Walker Lake bulletin. (Hawthorne, Nev.) 1883-1926, 1916-07-01


wonderingly all ways land upward)
as they waited, chewing the cud. To
add to the picture, their driver, a
Turk, leaned gracefully against one Of
the glossy beasts, lazily rolling a
cigarette. Besides the feZ, he wore
the short white coat embroidered In
black of the country, loose white trou-
sers and leather slippers. It was hot,
and the color, light and shadow were
sharply defined. Here and there in
the town, turning out of some narrow
street, are small market places, full Of
stalls and baskets and sorrow-stricken
donkeys, where girls from the coun-
try wear handkerchiefs wound over
their heads and thrown gracefully
round their chins, and small boys lie
chattering in the shade. shall never
forget one figure which came clatter-
ing out upon me from the Shadows
crouching figure smothered in white
sheepskins, a white drapery over his
head, beneath him poor little donkey,
staggering under the added load Of
many sacks and baskets. (Oh! the
cruelty of this Near East to animals!
an ignorant, unheeding. cruelty)
Flashing eyes peered at me; strange
wild figure, which one would rather
not meet if alone on hill path.
In the Mohammedan Quarter.
Waiting one day for the Greek
boat, which may come today, or in
three days, or in a week-who shall
say?-I wandered up the hill to the
old Mohammedan town. Such
strange quiet drowses here, after the
hurrying, chattering crowd below!
The narrow road, worn by the rain,
winds between high blank walls and
latticed windows. AS the hill steep
ems, broken steps help the traveller
here and there. Not dog, not liv-
ing thing is to be seen, only a funny
little tub of boy standing at my
feet, peering up at this queer woman,
so unlike his own womankind. A
great wide red sash holds his fat little
person together, and his trousers are
so wide l wonder why he does not
catch one leg in the other.
He has kicked off his funny little
slipper, and rubs one foot against his
leg, wondering whether to run or to
cry. So give him a lepta Greek
soul, and he decides to smile; and
we sit down together under one OF the
delicious aromatic expresses, on
square platform of what were the old
Notifications. He sucks his thumb,
| and look out dreamily over tangled
roofs to the blue, blue Aegean, and
watch the pigeons circling round min
aret above my head. The sound OF
Gathering slippers makes me turn to
see two Turkish women yelled In black
from head to foot, accompanied BY
their servant, basket on arm, going
to shop in the town below. Two or
three Turkish men, going home, no
doubt, or to the cafe for food, come
lazily up the hill, their sashes, red
trousers and tarboosh making lovely
bit of color against the yellow walls.
There are hills outside the town; q
year ago they were covered with tiny
delicate flowers, now, alas! fear, de-
stroyed by the camps and trenches OF
the allies.
The consulates are In the aristocrat-
ic suburbs of Saloniki, where wide
roads and pretty gardens abound.
Here the Greek merchants, too, have
their villas. Beyond these, again. on
the left of the bay, hills and green
sward stretch out to the sea. The
large villa out here where Abdul
Hamid was interned until his very sud-
den death, must have seemed cell to
that poor thing, accustomed to great
palaces. And the garden, beyond
which he was not allowed to stir, Is
small for ordinary mortals Greek
women drive out to these open spaces
to take the air, and the bourgeoisie go
to a wellknown cafe to eat giaourtt
(sour milk or the delicious Sleeps
milk cheese of Greece.