One almost wishes at times that he need not live so perpetually in the heat of the fray. Driven, perhaps, by greater intelligence or stricter integrity, to some unpopular action, he might lose his halo, or at least dim its lustre, while the new country was still too unstable for any weakening of his guiding hand. There are fanatical members of the Assembly who, _bien entendu_, are far more extreme than he, whose unchecked counsels might spell disaster. I sought, indeed, for the opposition within of which we have heard so much, and found only a very small group of rather small-minded men, at present with little power. Nevertheless, foolish measures, that might prove a real menace, and were certainly false to true freedom, have been put forward and discussed. The schemes for excluding Albanians and Arabs from the Assembly, and for requiring five years’ residence in one place, hit “The Pasha” himself. Telegrams of angry protest came in from all quarters, and he soon stopped the mischief. Others, however, may prove more difficult. The opposition seem to me seeking in Nationalism—“_midi à 14 heures_,” as the French say. At present he is not only adored by those who trust him and gave up all to follow him, but respected and admired by those recently serving the Sultan, who had not the courage to believe that right must triumph and truth prevail. I believe that his personality could always dominate the Assembly at Angora, and there is unquestionably no possible foundation for the reported rivalry of Kiazim Kara Békir. They are the best of friends, each conspicuously loyal to the other, and Kiazim Kara Békir is far too proud of his leader to want his place. I foresee, however, that even his clearest instructions may sometimes be badly interpreted, and thus bring blame for what he has not done and never intended. There will be difficulties again in certain foreign relations, because the most loyal Nationalists, for whom justice and gratitude alike demand reward, will not all be so well fitted as the existing diplomats for the embassies of Europe. * * * * * Though no one could have suspected it from his manner, I learnt that my Angora host had been seriously alarmed at the prospect of receiving an Englishwoman into his household. His first impressions, however, were unexpectedly in my favour. And the ladies agreed: “You are just like our Pasha—fair hair and blue eyes. You might be his sister.” It was the highest possible compliment, the best possible passport. Mustapha Kemal found time to be no less hospitable, and often treated me to a concert of Anatolian songs with the oute (or stringed guitar) accompaniment. It was at his house I first tasted the most delicious of Turkish confections, “_poulet à la Circassienne_,” that is chicken with nut sauce. It was frequently offered to me after that; but, alas, like all things Turkish, even their “light” pastry _Bereks_, it is as fattening as it is appetising.