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aching eyes. At last he took in the full contents. She had been in the Park; she had seen him; had had him pointed out to her. How strange that he had not known her! it was as good as a play to see how he watched the women, while she stood at his elbow. She had seen Mr. Henry F.. the famous author, there. The whole world was laughing over his "William Ambrose." She was dying for a new sensation, and she was going to read the book as soon as she could get a copy. She believed the printers' presses could not turn them out fast enough.

At this point Mr. R. put down the letter, and his eyes filled with tears of disappointment, because he had missed her. He lay with them closed, feeling the scent of her apple-blossom. Then he opened them and looked languidly about the room. A cold breakfast, unfit for a sick man. stood by his bed. The disorder of last night was in the room. The fire was still unlit, and the light came sadly through the cobwebbed and dusty windows.

He felt the wretchedness of it all. and he sighed, with n half inclination towards the comfort and cleanliness of the Hammersmith cottage, amid its verdant woods and fields.

A little later and the doctor was by bls bedside. There was a new respect in his manner. The famous Mr. F. had informed him of bis illustrious patient. There was a hackney coach at the door, by Mr. F.'s orders, to convey Mr. R. to his home at Hammersmith. The doctor begged leave to accompany Mr. R. to his own house. Everything should be done for his comfort .

After all, it was like heaven to lie in the clean lavender-smelling sheets and look out at the yellow rose wreathing the window, and the fresh country sky; and to hear the birds sing, and to have Bessie doing everything to alleviate his discomfort as only she knew how. He

rattled like a wheezing bellows, and every breath he drew was torture.

For a few days, he was too Hi to. feel even the prickings of conscience. At last he awoke easier, and found half a dozen pink letters on his coverlet. He read through them by slow degrees. She had been to Essex Court in hopes to buy a book from him: she bnd stood and peered in at his window; she had waited on his doorstep. But she had seen nothing of him. Perhaps now they would not meet. She must return to Devonshire at the week-end. She had got "William Ambrose" at last, and was vastly delighted with it. Some one had said to her that it was the death of sentiment. Positively, before she left town, she must meet the delightful author.

it passed over the sick man's head without troubling him. This world of the feather-bed and the white curtains, between which now and again his Bessie's kind faithful eyes looked, was so far away from the scent of apple-blossoms and the ring of chestnut hair and the coquette who had tortured him.

A few days more and he was out of doors on a sofa. The warm weather had come back, and it was pleasant to lie all day with closed eyes, to be forgiven and caressed.

There was a rustle of silk near him, and he looked up to see a lady standing by his couch; she was not far short of middle age, but she was comely, with a wandering brown eye and a meaning smile.

"Poor Strephon!" she said, in a mincing, affected voice. "After all. Dulcinea could not go without seeing thee. So thou hast been ill. i broke away from my husband, Sir Ralph, to visit thee. The good man loves me too well not to be jealous."

She was wearing pink as he had fancied she would. Her full figure almost burst her stays; aud under the wide pink hat. tied with blue ribbons, her guns, though carried in the marketplace, were not, as a rule, taken into the town. But once l saw the goodhumored host, Abd-el-Kerim, rise and depart, and before he set out sling a large cutlass about him. "l suppose." said the shereef, in answer to my question, "he has an enemy." No one else took the least notice.

Once, as l sat there, a company of people came in, all robed in white, with hoods pulled over their heads; the leader, a man of about thirty, began rapidly, but with impressive utterance, to declaim a form of words, and it came with a sort of shock to me to hear the youths who followed 'him chime in at the close, amen. While he went through a series of these prayers, punctuated with the amens close and sharp as volley-flring, the shereef explained to me that this was a scribe with pupils training to be scribes; that they left their college and went on tour for a while, asking alms from town to town in order to provide for the great festivity with which their holiday opened. When the prayers ended, one of the pupils went through the company collecting pence, and as he went past l gave my contribution to the shereef to offer. But the scribe stopped short, looked a little confused, and said hurriedly (so the shereef interpreted) that he offered prayers for money and that he could not offer prayers for an infidel. However, when we explained that it was the gift of a scribe to a scribe and that l was willing to forego my part in the prayers, he bowed and smiled courteously, and with his pupils vanished into the night, to resume his collections elsewhere.

Such small traits of usage can be seen in a hundred places in Tangier. l did not stray beyond Abd-el-Kerim's fold, partly because of my liking for his genial weicome, partly because of a belief that the less one moves about in a country, where all is strange, the

more one sees, But the place in which l really feel that l saw something of Moorish life was the little port of Laraiche, some fifty miles from Tangier, where l was detained by foul weather for a matter of ten days, There were Europeans here, about one in a thousand of the population, but one hardly saw them; they managed nothing except the steamer traffic. Doubtless the rules which governed the town could be suspended or evaded for their benefit, but not always, The gates of Laraiche, for example, shut at sundown, after that the ordinary person could not enter or go out, and travellers, camped in the market-place outside, had to complete their purchases in good time. Once, moreover. after a ride in the surrounding country, 1 found the town shut against ine not long after noon; and my shereef explained that it was a Friday, the Moorish Sunday, and the hour of prayer. Long ago in Andalusia. Spaniards had fallen on a town and surprised it. while the whole body of believers were at their devotions; since then it was the usage to bar out all comers during that snored hour. All this discipline of life, normal everywhere else in Morocco, is not found in Tangier.

