Such things, however, are rare, only of extraordinary occurrence, and on memorable occasions; but the Medâk, or Story-teller, is a source of every-day enjoyment. This is a very important personage, and an essential part of Turkish amusement. He enacts by himself, in a monologue, various characters, and with a spirit and fidelity quite astonishing, considering the inflexible and taciturn disposition of the people. The admirable manner in which one unassisted individual supports the representations of various persons, the versatility with which he adopts their countenance, attitude, and phraseology, are so excellent, that Frank residents, who have been accustomed to the perfection of the scenic art in their own country, are highly delighted with this Turkish drollery, and they are constant spectators, not only for amusement, but to perfect themselves in the language by hearing it under its various inflections, and thus acquire a knowledge which a common master could never impart; they also go to see different traits of manners, and of real life faithfully represented, which a long residence in the country would hardly allow them an opportunity of witnessing. The Medâk, therefore, is a public character, of importance to strangers as well as others. The subjects he selects for representation are Oriental stories, some actually taken from, and all greatly resembling the tales of the Arabian Nights, in which the incidents and persons seem to have the same origin. Sometimes the corruption of a cadi, and his manner of administering justice, are detailed with considerable humour and sarcastic severity. Sometimes a Turkish proverb is illustrated, and forms, as it were, the text of his details; and the effects of various vices and virtues are exhibited, so as to form an excellent moral lesson. Among the proverbs illustrated and dramatized, the following are the most usual. “In a cart drawn by a buffalo, you may catch a hare.” “It is not by saying ‘honey, honey,’ it will come to your mouth.” “A man cannot carry two melons under one arm.” “Though your enemy be no bigger than an ant, suppose him as large as an elephant.” “More flies are caught by a drop of honey, than by a hogshead of vinegar.” “He who rides only a borrowed horse, does not do so often.” “Do not trust to the whiteness of a turban.” “Though the tongue has no bones in it, it breaks many.” In these and similar ones, the effects of industry, perseverance, idleness, caution, cunning, and such other moral qualities, are illustrated in a manner equally striking and amusing. In these representations, he passes from grave to gay with a singular and happy facility, seemingly unattainable by the dullness and limited capabilities of a Turk. The volatile Greek at his strokes of pathos or humour sheds tears, or bursts out into uncontrollable laughter−-the grave Armenian, incapable of higher excitement, looks sad, or smiles−-while the phlegmatic Turk, though profoundly attentive