Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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bShP^ I lie of English Life. ! I. I ' ' WALTEK BESANT i CHAPTER XI?Continued. I^TWhen people have got no money 1 Hey must keep themselves. The Dean Hme to see us this morning. You pow there was no one respected father pore than the Dean. He says that we ire must he brave and make the best of things." "Yes?but, my child, I cannot bear to of your having to work. These ^Hy hands should do nothing but play JHpretty things." Ms for Naomi," said the owner of the |Hpy hands, "she Is so clever with her Kile that she is quite sure to get a Ha place somewhere. Sh9 says that could not take a situation in the Vn to be reminded all day long how < have come down. So she will go to ' ndon, and I must go with her. Then I c Ball be near you, Harry; and perhaps? 1 Brhans " ' [H'Perhaps -what, dear?" "Perhaps, before long, you will be Ible to take me away for good, and then will work at nothing harder than to Bease you, dear." Y "Dear Buth, I ask for nothing better. There could be nothing better. But " "You have not told your people about me? Why not tell them and have done. They can but refuse to call upon me, I suppose." "You don't understand, dear child. They are ambitious. They want to get into society, you see, and they expect me to help them. Well, we are rich enough, I suppose, and we've got' a big house in Palace Gardens, but my grandlather kept a shop. We are only in trade as it is, although we have our offices and our clerks instead of our counter and our shopmen. *See now, Buth, my father wiU give me a partnership when 1 am five and twenty. That is in six months; then I shall be inde BjV pendent. Let us get along, somehow, till theo. I cannot have my darling orMBffl dered about by some scoundrel shopwalker, or working her fingers to the bone." 3S The girl Bhook her head. Bhv "Naomi would not hear of such a H thing,** she said, "unless it was properly BW understood and was acknowledged. No, Harry, I must be independent of you until * "If I oan afford to maintain you dear, H why cot? V "No, not even if I have to go lower 9p dowa the ladder, Harry. Can't von see W that it is impossible? I can. ait for m you. And I don't suppose that 1 'afeall ' f drag you down with.me, shall 1 F She said this with a laugh, but like many light words they were, prophetic.' She was, although she knew if not, to drag him lower?lower; her hand was to be upon his head pushing Kim, down, down, down. "Let us go home," she said. "Alas, Naomi Is going through the things. They all belong to the creditors?even the old books on the shelves?even the swing in the garden?all except our own olothes; even the seat under the mull berry tree. In a day or two we shall go L out of the old home?we two toeether. HL "What will become of us? "What shall we m do?" - ft "You are not without friends," said HBk the young man; "you have me." The wind freshened and the rain beat e A upon their faces.. e W "I am full of .terrors," said the girl. 1 "It seems as if something dreadful { would happen to me." H , "You have me to protect you, Ruth." HnBi Her lover's words were brave, but c BHSksomehow they lacked that subtle quality e ^HS^wwhich insures confidence. t "Yes, Harry, I have you, and you have r BDHHout own people as well; and they are ^H^gHnt likely to welcome the daughter of 8 BRgSfHb county bookseller. Let me go home." i P^P^ CHAPTER III. Ny THE CITY MERCHANT. The chief?the sole partner?the head c of the house?sat In his private office. ? PS' THE BEAD or THE HOUSE. . Wo study or smoking room of any count- i lug house was more oomfortably fur- , nished than this private office. A pile < of letters unanswered lay upon the errant tabl? besido the blottincr Dad: a shallow basket contained the letters whieh he hod written or signed; there were bundles of papers tied up and indorsed. On either side of the fireplace was a long, low chair; on a small table 1 In the window stood the luncheon tray, j Tne chief had takon his chop and pint of 1 claret, and was now sitting in one of 1 those low chairs, his feet stretched out ' before him in complete physical ease. 1 In the rooms without he knew that his 1 managers, heads of departments, and clerks were all diligently at work for 1 him. It makes a man comfortable cnly to think that people are at work for him. ] Host of us, when We are not ourselves at work have got the feeling of unprofit- . able service. Not so Mr. John StoLe. of Threadneedle street, city. He knew < that his people wer^working for him to what Is called s ..retty tune. As he j JU11CU