_The Dutch Parson_ gave me his blessing. Though generally optimistic and pro-Turk, he admitted that things looked unusually black at the moment, and advised me to “wait and see.” _A British Naval Officer_ would not admit the sarcasm of his comment that it was “very interesting” of me to “go to Angora!” He considered “the Turks the finest race on the face of the earth.... My God, they know what I mean!” And, personally, I believe they knew very well. _One American_ could only repeat that “it was a mad idea.... We are not safe even here. There is plenty of oil there, certainly, but—heroics _is_ heroics!” _A Second American_ wanted to know “what they were giving me for this stunt,” and guessed “it was a pretty high figure.” That I was going on my own responsibility and paying my own way he “simply would not believe.” _The South American_ was the first of them all to express any confidence that the Turks would be kind. What _he_ dreaded for me was the discomfort. “Above all,” he said, “avoid the Red Army.” _The Englishman_ characteristically pinned his faith on the courage of our race. “It has brought you here,” said he, “and I believe it will bring you back.... Here is my woollen jacket, a tin of milk, and this letter to an American friend of mine. Promise me, if _ever_ you are in difficulty, you will seek his help.” I afterwards made inquiries about this invaluable ally, though I was, fortunately, in no danger. I found that, after all, he never reached Angora, though he had applied to go there last March! _A Third Italian_ told me that he had just found a little silver St. Antoine de Padou among the ruins.... “My prayers for you will go with it always. After the snows of Angora, our Italian sunshine, its songs and its laughter, will await you.” Besides the St. Anthony, he gave me a book of Italian proverbs, a box of insect-powder, cough-drops, and chocolate. _The Frenchman_ only exclaimed: “No Angora for me, _merci_! I am counting the hours until the boat arrives to take me away from all this.” _The Englishwoman_ (Mrs. de C——) felt proud to think of the “feather in a woman’s cap,” that such an adventure would surely prove. _The Dutchman_ declared that he would trust even his own daughter on such a journey, if “the Vali had pledged his word for her safe conduct.... I know this country inside out—its language, its dangers, its possibilities, its virtues and faults.... You may trust the Vali.... If war breaks out, they will take you, with all possible politeness, to the nearest frontier.” He gave me all kinds of useful information, and much-needed boxes of matches and cigarettes. Truly a wonderful budget of advice and a most original collection of gifts! Did ever a woman thus start such a quest? Yet they had made me sad! Some were born here, others had lived in the country all their lives, and how few of them would trust the Turk, to whom, after all, they owed, at least, their material existence.