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

and illuminated minarets, till I awoke at daybreak. My wandering mind having fluttered all night about the Oriental metropolis, I was not in the slightest degree surprised to find myself in the morning in the land which had given birth to the _Arabian Nights_. The sound of a cracked bell was heard from the bottom of the staircase, inviting each traveller to his morning meal. There was a goodly number present, and we sat down about thirty-five. The majority were military men, of various ranks, mostly French and English. Some expressed their regret at my absence the previous evening, fancying--so much for imagination--the dinner would have been more choice had the landlord been personally acquainted with me. At all events, the breakfast-table was well supplied, and I made a hearty meal, amidst the buzzing of various languages. As it was nearly eleven o’clock by the time I had finished, I started for the Embassy, and after about twenty minutes of most laborious gymnastic exercise over the ill-paved Rue (Ruelle it should be called) de Pera, I entered the small wooden gate at the grand entrance of the Palais d’Angleterre, which is majestically located in a fine open space of ground, encircled by a large terrace, with parterres of shrubs and high trees, from which spot a most favourable view of the rich mass of building around is obtained. Modest grandeur, boldness, and simplicity of execution, seem to have been the architect’s sole ambition. I shall probably, in another chapter, describe the beauty and comfort of its interior. The porter having taken my card, I was immediately shown into the library. A few moments spent in this sanctuary of belles lettres afforded me a fair opportunity of closely examining a very excellent and well-executed painting, the style of which assured me that it was a good portrait of his Sublime Majesty, the present Sultan, Abdul Medjid. Ten minutes had scarcely elapsed, when Lady Stratford entered, and addressed me in French, with a smile of welcome difficult to forget. “Well, Monsieur Soyer, we heard of your departure from England for the East.”