In contrast to this inhospitable reception of Nature's winged songsters while travelling through the land, it it pleasant to visit the bird-market, and there see venerable Turks opening their purses and buying as many of these captives as they can afford. They then throw open the prison-doors, and as the birds fly skyward with chirps of delight, the faces of the liberators grow radiant with satisfaction.
My list of games and sports is by no means exhausted, but I must close it by referring to stone-throwing, which, although not exactly a game, is in universal practice among boys, and even girls. To such an extent is it carried that dogs attacking you will often disregard a stick, but, remembering their sad experiences with stones, will take to their heels when you stoop to pick up one.
The writer himself still carries a lively impression of a fight carried on with these missiles. The scene of this skirmish, which took place when he was a boy, was near the seashore of a village on the Bosphorus, where he and one or two English boys met a squad of Turkish children. The latter took refuge behind a row of Turkish houses, and stones were thrown by both parties over the roofs. They fell fast and thick from the unseen foe, until at last one, doubtless thrown "at a venture," hit the writer on the head, and made the impression already referred to.
CHAPTER XII
DOGS
Everybody has heard of Turkish dogs, and I am sure you will consider this book incomplete if I pass them over in silence.
Their origin is shrouded in mystery, but naturalists would probably find them allied to the wolf and the jackal.
Tradition, however, has it that they originated in Tartary, and followed the Mongolians and Turks across the steppes, gorging themselves on the carnage of a thousand battle-fields, and finally settling down with the conquerors.
How much truth there is in this gruesome legend it is impossible to say, but the fact remains that wherever the Turk is found, there, too, the ubiquitous kiopek, or skilo, is seen. Nor does it seem to exist north of Vienna—that outermost ring of Turkish invasion. Dogs, very like skilos, are to be met in Hungary; you have no doubt of their existence when you cross the Danube into Servia; they are numerous in Bulgaria, and you fall into the thick of them when you reach Constantinople, where until recently they were supposed to number 80,000.