Our Little Turkish CousinWade, Mary Hazelton Blanchard
General
Our Little Turkish Cousin
Wade, Mary Hazelton Blanchard
Children -- Turkey -- Juvenile literature
Here and there were grand buildings of white marble, while the whole
place was dotted with groves of dark cypress-trees.
Yes, it looked very, very beautiful, but when the boats were left
behind, and the narrow, dirty streets were reached again, it did not
seem possible it could be the same place the party had seen from the
water.
There was no likeness to fairy-land now. The hungry dogs, the ragged
beggars, the tumble-down houses in the very midst of the fine buildings,
make the stranger feel sad.
But Osman is so used to these sights, they do not trouble him. This
city, the greatest one of his people, always seems grand and beautiful
to him.
On the evening after the picnic, Osman's mother said to her husband, "I
have invited a party of my friends to lunch with me to-morrow."
The Turks do little visiting after sunset. The ladies often spend the
day with each other, but are seldom away from home at dinner-time.
The next morning, after their master had gone away for the day, and
Osman had started for school, the servants began to make ready for the
party.
As soon as the first guest arrived, a pair of shoes belonging to Osman's
mother was placed outside the door of her room. If her husband should
happen to come home during the day, he would see these shoes. He would
know by this sign that his wife had lady visitors. It would not be
polite for him to enter her rooms during their stay in the house.
The lunch-hour soon came. The hostess led her friends into the
dining-room. They seated themselves on the soft cushions placed by the
servants around the low stand.
There was a spoon, and also a piece of bread, at each lady's place. On
the centre of the stand was a leather pad on which hot dishes would be
set as they were brought in. But when the ladies sat down there was no
food to be seen, except the pieces of bread, some saucers containing
olives, bits of cucumber, melons, and radishes.
And now the slaves moved from one guest to another, bringing a basin of
water and towels. Each one must bathe her hands before eating, as well
as afterward, whether alone or in the grandest company.
It was a pleasure to watch them. As the stream of clear water fell
slowly into the basin, each one rubbed her fingers gracefully and
daintily, and then dried them on the fine linen towel held out by the
watchful servant.
When this had been done by every one, Osman's mother clapped her hands,
and a tureen of thick, creamy soup was brought in and set on the leather
pad.
The hostess politely waved her hand toward her principal guest. She was
inviting her to be the first one to dip her spoon into the soup. After
this, the other ladies joined in, all eating together from the same
dish.
After a few mouthfuls, the hostess made a sign to the slave to remove
the soup and bring in another dish. Before the meal was over there would
be sixteen courses, at least, and, therefore, it would not be well to
eat much of any one of them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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