Illt3 <Ji?tU 11JD lipo LlliiL 1 tune melodiously rung in liie ears. The lame tune rings out every day for all the great city merchants. It wa6 first set as a carillon by Diok "Whittington in the tower ol St. Michael's. Paternoster Boyal, for the solace and delectation of 11 rich merchants for all time, and to turn away their thought? from the parable of Dives. The words of the tune can only be heard by rich men. but I have been told that they are soxneth'ng s follows: "Merchant, take thine ease while the treasure grows, wise ^ is he who 'reaps what another BH^^UHlfetame effect. Mr. John Stoke was H^HHS|RKnan of 55 or so. The kind of, the expression upon it are not B&H|^B^9ton in the city?they belong to a HH^H9HH^B.ype of city men?and those who H^HBHH|^Hare generally successful. It is ^^HNHKHrful face. If any of Mr. John HH|U|Bffi|R6rvant6 fail in their duty they ^HQHHH^Bter than to ask for mercy from HHHftca Nelson himself did not confidently than Mr. John man doing his duty. He ^U^MB^HjwK|HH^>opular with his ser^ ^ ^BBHE^SSSkpaghthls labor as he . .X t-ana "beoause lie exacted from Tabor, ai rrom goods, the utmost profit. The la* of politioal economy, which makes t man buy in the cheapest market, whei applied to labor, doeB not, somehow lead to- a contented and happy service It is a law, when applied, which only al love people to be happy wnen it is oro ken. A good many laws, moral, polity cal and doctrinal,possess the same char acteristio. Nobody likes being bough at the cheapest; we all want a fancy price to be put upon our work, especially if we have grown gray in the service Now Mr. John StoKe adlowed no allU' sions on this subject in his office, am bad no respect for gray hairs or foi length of service, or for. anything in thi world except his own interests. He lay back in his chair and watohed the wreaths of Bmoke, listening to thai * * ? 1M pleasant tune?tne para Die 01 r?ivei ijuite forgotten. Presently he began t< think. Mr. John Stoke was one of thos< persons who are gifted with the powei >f thought. Out of politeness we proSend that everybody has this power, Not so; otherwise the majority of mankind would not be as sheep running whithersover they are driven, anc bleating at their leader's command. Bu' let me continue to be polite. This mai lad a little coup in his mind, a trifle Jiat would probably bring him ii ;wenty thousand or so, and he was turn> ng it over so as to get at the best pointi >f handling it. The warmth and com "ortof fireside, lunch, and cigar senc some men into mental sleep. To thii nan they only gave the opportunity oJ lninterrupted thought. Presently the door opened and a roung man stood in the doorway?a tali md handsome young man?you Lave ilready seen him in the walk by the tver side. "Come in, Harry, come in," said th( shief, pleasantly; "shut the door anc1 some in." "You said you should want to speai o me about half-past t\?o." "Yes, I did. Well, my boy, I thoughl hat we might have a few words, perlaps two or three, just to understand ;ach other. Sit down. Take a cigar! STo? Well, you are flve-and-twenty tolay, are you not?" "It ie my birthday." The young mac ooked anxious, yet expectant of some leasing announcement One can onlj >e flve-and-twenty cnoe in life. Besides, things had been promised. "Yes," his father continued, looking sritically at the ash of his cigar. "Yes, res, flve-and-twenty. I was a partnei >efore that age?before we sank the hop and became an office." "There was the shop, though, to begin with," said the son. "Undoubtedly; and a very good shop, oo. We mustn't forget the shop. Nol ikely it will be forgotten. People talk ibout it when they go home from my linner parties; when they have had a ortnieht among my birds, with cham mgne up to the eyes every night, they snigger over the shop in the train going lome; when they have been on a cruise n my yaoht, with everything of the very jest?oh, yes, the more you do for 'em .he better they remember it; the more hey sneer and snigger. Our friends, lear boy, will notreadilyforgetthe shop, [t is their only consolation when they jonsider the prosperity of the firm. II t wasn't for feeling how green they get rith envy I'd never have any old friende n the place at alL " "I don't see why we should want to orgetit, father."