still beautiful in its ruins, we hear that a landslip on the line has made traffic impossible for some days to come. In Anatolia, one must be ready to do as the Anatolians; and we are faced with the prospect of a night under the frost-laden skies. There is not even a chair to be found, though "kindness" quickly contrives a seat for me from a pile of logs. Here I can rest awhile; and by brisk walks at short intervals probably keep up my circulation until the welcome dawn. . . .
Someone, however, suggested that we should beg for shelter in one of the luggage-vans already crowded with men and women—naturally, in separate compartments. One thought of the poor villagers we had seen huddled together in their holes on the mountains; and realised that even the floor of a luggage-van may be a "luxury."
Here turban-headed men are sitting on their prayer-carpets, some sound asleep in that uncomfortable attitude, others eating, and others praying, but none uttering a word of complaint.
Looking around for a seat amidst the wilderness of food and bed-clothes, I suddenly hear a few cheery words in English, to my amazement and delight. Here is one of the American Relief Workers, prepared and thankful to spend the night among the strange crowd. With the resourcefulness of his nation, he is provided with a large hat-box that will serve as seat or table, and contains both food and bedclothes. From his "seat," therefore, he quickly extracts some sandwiches of most delicious pea-nut butter, making a cup of tea for me on his "table."
All eyes are drawn to the neat dispatch of these preparations and the marvellous ingenuity of his packing. From that veritable box of Pandora came solid alcohol, tins, kettles, goblets and card-board plates. The food itself was kept in clean, little linen bags.
It was, indeed, a strange lesson in efficiency and practical hygiene, delivered in the wilderness! His unpractical, Eastern neighbour is meanwhile struggling
