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This was no signalling, this was open hostilities; and had the encampment been in a right line with us, we should, assuredly, not have escaped so easily. No bullet had as yet struck us, but unless the fellows ceased firing we should inevitably be hit. I supposed there was some mistake (for how else would they fire at a Turkish boat), so I ordered my men to row straight to the foot of the mountain while I waved my white handkerchief as a signal of amity. Possibly this was not noticed by the Arnauts, possibly they regarded it as a demonstration, for they fired again, and I distinctly felt a blow in the folds of my cloak just above my right arm. My cloak was fearfully torn; two well-aimed bullets had passed through the folds of my cloak and the sleeve of my coat, and fell on the mat at my feet; a quarter of an inch deeper, an inch more to the right, and they would have been in my arm or side. At the same time, three other bullets whistled through the sail.

This was evidently past a joke; and so to prevent another salvo, our author seized an oar, and pulled as hard as he could towards the rock. This stopped any further hostilities, for when the Arnauts saw the boatmen obeyed their polite invitation, some twenty of them rushed noisily down the hill. The boat had just reached the bank, when our author heard a hollow sound from the Wallachian bank; one of the six Russian cannon up the river Aluta had been fired, but was badly aimed, for the ball struck against the rocks and fell with a splash in the river. The affair was now growing serious; and the Arnauts on the bank were the wildest ragamuffins M. Wachenhusen had ever had the misfortune of seeing anywhere out of a prison. The reception he met with was far from agreeable: four or five hands seized him by the collar, shouting, "Moscov Giaur!" and dragged him out of the boat. A blow from the butt-end of his pistol, given to the tallest of the band, caused the others to keep at a more respectful distance, and the fortunate idea of producing the bottle of rakih occasioned an armistice. Our author was then handed over to the charge of a redif corporal, and off they started for Nikopoli, where M. Wachenhusen was immediately set at liberty. But here he was as badly off as before; the Pacha could not, or would not, give him horses to continue his journey, and the kaïkjis refused to take him further in their boat. The following extract is an amusing instance of the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties:

At last I was told that close to the shore lived a Tartar who spoke "Frankish" famously. This Tartar-the sole person who could act as interpreter, and by whose assistance I hoped to come to a settlement with the obstinate Pachamust now be looked up by means of a kavass. After much wandering here and there, the latter led me to a little wooden hut-a vegetable shop-which was closed, because the Turks, during Ramazan, only open their shops for a few hours in the day, or not at all. We drummed the Tartar out, and at last we had this wonderful animal-an elderly man with crafty black eyes-before us. I addressed him in German; "Nix versteh!" the man replied: this beginning was remarkably promising. I spoke to him in French; he answered, "Wui, monschir." I went on; he continued his "wui monschiring." I addressed him in bad Italian; he stuck to his "wui, monschir." I spoke to him in English; "Wui, monschir." I made a last desperate attempt by attacking him in Swedish and Danish, without expecting any better result, nor did I find it. Quite hot with annoyance, I turned my back on this Mezzofanti of Nikopoli, and determined on making a last attack on the Pacha on my own hook. Bathed in perspiration I at last rejoined the konak on the rocky plateau; there the Turks were still sitting as they had sat there hours before, and puffed; not one of them had probably moved a limb. "Pacha, wer bane begir"-("Pacha, give me horses”)—

I cried, as I entered without any ceremony, and standing before the Arnaut chief. He did not stir, but only smacked his tongue in denial. I repeated my demand. "Yok," was the dry reply, "olmas !"-his ultimatum, after I had disputed with him for a quarter of an hour in my broken Turkish, without his losing the slightest of his peace of mind, or his "kef." Without doubt the mistrustful Turk still regarded me as a Russian spy.

