THE RED RUGS OF TARSUS
tea parade through a park where every one you meet is as sick of seeing you and the park as you are sick of seeing them and the park. When conventional city folk look at a bird or an animal in a cage, and are sorry for the poor thing, it is only another sign of lack of realiza- tion as well as of imagination. With my teas and balls and clothes I was blissfully happy at home: but so was our canary. Neither of us knew any better, for we knew only our prison.
We have been round about Tarsus every- where, and every day, rain or shine. There is very little of the former. From the moment of our arrival in Mersina last August, aside from an hour or so in the morning of tennis, and an occasional visit to the bazaars, all our out-of- doors has been on horse. We have explored the city and the neighborhood, and have tried the roads on the Plain in every direction. Her- bert's sky-piloting in Idaho gave him a taste for restless stallion mounts, and I encourage it. [61]
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