Chapter IV

Arrival at Mogador — The Sultan’s letter — Preparations for our journey — The town of Mogador — The neighbouring country — Ravages of locusts — Native races of South Marocco — Excursion to the island — Climate of Mogador — Its influence on consumption — Dinner with the Governor.

At 5 A.M. on April 26 we at length reached the port of Mogador. Before many minutes a boat was alongside, and we were warmly welcomed by a gentleman who introduced himself as Mr. Carstensen, the British Vice-Consul, brother-in-law of Sir J. D. Hay. He was, indeed, no stranger; for, as a correspondent and active contributor to the Royal Gardens at Kew, he had long been in friendly relations with the chief of our party. To his energetic good offices and hospitable attentions we owe deep obligations, and it was with sincere regret that we subsequently heard of his premature death in 1873.

At an early hour we were comfortably established in the British Consulate, where our host and hostess received us as old friends, and we were soon engaged in discussion as to the arrangements for the prosecution of our journey, in all of which Mr. Carstensen’s familiarity with the country and perfect command of the language were of the utmost value. Having received previous notice of our arrival and of the objects of our journey, he had already prepared the way, and thus very much abridged the delays that are inevitable in such a country.

The first step necessary was to call on the Governor and present to him the Sultan’s letter. We were courteously received by El Hadj Hamara, a well-looking man of middle age, in a small plain room, whose only furniture consisted in cushions laid round the walls. After shaking hands in European fashion, we proceeded to seat ourselves, cross-legged—no doubt looking very uncomfortable during the experiment—while the Sultan’s letter was produced. This was written on a small sheet of inferior paper, folded to the size of a note, and sealed with coarse sealing-wax. It was received by the Governor, the seal reverently applied to his forehead, and then broken. After reading aloud the few lines of writing, the Governor handed the letter to Mr. Carstensen, who proceeded to translate literally for our benefit. It ran thus: ‘On receiving this, you will send the English hakeem and his companions to the care of my slave, El Graoui, to whom I have sent orders what he is to do.’ It should be explained that El Graoui, spoken of as the Sultan’s slave, was the Governor of the portion of the Great Atlas that is practically subject to the Imperial authority, and precisely the person whose favour and assistance it was essential for our objects to secure.

To strangers unused to the style of the Marocco Court, the Imperial letter did not seem a very promising document; but it was evident that, so far as the Governor of Mogador was concerned, it conveyed the impression that we were to be treated with respect and attention; and this was doubtless confirmed by the arrival of a courier from Marocco, bearing a letter from the Sultan’s eldest son, then acting as viceroy in the southern provinces of the empire, with orders to take every care for our safety and comfort during the journey to the capital.

We soon had a specimen of the shape in which official protection displays itself in this country. On a representation from Mr. Carstensen that we should require numerous baggage animals, besides horses and mules to ride, the order had gone forth a week before our arrival that no horses or mules should be sold or hired in the town of Mogador until we had selected such as we required. This accordingly was one of our first cares, and the embargo was raised in the course of the day. We followed local advice, confirmed by our own previous experience in warm countries, in choosing mules in preference to horses. On a long journey they are far less liable to be laid up, and, to a scientific traveller who has frequent occasion to dismount, they give less trouble. Their obstinate temper is, however, often annoying, and, though surefooted, they sometimes have a very unpleasant trick of tripping or stumbling over stony ground.

A precaution which we took this day is much to be recommended to travellers. This was to make a trial of pitching our tents on a piece of rough open ground. People readily suppose that a tent that is easily set up in an English lawn must answer their expectations on a march, and have little notion of the amount of discomfort caused by trifling defects. We speedily found that the pegs supplied in England are not nearly hard enough to pierce the stiff-baked clay or stony paste that forms the prevailing soil in this country; and it was fortunate for our comfort that we took from Mogador an ample supply of rough pegs, made from the wood of the argan tree. We were each provided with a tent which satisfied our individual wants, but scarcely corresponded with the native ideas of what befits personages of distinction. We were well aware that in this country _prestige_ was an essential element in success, and therefore willingly accepted the liberal offer of a large handsome native tent made by the local agent of Messrs. Perry & Co. of Liverpool. This was available only for the journey across the plains between Mogador and Marocco, as it was very heavy, forming a load for two camels, and therefore not suitable for a hilly country. It supplied a comparatively spacious saloon, wherein we passed our evenings very pleasantly, before retiring to our separate quarters for the night.

