Eupatoria, and his wish for a decoration was,
in fact, a wish for some tangible evidence
that he had friends among the English—
friends who might inquire for him if, as
seemed likely, he were again imprisoned after
the war. I saw him at large at Constantinople
towards the end of May in the last
year; but he did not then appear very
tranquil about his future, or very confident
that he should ever again be permitted
to behold his native mountains. If I did
not know him, and purposed travelling
in Syria, I should desire him to be kept
away from that country as long as might be
possible.

Before I had been many minutes seated,
and while servants were still bustling in and
out, with pipes of fragrant tobacco and dishes
of sliced water-melon, an officer entered the
tent and presented to my gaze no less a
marvel than a facial resemblance to the most
mobile-nosed of orators and statesmen. At
any public place in England the resemblance
would have deceived dozens of people, and if
exhibited in a country town the arrival and
the incognito of his lordship would find
speedy place in the local Sentinel or Echo.
The new-comer was a tall, thin, ungainly
man, who moved in military surtout and
overalls with an indescribable air of
discomfort and restraint, and whose long
proboscis writhed again, as if in indignation at
the unwonted confinement of his lower limbs.
This was the second in command. He was
an Algerian Arab, who, after vainly fighting
for the independence of his country, had been
for some time a prisoner in France. If he
spoke truly, and in this particular I had no
reason to doubt his word, he was none other
than Bou Maza, the far-famed lieutenant of
Abd-el-Kader, whose capture was the crowning
exploit of the African campaign of St.
Arnaud. It is certain that he spoke French
passably, that he was a perfect horseman,
and that, with a gun in his right hand, he
had a knack of hitting a sparrow's head,
thrown into the air by his left. Both he and
his chief were sadly addicted to romance;
of the two men, I think the tales of the
subordinate were the more trustworthy.

At the time of which I write, vague
rumours had reached Eupatoria of gross
misconduct, mutiny, and acts of violence on the
part of the Bashi-Bazouks of the Contingent.
These rumours led me at once to question
the Bey and Bou Maza with regard to the
formation and management of the corps under
their command; to ask how the men were
obtained; and how, and in what degree,
they were subjected to control. I learned
that they were all volunteers; having their
own horses and arms, and gathered by
proclamation in towns and villages. They
received rations and forage, something like a
pound sterling per month of pay, were
engaged to serve as long as they were required,
and might be disbanded by the
government at any time. They had no uniformity
of dress or weapons—a sword, a gun,
or a lance, being insisted on as essential, and
everything else left to their fancy or resources.
Their subaltern and inferior officers were
men who had been active in recruiting and
in persuading others to join the standard:
persons so qualified receiving rank according
to the number of followers they brought,
and retaining these followers under their
command. Hence, when Bashi-Bazouks
are wanted, a man of enterprise will often
exert himself among his neighbours, or
will even spend a little money, to induce
them to accompany him, trusting to plunder
or the chances of war to be repaid his
outlay.

Thus Syrians and Africans, Lazes and
Roumelians, Albanians and Bedouins, remain
under the orders of the acquaintance who
persuaded them to join; whom they probably
respect on account of his local position at
home, and to whom their several characters,
histories, and circumstances, are matters of
familiar knowledge. The commandant can
learn from his subordinates the value of each
individual, and the way to treat him. "I
govern my men," said Sifley Bey, "by management.
Some are scoffers, some fanatics—some
liars and cowards, some truthful and brave.
Some I cajole, some I threaten, some I bribe,
some I beat. To one I speak of Paradise, to
another of promotion. With an army around
me, I could govern as I pleased; but, I prefer
the system that I understand—the only system
that would maintain my authority if
there were no army to support it. I do not
think," he added, "that much will be done
with Bashi-Bazouks under European officers;
who, from the very nature of things, cannot
thus influence the men who must be strangers
to their characters and feelings, and who will
try to subject all to the same yoke. The recruits
will not understand the necessity of
submitting themselves; there will be no
veterans to set them an example; the
process of training will be tedious, often
interrupted by outbreaks, and in many cases
unsuccessful. There will be discipline enough
to spoil, irregulars, but not enough to make
soldiers."

The tent occupied by Sifley Bey was little
larger than those used by his men, and was
fitted up with great simplicity. He was
most obsequiously waited upon by a score of
savage-looking fellows, bristling with
weapons, and recognising in his orders their only
notion of right. The man who brought in
pipes, and the man who brought in coffee,
each wore round his waist innumerable
convolutions of shawl, rolled rope fashion, and
supporting pouches of crimson leather,
containing pistols, dirks, yataghans, bullet-bags,
powder-flasks, and ramrods, all more or less
adorned with ivory, coral, and silver. Others,
similarly equipped, were drawn up in the
neighbourhood of the tent; and one of them