1870.] 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST 
465 
jars. I nsed to wonder what sort of jars they were, and 
little did I then think that I should ever visit the lands of 
the East and see such jars, and hear the same stories of 
the Arabian Nights Entertainments told on the banks of 
the Bospborus. 
Not many months ago I was in the Orient, and saw the 
story-tellers of (he East with crowds aronnd them listen- 
ing to their marvelous tales — the same that gave me such 
pleasure when I was a boy— which have been told at 
thousands of firesides in our own country, ana which, for 
hundreds of years have been rehearsed over and over 
again in the cafes of Constantinople and Damascus, in 
their feet and hands at the fountain. Then they sit cross- 
legged upon the floor and smoke their loug-siemmed pipes. 
Some of them use the NagheU— which has a flexible tube 
several feet in length, attached to a glass, shaped like a 
decanter, partly filled with water perfumed with the otto 
of roses, through which they draw the smoke, sucking 
it through a tube which has an amber mouthpiece. The 
air causes the water to bubble, and when there are fifty 
or a hundred najkelies going at once in a cafe, there is a 
constant bubbling. 
Servauts with red caps (or fezes, as they are called) on 
their heads, and long, black silk tassels dangling down 
TIIE STOKY-TELLEK. 
the valley of the Euphrates, and in the tents of the Bed- 
ouins of the desert, and always to gratified listeners. 
The people of the East delight in stories. They do not 
have many books, and there are few newspapers orprint- 
ing presses. They have no Lyceum lectures, noi public 
discussions of any questions. They obtain their news 
from travelers and story-tellers who go from town to town, 
and from cafe to cafe. The story-teller of the Orient is 
an important personage. It is his profession to tell 
Htories. lie earns his living in that way. ?f ho is a good 
story -teller, if lie has a pleasant voice, and if he is lively 
and interesting, he becomes popular, and is treated with 
great courtesy and respect, and quite likely becomes a 
rich man. 
A cafe is a place where the people of the Orient refresh 
themselves when weary. It Is not quite like our restau- 
rants, and not at alt like a lager-beer saloon. Yon see 
no small pine tables covered with mugs, no sanded floors, 
| nor spittoons, nor tobacco juice ; no old haircloth sofas 
nor rickety chairs— no bar with casks of gin and whiskey 
behind it ; tnit you will And a pleasant apartment, with a 
clean swept floor, covered with mats woven with threads 
! eilv r and gold. The room is lofty, and the ceiling 
jeoilS with golden stars ; vines are twining round the 
pillars supporting the massive roof. Flowers bloom and 
fountains euud up their silvery spray in the adjoining 
court. In such a place the Turks and Arabs of the eastern 
citltis assemble to refresh themselves when their work 
for the day is over. 
Tho first thing Qono when they enter a cafe, 13 to wa'sh 
their backs, pass to and fro amid the throng of cross- 
legged sitters, with silver trays, serving them with figs, 
oranges, grapes, melons, dates, pineapples, sweetmeats, 
and confectionary, and tiny cups of thick, black coffee— 
sweet, and very delicious, after one learns to like it. 
When the cafe is well filled, the story-teller enters, 
wearing a blue or crimson satin robe with a sash, yellow 
trowscrs, big enough for meal bags, red morocco slip- 
pers, and a white turban, and taking his seat on the ros- 
trum, commences his story; just as likely as not the 
hearers may have listened to it a hundred times, but if 
he tells it well they are never weary of hearing it. It 
may beaboutthe "Forty Thieves," or about the "Spirit 
that was shut up in a bottle;" it must be a marvelous 
story, or there must be some wit about it, or it must have 
a moral, and be told with a great deal of spirit, energy, 
and action, to be acceptable. When the teller gets along 
to an interesting part, an attendant goes through the 
crowd to take whatevcrthe listeners are disposed to give. 
