In this street one is not shouted at, or dragged bodily into the shops if he stops to look at a display of wares, as he is in Greek and Jewish quarters. This is the business street of the man who opens his shop and sits still till Allah provides the trade. Certain classes of shops in Salonica perambulate. The cart has to be largely dispensed with in most Turkish towns, chiefly because the streets are paved. This is not the case in Salonica; the paving is comparatively good there; but the Macedonian has got into the habit of providing for roads paved with cobble stones. Over the backs of asses and sure-footed mountain ponies the butcher has an arrangement of carving boards, and cuts off a lamb chop or a roast at his customer’s door. One has to rise early to see the heads still on the lambs, for they are great delicacies, and go first, and when roasted the unbounded joy of the native cracking the skull and picking out the tasty bits is nauseating in the extreme. The entrails of animals are also relished; they are eaten as the Italian eats his macaroni. [Illustration: THE TURKISH BUTCHER.] The milkman, generally a Tzigane, does not drive the cow through the streets, but brings the milk slung over an ass, in a skin, one end of which he milks at order. A small Jew, with a huge fez and a man’s coat which reached almost to the skirt of his dress, was a daily nuisance on Consul Avenue. I suppose he dragged his four-footed draper’s shop down the aristocratic foreign thoroughfares to show off his father, who dressed in ‘Franks,’ but whose bellow was distinctly Levantine. In summer months the two-footed lemonade stand would be a pleasant encounter were it not so numerous. But as it is generally an Albanian, it does not pester one to buy: it simply requires one to get out of its road. It carries a shelf in front with half a dozen glasses stuck in holes, a copper pitcher in its hand with water for rinsing glasses after Christians have used them, and a curious reservoir of an over-sweet drink on its back. If this receptacle has not many little metal pieces to jingle upon it, the gaily garbed Albanian keeps up a tapping with two glasses as he advances down the street. Most of the men of Macedonia wear a form of skirt, but especially in Salonica does the new arrival feel that he has landed among a race of bearded women. The most picturesque dress to be seen in Salonica is that of the Southern Albanian. It is a sort of ballet skirt, like that of the Greek ‘Evzones,’ a white, pleated thing about the length of a Highlander’s kilt. But the Albanian is more modest than the Scot, and wears his stockings to a proper height.