The first part I struck looked like a dingy colonial suburb--wooden houses and corrugated iron roofs, and endless dirty, sallow children.

There was a cemetery, I remember, with Turks' caps stuck at the head of each grave.
Then we got into narrow steep streets which descended to a kind of big canal.

I saw what I took to be mosques and minarets, and they were about as impressive as factory chimneys.

By and by we crossed a bridge, and paid a penny for the privilege.

If I had known it was the famous Golden Horn I would have looked at it with more interest, but I saw nothing save a lot of moth-eaten barges and some queer little boats like gondolas.