eigner, the merchant is quite deferential. A merchant is not
a merchant at all, but a host entertaining a guest. Coffee is served; then
a cigarette rolled up and handed to the "guest," while the various social
and other local topics are freely discussed. After coffee and smoking the
question of purchase is gradually approached; not abruptly, as that would
involve a loss of dignity; but circumspectly, as if the buying of anything
were a mere afterthought. Maybe, after half an hour, the customer has
indicated what he wants, and after discussing the quality of the goods,
the customer asks the price in an off-hand way, as though he were not
particularly interested. The merchant replies, "Oh, whatever your highness
pleases," or, "I shall be proud if your highness will do me the honor to
accept it as a gift." This means nothing whatever, and is merely the
introduction to the haggling which is sure to follow. The seller, with
silken manners and brazen countenance, will always name a price four times
as large as it should be. Then the real business begins. The buyer offers
one half or one fourth of what he finally expects to pay; and a war of
words, in a blustering tone, leads up to the close of this every-day
farce.

The superstition of the Turks is nowhere so apparent as in their fear of
the "evil eye." Jugs placed around the edge of the roof, or an old shoe
filled with garlic and blue beets (blue glass balls or rings) are a sure
guard against this illusion. Whenever a pretty child is playing upon the
street the passers-by will say: "Oh, what an ugly child!" for fear of
inciting the evil spirit against its beauty. The peasant classes in Turkey
are of course the most superstitious because they are the most ignorant.
They have no education whatever, and can neither read nor write. Stamboul
is the only great city of which they know. Paris is a term signifying the
whole outside world. An American missionary was once asked: "In what part
of Paris is America?" Yet it can be said that they are generally honest,
and always patient. They earn from about six to eight cents a day. This
will furnish them with ekmek and pilaff, and that is all they expect. They
eat meat only on feast-days, and then only mutton. The tax-gatherer is
their only grievance; they look upon him as a necessary evil. They have no
idea of being ground down under the oppressor's iron heel. Yet they are
happy because they are contented, and have no envy. The poorer, th