"Not pray!" I observed; "what do you mean?"
"No, Effendi; the men, I have been told, go to the churches to look at the women; the women, some to pray, but others to look at the men and show off their fine clothes the one to the other. Is not that the case in your country?" he added.
"No. Of course there are exceptions; but the English people as a rule are religiously inclined."
"Effendi," continued the officer, "I have often heard Frenchmen say that a Christian ought to be a poor man—that is, if he carried out the doctrines of his Prophet. But, my friends used to laugh and declare that their bishops and priests were rich men, and that some of the Protestant Mollahs were so wealthy that they could afford to keep carriages, eat mutton every day, and have servants to wait upon them."
"The fact of our bishops and priests eating mutton or keeping carriages does not make the Protestant religion the less true," I now observed.
"I do not know that," replied the Turk. "If I were to be taught a religion by a man who did not believe in it himself, or who did not carry out its doctrines, I should think that I was wasting my time."
The rest at Bayazid had done all our party good. The horses, which were still very emaciated on account of the long and frequent marches, had picked up a little flesh. I determined to leave Bayazid and accompany a Turkish captain who was going through Persia to Van with despatches for the governor of that town. The officer must have been sixty. He was quite grey; but, he sat his horse like a centaur, and was more enthusiastic for the war than any Turk with whom I had previously conversed.
"You may get killed," I remarked.
"Please God I shall not," was his reply; "others may die, and then there will be some promotion."