But I told her that that was her punishment for trying to prove that a
missionary had cheated her, for she was not in that place for a godly
purpose.
At another time, however, we met with better success in obtaining a
sensation of a different sort. We visited, in company with our Turkish
friend, a small but wonderfully beautiful mosque not often seen by
ordinary tourists, and afterwards went up on Galata tower to get the
fine view of Constantinople which may be had there. It was just before
sunset again, and I am quite unable to make you see the utter
loveliness of it. We crawled out on the narrow ledge which surrounds
the top, and I had just got a capital picture of my companion as she
clutched the Turk to prevent being blown off, for the wind was
something terrible, when suddenly the keepers rushed to the windows
and jabbered excitedly in Turkish and ran up a flag, and behold, there
was a fire! Galata tower is the fire observatory. By the flags they
hoist you can tell where the fire is. I never was at a fire in my
life. Even when our stables burned down I was away from home.
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