e of the old 'alaili,'
Turkish officers--those whose whole knowledge of their business was
derived from service in a regiment or 'alai,' instead of from
instruction at a military school; and his manner towards the men had
nothing of the martinet. He addressed them as 'my children,' with
affection; and they, though quite respectful, conversed freely in his
presence. Hasan Agha paid me many compliments, and repeatedly inquired
after my health. He would not hear about my business till I had had
breakfast. Luncheon had been arranged for me, he said, but that could
not be ready for some hours. Would I be so kind as to excuse a
makeshift? Even as he spoke, a soldier entered with a tray on which
were slabs of Arab bread, a pitcher of sour milk, and heaps of grapes.
Another soldier began pounding coffee, while yet another blew upon the
charcoal in a brazier. I refused to eat unless my host ate with me,
which he did only after much polite resistance. After the meal, we sat
and talked, the soldiers joining in the conversation. They told me of
old wars and deeds of valour. Hasan Agha was, it seemed, a famous
fighter; and the men did all they could to make him tell me of his
battles. They brought an old man in out of the town to see me because
he had fought in the Crimean war, and knew the English. Before it grew
too hot, they took me out to see the barracks and a ramshackle old
fieldpiece which they seemed to idolise. Then followed luncheon with
its long array of Arab dishes, of which the soldiers had their share
eventually. Rashid assured me afterwards that all the food on this
occasion had been 'borrowed.' That was in Abdul Hamid's golden days.
After luncheon, there was coffee with more compliments; and then at
last we got to business.

A public writer was brought in. He wrote out a receipt for me, and
also the discharge Rashid required. Hasan Agha stamped both documents
with an official seal, and handed them to me, who gave him in exchange
the money.

'Bismillah!' he exclaimed. 'I call all here to witness that Rashid,
the son of Ali, called the Fair, is free henceforth to go what way he
chooses.'

To me he said: 'Rashid is a good lad, and you will find him useful.
The chief fault I have found in him is this: that, when obeying
orders, he is apt to think, and so invent a method of his own, not
always good. Also, he is too susceptible to female charms, a failing
which has placed him in some strange positions.'

The last rem