Excepting the chief of the staff, and some of the aides-de-camp, the staff in the field was composed of engineer officers, most of whom had passed some years in France or Belgium, while one had remained five years in England. But these are men of a very different stamp from the general run of regimental officers, who appear to think it the greatest privilege of their position to get very drunk whenever the opportunity offers itself, thus presenting a curious contrast with the remarkable sobriety of their men. One evening I chanced to witness a scene as amusing as it was characteristic of the people among whom I lived. A post had arrived, and Osman Pacha's private Secretary was occupied in dispensing the letters. The officers were admitted to his tent, and the childish glee which they displayed was diverting in the extreme. Not only did they mark their gratitude by kissing every portion of the Secretary's garments on which they could lay hand, but danced about, showing the epistles to all who approached. Fortunately, perhaps, few of these could read, so the breach of confidence was not very great. I have often noticed that an Oriental, when he does shake off the apathetic reserve habitual to him, becomes more excited and enthusiastic than warmer-blooded nations. At any rate they seem to possess a full measure of that natural instinct of joy at receiving tidings of loved ones in far distant lands. One of these letters was from the wife of an officer, who had not heard from her for many months, and whose last reports had informed him of the destruction of his house by fire. The apparent indifference with which he had received the first announcement completely gave way to a flood of happiness on hearing of the safety of those he loved. Verily they are not so devoid of feeling as is generally supposed--these fatalist Turks.