“Previously, however, a vast extent of ocean has to be traversed, which is accomplished in an incredibly short space of time, during which period much suffering from sea-sickness is to be expected, and many are compelled to keep to their cabins, creeping only upon deck occasionally to cheer the heart with a distant glimpse of land, as Malta and Gibraltar have appeared to view, and as speedily vanished from sight, leaving, like the false mirage, no trace behind. At last the shores of _Ingleterra_ are discerned. The announcement is heard with indescribable delight, for the term of purgatory is about to expire. Well wrapped in a _burnoos_, for, although midsummer, the air is keen, you scramble upon deck, and being comfortably seated, take a first survey of the famed shores of Britain. As far as the eye can stretch, the whole land appears to be what is really the case, in a high state of cultivation. Houses and windmills innumerable meet the view, and a vast number of smoking minarets, which on inquiry prove to be the chimneys of countless factories. But you are not left long to consider these matters—what is occurring in the more immediate vicinity of the steamer rivets your attention. Thousands of vessels of all sizes, shapes, and nations, are moving up and down the channel. Gigantic men-of-war steamers—still larger mail-packets, ships-of-the-line, frigates, sloops, gun-brigs, Indiamen, schooners, barks, boats, all puffing and sailing, pitching and rolling, and getting entangled with one another in the most alarming manner. Frenchmen shouting and screaming to fishing-boats—Italians stamping at pilots—Greeks throwing their red caps overboard, pulling their hair in despair at not being able to make themselves understood. In short, the confusion of this Babel of tongues is so great that you stand and look on stupified and bewildered with amazement, and so overcome with alarm and the novelty of the thing, that you have ceased to watch the ship’s progress till the anchor is down, and you find yourself in the custom-house surrounded by boxes and inquisitive people, whilst thunder seems to be rolling along the streets outside.
“A kind friend passes your luggage through the custom-house and hurries you into a cab, so imbecile and helpless have you become. If you had eyes all around your head, they would not suffice to look at the people and the sights in the streets. Thousands of people are pushing and running, and shouting and walking, in every direction; hundreds of carriages, three and four abreast, blocking up every thoroughfare. Now come waggons and carts of every description, omnibuses innumerable, and cabs; all these being the _arabaz_, or wheeled conveyances, varying in size, shape and colour, the number of wheels on which they move, and the number of horses by which they are drawn; some conveying mountains of bale goods, others laden with beer-barrels, whilst some are exclusively for the use of passengers. The noise created by these numerous vehicles jolting over the hard roads is greater than the roar of the Sultan’s artillery. What are all these people come out to see;—is your first natural inquiry. Is there a fire, or has there been an earthquake, or are all the suburban villages and towns pouring in their multitudes to witness some grand spectacle? You are inclined to doubt your friend when he tells you that this is an every-day occurrence in London; but experience proves him to be correct. _Wallah yar effendem_. If Stamboul were in flames, and all the Sultan’s harem burning, there could not be a greater concourse of people than may every day be encountered, between the hours of three and five, in one single street of London, and all the other hundred streets are almost equally well filled. Men, women, and children, all busy, all intent on some errand or occupation. Perhaps few, if any, of the vast crowd you encounter have come out simply for air and exercise. The reason for all this is, that London is a very dear city, talent plentiful, occupation scarce, so that every one is obliged to depend upon his own individual active exertions to enable him to procure even a crumb of bread. _Inshallah Būkera_ (to-morrow, please God) is a phrase wholly disregarded in England, and not to be found in an Englishman’s vocabulary. If you were to put off till to-morrow what might be done to-day, you would find yourself a beggar.