Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: CHAPTER III OTHER FACES, OTHER PHASES MY uncle was now gone — gone, let us hope, to where he was to find rest from racial hatred, rest from national ambition. Gone though he was, his influence over my life was never to go entirely—in spite of radical modifications. He had enriched my childhood with things beyond my age, yet things which I would not give up for the most normal and sweetest of childhoods. He had taught me the Greek Revolution as no book could ever have done ; and he had given me an idea of the big things expected of men. He had given me a worship for my race amounting to superstition, and bequeathed to me a hatred for the Turks which would have warped my intelligence, had I not been blessed almost from my infancy with a power of observing for myself, and also had not good fortune given me little Turkish Kiamele as a constant companion. In the abstract, the Turks, from the deeds they had done, had taken their place in my mind as the cruellest of races; yet in the concrete thatrace was represented by dark-eyed, pretty little Kiamele, the sweetest and brightest memory of an otherwise bleak infancy. Alongside the deeds of the Greeks, and the bloodshed of the Greek Revolution, I had from her " The Arabian Nights." She told them to me in her picturesque, dramatic way, becoming a horse when a horse had to come into the tale, and any other animal when that animal appeared ; and she imitated them with so great an ingenuity that she suggested the very presence of the animal, with little tax on my imagination. She talked with a thick voice, when a fat man spoke, and a terribly funny piping voice when a thin one spoke. She draped herself exquisitely with her veil, when a princess came into the tale ; and her face assumed the queerest look when the ev- sahibs, or ... --This text refers to the Paperback edition.