This was full of shoemakers, and we chased
the key from shop to shop. It was like "Hunt the slipper." At last we
ran it to earth in the second waistcoat of a negligent individual in a
fez.
How happy the merchant of old must have felt when he entered the
courtyard after a long journey! The court was big and square, with a
fountain in the centre, the pillars were blue, and the arches red. Tiers
upon tiers of little rooms were built around; the expensive ones had
windows and the cheap ones none, and the door of each was marked by the
smoke of a thousand fires which had been lit within. Underneath were
cubby holes for the merchants' goods, and behind it all was a great dark
stable for the animals. Once shut up in the caravanserai one was safe
from robbers, revolutions, and the outside world. Lying in the doorway,
as if cast there by some gigantic ogre in a fit of temper, were two
immense marble vases, and two queer carved stone figures. Who made these
figures? Mystery--for Turkey does not carve.
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