"Because Russia is strong and we are weak—the other powers are afraid of Russia," said the Cadi. "Do Englishmen like Russia?" inquired the Mudir. "Some do, and some do not," I replied. "Do you?" "I like the people, but do not like the government." "Why?" "Because it is a despotic form of government, and in my opinion all despotisms are bad." "I like to hear that," said the Mudir. "So do I," said each one of the assembled guests, taking the cue from the governor. "Will England be our ally in the case of war?" asked the Cadi. "I do not know, but I hope so." Some one now entered and spoke a few words to the Mudir. The latter left the room: he was followed by the rest of the visitors, with the exception of the Armenian priest. "How do you like the Turks?" I asked. "Very well," replied the old man, at the same time blowing his nose in his dressing-gown, pocket handkerchiefs being apparently unknown in this part of Turkey. "Here," he added, "the population is half Armenian and half Turk, this makes a considerable difference. In other villages, where the Mohammedans outnumber the Christians, the latter sometimes suffer." "What do you mean by suffer? Are they tortured?" "No, never," replied the priest, "but if a Turk were to strike an Armenian, and the latter were to hit him back, all the Turks in the neighbourhood would set upon the Christian. Then, if the Christian should complain to the Mudir, the Turk would bring witnesses to say that the Armenian called him the grandson or great-grandson of a dog. The Christian's word would not be taken as evidence. But things are much better than they used to be, and here we get on well with the Mussulmans." My English servant was very much excited that evening. At dinner-time he put down my plate with a bang on the table, and every now and then looked at Osman with an air of supreme contempt. "What has happened?" I at last inquired. "Have you and Osman been fighting, or are you both in love with the same woman?" "No, sir, but that Hosman he ain't taken the pack-saddle off our horse's back since we left Scutari. Every night I tells him about it, and he takes no notice of me whatever. I expect that our oss has an awful back—a nasty unfeeling brute is Hosman, sir. How would he like a saddle on his own back night and day for fourteen days?" "Well," I said, "go to the stable, take off the saddle, and tell me in the morning if the horse's back is sore or not."