There was no such thing as breakfast. The family ate only two real meals in the whole day. But the early morning was a pleasant time. There was no jumping up from the table after a hasty meal. There was no rushing for the train after a hurried kiss and goodbye to wife and baby. Oh, no, none of these things are done in Turkey. Osman's father dressed himself in a comfortable, loose gown, and seated himself cross-legged on a rug. He clapped his hands and a slave appeared with the steaming coffee, which was placed on a low stand near by. Then the baby's mother poured out the coffee and, handing it to her husband, sat down on a cushion at his feet. Osman, still in his nightclothes, toddled about, nibbling a sweet-cake. The slave who had brought the coffee was now busy in tidying the room. First of all, mattresses and wadded coverlets must be stowed away in a cupboard. There was no bedstead. Such a clumsy piece of furniture had been used in the house but once. That was when the young mother lay in state to receive her friends when Osman was born. Would you believe it! the baby's mother was still wearing her wadded night-dress. She often kept it on for hours after she got up in the morning. "It is so comfortable," she thought. "Why should I hurry to dress myself for the day?" After the coffee, the father took his pipe and lighted it with a tiny piece of charcoal. Now for a comfortable smoke. As he puffed away at his pipe, the room was quiet except for little Osman's prattle. He was trying to tell his father and mother about his play-things. After a while the sober Turk laid down his pipe, and said, "It is time for business." The dressing-gown was taken off, and street clothes were put on. What a grand-looking gentleman he was now, with his long beard hanging over his snow-white shirt-front, his embroidered vest, and wide, loose trousers. He lifted Osman up for a kiss, and, with a deep bow to his wife, he left home for the day. CHAPTER II. SCHOOL "MAMMA, mamma, I am so glad it has come at last!" said little Osman, early one bright spring morning. "Yes, yes, my darling," answered his mother. "It is a good time; I am glad, too." What made Osman wake up sooner than usual this morning? What caused his eyes to look so bright? Why was the nurse taking such pains with his hair and dress? He was going to school for the first time in his life. His sixth birthday had come and gone, and his father had said: "It is time for my little boy to do something besides play. He must learn to read our good books, and understand the use of numbers." The important day was set and the teacher was told about the new pupil. Word was also sent to the priest. Osman's father spent some time in choosing a pony on which his boy should first ride to school. At last he decided on one of an iron-gray colour and very handsome. "What beautiful trappings!" exclaimed Osman, when the pony arrived at the door. "Oh, you dear, kind father to get them!"