CHAPTER XV.The Kizil Ermak—No bridge in the neighbourhood—How to cross the river—The current—Can my brother swim?—How to embark the horses—Osman's expostulation—Bandaging the horse's eyes—Yakshagan—Fresh post-horses—An uncivil official—Madeh—Silver-mines—Water in the pits—Proper machinery wanted—Engineers required—Kowakoli—Vines—How to preserve grapes—Sugar very dear—A farmer—The Angora famine—The late Sultan—Russian assessors—We do not wish to be tortured to change our religion—Allah is always on the side of justice—Sekili—The pace of aRahvan—Marble hovels—Hospitality—Foreign settlers—A Kurdish encampment—The tax-collectors—The wealth of the Kurdish Sheiks—The Delidsche Ermak—Fording the river—A district abounding in salt—Turkoman girls—The many languages spoken in Anatolia—A lunch under difficulties.We rode across a low ridge of mountains, rocks which looked like iron ore lying about in all directions, and presently arrived at the Kizil Ermak, a broad and rapid stream which runsinto the Black Sea, about fifty miles S.E. of Sinope. The distance across the river was at least one hundred yards, the left bank being very precipitous. The depth of the water, owing to the recent rains, was not less than seven feet. There is no bridge in the neighbourhood, the nearest being twenty-four miles higher up the river; I was curious to learn how we should reach the other shore. The guide soon solved the problem. Riding about half a mile along the bank, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. In a few minutes the sound was answered from the opposite side of the river. Six men appeared in sight. Descending the bank, they dragged a triangular-shaped barge from some rushes, and, getting into it, began to pull with all their might in our direction. The current was very swift, the starting-point was nearly half a mile beyond us; but notwithstanding this, the oarsmen overshot their mark. We had to lead our horses some little distance before we reached the boat.It was a queer sort of a craft, certainly not more than twenty-five feet long, and about sixteen in its widest part. Its sides were two feet above the water: the men could not approach the bank nearer than twenty yards. The bottom wasmuddy. Our horses would have to walk through the mud to the boat, and then jump over the bulwarks.There were altogether eight horses, my own four, three belonging to the post, and the animal the guide rode, a brute which kicked, and already had slightly lamed my grey."I shall be drowned," said Osman plaintively, "I know I shall! Can my brother swim?" pointing to Radford."What does he say, sir?" inquired my English servant."He wants to know if you can save him if he falls into the water.""Save him? no, sir. I cannot swim a stroke. I wonder what our engineers at Aldershot would say if they had to get us over in such a craft as this? It is wuss than a pontoon!"The boatmen wanted to take four horses across at a time; a veto was put upon this proposal on account of the guide's horse; it was determined that he should go alone. Taking the saddle off my own animal, I led him into the water; on reaching the boat I climbed into it, and tried to make the horse follow. This was by no means an easy task, he had sunk at least a foot into the mud, and evidently did not fancy the leap into the bark.Three of the boatmen now got into the river. One of them, seizing my horse's tail, twisted it violently, the others poked him from behind with their oars. Osman all this time was expostulating with the animal from the bank."Dear horse, jump in! You shall have as much barley as you can eat this evening."This argument not having any effect upon the horse, Osman's language waxed stronger, and he heaped numerous curses upon the animal's ancestry."Drat you!" said Radford at last; "you are always a-talking when there is something to do. Go and help, can't you?" Suiting the action to the word, he gave a push to the noisy Turk, which nearly upset him into the water.At length, and by the exertions of all our party, my horse was persuaded to make an effort. Rearing himself up, he placed his two fore-feet in the boat. A chorus of oaths and ejaculations—the hind-legs followed. Once safely in, I bandaged his eyes. The other horses, seeing that one of their number was embarked, followed without much difficulty.We floated down the stream for some distance, and at a great speed, before the boatmen could get any command over their craft, which whirledround as if in a whirlpool. Fortunately the horses were all blindfolded, and could not see the water. At last we reached the opposite bank, having descended the stream for more than a mile from our starting-point. So much time was lost in getting the other horses over, that night was upon us before we reached our destination, Yakshagan, a large village with two hundred houses. It was only fourteen miles from Asra Yuzgat, though, owing to the river, we had employed from sunrise to sunset in the journey.At Yakshagan it was necessary to hire fresh post-horses. The official at the station was very uncivil, and declared that he would not supply me with any unless I paid for three horses from Angora. I had only engaged two, however, the man with them