"But I have plenty of servants, take one of mine; he will accompany you throughout your journey, and then will return to me," would be the answer.
People in this country who abuse the Turkish nation, and accuse them of every vice under the sun, would do well to leave off writing pamphlets and travel a little in Anatolia. There is an old saying that "the devil is not so black as he is painted," and in many things writers who call themselves Christians might well take a lesson from the Turks in Asia Minor.
CHAPTER XIV.
We leave Angora—The Effendi wants a turkey—A very old cock—The cooking-pot—An Armenian woman on horseback—Baggage upset in the river—Cartridges in the water—Osman castigating the delinquent—Delayed on the road—Asra Yuzgat—How the inhabitants build their houses—The Caimacan—His house—His servants undress him—He goes to bed—All the cartridges spoiled.
My host was up at daybreak to see me off.
"Come and see me in England," I said.
"If Allah pleases, I will," was my friend's reply, and I only hope that I may have the opportunity of returning Suleiman Effendi's hospitality.
The road was hard and good for a few miles, we rode for some time by the Ayash river.
After marching for about five hours, we came to a small farm-house. It was on the opposite bank of the river to ourselves; but there was a ford, and as there was no wood on our side of the stream, I determined to cross and halt an hour for lunch. The house belonged to an Armenian. It was filthily dirty. Vermin could be seen crawling in all directions on the rugs. In consequence of this, I resolved to make our fire outside, and lunch in the open air. There were some turkeys in the farm-yard, and the proprietor coming up, I desired Osman to purchase one of the birds.
"The Effendi wants a turkey," said Osman to the farmer.