"Well, if you will drink so much," said the doctor, "you ought not to expect to feel well."
"Spirits," said the fat Turk; "I like spirits—they refresh my stomach, and I become cheerful. Send me some medicine," he added.
"There is no good treating these Turks," said the doctor to me, in Italian. "They mix up everything together, wine, spirits, physic, &c., and then expect to get well. If they would only carry out their prophet's injunctions, and leave off drinking wine, they would enjoy much better health."
"Did you ever hear the story of the prophet and the old women in Mecca?" said one of the guests who was listening to the conversation.
"No, what is it?"
"Well," observed the visitor, "there is a tradition that one day an old woman came to the Prophet and said, 'Oh! only true Prophet of God, when I die, to which particular heaven shall I be sent?' The Prophet, who was continually being bothered by similar questions, and" (aside to the doctor) "whose digestion on that particular occasion was very likely out of order, replied gruffly, 'Go away, go away! There are no old women in heaven.' Upon this the aged dame left the house crying. In a short time the Prophet's domicile was surrounded by all the ancient females in Mecca. Their cries became so loud that they attracted Mahomet's attention; he went out to them. 'Oh, holy Prophet! holy prophet!' they cried. 'Well, what do you want?' 'You have said that there are no old women in heaven. Whatever shall we do?' The Prophet was not in the least nonplussed for an answer. 'Quite true,' said Mahomet, 'quite true, I said so. There are no old women in heaven; they all become young so soon as they arrive there!'"
CHAPTER XIII.
The band—Turkish melodies—Turkish music like a Turkish dinner; it is a series of surprises—Turkish etiquette at dinner—The pack-horse is lame—The people ask for many liras—The Postmaster is in bed—The chief of the police—Horse-copers in Aleppo—The fair sex in that city—A test for lovers—We burn our fingers soon enough after marriage—Domestic life in the harems in Angora—The immorality in Yuzgat—Mr. Gasparini—Turkish hospitality—Armenians dress like Turks—Christian women—Great harmony between Turks and Christians—Armenian testimony doubtful—The prison at Sivas—Hearsay evidence—A Turkish veterinary surgeon—Horse-dealers—Two pounds offered for the horse—History of the Ottoman Empire—The Bey's present—Generosity of the Turks—The devil is not so black as he is painted.
By this time the guests had consumed many cigarettes, smoked numerous Nargilehs, and drank freely of the liqueurs. The host, rising, proposed that we should adjourn to the dining-room. There we found three musicians with instruments much resembling banjos.
"We are to have some music," said the Bey, the Pacha's son, who was one of the guests. "I am afraid that it will not be much to your taste. Our melodies are very different to those which you are accustomed to hear in Europe."