The country which we next traversed was entirely uncultivated, although it would have well repaid a farmer. This, however, is the case with millions of acres in Turkey. There are no labourers. The country is depopulated to the last degree, and land which might produce wheat enough for the whole of Great Britain is left fallow.
Presently we came to an old Khan. It had been built by a former sultan, as a refuge for travellers during the winter. At this season of the year the ground is sometimes covered with snow for several weeks in succession, and travelling is very dangerous. Two soldiers were the sole tenants of the building. Whilst I was performing my ablutions in the open air, one of them came to me and asked for a little tea. His comrade was ill, and tea he thought would be good for him. I went to look at the invalid. He was lying on a dirty mattress, and was shivering violently. It was clearly a case of fever, so taking some quinine from my medicine-chest, I administered a dose, and directed his comrade to procure a clean bed for the sufferer. The sick man was very grateful. Eagerly seizing my hand, he kissed it.
"What countryman are you?"
"I am English."
"Your religion is not that of Islam?"
"No."
"What are you?"
"I am a Protestant."
"Protestant," repeated the poor fellow, "I shall remember that."
"A Christian," he continued, "even if he had the medicine, would have let me die like a dog."