The next matter requiring attention was our costume. It was foreseen that during some part of our journey, at least, it might be expedient to adopt the native dress, or such an approximation to it as would prevent our attracting notice from afar as strange and outlandish creatures. After due deliberation, the _haïk_ was finally rejected. This is the ordinary outer garment of natives of the upper class. An ample robe of fine white woollen stuff is a graceful and picturesque garment, especially on those who know how to group its folds about the person; but it is absolutely incompatible with the free use of the limbs, and more especially for botanists, whose pursuit brings them into frequent contact with the numberless spiny plants of this region. The unsightly _jellabia_, a blouse of rough white woollen stuff, with the addition of a hood that may be drawn over the head, was adopted, and was not found very inconvenient.

Anticipating unavoidable exposure to a nearly vertical sun, we had provided ourselves with the grey pith ventilating helmets so commonly used by Englishmen in the tropics. It was found that by winding round one of these a moderate strip of the usual material for turbans, it might be made to pass muster at a distance. But for head-gear on important occasions the turban was indispensable. The material, a broad band of light muslin, about thirteen or fourteen yards in length, is supplied from England, but the art of winding it round the head requires long practice, and we always resorted to the aid of one of our attendants. It certainly gives protection against a hot sun; but it is never quite convenient to a European of active habits, who finds it hard to acquire the orthodox gravity of Oriental demeanour, and is sadly apt to disturb the folds of the turban by some abrupt movement.

There was one article of dress as to which no compromise was possible. The slippers down at heel that are commonly used by all classes of natives, and even the red or yellow loose boots that are sometimes worn on a journey, were equally unsuited to our habits and pursuits, and we held fast to our accustomed foot-covering.

Mr. Carstensen had kindly made excellent arrangements for our convenience during our journey by selecting such native attendants as we should require. One was told off to each of us as a personal servant, expected to be always in readiness to render any required assistance; and Hooker’s English attendant, Crump, was included in this arrangement. This may appear superfluous, and so it might be to ordinary travellers; but for a party of naturalists anxious to make the best use of their time, it was almost indispensable. Several other men were attached to the camp in various capacities, one of the most useful being a saddler, daily in requisition to repair damage done to leather work; but by far the most important member of our suite was the interpreter to the British Consulate, whose services were spared for fully five weeks. Even with Mr. Carstensen’s thorough knowledge of the language, this must have been felt as a serious inconvenience, for Abraham proved himself active and intelligent; and the duties of a consular agent on the Marocco coast being by no means of a hum-drum character, the need of a man familiar with the country and the people in the capacity of secretary and assistant is daily felt. Being a Marocco Jew, born in a position of relative inferiority to his Mohammedan neighbours, Abraham no doubt felt a keen satisfaction in the sense of security which he derived from his position in the British service. To be able to converse in a tone approaching to equality with powerful officials; to emancipate oneself from restrictions trifling, yet galling, in matters of dress and demeanour; to share in some measure in the vague sense of power vested in the representatives of the great European States—must be the climax of ambition to a member of a despised nationality in a land where neither intelligence nor wealth nor good reputation give a man security or social recognition.

It had been arranged that our escort was to consist of four soldiers, under the command of a _kaïd_, nearly equivalent, as we were told, to a captain in European army rank. This was more than was requisite for security, as, with all its barbarism, the Marocco Government is efficient enough within the parts of the territory where the Sultan’s authority is recognised and feared. Within those limits it is enough to let it be known that a traveller enjoys the Imperial protection; no one will ever think of daring to molest him.

After devoting a good part of the day to indispensable preparations for our future journey, we were free to look about us in the singular little town which, as the chief port of South Marocco, is the last outpost of civilisation on the African coast at this side of the French settlements of Senegal. Like many other places in Marocco, this owes its existence to the caprice of a Sultan. It was founded in 1760 by Sidi Mohammed, the most energetic of recent Moorish sovereigns, and became a considerable place when, a few years later, the same ruler destroyed Agadir, and ordered the merchants established there to remove to Mogador. Jackson tells us that it received its European name from the sanctuary of Sidi Mogodol, standing somewhere among the neighbouring sandhills; but a town of Mogador is shown in a map published in 1608,[1] standing a short way north of the island, which is there marked ‘I. Domegador.’ As have most of those marked on the early maps, the ancient town had doubtless disappeared before the foundation of the present one, called by the Moors Soueira; but the old name must have survived in the country.