had chosen to bring a third animal, instead of riding on one of the baggage horses. At last the difficulty was settled by the guide, who was known to the postmaster, saying that he would be responsible for the amount; whilst I agreed to refer the matter to the authorities at Yuzgat, and abide by their decision.I started rather late, in consequence of the altercation. After a five hours' ride along a good road and through a beautiful country, we arrived at Madeh. Here there are several silver-mineswhich, till very lately, have been worked by the Turks. I was informed that water has recently found its way into the pits. In consequence of this the miners had abandoned them."It is a great pity," said an old Turk, an inhabitant of the village. "With proper machinery it would be easy to pump out the water, and these mines abound in silver.""We have got nothing but paper money in Anatolia," he added sorrowfully, "all this rich metal lies buried beneath our feet."It surprises a traveller to find that the Turks make so little use of their mines. In the course of my ride from Angora I had passed through a country apparently abounding in iron, and with many traces of coal. At Madeh there is silver, whilst copper is also found in the immediate neighbourhood. With intelligent engineers to explore the mineral wealth of Anatolia, Turkey would be able not only to pay the interest of her debt, but would speedily become one of the richest countries in the world.From Madeh we continued the march to Kowakoli. The country on each side of the road is covered with vines. The grapes in this part of Turkey are very large. The inhabitants preserve the fruit throughout the winter by hangingit up in cellars. The atmosphere is dry; unless the temperature falls much below zero, and the grapes freeze, they can be kept till the early spring. There is no wine made in the neighbourhood. The Armenians, who in other parts of Anatolia make large sums of money by distilling spirits, here neglect this branch of industry. The grapes are either eaten, or the unfermented juice is kept to sweeten pastry, for sugar is very dear, and costs more than a shilling the pound. This price is beyond the means of not only the poorer, but even of the wealthier inhabitants of the district. In consequence of this they drink their coffee without sweetening it, and look upon a present of a few pounds of sugar as a donation worthy of a sultan's generosity.I was hospitably entertained by an old farmer. He bewailed the disasters caused by the Angora famine, which had been felt throughout all this district. The road from Angora had been blocked by snow for three months and a half. His cattle all died from starvation, his goats had also perished. The late Sultan, Abdul Aziz, had sent large sums of money and food to the suffering people; but the roads were impassable, and the provisions could not reach their destination. Many poor people had died of hunger with cartloadsof corn and barley only a few miles from their doors.My host had one son, a lad about sixteen years of age. The boy regretted that he was not old enough to join the sultan's forces."Your time will come soon enough," observed his parent."He does not know what war is like," added the farmer sorrowfully. "A great many men have gone to Servia from this neighbourhood, and several have been killed. God grant, if my boy should have to go, that he may return to his old father.""Is there much enthusiasm here for the war?" I inquired."Immense," replied the farmer; "the people feel that it is a question not only of religion but also of property. We landlords should not like to have Russian assessors grinding us down to the last piastre. We do not wish to be tortured to change our religion, and we do not want to be made soldiers against our will.""But you are all soldiers now," I remarked."Yes, because it is the time of war, and it is a struggle for our very existence. When the fighting is over, our young men will return to their homesteads, and gladden their families once more.""Do you think that you shall be able to withstand your foe?""Allah is always on the side of justice, and He will give us the victory," rejoined the old man proudly. "Our land shall drink our blood ere we give up one foot of soil to the invader."We now rode towards Sekili, a village about twenty-seven miles from our sleeping quarters.Presently my grey horse began to walk lame. He had been kicked by the guide's animal on the previous day. My weight was too much for the poor little brute. I resolved to change horses with Osman, who was much lighter than myself. Calling the Turk to my side, I desired him to dismount, and then mounted the ambling steed. The pace of a Rahvan, or ambling horse, is an easy one for the rider; and the animal can get over the ground at the rate of about five miles an hour; the ordinary walk of the small Turkish horses being not much above three.We passed by some hovels. Their walls were built of marble; the roofs were made of beams covered with mud; the pure white rock presenting a striking contrast to its filthy surroundings. Marble abounds in this neighbourhood. Large blocks were lying on all sides of us, and along our path. Some ruins in the