Profoundest silence lay over all Turkey like a pall of death. Not a train ran. Not a boat sailed. Not an airplane flew. Not a factory hummed. Not a siren shrieked, nor a whistle blew. Men neither toiled nor did they sweat. In the cities the streets were deserted, except for a privileged few. Street cars did not run, shops were closed, automobiles were garaged. From Constantinople at the Golden Horn, along the length of the Bosporus, flanked by its minarets and white domes, diurnal scene of a thousand scurrying ships, all...
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