As the procession passed by the crowd, some of the donkeys began to trot. The motion became very disagreeable to the fair equestrians. The robes began to rise, and the husbands running forward, held down their wives' attire. This would have provoked the laughter of a European crowd, but in Turkey women are looked upon as beings to be shut off from the public gaze. The Mohammedan husband as a rule does not like any one to see him walking with his own wife. The children too look upon their father as a being far superior to themselves. The Turkish parent walks first along the road, the children next some fifty yards behind their father. Last of all comes the wife, alone and neglected. She accepts this lot with resignation—her mother was a slave before her, and she will remain one till death or divorce dissolve the marriage-tie. I now called upon the head of the Mohammedan religion at Yuzgat. He received me very courteously, and we conversed for some time upon the respective merits of the Mussulman and Christian faith. It appeared that very recently a house belonging to the Imaum (priest) had been burned to the ground. "I hope you did not lose much property," I remarked. "Everything I had was burned," said the old man. "But it did not signify. Allah was kind. The inhabitants raised a subscription for me. My house will soon be restored," he continued. "Allah is very good to all the true believers. If a house belonging to one of your Christian Mollahs (priests) be burned down, what does he do?" inquired the old Mohammedan. "His house is generally insured," I replied. "He pays a little money every year to a company, and then if the edifice is destroyed by fire, it is built up again for him." "Does he pay much money?" "Yes, if the house is a good one, he has to pay a large sum every year." "What is the good of paying at all?" said the Mohammedan. "Why does he not trust in Allah? That is what I have done. My new house will cost me nothing, God is great, there is but one God! And Mahomet, he is the Prophet of God," added the old man piously. "But I thought that you believed in Kismet—destiny," I remarked. "Destiny is great, but Allah is greater. He created destiny," was the reply. "Do you think that Allah can change His mind?" "He is All powerful; he can do what He likes," observed the Imaum excitedly. Later in the day I walked into an Armenian church. This was a large building, with red carpets, and rather reminded me of a mosque. It must sometimes have been bitterly cold inside, for there were no stoves in the building. I was informed that the upper classes who came to pray, all wore furs. As the lower orders are not able to pay for any such warm garments, they must occasionally be half-frozen when listening to their priest's oration.