After a vain attempt to induce the kaïkjis to continue their voyage, M. Wackenhusen desperately hired an ox-cart to carry him as far as Sistowa. But he did not get any great distance with it, for, at every fifty paces, he found himself surrounded by Arnauts, who held the oxen by the horns and stretched out their hands with the categorical demand, "Adam, wer para!" ("Man, give money!") Had our author not given it, it was very plain they would have helped themselves, so, after getting rid of all his small change and his whole stock of patience, he suddenly returned to Nikopoli. On arriving here he sent for his old kaïkjis, and bargained with them to carry him back to Rahova, where he intended to await the troops from Widdin and Kalafat, in which the boatmen gladly acquiesced. This voyage occupied six days, during which M. Wachenhusen was exposed to the utmost misery, though, fortunately, the bullets. were on this occasion absent. On arriving at Rahova, however, our author discovered that not a single company of Turks had passed through, and he decided on returning to Lom Palanka, whence he would proceed by land to Widdin. In Lom the following occurred, which is an amusing instance how "Muscovy ducks" are hatched:

In the open Tchardagh of the steam-agent's house, I found two well-known faces; they belonged to the two German correspondents of Vienna papers, Dr. E and Dr. J— whose acquaintance I had formed at Widdin, and who had come here with the steamers. I went into the house, and was received by my two colleagues with the inquiry, whether an engagement had really taken place last Wednesday at Nikopoli, as a trader had brought the news from Islas that a violent cannonade had been heard in the vicinity of Nikopoli, that the Russians had attempted to force a passage, but had been driven back by the Turks with considerable loss. I was naturally in a position to confirm the news of the cannonade, but as regarded the wounded they were limited to a single victim-my injured cloak. Thus, then, report had once again converted a fly into an elephant, which will always remain an interesting reminiscence for myself and cloak.

After a day's rest our author set out with his friends for Tirnova, in the heart of the Balkans, which place they reached after a pleasant ride. Tirnova was formerly the residence of the Bulgarian kings, the Holy City, and a degree of luxury is to be found in the bizistans or bazars surpassing Shumla and Varna, and rendering the town a miniature Constantinople. It contains houses built after a European style, and one of them, belonging to a Greek, actually possessed Gothic windows and a verandah! Our readers must know that this is a species of miracle in the interior of Turkey. There is also an apothecary's shop, in such excellent condition, that those found at Pera might really envy it. After a few days' stay here, which was only remarkable for the extraordinary length of the reckoning, and off which the kavass very calmly docked two-thirds, the party set out again en route for Shumla, where our author had the extreme gratification of finding that the Russians had raised the

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siege of Silistria on the previous day and recrossed the Danube. was disappointed, as may be anticipated, and he gives vent to his discontent in the following Jeremiad: "I really ought to have seven-leagued boots to catch up this war. Had I not been sent back up the Danube under protest, I should have arrived just in time. I had lost a fortnight by this round-about road, and the Russians could not wait so long. I could only account for it by presuming there was something extraordinarily peaceable about me: for when I arrived at Widdin the Russians fell back on Kalafat: now, when I came to Shumla, with the firm intention of getting as near as I could to Silistria, the Russians again retreated. I am, consequently, convinced that it would have sufficed to send me to Sevastopol, to cause the immediate surrender of that fortress." Such being the case, it was necessary to make the best of a bad job, and in this our author was materially aided by finding a German locanda kept by an Hungarian. It is the only one in all Turkey worthy of mention, of course excepting Constantinople; there was certainly one at Widdin, kept by Alexi, a Greek, which was a miserable hole, and the landlord an impudent fellow. On the first evening our author visited this locanda he found all the tables occupied by officers and strangers. Skender Bey, Jacouba, Omar Bey, and other acquaintances he found here, and they were all excessively jolly. The latest events at Silistria formed the subject of conversation, and M. Wachenhusen was especially pleased with the description given here by a young Turkish captain, Mehemed Ali Effendi, who had returned from Silistria on the previous evening, where he had been very active in the trenches. Mehemed Ali was a Prussian, born in Magdeburg, of the name of Detroit, who had run away from home as cabin-boy, entered the military school at Constantinople, and so made his fortune. Another interesting acquaintance was Lieutenant Von der Becke: he is one of those officers who went as artillery instructors from Prussia to Turkey seven years ago, and who have done so much to place the Turkish artillery on its present excellent basis. From these officers, too, M. Wachenhusen contrived to pick up various details about Omar Pacha, which possess so much novelty, that we transcribe them in their entirety:

It would be a superfluous task were I only to repeat the stories hitherto fold about the generalissimo in the newspapers and elsewhere: my purpose is rather to rectify these statements which have been made known about the life of this man, and in some measure to contradict them, for what I now narrate I heard from persons who had been his comrades for years, or at least in his immediate vicinity. I only propose, however, to tell such anecdotes as are not generally known, and beg to state that the part relating to Omar's former life is taken from his own lips, and is written in similar terms in his journal.