Nor was this the only curtailment of liberty. At half-past eight a gun was fired, and after it no one was entitled to walk the streets, l am bound to say that my shereef disregarded the rule, but he was, to begin with, a shereef. and. to go on with, a Russian subject: it is the extraordinary practice of European nations in Morocco to issue protections to favored Moors, enabling these citizens to defy their own Government. Moreover, he was acquainted with the authorities, as l found when we went to view the prison.—which again marked the contrast between Morocco and Tangier. For at Tangier everybody goes as a matter of course to see the gaols, where prisoners stick niticance of that uudecorative apparitiou. Then indeed you understand that Tangier is not Morocco at all, that it is an excrescence on the country, a lodgment of the European bacillus, a Moorish city where the European, if he does not rule, at least prevents the Moor from ruling, where a compromise between two civilizations is arrived at by accepting the vices of both.

Of course even In Tangier Moorish life exists unaffected by the influence of the stranger; but the stranger in a general way will not see it. Moorish homes are closed against him, the mosques are inaccessible; there remains only the market-place, which he does see, and the cafes, which he does not. Your guide will undoubtedly take you to a place where Moorish musicians play and sing, where you may see well-dressed Moors smoking and playing cards. But these Moors are generally professional guides; there are seats specially provided for the European; for his edification the walls are covered with a glare of tawdry decoration, and to him the band look for payment, after they have finished the wild tune which quickens strident strings and clashing cymbals to a savage whirl of battle fury,—the tune to which the Moors conquered Spain. A strange irony, is it not? Yet every genuine Moor, though he may come begging to you for pence in exchange for some trivial service, believes impllcity that the proper place for his foot is on the neck of the European.

The real thing can of course be seen easily enough, but the ordinary guide will not take you to see it, nor does the ordinary resident go to the really Moorish cafes. The reason is sufficiently simple: one goes at the risk of a certain most unromantlc affliction. But the friend under whose auspices I went to Morocco (commended by him to the Moorish gentleman who had been his companion during several

LIVING ACE. VOL. XXXV. 1856

years of residence and travel up and down the country) told me that it was worth while to take the risk, though he himself had expended large sums on the admirable Keating. I followed his advice (with tolerable impunity too); and though I have pleasant memories of rides about Tangier, of bargaining in little shops, and of watching the ever-changing pageant of the marketplace and the streets, what I really saw of Morocco in Tangier I saw In this manner.

It is the usage of the hillmen when they come to Tangier to gather in a cafe kept by some man of their own clan; near my hotel on the marketplace was a row of these cafes, and the owner of one had served my friend. Here I used to spend hours with my guide, a shereef belonging to the same clan; and here one saw no trace of the European. The accommodation was of the simplest. Against the wall of a stable-yard were built party-walls, dividing the space, so that each cafe when roofed over made a single long room perhaps twenty-five feet by twelve. This was carpeted with matting, and at the entrance sackcloth was thrown down, on which shoes bad to be left. To the right of the door was a large barrel of water; in the corner, to the left, the charcoal fire, set high up in a stove, over which tea and coffee were always preparing, cup by cup. A couple of stools and boxes stood by the water-tank, and hero I used to sit: the Moors squatted cross-legged on the floor, and of an evening they would be dose as sardines in a tin. The whole picture was in tones of brown, for all these countrymen wore the jelab, or cloak, of brown sackcloth, sometimes tagged here and there with red and green, and though a few might be turbaned, the generality wore round their heads either a rope of camel's hair, or the brown cloth rifle-case. A goodly show of rifles hung on the walls, for guns, though carried in the marketplace, were not, as a rule, taken into the town. But once I saw the goodhumored host, Abd-el-Kerim, rise and depart, and before he set out sling a large cutlass about him. "I suppose," said the shereef, in answer to my question, "he has an enemy." No one else took the least notice.

Once, as I sat there, a company of people came in, all robed in white, with hoods pulled over their heads; the leader, a man of about thirty, began rapidly, but with impressive utterance, to declaim a form of words, and it came with a sort of shock to me to hear the youths who followed 'him chime in at the close, amen. While he went through a series of these prayers, punctuated With the aniens close and sharp as volley-firing, the shereef explained to me that this was a scribe with pupils training to be scribes; that they left their college and went on tour for a while, asking alms from town to town In order to provide for the great festivity with which their holiday opened. When the prayers ended, one of the pupils went through the company collecting pence, and as he went past I gave my contribution to the shereef to offer. But the scribe stopped short, looked a little confused, and said hurriedly (so the shereef interpreted) that he offered prayers for money and that he could not offer prayers for an infidel. However, when we explained that it was the gift of a scribe to a scribe and that I was willing to forego my part in the prayers, he bowed and smiled courteously, and with his pupils vanished into the night, to resume his collections elsewhere.

