The hospitality of the East is proverbial. If you call on a man while he is eating, he will always consider it an obligation incumbent on him, no matter what your position or his position may be, to greet you heartily with a loud cry of, "Bouroun! Bouroun!" ("Welcome! Welcome!") and to invite you to partake of his meal even though that meal consist only of bread and water seasoned with olives or onions. The food may not be always famous, but the hospitable spirit is invariably hearty. The desire to share their food with others seems to be born with the Oriental and with the Russian, who is, after all, an Oriental also. High and low frequently send out hearty invitations to their friends and to the friends of their friends, even though the sharing leaves them all hungry at the end of the repast.

To this universal law of the East Nasr-ud-Dín was no exception, as the following story will show.

A friend of the khoja once presented him with a lamb. The lamb was killed and roasted and done to the taste of the Turks on the spit, and served with pilaff. The khoja greatly appreciated the gift, and, in accordance with the rules of Oriental politeness, he begged the giver to remain and partake of the feast.

The khoja's feast over, the giver of the lamb departed, but the taste of the good things he had eaten evidently remained with him, for he again visited the khoja next day and, of course, was invited to share the remains of the lamb and pilaff with the usual hearty "Welcome! Welcome!"

A few days later several people called on the khoja and, though totally unkown to him, introduced themselves as being neighbours of the man who had given the lamb. They also were greeted by the holy and hospitable ecclesiastic with a cheerful "Welcome! Welcome!" and invited to stay to dinner. The meal was a very meagre one, but full justice was nevertheless done it by the friends of the person who had presented the lamb.

A few days later yet another batch of people came and introduced themselves to the khoja as friends of the neigh bours of the man who had presented him with the lamb.

The khoja welcomed them with all his usual warmth, and, when meal-time came round, he had a small saucepan of water served to them.

The friends of the neighbours of the giver of the lamb looked somewhat aghast at this scanty fare, and inquired with anxiety what it meant.

The khoja told them in all seriousness that the saucepan was a child of the pot wherein the lamb had been roasted, and that the water it contained was taken from the same spring wherefrom came the water to make the pilaff that had been served with the roasted lamb.

On hearing this, the friends of the neighbours of the giver of the lamb got up and departed, and the khoja wished them God-speed, saying, "May Allah give you health, the greatest of all blessings, and may He not withhold from you the power to understand!"

St. George's Day, the first day of Spring (Hedralis), is a day of great innocent rejoicing in the whole of Turkey. From early dawn every available means of conveyance – principally bullock-carts and springless carriages – is engaged for the day. In Constantinople, men, women, and children start off in private family groups to the Sweet Waters of Europe and the Sweet Waters of Asia to spend the entire day sitting on the grass, and making peaked head-coverings for themselves with narcissi. These all the children wear, and they return in the evening singing songs, and glad that they have paid their tribute to the dawn of Spring. The carts and carriages are also decorated with branches of trees, and all the people are happy.

The Sweet Waters of Asia is on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus near Anatoli Hissar (the castle of Asia). The Sultan has there a kiosk to which he retires when winter has come to an end. He amuses himself by shooting and by various other sports, some of them formerly very coarse. On the first day of spring the Turks go to the Sweet Waters of Asia in large numbers. Those who live on the European side go in caiques or light boats, which skim the Bosphorus like the yèlqowan. [1] From along the Asiatic shore folk come in arabas or carts. An araba forms a conspicuous object in the plate here reproduced. It is a carved and springless wooden coach or cart (it really partakes of the nature of both) and is drawn by oxen whose white locks between the horns are stained with henna. Round the huge necks of these beasts are suspended amulets of bright blue beads which are supposed to guard their wearers from the evil eye. To guard the contents of the araba from the evil eye other means were formerly employed – to wit, a number of black eunuchs with drawn sabres, who menaced with instant death anyone who approached the line of march. Need I say that the contents of these curtained and incommodious vehicles were and are bevies of beauty, being in fact the harems of the Sultan and the great pashas?

The well-to-do families will on this occasion roast their lambs, and boil their pilaff, and feast. As a rule they enjoy these banquets to the fullest extent, though in no case does any beverage but pure water ever pass their lips. This water is, however, of a kind that Turkey is alone blest with limpid, cold, and light. How enjoyable it is to have a glass of such water with a cup of coffee and a cigarette!

The khoja once had a lamb given to him just before St. George's Day, and, on hearing of this, some of his poorer and less reputable friends persuaded him to invite them to the Spring feast, and to slaughter the lamb for the same occasion. They told him that there was no use in his keeping the lamb any longer, for the day after St. George's Day would be the Day of Judgment. The khoja, concluding that perhaps they might be right, killed the lamb and carried it on his back to his friends, that they might roast it on a spit, and then eat it, and pay due tribute to Spring.

The day grew warm and, before the feast began, the guests took off some of their clothes and lay down to sleep, whilst the khoja attended to the roasting of the lamb. But, seeing that the fire was getting low, the resourceful ecclesiastic cast all the clothes of his sleeping friends into the flames.

On awakening they all performed "Namaaz" (the mid-day prayer) together, and then they naturally looked around for their clothes. But their coats and mantles were all missing, and they inquired of the khoja what had become of them.

The khoja innocently told them that he had burned them all, but that this need not distress them or disturb their pleasures in the least. "Today you may feast," quoth the holy man, cheerfully, "and as the day after tomorrow will be the day of the Resurrection, none of you will need any clothes." [2]