Omar Pacha is descended from a Croatian family, neither rich nor well-born, and served under the name of Latas in the Austrian Grenzer, as sub-officer. In consequence of some unpleasantness with one of his superiors, which he probably describes differently from the way I heard it from an old captain on the military frontier, who remembered Latas perfectly well, Omar secretly left the service, and fled to Turkish Croatia as far as the town of Banyaluka, on the river Verbas. Here he looked for work, and found a Turkish tradesman, who received him into his house, as the fugitive understood German, wrote a good hand, and so could be excellently employed in mercantile affairs. He took him into his store, appointed him

assistant, and soon grew so fond of him, that he proposed to him to be converted to Islamism, and marry his daughter. Omar acquiesced, and became a renegade. But he was soon assailed by great despondency; he felt unhappy in this new state, and at last made up his mind to fly privily from Banyaluka, and proceed to Widdin. This design he executed soon after: in the night he set out with only 30 piastres in his pocket, and arrived at Gulbissan, a small town on the same river. Here, just before the town, he sank exhausted on a stone by the wayside; his shoes were burst, he had no money to buy new ones, he knew not whither to turn nor what to do. Crying bitterly, he looked for something to mend his shoes, and at last found a little piece of cord, with which he tied them together. Slowly, and plucking up a heart, he continued his journey, and at last reached Widdin with twenty paras (half a piastre) in his pocket.

Here in Widdin he seated himself in a coffee-house, and heard several persons conversing about the circumstance that Ibrahim Pacha wanted to draw a plan of Widdin, but could find no one to execute it. Omar here saw a way of release: he went to the Turks and stated that he was ready to draw the plan, if they would tell him how to procure the job. The Turks informed Ibrahim that there was a young man in the town who would draw the required plans. Ibrahim sent for him, gave him the necessary materials, and Omar set about his task. He did it to Ibrahim's complete satisfaction; so he gave Omar new clothes, and kept him near his person in the capacity of private engineer. When Ibrahim was afterwards removed to Mostar, Omar begged him to make an officer of him. Ibrahim possessed great influence in Constantinople; he wrote to the minister of war, and Omar was appointed kol-aghassi (wing-major). In a short time he was promoted to a majority, and as such went through the Kurdistan campaign. He distinguished himself greatly in it, was made lieutenant-colonel and colonel, and after the termination of the campaign returned to Constantinople as commander of an infantry regiment. Here he was made brigadier, and then was attached to the Rumelian corps, but the intrigues of several Pachas compelled him to send in his papers. He retired to Adrianople, and lived for three years on a monthly pension of fifteen ducats. At the period of the Moldo-Wallachian disturbances he was recalled to Constantinople, and promoted to the rank of lieutenant field-marshal; he proceeded to the Principalities, and managed matters there so entirely to his master's satisfaction, that he was made marshal, and received the Nischan Medjidie, first class, as well as a sword of honour decorated with diamonds. He also received a decoration from the Russians. On the outbreak of the revolution in Bosnia he proceeded thither as commander-in-chief of the Rumelian corps, defeated the Bosnians on all sides, and sent the two rebellious Pachas prisoners to Constantinople. The Sultan made him a present of 3,000,000 piastres to pay his debts, for Omar Pacha is always burdened with them. He afterwards suppressed the Montenegrine insurrection, and finally proceeded to Shumla, when he was appointed generalissimo of the whole Turkish army, a rank which renders him in his forty-eighth year the third person in the empire.

