"
Oh, how glad we were! We loaded them with thanks and hand-luggage, and
scrambled down the stairway at the side of the steamer. A dozen dirty
hands were stretched out to receive us. We clutched at their sleeves
instead, and pitched into the boat, and our trunks came tumbling after
us, and away we went over the roughest of seas, which splashed us and
made us feel a little queer; and then we landed at the dirtiest,
smelliest quay, and picked our way through a filthy custom-house,
where, in spite of bribery and corruption, they opened my trunk and
examined all the photographs of the family, which happened to be on
top, and made remarks about them in Turkish which made the other men
laugh. The mud came up over our overshoes as we stood there, so that
altogether we were quite heated in temper when we found ourselves in
an alley outside, filled with garbage which had been there forever,
and learned that this alley was a street, and a very good one for
Constantinople, too.
The porters in Turkey are marvels of strength. They wear a sort of
cushioned saddle on their backs, and to my amazement two men tossed my
enormous trunk on this saddle.
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