Having summarized the customs of some of the people under Ottoman rule, I must say something of the Turks themselves.

When a Turkish baby comes to this world no dainty embroidered linen and warm bath await it, but it is dressed in a plain cotton shirt and a cotton, quilted dressing-gown. Its limbs are then tightly wrapped in a long shroud, so that it cannot move them. Frequently a cushion is put between its legs before shrouding, and this probably accounts for so many children being bandy-legged. The child is then rolled into a quilted blanket, which is strapped up into a shapeless bundle, from which a little head appears, wearing a red cap, copiously studded with blue beads and seed pearls, as a protection from the evil-eye. The baby is then laid in a wooden rocking-cradle, which has a bar connecting its two raised ends, by means of which the cradle is lifted. Some of these cradles are very beautiful, and are inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl, and they bear appropriate inscriptions, carved in Arabic characters on the woodwork, such as "Under the Shadow of the Almighty," etc.

Among poorer people a canvas hammock takes the place of the cradle, and in it the baby is carried out of doors, and the hammock swung between two trees, while the mother attends to her duties.

On the third day after birth it is washed and presented to its father, who shouts thrice in its ear the name by which it is to be known.

A festive reception is then held by the mother in her room, and streams of women-visitors come to compliment her and peep at the infant. But the poor little thing does not receive the baby-worship and adulation bestowed in this country. On the contrary, it is addressed in insulting language, and called ugly, and a wretch, and a monster, and is deliberately spat upon—and all this in order to ward off the influence of the evil-eye.

It is quite exceptional for a babe to be brought up in the East on the bottle; should its mother be unable to nurse it a wet-nurse is procured.

Both mothers and nurses are singularly ignorant in the question of upbringing, and many an infant dies through injudicious feeding after it is weaned.

The love of Turkish parents for their children is excessive to a fault. A characteristic story is related of a Turk who was so distressed at the indisposition of his grandchild that he would neglect his business and hasten constantly to the patient's room to inquire as to his condition; and when the doctor ordered strict diet for a fortnight the anxious grandfather compelled his whole household, including himself, to submit to the same fare, for fear that the patient might be disappointed in not sharing the food of the family.

To such extent do Turks carry their love for children that they will adopt those of others, and bring them up with the same tenderness as their own, and will provide for them in after-life.

Children, on the other hand, are exemplary in their respect for their parents, and kiss their hands, and will not sit down, unless invited, in their presence. Even when they have reached mature age their mother is consulted, confided in, and listened to with respect. "My wives die," says the Osmanlee, "and I replace them; my children perish, and others are born to me; but who shall restore to me the mother who has passed away?"

Nor is this regard limited to the humbler classes; it is conspicuous in the case of the Sultan, who, on his accession to the throne, elevates his mother to the rank of Valide Sultana, or Queen-Mother, and requires all persons belonging to his harem to swear allegiance to her. Her rule is absolute, and even the Sultan's wives cannot leave their apartments, or go out for drives, or shopping, without her permission.

The early childhood of both boys and girls among Turks is spent in the harem—that is, the section of the house reserved for the women—but until the age of twelve, girls are not subject to the restraints of grown-up women, nor required to wear the veil, and they often accompany their fathers in excursions or join the boys in their play. They even attend the same elementary school, and, sitting cross-legged with them on a mat, repeat the alphabet, or recite texts from the Koran given out to them by the imam, or priest, of the mosque with which the school is connected. These recitations are carried on in a monotonous drawling tone, and the body is swung forwards and backwards, the imam himself setting the time by his own rhythmical nodding.

On their return home they frequently join their mothers and other inmates of the harem in an afternoon's stroll. The Turks are great lovers of Nature, and have a keen appreciation of the beautiful, but prefer sitting down to walking, and generally spend their afternoons resting under the shade of a great tree, or near the water's edge, making kef, or, in other words, doing nothing.

They invariably carry with them a boktcha, or bundle, containing a rug and picnic requisites, while one of the party carries a red clay pitcher, with water. Water is an indispensable requisite with Turks, and they will enjoy drinking it from the pitcher as much as from a glass.

The rug spread out, the party will all sit cross-legged upon it, and as other groups of women also congregate in the same place, dressed in garments of variegated colours, you would imagine yourself amid beds of many-coloured tulips, while the boys and girls playing around suggest fluttering butterflies.

