very pretty, this, I thought. I wished to see Sultan Abdul Medjid, and my polite cavalier, Mr. W., is always ready to attend me wherever I wish.

At eleven in the forenoon we were informed that the Sultan would go to his devotions in a little mosque on the European shore of the Bosphorus, just opposite to the fashionable Turkish prome. nade of the “ Sweet Waters of Asia." It is a long way up the Bosphorus. No matter, it is all as one. We enter a caique, where we take our seats in oriental fashion, and two rowers, dressed in grey-white, striped silk shirts and red fezzes, sped us up the Bos. phorus.

The caique is a long, very narrow boat, pointed at the ends. which cuts the water with great speed, but is not without danger from high waves or a side blow; and people must be very careful of their movements in them--must both sit and lie still. Beautiful carving of flowers, leaves, and other figures ornament the interior of the little boats, and red cushions or bright-coloured rags cover the seats. The caiques, for the most part, keep along the shores of the Bosphorus, because the steam-boats, here called omnibuses, plr in the mid-stream; and these are dangerous 'busses for the little caiques. Some weeks since, Aligalib Pasha's caique was upset by one of these omnibuses, and its noble proprietor, the son of Reschid Pasha, and the Sultan's son-in-law, went to the bottom. We take care, however, to avoid such a mishap, row close to the European shore, and keep a good look-out. Wind and waves are against us: and the current in many places runs so strong that the caique is obliged to be dragged along the shore by a rope. But this is a rapid and safe operation to the accustomed boatman.

We proceed past one palace after another, some of them fallen. others falling into decay-others, again, white, new-built, and splendid, the greater number belonging to the Sultan, or built by him. These two are occupied by his two married daughters; his by his harem ; this by his eunuchs ; that large, remarkably splendid and tasteful one, by himself. In front of it, in the water, lie white-painted caiques, with gilded ornaments on stem and stern, In one of these is a red velvet throne, and canopy with gold fringe. More than twenty rowers in white silk shirts are awaiting in this for their mighty lord and governor. A band of musicians stands upon the shore before the palace, ready to strike up on his departure. We pass a little mosque on the shore, as elegant and decorative as a French pavilion. It is called Validé, and was built by the deceased mother of the Sultan, a good woman, who united with it a hospital for the sick of all religions, and a refuge for the poor, who are desirous of learning; a well-meant institution, but which, after the death of the Sultana, fell to-nothing. We hasten past, speeding up the Bosphorus, that we may, if possible, reach the mosque before the Sultan. The firing of cannon, drums, and music announce that the Sultan has left his palace, and his caique is said to fly upon the water. We have half-an-hour in advance ; but it is not long before we see the white and gilded caique behind us, and soon they will be up with us. The ships display their colours, and fire one salute after another, and the sound of drums and music bursts forth from one station to another along the shore. The Sultan passes by; and now the imperial flotilla approaches ; now it is on a line with us—first, a large white caique, with upwards of twenty rowers, all of whom with every stroke of the oar rise up and make a bow to the great ruler himself, as if otherwise they could not keep the true course. He sits upon his throne of velvet and gold, with his canopy over his head a little man in a dark coat and dark red fez. He is in lively conversation with a couple of gentlemen who attend him, and uses much action of the hand. He casts merely a passing side-glance on our little caique, so that I can but indistinctly discriminate his features. No matter; I am sure to see him as he comes out of the mosque. The imperial caique, with its measured oar-strokes, flies over the waves. Seven or eight lesser caiques follow with ministers, generals, and the gentlemen of the court. The white flotilla is soon out of sight, and merely the cannon-shot and the beating of the drums indicate the progress of the Sultan. We follow after.

How beautiful are the shores of the Bosphorus! Asia and Europe put on here their most lovely array, where they approach each other the nearest. It is one succession of parks and country houses : here and there an Armenian or Greek house, with their open windows. The greater number, however, are Turkish, with latticed windows and little holes for the inmates of the harem to peep from. Occasionally glance forth flower-crowned terraces and palaces, with gardens extending from hill to hill and dale to dale, together with here and there a height covered with the pine and spruce firs--a refreshing sight; and in the midst of all this beauty the dancing, glittering waves, bearing on their bosom a crowd of steamboats, sailing vessels, and caiques; flocks of sea-swallows

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