The Hair of this Creature is very fine, and extreamly white, and it hangs down from their Bodies to the Ground. The Goat-herds do not sheer, but kemb it off, and it is almost as fine as Silk. These _Goats_ are often washed in the neighbouring Rivers, and feed upon the Grass growing there, which is very tender and dry, and that certainly contributes much to the Fineness of their Wool; for if they are removed to another Place, their Fleece changes with their Pasture, and their Kids do so degenerate, that one would hardly think them of the same Breed. The Thread that is spun of that Hair or Wool, is carried, by the Women of that Country, to _Ancyra_, a City of _Galatia_, where it is woven into Cloth and dy’d, as I shall tell you anon. Moreover the Sheep of those Countries have very fat and weighty Tails, (their Sheep-Flocks consist hardly of any other.) The Tail of any one of them weighs sometimes three or four Pound, and sometimes eight or ten; yea, they grow so big in some old Sheep, that they are forc’d to lay them upon a Plank, running on two little Wheels, that so they may draw them after them, not being otherwise able to trail them along. Perhaps you will think I tell you a Romance; but, take it on my Word, it is a certain Truth. I grant, such bulky Tails may be of some Advantage, because they are full of Fat; but the Flesh of the Sheep seemed more harsh and rank to me, than our own Mutton. The Shepherds that tend them lie Day and Night in the Fields, and carry their Wives and Children about with them, in Waggons, which serve them instead of Houses; only sometimes they erect small Tents to lie under. They wander far and near, sometimes in the open Campaign, sometimes over Hills, sometimes over Dales, as the Season of the Year, and the Necessity of Pasturage, doth require. I saw also in those Countries, some Sort of Birds, unknown to us, and such as I never saw before. Among the rest, there is a Kind of _Ducks_, which gives a Sound like Trumpeters, or such as blow the Cornet; the Noise they make is almost like the Sound of a Post-Boy’s Horn. It is a Bird, which though it hath nothing wherewith to defend itself, yet is very strong and daring. The _Turks_ are verily persuaded, that the Devils are afraid of these Birds. This is certain, they are so tenaciously sensible of their Liberty, that tho’ they have been kept up tame in a Coop, for three Years together, yet if they can but get an Opportunity to escape away, they fly to their wonted Haunts, as preferring their natural Seats before their confined Prisons, though they be cramm’d and fatten’d there.