A EIDE TO BABYLOX. 383 



through the broad light of day perched on the back 

 of a donkey. An Englishman on a donkey is not 

 the " right man in the right place " by any means. 

 He is either possessed with a fit of boisterous merri- 

 ment, as his knees go poking at the backs of the 

 crowd, or else with a nervous dread that sooner or 

 later he must ride over and injure some man, woman, 

 or helpless child. But your true Osmanlee, with the 

 shuffling, humble quadruped beneath him, tilts at the 

 crowd as if only intent as a ruthless Vandal upon 

 destruction and injury, breathing scorn upon your 

 infidel head should he happen to jostle you, and 

 withal proud and defiant, as if he were astride a 

 caparisoned elephant. But, Turk as he was, the 

 Turk we saw that evening was not " equal to the 

 occasion." He had no sooner passed us, his eye 

 fixed on the darkening sky, and abject terror de- 

 picted in every line of his countenance, than he 

 whirled his chibouque high aloft. The bowl flew 

 heaven knows where, but the long cherry stick came 

 down, like avenging fate, sure and swift upon the 

 ribs of the poor donkey. A heavy gust of wind, the 

 precursor of the storm, swept across the bridge, and 

 burst irreverently upon the sacred beard of him that 

 fled, and, as a squall splits a light stun sail, split it 

 into a thousand shreds that went streaming out over 

 his shoulders behind. 



We ourselves hurried home, for we saw plainly 

 that the storm would be upon us in a few minutes. 