If he has succeeded in pleasing them— if it has been a 
story about the bravery of a heroin battle, or if it. has 
been a tender love affair, if it has excited them, they toss 
In the piasters (small copper coins) with a liberal hand, 
and, thus encouraged, he becomes more eloquent and 
energetic, and the listeners stroke their beards again and 
again, to express (heir pleasure at his effort. 
When I was in Damascus I saw the story-tellers in the 
beautiful gardens of that city, watered by tho Abana and 
Fliarpar rivers that we read about in the Bible. Tho 
ghnfenig are flllod with flowers and are eka'dJd by groves 
of orange, almond, and pomegranate trees. The almond- 
trees were in blossom and their pure white flowers filled 
the air with fragrance. The orange-trees were loaded 
with golden fruit, and beneath them, suspended from the 
branches, were hundreds of beautiful lamps— red, white, 
blue, green, and yellow — casting their varying lights, 
with all the hues of the rainbow, upon the enchanting 
scene. The smokers sat on their costly carpets and 
listened to the story-teller, and seemed well pleased with 
what he was saying. 
One day when I was on the Bospborus, I stepped on 
board a steamer and sailed up the bcantiful river from 
Constantinople, towards the Black Sea. The steamer 
passed stately palaces standing on the shore, plowed its 
way through innumerable boats, until at last it brought 
us to a little village called Bcbec. where there is an old 
house which was built by one of the Grand Viziers of the 
Sultan. It was curiously constructed; the ceilings were 
gorgeously painted, and the window sashes curiously 
carved. The Grand. Vizie-r had an cventfnl life, and when 
I heard about his adventures, I thought them almost 
equal to any of the stories that I used to hear in child- 
hood ; and I dare say that they have often been rehearsed 
by the story-tellers of the East to their admiring audi- 
ences, and I am sure that you will like to hear about him. 
Tears ago — some time in the last century— there was a 
little shop for the sale of bread in Stamboul, (a part of 
Constantinople), kept by a young Greek named Johannes. 
Opposite the bread shop a young Turk, named Ibraham, 
kept pipes and tobacco. Though of different nationali- 
ties and religions, a warm friendship— an affection like 
that between David and Jonathan, sprung up between 
the two. One day the Pasha of Bagdad came to do hom- 
age to the Sublime Porte, and Ibrabam made the acquaint- 
ance of some one in the suite, who had wonderful stories 
to relate of Eastern lands. Love for adventure took pos- 
session of Ibraham, and he put up the shutters of his 
shop, saying to Johannes that be was going to try bis 
luck in the world. It was a sad parting, but Ibrabam had 
pluck and resolution. " I mean to be somebody," said 
he, " but whatever I am I never shall forget you, Jo- 
hannes, and I shall always be your friend." 
It would require much time to tell of all bis adventures 
— how he became a follower in the train of the Pasha ; 
of his arrival at Bagdad ; how be became pipe-bearer to 
the Pasha; then something else; something better; 
working his way up ; bettering his fortunes through the 
years ; holding the position of secretary, chief officer, and 
at last, himself a Pasha; Governor of Bagdad; then 
called to Stamboul, and made Grand Vizier, — the highest 
office in the gift of the Sultan. 
All these years Johannes was selling bread in the 
bazaar,— a steady, industrious man, with a wife and chil- 
dren. One day a company of soldiers appeared in front 
of the shop and told him he must go to the palace v of the 
Grand Vizier. In those days men were tied up in sacks 
and tossed into the Bospborus, just as you would drown 
a cat, or their heads were chopped off without ceremony 
on a block, which you may still see at the entrance of 
[Concluded on next page.'] 
Wew IPnizzIes lo l>e Ansivered. 
No. 897. IUustiated jftftm.— Something that ought :kv 
or to be found true. 
Cliarade.— My first is a Friar of orders gray, 
My next did Bluebeard's wife betray, 
My who!. 1 is an animal resembling nir.n, 
Xow tell me" dear gucVscr, my name if you can. 
