"Well, and if the Russians come here, as it is quite possible they may, what shall you do then? For you would, in that case, have a very fair chance of being hanged."
"It would be a dreadful thing, your excellency, but I must take the risk. I would sooner be hanged than go back."
"But things have improved in Russia since your time."
"A little," replied the man. "Little by little we advance in Russia. It is a nice country for the rich, but it is a dreadful country for the poor!"
"Is Turkey better?"
"Yes, your excellency, no one is beaten here; when a man is hungry, no Turk will ever refuse him a mouthful of food—that is, if he has one for himself. I hope my brothers will not come here," continued the man, pointing presumably in the direction of the Caucasus. "Allah has given our father the Tzar much land; why does he want more?" and, after putting some more red-hot charcoal in the bowls of our pipes, the Moujik left the room.
My host's frequent journeys to Erzeroum, where he had occasionally met Europeans, had given him a taste for the civilized way of eating a dinner. He pointed with some pride to his knives and forks. They had been brought to Erzeroum from the Caucasus, and were a mixture of silver, lead, and gold—the three metals being blended together by the Circassian artificers, and then formed into the articles in question.
The Caimacan was also supplied with a knife and fork; however, this gentleman did not seem to understand the use of his plate, and ate out of the dish.
"Which do you like the best—to eat with a knife and fork, or with your fingers?" I inquired.
"With my fingers," replied the Caimacan. "It is so much cleaner," he continued. "I first wash my hands, and then put them into the dish; but I do not clean my own fork—that is the duty of the servant, who, perhaps, is an idle fellow. Besides this, who knows how many dirty mouths this fork has been stuck into before I put it in mine?"