Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1899-10-11
THE TURK AT HOME.
An Industrious Farmer and o Pic
turesQue Figure in the City.
Cnrro onfon Nan vorb C,v,

An Industrious Farmer and o Pic
turesQue Figure in the City.
Correspondence New York Sun.
Tourists stop at Mostar before coming to
| Serajevo Mostar is Mohammedan town
settled by Turks. You realize this as soon
as you arrive, even IL 1t is after dark, for
the Turk is everywhere and you can make
out without difficulty the white minarets
rising from the mosques against the black
sky. In the markets and the shops you get
the best sight a foreigner can of the I'M
speakable Turk, and very curious sight II
is. Imagine a long line of low houses or
sheds raised about two steps above the
street level, with the entire fronts lacking,
and You have a Turkish business street.
Here the Shopkeepers sit crOss-legged be-
hind their wares, smoking long pipes or
cigarettes In holders, and contemplating
would-be purchasers. In the narrow streets
Is mixture Of donkeys, panier-laden,
bringing fruit and merchandise from the
country, soldiers, Montenegrins, Dalma-
t1ans and Bosnians. all pushing and jos
ting along. AS you walk along you see
for the first time a Turkish woman fully
yelled, and an uncanny sight she makes,
being clad in black cloak which reaches
the ground. and has huge hood arrange
ment that projects in front. Within this
hood you see the veil which completely
hides even the eyes of the wearer. Outside
the city, in the country, you see that Turk
ish life is not all cigarettes and black cof-
fee, for to the right and left stretch splen-
did fields of corn and other vegetables all
in fine condition. among which men with
brown arms bare to the shoulders may be
seen toiling, even late in the evening.
There is but one train day from Mostar
to Serajevo. 1t runs at the rate of about
twenty miles an hour and stops everywhere.
AS you wind up through the mountains you
have plenty of time for observation of the
country First it is a land of rock, huge
jagged cliffs. little verdure. and the green
Narenta churnng through gorgeS below
you. After an hour the scene changes,
more vegetation is seen, the Narenta flows
more peacefully. and under it's high banks
are caves, fenced in with interviewer
branches. In these caves the peasants live
with their goats. Next the rough noun
tains have fallen away. the country takes
on more fertile aspect, and you see corn
fields on each side of you, the feathery tops
Of the ripe stalks waving gently in the cool
breeze. After a while you reach little
station the platform crowded with Turks
and Bosnians. while perhaps Greek priest
stands little apart, his long hair done up
like a woman's. The different types of
have been to Mecca, distinguished by the
white and gold turban they wear over their
fezes, the soldiers in their simple red or
white feZ, Christian Turks with white
bands around their feZes, in no way to be
COMPOUNDED with the Bosnian shepherds,
with their red turbans and white shawls
AS the country opens out you can see how
fertile it is and how we'll cultivated. The
hay is piled in neat stacks, the corn grows
in long lines and rows, and the grass Is
kept short as lawn by the feeding cattle
Now and then you pass peasant, thresh-
ing his wheat by driving pair of mules
over it in a circle, and afterward sweeping
away the straw and casting the residue
against the wind so that the wheat falls on
one side and the chaff on the other.
On exploring Serajevo you soon find that
hoe turf, iptnf nvfc Glnn &c Col iAy
the capital of Bosnia; the other is Serajevo,
the Turkish city. The government part OF
Serajevo is like a miniature Paris. 1t has
its tram cars, electric lights. fine buildings
and wide streets. 1t has a miniature Seine,
which Is treated like the river which di-
vides Paris and is crossed by as many
bridges the Seine itself. But this is not
the part of the city the tourist is interested
in. On entering the other Serajevo you find
yourself in a world consisting of narrow,
ill-paved or unpaved streets, open-fronted
shops, and long-eared mules; a world of
strange cries and quaint costumes: in short,
an oriental city. 1t is midday and the sun
is almost overhead hush gradually comes
over the city, cries are less frequent the
panier-laden horses and mules have a rest.
Suddenly from somewhere comes a long
drawn cry which rises and falls until it
dies away, only to be renewed. For min
ute you are in doubt as to what it is; then
you look up and see the priest on the min
aret who is calling the faithful to prayer.
mosque. A large courtyard, surrounded by
high walls, with fountain in the center
lies directly before the mosque, and it is
thronged with good Mohammedans, who
are either washing their feet at the foun-
tain, waiting their turn, or else having
washed are entering the mosque There
are all sorts and conditions of men, from
the ragged shepherd to the dervish who is
distinguished by his long coat and the pc
cullar white turban around his feZ. An
other weird cry bids stragglers hurry, and
the crowd around the fountain thickens
and then decreases, as the men finish their
additions ana walk into the mosque, each
one as he comes to the threshold removing
his shoes. If you peep inside the open door
you can see them standing in long rows
facing the east, and, as you watch, the
prayer begins. Presently the monotonous
chant begins, during various intervals of
which the whole congregation throw them
selves on their faces, and you see nothing
but long lines Of bare feet, soles uppermost.
1t Is all very strange and weird, and you
turn with rather a feeling Of relief to the
busy streets. Here you find yourself
plunged in maze of bewildering streets,
lined with shops containing everything from
meat and tobacco to the finest of silver
work. Bright colored silks catch your eve.
and, as you turn to look, your attention is
caught by some fine bit of brassware which
stands all cleaning from the makers
hands. All the work Is done in these little
shops and If you had time and patience
you might see your purchase made before
your eyes. Fruit is abundant and absurd
ly cheap. You can get all the plums you
can eat for half a cent, and then the Turk
ish coffee! 1t is not till you have tasted
Turkish coffee that you realize its delights.
And so you might go on moving about the
streets, peering into the quaint shops, and
purchasing much more than you ought to;
but If you walk far enough you get away
from the shops and come to the living part
of the town. Here are long, twisted streets,
ill-paved. running up and down hill, lined
with houses, whose closed doors and lat
ticed windows present forbidding front.
Bridge Wrecking by Electricity.
From the Western Electrician
An interesting feat was accomplished in
Clinton, Ind, recently. when the old