The low rocky island lying opposite to the town, and separated by a navigable channel, affords shelter from all winds except those from the SW.; but the depth of water is not great, and there are numerous dangerous reefs, so that in threatening weather steam is always kept up, and ships proceed to sea when SW. winds are expected. Although the island is shown on the oldest maps, and the channel is represented much as we now see it in the plates to Jackson’s work, from drawings made about the beginning of this century, we were positively assured that old people in Mogador recollected the time when the island was connected with the mainland by an isthmus, over which cattle could be driven at low water; and this story seemed to have gained credence with the European inhabitants.

Though it has no buildings of importance, the town is in one respect the most habitable in Marocco, being remarkably clean, and in that respect superior to very many seaports in Europe. This is largely due to the efforts of two intelligent French physicians, who have at various periods visited Mogador, but especially to the exertions of Dr. Thevenin, who has resided there for many years.

The Governor and other officials, with the European consuls and merchants, all reside in the Kasbah—the chief of the three quarters into which the town is divided. Here are several narrow but regularly-built streets; the houses are mostly of two stories, enclosing a small courtyard, which is entered by a low and narrow doorway from the street. In the Moorish town, inhabited by natives of the lower class, the houses are of one story, and poor in appearance; but the practice of whitewashing within and without once every week makes them look clean, and, no doubt, has much to do with the remarkable immunity of this place from contagious and endemic diseases. The Jewish town is much overcrowded; but we were assured that even here the modern gospel of soap and water has made much progress.

In the afternoon we sallied forth with our portfolios; but in deference to public opinion, which could not endure that strangers of consequence should be seen trudging on foot, we rode for about a mile out of the town. Its surroundings are not prepossessing. The low tertiary limestone rock, on which it is built, and which doubtless extends inland for some distance, is covered up to the city walls by blown sand, driven along the shore before the SW. winds, forming dunes that cover the whole surface; and in most directions one may ride two or three miles before encountering any other vegetation than a few paltry attempts at cultivating vegetables for the table within little enclosed plots, whose owners are constantly disputing the ground with the intrusive sand. The chief break in the monotony of the sand ridges is due to the small stream of the Oued Kseb (called Oued el-Ghoreb on Beaudouin’s map), which reaches the sea little more than a mile away on the south side of the town. Much of the water being diverted, the current is not strong enough to keep a channel through the sands, but forms at its mouth a marsh, where many of the most interesting plants of the neighbourhood are to be found. The drip from the small aqueduct that supplies water to the town suffices to give nourishment to other less uncommon species.

Mogador has long been tolerably well known to botanists. It was visited by Broussonet at the latter end of the last century, and was for some time the residence of Schousboë. More recently the neighbourhood has been explored by the late Mr. Lowe and by M. Balansa. We could not, therefore, reasonably expect to find here anything new to science; but our short excursion was nevertheless full of interest, though not altogether of an agreeable kind. We here saw for the first time a district recently ravaged by locusts; and while we acquired a lively sense of the amount of mischief effected by these destructive creatures, we also found out how it happens that the damage is confined within tolerable limits; how, in short, they fail to turn the country into a desert. When one reads the reports of credible eye-witnesses, who describe the arrival of swarms of locusts that devour every green thing, one asks oneself how it can be possible for man or animals to survive such destruction. In the first place, it may be remarked that, like most other sweeping statements, these are not strictly true. The locusts do not, in point of fact, devour every green thing. In the spots where they were most destructive we always remarked that certain plants escaped untouched. The result of this immunity would naturally be to substitute the latter for the species destroyed by the locusts, were there not some very efficient agency for repairing the damage and maintaining the life of the species, if not of the individual. An important element in considering this question is the season at which the mischief is effected. The young locust grows very fast, and it is mainly during the period of growth that it consumes vegetation. When once the animal has attained its full size, it becomes comparatively inert, and its capacity for destruction is vastly diminished. If the swarm of young locusts arrives before the middle of April, when the rainy season is not quite over, the first showers revive the plants that have been devoured almost to the root with surprising rapidity. Perennial species throw out new buds, and are soon again covered with leaf and flower; and the same often happens with annuals, unless these have already shed their seed, and then a new crop soon reappears. It may be supposed that the vast amount of decaying animal matter left on the surface, even in the most barren spot, contributes not a little to the vigour of the vegetation, and thus compensates for the destruction effected at an earlier stage. It is when the swarms appear late, and attack the wheat or maize after the flowers are developed, that the consequences to the population are very serious, and famines result that periodically affect large districts.