His game of chess with Riza Pacha, which plays no inconsiderable part in Omar Pacha's career, as well as the share which the Sultana Validé had in his advancement, I pass over. Riza and Omar are deadly foes; and thus Omar, when he heard that Riza was appointed minister of war, became so excited, that he demanded leave to retire. Riza naturally does all in his power to hurl Omar from his saddle; and when from time to time reports are propagated that Omar is in disgrace, as was the case last summer, they have generally a good foundation. In private life Omar Pacha is most amiable; he is willing to do kindnesses to every one, and is remarkably affable. He loves the fair sex excessively, and has had already ten wives, who were generally Circassians and his slaves. By his "penultimate" wife he has one daughter, Etima Hanum, who has enjoyed a first-rate education. Since he has been separated from this wife, he pays her monthly 12,000 piastres, on condition that she will not marry again; she is said to be very beautiful, and lives in the vicinity of Constantinople. His present wife is a German, whom he brought with him from Wallachia; she was

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governess in the family of a boyar at Bucharest, and is only remarkable for red hair and freckles. She now resides with her husband at Shumla.*

Omar Pacha has two names, Omar Ludovik; his monetary circumstances are never brilliant, though he receives the enormous salary of 6000 ducats monthly: he has spent a fortune on women; his sole property consists of a small house in Stambul, which the Sultan gave him. Of his own family, a nephew is now with him, who was formerly a journeyman saddler in Trieste, but is now a colonel, and will probably become a general; he is twenty-three years of age, without any education, but has a good share of mother wit, and speaks German and French. About a year ago Omar's brother joined him: till 1831 he was in the Polish service, and lived from that date in Lithuania. Omar appears rather vexed with his brother because he will not become a convert to Islamism. In his family circle Omar Pacha is very good-humoured and amiable; his desire to be agreeable frequently causes him to promise things he afterwards forgets. During the Bosnian campaign, when he once came to the spot where he had sat years before, desolate, weeping, and with torn shoes, he pointed out the stone to his comrades, and described to them what a part this stone had played in his former life. His constant comrade is an Arab mare, now eighteen years of age, for which he once paid 80,000 piastres, but he would not sell her for a million, as he has ridden this beautiful animal through all his campaigns, and is extraordinarily attached to it.

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Just as little as I feel disposed to overestimate Omar Pacha's services, do I wish to undervalue them. I heard in Turkey, especially from military men, the most contradictory opinions about him: I was even in society where Omar Pacha's name was only mentioned with a shrug of the shoulders, and as that of a common parvenu. Omar Pacha's career has been extremely fortunate, though he has already felt the weight of the Padishah's displeasure, and spent years in asylum"—that is, in exile. But the same circumstance which procured him his momentary brilliancy brought him once more into active service, namely, the melancholy truth, that he is the most competent person among more or less incompetent ones. I will not attempt to judge how far the present generalissimo profited by the protection he enjoyed in a certain well-known quarter, but so much is certain, he distinguished himself in every campaign in which he has taken part. He is the greatest man among a quantity of small fry, but he would obtain an honourable place among great names; and every commission, either military or diplomatic, which the Porte has entrusted to him, he has managed to perform with undeniable talent.

Though Omar Pacha is so amiable as a private man, he is abrupt and uncourteous in service, more especially (and this is unpardonable) towards those Europeans in the Turkish army, while he behaves with a great deal more indulgence to the national Turkish Pachas. He cannot be charged with trying to enlist European talent in his staff: all these are evidently kept away from the council of war, for it might be very easy for talented men to display their skill there. His whole staff is, consequently, composed of Turkish officers, though he likes to have German and other civilians about him: his physician, Dr. Redenbacher, is a Viennese, and his artist, Sutter, also a German. He showed the same want of courtesy, after his entrance into Wallachia, to the foreign correspondents, whom he expelled from Bucharest in a very rude manner. But, for all that, Omar Pacha is aware how much of his European popularity he owes to the press, which continually exalted him, but to whose representatives he, out of gratitude, gave marching orders. With regard to his personal appearance, it is not very striking: he is powerfully and compactly built, and far from stout; his face is marked, without possessing any noble features; his nose broad and flat; his cheek-bones project in the true Sclavon style; his chin is broad and angular; his beard already grey. He is generally very simply dressed, in the soldier's red fez, a blue tunic, white trousers, and polished boots. The latter are de rigueur

*The newspapers have not informed us whether this lady has accompanied her husband to Eupatoria.

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