2 ONCE AGAIN EASTWARD HO!
Great, who first threw open the Gates of the Morning to Greece and the Western world. In chats like these, with books and maps at hand, we developed our plans, and gradu- ally laid out the route we wished to follow.
With the Eastern lodestar beckoning, there was little time for tarrying in Paris longer than a single day to complete the
- kit ' for our journey and to greet some special friends who
were as much interested in the Orient as we. Constantinople was the first goal we had in view, for I was particularly anxious this time to cross the Black Sea on my way to the Caspian, in- stead of traversing Russia, as I had done on my previous journey to Iran. The close of our busy day of preparations in the French capital found us on board the Oriental Express, booked for the sixty hours by rail to the great metropolis of the Otto- man Empire ; and the third morning following saw us in Constantinople, amid balmy air and a flood of sunshine that lent added sheen to the Golden Horn as it swept past ancient Stambul.
Mosques, minarets, and madrasahs, with touches of color made more brilliant by the shimmer of the blue sea and dazzling Oriental sun ; historic monuments, noble relics of the city's whilom glory as capital of the Byzantine Empire ; thronged narrow streets where hurrying feet can scarce find space to avoid the packs of mangy curs that do duty as town- scavengers ^ ; busy bazars, shops, and booths with cross-legged Turks ; bridges and boats ; smiling gardens cheek by jowl with dilapidated cemeteries ; towers and cupolas ; terraced heights, laid out with broad thoroughfares and graced by up-to-date European buildings that bear witness to the modern progress of a new regime, ' Young Turkey' — these are the hopelessly jumbled impressions that crowd upon the senses as one first sees Constantinople.
Though in Europe, Constantinople belongs in part to Asia, and travelers who are familiar with types of border cities 1 Since banished, as I noticed on my second visit in 1911.
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