From Pole to Pole

olm to

he evening, we travel all night in comfortable sleeping-cars and arrive next morning at the southe

we need not get out before we arrive at Berlin. The section of the train which is to go on to Germany is run by an engine on to a great ferry-boat moored to the quay by heavy clamps and hooks of iron. The rails on Swedish ground are closely connected with those on the ferry-boat, and when the carriages are pushed on board by the engine, they are fastened with chains and hooks so that they may re

ndsome vessel, 370 feet long, brand-new and painted white everywhere. It is almost like a first-class hotel. In the saloon the tables are laid, and Swedish and German passengers sit in groups at bre

RNEY FROM STOCK

p on the horizon, and at last there is nothing to be seen but a dark cloud of smoke rising from the steamers and workshops. We steam along a fairway rich in memories, and over a sea which has witnessed many wonderful exploits and marvellous adventures. Among the wreckage and fragments at its bottom sleep vikings and ot

fting its white chalk cliffs steeply from the sea, like surf congealed into stone. The ferry-boat swings round in a beautiful curve towards the land, and in the harbour of Sassnitz its rails ar

cake on the Baltic Sea, and the train takes us through a landscape which reminds us of Sweden. Here grow pines and spruces, here

towers and spires and closely-packed houses of Stralsund. Every inch of ground around us has once been Swedish. In this

insignificant mound, rises above the level expanse. Yet the land has a peculiar attraction for the stranger from Sweden. He thinks of the time when Swedish gun-carriages splashed and dashed through the mud before the winter frost

a coat of ice, and this period is called the Ice Age. No one knows why the ice embraced Scandinavia and the adjacent countries and swept in a broad stream over the Baltic Sea. And no one knows why the climate afterwards became warmer and drier, and forced the ice to melt away and gradually to leave the ground bare. But we know f

s, and finally come whole rows and clusters of electric lamps and lighted windows. We are passing thro

rl

ich are in constant communication with one another by means of the railways. If we fix our eyes on North Germany, we see what looks like an enormous spider's web, and in the middle of it sits a huge spider. That

fine lines of the railways, we should also see small, dark, short forms running backwards and forwards along them. We should see, as it were, a teeming ant-hill, and after every

ities and states, between the sea-coast and the inland districts, and to and from the heart of Europe. For during the last twenty years Berlin has become the heart of Europe. London is situated on an island, and Paris is too near the

c, the streets of Berlin are not noisy-not nearly so noisy as those of Stockholm-for they are paved with asphalt and wood, and most of the conveyances have rubber tyres on their wheels. As in other large cities, the streets are relieved of a great deal of traffic by trains which run right through the

recesses. Close at hand, too, are the shady walks in the "Tiergarten" (Park), where all Berlin is wont to enjoy itself on Sundays. When we turn eastwards, we have to pass through a great colonnade, the Brandenb

hardly any which are broader, for it is 66 yards across. Between its alternate carriage-roads and foot-walks four double rows of limes and chestnuts introduce a refreshing breath of open country right into the bosom of the great town of stone, with its straight streets and heavy, grey square houses. As we wande

I. B

Library to where Frederick the Great looks down from his tall bronze horse on the children of to-day. On the one side is the Opera House, on the other is the University, with its ten thousand students, and farther on the Arsenal, with its large historical collections of engines of war. We cross over the "Schlossbrücke" (Pa

ies, as well as the Cathedral and the Royal Palace (Plate I.). It looks very grand, this palace, though it

d uniforms, as motionless as if they were cast in wax. They do not turn even their eyes as the guests pass, much less their heads. Now we are up in the state rooms, and move slowly over the brightly polished floor through a suite

ft the Cathedral, with the Lustgarten in fr

nds flashing and sparkling wherever we look, generals and admirals in full dress, high officials, ambassadors from fo

