After all, he would have been no exception to mankind in general. I remember during the last Carlist war hearing a story about a priest who, on the eve of an expected battle, addressed the soldiers in his battalion, and informed them that whoever was slain in the morrow's fight should sup with Nuestro Señor in Paradise. The morrow came, the battle raged, and the Carlists were beaten—the priest's battalion being the first to run away, headed by the divine himself, who, tucking up his cassock, ran as fast as his legs could carry him. A soldier touched the reverend gentleman on the shoulder, and said, "You told us, my father, that whoever was slain in to-day's fight should sup in Paradise, but you are running away." "My son," replied the Cura, who was very much out of breath, "I, I—never sup—I suffer from a weak digestion—I only dine." Some people in England believe that a doctrine of predestination makes the Turkish soldiers indifferent to death. This may be true in a few isolated instances; but, as a rule, both Turks and Christians have an extreme dislike to the dread ordeal. The track became firmer. We overtook some Bashi Bazouks returning from Bulgaria. They were most of them Circassians, and one could speak Russian. He was very indignant at having been ordered home, and brandishing his long lance, with bright steel point at least twelve inches long, regretted that he had lost the opportunity of transfixing a few giaour Russians. "Did you kill many women?" I inquired. "There were some killed," he replied. "It was a pity. We were sorry for it; but what would you have our men do? Some of their own mothers and sisters had been ravished and then butchered by the Russians." "Have any of your relatives been treated in this way?" I inquired. "No," he said, "but in a village not far from Gumri, some horrible cruelties have recently taken place, many women and children were slain, and all because they wished to leave Russia and go to Turkey." "If my mother or sister had been killed, I should not be particular as to how I avenged her," he continued. "These cowardly Russians set us the example." There was no sort of similarity in the attire of the Bashi Bazouks. Each man had dressed himself according to his fancy; the broad sashes around their waists were stuck full of pistols and daggers. The fire-arms, too, were of the most primitive kind; some men had old-fashioned muskets of the Tower pattern, and others were armed with double-barrelled guns, which had been converted from flint to percussion. Their horses looked hard and fit for work, they were as a rule not more than fourteen hands high, and their rough shaggy coats reminded me a little of the Cossack horses which I have seen in the neighbourhood of the Don.