/ "No, there is no absolute necessity or forgetting anything. However, we ire now, Harry, pretty high up the tree. don't think there can be many men in ;he city likely to cut up better than youi ather. Very good, then." He looked rt his son for a whole minute as if seekng for the best way to go on. "Very food, then," he repeated, "I've always >romlsed and always intended to take 'ou into partnership at flve-and-twenty, ind now, Harry, I have sent for you to lay that I am willing to carry out that ntention, and to give you a birthday >reBent "worth having." "Oh," said Harry, with a great sigh. "On. conditions, of course. Haag it, to you suppose that I am going to admit my one, even my own sons, into my touse?the house I have made?to share ay income, except on my own terms?" "Well, sir," said Harry, "I always iuppo8ed you would have your own way n everything, whether I am to be a tartner or not." "You are right, my boy. My own way mean to have. Yet these are not my onditions. Now sit there, and don't .newer a single word till I've done. You've had your fling, Harry; that you an't deny. You've lived in your own hambere, and you've had "h good allow,nce, and nobody ever asked any nasty nee what you did with your money, ^ery well, then, riow that's all over. A artner in my house has got to take his >lace?his own place, mind?in society." ?he young man turned pale. "I've been ffered a baronetcy. Well, I won|t have [?; T mean to Oe made a peer. Do yoi hear that? I shall be Lord Thingamy and you shall be the Honorable Harry Very well, then"?he marked his sen tences with short pulls at his cigar? "that's understood. Next thing, how ii that peerage to be advanoed and mad< take a respectable place? Money? no mnnirh! "Land? that isn't enoucrh! Poll tics? I'm too old and you are too stupid Your brother Joe?the Honorable Joe h< will be, may 'take up politics in the lam lly interest; not you. By marriage, nr boy"?the young man ajrain change< color, but this time he became crimsoi ?"if you want to get any good out o your rank-you must marry into the sam< blood as that into which your childrei will be born. By marriage, Harry That's my condition. As to my havinj ny own way, of course I 6hall have m} >wn way. I should like to see anybody ii ills house, wanting to have any way tha wasn't mine. You will have to niarry tx >lease me. Do that, and you shall hav< whatever you like?you shall be a pait ler to begin with; you shall have n< work to do; you shall have fashion, land ind rank." Harry made no reply. His color ha< now gone back to pallor, and bis ham trembled. "Those are my condition," said hi; father. "Have you anything to 6ay?" nib sou openeu mb ujuuiu uut uu euuw 5aJ? "Perhaps I can help you, Harry." Hli Father threw his head back and watohe< the blue-white wreath curling over hi ?MT OWN WAT I MEAT? TO HAVE." face. "I am sure I can help you. Ther is that little girl you have been foolini around for six months." "What about her?" "I know all about her. She's a gir In an Oxford street fancy shop; her sis ter is employed at a Regent street dresa maker's. They are respectable gijm which makes it the more dangerous. -? *Tvelriven my?my word to thaFgirl," said Harry, but with an . apprehensive glanoe at hie masterful father. '"I don't care whatyou have given her. You've got to get rid of her." "I must keep my word." .The son got up and stood before his father with dogged (ape. "Wien two obstinate faces gaze upon each'other, one or the other has got to givein; everybody knows that ' "I said, Harry, that you've got to get rid of her. Aa for your word, or any vother mess you may have got into, you must get out of it the best way you can. r ... ~ mi J. u ? 1 A UUppUDC UiUUCJ ITIU UU 111, r "I must marry her; I will marry her!" 3 But there was a weakening In his face as his father's look became more ob Btinate. < t "Well, sir,* said the older, "I am not i going at my time to give in to anybody. } My money's my own, I suppose, to do j what I like with. Now, sir, here is my r offer?a partnership, a great future, an estate, a peeraee, the foundation of a family?that is what I offer you, on cer| tain conditions. If you refuse you can . go straight out of this office and never [ come back again. You shall have no t money?not a brass cent. There's your j choice; take it I'll give you aa hour to make up your mind?no, I won'tl I'll j give you half-an-hour?no, I won't give you even a quarter of an hpur. Damn | it all, sir, I'll give you five minutes? Ave minutes to choose. Now!" I He toos out his watch, one or those j great gold things which you can buy for f a hundred and twenty pounds or thereabouts, and held it in. Ids hand. Harry t stood .before him, the obstinacy gone clean out of hie face, pale, and tremVIUJi ? UliJJg. , "Well, sir?" His father put back his watch. i "1 accept the conditions," Bald the I son. CHAPTER 7,V. ' 6UNDAT jLFTEHNOOW. . Sunday afternoon is the time when all the 