CHAPTER XV. 
A VISIT TO THE BAZAARS. 
It is a strange life here—half-civilized, half-savage. One 
lives in such an atmosphere of Orientalism that he uncon¬ 
sciously becomes Oriental in his habits, and smokes chiboucks 
and drinks muddy coffee as a matter of course. If it were not 
for the civilizing influence of hotels, I believe we Frangi should 
soon he Turks, even in our dress and the luxury of laziness. 
No traveler considers himself completely initiated into the 
mysteries of Oriental life till he has suffered scalding and 
strangulation in a Turkish bath, purchased a fez, and smoked 
himself sick at a narguilla. When he has done all this, and 
learned to go about the bazaars alone, and say Kats grosh ? 
or, What does it cost ? he may congratulate himself upon hav¬ 
ing mastered the rudiments of Turkism. If he can double up 
his legs and squat like a tailor, it will be all the better, as he 
will be invited to sit on the floor whenever he visits a native 
house. Some of the pashaws, indeed, are getting Frankified 
in their notions, and keep two or three chairs for their guests; 
but this is an exception to the general rule. For three weeks 
I have labored hard to surmount these difficulties, and now I 
pride myself on being a very respectable Turk—in outward 
show at least, for I should be sorry to say any thing about 
morals. I have been thoroughly boiled out of my skin in a 
public bath; have suffered my beard to grow till I can swear 
by it; smoked narguillas till I came within an ace of getting 
the delirium tremens; and purchased a fez, which I wear two 
hours every night before going to bed. in the hope of conquer¬ 
ing a certain bashfulness which yet prevents me from appear¬ 
ing with it in public. Sitting cross-legged on the floor was 
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