gh the room and greets his guests with a manly handshake. He begins with the ladies and then passes on to the gentlemen and speaks to every one. The Swedish Minister presents me, and the Emperor begins immediately to ask about Asia. He speaks of Alexander's great campaign through the whole of western Asia

nd duchies, its many duchies and electorates, its imperial territory, Alsace-Lorraine, and its three free towns, Hamburg, Lübeck, and Bremen? Does he not rule over sixty-five million people, over 207 towns of more than 25,000 inhabitants, and seven of more than half a million, namely Berlin, Hamburg, Munich, Dresden, Leipzig, Bre

o Consta

ce only with the Elbe, first when we pass Dresden, the capital of Saxony, and again when we have crossed the Austrian frontier into Bohemia, where in a beautiful and densely-peopled valley clothed with trees the railway follows the windings of the stream. When the guard calls out at a large and busy station "Prague," we are

world, and the tower of St. Stephen's Church rises up to the sky above the two million inhabitants of the town. Vienna to a greater extent than Berlin is a town of pleasure and merry genial life, a grand old aristocratic town, a town of theatres, concerts, balls, a

ld, or because he still survives as one of the last of an almost extinct generation, but because by his august personality he keeps together an empire composed of many different countries, races, and religious sects. Fifty millions

th him it perhaps stands or falls; therefore there is no one in the present day whose life is of greater importance to humanity. He has been the object of murderous attempts: his wife was assassinated, his only son perished by a violent death. He is now eighty-two years old, and he has worn the imperial crown for sixty

r the Adriatic Sea. But otherwise all the rivers of the monarchy belong to the Danube, and collect from all directions to the main stream. The Volga is the largest river of Europe and has its own sea, the Caspian. The

950 feet. Farther down, on the frontier of Wallachia, the river is nearly two-thirds of a mile wide; but here the current is slow; creeks of stagnant water are formed, and marshes extend far along the banks. And at the point where the Rumanian railway crosses the Danube, we find at Chernovodsk a bridge over the river which is nearly 2-1/2 miles long and is the longest in all the world. Not far from here the waters of the Danube part into three arms and form a broad delta at the mouth. There grow den

NEY FROM BERLIN

blown sand collects into dunes. Formerly the Hungarian lowland was a fertile steppe, where Magyar nomads roamed about on horseback and tended their cattle and their enormous flocks of sheep. But now agriculture is extended more and more. Wheat, rye, barley, maize, rice, potatoes, and wine are produced in such quantities that they are not only sufficient for the

nd pigs are kept in great numbers, while the rearing of fowls, bee-keeping, the production of silk from silkworms, and the fishing industry are also highly developed. To the nomads, who wander

few hours in the agricultural exhibition at Budapest, where we can see the most attractive models illustrating Hungarian rural life, from pastures and farmyards to churned butter and manufactured cheeses, from the silk-worm in the chrysalis to the valuable silken web. We can see the life of farmers in the country homesteads, in simple reed huts or tents, the various crops they grow on thei

s of tiles or thatch, are very pretty and picturesquely built; and above them, green heights, wooded slopes, flocks and herds, and peasants in bright-coloured motley clothes following the plough. Small murmuring brooks dance in merry leaps down to the Morava, and the Morava itself

f heavy freight. They maintain communication between the series of towns with walls and houses reflected in the gliding water. Their wharves are frequently in connection with trains; and many railways have been built with an eye to the traffic on the Danube. In e

ianople. Here we are in the broadest part of the Balkan Peninsula; and amidst the regular swaying of the train we lie thinking of the famous Balkan lands which extend to the south-Albania, with its warlike people among its moun

tant

. CONSTA

blue water. Stambul is the Turkish quarter. It consists of a sea of closely-built wooden houses of many colours. Out of the confusion rise the graceful spires of minarets and the round domes of mosques (Plate II.). Just below your feet is the great ba

