"He does not know what war is like," added the farmer sorrowfully. "A great many men have gone to Servia from this neighbourhood, and several have been killed. God grant, if my boy should have to go, that he may return to his old father." "Is there much enthusiasm here for the war?" I inquired. "Immense," replied the farmer; "the people feel that it is a question not only of religion but also of property. We landlords should not like to have Russian assessors grinding us down to the last piastre. We do not wish to be tortured to change our religion, and we do not want to be made soldiers against our will." "But you are all soldiers now," I remarked. "Yes, because it is the time of war, and it is a struggle for our very existence. When the fighting is over, our young men will return to their homesteads, and gladden their families once more." "Do you think that you shall be able to withstand your foe?" "Allah is always on the side of justice, and He will give us the victory," rejoined the old man proudly. "Our land shall drink our blood ere we give up one foot of soil to the invader." We now rode towards Sekili, a village about twenty-seven miles from our sleeping quarters. Presently my grey horse began to walk lame. He had been kicked by the guide's animal on the previous day. My weight was too much for the poor little brute. I resolved to change horses with Osman, who was much lighter than myself. Calling the Turk to my side, I desired him to dismount, and then mounted the ambling steed. The pace of a Rahvan, or ambling horse, is an easy one for the rider; and the animal can get over the ground at the rate of about five miles an hour; the ordinary walk of the small Turkish horses being not much above three. We passed by some hovels. Their walls were built of marble; the roofs were made of beams covered with mud; the pure white rock presenting a striking contrast to its filthy surroundings. Marble abounds in this neighbourhood. Large blocks were lying on all sides of us, and along our path. Some ruins in the vicinity showed that hundreds of years ago the inhabitants of this part of Anatolia were able to utilize their quarries. Poor Turkey, she has descended the steps of civilization, and not ascended them like European nations. However, though mud hovels have replaced the marble palaces of the Turk's ancestors, the Turks themselves remain unchanged. Hospitality—their great virtue—is as rife in 1877 as in the days of Mohammed II. No matter where an Englishman may ask for shelter, he will never find a Mohammedan who will deny him admittance. We left behind us some mountains of slate, and rode over rich soil, which had been left fallow for miles around. "There are not inhabitants enough to cultivate the land," was the guide's answer to a question from me about the subject.