This strange impression of our race prevails, I know, also in France and America. They forget Shakespeare’s Falstaff and the supreme “good fellowship of English laughter.” French wit, no doubt, reveals the swift play of a keener and more subtle intellect; ours is a “midsummer madness” of warm hearts in the Forests of Arden. For my part, when the “literature” mistress challenged her class to “hunt for humour” in “Julius Cæsar,” I put my finger upon the Stage Direction—“Enter Cæsar in his nightgown!” I could not then, nor can I now, agree that Brutus’s wife’s distracted hurrying away, and then recalling, the page for news of his master is anything but tragic pathos. Few nations, again, will enjoy as we do a joke against themselves. When I published a “Turkish Woman’s Impressions of Europe,” about ten years ago, in which she so happily hit off the weakness of our Western civilisations, the Continent was up in arms. It was an _English_ critic who gaily expressed his “most sincere thanks” for so “thorough a dressing-down.” No publisher in the States would take the following book, with Americans as “victims,” for fear of his “sensitive” and “patriotic” (!) readers. * * * * * At a half-ruined restaurant near the station, over the most excellent meal I ever tasted in such miserable surroundings, we had a long talk with General Mouedine Pasha and his two sons about politics and some curious stories they had heard somewhere about England. It is natural that these men should not be interested in any other subject. The general, he told us, had been in and out of prison for the last fifteen years—exiled by Abdul Hamid, escaping, and caught again. After the Armistice he left Constantinople, at great personal risk, to join M. Kemal Pasha; was, for a time, Governor of Adana, and is now taking up his post as Ambassador at Teheran. Most of the leading soldier Nationalists—M. Kemal Pasha and Fethi Bey among the rest—seem to have been his grateful pupils, and, naturally, he is a proud man to-day. If only the authorities at Lausanne had known or could imagine anything about life in Angora during the last three years! All the best men exiled, persecuted, and imprisoned. What wonder that Nationalism had grown into a religion! He was indignant at the suggestion that French officers, or a British strategist, were “wanted” in the Turkish Army. “My pupils,” he said, “are more fitted to _give_ instruction than to receive it.... “The buying and selling of munitions, the haggling and bargaining introduced in the army—all that ought _not_ to be—came from Germany.” He was not the _only_ “big man” in Turkey to lose faith in their war-ally, or to recognise some compensation for their terrible defeat in the freedom from Teuton rule that it involved; but they are not, therefore, any more kindly disposed to the yoke of “the Allies.”