The enjoyment of the women consists in smoking cigarettes, and gazing between each puff at the glorious scenery. Vendors of all sorts of eatables surround them, and, we will say, a shekerdgi, or dealer in sweeties, answers to their call, and places his circular tray, which he carries on his head, on the tripod-stand which he rests on the ground. The children flock around him, puzzled what to choose in that array of Turkish delight and shekers of every kind and colour. At last a choice is made, and the sweets are placed in a brown-paper bag shaped like a cone, and shared by the party. Shortly afterwards an Albanian selling halva as described in Chapter II., is called to contribute his wares. Then walnuts, pistachios, and peanuts come in for their turn, then ices, maybe, and something more solid in the shape of simits, or ring-cakes, as shown in the illustration in Chapter II. At sunset the boktchas are made up, and the party wends its way home to partake of a more substantial meal.

But should the night be bright, with moonlight, the party often start out again, and prolong their enjoyment until late hours, or until a policeman or old Turk passing by reminds them it is time to retire. It is amusing, in connection with these moonlight promenades, to see the women walking about or sitting with open sunshades to protect themselves from the lunar rays, imagining, no doubt, that they occasion lunacy.

Sometimes a too close proximity to the Bosphorus is selected for spreading the family rug, and an unusually large wash from a steamer passing by breaks unexpectedly on the shore, showering clouds of spray over the women's heads. The cold douche sets them all on their feet, screaming, and the bed of tulips now looks like one dashed by a storm.

But sometimes the ladies are more enterprising; a picnic to some distant part is decided upon, and arabas, or carts, drawn by oxen or buffaloes, are engaged. These conveyances are springless, and about 9 feet long by 4 feet wide. Those intended for excursion purposes have highly ornamented boards of carved, gilt, and painted wood on the two long sides, and an arched awning overhead, made usually of crimson cloth, with gilt or silver fringes.

The yoke attached to the oxen's necks has also an arched projection over it, on which tassels of various colours, and sometimes bells, are suspended in two or more tiers.

The driver, in baggy trousers, short jacket (often dispensed with), and a red fez, walks leisurely alongside the oxen, with a goad in his hand to direct them.

The cart has no seats, but the occupants provide themselves with carpets and cushions. The jolting on bad roads is, of course, tremendous, but this is considered part of the fun of the excursion.

Packed as closely as possible, with the children to fill up odd corners, the cart proceeds on its way groaning and creaking, while its inmates roar with continued laughter, especially when an unusually big jolt has jostled them together.

Having arrived at their destination, the carpets are spread out, and while some prepare and lay out the appetizing viands, others disport themselves in the fields, and return laden with flowers and with great yellow marigolds stuck in their hair.

The repast may consist of such hors-d'oeuvres as salted sardines, black olives, caviar, and salad of tchiros, or dried mackerel. This mackerel is the fish that in spring-time migrates from the Mediterranean, where it has spawned, into the Black Sea, and is in such an emaciated condition that the expression "thin as a tchiros" is used in Turkey to designate a person of extreme leanness. Nevertheless, it is caught and dried in the sun in such large quantities that the fields over which they are suspended look blue from a distance. They are sold by the pair, or "married couples," as the vendors cry out, and are grilled, shredded, and prepared into salad with oil and vinegar, and the tender leaves of the cummin (tereot).

Next to the hors-d'oeuvres follow dolmaz or rissoles of rice, raisins, and pine-nuts, seasoned with oil, and wrapped and boiled in vine-leaves. Keftez or meat rissoles come next, and then the fruits of the season, such as strawberries, cherries, and plums, or, should it be autumn, grapes, peaches, melons, water-melons, figs, etc. Cheese is frequently eaten with these fruits. Hoshaf, or the sweetened water in which fruit has been stewed, is generally drunk during meals, and when the humble repast is over, coffee is prepared, and served round in little cups which will barely hold an ounce.

Turkish coffee owes its excellence to the beans being newly roasted and newly ground. The grinding is done with a small machine, which pulverizes the beans very finely. The coffee is prepared in a special brass pot, the bottom of which is wider than the top. A teaspoonful is put in for every cup required, and the water is gently brought to a simmer over a slow fire. The coffee is allowed to rise thrice, and after resting the pot for a minute for the grounds to settle, it is poured out into the cups and drunk while quite hot, with or without sugar. The cups containing a creamy foam are the most recherchÉ. The dregs are not drunk. The illustration on the cover of this book shows a Kafedji in the act of preparing coffee.

