Nobody would give this sum, and as I thought that possibly the operation performed by the Turkish veterinary surgeon might benefit the animal, I determined to wait another day in Angora. This would also give me an opportunity of inspecting more closely the old Augustin monument, one of the curiosities in the town. To my great delight the operation proved successful; in the evening the horse could walk without much pain. He would be able to march on the following morning, and so I gave orders for an early start. Just before leaving, a servant arrived from the Pacha's palace. The young Bey, who had observed that I much admired a work entitled the "History of the Ottoman Empire," and which was in his library, had sent it to me as a present, and hoped that I would do him the honour of accepting the book as a memento of my visit to Angora. There were about ten volumes, the weight would have been at least twenty pounds, and a considerable addition to the baggage. Much to my regret, I was obliged to decline the kind offer. The hospitality of the Turkish nation is proverbial. The generosity of the Turks is equally great. In fact, they carry this virtue to excess. Sometimes after having admired a horse, I have been surprised to find that the steed has been sent to my stable, with a note from the owner, entreating my acceptance of the animal. I often experienced great difficulty in finding excuses for not accepting the presents so generously offered to me by my entertainers. "I cannot take any more luggage," I would say, if the present were at all cumbersome. However, if it were a horse, I could only decline the gift and say that I had not sufficient servants to look after the animals. "But I have plenty of servants, take one of mine; he will accompany you throughout your journey, and then will return to me," would be the answer. People in this country who abuse the Turkish nation, and accuse them of every vice under the sun, would do well to leave off writing pamphlets and travel a little in Anatolia. There is an old saying that "the devil is not so black as he is painted," and in many things writers who call themselves Christians might well take a lesson from the Turks in Asia Minor. CHAPTER XIV. We leave Angora—The Effendi wants a turkey—A very old cock—The cooking-pot—An Armenian woman on horseback—Baggage upset in the river—Cartridges in the water—Osman castigating the delinquent—Delayed on the road—Asra Yuzgat—How the inhabitants build their houses—The Caimacan—His house—His servants undress him—He goes to bed—All the cartridges spoiled. My host was up at daybreak to see me off. "Come and see me in England," I said. "If Allah pleases, I will," was my friend's reply, and I only hope that I may have the opportunity of returning Suleiman Effendi's hospitality. The road was hard and good for a few miles, we rode for some time by the Ayash river.