at 10 in the morning, which actually started about 5 P.M.! We had first attempted to find room in a third-class compartment with a French colonel, a Turkish officer, and two servants. But Europeans, even in Asia Minor, are seldom inclined to be accommodating, and my "ally" (!) diplomatically expressed his desire to be left alone in his glory. "You will be much more comfortable, my dear madam, in a less crowded carriage. I fear you could not even find a seat among all these officers, and, at least, fifty boxes." We were not slow to take the hint.
However, there is no sign of being able to leave the station for some hours, and the sun is shining for a change. Everyone, naturally, prefers the platform; and having learnt, it appears, that I am not married to either the cheik or the Turkish officer, the colonel approaches me with renewed curiosity. When I explain that I am English, he simply answers: "You mean American?"
"The one Frenchman and the one Englishwoman in Anatolia," was my retort, "have met by chance at a wayside railway station, and you will not even allow me to enter your carriage. Are you really French?"
"I should be delighted and honoured if you will come and talk to me," was the would-be gallant reply, "but I have twenty boxes" (he has quickly disposed of thirty). "I thought at first you were a lady of sixty."
"And numbered your boxes to match my years! I see; after all, you must be French!"
The cheik told me that Afioun means "opium," and Karahissar is the centre of that trade, completely paralysed for the moment. When I had tea with Dame Rachel Crowday at the League of Nations in Geneva, I heard that Turkey desired to join the Opium Convention, a striking instance of public spirit in a country that needs all the money it can possibly lay hands on; but the moral welfare of her people counts for more than "profit" to the State. M. Kemal Pasha, indeed,
