Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1915-05-08
Meet Scowling Looks.


ton
Meet Scowling Looks.
Once upon the dock the tourist is
conscious that it is long, long way
to the steamer, which lies some dis
lance out from the shore, as the con-
fused babble of tongues greets the ear
and the scowling looks cast upon the
visitor make him well aware that he
has left civilization and safety behind
him in his characteristic American de-
sire to take in the whole show" as
1t is usually described
1t is almost with a sense of relief
that an individual is seen approach
ing. He bows obsequiously and glibly
announces: 81 spik Eengleesh I
guide"
At once his services are gladly Sc
cured, but unfortunately 1t is soon evil
dent his knowledge of the English Ian
guage is limited to the few phrases
with which he introduced himself, and
his French, the traveller finds, is as ex-
ecrable as his own.
However, when one is in Turkey,
and in Asiatic Turkey at that, it is
the part of wisdom to take things as
they come without making any I'M
necessary commotion. The glances
cast upon the 'giours" are usually far
from friendly or reassuring, and the
visitor to Dardanelles becomes soon
convinced of the foolishness of his ac-
ton in insisting upon going ashore in
the face of the just warning from the
who frankly advised him to remain on
board, as it was pleasanter and safer
to view Dardanelles from the deck of
the steamer.
| But once ashore it is impossible to
leave for even if the voyager was able
to request to be taken back to the
steamer it would not be wise to do SO.
Consequently the best thing to do is
to appear to enjoy the sights OF Oar
danelles immensely, and show as great
appreciation as possible for the mar
velous1y hideous earthenware manu-
| featured in Tchanak Kalesi and solo
| in the dark, little Turkish shops OF
the town. AS every visitor to Turkey
we'll knows, the sultan's subjects man.
ufacture almost nothing, for which no
regret is felt when the awful speci'
mems made at Dardanelles are seen.
Like a Greek Town.
The better part of Dardanelles has
much the appearance of a small Greek
town. The hotels, shops and open-a1r
cafes all have signs printed in Greek,
and the principal street is known as
''The Street of the Greek Church" OK
| teams are often encountered, lumber
ing slowly along, and there are num-
erous NANCY ours of the same fierce
mongrel type which formerly infested
Constantinople. They are half starved
and snap menacingly at strangers, Sc
a promenade in Dardanelles is rather
| too exciting for comfort. The streets
are filled with children, some of whom
look like miniature men and women
tiny puppets in baggy green silk
| trousers or in full-hounced, gorgeously
colored silk dresses, the sons and
daughters of the well-to-do Turkish
officials, but the far greater number
are forlorn little creatures, ragged and
dirty, who look not only neglected but
half famished.
A warning blast from the steamer
tells the voyager it is time to return.
A hasty return is made to the dock,
but the official with the travellers
precious passport is nowhere to be
seen. At last, after what seems an
endless delay, the gentleman is found,
and when, after a diligent search
through innumerable papers, he final
ly discovers the missing document the
smiling gentleman is gladly given a
generous gratnity for all his trouble
by the anxious traveller. who gives one
long sigh of relief when once more
safely aboard the steamer.