 she, "that will be a great treat, for she has never seen
any."

"It is not possible!" I exclaimed.

"Indeed it is. You forget the Mohammedans do not allow pictures
anywhere in their houses, and the little books I have to teach the
children from are French ones without illustrations."

By this time I had gotten a book of Natural History, and, taking the
little girl on my knees, I said I would show her something. I opened
the book at random, and I shall never forget the look upon Fareedie's
face, nor the quiver that ran through her little body, when she saw the
picture and screamed out, "_Tigre! Tigre!_"

At this Ali ran to us and the two turned over the pages hurriedly,
mentioning the names of each animal they knew, with a delight I cannot
describe to you.

Then Ali said, "Perhaps, Madame, it may be you have a picture of an
engine of a ship--is it so?"

(This sentence of Ali's I have translated for fear it would be hard for
you, if I gave it in French. You remember he did not know English.)

"Now what shall I do!" I thought, "for I don't know anything about
engines, and I don't know where to find any pictures of them;" but
the black eyes helped in the search, and before I could think where
to look the boy seized upon a copy of the _Scientific American_, and
there, fortunately, were several pictures of engines and boilers. He
did not move for a long time afterward, except to say, "It is a regret
that I do not know the English to read." He sat as still as a statue,
perfectly absorbed, even pale, so intense were his feelings.

Soon Prexea, my slender Syrian maid, came in and announced that tea was
served. Prexea was a Greek in religion and hated the Turks, so she was
not in a good humor, as I knew very well by the way she opened the door.

Fareedie ran into the dining-room, but Ali evidently did not wish to
lay down his paper, till Mrs. Smith gently told him he must; then he
obeyed.

"A table! Chairs! How droll! How droll!" cried Fareedie.

And now a great difficulty presented itself. They had never sat at a
table, and I had no high chairs for them. They always sat on the floor,
on a rug, to eat, and had a low Arabic table put in front of each of
them. Their tables are about eighteen inches high, made of olive wood
inlaid with mother-of-pearl and silver, perhaps all silver. As to
dishes, the children seldom had even a bowl.

Arabic bread is very peculiar. It is baked in thin flat cakes, about
the size of a dinner plate, and does not look in the least like bread,
more like leather. The children usually had one of these cakes for the
dish, and all that they were to have to eat would be put on it, then
another cake would be given to them which they would break in pieces,
using them as spoons, and last of all, eating spoons and dish, too.

So you can imagine how surprised they were when they saw my table. But
what about chairs for them? A brilliant idea struck me. I ran to the
bookcase and got two dictionaries, which I put on the chairs they were
to occupy, and with Ali on Webster's and Fareedie on Worcester's, we
began our meal.

Ali had been very serious during these proceedings and, as soon as we
were seated, he pointed to my sideboard and the silver on it, and said
impressively, "_Très magnifique!_"

The knives and forks were too much for them. They sawed away with the
one and speared the food with the other so ineffectively, that we told
them they might eat with their fingers, which they did very nicely.

I had tea and coffee, sandwiches, cold chicken, blackberry jam, and
other sweets and cake. The sandwiches were of eggs, not ham, of course;
for it would have been an insult to their parents to have let them
taste pork, which is held in great abhorrence by all Mohammedans. Why,
many of them will not wear European shoes, for fear the bristles of
swine may have been used in sewing them.

Both children asked for coffee "_à la Frank_," as they called it. They
had never seen it with cream in it, nor served in anything but a tiny
Oriental cup. I gave it to them in our own coffee cups, with plenty of
cream in, and they stirred it with their spoons and said it was "very
grand."

Fareedie was a little sloppy, I must confess, but otherwise they
behaved very politely.

But the questions they asked! Fareedie was an animated interrogation
point, I thought; and after tea Ali lost his impassiveness, and went
round the house examining everything with curiosity, especially
anything that could be moved, or had casters on it.

At last the visit was over. My tall "cawass" came in and announced
the carriage was at the door to take them home. With many promises to
come again, they went away, kissing me lovingly, Ali with the coveted
_Scientific American_ under his arm, and Fareedie with a cup and saucer
her little heart had longed for.

But they never did come, and I never saw them anywhere again. For,
Wasif Effendi, the Secretary of the Pasha, hated Mrs. Smith, and by
some underhand means contrived to have her dismissed. Then Midhat
was transferred to Smyrna, and my little friends left Beirût,
never to return, I fear. Perhaps you know the Pasha was ordered to
Constantinople and tried for the murder of the Sultan Abdul Aziz. It
was proved that he had been an accomplice, and he was exiled for life,
to a place called Jeddah.

And there on the shores of the terrible Red Sea, near Mecca, and far
from all civilizing and good influences, my dear little friends are
forced to live. Their father is dead, but his family are still at
Jeddah.

You would be surprised to know how often I think of them, and how sad
it makes me. Their future is full of peril. I wonder if they ever think
of me!


II.

A JAPANESE DINNER.


THE dinner was given at the _Koyokan_, a club-house in the city of
Tokio, so called from the abundance of maple trees by which it is
surrounded; _kōyō_ meaning the red maple leaves of autumn, and _kan_
meaning house.

We took off our shoes at the door, and those who had not been
sufficiently provident to bring with them a pair of wool slippers,
entered in their stocking feet.

We were at once greeted by our host and hostess. Japanese ladies do
not often act the hostess at a dinner-party, but usually remain in
the background. Our friend, however, having travelled considerably in
America and Europe, was advanced in his ideas, and gave his wife a
wife's place.

Several beautiful Japanese girls were in waiting who at once conducted
us to a spacious dining-room on the second floor.

Going out on the long piazza adjoining, we saw in the distance the bay
with its calm blue waters and white-winged boats; and to the right
Mount Fuji, her peerless head losing itself in ambient clouds; while at
our feet lay a bewildering maze of dwelling houses, shops, and temples.

The floor of the porch was polished smooth as marble, and the patterns
in the lattice work were graceful combinations of maple leaves.

As we re-entered the dining-room our first impression was that of a
vast empty apartment. The only visible signs of preparation for our
coming were the cushions upon which we were to sit, and the _hibachi_
or fire bowls, over which we were to toast our fingers. We sat down
upon the mats, trying hard to fold our limbs under us _à la Japanese_,
but our attempts were for the most part very awkward.

Then came some introductions. Our host had invited two friends to meet
us, Mr. and Mrs. Suyita. Mr. Suyita, being a Japanese of the old school
and very ceremonious, bowed low, so low that his honorable nose quite
kissed the floor; and remembering that when we are in Turkey we must
do as the Turkeys do, we endeavored to salute him in the same formal
manner.

At length recovering our equilibrium we resumed our old position on
the mats, tried to look comfortable, and began to study the details
of our surroundings. The cushions upon which we sat were covered with
beautiful dark-blue crêpe relieved here and there by branches