In the centre of this gorgeous room, on a dais, or a part of the floor raised to about a foot and a-half above the level of the rest, and laid with a rich Turkey carpet, stood a long table, at the top of which the sultan placed the Admiral, and then made the signal for tea.  First entered an attendant, bearing a large tray, on which were ranged several dozens of exceedingly small cups.  This he placed on the carpet, and then squatted himself down, cross-legged, beside it.  Another attendant soon followed, bearing the tea-pot, and he likewise popped himself down.  After a conjuration of some minutes, the cups were brought round, containing weak black tea, exquisite in flavour, but marvellously small in quantity.  There appeared no milk, but plenty of sugar-candy.  Some sweet sherbet was next handed round, very slightly acid, but so deliciously cool, that we appealed frequently to the vase or huge jar from which it was poured, to the great delight of the sultan, who assured us that this was the genuine sherbet described by the Persian poets.  It was mixed, he told us, by a true believer, who had made more than one pilgrimage to Mecca.

At the upper end of the apartment, in a deep recess, partly hid from our view by a rich festoon of shawl drapery, we could just discover the sultan’s bed, flanked by large mirrors, beyond which, in an adjacent chamber, was probably stowed away the sultan’s most favoured wife.  But all this department of the establishment was thrown into such deep shade, that we could see none of the ladies, nor any of his highness’s progeny, except one little boy, whom he introduced to us at supper.  He appeared to be about five or six years old, very like his papa in miniature, rigged with turban and robes of cloth of gold.  At first, the little fellow looked somewhat startled; but he soon recovered his dignity, and sat on our knees, without much apprehension of being swallowed up.

Both the upper corners of the room were screened off by white curtains, eight or ten feet high, so as to form smaller chambers.  One of these served the purpose of a pantry, or subsidiary kitchen, at least we observed the dishes issuing from it, and thought we could distinguish the well-known sound of the cook’s angry reproaches—­a note which, like that of muttering thunder, is nearly the same in every climate.  The other corner we soon made out to be a sort of temporary nook, from which the ladies of the palace and the young sultans and sultanas might spy the strangers.  This we ascertained from seeing sundry very pretty faces thrust out occasionally between the folds of the curtain, and by the sound of many an ill-suppressed giggle amongst the peeping damsels.