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way in which the Phanar has joined hands with the sultans in oppressing the peoples and Churches of the peninsula which employed other languages than Greek. No doubt, too, we have failed to give an adequate notion of the way in which different races and creeds are inextricably mingled in Macedonia and elsewhere. We may also have insufficiently emphasized the attractions which Constantinople possesses for Russia, the reality of her interests there, and the extent of the influence which, taught by experience, she is likely to exert, first, over Bulgaria (now that Stambouloff is gone), and, second, through Servia and Montenegro. Moreover, no allowance has been made for the unexpected, which is always happening in the Balkans. And leave can hardly be taken of the Dream-Empire without a word about its emperor. Who should he be? The Servian princely stock is hardly likely to produce the man; Montenegro is only a Duchy in the Confederation; it is improbable that Bulgaria would accept the rule of the Greek royal house, or that Greece would approve of a Bulgarian czar. Roumania is left. The Italians and the Germans found their emperor in their "farthest north." Would the peoples of the Balkans, if the Federation were ever constituted, do the same?

may be, why should Russia-with her new "Secret Treaty" too-consent to forego her claims? If the Russian claims did not exist, would Europe refrain from insisting on making Constantinople a free and neutral port under a Senate? With regard to Austria and Salonica, no one seems to have considered the matter in the light of its probably coming up for settlement at a time when the firm hand of the Emperor Francis Joseph will be no longer guiding the destinies of the dual kingdom, when Magyar protests against further additions being made to the Slav population of the empire may have weight, and when it might be thought a wise defensive measure to form a strong and friendly Servia by helping her down to the sea, as well as by handing over to her those Orthodox portions of Bosnia and the Herzegovina, the peoples of which now draw their inspiration from Belgrade and Cettinje. On this last point Mr. Thomson, in his fresh and interesting book on "The Outgoing Turk" (Heinemann), quotes appositely Gibbon's remark on the Emperor Aurelian's abandonment of Dacia: "His manly judgment convinced him of the solid advantages, and taught him to despise the seeming disgrace of thus contracting frontiers of the monarchy." Should the Austrians (and the Jews, who are in great strength in Salonica!) not press their claims, there is no saying to whom the city will fall. The Bulgarians (whose pretensions in Macedonia were of course fully acknowledged in the abrogated Treaty of San Stefano) may prove to have the strongest backing.

the

But it is a far cry from this squab bling over the division of a territory which is so far from being available for distribution that at the moment it is being held down by the full strength of the Turkish army, to the coming into being of the Dream-Empire of the Balkans. And how many thorny questions have been calmly ignored in this article! Not a word upon the religious question, upon the bitter feelings entertained against Greece on account of the

From The Saturday Review. "THOSE WHO LOVE ALLAH!" Junes Effendi, a divisional commander, it seems, in the Turkish army was not on the Thessalian frontier, known to fame until the beginning of It has fallen to him, howthis war. ever, to crystallize into a few words, shouted aloud above the din of battle, the great fact which once again confronts Christian Europe-the existence in unimpaired strength and spirit of the Turkish fighting man.

The incident which led Junes Effendi to make his little speech to the men of in the achis division is contained

counts of the fighting in the Malouna the Turks, through the ruined village, Pass telegraphed to London by the cor- up the Russian slope. A terrific infanrespondents of Reuter's Agency and of try fire opens upon them. It is clearly the Daily Mail. Here it is, as given in impossible for them to advance up to the Daily Mail:"— the earthworks; but, clinging to the hill in two steadfast lines, they hold their ground. And when night fell they were still on the hillside. We could see the flashes of their rifles on the now dark background, making a belt of fire along the slope. An aide-decamp is sent to fetch them back. 'We are all right,' said the officer in command. 'We can hold on here all night.' A more peremptory summons was sent, and at last they came back. 'I have never seen such devoted bravery,' said Valentine Baker to the writer; 'anything could be done with such troops if those who handle them knew how to do it.' The battle of Cherkovna was a defeat for the Turk; but it afforded ample proof of the un

"For thirty-six hours the Turks fought, without sleep, food, or drink. Soldiers could not be more severely tested. And yet they responded cheerfully to every call of their officers. Towards evening two battalions of Junes Effendi's division, dusty, fainting, and battle-worn, were ordered to charge the Greeks with the bayonet. Junes Effendi knew his men. He stepped forward and shouted to them, "Those who love Allah will advance against the infidel!' With irresistible enthusiasm the men dashed forward. They swept down the hill in order. Even the mule-drivers and the men of the baggage-train joined them in a wild frenzy of patriotism"-and carried the position at the point of the daunted valor of the Turkish private bayonet. soldier."

