Hamdoullah Soubhi does not seem to feel so leniently towards the Greeks as M. Kemal, and is less optimistic about their return. It had been supposed, he told me, that the marked differences between the two races would balance each other; but it has not proved so, and, in his judgment, they would always clash. “Our Anatolians, so long neglected and forgotten, are as they were three thousand years ago: honourable, firmly resisting all tempest, faithful to the traditions of their race, loyal to their chosen leader in the hour of danger.” I told him it should be a lesson for us in Europe, to find a map of Asia Minor in all the humble homes; while my host, the Minister of Public Works, always brings _his_ map on to our breakfast table, to familiarise me with all the geography of these wide lands. We are now studying Diarbékir and Kurdistan, not only the wonderful old towns, but the character of their cultured inhabitants. No wonder our Lausanne delegates have so affronted Turkey by their lofty allusions to the “illiterate” Kurd! “How can our younger civilisations, however advanced in science and commerce, ever have been so self-satisfied as to suppose that we could keep down such people for ever?” “Our forty millions,” answered Hamdoullah Soubhi, “will not be so easily suppressed. Remember, our language is spoken beyond the borders of China, and our civilisation can be traced all over the world.” When I afterwards met Hamdoullah Soubhi, in a little restaurant adjoining the Assembly buildings, he was accompanied by a brother of the late Djémal Pasha. I was glad of the opportunity to tell him that, “whatever the political mistakes of their former leader, I felt that the Turks had lost a great man.” * * * * * The proprietor of this little restaurant is also a professor. He determined that, while cooks, and indeed all servants, were almost impossible to obtain, the deputies should suffer no inconvenience. Now they all either drop in at the professor’s, or ask him to send them a snack to one of the rooms of the Assembly. The ready courtesy with which he offered to contrive a meal _à l’anglaise_, for my special benefit, clearly showed he is always willing to do his best. H. Soubhi Bey’s tastes are very simple, and he detests show or bluff. “We discard superstitions, alike in life and religion,” he said; “only the solid foundations of truth can resist the storm. Our National Pact, like our faith, is solid, positive, and true.” * * * * * On one occasion I met Haïdar Bey, _député_ for Vannes, the colonel’s adviser on rugs and carpets, whom he calls “the old brigand.” He told me, however, “the fellow was not dangerous;” and I surprised him by declaring that I had fallen in love, at the age of eight, with Hadji Stavros, Edmund About’s “King of the Mountains,” and, in consequence, was perfectly at home with brigands.