'prentice youth of London, male and j female, are walking out together.V If it > is summer they are in the park, that of Battersea, Finchley, Hampstead, Victoria, West Ham, or Southwark, proudly arm-in-arm. If it is the winter they are , on their way "out to tea." This afternoon should have been numbered with those of the sweet spring season, because it was nearly the end of April, , but a cold northeast wind and occasional driving showers forbade the thought of 1 spring. On the north side of the Pall , Mall a girl walked up and down the pavement. Bhe had called at a certain house, and, Deing turned away, continued as if waiting for some one, and resolved to j see that person, to walk up and down ' before the hou6e. She began about ; three in the afternoon; at four, at five, . at six, she was still walking there. Nobody notioed her?not even the hall ! porters of the Carlton and the Beform Clubs opposite. The evening'was so i cold that people hurried along the street , without looking at eaoh other. Besides, Pall Mall is not a crowded Sunday thoroughfare. Therefore no one notioed the girl. She was a fair, Ught-haired girl; her features were regular and delicate; her eyes were blue, her figure rather , thin, but tall and graceful. If anyone had stopped to look at her instead of | hurrying along as if lathed with a whip by this abominable wind, he would have ; remarked first?generally, that here was ah extremely pretty girl, and secondly, that here was a girl in trouble. Indeed, If anxiety were ever depicted upon any 1 face, it was upon this girl's lace; an anxiety which showed itself in a trein; tiling of the'lips, in quick, sEort sigCs i Las i?e walked, in eager glanceB along ,''tt^yreet as if she were asking when? ;V \v ould he come? \vs at seven o'clock, just as the sun 1 oetting and the lessening light like a-messenger proclaimed the fact from its hidden lord, that he did tome. He | hurried into Pall Mall froix St. James j street, and walked rapidly along, looking down: a yourig man. "I accept." he had replied shortly. Mark that this man, who seemed to the girl so noble and so brave, had beoome suddenly at the touch of his father's hand the merest cor and coward .or a 1 man; he had promised a thing which wanted, to.carry it through, the falsest, 1 the coldest, the cruelest of hearts. Fear of poverty and dread of hi3 father's anger were the ruling forces which transformed a lover, manly, true and tender, into a cur. The thing makes one tremble. Under what influences, 1 brother of mine, should we two put off the armor of the knight and reveal the craven tail of the mongrel our? Yet this man, who was going to do so mean, and villainous a thing at h:s father's bidding, had so much of his father's oourage in him that he vas ready to tall the girl in so many words, face to face with her alone, what he meant. "Come," he said, "I was going to write to you; but there would have been a row 1 afterward. Bettw have it out in words." ? "Harry?wtmt is it? What has hap pened? Why do you look so strange?" "Come up stairs," he led the way. 3 His chambers were on the first floor. * He raked up the low ashes of his fire t and threw on some coal. - ' " Sit down," he said "you must be cold." She waited for him to take her in his 3 arms and kiss her, as was his wont. He - offered bo caress at all. She Bat down, f however, and warmed her hands and 1 feet. She was very cold. .Then she l' started up again. f "Something has happened, Harry. 3 What is it? Tell, me instantlv." 1 "It was growing dark now. "TCho young ' man lit the lamp and pulled the curtains slowly, as if taking as much time as r possible ver the job. l "It is a fortnight since I have heard of b you or seen you. What does it mean? ) And, Harry, I must tell you " ? "Don't tell me anything. Look here, Buth, it's all over." > "All over? How can it be all over?" , "I say?it i6 all over." "Do you mean that after all you will 1 have to acknowledge me without your 1 father's permission?" "Not quite; I mean what I say, Buth. } It is all over. ** "Harry!" She sprang to her feet, 1 tired no longe, nor cold, but fired with a sudden strength. "Harry, what do ? VAII maon?" i _ "We had a very pleasant time in the 3 ' August holidays, hadn't we, Ruth? I shall always look back to that time in the old town when we used to sit and make love in the garden under the mulberry tree. Yes?I shall never have such a time agaip. But that's all over. Pity that pood times never last " "I don't understand you to-day, Harry. Why can't you look me in the face? Wnat have you done?" "When I came back to town I found out that it wouldn't do. I couldn't exactly explain to you why it wouldn't do. Besides, to tell the truth, I hoped It wouldn't do. I 'might have been'made a partner without conditions | or?or anything may happen. The truth is, of course, as I suppose you 1 gues'j," he raised his eyes and faced her boldly, "that they want me to marry a liulv " -/She received this brutality without flinching. 