In the present year it was clear that rain had fallen since the locust invasion, and although much damage had been done, tolerable specimens of many plants here seen for the first time were to be found. A few of these are common to the Canary Islands and this part of Africa; others are not yet known except on this coast. The most curious of them is the _Senecio_ (_Kleinia_) _pteroneura_, whose succulent almost leafless branches, as thick as a man’s finger, bear a few heads of flowers that differ little, save in their larger size, from those of the common groundsel. Well pleased with our first glance at the South Marocco flora, we returned to our comfortable quarters, and spent a pleasant evening in discussing our future movements, and in drawing upon our host’s ample stores of information respecting the country and its inhabitants.

We were now for the first time brought into contact with the primitive stock of this part of Africa, one main branch of the Bereber race, which is distinguished by speaking some dialect of the Shelluh (Shleuh) language.[2] The affinity of this people with the Berebers of the Lesser Atlas—including under that name the Kabyles of Algeria, with the Riff tribes of North-west Marocco—has been denied, but does not appear to be open to reasonable doubt. The type is physically the same, excepting among some of the tribes south of the Great Atlas, where the intermixture of Negro blood has introduced new and very diverse elements. The languages now spoken among these tribes doubtless exhibit marked differences, especially to the ear of a foreigner. Jackson long ago denied the relationship between the Shelluh and the Bereber, while Washington, in the paper already quoted, came to a contrary conclusion. It may now be considered as beyond question that the differences between the Shelluh and the Kabyle are merely dialectic.[3] The value of linguistic evidence in ethnological inquiries has of late been questioned by eminent critics, and it must be conceded that such evidence, when it merely rests on lexicographical coincidences, is of less value than when it is derived from grammatical structure; yet, after all deductions, the facts remain to be accounted for, and, in the absence of proof to the contrary, it goes far towards proving community of origin. It must be remembered, that unlettered races are subject to far greater and more rapid changes of dialect than those who preserve in sacred books or popular poetry fixed standards of correct speech; add to this, the chances of error when a traveller, communicating with a native through an interpreter, and contending with sounds unusual to his ear, attempts to form a vocabulary. These causes, acting together, tend to increase the difficulty of recognizing linguistic affinities that really exist.

In the absence of any indication of the intrusion of a conquering race that can be supposed to have imposed its language on the previous population, it seems most probable that the native races of North Africa, between the Libyan Desert and the Atlantic coast, including also the Canary Islands, all belong to a single stock, which may best be called Bereber. The two main branches are both mountain peoples. To the north we have the tribes of the Lesser Atlas, extending from the gates of Tetuan to the hill country of Tunis, who may best bear the common name of Kabyles—to the south-west the population of the Great Atlas, from the neighbourhood of Fez to the coast between Agadir and Oued Noun, broken up into numerous tribes, but all speaking some dialect of the same language, and thence called generically Shelluhs. Of the scattered fragments of the Bereber stock that have spread far through the oases of the Great Desert, till they have come into contact with the Negro tribes from the south of that barrier, our information is still most imperfect. In constant conflict with each other, and with the Arab and Negro tribes who dispute with them the scanty means of subsistence that Nature here provides, they appear on the whole to predominate over their competitors. The Touarecks, scattered over a territory as large as half of Europe, from Algeria to Soudan, form a separate branch of the same stock; while we learn from Gerhard Rohlfs that the predatory tribes of the desert south of Marocco are merely Shelluhs who have changed their habits and manner of life to suit altered conditions of existence.

