To pay honour where honour is due, I compliment the Minister on the splendid “foreign” news of both his papers—the _Tanine_ and the _Vakit_. I wish to-day that I knew the language and could read the articles by Hussein Djahid and Ahmet Emine. Even translated, I find them full of sound commonsense and beautifully written. If at times they are bitter, there is none of that sensationalism which our Press has lately borrowed from the States. My host is due at his office at 9.30, but, though he has ventured to glance at his watch, the talk continues. At about 10.30, I casually ask: “Are you not going to your office to-day?” “When you allow it,” was the startling answer. Now, surely, time is of importance at least to a responsible Minister? Yet he will cheerfully give up an hour of his sleep (for that is what it will mean) to my entertainment, because I have forgotten _my_ duty. “Do not hesitate,” he went on, “to tell me of anyone you would specially like to meet, man or woman. It shall be arranged.... Fethi Bey will lunch with you to-day. Whom else shall I invite?” I said that I should, one day, like to see Younous Nadi Bey, the editor of _Yeni Gun_ and President of Commission for Foreign Affairs in the Grand National Assembly. “He must be interesting, since our Press describe him as a ‘man who ought to be shot’!” I found this gentleman, as I expected, well worth going out of one’s way to meet. Without the exquisite manners of Hussein Djahid Bey, he is one of those men who, having made up his own mind about right and wrong, never hesitates to act. At any rate, until he _is_ shot, he will not allow the Government to sleep, nor to trust Europe without sufficient guarantees. He graciously wrote in _Yeni Gun_ that I had given him some very valuable information about our policy. I certainly did my best to explain Lord Curzon’s position. Neither he nor Fethi Bey, however, could understand how he could stay in the new Cabinet. I scarcely expected that they, or any foreigner, could realise the full measure of England’s folly in putting the whole machinery of government into one man’s undisputed control. Like everyone else nominally in power, the Foreign Minister became a mere cypher. “Why did he stand it?” they asked. “For the moment, no protests would have had any effect. His resignation might easily have brought in a far more complete collapse, and, meanwhile, he probably felt that the interests of Conservatism were, to a large extent, in his hands. Lord Curzon knows the East, and he knows what _ought_ to be done. As Goethe says: ‘Between the knave and the fool, one should always choose the knave.’... _Gegen die Dumheit, kämpfen die Götte selbst vergebens._ (Even the gods fight in vain against stupidity.)”