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                       TOLD IN THE COFFEE HOUSE




                       Told in the Coffee House

                             Turkish Tales


                    Collected and done into English
                                  by
                     CYRUS ADLER AND ALLAN RAMSAY


                               New York
                         The Macmillan Company
                     London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd.
                                 1898

                         _All rights reserved_


                           COPYRIGHT, 1898,
                       By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.


                             Norwood Press
                 J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
                         Norwood Mass. U.S.A.




                               PREFACE


In the course of a number of visits to Constantinople, I became much
interested in the tales that are told in the coffee houses. These are
usually little more than rooms, with walls made of small panes of
glass. The furniture consists of a tripod with a contrivance for
holding the kettle, and a fire to keep the coffee boiling. A carpeted
bench traverses the entire length of the room. This is occupied by
turbaned Turks, their legs folded under them, smoking nargilehs or
chibooks or cigarettes, and sipping coffee. A few will be engaged in a
game of backgammon, but the majority enter into conversation, at first
only in syllables, which gradually gives rise to a general discussion.
Finally, some sage of the neighborhood comes in, and the company
appeals to him to settle the point at issue. This he usually does by
telling a story to illustrate his opinion. Some of the stories told on
these occasions are adaptations of those already known in Arabic and
Persian literature, but the Turkish mind gives them a new setting and
a peculiar philosophy. They are characteristic of the habits, customs,
and methods of thought of the people, and for this reason seem worthy
of preservation.

Two of these tales have been taken from the Armenian, and were
received from Dr. K. Ohannassian of Constantinople. For one, _The
Merciful Khan_, I am indebted to Mr. George Kennan. None of them has
been translated from any book or manuscript, and all are, as nearly as
practicable, in the form in which they are usually narrated. Most of
the stories have been collected by Mr. Allan Ramsay, who, by a long
residence in Constantinople, has had special opportunities for
learning to know the modern Turk. It is due to him, however, to say
that for the style and editing he is in no wise responsible, and that
all sins of omission and commission must be laid at my door.

                                                     CYRUS ADLER.
  COSMOS CLUB, WASHINGTON,
     February 1, 1898.




                               CONTENTS


                                                                PAGE
  HOW THE HODJA SAVED ALLAH                                        1
  BETTER IS THE FOLLY OF WOMAN THAN THE WISDOM OF MAN             13
  THE HANOUM AND THE UNJUST CADI                                  23
  WHAT HAPPENED TO HADJI, A MERCHANT OF THE BEZESTAN              29
  HOW THE JUNKMAN TRAVELLED TO FIND TREASURE IN HIS OWN YARD      35
  HOW CHAPKIN HALID BECAME CHIEF DETECTIVE                        43
  HOW COBBLER AHMET BECAME THE CHIEF ASTROLOGER                   52
  THE WISE SON OF ALI PASHA                                       65
  THE MERCIFUL KHAN                                               73
  KING KARA-KUSH OF BITHYNIA                                      77
  THE PRAYER RUG AND THE DISHONEST STEWARD                        80
  THE GOOSE, THE EYE, THE DAUGHTER, AND THE ARM                   84
  THE FORTY WISE MEN                                              89
  HOW THE PRIEST KNEW THAT IT WOULD SNOW                         103
  WHO WAS THE THIRTEENTH SON?                                    107
  PARADISE SOLD BY THE YARD                                      120
  JEW TURNED TURK                                                126
  THE METAMORPHOSIS                                              130
  THE CALIF OMAR                                                 138
  KALAIDJI AVRAM OF BALATA                                       140
  HOW MEHMET ALI PASHA OF EGYPT ADMINISTERED JUSTICE             144
  HOW THE FARMER LEARNED TO CURE HIS WIFE: A TURKISH AESOP        148
  THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS                                          153
  THE SWALLOW'S ADVICE                                           156
  WE KNOW NOT WHAT THE DAWN MAY BRING FORTH                      158
  OLD MEN MADE YOUNG                                             161
  THE BRIBE                                                      165
  HOW THE DEVIL LOST HIS WAGER                                   169
  THE EFFECTS OF RAKI                                            172




HOW THE HODJA SAVED ALLAH


Not far from the famous Mosque Bayezid an old Hodja kept a school, and
very skilfully he taught the rising generation the everlasting lesson
from the Book of Books. Such knowledge had he of human nature that by
a glance at his pupil he could at once tell how long it would take him
to learn a quarter of the Koran. He was known over the whole Empire as
the best reciter and imparter of the Sacred Writings of the Prophet.
For many years this Hodja, famed far and wide as the Hodja of Hodjas,
had taught in this little school. The number of times he had recited
the Book with his pupils is beyond counting; and should we attempt to
consider how often he must have corrected them for some misplaced
word, our beards would grow gray in the endeavor.

Swaying to and fro one day as fast as his old age would let him, and
reciting to his pupils the latter part of one of the chapters, Bakara,
divine inspiration opened his inward eye and led him to pause at the
following sentence: "And he that spends his money in the ways of Allah
is likened unto a grain of wheat that brings forth seven sheaves, and
in each sheaf an hundred grains; and Allah giveth twofold unto whom He
pleaseth." As his pupils, one after the other, recited this verse to
him, he wondered why he had overlooked its meaning for so many years.
Fully convinced that anything either given to Allah, or in the way
that He proposes, was an investment that brought a percentage
undreamed of in known commerce, he dismissed his pupils, and putting
his hand into his bosom drew forth from the many folds of his dress a
bag, and proceeded to count his worldly possessions.

Carefully and attentively he counted and then recounted his money, and
found that if invested in the ways of Allah it would bring a return of
no less than one thousand piasters.

"Think of it," said the Hodja to himself, "one thousand piasters! One
thousand piasters! Mashallah! a fortune."

So, having dismissed his school, he sallied forth, his bag of money in
his hand, and began distributing its contents to the needy that he met
in the highways. Ere many hours had passed the whole of his savings
was gone. The Hodja was very happy; for now he was the creditor in
Allah's books for one thousand piasters.

He returned to his house and ate his evening meal of bread and olives,
and was content.

The next day came. The thousand piasters had not yet arrived. He ate
his bread, he imagined he had olives, and was content.

The third day came. The old Hodja had no bread and he had no olives.
He suffered the pangs of hunger. So when the end of the day had come,
and his pupils had departed to their homes, the Hodja, with a full
heart and an empty stomach, walked out of the town, and soon got
beyond the city walls.

There, where no one could hear him, he lamented his sad fate, and the
great calamity that had befallen him in his old age.

What sin had he committed? What great wrong had his ancestors done,
that the wrath of the Almighty had thus fallen on him, when his
earthly course was well-nigh run?

"Ya! Allah! Allah!" he cried, and beat his breast.

As if in answer to his cry, the howl of the dreaded Fakir Dervish came
over across the plain. In those days the Fakir Dervish was a terror in
the land. He knocked at the door, and it was opened. He asked, and
received food. If refused, life often paid the penalty.

The Hodja's lamentations were now greater than ever; for should the
Dervish ask him for food and the Hodja have nothing to give, he would
certainly be killed.

"Allah! Allah! Allah! Guide me now. Protect one of your faithful
followers," cried the frightened Hodja, and he looked around to see if
there was any one to rescue him from his perilous position. But not a
soul was to be seen, and the walls of the city were five miles
distant. Just then the howl of the Dervish again reached his ear, and
in terror he flew, he knew not whither. As luck would have it he came
upon a tree, up which, although stiff from age and weak from want, the
Hodja, with wonderful agility,