Right down from the steppes of Tartary, keen, fierce,
and steady as a northern conqueror. Methley's servant, who was the
greatest sufferer, kept his saddle until we reached Stamboul, but
was then found to be quite benumbed in limbs, and his brain was so
much affected, that when he was lifted from his horse he fell away
in a state of unconsciousness, the first stage of a dangerous
fever.
Our Tatar, worn down by care and toil, and carrying seven heavens
full of water in his manifold jackets and shawls, was a mere weak
and vapid dilution of the sleek Moostapha, who scarce more than one
fortnight before came out like a bridegroom from his chamber to
take the command of our party.
Mysseri seemed somewhat over-wearied, but he had lost none of his
strangely quiet energy. He wore a grave look, however, for he now
had learnt that the plague was prevailing at Constantinople, and he
was fearing that our two sick men, and the miserable looks of our
whole party, might make us unwelcome at Pera.
We crossed the Golden Horn in a caique. As soon as we had landed,
some woebegone looking fellows were got together and laden with our
baggage. Then on we went, dripping, and sloshing, and looking very
like men that had been turned back by the Royal Humane Society as
being incurably drowned.
