Stamboul, but the habits of our Tatar were formed by his ancestors
and not by himself, so he took good care to see that his leathern
water-flask was amply charged and properly strapped to the saddle,
along with his blessed tchibouque. And now at last he has cursed
the Suridgees in all proper figures of speech, and is ready for a
ride of a thousand miles; but before he comforts his soul in the
marble baths of Stamboul he will be another and a lesser man; his
sense of responsibility, his too strict abstemiousness, and his
restless energy, disdainful of sleep, will have worn him down to a
fraction of the sleek Moostapha that now leads out our party from
the gates of Belgrade.

The Suridgees are the men employed to lead the baggage-horses.
They are most of them gipsies. Their lot is a sad one: they are
the last of the human race, and all the sins of their superiors
(including the horses) can safely be visited on them. But the
wretched look often more picturesque than their betters; and though
all the world despise these poor Suridgees, their tawny skins and
their grisly beards will gain them honourable standing in the
foreground of a landscape. We had a couple of these fellows with
us, each leading a baggage-horse, to the tail of which last another
baggage-horse was attached. There was a world of trouble in
persuading the stiff angular portmanteaus of Europe to adapt
themselves to their new condition and sit quietly on pack-saddles,
but all was right at last, and it gladdened my eyes to see our
little troop file off through the winding lanes of the city, and
show down brightly in the plain beneath. The one of our party that
seemed to be most out of keeping with the rest of the scene was
Methley's Yorkshire servant, who always rode doggedly on in his
pantry jacket, looking out for "gentlemen's seats."