0 [to be coktikced.] 3 ' v An Imported Sport. ] ThMrfry most promising sport thia winter . ^^gaHFei.'t importation from th? French p!a:e?, and ev?rybody who visits H||^Biow Roes shrimping, pronouncing BHB H^Bu Laveatioa of the aae. :? _ WITH THE" SULTAN. A PEN PICTURE OF THE BUtEB OF TUB KEY. I Abdul Hamid's Fear of Assassination ?A Peep Into His Harem and a Visit to the Treasury?Gorgeous Palaces. I SAW the Sultan of Turkey in Constantinople, writes Frank G. Carpenter in the Chicago TimesHerald. Through oar Amerioan Legation I was able to visit many of Viin imlftftAR. T wfmfc tn the Treftsnrv. and saw the peeks of precious stones which are there storecr away. I was present when the Saltan took his way to the mosqne across the oity, where His Majesty must go once a year to kiss the mantle of Mahouiet. Daring my stay in Constantinople I had a number of interviews with the men closest to him, much of whioh could not then be published, and secured, I believe, as good an idea of Abdul Hamid's character as oould be gotten. I was told that even then the great fear of his life was assassination. It was whispered to me that he never went to sleep at.night for fear that a violent death might creep upon him * THE TO.MBS 0 in the darkness. He had -watchmen stationed about his palaeei and on the towers to warn him of any approaching crowd. He never went out without he was accompanied by soldiers. There were 10,000 troopB present the day 1 hew him go to prayers, and when he took the tour across the oity to kiss Mahomet's mantle, the oavalry galloped like mad through the streets to clear*the way for him, and his road from.the palace to the mosque was walled with soldiers. With a wealthy Mahometan I sat in a second floor room, the windows of which overhung the street, and' saw this man riding along with his then most famous general Osman Pasha, and with perhaps a hundred carriages containing the favorite ladies of his harem following behind.. His saddle horse and another ABDUL HAMTD, BOLTAK 07, TURKEY. carriage were in the procession, and an til the last moment it was not known whether he woald come, to Stamboal by boat or across the Qolden Horn by bridge. The Saltan has never allowed any one to know of his movements beforehand. He has only trusted those olosest to him. I was told that he ate 4.1*af. nnnlrorl in "hio nurn liU 1WU UUV VUWV VVVAUvt 4M M<W W?r? kitchens, and that every dish was tasted before he partook of it He had no confidence in any of his palaces except that of Yildiz, which he thought he had so fortified that revolution could not attack him. He was frightened almost to death when the Czar, Alexander II, of Bussia, was assassinated some years ago, and his life has been one of continuous Unrest. He has, all told, from thirty to forty palaces, a number of which are on the banks of the Bosphorus. Yildiz is situated on a hill, and its grounds contain aores of ravines, of forests and lakes, of parks and gardens. Not far from it is the great palace of Dolma Bagtche, where Abdul-Aziz, the brother of thiB Sultan, committed suicide in order that another brother named Murad might be raised to the throne. Murad was pulled down by other conspirators, who charged that he was orazy, and-it is said that he is pining in the dungeons of one of the palaces along the Bosphorus. AbdulAziz furnished this Dolma Bagtche palace. He spent $3,000,000 a year on his harem, and within twelve months expended $600,000 for pictures alone. I went through the palace while I was in Constantinople, through a special permit from the Saltan. It has scores of rooms, walled with satin. It has nr^rttol nnoto do lor era nrnnnd AR the Kiljavm ? ?ov body of a man and more than six feet tall. It has Insurious couches and magnificent furniture, but AbdulHainid has feared it becausc it is too near the water, and he has only used it for public receptions. But let me tell you how Abdul, Hamid looked a* I saw him on his way to mosque about six years ago. He sat in an open carriage drawn by magnifioent blaok horses, and driven by a coachman whose body was resplendent in a red velvet suit embroidered with gold. The Sultan sat on the baok seat, and was more simply dressed than any one of the 10,000 soldiers about