The Pasha, walks next to her, slightly bent by his recent illness. However he is well on his way to complete recovery; his sprightly step, his rosy cheeks, his keen bright eyes denote vigor and growing strength. He caresses his small gray beard and smiles. He passes his hand in his wife's arm and cheerfully says: “Hanoum, we should not complain, we are better off now than we ever were, if our trials have made us wiser. We know better the real value of things than we did before. The Almighty has made me recover my health, we are all alive and well. I am not so old yet, I can work. I will work, and you will again help me as you did in the past. We will together rebuild our home. It is for us to deserve the help of God. We must work for His mercy.” In the silence that followed new hopes were born in me. The undaunted spirit of the Pasha faithfully reflects the feeling in the Turkey and the Turks of to-day. This is the spirit that has brought them through all their past trials, this is the spirit that has been taken for fatalism, but which is nothing else than an indomitable blend of resignation, confidence in one's self and confidence in the justice of God. It will save Turkey and the Turks as it has saved them in the past. They never have been despondent and they never will give up. Calmly, without any show, without any complaint they always step back into their normal lives, confident that the future will justify their immovable trust in the justice of God. We slowly return home in the silent twilight of the evening. It is almost dinner time. The old fashioned Turkish families dine always soon after sunset, no matter the season. Here in Erenkeuy the food is supplied by a community kitchen to which most of the neighbours are subscribers. It is distributed twice a day, so the food is always freshly cooked, clean and wholesome. It is less costly and less worrisome than to keep one's own kitchen and my surprise is great to find such an efficient modern innovation in a little village at the outskirts of Anatolia. After dinner we sit around and talk some more. My cousin plays and sings for us some old Turkish songs. Then we all retire, for the night, the younger ones again kissing the hands of their elders. When we are alone in our room, my wife tells me how much she has liked my aunts. It must be mutual because there is a knock on our door and my aunt enters. She comes to give my wife a pair of small diamond earrings as a token of welcome under her roof. My aunt insists on her taking them. They have no value of their own she says, but they have been in the family for a very long time--my mother wore them when she was a child. IV MODERN TURKISH WOMEN