us, too. We will have a merry time. I am tired of the house, and I long for a row on the beautiful river. Let Fatima go for Selim, and make yourself ready at once."

The little boy's mother was already dressed for the excursion. So, while the servants were preparing the lunch and Osman was getting ready, she sat down on a cushion under the trees and idly waited.

She was richly clad in a pink silk mantle with wide sleeves and deep cape. It was so long it reached down to her ankles.

A small, bright-coloured cap, trimmed with pearls, was fitted closely to her head. The thin muslin veil, fastened to this cap, was brought around her face so no part of it could be seen except her soft, kind eyes.

She did not have long to wait before her friends and Selim arrived to join in the day's outing. The slaves, with wraps and carpets, were also ready, and, at a sign from their mistress, the party started out.

How queerly the ladies walked! They waddled along in a clumsy fashion with their skirts tucked up under their mantles and around their waists. They looked like shapeless bundles moving along in loose trousers and clumsy overshoes.

It was only a few steps to the waterside, where boats were waiting for them. The boatmen first helped the ladies to get in and seat themselves on soft cushions; next came the two boys, and, last of all, the servants.

When every one was comfortably settled, and umbrellas had been raised over the ladies' heads to protect them from the strong sunlight, the men bent to their oars and they were off.

The boats were light and very graceful. They were of a kind the Turks call kaiks. They sped onward through the water as the men gave long, strong pulls at the oars.

On and on they went, now rapidly as the river widened; again, they moved more slowly as they entered a narrow stretch of water, almost filled with the boats of other pleasure-seekers.

Sometimes they were obliged to pass under a little wooden bridge. Then it was fun for Osman and Selim to reach up and see if they could touch the floor of the bridge before they left it behind them.

Pretty houses stood here and there on the banks of the river, or groves of trees that seemed to say, "Stop here and rest awhile. I will give you shade and comfort."

But still the rowers kept on, as though their arms would never get tired. They did not speak, these sober-faced men. Each wore a red fez on his head, which made him look hot and uncomfortable in the strong sunshine.

There was a time when all Turks wore soft turbans, which are the best and most comfortable covering for the head. But times are changed now. The great Sultan likes the fez best, and the turban is seen more and more seldom as the years pass by.

At last the party reached a spot where Osman's mother decided to stop. It was a favourite picnic-ground for the people of Constantinople. A pretty grove of trees was growing close to the shore, while, near by, tiny coffee-houses stood here and there in the meadows.

"I hear sweet music," said Osman. "Listen, mamma."

"Yes, it is a wandering player. After we get settled, we will pay him to play for us," answered his mother.

The ladies made themselves comfortable on the rugs their servants spread under the trees. The children wandered about as they liked.