The infantry presented a more creditable appearance than any I had yet seen, and the encampment generally looked clean and orderly.  Camp life is under no circumstances a very agreeable phase of existence, and least of all in Eastern countries, when divested of the excitement resulting from the probability of an attack.  In other lands there is sure to be something to attract the mind.  Staff officers in gay uniforms pass and repass in all the importance of official haste, cornets of cavalry bent on performing the onerous duties of galloper, and the pompous swagger of infantry drum-majors, all combine to vary the scene and amuse the eye.  But in Turkey this is not so.  All are equally dirty and unkempt, while the hideous attempts at music have very far from a soothing effect.  An attentive listener may hear a single voice four times in the day calling to prayer, a custom which, under no circumstances, is ever omitted.  Of the internal response to this appeal I am of course unable to judge, but from outward appearance I should imagine it to be small.  The Pachas, it is true, indulge in the somewhat unintellectual amusement of twiddling a chain of beads, talking on indifferent subjects the while; but I never observed even this small tribute of respect amongst the inferior officers.  And thus the day wears on in dull monotony, until at sunset a crash of many voices may be heard from the centre of the camp, rising up to heaven, and calling down a blessing on their Sultan’s head.

Immediately upon his arrival at Gasko, Omer Pacha had betaken himself to the only habitable house in the adjacent village, coming down to camp with early morning.  I consequently became the guest of Osman Pacha, who treated me with uniform kindness.  It is a strange coincidence that almost every Turkish Pacha, whatever may have been his origin, however low his moral character, possesses a dignity of deportment and a charm of manner which among Europeans is deemed an infallible test of a kind heart and high breeding.  This, however, does not apply in its full sense to Osman, for a more amiable and moral old gentleman never breathed.  Indeed, I much fear that the good qualities of his heart somewhat eclipsed those of his head, as subsequent events will show.  Many of his remarks, however, were shrewd and pointed enough; thus, while comparing the English with the Turkish soldier, he very candidly admitted that the former carried off the palm in the matter of fighting, with the following reservations—­that the Turk is content to serve with a very considerable arrear of pay, and with very little in the way of clothing or nourishment; that he is able to endure equal if not greater fatigue and hardship; and lastly, that he does not indulge in strong drinks.  All this must be admitted by the most prejudiced arbitrator; nor is it the highest eulogium to which the Moslem soldier is entitled.  Habits of order and obedience, which are only sustained in European armies by the strictest discipline, form