CONSTA

d Pera. There Europeans dwell, and there are found Greeks and Italians, Jews and Armenians, and othe

deep into the land. Its name is the Golden Horn, and over its water p

iant groves. This sound is the Bosporus, and through it is the way to the Black Sea. Due east, on the other side of the Bosporus, Scutari rises from the shore to the top of low hills. Scutari

etween the Black and Aegean Seas, connected by the Bosporus with the former, and by the Dardanelles, the Hellespont, with the latter. The Sea of Marmora is 130 mi

and at the graceful white boats darting across the sound, you may almost fancy that you are in Asia rather than in Europe. You will also notice that this fairway is an important trade route. Innumerable ve

tside the western wall Turks slumber in the deepest shade; cypresses, indeed, are the watchmen of the dead. And all round the horizon this charming landscape passes into fainter and lighter tones, lig

the buzzing round a beehive. Now and then you distinguish the cry of a porter, the bell of a tramcar, the whistle of a steamer, or the bark of

of the Di

ome we see a huge gilded crescent. This has glittered up there for 450 years, but

en completed by the first architect of his time from Asia Minor. The work has occupied sixteen years, and ten thousand workmen have been

tistically arranged mosaic on the gold groundwork of the dome, he is amazed at the hundred columns which support the cupolas and galleries, some of dark-green marble, others of dark-red porphyry. The Emperor's wealth is inexhaustible. Has he not presented to the church seven crosses of gold, each weighing a hundred pounds? Does not the Church of the Divine Wisdom possess forty thousand chalice veils all embroidered with pearls and precious stones? Are there not in the sacristy twenty-four

and are a symbol of the light of heaven hovering over the darkness of earthly life. The vault is flooded with light; and in the mosaic he sees the meek saints kneeling before God in silent supplication. Below the vault he sees the four cherubims with two pairs of wings. He thinks of the first chapter of Ezekiel: "And the likene

moves to his prie-dieu. He falls on his knees and exclaims: "God be praised who has th

ecorated by webs of costly brocade hanging from the windows. The festival is prolonged for fourteen day

ll the temple remains as before. There priests and patriarchs and fathers of the Church assemble to Church Councils, and the great festiva

seminated among the citizens. The Turkish Sultan had stormed in through the walls with his innumerable troops. Beside themselves with fright, men, women, and children fled to St. Sophia, leaving their homes and goods to be plundered. A hundred thousand persons rushed in and locked and barred all the church do

lls. Piercing cries of anguish echoed from the vaulting, mothers pressed their children to their hearts, husbands and wives em

ting for blood. The Prophet has commanded that his doctrines shall be spread over the earth by fire and sword. They are only too ready to obey this order. Already steeped in blo

s of camels and mules are led in on to the temple floor to be laden with the immense treasures. Full of fanatical religious hatred, swarms of black-bearded Turks rush up to the figure of the crucified Redeemer.

moment. He wished to give his flock heavenly consolation in earthly troubles. At last he remained alone. Then he broke off the mass in the middle of a

rawn swords and lowered spears. Next moment he must fall dead over the communion

p again. The soldiers stand still in astonishment. Then they begin to attack the wal

stored to Christian uses, when the wall will open again and the bishop will walk out with the chalice in his hand. Calm and dignified he will

e carries a rider up to the main entrance. He is attended by Mohammedan princes, generals, and pashas.[1] His name is Mohammed II., the Conqueror, the Sultan of the Turks. He is young and

ith," answers the soldier. Then the Sultan draws his sabre, and, cutting the man down, exclaims, "Dogs, have you not loot enough? The buildings of the city

of these minarets sounds the voice of the muezzin, summoning the faithful to prayer. He wears a white turban and a long mantle down to his feet. To all four quarters of the city the call rings out with long, silvery a-sounds and full, liquid l's: "God is great (f

he smoking rissoles and rice puddings, or fruit, coffee, and water-pipes which stand ready, they turn their steps to the old Church of the Divine Wisdom, which still retains its Greek name. Round the minarets thousands of lamps are lighted, and between the towers the sacred names hang in flaming lights. Inside the mosque, on chains fifty feet long, hang chandeliers, f