The character of the Bereber has scarcely received justice at the hands either of ancient or modern writers. They have been inconvenient neighbours for those who have sought to encroach on their territory, and they are justly dreaded by the traveller through the Great Desert as the most active and enterprising of the human enemies he must confront or evade. Comparing them with the Moor and Arab population of South Marocco, our report agrees with that of Jackson, who probably knew them better than any other European has done. They are decidedly superior in intelligence, in industry, and general activity to their neighbours. Two of our retinue, selected by Mr. Carstensen among the mountaineers who resort to Mogador to pick up a living about the port, distinguished themselves over all the rest both in physical and mental qualities; and one of these especially, who became Hooker’s personal attendant, showed an amount of general intelligence and unfailing cheerfulness that made him a favourite with the entire party.

On the morning of the 27th we made an excursion to the island. It is formed of an irregular, low, knobby mass of very friable tertiary rock, which seems to yield rapidly to the erosive action of the heavy waves that almost constantly break on its seaward face, where the overhanging cliffs are hollowed into caverns. At the time of our visit it appeared to be uninhabited. Two or three heavy pieces of cannon, honeycombed with rust, lay near the highest point, but seemed never to have been placed in position. A small building was said to have been sometimes used for the custody of State prisoners, but otherwise there was no indication here of the presence of man. In such a spot we expected to find the coast vegetation fully developed, but we counted without the locusts. Nowhere else did we observe such complete destruction. A good many plants growing on the rocks, within constant reach of the sea-spray, had escaped; but on the rest of the island scarcely a green leaf remained, and it required a patient search to discover a few fruits of some leguminous plants that appear to abound in this locality. Of the seaside rock-plants three were supposed to be peculiar to this single spot. _Andryala mogadorensis_, of Cosson, a very showy species of an unattractive genus, has been well figured in the ‘Botanical Magazine’ for 1873; _Frankenia velutina_, the most ornamental species of that variable genus, appeared at first quite distinct, but we were afterwards led to suspect it to be a local form or subspecies of the widely spread perennial _Frankenia_, so common in the Mediterranean region. Both of these we afterwards found on the coast near Saffi. Of the third plant—_Asteriscus imbricatus_, of Decandolle—but a single stunted specimen was found by Ball, and as yet it has no other known habitat. We here saw for the first time a plant which turned out to be rather common in South Marocco, and which was taken by us, as it had been by preceding botanists, to be the _Apteranthes Gussoniana_, of Mikan, first described by Gussone as _Stapelia europæa_, and in truth closely resembling in habit and appearance some of the South African species of _Stapelia_. The fruit, which we afterwards found in abundance, did not appear different from that of Gussone’s plant; but when the specimens carried to England by Maw flowered two years later, the structure of the flower showed that it should be recognised as a distinct species of the group which has received the generic name _Boucerosia_, and it was accordingly published by Hooker, in the ‘Botanical Magazine’ (No. 6137), under the name _Boucerosia maroccana_.

In the course of the day we called on Monsieur Beaumier, the French Consul, in company with Dr. Thevenin, an intelligent physician, who has spent several years at Mogador, much to the advantage of the inhabitants whether Christian or native. M. Beaumier not only received us with the proverbial courtesy of his country, but showed a warm interest in the success of our journey, and kindly supplied us with many items of information, along with manuscript notes prepared by himself during his residence in South Marocco. His premature death, from an illness contracted during a visit to France in 1875, has been a serious loss to the country which he had made his second home.

Amongst other items of information, we owe to M. Beaumier a series of meteorological observations carried on at Mogador with a single interruption for nearly nine years, and supplying all requisite particulars for eight complete years. The results are so remarkable that they have attracted the attention of many physicians, and may probably lead at some not distant date to the selection of this place as a sanitarium for consumptive patients.

Dr. Thevenin mentioned several facts of much interest in their bearing on this question. In the first place, phthisis is all but completely unknown among the inhabitants of this part of Africa; while in Algeria cases are not rare among the natives, and in Egypt they are rather frequent. In the course of ten years he had met but five cases among his very numerous native patients, and in three of these the disease had been contracted at a distance. He further mentioned several cases among Europeans who had arrived in an advanced stage of the disease, on whom the influence of the climate had exercised a remarkable curative effect.

An examination of the tables, showing the results of M. Beaumier’s observations, and especially those for temperature, may help to explain these facts, as they certainly show that Mogador enjoys a more equable climate than any place within the temperate zone as to which we possess accurate information.

It should be mentioned that these observations were made with good instruments, sufficiently well situated on the shady side of the open court-yard of the French Consulate, about thirty feet above the sea level. The hours of observation were 8 A.M., 2 P.M., and 10 P.M.—not perhaps the best that could be selected, but sufficient in a climate where rapid transitions are unknown.