him. There was a red fez cap on his head, the taBsel of which hung almost to his shoulders. He wore a suit of blaok clothes, the coat OUC nign line iuui 01 a picnvuci, ouvc that the coat was edged with red cord. He wore a white shirt and turnover oollar, and there was no sign of sword or pistol about him. The Turkish cap has no brim, ; '.tokSU* " V wV:i?jC^.i^^Kvr?p 3J*^55^*W^^e^iitie*?ie*e*5e *e and I got a good view of h* features. They were almost Jewish in cast,; and they reminded me jptmch of those of the late Jay Gould.' His complexion was sallow. His eyes were large, black and lustrous, the white about them having that yellow tinge which indicates a derangement of the liver. These eyes shifted to and fro as he rode toward the mosque, and it seemed to me that I could see the fear in them. He looked as though he had lost sleep, and he was nervous and worn. As he rose to get out of the carriage and go into , the mosque, X noted that he was about five feet nine inches high, and he weighed then, I judge, about 150 poxihds. I could see his hands as they rested on bis knees. They were as long and as thin as the hands of a Chinaman, and I saw that one of them was doubled up into a fist When he came out of the mosque be took a different vehicle; to ride back to the palace. His favorite saddle horse was present, but he passed this by and stepped into a pony carriage, taking the linea into his own hands, and walking the ponies until he got outside of the crowd- The road to the mosque was covered with well-watered sand about six inches deep, and the streets through which the Sultan rides are always protected in this way, in order that his royal bones may not be F THE SULTAN. ? ? ? jolted in going over the cobble stonec and macadam. . Daring my stay I bad a chance tc see some of the Sultan's horses. H? hasabout 2000 in his stables, and among these are specimens of nearlj every breed in the world. Hia fines! horses are of Arabian blood, and- hif favorite mount was a beautiful Arabian bay. He often took rides in the grounds of his palace, and when General Lew Wallace was Minister to Con' stantinople he and the Sultan often rode together. The Sultan is a good shot, and I was told that he could break a dozen vases with a revolver while galloping past- them on horseback. He has always been particular as io tbe.horaes of his army, and eaofa of the regiments, which accompanied him to the mosque was mounted on Arabian horses of one color. During a talk I had with General Wallaoe not long ago he spoke very highly of thic Sultan, saying that he was .a much greater man than he has been generally supposed. I was told that he did a great deal of work, keeping track oi foreign affairs, as well as those of hie own country, and that he had the foreign newspapers translated for him. He has been so surrounded, however, by officials and spies that it has been impossible for him to know what ha* been going on in his oountry, and il is a question whether he has even bees able to control the factions whioi make up his Government., The whole Turkish Empire is' honeycombed wift spies,. and Constantinople is a city ol intrigues and intriguers. It will be surprising|to many tc know that the Sultan's wives are ali of slave origin. The danger of assassination from the harem has made il the custom of Turkey* for the, Snltai 1 x? ?? TKio w*Qtrur?fo nnlif COb iiU UllUi Jt , JLma^AofVMm ?mw ical intrigues of a many branchec royal family, and all of the Sultam have bad slave mothers. Abdul-Hamic had, I was told, 1000 women in hit royal seraglio, and as this number ii recruited every year by slaves frou Georgia and Guroaasia, the imperia harem probably contains that numttei to-day. It is curious to know what ii done with such a horde of wives ii case of the death of a Sultan. It ii said that the grandfather of Abdul Hamid sewed up nearly 200 of th< wives of his predecessors in Backs and loaded the sacks with shot. H< X . ' ; THE SULTAN G then droppei them into the Bos phorus, in order that there might b< no treachery among the ladies of the palace. I saw a number of the harem ladies daring the Saltan's trip across the oity. They rode in cabs, the win' TnVlinh WHTA ntlRtl. ftlld tllOUGft their faces were covered, the veils wer< of the thinnest gauze, and I could sec them almost as plainly as though the; had worn no veils at all. They were not, to my eyes, extraordinarily beautiful, and not a few seemed rathei old. Eaoh of the carriages was driven by a swell coachman, beside whom sal a sober faced ennuch with a long whip in his hand, and ennnohs rode up and down the line, jealously