to sneak in and out mysteriously, and to pull
about the things of the ruined man. I
feel very much disposed to trip up one
young gentleman, whose pockets are
fuller than they should be, with the crook
of my walking-stick. But I am by no
means sure that he is not the son or brother
of somebody present; or in league with the
auctioneer, or the bankrupt, or the principal
creditor, or one of the primates of the place.

For the rest I begin to understand also
that the auctioneer is not likely to resume his
labours for the present. The talk will go on
till dinner-time; then the talkers will
disperse. To-morrow is the Greek feast of
the Forty Martyrs; next day is the
Turkish Sabbath (our Friday); the
following day is the festival of St. Somebody;
the next is Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath;
then comes Sunday; nobody likes to do
anything particularly on Monday, while Tuesday
and Wednesday are both saints' days. On
Thursday everybody will stay at home sobering,
and then again follow the three Sundays!
By which time I know very well that everybody
will have forgotten all about the sale,
just as much as if it had been an affair of the
last century. Should they remember it, I am
not quite clear that the matter will be mended.
The bankrupt's goods are in a ruined shed.
They will not be locked up— they will be
nailed up. To-morrow morning or the morning
afterwards, the shed will be found open.
Something will be said about a robbery; this
will supply a great deal of energetic talk; and
afford an excellent opportunity for abusing
the Turkish authorities. Those who know a
great deal more about the robbery than they
would care to own, will be the loudest in this
abuse— and there the matter will end. So let
it be! Everything is settled in this way in the
East. Why should the sale of a bankrupt's
effects be an exception to the general rule?
Delay hangs like a mist over everything
and everybody. Nothing ever terminates,
and if I were asked to describe the general
state of affairs in the East in one word, the
word I should use would be Muddle.

I asked a person I met in my afternoon
ride, what might have been the circumstances
of the bankrupt whose property I had
seen so wantonly damaged and pilfered. The
substance of what I heard, is worth recording,
as illustrative of another phase of manners
in Turkey.

The bankrupt had been a prosperous
man until he married a widow of considerable
landed property. This had been his
ruin; and a very snug and comfortable ruin
it was— but still a ruin. He had fancied the
property of his wife would be improved by
laying out a little money upon it. The idea
was natural: it was also correct. For this
purpose, therefore, the trader borrowed a
small amount, and had little difficulty in
finding it, for he offered the security of his
next year's growth of olives. " Stay," said
the money-lender, " as you have olives I will
not lend you money. I will buy your olives.
It will make the transaction simpler." It did
not make the transaction simpler, however.
When the time came for the olives to
be delivered to the buyer, they did not
happen to be grown. A. winter of severe
cold had destroyed the olive trees by hundreds,
and the trees of the debtor had not put forth
a leaf. He offered, however, to repay the
borrowed money. " Pray, don't trouble yourself
about me," said the obliging money-
lender; " it is not money you owe me; it is
olives. To be sure I bought your fruit
rather cheap; but, if I had it, I would make
an immense sum in the present scarcity. I
want the olives, therefore, not the money."
"Impossible." "Well, then; suppose we fancy
that I have the olives, and that you want to
buy them, they will cost you so many piastres at
the current price. To be sure it is nearly five
times what I lent you, but you need not hurry
yourself about payment— we shall merely
have to add the interest, and you can give me
a bond for the whole." So the affair is settled,
and the discomfited debtor finds himself in
the position of hundreds of others. He has
been borrowing at an interest of about six
hundred per cent.; and his ruin is sealed.
He knows this; but he is a Greek, and has
all the trickery and cunning of that people
born with him. He will be ruined, indeed; but
he will contrive even to turn his ruin to
account. He will improve and beautify his
wife's property until it becomes the wonder of
the neighbourhood. He will buy everything
that is to be sold, and dispose of it again at
any price, to obtain the money he requires.
What money he does not want he will hide or
bury. He will carry on a wholesale system of
swindling for the next year; and the Frank
merchants will suffer most. One fine morning
he will declare himself a bankrupt, rub his
hands, chuckle a little, and leave his creditors
to fight out their differences. He will
have no books or accounts. He will answer
no questions, and there is no law to make
him. He will acknowledge, indeed, that it
is a bad business for somebody; but, as
far as he is concerned, he knows nothing
at all about it, and washes his hands of
the whole transaction. His property
belongs to his wife, and though he has
improved it with other people's money, nobody
can touch it. By and by, in some roundabout
way, the Greek money-lender will
of course contrive to be paid, but nobody
else will. In a few years, or perhaps
sooner, my friend will set up in the same
line of business again, and live in the
odour of sanctity until he gets into a
scrape again; and then he will contrive to
get out of it, in some equally felicitous and
honest manner.

The fact is, there is no law in Turkey
which may not be evaded by an
ingenious man. Some trumpery present will