vicinityshowed that hundreds of years ago the inhabitants of this part of Anatolia were able to utilize their quarries.Poor Turkey, she has descended the steps of civilization, and not ascended them like European nations.However, though mud hovels have replaced the marble palaces of the Turk's ancestors, the Turks themselves remain unchanged. Hospitality—their great virtue—is as rife in 1877 as in the days of Mohammed II. No matter where an Englishman may ask for shelter, he will never find a Mohammedan who will deny him admittance.We left behind us some mountains of slate, and rode over rich soil, which had been left fallow for miles around."There are not inhabitants enough to cultivate the land," was the guide's answer to a question from me about the subject.He was doubtless right. Asia Minor, like Spain, needs a threefold population to develop her natural wealth. Let foreign settlers go to Anatolia. Let them make railways throughout the country, it could supply the whole of Great Britain with corn, and the mines of coal and of other minerals would prove a source of immense wealth to the inhabitants.Later in the day we passed a Kurdish encampment. The Kurds all lived in circular black tents, and some women, with unveiled faces, rushed outside the dwellings to see the strangers pass.The Turkish authorities have great difficulty in collecting the taxes from this nomad race. Whenever the Kurds expect a visit from the tax-collector, they pack up their chattels and migrate to the mountains. Here they can place the Turkish officer at defiance, and only return to the plains when their spies have announced the enemy's departure. A few years ago the wealth of the Kurdish sheiks was very considerable; many of them owned twenty, and even thirty thousand sheep, besides large droves of horses, and numerous herds of cattle. The famine, however, which devastated the province, was as disastrous for the Kurds as for the Turks. It has left them in a wretched state of poverty.The Delidsche Ermak, a tributary of the Kizil Ermak, crossed our path. There was no bridge, and we had some difficulty in finding a ford. At last the marks of some horses' hoofs showed our guide the exact spot: riding into the stream—here about fifty yards wide—and with the water up to his horse's girths, he piloted usover in safety. The bottom of the river is firm. I was informed that the stream becomes very shallow during the summer months; the inhabitants can then cross it with their ox-carts.The village of Sekili is made up of twenty mud hovels. Our accommodation for the night was not of a luxurious kind. But after a long and tiring march a man speedily reconciles himself to circumstances. A fire was lit. Two old hens were stewing in the pot. A kettle full of tea simmered on the fire; and with a pipe after dinner, things looked a little brighter than at first. We next traversed a district abounding with salt. The soil sparkled in the sun. The crystal substance was visible for a considerable distance. Presently some Turkoman girls, with high, picturesque head-dresses, rode by us at a gallop: their merry laughter rang in the air as they passed. Soon afterward we came to their village, the habitations being nothing more or less than a few holes in the side of a hill. The Turkomans pronounce Turkish rather differently to the Turks. At first I had some little difficulty in making myself understood. Indeed, a man must be a polyglot to know all the languages spoken in Anatolia. Armenian, Greek, Circassian, Kurdish, Tartar, Persian, Georgian, and Arabic,besides Turkish, are heard within a radius of one hundred miles. The different sounds in these languages are very puzzling to a stranger who is trying to perfect himself in Turkish.Some Turkomans, dressed in white tunics, broad red trousers, and with grey sashes round their waists, were sitting idly at the entrance to their burrows. A woman, in a crimson dressing-gown, and a few girls, with naught on save long white shifts, and caps, were busily engaged in drawing water from a neighbouring well. Some goats, which had descended the hill, were feeding on the roofs of the houses.We entered one of the dwellings, but so many fleas were hopping about that I determined to eat my lunch in the open air. The proprietor of the hovel was very much surprised at our preferring the cold outside to the shelter of his domicile."My Effendi does not like fleas," said Osman."There are not many here!" said the proprietor. "It does not do to be particular. In Sekili," he continued, "fleas abound, the Effendi ought to be accustomed to them by this time.""What does he say, sir?" asked Radford, as Osman gradually explained the Turkoman's remarks to me."Say! He says that you ought to be accustomed to fleas by this time.""Accustomed, sir? No, but they are getting accustomed to me. Haldershot is a joke to this here Turkey so far as fleas are concerned."Presently my servant continued,—"These Turks, sir, ain't got no decent tobacco, why a pipeful of cavendish, or good bird's hi, is worth all the hay they smoke. No wonder people in England abuse the Turks—and quite right too. Men who might grow shag tobacco, and prefer growing hay tobacco, can't be of much account."
