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 "If Mr. Chester of the U.S. has come here to sweep away all this he is an enemy of Art.

"I love creature comforts—warmth, baths, and perfumes, but I sincerely trust no fever of reform will ever induce the Turks to spoil their surroundings; and, above all, that they will never call in American specialists to teach them building achievements. By all means let them adopt American hygiene; but American architecture, God forbid!

"I will pay honour where honour is due. To all who have so nobly perpetuated the work of Florence Nightingale I bow the knee. But what will American innovations do for Turkey?

"In the East End of New York, America's melting-pot, I once saw a picturesque old Jew reading Spinoza in the original, as he sat absorbed on the sidewalk. His velvet cap was old and shabby, the long grizzly beard maybe none too clean; but in the primitive robes of his ancient race he looked a true Oriental.

"Then appeared his 'American son'—a 'Bowery' accent, many smart rings, a costly gold watchchain across his brightly-coloured waistcoat, spats and patents, and a 'time is money' expression on his alert face. Which of the generations would you prefer?

"If the Turk ever asks our advice, I sincerely hope no 'counsels from Europe' will ever replace the artistic traditions of the East Europeanised Turks are not the 'best' Turks.

"You have already, alas, in the Hippodrome at Constantinople, that cheap, 'made in Germany' monstrosity of a fountain, which the once-mighty Emperor William bequeathed to you as the 'souvenir' of a visit to 'his brother,' Abdul Hamid! Why has war left it untouched?"

It was a strange comfort to compare the happy faces of these men with those one knew under the late Sultans. In those days, two or three meeting together in a café were always in fear of arrest as "suspects."