"The Effendi's horses are not like other horses, they eat more, and work more. We and he, too, we all like large chickens. The Effendi is rich, and he pays; he is big, and he eats a great deal. He is not giving more money for barley now than he gave when he was in Constantinople. The people at the Khans tell me the price, I give them what they ask. It would not do for me to be mean with my lord's gold. In future I shall know better. I will find out the proper value of everything, and will only pay what is just." I interrupted him. "Osman," I said, "you are a thief! However, as we leave Yuzgat to-day, there is no time for me to get another servant. Only, beware! for if I find you deceiving me any more, not all the hairs in the Prophet's beard shall save you from being discharged." "The Effendi knows what is best," said Osman coolly. "He has brain, and I—I am the dust in his sight. Another time we will not give so much for our barley, we will tighten our purse-strings to the chicken-sellers. We have all been deceived, we will be so no longer." We rode through an undulating country, in the direction of Sivas. The track was firm and good; there was an abundant supply of water throughout the district, numerous flocks and herds were grazing by the side of the path. After marching for six hours and a half, we halted at a Turkoman village, called Kulhurdook, which contained forty-five mud hovels. With much difficulty I obtained accommodation in a filthily dirty barn. Here our horses were also sheltered; side by side with them stood several cows and oxen. A small piece of carpet covered the ground in one corner of the building. The proprietor, bringing me a pillow, which once had been white, but was now black with dirt, placed it under my head, Radford and Osman lying down by the side of the horses. There were several mostaphas, or men belonging to the last army reserve, in this village. They eagerly inquired if there would be war, but did not express any wish to fight their country's battles. This struck me as the more remarkable, for elsewhere I had observed great martial ardour amongst the rural classes. I afterwards learnt that several men who had been enlisted from this village had been killed in Servia, hence the unwillingness of the mostaphas to go to what they considered certain death. I tried to sleep: this was impossible; some little insects, which the manager of the Crystal Palace advertises as "industrious," proved their industry by making fierce onslaughts on my body. Repeated groans from Osman made me aware that even his skin was not proof against the attack; whilst my English servant, who had given up all idea of sleeping, was walking about with a pipe in his mouth, and probably doing anything but bless his master who had brought him to such an out-of-the-way region. "Can you not sleep, Radford?" I inquired.