Filled with such dreams of Co nstantino-ple's future, I stepped one afternoon upon a steamer bound for Italy, and sailed out southward on the Sea of Marmora. The sun was sinking fast behind the Moslem minarets. To me the city of the Bosporus had never seemed so beautiful. In such a light her evil qualities all vanished; her degradation disappeared. She stood transfigured in the sunset of a brilliant past and in the dawn of a more brilliant future. For Constantinople has a future. She never can revert to impotence, like Ephesus and Palmyra. Her peerless site makes such a fate impossible. Though built upon the ashes of dead empires, she nevertheless survives them all, and, centuries hence, will no doubt smile as magically as she does to-day in her eternal youth. No, while the world shall last, the Sovereign of the Black Sea and the Marmora can never be dethroned, for God Himself has set upon her brow the seal of immortality.
The Sea Of Marmora.