I am ushered into a pretty drawing room, hung with chintz, from the windows of which, turned towards the road, we are to see the Sultan pass to the mosque.... At a given moment, while a bad orchestra was playing tunes from `Madame Angot,' under a bank opposite the mosque, two broughams full of veiled ladies, after battling with the water-carts which still lingered on the road, and getting much pushed about, drove into the inclosure, and took up their place under the wall of the mosque.... The horses were taken from the carriage, and there the ladies sat boxed up in their broughams listening to the bad music; satisfied, no doubt, for the Turks have no ear, and will listen contentedly to any atrocity. << less