Often the governor had dinner parties for his friends. These were always a delight to Karim, who helped to make the room ready. First the servants spread upon the richly woven carpet a coloured cloth that covered the entire centre of the long room. Along the edges of this cloth a man next spread the large flaps of thin whole wheat bread. Then the centre was filled with all kinds of good things to eat. There were large plates heaped high with pilav, well buttered and mixed with bits of orange and spices, and topped with pieces of well cooked chicken. Near by in other dishes were bits of mutton in spiced gravies. The yellow curry, in saucers, was placed near the rice, all ready to be mixed with it. Other dishes held cold rice, cooked in milk and sugar until it was almost solid. Often there were large dishes of cucumbers, tomatoes, or apples, with their centres cut out and filled with spiced meats and thoroughly cooked. There were side dishes of sweet preserves, and of red peppers.

The guests left their shoes at the door, and sat down on the floor next to the table cloth. Each rested on his heels, flattening out the instep. He was careful not to move his legs at all during the meal, no matter how tired they became, because that would suggest that he was not enjoying the entertainment. Each guest was also careful to sit further from the governor than other guests of higher rank. If he did not, the guest whose place he had taken would probably have disgraced him by making him get up and change his seat.

When the eating began every one was busy. Each tore off little pieces of bread, and with their help took the meat or rice from the dishes. There were no separate plates, or knives or forks. Once in a while the governor with his own hand poked a piece of food into the mouth of the guest who sat next to him. This was a great compliment. The servants went softly about in stocking feet, seeing that the dishes were kept full.

When all had eaten enough, the table cloth was cleared, and sherbet, or sweetened water, was brought in, with plates of candy and small sweet cakes. Karim carried around a pitcher of water, while another servant went with him, carrying a basin and towel. Each guest washed his hands. By this time many in the room were laughing and chatting. Sometimes the conversation was kept up for several hours, until tea and the kalian had been passed around.

Meantime the servants, in another room, were having a splendid feast with the food left by the guests. So much was cooked that there was always plenty to spare. When they finished eating, the dishes were passed out to the hostlers; lastly, the hostlers passed on the scraps to the beggars waiting at the gate, so that nothing was lost.

One day, when Karim was sitting alone in the mirza's room, a stranger entered.

"Peace be to you," said Karim.

"May you have peace. Is not the mirza in?"

"He has been called by the agha—whose life God will lengthen!—and is very busy."

"Has he no time, then, to write a letter for me? Do you know of any one who can compose a good letter?"

"Indeed," replied Karim, who wanted to show what he knew, "the mirza, when I help him, says that my writing is second only to his. If my letter does not please you, come again when the mirza is not busy. What is your need?"

"Yesterday," said the man, "a merchant sent me some splendid pomegranates. He has made my face to shine, and I wish to thank him. I wish also to beg him to send me some more."

Karim opened the pen case, and took out a reed pen, which he sharpened and smoothed. Then he took a roll of paper, trimmed it with the scissors, and rubbed its edges with saffron. Putting the paper on his knee as he sat on the floor he began to write, pushing the pen across the paper from right to left.

When he was through he read the letter to the man.

"That is just the kind of letter I want," he said.

"Very well," said Karim, "I shall seal it. Where is your seal?"

He took the man's seal, engraved on a bit of agate, and after wetting it with the thick ink, pressed it on the paper. Then he folded the letter and handed it to the man, who thanked him many times, and offered him ten shahis in payment.

When Karim told the mirza what he had written the latter said, "You have learned quickly from me how to compose well. Let me keep on teaching you, and you will become almost as skilful as I."

This is a translation of the letter that Karim composed:

"My kind, honourable and respected master, whose honour I hope may last:

"Just when my weak mind was planning to ask you about the state of your health, which is so important to us, the noble, famous and wise Sayid Ibrahim (I hope that his life may be lengthened!) unexpectedly gave me your kind letter. When I opened the letter it seemed to me that I was uncorking a bottle of rose-water. When its perfume of love reached the nose of my soul, because it brought me the news of your good health, I was as full of joy as I could be. And by showing me your favour, that is, by sending me the pomegranates, you have made me very glad. I hope that you will always gladden my heart with this kind of favour, each year sending me the happy news of your own good health. My longing eye is all the time looking up the street.

"I wish this letter to carry some sign of my love, so I am sending you with it a pair of gloves. Wear them, please, for the sake of remembering me.

"Rashid."