Our Little Turkish Cousin Part 4

When this had been done by every one, Osman's mother clapped her hands, and a tureen of thick, creamy soup was brought in and set on the leather pad.

The hostess politely waved her hand toward her princ.i.p.al guest. She was inviting her to be the first one to dip her spoon into the soup. After this, the other ladies joined in, all eating together from the same dish.

After a few mouthfuls, the hostess made a sign to the slave to remove the soup and bring in another dish. Before the meal was over there would be sixteen courses, at least, and, therefore, it would not be well to eat much of any one of them.

The guests ate a little of every course. But, between the courses, they nibbled at the olives, cuc.u.mbers, and different sweetmeats.

More than once, Osman's mother broke off a choice bit of food with her fingers, and held it up to the mouth of one of her friends. It was a very polite attention, and her visitor was pleased.

"How rude some people in the world are about eating," said one of the ladies. "They use the most clumsy things in their hands. They call them knives and forks. And besides, I have heard they do not wash before and after each meal. Ugh! It makes me shiver to think of their unclean ways."

"Yes, they are certainly not neat, and they are very awkward, if all I have heard about them be true," said another visitor. "They should study the ways of our people."

At last the luncheon was ended. The hostess led the way into the drawing-room, where coffee was now served.

They were having a merry time, laughing and chatting, when Osman entered the room. His face showed he had something he wished to tell. Making a low bow to the ladies, he turned to his mother and said:

"Oh, mamma, I just saw a cat fall ever so far. She was on the roof of that old building behind our house. She fell down, down to the ground.

And, mamma, I thought she would be killed. But she came down softly on her feet and ran off as if she hadn't been hurt the least bit. How is it that a cat can do such a thing? No other animal is like her, I'm sure."

His mother laughed, and turned to one of her friends. "Won't you tell my little boy the story of Mohammed and the cat?" she asked. "We should all be pleased to listen, and perhaps there are some here who do not know it."

The rest of the company nodded their heads. "Yes, do tell it," said one after another.

"Very well, little Osman," said the lady whom the boy's mother had asked. "You shall have the story. I trust you will remember it whenever you think of the Holy Prophet.

"Mohammed once travelled a long, long distance over the desert. He became very tired, and at last he stopped to rest. As he did so, he fell fast asleep.

"Then, sad am I to tell it, a wicked serpent glided out from among the rocks and drew near the Prophet. It was about to bite him, when a cat happened to come along. She saw the serpent and what it was about to do; she rushed upon it and struggled and fought. The serpent defended itself with all its strength and cunning, too. Great was the battle. But the cat killed the snake.

"As it was dying, the wicked creature hissed so horribly that the noise awakened Mohammed, and he saw at once that the cat had saved his life.

"'Come here,' he said. As the cat obeyed him, the holy man stroked her lovingly three times. Three times he blessed her, saying these words:

"'May peace be yours, O cat. I will reward you for your kindness to me this day. No enemy shall conquer thee. No creature that lives shall ever be able to throw thee on thy back. Thou art indeed thrice blessed.'"

"And is this the reason a cat always falls on her feet?" asked Osman.

"Even so, my little friend. Perhaps after this story you will feel more loving toward those soft-footed creatures," said the lady.

Osman made a low bow and thanked her for her kindness in telling the story. He was about to leave the room when another of the visitors reached out her hand and softly patted his shoulder.

"Sit down beside me, my child. I have a story to tell the company. Stay and hear it, if your dear mother is willing."

"May I, mamma?" he asked.

"Certainly, Osman, if you are good and quiet."

The little boy at once settled himself beside the lady who had asked him to stay. This is the story he heard.

THE WOOD-CUTTER AND FORTUNE

Once upon a time there was a wood-cutter who lived in the forest with his wife and two children. He was very poor. Day after day, and year after year, he went out into the midst of the wood and worked hard chopping down the trees and cutting them up for fire-wood.

After he had cut all the logs he could fasten upon the backs of his two mules, he went with them to the nearest town and sold his wood.

As each year came to an end, the poor wood-cutter was no richer than he was at the beginning. When twenty such years had pa.s.sed by, he began to feel quite hopeless.

"What is the use of working so hard?" he said. "Perhaps if I stay in bed from morning until night, Fortune will take pity on me. I will try it, at any rate."

The next morning, therefore, the wood-cutter stayed in bed, as he had promised himself he would do. When his wife found he did not get up, she went to wake him.

"Come, come," she cried, "the c.o.c.k crowed long since. You are late."

"Late for what?" asked her husband.

"Late for your work in the forest, to be sure."

"What is the use? I should only gain enough to keep us for one day."

"But, my dear husband, we must take what Fortune gives us. She has never been very kind to us, I must admit."

"I am tired and sick of the way she has treated us. If she wishes to find me now, she must come here. I will not go to the wood to seek her any more."

When she heard these words, the woodcutter's wife began to weep bitterly. She thought of the empty cupboard. She was afraid of hunger and cold.

Neither his wife's pleadings nor her tears had any effect on the wood-cutter. He would not rise from the bed. In a little while a man came to the door of the cottage, and said:

"Friend Wood-cutter, will you help me with your mules? I have a load to move."

But the wood-cutter would not get up. "I have made a vow to stay in my bed, and here I shall stay," he answered.

"Then, will you let me take your mules?" asked the neighbour.

"Certainly, help yourself," said the wood-cutter.

The neighbour took the mules and went away. It happened that he had found a rich store of treasure in his field, and he needed the mules to carry it for him to his home.

But, alas for him! The animals were safely loaded and had nearly reached his house, when some armed policemen came that way. The man knew the law of the Sultan, by which he claimed all treasure-trove for himself.

There was only one thing for him to do, that is, if he did not wish to be killed for taking the treasure for himself. He must flee.

Away he ran as fast as he could move, leaving the mules to go where they chose.

You can easily guess they turned toward their own home. They soon reached it in safety.

When the wood-cutter's wife saw them standing in front of the door with their heavy loads, she rushed to her husband and begged him to get up and look into the matter.