Such small traits of usage can be seen in a hundred places in Tangier. I did not stray beyond Abd-el-Kerim's fold, partly because of my liking for his genial welcome, partly because of a belief that the less one moves about In a country, where all is strange, the

more one sees. But the place in which I really feel that I saw something of Moorish life was the little port of Laraiche, some fifty miles from Tangier, where I was detained by fool weather for a matter of ten days. There were Europeans here, about one in a thousand of the population, bnt one hardly saw them; they managed nothing except the steamer traffic. Doubtless the rules which governed the town could be suspended or evaded for their benefit, but not always. The gates of Laraiche, for example, shut at sundown, after that the ordinary person could not enter or go out, and travellers, camped In the market-place outside, had to complete their purchases in good time. Once, moreover, after a tride in the surrounding country, I found the town shut against me not long after noon; and my shereef explained that it was a Friday, the Moorish Sunday, and the hour of prayer. Long ago in Andalusia. Spaniards had fallen on a town and surprised it while the whole body of believers were at their devotions; since then It was the usage to bar out all comers during that sacred hour. All this discipline of life, normal everywhere else in Morocco, is not found in Tangier.

Nor was this the only curtailment of liberty. At half-past eight a gun was fired, and after it no one was entitled to walk the streets. I am bound to say that my shereef disregarded the rule, but lie was, to begin with, a shereef. and. to go on with, a Russian subject: it is the extraordinary practice of European nations In Morocco to issue protections to favored Moors, enabling these citizens to defy their own Government Moreover, he was acquainted with the authorities, as I found when we went to view the prison.—which again marked the contrast between Morocco and Tangier. For at Tangier everybody goes as a matter of course to see the gaols, where prisoners stick their heads through a wicket and accost you volubly (I noted with Interest that every Inmate of the town-gaol was a fluent speaker of English), and where the gaoler Is an oily impertinent ruffian, with a hand Indecently itching for tips. Here at Laralche the prison was an edifice of some dignity; a strong place, it guarded the more Important captives, kaids and other high officials in disgrace, and no communication was permitted. Outside it, in a sort of guardhouse at the entrance, on a cushioned seat, reclined an elderly but very handsome Moor, faultlessly arrayed in dark blue and white. This was no less a person than the Khalifa, and the shereef presented me. I expressed my thanks for civilities which we had received, and my admiration for his town; and we parted as we had met with a long hand-clasp, suggestive of a masonic grip. His hands, I noticed, were cared for like a woman's, plump and well-shaped. Many times after that I thought of the Scriptural phrase of greetings in the market-place; for I would meet the Khalifa often in my strolling through the town, and though I had no more words than salaamah, nor he than addio, we always met as friends, and I could see glances and gestures among the bystanders which made me feel my social position heightened.

The market-place within the walls struck me as more beautiful architecturally than anything In Tangier. It had Indeed none of the richness In ornament which make the great gateways to the mosques so exquisite In the more flourishing towns; that minute chiselling Is a marvel of workmanship. I saw In Tangier an artist or artisan at work on a wall, cutting the plaster Into the likeness of a honeycomb; the cells were chiselled two or three inches deep, and slanted upwards so that the eye pierced into the depth of shadow. But although at Laralche there was no sin

gle splendor, the total effect was excellent; for this oblong enclosure, perhaps a hundred yards in length, was Irregular In its lines; the two colonnades, with their rows of shops inside (Jews in the western, Moors In the eastern arcade), were charmingly proportioned, and it seemed to me an added beauty that the arcades were not parallel, but as you looked towards the gate of the citadel, they Inclined towards each other. And in the far distance, near the gate, one perceived another tiny arcade in which on warm days the Khalifa sat in Judgment. The front of the citadel was of fine red brick, decorated with the commonest and most effective of Moorish devices for a frieze, crescent-shaped tiles set with the points alternately upwards and downwards, and overlapping so that two points met in the arc of each crescent. The color of the tiles is always a dark green, which after some exposure in the sun takes a flecked gloss, like snake-skin. The same color is always used to paint the heavy doors, splendidly patterned with heavy Iron studs, which are a beautiful feature of Moorish streets, though nothing could more emphasize the excluslveness of a Moorish interior.

And indeed, if the stricter sect had their way. It is not only from the houses that the European would be shut out. We spent our first night camped uncomfortably In the dirty market-place outside the walls; next day, by the Khalifa's invitation, we moved in and camped on the great Portuguese-built wall. Here we had been lodged a day or two. when one evening the shereef, returning with me, was stopped by a tall white-robed figure. In a few minutes he Joined me explaining that this was the "holy man" of the town, who had come to express his displeasure at finding an infidel camped "on the wall of the holy fort." "But." added the shereef, "he

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