Before quitting the army, I would fain pay a passing tribute to the good qualities of the Turkish soldiers.  Having seen them under circumstances of no ordinary difficulty and privations, I found them ever cheerful and contented with their unenviable lot.  Uninfluenced by feelings of patriotism—­for such a word exists not in their language—­unaffected by the love of glory, which they have not sufficient education to comprehend, the only motives by which they are actuated are their veneration for their Sultan and the distinctive character of their religion.  It would be well for their Sultan did he appreciate the sterling military qualities of his people.  With good management and honest reform, an army might be created which, if inferior in materiel to those of certain European powers, would in the matter of personnel be sufficiently good to render the Turkish dominions perfectly secure from hostile invasion, which is now very far from the case.  At present, unfortunately, his whole attention is devoted to the manning and equipment of the navy, for the amelioration of which large sums of money are paid and heavy debts incurred.  The visionary character of his ambitious projects on this head is apparent to all but himself, since the Turkish navy can scarcely be expected ever to attain more than a fifth or sixth-rate excellence.  The recent changes in the dress of the army betoken that some attention has been devoted of late to the subject.  Nothing can be more desirable than an assimilation of the uniform to the natural style of costume; and the loose Zouave dresses of the army of the Turkish imperial guard[R] are not only better adapted to soldiers who do not indulge in the luxury of beds and the like, than the tight-fitting garments heretofore in use, but present a far more workmanlike appearance, for the simple reason that they understand better how to put them on.

After a month’s sojourn in the tents of the Osmanlis, the rapid shortening of the days warned me of the necessity for pushing on if I wished to see the more peaceable portion of the country, before the snows of winter should render travelling impossible.  Already the day had arrived when the first fall of snow had taken place in the previous year.

Despite the hardships indispensable from the kind of life we had been living, it was with much regret that I bade farewell to my hospitable entertainers, and started once more on my solitary rambles.  For the first day, at least, I was destined to have company, as the Pacha of Bosnia’s private Secretary was about to return to Bosna Serai, having fulfilled a mission on which he had been sent to the camp of the Commander-in-Chief.  My object was to return to Mostar by way of Nevresign, which, as well as being new ground to me, forms a portion of the projected line of defence.  After waiting no less than five hours and a half for an escort of Bashi Bazouks, who, with true Turkish ideas of the value of time, presented