He was standing near the door and dodged as he went out. He did not come back. When he had inquired about the ships he decided not to seek Abdul himself, but to send a man--a cheap man--to tell him about it. This was just a dull fellow with not much politeness and no imagination. "The ships are there by the order of the Minister of Marine, Your Majesty," he said. Abdul was so astonished that he forgot to slay the fellow. "Bring the Minister of Marine!" he gasped, when at last he could catch his breath. The Minister of Marine came--a new minister--one of the Young Turk Party. He was polite, but not upset by the Sultan's emotion. When Abdul demanded the reason why the old ships had been furbished up and brought down into the Bosporus, he replied that they were there by his orders, and added: "We think they look better there, Your Majesty, as in the old days." "But, by the beard of the Prophet, I will not have them there! Take them away!" "Your Majesty, it grieves me to seem discourteous, not to say rude, but those ships are to remain at their present anchorage. It grieves me still further to appear to be firm, not to say harsh, but if there is any show of resistance in this neighborhood they have orders to open fire on Your Majesty's palace." Abdul took a chair and sat down. His jaw dropped, and he looked at the Minister of Marine a good while without seeming to see him. Then he got up and tottered over to the window and gazed out on those ships lying just below, on the Bosporus. By-and-by, he went to a little ornamental table and took a pen and some paper and wrote an order in this wise: Owing to my declining years and my great burdens of responsibility, it is my wish that in future all matters pertaining to the army and navy be under the supervision of the Secretary of War and the Minister of Marine. ABDUL HAMID, KAHN II. Son of the Prophet--Shadow of God, etc., etc. At all events, that was the purport of it. In reality, it was a succession of wriggly marks which only a Moslem could read. Never mind, it was a graceful surrender. * * * * * There is a wonderful old Moslem cemetery near Bulgurlu--one of the largest in the world and the most thickly planted. It is favored by Moslems because it is on the side of the city nearest Mecca, and they are lying there three deep and have overflowed into the roads and byways. Their curiously shaped and elaborately carved headstones stand as thick as grain--some of them crowned with fezzes--some with suns--all of them covered with emblems and poetry and passages from the Koran. They are tumbled this way and that; they are lying everywhere along the road; they have been built into the wayside walls. [Illustration: I WANTED TO CARRY AWAY ONE OF THOSE TOMBSTONES]