I started rather late, in consequence of the altercation. After a five hours' ride along a good road and through a beautiful country, we arrived at Madeh. Here there are several silver-mines which, till very lately, have been worked by the Turks. I was informed that water has recently found its way into the pits. In consequence of this the miners had abandoned them. "It is a great pity," said an old Turk, an inhabitant of the village. "With proper machinery it would be easy to pump out the water, and these mines abound in silver." "We have got nothing but paper money in Anatolia," he added sorrowfully, "all this rich metal lies buried beneath our feet." It surprises a traveller to find that the Turks make so little use of their mines. In the course of my ride from Angora I had passed through a country apparently abounding in iron, and with many traces of coal. At Madeh there is silver, whilst copper is also found in the immediate neighbourhood. With intelligent engineers to explore the mineral wealth of Anatolia, Turkey would be able not only to pay the interest of her debt, but would speedily become one of the richest countries in the world. From Madeh we continued the march to Kowakoli. The country on each side of the road is covered with vines. The grapes in this part of Turkey are very large. The inhabitants preserve the fruit throughout the winter by hanging it up in cellars. The atmosphere is dry; unless the temperature falls much below zero, and the grapes freeze, they can be kept till the early spring. There is no wine made in the neighbourhood. The Armenians, who in other parts of Anatolia make large sums of money by distilling spirits, here neglect this branch of industry. The grapes are either eaten, or the unfermented juice is kept to sweeten pastry, for sugar is very dear, and costs more than a shilling the pound. This price is beyond the means of not only the poorer, but even of the wealthier inhabitants of the district. In consequence of this they drink their coffee without sweetening it, and look upon a present of a few pounds of sugar as a donation worthy of a sultan's generosity. I was hospitably entertained by an old farmer. He bewailed the disasters caused by the Angora famine, which had been felt throughout all this district. The road from Angora had been blocked by snow for three months and a half. His cattle all died from starvation, his goats had also perished. The late Sultan, Abdul Aziz, had sent large sums of money and food to the suffering people; but the roads were impassable, and the provisions could not reach their destination. Many poor people had died of hunger with cartloads of corn and barley only a few miles from their doors. My host had one son, a lad about sixteen years of age. The boy regretted that he was not old enough to join the sultan's forces. "Your time will come soon enough," observed his parent.