Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.: With The Plain Art of Cookery for Military and Civil Institutions

by the revolution of the moon. An old Turk, with whom I am well acquainted, told me that he recollected its having happened at twelve o’clock in the day, and in the middle of winter.” “A strange custom,” said I. “Well, sir, if you feel interested in Turkish habits and religion, you should inquire about the six weeks of Rhamadhan, when they starve all day, and get intoxicated to madness at night.” “Thank you for your information; but pray continue your description.” “I will. Near the very spot where this festival takes place is the Sultan Mahmoud’s palace, the top of which you can see through those high trees.” “Pray, what are those rows of small domes, like well-corked bottles?” “They are the kitchen chimneys.” “What, all of them?” “Yes, sir; I have often been there, and know well enough that, although the Sultan no longer inhabits it, two or three hundred men-cooks remain in the kitchens.” “For what purpose, my friend, if no one lives there?” “Oh, somebody does. I believe there is a college for some of the favourite sons of high Turkish families. Here,” he continued, “look at this uneven row of houses with lattices. Do you know what they are?” “No; pray what are they?” “Why, Sultan Mahmoud’s harem; and it is most probably still inhabited by a few of his old favourites and their suites, which are very numerous.” “Well, upon my word, those species of châlets put me very much in mind of chicken-cages.” The English officer’s wife, to whom I have before referred, and with whom I had some conversation during the passage, came upon deck while my dragoman was describing the surrounding scenery, and listened with vivid interest, taking notes of the most interesting passages. The dragoman, turning quickly round--“Madam,” said he, “you see that colossal spout shooting out at a sharp incline towards the water. That is the spot from whence, if any of the Turkish ladies prove disobedient or faithless to their imperial lord and master, they are stitched up in a sack alive, accompanied by a starving cat and