But  I  wander  too  far  from  our  village,  from  that  larger
part  of  it  which  the  exigencies  of  space  must  long  ago
have  pushed  northward  out  of  the  castle  close  into  the
underlying  valley.  There  are  those  who  deprecate  our
streets,  their  many  steps,  the  manner  of  their  paving,
the  irresoluteness  with  which  they  proceed  to  their  des-
tined ends,  and  the  desultoriness  of  their  illumination  at
night.  I,  however,  am  partial  to  a  Gothic  irregularity,
and  I  applaud  the  law  which  admonishes  us  not  to  go
abroad  two  hours  after  sunset  without  a  lantern.  We
do  not  take  the  admonition  too  seriously,  but  there  are
chances  enough  of  breaking  our  necks  on  moonless  nights
to  maintain  a  market  among  us  for  paper  lanterns.
These,  with  the  candles  flaring  in  front  of  sacred  tombs
and  the  casual  window  lamplight  so  pleasingly  criss-
crossed by  lattices,  make  Whistler  nocturnes  for  us  that
they  may  never  know  who  dwell  in  the  glare  of  electricity.
If  I  find  anything  to  deprecate  it  is  the  tendency
gaining  ground  among  us  to  depart  from  the  ways  of  our


A  TURKISH  VILLAGE  393

fathers  in  the  matter  of  domestic  architecture.  The
jig-saw  and  the  paint  pot  begin  to  exercise  their  fatal
fascination  upon  us  who  were  so  long  content  with  simple
lines  and  the  colour  of  weathered  wood.  But  the  pert
gables' of  the  day  are  still  outnumbered  by  square  old
many-windowed  houses  with  low-pitched  roofs  of  red
tiles  and  corbelled  upper  stories  inherited  from  the  Byzan-
tines. Under  the  eaves  you  will  often  see  a  decorative
text  from  the  Koran,  framed  Hke  a  picture,  which  insures
the  protection  of  heaven  better  than  premium  or  poHcy.
