work and conversation sounded dismally through this subterranean abode.

The roof is sustained by an immense number of columns, each one being oddly formed of three separate pillars placed on the top of each other. Though partially filled up by earth, it is still more than thirty feet deep. The roof is about six feet from the surface of the street, and the chamber extends over more than an acre of ground. The strange dresses of the workmen, their unintelligible talk, and the gloomy aspect of the edifice, make it seem a most unearthly place. After looking for a time at the curious pillars, (which, though not so abundant as the Turkish name implies, still exist in great numbers,) and walking round its extent, they were glad to retrace their steps, and not sorry once more to see the clear sunshine of heaven. There is another which still exists as a cistern, though its precise locality is known to but few individuals, not excepting the Turks. A few persons whose houses are situated immediately above it, are acquainted with it, and call it the

subterranean palace. It is in fact quite a lake, extending under several streets; and, like the former, has an arched roof, supported by pillars, said to be three hundred and thirty-six in number, and made of solid marble. The picture gives a glimpse of this wonderful vault. A gentleman thus describes a visit to it. "Having learnt that there was a Greek reservoir in the city in good preservation, and still partially full of water, I made many inquiries respecting it, but all in vain. At length, meeting a friend whose long residence in Constantinople had afforded him the means of knowing more than I could do about it, I asked him if the reservoir was correct. Perfectly so,' said

he, though I never have seen it." Expressing an earnest wish to behold it, he told me, that with a large bribe he thought he could obtain me permission; for he was acquainted with an old Turk, whose house was said to cover one of the openings into it. I readily agreed to give the required douceur, and he arranged to call next morning, if successful. The following morning my friend came with

the news of his success. After passing through several streets, we reached the upper part of the city, and entered an old-looking house. We were received by an aged Turk with a venerable beard, whose dress betokened neither very great wealth, nor very great cleanliness. After being invited to take coffee and a pipe, which we accepted, my friend serving as interpreter to the few words of conversation that passed between us, our host informed us, he was ready to show us the way to the subterranean palace.

"We proceeded to the inner court of the house, and turning sharp to the right, were ushered into a small room, the floor of which was a few steps below the surface of the ground. Here the guide provided two torches, and, putting one into my hands, and carrying the other himself, proceeded to raise a sort of trap-door, and bidding us follow him, began to descend. My friend immediately stepped down after him, and I brought up the rear. After descending thirty steps or more of a strong stone staircase, we felt sure, from the cold dampness of the air, that we were in the immediate

vicinity of water. Our surmises were soon verified, by the Turk (who was a step or two lower than either of us) calling to my friend to take his torch while he unmoored a light boat that was fastened to the winding staircase. A step or two lower, and amid innumerable columns, rising on every hand, we discerned the water gleaming under the light of our torches.

"We were soon seated in the boat, and the Turk, equipping himself with a small pair of sculls, shoved us off. The splash of the chain that had moored the boat, as it fell heavily into the water, echoed through the vaulted cavern. I never shall forget the feeling of bewilderment that for the first few minutes crept over me. Rows of marble columns seemed to rise endlessly, while their polished surfaces glistened in the torch-light. The Eastern dress of our guide, his flowing beard, the dismal silence of this strange place, unbroken, save by the paddling of the boat and the gleaming of our unearthly lights, made me think of the poet's description of the Stygian ferryman. After a time I

began to look round more attentively. The columns are of marble; many of them with Corinthian capitals, though we saw some of the composite, and others of the Doric order. Some retained all the sharpness of their exquisite finish, while others seemed to be undergoing dilapidation from the hand of time.

The

"They appeared to me to be the spoils of more than one temple, appropriated by imperial builders to this use. We looked for an inscription, but could nowhere find one. roof seemed in excellent condition, and appeared to be fifteen or twenty feet above the surface of the water. Unlike most other guides, ours was by no means communicative, and only by dint of questioning him could we learn anything from him. He said, 'the water was unfathomable, and it was as it always had been.' I am of opinion there was from twelve to fifteen feet depth of water in the cistern. It extends under several streets, and from the darkness and gloom which envelope it, its area seems of great extent. It may well be called a lake. After paddling to one extremity,