and green turbans and red fezes with black tassels all mixed together. All turn their faces towards Mecca. All hands go up together to the height of the face and are stretched out flat, the thumbs touching the tip of the ear. Then they b

musical voice. The last word dies away on his lips, but the echo lingers long

ulfil them. When we come to Persia or Turkestan we shall often see a caravan leader leave his camels in the middle of the march, spread out his prayer-mat on t

the continent, over certain regions in south-eastern Europe, and over half Africa. It is no wonder that Mohammedan missionaries find it easy to convert the blacks of Africa. Mohammed promises them Paradise after death, and Par

aars of

ttle of him beyond that he was rich and was considered a good match. His house was situated in one of the larger streets of Scutari, and consisted of two wings completely cut off from each other.

ours she stands behind the lattice in the oriel window which projects over the street and watches the movement going on below. When she is tired of this she goes in again. Her room is not large. In the middle splashes a small fountain. Round the walls extend divans. She sinks moodily on to one of them

fingers with rings, and winds thin silken veils round her head. When she is ready she goes up to the mirror and admires her own beauty. She is really handsome. Her skin is white and soft, her eyes are black, her hair falls in dark waves over her shoulders. She is no

, and stands before the cage of singing birds to amuse herself with them. One of the other wives comes down to the harem garden and calls out to her: "You are as ugly as a monkey, Fatima; you are old and wrinkled and your eyes are red. Not a man in all St

rtant garment of all-the veil. Its upper part covers the head and the forehead down to the eyebrows, while the lower part hangs down over the chin, mouth, and part of the nose. A woman does not show her face to any man but her husband. Of late years many women transgress this rule and let the lower part of the

the gunwale. Two powerful men take their oars, and the caique darts over the blue waters of the Bosporus. Half-way between Scutari and Stambul, Fatima looks eagerly down the Sea of Marmora. She longs for an hour of freedom, and orders the boatmen to change the direction. The wind is fresh, so they pull in their oars and hoist the sail, and the boat gl

t of summer is not felt, and you can walk dry-shod on stormy and rainy days. You are soon accustomed to the darkness, but have great difficulty in finding the way unless yo

treet, and serve also as counters or show stands. The shops are not mixed up together, but each industry, each class of goods, has its own street. In the shoemakers' street, for example, shoes of all kinds are set out, b

tempted to buy everything you see. Here lie mats from Persia, embroidered silken goods from India, shawls from Kashmir, and the finest work of southern Asia and northern Africa. Poor Fatima! Her husband is wealthy enough, but he

s of the bazaar. She passes through the street of the metalworkers and turns off at the armourers' lane. There the

to a passage where water-pipes and all articles connected with smoking are sold. Then she turns in another direction. An odou

in sings out his everlasting "There is no god but God," the exchange of wares and coin is carried on in dark bazaars. The great bazaar in Stambul is one of the richest, but even where the bazaars are small and insignificant the same order prevails, the same mode of life. Among Turkish men and women of high rank stroll poor ragamuffins and dervishes or begging monks. A carav

ee Hindus from India, Egyptians from Cairo, Arabs from the coasts of the Red Sea, Circassians and Tatars from the Caucasus and the Crimea, Sarts

es were fixed, business would soon be done. But if you have taken a fancy to a Kurdish mat and ask the price, the tradesman demands a quite absurd sum. You shrug your shoulders and go your way. He calls out another, lower price. You go

h smoke from water-pipes. The greater the distance the dimmer this confined air appears. There is also an indescribable odour. The smell of men and animals, of dusty

rooms, and with a large open court in the centre. Here resort the wholesale merchants, and here are their warehouses and stocks. Lastly, cafés and eating-houses are found in the

TNO

ials of high rank in Turkey and Egypt, as to go

nsisting of a long gown fastened by a girdle

-wheeled, open carriage, plyin