In the bazaar we spent a long time before the old man could decide what quality of white cotton to buy, and a great curiosity was roused among the shopkeepers as to who he could be, for he made himself conspicuous by his arrogance and his loud tones of an Arabic, so different from the dialect of Bagdad, the only Arabic known to Sulaimania. So while he haggled, I accepted the invitation of a Kurdish shopman on the opposite side of the alley, and joined him in a cigarette, answering his questions as a return for his hospitality. The vociferating old man caused him some amusement, as it did the others; and his ignorance of their native Kurdish bent them the more upon driving a hard bargain, for he bore the mark of the Turk, and was to be detested accordingly. At last, however, he completed his purchase, and we came back to the house and arranged with a sempstress found for us by Baji Raihan, the old woman of the house. For the sum of nine “baichu” (or about ninepence) we arranged with this rakish girl, with the big turban cocked over one eye, to sew the shirts. It being noon by now, we lunched in the upper portico, and the old man left for the caravanserai, while I, in the custom of the country, lay down to sleep for an hour or two. In this way several days passed. Each morning or afternoon I spent at Matti’s office, chatting to the idle merchants, for the Hamavands held the road and no business was done. Habib Badria, who was reckoned as one of the more progressive of the Mosul Christians, and who, in token of the fact, had discarded the Christian turban for the fez, delighted to talk of Europe, and would hold great discussions as to the possibility of his making a living in Paris--the aim and end of his desires. After a while he displayed a great interest in municipal affairs, and would converse for hours about motor dust-carts, underground drains, and such things, never dreamed of in Sulaimania till he heard of them from me. It was a hard task to convince him that London was bigger than Paris, and he regarded it as even a little unmannerly to hint at such, while he obviously forgave me for exaggerating about a nation of which I was a subject; for though I was known as Ghulam Husain the Persian, I had taken care to spread the fact that I was a British subject, to avoid annoyance at the Turks’ hands. Mustafa Beg as a rule avoided the Christians, and though perfectly friendly towards them, did not consider it quite compatible with his dignity to be seen sitting with them. He had almost remonstrated with me on the subject, but he checked himself as he observed with an unction I do not think hypocritical, “Well, well, you say your prayers like a good Muslim, for I have seen you many a time, and what harm if an infidel give you entertainment?” [Sidenote: A MILITARY ACADEMY]