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Show TRAVELING WITH AN INTERPRETER. INTER-PRETER. EXPERIENCES OF A TRAVELER VS BUL-Q BUL-Q ARIA. At Slatiza, a pretty Bulgarian village, vill-age, I had a lair specimen of the beauties of traveling with an interpreter, interpre-ter, who was also Bleward and generalissimo gene-ralissimo ol my little party. PaHO had been in America, : and had caught some of the smart habits of that energetic race; but he bad not lost the habitual dilatoriness of an Ottoman subject. He begged me not to trouble myself my-self about dinner, as he had made inquiries; in-quiries; there were fowls to be bad, and in an hour he would have a grand meal ready, consisting of soup, boiled fowl, BtufJud cucumbers, and tnelina, a delicious Bulgarian pastry. The very thought of this, after a long day's ride ol over fifty miles, was decieedly comforting. Pano had disappeared into th family haunts of the inn, and I leisurely uupacked my bug, bad a comfortable wash and change, and, as it was a lovely evening, I took a stroll through the town. I returned in about an hour and sat down to read. I was extremely hungry, but knowing the customs ol the country, was determined to be patient. Time passed; I looked at my watch and found it was more than two hours Bince Pano had assured me dinner would be ready in an hour. I therefore inwardly congratulated con-gratulated myielf that it would soon appear; possibly the fowl was tough and required extra boiling. In about an hour my attention was attracted by a great bustle outside and an evident alarm among the poultry, with sounds as though of missies flying about. "What is the matter, Pano?" "I'm trying locatcu this fowl, sir," "What fowi?" "Ob, this fowl for dinner, air." He had not even commenced to cook the dinner, din-ner, though it was now past S o'clock. But the delay did not end there. When the fowl was caught, killed and plucked, it then occurred to them that a fire was neceesary to cook it, and slicks bad to be found and blown into a D ime; and all this j time the khanjee's wite was, of course, talking vivaciously. : At last, some time afur 9 o'clock, J the pot was bubbling on the fire, and a. smell as of incenso waited through the air. At 10 o'clock I thought the S3up must bo ready, aud made my way to Bee. Pano was bending over the fire, cleaning something in a , plate. "What are you doing?" I , asked. "I have got sonic rice, sir; i ii'a capi.al in soup, eo I'm going to put dome in. Soon we shall have a fine dinner." Now, rice nearly takes an hour to boil, and he was deliberately, at 10 o'clock, going to put rice luto the soup, which was then nearly reutly. My patience was exhausted, and the pangs of hunger were strong upon me; so seizing the pot, I made oti to my room, and supped oil stew and bread, to the gniat disappointment of Pano, who would have had the whole of his promised courses ready if I had waited till past miduight. This is not an exceptional case, but rather the rule of dilatory action than otherwise, and a type of the manner in which the whole administration of the country, coun-try, pubho, private, and domestic-, is carried on. My trouble with Pano, the interpreter, inter-preter, was almost as great as my annoyance an-noyance with Pano, the caterer. At the riek of trying the patience of my readers, I will give an instance of the difficulties which usually beset me, I am passing a field, and espy a crop which I have never Boeo before, aud a man working in the field. I call up the interpreter. "Pano, what is that growing there?" "I don't know, sir." "Ask that man, and find out all about it." "He says, bit, that he plants little seeds, nd it grows like that." "Does he give it lo bis horses or cattle?" Another long talk takes place, and the answer camea at last. "No, he does not give it to bis caltle." "W'hatdoea he do with it then?" More talk. "He saye it is a little white seed. Sort of brown color." "Well, what docs he do with it?" A very long conversation, carried in crescendo tones, and which became very excited. Now we shall have it. "He says, sir, that there is a little oil in that seed." "Well, what does he do with the oil?" Talk. "He sells tbeoi1.." "Do people burn the oil?" Talk. "No, he Bays the people do not burn the oil." What do they do with it?" Talk, "He says they eat the oil." "What is the name of it?" Talk. "He says thev call it different names." "What is it generally called?" Talk. "He says ii's sometimes callnd Sesame." He then plunges into violent vio-lent conversation, until you would suppose a quarrel brewing, and at last Bays: "This man says that cattle are very fond of thai?" This leads to a new line of inquiry, and at last, out of all the answers, I iearn that the plant is callel Sesame; that it is grown for its seed, which is made into oil; that this oil is eaten with various kinds of food; that the refuse is given, in the lorm of "oilcake," "oil-cake," to cattle; that it is a summer crop, and profitable. Col. James Baker's Book on Turkey. |
