A score of soldiers followed after us.
The Captain--Hasan Agha--an old man, with face scarred and heavy white moustache, was in full uniform, and, as I entered, was engaged in putting on a pair of cotton gloves.

He was one of the old 'alaili,' Turkish officers--those whose whole knowledge of their business was derived from service in a regiment or 'alai,' instead of from instruction at a military school; and his manner towards the men had nothing of the martinet.

He addressed them as 'my children,' with affection; and they, though quite respectful, conversed freely in his presence.

Hasan Agha paid me many compliments, and repeatedly inquired after my health.

He would not hear about my business till I had had breakfast.