ew tourist suit, cross-barred all over in four
colours, I fancy it would be better if you dressed as a Turk during
your stay here."

"A Turk, Jack?"

"Yes; now, if you were to have your head shaved, and dress yourself
like a Turk," said Jack, "all this wonderment would cease, and you
would go out, and come in, without exciting any remark."

Mr. Figgins fell back in his chair.

"Ha-ha-have my head sha-a-ved, dress myself up li-like a Turk?" he
gasped. "You surely don't mean that?"

"I do, indeed," replied Jack, seriously.

"What? Wear baggy breeches, and an enormous turban, and slippers turned
up at the toes! What would the natives say?"

"Why, they'd say you were a very sensible individual," remarked Harry.
"Don't you remember the old saying?--'When you're in Turkey, you must
do as Turkey does.'"

Mr. Figgins reflected for a moment.

"And you really think if I were to go in, for a regular Turkish
fit-out, I should be allowed to enjoy my walks in peace?" he asked, at
length.

"Decidedly," answered his counsellors, with the utmost gravity.

"Then I'll take your advice, and be a Turk until further notice," said
the orphan; "but there's one thing still."

"What's that?"

"My complexion isn't near dark enough for one of these infidels."

"Oh, that won't matter," said Jack; "only slip into the Turkish togs.
Go in for any quantity of turban, and they won't care a button about
your complexion."

"Very well, then, that's settled; I'll turn Turk at once. But must I
have my head shaved?"

"That's important," said Jack.

Having made up his mind on that point, the orphan at once put on his
hat, and taking a sip of brandy to compose his nerves, he sallied
forth, directing his steps to the nearest barber's.

On his way thither he attracted the usual amount of attention, and when
he reached the barber's shop, he found himself accompanied by a select
crowd of deriding Turks, and a dozen or so of yelping curs, shouting
and barking in concert.

The barber received him with the extreme of Eastern courtesy.

"What does the English signor require at the hands of the humblest of
his slaves?" was the deferential inquiry.

"I have a fancy to turn Turk, and I want my head shaved," explained Mr.
Figgins, nervously; "pray be careful, since I'm only a poor orphan,
who----"

Before he had time to finish his sentence, he found himself wedged into
a chair with a towel under his chin.

The next moment his head, under the