generally of silk.  On their feet they wear delicate boots, and over these slippers of yellow morocco; on their heads a small fez-cap, from beneath which their hair falls on their shoulders in a number of thin plaits.  Those Turks, male and female, who are descended from Mahomet, have either a green caftan or a green turban.  This colour is here held so sacred, that scarcely any one may wear it.  I would even advise the Franks to avoid green in their dresses, as they may expose themselves to annoyance by using it.

After I had had more than an hour’s leisure to notice all these circumstances, a noise suddenly arose in the courtyard, which produced a stir among the women.  I considered from these appearances that it was time to go to the temple, and hastened to join my party.  A great crowd was waiting in the courtyard, for the Sultan was expected.  I was glad to have the good fortune to behold him on the very day of my arrival.  As a stranger, I was allowed, without opposition, a place in the front ranks,—a trait of good breeding on the part of the Turks which many a Frank would do well to imitate.  In a Turk, moreover, this politeness is doubly praiseworthy, from the fact that he looks upon my poor sex with great disrespect; indeed, according to his creed, we have not even a soul.

I had only stood a few moments, when the Sultan appeared on horseback, surrounded by his train.  He alone rode into the courtyard; the others all dismounted at the gate, and entered on foot.  The horse on which the Sultan rode was of rare beauty, and, as they told me, of the true Arabian breed; the saddle-cloth was richly embroidered with gold, and the stirrups, of the same precious metal, were in the form of shoes, covered with the finest chased work.

The Sultan is a slender slim-looking youth of nineteen years of age, and looks pale, languid, and blasé.  His features are agreeable, and his eyes fine.  If he had not abandoned himself at so early an age to all the pleasures of the senses, he would, no doubt, have grown up a stalwart man.  He wore a long cape of dark-blue cloth; and a high fez-cap, with a heron’s plume and a diamond clasp, decked his head.  The greeting of the people, and the Sultan’s mode of acknowledging it, is exactly as at Vienna, except that here the people at intervals raise a low cry of welcome.

As soon as the Sultan had entered the temple, all flocked in.  The men and the Franks (the latter without distinction of sex) sit or stand in the body of the temple.  The Turkish women sit in galleries, behind such close wire gratings that they are completely hidden.  The temple, or more properly the hall, is of inconsiderable size, and the spectators are only separated from the priests by a low railing.

At two o’clock the dervishes appeared, clad in long petticoats with innumerable folds, which reached to their heels.  Their heads were covered with high pointed hats of white felt.  They spread out carpets and skins of beasts, and began their ceremonies with a great bowing and kissing of the ground.  At length the music struck up; but I do not remember ever to have heard a performance so utterly horrible.  The instruments were a child’s drum, a shepherd’s pipe, and a miserable fiddle.  Several voices set up a squeaking and whining accompaniment, with an utter disregard of time and tune.

Twelve dervishes now began their dance,—if indeed a turning round in a circle, while their full dresses spread round them like a large wheel, can be called by such a name.  They display much address in avoiding each other, and never come in contact, though their stage is very small.  I did not notice any “convulsions,” of which I had read in many descriptions.

The ceremony ended at three o’clock.  The Sultan once more mounted his horse, and departed with his train and the eunuchs.  In the course of the day I saw him again, as he was returning from visiting the medical faculty.  It is not difficult to get a sight of the Sultan; he generally appears in public on Tuesdays, and always on Fridays, the holiday of the Turks.