The Kizil Ermak—No bridge in the neighbourhood—How to cross the river—The current—Can my brother swim?—How to embark the horses—Osman's expostulation—Bandaging the horse's eyes—Yakshagan—Fresh post-horses—An uncivil official—Madeh—Silver-mines—Water in the pits—Proper machinery wanted—Engineers required—Kowakoli—Vines—How to preserve grapes—Sugar very dear—A farmer—The Angora famine—The late Sultan—Russian assessors—We do not wish to be tortured to change our religion—Allah is always on the side of justice—Sekili—The pace of aRahvan—Marble hovels—Hospitality—Foreign settlers—A Kurdish encampment—The tax-collectors—The wealth of the Kurdish Sheiks—The Delidsche Ermak—Fording the river—A district abounding in salt—Turkoman girls—The many languages spoken in Anatolia—A lunch under difficulties.
We rode across a low ridge of mountains, rocks which looked like iron ore lying about in all directions, and presently arrived at the Kizil Ermak, a broad and rapid stream which runsinto the Black Sea, about fifty miles S.E. of Sinope. The distance across the river was at least one hundred yards, the left bank being very precipitous. The depth of the water, owing to the recent rains, was not less than seven feet. There is no bridge in the neighbourhood, the nearest being twenty-four miles higher up the river; I was curious to learn how we should reach the other shore. The guide soon solved the problem. Riding about half a mile along the bank, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. In a few minutes the sound was answered from the opposite side of the river. Six men appeared in sight. Descending the bank, they dragged a triangular-shaped barge from some rushes, and, getting into it, began to pull with all their might in our direction. The current was very swift, the starting-point was nearly half a mile beyond us; but notwithstanding this, the oarsmen overshot their mark. We had to lead our horses some little distance before we reached the boat.
It was a queer sort of a craft, certainly not more than twenty-five feet long, and about sixteen in its widest part. Its sides were two feet above the water: the men could not approach the bank nearer than twenty yards. The bottom wasmuddy. Our horses would have to walk through the mud to the boat, and then jump over the bulwarks.
There were altogether eight horses, my own four, three belonging to the post, and the animal the guide rode, a brute which kicked, and already had slightly lamed my grey.
"I shall be drowned," said Osman plaintively, "I know I shall! Can my brother swim?" pointing to Radford.
"What does he say, sir?" inquired my English servant.
"He wants to know if you can save him if he falls into the water."
"Save him? no, sir. I cannot swim a stroke. I wonder what our engineers at Aldershot would say if they had to get us over in such a craft as this? It is wuss than a pontoon!"
The boatmen wanted to take four horses across at a time; a veto was put upon this proposal on account of the guide's horse; it was determined that he should go alone. Taking the saddle off my own animal, I led him into the water; on reaching the boat I climbed into it, and tried to make the horse follow. This was by no means an easy task, he had sunk at least a foot into the mud, and evidently did not fancy the leap into the bark.Three of the boatmen now got into the river. One of them, seizing my horse's tail, twisted it violently, the others poked him from behind with their oars. Osman all this time was expostulating with the animal from the bank.
"Dear horse, jump in! You shall have as much barley as you can eat this evening."
This argument not having any effect upon the horse, Osman's language waxed stronger, and he heaped numerous curses upon the animal's ancestry.
"Drat you!" said Radford at last; "you are always a-talking when there is something to do. Go and help, can't you?" Suiting the action to the word, he gave a push to the noisy Turk, which nearly upset him into the water.
At length, and by the exertions of all our party, my horse was persuaded to make an effort. Rearing himself up, he placed his two fore-feet in the boat. A chorus of oaths and ejaculations—the hind-legs followed. Once safely in, I bandaged his eyes. The other horses, seeing that one of their number was embarked, followed without much difficulty.
We floated down the stream for some distance, and at a great speed, before the boatmen could get any command over their craft, which whirledround as if in a whirlpool. Fortunately the horses were all blindfolded, and could not see the water. At last we reached the opposite bank, having descended the stream for more than a mile from our starting-point. So much time was lost in getting the other horses over, that night was upon us before we reached our destination, Yakshagan, a large village with two hundred houses. It was only fourteen miles from Asra Yuzgat, though, owing to the river, we had employed from sunrise to sunset in the journey.