Before and after partaking of food, hands are washed, and this is all the more necessary, as meals are eaten with the fingers, the party sitting round a low tray, and dipping into a common dish. Should the hostess desire to confer a special attention on a guest, she takes up a dainty morsel in her fingers, and exclaiming Buyrum (Welcome), places it gently into the guest's mouth. It would be the grossest insult to refuse. Cigarettes invariably follow, and then comes the lounging and the sleeping, and the return home with the lingering rays of the setting sun.

Accompanying the Arabas large parties of Turkish women and children may often be seen riding astride on donkeys, with donkey-drivers at their heels. No Oriental or Turkish lady would think of riding otherwise, and it is reported that quite a sensation was created when a European lady was first seen riding on a side-saddle. The conclusion was that the unfortunate creature had lost a leg, and people wondered how she could keep on with only the other.

But perhaps the pleasantest method of locomotion is by caik—that daintiest of all boats that float on the surface of the waters. Slender and tapering, its side view may be compared to a half-bent long-bow, and when looked upon from above to two such bows lying opposite each other, string to string. A picture of a heavy sort of caik, used for ferrying passengers across the Golden Horn, may be seen in the frontispiece. A caik is about 20 feet long by 4 feet broad in the middle; it is constructed with slender boards, and is only decked at the bows and the stern. The boatman sits on a seat in the middle of the boat, and its two to four passengers on cushions in the bottom, while a servant sits cross-legged on the raised stern. The oars are long and slender, with a peculiar bulge at the upper extremity to balance them. They are fixed to the rowlock peg by leather thongs, which the boatman continually greases. He is clad in a shirt of transparent gauze, with long hanging sleeves, and bordered round the open chest with a scalloping of needlework. His feet are bare, his ample trousers are of white cotton, and his shaven head is only partially covered by a red fez with tassels of purple silk. At each stroke of the oars the arrowy boat flies and skims the waters like a thing of life. Yet, though swift and graceful, the caik is not so safe nor commodious as an ordinary boat, and in this practical age the barka is rapidly replacing it.

Friday, the Turkish Sunday, is par excellence the day for excursions during the summer to Geuk-sou or the Heavenly Waters, a lovely spot on the Asiatic shores of the Bosphorus. A rivulet there discharges itself into the latter, and hundreds of boats may be seen shooting towards it from all directions. A vast concourse of people meet and sit on rugs or low stools, making kef under the shade of superb Oriental plane-trees which abound on that spot, and while sipping coffee or smoking hubble-bubbles, they watch the various performances going on for their benefit. Here is a Punch and Judy show, called cara-geuz, or the black eye, closely resembling our own, and equally popular with the children. There goes a Pomak with a huge Olympian bear, fastened through the nose with a ring; it has been trained to dance at the sound of a tambourine played by its master, and then to go round with it for coppers. Children are always delighted with the bear-show, but the street-dogs set up a tremendous barking, and their cry of alarm is so peculiar and distinctive that one can always tell from the sound when a bear is in sight.

There is frequently also on these occasions an open-air theatrical performance on an improvised stage, but the acting is coarse and vulgar, and admission is generally limited to men.

Of course at this, as at every open-air gathering, vendors of eatables and temperance drinks abound.

Among them I may enumerate yiaourtgis or sellers of that curdled milk, resembling curds, which is now so largely advocated in this country for promoting longevity. It is sold in little bowls, carried in two wooden trays, which are suspended like a pair of scales on either side of a yoke thrown over the shoulders. Dondulmagis or ice-cream vendors, who also carry their burden over the shoulders, one side containing the ice-cream box wrapped in folds and folds of snow-white sheeting, and the other a polished brass receptacle for spoons, cups, and saucers, and water to wash them after use.

A brazier with live coal may also be seen, on which heads of Indian corn are roasted, and greedily munched by the purchasers. Hoshaf and sherbet, or syrup vendors, are also there, with a stand for bottles and glasses, and an ingenious contrivance for revolving, by means of dropping water, a small wheel or paddle, the flaps of which strike against a glass and produce a merry jingling sound which draws attention.

The charm of this concourse of people is the primitive orderly enjoyment of outdoor life, without the disgraceful accompaniments of drunkenness.