term Prophet.  The Koran specially inculcates kindness to the brute creation, and so thoroughly does the Mussulman obey the mandate that the streets are filled with homeless, masterless dogs, whose melancholy lives Moslem piety will not abridge by water-cure, as in Western lands.  This is the more curious because the dog is an unclean animal, whose touch defiles the true believer.  Therefore no one keeps a dog, or harbors him, or does more than throw him a bone or scraps of food.

Should a camel fall sick in the desert, or break a limb, his master does not mercifully put him out of his pain, but leaves him there to die “when it pleases Allah.”  The same sentiment runs through the whole of Eastern life, and it is notably manifested in religious foundations, which also serve as schools, and in khans or caravansaries, which are the Eastern substitutes for hotels.  The khans had their origin in charity in the good old times of primitive Mohammedanism, before its simplicity was lost by contact with other creeds.  They were wayside buildings intended for the use of commercial travelers or pilgrims, affording shelter from storms and protection from wild beasts, but no further accommodation.  The hospitable doors were ever open, but the apparition of “mine host,” ready to offer you board and lodging for a reasonable compensation, was undreamt of in the early Turkish philosophy.  Every traveler literally “took up his bed and walked “—­or rode—­away in the morning, leaving the room he had tenanted as bare as he found it.  Everybody had to bring his own cooking utensils, provender and materials for making a fire.

What in other countries is left for commercial enterprise to effect for the sake of profit is accomplished here by pious people, who leave legacies for the purpose, and never figure in newspapers, before or after death, as the reward of their munificence or charity.  Many a wayworn traveler has blessed the memory of those truly religious men or women on reaching the rugged walls of a khan after a long day’s ride under a Syrian sun or the pitiless down-pours of rain characteristic of the same region.

Some of these khans on the road to Damascus or other large Eastern cities are spacious buildings, and the scene presented within them when some caravan stops overnight, or several parties of travelers meet there, is picturesque in the extreme.  Everybody wears bright-colored garments and everybody is armed, and the grunt of the camel and bray of the donkey make night, if not musical, certainly most melancholy to the untrained ear.

But innovation has crept in, and the city khan is now a kind of bastard hotel, with a rude host, who makes you pay for your own lodging and the provender of your animal; and as part and parcel of the establishment you also find a coffee-shop, coffee being the primal necessity of Oriental well—­being, taking precedence even of tobacco, which, however, always accompanies it.  There is always a bazaar close by, at which you can purchase savory kibabs of mutton and other cooked food.  Men are no more ashamed to eat in the street than they are to pray there; so you may see multitudes taking their meals al fresco at the hours of morning, midday or sunset, after prayers.