At Yakshagan it was necessary to hire fresh post-horses. The official at the station was very uncivil, and declared that he would not supply me with any unless I paid for three horses from Angora. I had only engaged two, however, the man with them had chosen to bring a third animal, instead of riding on one of the baggage horses. At last the difficulty was settled by the guide, who was known to the postmaster, saying that he would be responsible for the amount; whilst I agreed to refer the matter to the authorities at Yuzgat, and abide by their decision.
I started rather late, in consequence of the altercation. After a five hours' ride along a good road and through a beautiful country, we arrived at Madeh. Here there are several silver-mineswhich, till very lately, have been worked by the Turks. I was informed that water has recently found its way into the pits. In consequence of this the miners had abandoned them.
"It is a great pity," said an old Turk, an inhabitant of the village. "With proper machinery it would be easy to pump out the water, and these mines abound in silver."
"We have got nothing but paper money in Anatolia," he added sorrowfully, "all this rich metal lies buried beneath our feet."
It surprises a traveller to find that the Turks make so little use of their mines. In the course of my ride from Angora I had passed through a country apparently abounding in iron, and with many traces of coal. At Madeh there is silver, whilst copper is also found in the immediate neighbourhood. With intelligent engineers to explore the mineral wealth of Anatolia, Turkey would be able not only to pay the interest of her debt, but would speedily become one of the richest countries in the world.
From Madeh we continued the march to Kowakoli. The country on each side of the road is covered with vines. The grapes in this part of Turkey are very large. The inhabitants preserve the fruit throughout the winter by hangingit up in cellars. The atmosphere is dry; unless the temperature falls much below zero, and the grapes freeze, they can be kept till the early spring. There is no wine made in the neighbourhood. The Armenians, who in other parts of Anatolia make large sums of money by distilling spirits, here neglect this branch of industry. The grapes are either eaten, or the unfermented juice is kept to sweeten pastry, for sugar is very dear, and costs more than a shilling the pound. This price is beyond the means of not only the poorer, but even of the wealthier inhabitants of the district. In consequence of this they drink their coffee without sweetening it, and look upon a present of a few pounds of sugar as a donation worthy of a sultan's generosity.
I was hospitably entertained by an old farmer. He bewailed the disasters caused by the Angora famine, which had been felt throughout all this district. The road from Angora had been blocked by snow for three months and a half. His cattle all died from starvation, his goats had also perished. The late Sultan, Abdul Aziz, had sent large sums of money and food to the suffering people; but the roads were impassable, and the provisions could not reach their destination. Many poor people had died of hunger with cartloadsof corn and barley only a few miles from their doors.
My host had one son, a lad about sixteen years of age. The boy regretted that he was not old enough to join the sultan's forces.
"Your time will come soon enough," observed his parent.
"He does not know what war is like," added the farmer sorrowfully. "A great many men have gone to Servia from this neighbourhood, and several have been killed. God grant, if my boy should have to go, that he may return to his old father."
"Is there much enthusiasm here for the war?" I inquired.
"Immense," replied the farmer; "the people feel that it is a question not only of religion but also of property. We landlords should not like to have Russian assessors grinding us down to the last piastre. We do not wish to be tortured to change our religion, and we do not want to be made soldiers against our will."
"But you are all soldiers now," I remarked.
"Yes, because it is the time of war, and it is a struggle for our very existence. When the fighting is over, our young men will return to their homesteads, and gladden their families once more."
"Do you think that you shall be able to withstand your foe?"
"Allah is always on the side of justice, and He will give us the victory," rejoined the old man proudly. "Our land shall drink our blood ere we give up one foot of soil to the invader."
We now rode towards Sekili, a village about twenty-seven miles from our sleeping quarters.
Presently my grey horse began to walk lame. He had been kicked by the guide's animal on the previous day. My weight was too much for the poor little brute. I resolved to change horses with Osman, who was much lighter than myself. Calling the Turk to my side, I desired him to dismount, and then mounted the ambling steed. The pace of a Rahvan, or ambling horse, is an easy one for the rider; and the animal can get over the ground at the rate of about five miles an hour; the ordinary walk of the small Turkish horses being not much above three.
We passed by some hovels. Their walls were built of marble; the roofs were made of beams covered with mud; the pure white rock presenting a striking contrast to its filthy surroundings. Marble abounds in this neighbourhood. Large blocks were lying on all sides of us, and along our path. Some ruins in the vicinityshowed that hundreds of years ago the inhabitants of this part of Anatolia were able to utilize their quarries.