guarding their charges. A large part of the servants of the palace are ennuchs. There " ~ arini/iVi rcVir> has eharcre oi all the women abont the Saltan, and who is almost as important a man a* the Grand Vizier. He gets a big salary, and his influenoe is euoh that b? ' 9 is able to mate a fortune out of it dur- ] J inf? his office. There are 7000 servant* thflH tan. and each of his favorite wiveehaa wiBwi servants of her own. At the head of ia^^B THE SULTAN'S SOLDIERS. fl ; _?: M the harem, i* the mother of the Sal tan, who is known as the Yalide Sol tana, and who has something to do ? IHH to picking* out and training the Bui- I tan's wives. This woman roles the HH harem. The papers are fall of the poverty of I Turkey. The debt of the country runs high into the hundreds of millIons, and all things are taxed. The I customs duties never get into the^^HH hands of the Sultan. They are paid j^BBH to the foreign bondholders, and the tribute from Egypt goes almost di recti? to Enstfand. HiB Majesty is supposed to be poor, but his private expenditures have amounted always tofl many millions a year, and there is al vast amount of money tied up in the^MIH jewels of his treasury. It was^J^H through the private secretary of the^^^H ; Sultan that I got access to his treas-^^^H ury. Guarded by Turkish soldier^ and accompanied' by officers whoseB ? 'swords clanked over vm niairble floorft^H^H I wandered "about room after roomfl^^H| I feasted my eyeB on oases loaded wi^^H^H enough gold plate to have broken thfl f backs of haft a dozen Govarnmen^M^^P i mules, and I broke the tenth co m mandB meht many times as I examined > jewels, which, by the way, are kepHBRD ? behind glass. There is at least a pecfl I of big diamonds in this treaeurj^H^^H ' There are quarts of pearlsrof all ehap^fl r and sizes, from the little seeds u i as the head of a pin. to the gzet^^H^H irridescent beauties _the size f a hickory nut. There is OGHjHB famous emeral^ which . is tfl big as your fist,"?nd there are enou^^BBIH i watohes, which are set with pearls, sol 1 diamodds, to fill a two-bushel baake^^^^H 1 There is agolden cradle, covered wi? precious stones, in which the childr J| of seven different Sultana are said fl S hare Blept, and I counted a doz^^^^H band mirrors, with frames of gold Settings of emeralds, ^dbies and dfl l monds. There is one arm chair as f.: as thai in whioh your grandfati^^^^H % sitB whioh is of rsolid gold,; set i precious stones, and whioh has a aaM cushion upon it which is embroide? ! with pearls.' This chair is kept un^^^^^H 1 a glass ease, and it - has a little gfl : footstool in front of jt, ! There i toilet table the top of which is mflMMH h of lapis lazuli and the feet of wb^HHHH h are' claw-shaped,; the claws beuag of diamonds, , emeralds, rabies carbuncles. Big diamonds hang dcM^BR > from the top of the tabloj and the edge of it therek a .dtfep.fria^^^^^^H l diamonds. I Another wonderiul thing is the i lection of bed quilts^ which are^^^^^M : broidered with pearla-y Take the ' Of. a,wide bed and cover it with p^^^H|H ot all ei^eB, irom toose as ox^ *a > to 6ome as large as the fat tent clfl 1 nut. String thousands of such p<fl into all shapes, so that they coveiB t quilt with embroidery, and' yon i some idea of the kind of bed under which the most "famoim^^HB I the SultanB of the past have a 3 And then the . collection of |0|H| I; mqr 1 There, are num&ons i and upon one sworlhilt 1 copnt^^^^^^H : teen diamonds, each of which v>m i big as the top of a man's thumbfl L there were other swords set wi^^HH^H r kinds of jewels.* There were embroidered with pearls, witl^^^^^^H i rnps of silver. There were pip^B^HBHH i with diamonds, and one oase eon^^^HHSHH - the coBtomea of the Sultans 3 past, each of whioh blazed oions stones. Of the gold plate^^^SHHH > were dishes of solid gold big efl iiuipj OING TO PRAYER. for a baby's bath tab, and tb^HRHEH^H > plates, caps and' sancers, pitchers, massive and heavy t this same precions metal. i tion filled a number of roon^^B^^^^^H must be worth many million^^HH^HH^H tains the accnmnlated of the Sultans the^^H^^H^^^H i when the Turkish Empire _^_gjdeiLap among the rulers there will be a great scramb^B^B^^M^^H most preoioas objects in ary vaults. After leaving this treasnr^^^^^^^J^H| the tombs of the Saltans. to be seen in one the Constantinople. They marble, and each tomb is by a fence of wrought silve^^BB^^^H^H ered with the most preciouw^^H^HBH| mere shawls. The fez cap tan beneath, studded with is placed on top oi his toml^Hflf^^HHH sido the fence, on racks ofH|^^HMHB 1 laid with mini In MMtMBI SDIhHBH