The _Romans_ of old, were not ignorant of this gainful Trade; which made them set an high Rate on 20 or 30 thousand Persons, which they sometimes took at the sacking of Cities, as their Writings shew. But a _Turk_, upon the like Sack, would make ten times five hundred Crowns of his Prize, though by the rules of their Religion they are not to make Slaves of any of their own Sect; nor to disfranchize them, or set any Price on their Heads. But to return from this large Digression: I formerly acquainted you with my Sport in _Hunting_; it follows, in course, that I must say something of my _Fowling_. The _Turks_ are favourable to all Beasts, as also to Birds; and especially to Kites, because, they say, they eat up the Carrion, and keep the Streets clean and wholsome; and, therefore, abundance of these Birds fly up and down the Town, as fearless of Gin or Snare, so that they are almost tame; and when you whistle to them, they come about you; throw them up Meat in the Air, they’ll catch it with their Claws. Once I caused a Sheep to be killed, and called the Kites to prey upon the Entrails. I cut them in pieces, and threw them up into the Air; by and by came ten or twelve or twenty Kites, and a while after so many of them, that they almost shaded the House; and they are so bold, withal, that if you hold out a piece of Flesh, they will be ready to snatch it out of your Hands. In the mean time, I stood with my Cross-Bow behind the Pillar, and sometimes when I shot, I made the Tail or Feathers of one or other of them to fly off, and sometimes I gave one or two a mortal Wound, and made them tumble down; but this I did privately, when the Doors were shut, that so I might not provoke the _Turks_ to Indignation. I must tell you, I have _Partridges_ too (to acquaint you with my whole Stock of pleasurable Recreations). You would wonder, as I my self did at first, how tame they are. They were brought from _Chios_ with red Feet and Beaks; they were so troublesome to me, by standing at my Feet, and picking the Dust out of my Velvet Pantofle, with their Beaks, that they might dust themselves therewith, that, to be rid of the Molestation, I was forced to shut them up in a Chamber, where, in a short time, they grew over-fat and died, as my Servants told me; yet _Pliny_ says, in a certain Place, that _Hares_ and _Partridges_ never grow fat. You have yet but small ground for your Wonderment; but, pray, prepare your Ears for what follows.