About four hours from Bieliki we were met by Dervisch Pacha. Here, again, we found more Bashi Bazouks, both horse and foot, as well as a battalion of chasseurs of the army of Constantinople. On arriving in camp, I was told off to share the tent of a Colonel-Doctor, by name Rali Bey, who received me most hospitably. He is a young Greek, who has served about eight years, having entered as a Major-Doctor. (Be not horrified, O Surgeon-Major, at so unheard-of a proceeding! Doubtless your privileges are far greater than his, save that you have the Major as an appendage in place of a prefix.) The aforesaid Rali Bey was far the best specimen of a Turkish military doctor whom I ever met. As a rule, they are not an attractive set. Almost invariably Constantinopolitans, they jabber execrable French fluently enough, and affect European manners in a way which is truly disgusting: add to this a natural disregard of cleanliness, and an obtrusive familiarity, and nothing more is wanted to complete the picture. Of their professional capacity I am unable to speak, never, I am thankful to say, having been compelled to intrust my constitution to their hands; but, judging from the fact that, on leaving college, they dispense with books, I felt inclined to attribute the singularly small amount of sickness in camp more to fortuitous circumstances than to the _ars medendi_, as practised by these ingenuous young men. The sanitary state of the army at that time contrasted very favourably with its condition some two months later in the year. At the first period to which I allude there were only seventy men actually in hospital, the whole force at Bieliki amounting to 8,047 regulars and 2,900 Bashi Bazouks. Of the twelve battalions of regular infantry which composed the force five were armed with rifles, and were termed chasseurs in consequence. At the same time, it is fair to add that special attention has been paid to this arm, and the naturally keen eye of the Turkish soldiers renders their education a matter of comparative facility.