Just twenty years ago the writer of this article, then also a war correspondent, was standing at the edge of a Bulgarian hillside watching the varying fortunes of a desperate battle -the last which was fought by Mehemet Ali's army in the attempt to relieve Plevna-and he wrote of what he saw as follows:

"From a spur of the ridge we had a complete view of the battle-field. The bare hill opposite, held by the Russians, lay immediately before us, and we could see their gunners blazing away from six earthworks. Suddenly there is a movement in the hollow behind our central battery; the two columns massed there, who have been so patient under the ricochet fire of the Russians, advance steadily. As they reach the top of the slope the bugle sounds, the columns open out and the whole line with a fierce shout of ‘Allah! Allah!' disappears over the brow. We ride forward to watch. A tremendous salvo of artillery greets the advancing Turks; the side of the slope is shattered and torn by bursting shells, and we see scores of gallant men rolling down dead or wounded. Down go

No

That was in 1877, when for so many months the Turks withstood the whole power of Russia and Roumania. one who was present with the Turkish armies during that stupendous campaign can ever lose the impression there formed that the Turkish soldier -Nizam, Redif, or Mustafuz-is a fighting man of the first order. Those who thus knew him smiled, therefore, when, not long ago, the Turkish army on the frontier of Thessaly was described as being "ragged, badly shod, and ill fed." Ragged? But beneath the rags are healthy bodies and limbs, untouched by disease, hardened by strict and

austere abstemiousness, strengthened by a lifetime passed in the open air. Badly shod? What of that if with feet wrapped in strips of linen, and shod with rough sandals, the man can march thirty miles a day without getting footsore? Ill fed? But can a man be said to be ill fed when he has what he wants, what he is accustomed to a handful of rice or beans, and a bit of bread, with a scrap of meat added, if possible? On such fare, with water for his drink, the Turkish soldier will march and fight

Junes Effendi knew how to let slip his dogs of war.

It is interesting to observe that, to judge from the reports of the correspondents with the Turkish army, the Turkish army in the field is behaving itself properly in the moment of victory. We have not heard of any murdering of the wounded or mutilation of the dead. Is it the influence of the German instructors of the Turks that has eradicated the strong propensity to commit these barbarities? I think not. The propensity is there, must be there, still. The slaying of an enemy, wounded or not, and especially of a Christian enemy, is a pleasure to an Oriental; the mutilation of his body is no atrocity. Originally the heads of the slain were cut off by the victors for the convenience of counting. The modern Osmanli has simply inherited the habit from his ancestors. It is perfectly natural to him to cut off the head of a dead enemy. Strange, therefore, does it seem to us who saw the hideous deeds of 1877 to read in the papers of to-day that the Turks after their victories in the Malouna Pass "treated the Greek dead with reverence, and laid them in the shade." We can hardly believe our eyes as we read it.

for months together, content with his rags and his rations, and not clamor ing for pay. Was not Valentine Baker right in saying that such men, well led, would do anything? That was the great want in the Turkish army of 1877-leaders. With the exception of Osman of Plevna, there was hardly a single general on the Turkish side worthy to command such magnificent material. This cry for leaders for the Turks was echoed, years after, by Mr. S. Lane-Poole when he wrote: "There are some who believe in a great Mohammedan revival with the Sultan Khalif at the head-a second epoch of Saracen prowess and a return to the good days when Turks were simple, sober, honest; men who fought like lions. There is plenty of such stuff in the people still; but where are their leaders?" The question finds more ready answer now than it did twenty years ago. There are leaders for the Turks now, thanks to the creator of the modern Turkish army, His Im perial Majesty the German emperor, who has done more for the "Mohammedan revival" than any other man. Captain Lebrun Renaud of the French army, who has made the military power of Turkey a study, says of it: "Every day the Ottoman army is making serious progress; it is recruited with regularity; it is well armed; its manœuvres are based upon correct rules; new railways enable its rapid mobilization; it is in a condition to meet eventualities from Karahassan Nedjib Pasha, who comwithout."

