The boatmen vociferate, and shove alongside in spite of all their competitors; the motley group of passengers, Mussulmans, Armenians, Greeks, Jews, Franks, all huddled together, move not, speak not, but fasten their eyes upon the shore, with the firm conviction, that as they were safely landed the day before, they will be equally successful to-day. A prolonged, shrill musical cry, ya-lu-nuz! hushes every other sound; there is a simultaneous movement among the cayiks, a moment's pause in the hurrying crowd on shore, as way is made for the embassy boat with its gilded prow, flying colors, and five pair of oars. The Eltchy-Bey! is whispered from ear to ear.
Even the beautiful canopied boat of the sultan sometimes passes this way; propelled by twenty-eight men, it rapidly glides over the waters, with the regular music of the plashing oars. The cannon peals forth a royal salute from the shore, and the landing of Top-hané resumes its bustling appearance.
Thousands of men, women, and children, are daily landed here, of every rank and clime, and doubtless, in each bosom one similar emotion, for a moment displaces all others: gratitude for the footing gained; then rushes in the vast tide of human hopes, cares and anxieties. The platform upon which they step, is wretchedly out of repair; the keahya, who gains a slender pittance by holding the boats from which so many are safely landed, is invariably a trembling old man; and as the crowd necessarily jostle each other, it is astonishing that there are so few accidents. But Oriental self-possession has its careful measured gait, and it is rarely that any stumble, though Turkish indifference leaves cracks, crevices, and chasms in yawning boldness. There is a large open area, just after you land; apparently Nature's great warehouse, solid ground for a foundation and the vault of heaven for a roofing. Along the shore lie numberless small coasters, whose crews and cargoes are alike begrimed with darkness, for they have come down from the Black Sea to supply the city with charcoal, the ordinary fuel; and immense piles of wood proclaim the demolition of forests of trees.
There, too, is a great market place, or rather a centre of attraction to the venders of various merchandise, whom time and custom have established in their prerogatives, for there is no building whatever for the convenience or protection of this sort of commerce. Here, then, in the open air, are butchers, green-grocers, fishmongers, bakers, fruiterers, and basket-makers, an epitome of practical life. But here too, is the mosque, the minaré, and the fountain, carrying away in its limped flowing, impurities both spiritual and physical.