He was sent one morning from
the European palace of ----, at Pera, on business in Constantinople. He
was in a great hurry, but as he reached the Meytiskellesi, or wharf of
the dead, and was about stepping into his caeik to be rowed across the
harbour of the Golden Horn, either a nail in one of the rough planks of
the wooden quay caught his slipper, or a post on it his robe, I forget
which--but the dragoman turned round, and saw standing close by him, a
tall and very notorious African magician, who had long been practising
at the capital, and was known to every body as one of the lions of the
place. To do a civil thing, and perhaps to keep well in this world with
one who had intercourse with the spirits of the next, the dragoman
naturally supposing he was waiting there on the water's edge only to
cross over from the suburb to the city, very politely invited him to
take a passage in his caeik. The tall African made no verbal reply, but
smiled, and waved his hand to decline the high honour.
[3] A Turkish saying, much in use.
The dragoman then concluding, that instead of waiting to cross over
himself, he was expecting the arrival of some one from the opposite side
of the Golden Horn, stepped into his caeik, which instantly glided from
the quay and shot across the port.
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