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An encounter with street dogs in 19th century Istanbul
A Combat with Dogs
At last, after a long hunt through the thinly peopled Turkish quarters of Constantinople, and two serious combats with the unowned dogs, I found out the way to this great Emin Pasha. He lived in a big, tumble-down, wooden house, in the rear of the Serraglio, in a most desolate quarter, where the dogs were more than usually numerous and noisy. It is a common saying that these mangy curs know a Frank by his dress and walk, and cannot help barking when they see a hat. Hats or Franks of any kind were very rarely seen in this dismal part of the city, and fearful was the barking and yelling of the dogs when Tonco and I entered it. Two soldiers of the imperial guard highly enjoyed the music, or the sight of the annoyance it gave to me; and they hounded the curs upon us by making certain sounds between their teeth. We were on foot, when a pack of forty or fifty of the brutes charged down a steep and dirty lane upon us. I knew by long experience, obtained now and in former years, that these mongrels will never bite unless you turn to run away; but their noise was most distressing, and there was one big, tawny dog among them, bold and forward, that showed formidable teeth, and that seemed to have the intention of using them on the calf of my off-leg. No sensible man ever ventures out in Constantinople with out a big stick or a hunting-whip; I had a good, hard, heavy staff in my hand, and I applied it with such happy effect on the impudent brute's nose, that he turned tail and fled up the hill. He returned no more to the charge, but the rest of the pack, encouraged by the two soldiers, followed our steps, yelling and threatening, until we came to the ruins of a house or two which had been burned down in some recent conflagration. "Now," said Tonco, stooping down and picking up some stones and pieces of brick, "we have munitions of war!" I furnished myself in the like manner, and, after a hot fire of some two minutes, we beat off the foul-tongued Lemures. By the time the combat was over we looked something like a couple of bricklayers' labourers. - Charles Mac Farlane, Turkey and its Destiny, II:XIX:154. (London: John Murray, 1850) See also: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Macfarlane -- Bob www.kanyak.com |
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