In most of the towns, excitement prevailed in organising battalions for the seat of war. The Turks are essentially a warlike nation, and fight for their country without a murmur, in the face of such disadvantages as bad food and long arrears of pay.
We have not before spoken of a new travelling companion who took Osman’s place—one Mohammed by name, who was as faithful as the Prophet himself. Osman turned out a very bad bargain. His fidelity to the Effendi’s purse became at last greater even than his love of prayer; and his keen eye after an exorbitant percentage was worthy of a London usurer. Remonstrance was in vain. At last he was dismissed, having been caught thieving, and Mohammed reigned in his stead, to the comfort of all parties. He was a soldier and a mountaineer, brave and hardy on land, but a coward at sea. He loved his lord the Effendi, and dearly loved his ‘brother’ Radford’s cooking. His ‘brother’s’ opinion of him at parting was characteristic: ‘That Mohammed was not such a bad chap after all, sir. Them Turks have stomachs, and like filling them they do; but they have something in their hearts as well.’ And so Mohammed shewed—for in illness he was a kind nurse, and faithful to his ‘lord’s’ interests throughout. On one occasion, Mohammed complained of rheumatism, and Radford applied a mustard paper. What a sensation it created among the Kurd villagers—some of whom were spectators of course—when they heard that the wet paper had produced the fire under which Mohammed lay writhing and groaning. It was a miracle; and forthwith the Effendi was hailed everywhere as a hakim or doctor, and his fame spread from place to place on the road. A Persian asked, and even admitted him into his harem, to prescribe for his pretty wife, to whom he gave small doses of quinine. Another time a Kurd asked him to cure his toothache; but mustard papers were powerless here; so Radford was called in consultation, and said it ought to come out. But there were no instruments at hand, and the operation had to be declined. ‘Give me something for my stomach then,’ asked the Kurd. Three pills were then handed to him, which he chewed deliberately, declaring, when he had finished them, his tooth was better!
At one place, after passing over a narrow wooden bridge that spanned the Euphrates—only forty yards wide at this point—the travellers crossed the Hasta Dagh (mountain); presently they came to a glacier, the frozen surface of which extended a hundred yards, the decline being steeper than the roof of an average English house. ‘Should it be taken?’ was the question asked with much consternation, and decided in the affirmative. The guide rode his horse to the glacier. The poor animal trembled when it reached the brink; but a reminder from Mohammed’s whip hastened the poor brute’s decision, and he stretched his forelegs over the declivity, almost touching the slippery surface with his girth. Another crack from Mohammed, and horse and guide were whirling down the glacier, and only pulled up at last by finding themselves buried in a snowdrift six feet deep. When his turn came, Captain Burnaby describes the sensation as if he were ‘waltzing madly down the slippery surface.’ To witness the descent of the others was something fearful; though not so dangerous as it appeared. When Radford emerged from his snowy burial, he exclaimed: ‘I never thought as how a horse could skate before. It was more than sliding, that it was; a cutting a figure of eight all down the roof of a house.’
Our travellers at last reached Batoum, where they parted from Mohammed, and where we must part from them, not without sincere regret. After this, they took ship across the Black Sea to Constantinople, and all adventures were over. We shall not quickly forget the two thousand miles of ground so graphically described, and over a portion of which we have travelled with them in the saddle. Nor will the reader of Captain Burnaby’s volume of travels throughout the land of the Osmanli, easily forget the scenes and incidents and people so graphically depicted. We omit with regret many good stories we should like to have told; but space is inexorable. To those who are inclined to echo this regret, we can only say: ‘Do as we have done, and take the ride with Burnaby for yourselves.’
WEDDING EXTRAVAGANCES.
The following sensible observations on the wastefulness which often takes place on marriage occasions, are from the pen of Camilla Crosland—our old and esteemed contributor originally known as Camilla Toulmin. They appear in Social Notes, a weekly periodical not unlike our own, edited by Mr S. C. Hall, and which has our best wishes for its success.
‘How many people there are who in fine clothes and with smiling faces “assist” at a modern wedding, yet in their heart of hearts think the profuse outlay and the general festive arrangements usual on the occasion a piece of tiresome folly! Few, however, like to make a dead set against time-honoured customs, unless strong personal feelings or personal interests are concerned.
‘Marriage may certainly lay claim to being the most important event in life, and as such there must ever be solemnity associated with it. In fact our Prayer-book speaks of the solemnisation of matrimony. Of course it is right that there should be a certain publicity attached to every marriage ceremony, and probably in this fact originated the custom of inviting friends to be present on the occasion, till by degrees wedding-parties have become more and more crowded, and now it is a common thing for a vast assembly to congregate at them. Of course where there is great wealth, and people love this sort of display, and bride and bridegroom have nerve for it, and are, moreover, happy in possessing “troops of friends,” there is no reason why money should not circulate—the confectioner revel in chefs-d’œuvre, the florist realise a week’s ordinary income in bouquets, and the milliner make her mint of money by rich toilets. But a vice of the English middle class is to ape the rank above it; and I confess it has often to me seemed pitiable to know at what a cost of after self-denial a showy wedding has taken place.
‘It is desirable that when two young people, suitable in age, character, station, are warmly attached, they should be married as soon as prudence permits. Let us take, for instance, the case of an accomplished but portionless young lady, the eldest of several daughters, who has been accustomed to utilise her talents in the home circle. She has been engaged, say four years, to a gentleman in a government office with a slowly rising salary. He is about thirty, she five or six and twenty. He has saved enough money to furnish a pretty little suburban dwelling, and she will be provided by her father with a modest trousseau, and they think it now high time to “settle.” Their income, even including a fatherly allowance for pin-money, will be considerably less than five hundred pounds per annum, and they, being good arithmeticians, know they must live quietly, visit and entertain only in a homely, friendly manner, and neither go to nor give formal parties. Of what use is the costly white silk bridal dress, which in all human probability will never in its original state be worn again? It will, of course, be laid up carefully, and looked at occasionally with tender sentimental interest; but by-and-by, in a year or two, it will seem old-fashioned, and most probably be picked to pieces and dyed some serviceable colour. Then there were probably at least four bride’s-maids, each to be presented with a jewelled souvenir by the not too affluent bridegroom, and the costly wedding-breakfast to be provided by the father. One mischief of the thing being that the whole arrangement becomes a precedent, so that the next sister who marries would seem slighted if she were to have a less stylish wedding.