Those first marches, before we joined the main army, were for us, who were mounted, pleasant enough.  Taking advantage of any clump of trees which we might encounter—­and these were not very numerous—­the halt would sound, and in an incredibly short space of time coffee and pipes would be served to the General, his Secretary, and myself, the staff forming themselves into a group a few paces distant.

During these halts children or curious adults would be seen peeping from behind the trees, bent on catching a glimpse of the Serdar Ekrem.  I noticed that he never missed an opportunity of conversing with the country people, who would tremblingly obey his summons to come and receive ‘Bakshish,’ until reassured by his kind tone and gentle manner.

In thus speaking of Omer Pacha’s moral qualities let me not be mistaken:  I do not wish to infer that he possesses a very refined mind, still less that he is gifted with those elements which go to form the philanthropist; but that which he does possess is much good nature, a long-headed shrewdness, which shows him the policy of toleration, and a general disposition to support the weak against the strong.  Thus, if he has been accused of squeezing the faithful subjects of His Imperial Majesty the Sultan, I venture to say that these attentions on his part have been devoted entirely to those whom he knows to have amassed money by grinding extortion, and thus he pays them off in their own coin.

On the night of the 15th we halted in a small encampment about five hours beyond Stolatz, where tents were already pitched for our reception.  Here one of those sights met our view so characteristic of the country, and so unlike anything one is accustomed to see in regular armies.  A certain amount of hay and barley had been collected, and, having been warned to do so by one of the staff, I ordered my servant to push on ahead, that he might make sure of a portion of the spoil.  On my arrival I went down to watch operations, and vastly amusing it was to see the scuffle which was going on—­black servants, privates of dragoons, and staff officers all helping themselves in a manner that would have wrung the heart of the most generous forage contractor or commissariat officer.  Here I discovered the sort of stuff of which my servant, a Dalmatian, was made.  Some one, it appears, had told him, with what truth I know not, that a party of Greek Christians had lately made an incursion into this very camp, killing several Turks.  This, and the reports of a few muskets, so completely unmanned him, that he stoutly declared his intention of remaining awake during the night; and it was only by allowing him to lie in the tent by my side that I could induce him to try and sleep.  The abject cowardice of this youth on subsequent occasions gave me but a poor impression of the modern Dalmatian—­an idea which was confirmed by the conduct of his successor, who was, if possible, a more pitiable poltroon than Michaele.  That the position of a servant whose master was without bed or coverlet was not particularly enviable, I am ready to admit, and many a time did he come to complain of incipient starvation; but at the moment it was difficult to make allowance for these little inconveniences, which were common to us all.