The record-union., 1899-11-19
YUSUF BEYS SOFA CUSHION.

Selim Effendi was hard up for cash.
AS registry clerk in the Candidacy Blu
reau at the Sheikh I'll Islam's office in
old STEAMBOAT he had a salary of $40
a month. His salary had been fixed
under a prevalent theory that live
clerk would discover how to gain SO
or $50 month in presents from the
candidates for appointment as preacher.
for these candidates are always in a
terrible hurry for their papers. Selim
Effendi also had converted this theory
into shrewd and pitiless practice. He
had been lucky, too. Through the kind
ness of his friend and patron, Yusuf
Bey, he had obtained a life ration of
two rolls of white bread per day from
the Fund for the Encouragement of
Theologians, and through his own fore
sight he had composed a laudatOry
poem on a great state occasion which
won for him life annuity of $3.50 per
month from the Fund for Praying
Saints. But his sanguine temperament
made his expenses discount his luck.
After paying the cost of keeping up ap
pearances, for the keep of his horse and
the wages of his groom, for the school
ing of his boys and the hire of a ser
want to attend them to the school, and
for the silks and odd bits of jewelry
which his wife expected out of any par
ticularly fat fee, Selim Effendi regular
ly felt the malignity of Fortune at the
end of each month. His luck then was
to find no money in his pocket to pay
the butcher, the baker and the grocer,
who seem to prefer to sell on credit in
old Stamboul.
One day the baker, standing in mid
street in front of Selim Effendi's closed
door and using that painfully loud tone
common to Constantinople bakers when
addressing recalcitrant customers had
uttered his views on people who take
bread and do not pay for it. Then Selim
Effendi saw that something must be
done. He might change his baker But
this means of relief had already been
resorted to, and the poor clerks favor
lite nightmare was vision of the man
who had formerly enjoyed the privilege
of supplying him with bread coming
forward at some peculiarly embarrass-
ing time and place to create a scene by
his bawling. Turks loathe scenes. So
Selim felt hard up for cash. Then he
bethought of his old friend Yusuf Bey.
Yusuf Bey was best seen for private
affairs at his house. in the morning,
when he was still comfortably lounging.
barefooted and bare armed, in his white
cotton underclothing and the figured
chintz robe known in Turkey as a
nlghtdress. In this airy attire he re-
ceived Selim Effendi with the cordiality
shown by man who has seen life to
one who has helped him see it. He
WINGED little on noting the solemnity
with which, in answer to his inquiry,
Selim Effendi said: II am we'll: to God
be the glory" for by such slight tokens
the Turkish official forsees the purpose
of private call in the morning So
he sklllfully thrust the conversation into \
distant political channels, whence his
visitor would find it hard to return in
any short time to questions of more
limited interest They discussed the
Russian indemnity; the new Grand Viz
ier's low origin, and the words which
cook no dinners" wherewith in Egypt
England was showing friendship to
Turkey. Then Yusuf Bey thoughtlessly
described a most delightful bake of red
mullet in oil, to which his cook had in
troduced him day or two before This
was Selim Effendis opportunity
"Ah, Yusuf Bey, my lamb,' said he.
You will understand my sufferings as
you speak, when you learn that for
months I have not SO much as seen the
bloom of red mullet on my table The
grocer and the baker leave me no
chance to say aught to butcher or fish
monger. The pressure which my baker
puts upon me would squeeze juice out
of rock. And my children! They are
ragged as Lazarus the Jew. Every
night I take refuge in the coffee shop
from their clamor for clothes.'
Keep up your courage, Seim How
ever high mountain is. be sure that
its pass can be found. OF course, hap
py candidates exc out your salary?"
yes, but some misbegotten wretch
has appointed that beggar Sami Eff
fendi supernumerary under my desk
He takes part. You can make the
pass over my mountain of poverty.
Have pity on me, Yusuf Bey! I will
kiss your feet. Lend me Ed and you
will raise me from the dead 1t is No