"Eventualities from without"-in plain English, the possible partition of the Turkish Empire. None know better than the German officers who have assisted in the reorganization of the Turkish army since 1880-Koehler and Kamphoevener, Von Hobe, Ristow, Schilgen, and Von de Goetz--how splendid is the fighting material which is the mainstay of the Turkish Empire; those ragged Nizams and Redifs who go into battle mocking at death, cursing the Giaour, and breathing the name of God. "Those who love Allah will advance to the attack of the infidel!'

Here by way of contrast is an extract, from a stained and battered notebook of 1877, under the date "Karahassan, September:"

"During the assault on the village of

manded the main attack, was standing beneath a tree. His victorious battalions were raging through the streets, maddened by the desperate defence offered by the Russians. Suddenly one of the soldiers ran out of the ranks holding aloft the head of a Russian impaled on his bayonet.

"God is great, pasha!' he shouted, making straight for Nedjib. 'Behold the head of an infidel!'

"Then, lowering his rifle, he drew the head off against his foot and left it there on the ground in front of his commander as a war offering. Nedjib, a humane and enlightened man, turned

madman

away with an angry exclamation of on high, and with a fierce cry of 'Aldisgust; whereupon the soldier, nowise lah! Allah! went on like a down the blazing street."

abashed, promptly ran his bayonet through the head again, brandished it

How Russia Amuses Itself. If I were asked to state what a Russian schoolboy does with his spare time after working hours are over, I should be much puzzled what to say.

Unfortunately young Russia has not the faintest glimmering of knowledge of the practice or even of the existence of such things as football, cricket, fives, rackets, golf, athletic sports, hockey, or any other of the numerous pastimes which play so important a part in the life of every schoolboy in this merry land of England. Therefore there is no question, for him, of staying behind at the school premises after working hours, in order to take part in any game. He goes home; that much is certain; most of his time is loafed awaythat, too, is beyond question. He may skate a little perhaps, in the winter, if he happens to live near a skating ground, but he will not go far for it; and in the summer, which is holiday time for him from June till September, he walks up and down the village street, clothed in white calico garments, or plays cup and ball in the garden; fishes a little, perhaps, in the river or pond if there happen to be one, and lazies his time away without exertion. Of late years "lorteneece," as lawn tennis is called in the czar's country, has been slightly attempted; but it is not really liked; too many balls are lost, and the rules of the game have never yet been thoroughly grasped. A quartet of men will occasionally rig up their net which they raise to about the height of a foot and a half, and play a species of battledore and shuttle-cock over it until the balls disappear; but it is scarcely tennis. As a matter of fact a Russian generally rushes at the ball and misses it; on the rare occasions when he strikes the object, he does so with so much energy that the ball, unless stopped by the adversary's eye, or his partner's, disappears forever into "the blue." Croquet is a mild favorite,

WENTWORTH HUYSHE.

too; but it is played very languidly and unscientifically.

Well do I remember a scene at the custom-house some years-a good many years, I fear-ago! I was a schoolboy at the time, and had arrived from England in order to spend the summer holidays in Russia. Among my impedimenta was a box of croquet paraphernalia which I had been commissioned to bring out for an English resident. At that time the game was as yet unknown to the country, and the custom-house authorities on opening the box retreated in horror and alarm when they beheld its awe-inspiring contents. Instruments of assault, bombs, mysterious weapons of every kind were contained in that awful box

not one of them would go near it! Amid exclamations of warning and horror I drew forth one of the bombs and placed it upon the ground; then a second; to the accompaniment of cries of terror and consternation I took from the case a terrible weapon (known to croquet players as a mallet), and to the inexpressible alarm of all present I commenced a little exhibition game of croquet upon the floor of the customhouse in order to demonstrate the uses of the various implements. As the hoops could not well be utilized on the wooden boards these innocent articles were gravely suspected. I believe the officials took them to be boomerangs of a novel and peculiar description, and the whole box was consequently detained for further and fuller investigation. I believe they sunk it in deep water and sent down a scientifically disposed diver to inspect it in safety. My friends got their croquet set eventually, but the balls bore marks of careful testing: those officials had felt sure they were bombs, and had done their very best to convict them of containing dynamite.-F. Wishaw in Chambers's Journal.

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