THE SMYRNA FIG AT HOME AND ABROAD 9 



traveling at home, must make a trip abroad before he can fully appreciate the lux- 

 uries of our modern palace cars, as compared with those of Europe. Their small 

 size, lack of cleanliness in the sleepers, as well as the diner, make one long for our 

 magnificent trains at home. 



Passing through Southern Germany, Austria, Hungary, Servia, Bulgaria, and thence 

 through Turkey, Constantinople was reached after forty-two hours travel. It will no 

 doubt be of interest to the reader, to digress somewhat from the subject in hand, and 

 give an idea of the customs and conditions abroad, as well as some interesting experi- 

 ences, which fall to the lot of all travelers. Through Germany, the train sped along 

 at a lively rate, but as it passed through the various countries, to the southeast, it 

 slackened its pace, and when Turkey was reached, a snail would not have envied its 

 movements. 



Being somewhat familiar with the German language, I congratulated myself that I 

 had some one to converse with during my journey. Imagine my surprise, when, in 

 each successive country passed through, the entire train crew was changed. This 

 also necessitated changing money to the denominations of each nation, and in the 

 short space of forty-two hours, four such inconveniences took place. My utter ignor- 

 ance of the language of the several countries, and unfamiliarity with the coins, placed 

 me in a rather awkward predicament, and in paying bills there was no other alterna- 

 tive than to extend a hand filled with money and allow the collector to take what he 

 wanted, by no means a pleasant experience for an American. 



Every one knows that the Turk is a queer fellow, and that his love for his Christian 

 brethren is not seasoned with very much honey. No privileges are extended to the 

 tourist here, and if in his ignorance he transgresses the laws of the country, he pays 

 the penalty either in fines or imprisonment. 



Before reaching the frontier of the Turkish Empire, the conductor in the car in- 

 formed me that it would be necessary to conceal all books and weapons, or they would be 

 confiscated by the custom-house inspector, who was expected to board the train early 

 next morning at a place called Musta Pasha. 



Having hidden all articles, which were thought to be prohibited by the government, 

 I retired with every assurance of being safe from molestation. When my compart- 

 ment was invaded in the early morning, I confidently opened my valises, with every 

 expectation that they would be passed. However, disappointment was my lot, for no 

 sooner were the valises opened than the Turk espied a long black cylindrical object, 

 which attracted his attention. Innocently I pressed a button and, lo, the compartment 

 was flooded with light. My desire to show the gentleman the value and use of the 

 cylindrical tube was the cause of my losing an electric lamp. Through the conductor 

 I learned that the lamp would be returned to me the next day in Constantinople, but 

 although several attempts were made to obtain it through the American consul, it 

 never materialized. Later I learned that all electrical appliances were prohibited 

 from entering the Turkish Empire, and so strict were the regulations that an edict 

 had even been issued preventing the introduction of the typewriter. As a result of 

 this measure, there is not an electric light plant in the entire empire, with one 

 exception, and that is in the Pera Palace, the leading hotel in Constantinople, this 

 plant having been installed before the law went into effect, and by special permission 

 it had been allowed to remain. And why all this foolishness? Simply because a 

 prophet had warned the Sultan that in electricity there lurked danger and that his 

 life was at stake if he allowed electric appliances to be introduced into his domain. 



Having passed through one inspection, I thought my troubles were over, but, to 

 tell the truth, they had only commenced. On alighting from the train in Con- 

 stantinople, I was met by a" delegation of officials, demanding my passport. After 

 asking several questions as to my occupation, et cetera, this was also to my surprise 

 taken away from me, due to my not having it vised before leaving Berlin. To my 



