At one time, by far the larger number of hamals employed in the city were Armenians. Those of them who were attached to merchants’ offices, as caretakers and confidential messengers, were renowned for their fidelity and honesty. Any sum of money could be entrusted to their keeping with absolute safety. Since the massacres of 1896, when this class of the Armenian population was the object of special attack, and was almost exterminated, the hamals of the city are chiefly Kurds. It took some time for the newcomers to learn their duties, and merchants were seriously inconvenienced by the consequent accumulation of their goods at the Custom House, and the slowness of delivery. But, to all complaints on the subject, the authorities, as though the injured parties, returned the characteristic reply, “Why do you bring so many goods?” Armenian hamals used to have one great holiday in the year--Easter Monday--which they spent in dancing together, in their best garb, on a great mound of rubbish beside the military parade ground at Taxim. On their return, through the Grand Rue of Pera, “it was not uncommon to see a band of them, carrying their long, massive poles, heaving with every appearance of intense strain and fatigue; the burden hung in the centre--an egg!” With the growth of a higher sense of human dignity this species of a beast of burden will become extinct. To omit all reference to the dogs of a city which has been styled a “dog-kennel” is impossible, however well worn the theme may be. They are one of the prominent features in the street-scenery of the city, and attract the attention of all travellers. Along with other “improvements” their number has been greatly diminished during recent years, but they are still in evidence in every thoroughfare of the place. Tawny in colour, with a furry coat, bushy tail, and pointed ears, they betray their relationship to the wolf and the fox, although the hardships of their lot, and still more the indulgence with which they are treated by a large part of the population, have taken almost all their ferocity out of them, except in their treatment of one another. They are the assistant-scavengers of the city, eating the pieces of food found in the rubbish, which, after an old custom not yet obsolete, is still too often dumped into the street by the inhabitants at night, for the official scavenger to remove in the morning. To some extent they act also as watchmen, making night hideous with their barking. [Illustration: MARKET AT SCUTARI It is always market-day somewhere in Constantinople.]