It was very pleasant to Osman. He liked to watch the crowds and look at the many lights. He enjoyed the strange odours of the East. He never grew tired of looking at the rich and beautiful goods for sale,--the goods of Europe, Asia, and Africa. Three continents seemed to meet in the great bazaar of Constantinople. "Oh, papa, please look at these lovely stones. I should like to buy that necklace for mamma, she is so fond of amber." But the boy's father replied, "Not to-day, Osman, not to-day." Some queerly wrought swords now caught the boy's eye. They were made of the finest steel, and the handles were richly ornamented. "How I wish I could have one of those for my very own, papa. Mayn't I please have one?" "When you are a young man, Osman, we will look for the most elegant sword to be bought. But not now, my child." Osman forgot his longing for a sword when he stood in front of a stand where perfumes were sold. "We will buy some of this attar of roses. It will please your mother, and you may give it to her," said the father. The Turks are fond of delicate perfumes, and there is none they like better than attar of roses, which is largely made in Turkey, and sent from there to other countries. "Why does it cost so much?" asked Osman, as his father handed a gold coin to the shopkeeper. "It is because only a few drops can be obtained from hundreds and hundreds of the flowers. Next year, you shall take a journey with me, Osman. I am going to the part of our country where the roses are raised for this purpose. It is a beautiful sight,--the fields thickly dotted with the sweet-smelling blossoms. You shall then see how the people get fragrant perfume from the flowers." "I'm getting so hungry, papa. Can't we get some lunch? That cheese makes my mouth water." A man with a round wicker basket containing different kinds of cheese was going through the street and calling his wares. "Hush, Osman." His father pointed to the tower of a small mosque. High up in this tower stood a man crying out to all faithful believers of Mohammed. It was the call to prayer. Five times each day this prayer-caller mounted the tower. Each time he cried out to the people who were within reach of his voice. Osman and his father instantly turned toward the sacred city of Mecca, and, kneeling down right where they stood, repeated a short prayer. Then they slowly rose and turned their steps toward a restaurant, where they could get a delicious lunch. There were many other peddlers in the streets besides the cheese-seller. Some of the shoppers bought what they wished from these peddlers. They could get unleavened bread or biscuits, custards, ices, sherbet, sweetmeats, hot vegetables, and many other things. But Osman's father said, "We can be more comfortable in the restaurant. Besides, I should like a good dish of kebaby." Kebaby! It was an odd name and an odd dish.