Poor Turkey, she has descended the steps of civilization, and not ascended them like European nations.
However, though mud hovels have replaced the marble palaces of the Turk's ancestors, the Turks themselves remain unchanged. Hospitality—their great virtue—is as rife in 1877 as in the days of Mohammed II. No matter where an Englishman may ask for shelter, he will never find a Mohammedan who will deny him admittance.
We left behind us some mountains of slate, and rode over rich soil, which had been left fallow for miles around.
"There are not inhabitants enough to cultivate the land," was the guide's answer to a question from me about the subject.
He was doubtless right. Asia Minor, like Spain, needs a threefold population to develop her natural wealth. Let foreign settlers go to Anatolia. Let them make railways throughout the country, it could supply the whole of Great Britain with corn, and the mines of coal and of other minerals would prove a source of immense wealth to the inhabitants.
Later in the day we passed a Kurdish encampment. The Kurds all lived in circular black tents, and some women, with unveiled faces, rushed outside the dwellings to see the strangers pass.
The Turkish authorities have great difficulty in collecting the taxes from this nomad race. Whenever the Kurds expect a visit from the tax-collector, they pack up their chattels and migrate to the mountains. Here they can place the Turkish officer at defiance, and only return to the plains when their spies have announced the enemy's departure. A few years ago the wealth of the Kurdish sheiks was very considerable; many of them owned twenty, and even thirty thousand sheep, besides large droves of horses, and numerous herds of cattle. The famine, however, which devastated the province, was as disastrous for the Kurds as for the Turks. It has left them in a wretched state of poverty.
The Delidsche Ermak, a tributary of the Kizil Ermak, crossed our path. There was no bridge, and we had some difficulty in finding a ford. At last the marks of some horses' hoofs showed our guide the exact spot: riding into the stream—here about fifty yards wide—and with the water up to his horse's girths, he piloted usover in safety. The bottom of the river is firm. I was informed that the stream becomes very shallow during the summer months; the inhabitants can then cross it with their ox-carts.
The village of Sekili is made up of twenty mud hovels. Our accommodation for the night was not of a luxurious kind. But after a long and tiring march a man speedily reconciles himself to circumstances. A fire was lit. Two old hens were stewing in the pot. A kettle full of tea simmered on the fire; and with a pipe after dinner, things looked a little brighter than at first. We next traversed a district abounding with salt. The soil sparkled in the sun. The crystal substance was visible for a considerable distance. Presently some Turkoman girls, with high, picturesque head-dresses, rode by us at a gallop: their merry laughter rang in the air as they passed. Soon afterward we came to their village, the habitations being nothing more or less than a few holes in the side of a hill. The Turkomans pronounce Turkish rather differently to the Turks. At first I had some little difficulty in making myself understood. Indeed, a man must be a polyglot to know all the languages spoken in Anatolia. Armenian, Greek, Circassian, Kurdish, Tartar, Persian, Georgian, and Arabic,besides Turkish, are heard within a radius of one hundred miles. The different sounds in these languages are very puzzling to a stranger who is trying to perfect himself in Turkish.
Some Turkomans, dressed in white tunics, broad red trousers, and with grey sashes round their waists, were sitting idly at the entrance to their burrows. A woman, in a crimson dressing-gown, and a few girls, with naught on save long white shifts, and caps, were busily engaged in drawing water from a neighbouring well. Some goats, which had descended the hill, were feeding on the roofs of the houses.
We entered one of the dwellings, but so many fleas were hopping about that I determined to eat my lunch in the open air. The proprietor of the hovel was very much surprised at our preferring the cold outside to the shelter of his domicile.
"My Effendi does not like fleas," said Osman.
"There are not many here!" said the proprietor. "It does not do to be particular. In Sekili," he continued, "fleas abound, the Effendi ought to be accustomed to them by this time."
"What does he say, sir?" asked Radford, as Osman gradually explained the Turkoman's remarks to me.
"Say! He says that you ought to be accustomed to fleas by this time."
"Accustomed, sir? No, but they are getting accustomed to me. Haldershot is a joke to this here Turkey so far as fleas are concerned."
Presently my servant continued,—
"These Turks, sir, ain't got no decent tobacco, why a pipeful of cavendish, or good bird's hi, is worth all the hay they smoke. No wonder people in England abuse the Turks—and quite right too. Men who might grow shag tobacco, and prefer growing hay tobacco, can't be of much account."