The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1877-06-30
Travelling With an Interpreter.

Travelling With an Interpreter.
At Slatitza, a pretty Bulgarian village,
had fair specimen of the beauties of
travelling with an interpreter who was
also steward and generalissimo of my lit
tie party.
PIANO had been in America, and had
caught some of the smart habits Of that
energetic race; but he had not lost the
habitual dilatoriness of an Ottoman sub
ject. He begged me not to trouble my
self about dinner, as he had made in
quiries; there were fowls to be had, and
in an hour he would have grand meal
ready, consisting Of soup, boiled fowl,
stuffed Cucumbers and melina, a de-
licious Bulgarian pastry. The very
thought of this, after a long days ride
of over fifty miles, was decidedly COM
! forting.
Pano disappeared into the family
haunts of the inn, and | leisurelv I'M
packed my bag, had a comfortable wash
and change, and, as it was lovely even
ing, ! took stroll through the town.
| returned in about an hour and sat
down to read, l was extremely hungry,
but, knowing the customs of the country,
was determined to be patient Time
passed; looked at my watch and found
it was more than two hours since PIANO
had assured me dinner would be ready
in an hour. l therefore inwardly CON
graduated myself that it would soon APP
pear; possibly the fowl was tough and
| required extra boiling.
In about an hour my attention was at
tracted by great hustle outside and an
evident alarm among the poultry, with
sounds as though of missiles flying about.
"What is the matter, Pano?" "Tm
| trying to catch this fowl sir" "What
| fowl?" cob, this fowl for dinner, sir"
He had not even commenced to cook
the dinner, though it was now past
eight o'clock.
But the delay did not end there. When
the fowl was caught, killed and plucked,
it then occurred to them that fire was
necessary to cook it, and sticks had to
be found and blown into flame; and
all this time the khanjee's wife was, of
course, talking vivaciously.
At last, some time after nine o'clock,
the pot was bubbling on the fire, and
smell Of incense waited through the air.
AT ten O'Clock | thought the soup must
be ready, and made my way to see
PIANO was bending over the fire, cleaning
something in a plate. "What are you
doing?" asked. 81 have got some rice,
sir; it's capital in soup, so Pm going to
put some in. Soon We shall have a fine
dinner" Now, rice takes nearly an hour
to boil, and he was deliberately, at ten
o'clock, going to put rice into the soup,
which was then nearly ready. My pa
thence was exhausted, and the pangs of
hunger were strong upon me; so, Selling
the pot, l made off to my room, and
supped off stew and bread, to the great
disappointment of Piano, who would have
| had the whole of his promised course
ready if had waited till past midnight.
This is not an exceptional case, but
rather the rule of dilatory action than
otherwise, and type of the manner in
which the whole administration of the
country, public, private, and domestic,
is carried on.
My trouble with Piano, the interpreter,
was about as great as my ANNOYANCE
with Piano, the caterer. AT the risk of
trying the patience Of my readers, will
give an instance of the difficulties which
| usually Deset me:
am passing a field, and espy crop
which I have never seen before, and a
man working in the field. l call up the
interpreter. PIANO, what is that grow
ing there?" 81 don't know, sir" ASK
that man, and find out all about it," He
talks to the man for about ten minutes.
"Well, what does he say?" "He saws,
sir, that he plants little seeds and it
grows like that" "Does he give it to
his horses or cattlc?" Another long talk
now takes place, and the answer comes
at last: "No he does not give it to his
cattle" what does he do with it
them" More talk Gle says it is a
| little white seed. Sort of brown color"
"Well, what does he do with it?" A
very long conversation, carried on in
crescendo tones, and which became very
excited. Now we shall have it: "He
says, sir, that there is little oil in that
seed" "Well, what does he do with the
oil?" Talk. "He sells the OIL" do
people burn the oil?" Talk. No, he
says the people do not burn the OIL"
"What do they do with it," Talk.
"He says they eat the oil" "What is
the name of it," Talk. "He says they
call it different names" What is it
generally called?" Talk. "He says it's
sometimes called Sesame" He then
plunges into violent conversation, until
you would suppose quarrel brewing,
and at last says: "This man says that
cattle are very fond of that"
This leads to a new line of inquiry,
and at last, out of all the answers, l
learn that the plant is called Sesame;
that it is grown for its seed, which is
made into oil; that this oil is eaten with
various kinds of food; that the refuse is
given, in the forln of "oil-cake," to cat
tie; that it is a summer crop, and profita-
ble.-COL Bakers Book on Turkey.