DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62355#0258
112
BEAUTIES OF THE BOSPHORUS.
branches ; veiled women come and go with their earthen vessels in quest of the
pure water of the village spring; the gay sounds of the zebec ring out from the
coffee-kiosques ; the channel-wind, as it sweeps along the ripple, awakens the
mysterious music of the leaves which overhang it; the white sails of the passing
vessels glimmer in th^ sun-light—the fruit-merchants heap up their luscious
stores in tempting profusion, ready to be conveyed in boats to the markets of
the city—and the whole scene is so cool, so shady, and so still, that it is not
wonderful that the nature-loving Orientals should have selected it as a village
site, even in a land abounding with pleasant glens, and nooks teeming with
loveliness.
The broad street, opening from the shore, climbs the hill behind it; its
irregularly gabled and many-coloured houses finally terminating in vineyards
and olive-groves; while a mountain-stream, feeding the wheels of a mill, goes
dancing in the light, now fully visible, and now buried beneatli the dense vege
tation upon its banks, until it throws itself into the Bosphorus. A very pretty,
well-kept, and rather extensive garden, belonging to Achmet Pasha, occupies
a portion of the height behind the village; and is succeeded by a small forest,
where groups of Turkish and Greek ladies are constantly to be seen during the
summer months, enjoying the dolce far niente so congenial to the climate;
forming gipsy-parties under the trees, or sauntering slowly along beneath the
dense shadows of the boughs, collecting the beautiful wild-flowers which abound
in that pleasant place.
Many of the Greek merchants have their summer residences at Mirgheun;
and there is, consequently, an air of cheerfulness imparted to the village by the
freshly-painted houses of these gentlemen, which adds much to its attraction;
while, in its immediate neighbourhood, the traveller will look upon the castle-
fortress of Mahomet, with the peaceful little cemetery of Isari sleeping at
its foot.
BEAUTIES OF THE BOSPHORUS.
branches ; veiled women come and go with their earthen vessels in quest of the
pure water of the village spring; the gay sounds of the zebec ring out from the
coffee-kiosques ; the channel-wind, as it sweeps along the ripple, awakens the
mysterious music of the leaves which overhang it; the white sails of the passing
vessels glimmer in th^ sun-light—the fruit-merchants heap up their luscious
stores in tempting profusion, ready to be conveyed in boats to the markets of
the city—and the whole scene is so cool, so shady, and so still, that it is not
wonderful that the nature-loving Orientals should have selected it as a village
site, even in a land abounding with pleasant glens, and nooks teeming with
loveliness.
The broad street, opening from the shore, climbs the hill behind it; its
irregularly gabled and many-coloured houses finally terminating in vineyards
and olive-groves; while a mountain-stream, feeding the wheels of a mill, goes
dancing in the light, now fully visible, and now buried beneatli the dense vege
tation upon its banks, until it throws itself into the Bosphorus. A very pretty,
well-kept, and rather extensive garden, belonging to Achmet Pasha, occupies
a portion of the height behind the village; and is succeeded by a small forest,
where groups of Turkish and Greek ladies are constantly to be seen during the
summer months, enjoying the dolce far niente so congenial to the climate;
forming gipsy-parties under the trees, or sauntering slowly along beneath the
dense shadows of the boughs, collecting the beautiful wild-flowers which abound
in that pleasant place.
Many of the Greek merchants have their summer residences at Mirgheun;
and there is, consequently, an air of cheerfulness imparted to the village by the
freshly-painted houses of these gentlemen, which adds much to its attraction;
while, in its immediate neighbourhood, the traveller will look upon the castle-
fortress of Mahomet, with the peaceful little cemetery of Isari sleeping at
its foot.