A few of the results here stated in Fahrenheit’s scale are derived from M. Beaumier’s tables as continued to the end of 1874:—

Mean temperature during eight years = 66.9°
Do. for the hottest year (1867) = 68.65
Do. for the coldest year (1872) = 65.75
Mean of the annual maxima = 82.5
Mean of the annual minima = 53.0
Highest temperature observed = 87.8
Lowest temperature observed = 50.7

More striking still is the comparison between the temperature of summer and winter. The following results show the monthly mean temperature, derived from eight years’ observations:—

{June = 70.8
Summer {July = 71.1
{August = 71.2

{December = 61.4
Winter {January = 61.2
{February = 61.8

showing a difference of only 10° of Fahrenheit’s scale between the hottest and coldest months. It has not been possible to ascertain accurately the daily range of the thermometer, as there were no self-recording instruments employed; but there is reason to believe that this would exhibit a still more remarkable proof of the equability of the climate. So far as the observations go they show an ordinary daily range of about 5° Fahr., and rarely exceeding 8° Fahr. It may be added, that in the course of six weeks from our arrival on April 26 to our departure on June 7, the lowest night temperature observed at Mogador was 61° Fahr., and the highest by day 77° Fahr.

If the climate of Mogador be compared with that of such places as Algiers, Madeira (Funchal), and Cairo, which have nearly the same mean winter temperature, it will be found that in each of those places the mercury is occasionally liable to fall considerably below 50°, and that the summer heat is greatly in excess of the limits that suit delicate constitutions, the mean of the three hottest months being about 80° Fahr. at Algiers, about 82° at Funchal, and 85° at Cairo. It will help to complete the impression as to the Mogador climate to say, that rain falls on an average on forty-five days in the year; and that, per 1,000 observations on the state of the sky, the proportions are

Clear 785; Clouded 175; Foggy 40:

the latter entry referring to days when a fog or thick haze prevails in the morning, but disappears before mid-day. The desert wind is scarcely felt at Mogador. On an average it blows on about two days in each year, and on these rare occasions it has much less effect on the thermometer than it has in Madeira, doubtless owing to the protective effect of the chain of the Great Atlas.

These remarkable climatal conditions have been mainly attributed to the influence of the north-east trade wind, which sets along the coast, and prevails, especially in summer, throughout a great part of the year; the average of north and north-east winds being about 271 days out of 365. West and south-west winds blow chiefly in winter on about fifty-seven days in each year, and variable winds from the remaining four points prevail on an average of thirty-seven days. The north-east breeze, increasing in force as the sun approaches the meridian, maintains the exceptionally cool summer temperature already indicated as characteristic of the Mogador climate—a privilege which is not shared by Saffi or Mazagan, where the summer heat is sometimes excessive. It must be noted that although the summer temperature of the interior of Marocco is much higher than that of Mogador, it yet falls far short of what is found in places lying in the same latitude in North Africa or Asia. This is evidently owing to the influence of the Great Atlas chain, with its branches that diverge northward towards the Mediterranean, which screen the entire region from the burning winds of the desert, and send down streams that cover the land with vegetation.

When one comes to consider how it happens that a place possessing such extraordinary natural advantages has not become frequented by the class of invalids to whom climate offers the only chance of recovering health, or prolonging life, the obvious answer is, that invalids cannot live on air alone, and that few persons in that condition have the courage to select a place where they may reasonably expect much difficulty in procuring the comforts and even the necessaries of life, competent medical advice, and some reasonable opportunities for occupation or amusement. The difficulties under the first two heads are perhaps not very serious. Lodging and food may apparently be procured on reasonable terms, and for many years past there has always been a competent French physician residing here. The resources of the place in point of society are of course limited, and must vary with the arrival and departure of the few European residents; but any one fortunate enough to be interested in any branch of natural history would find constant occupation of an agreeable kind in a place where there are not half a dozen days in the year that may not be agreeably passed out of doors.[4]

A special subject, to be earnestly recommended to any competent inquirer, whether invalid or not, who may pass six months at Mogador, is the language and ethnology of the Shelluh branch of the Bereber race. Many of these mountain people come to seek a living at Mogador, and from our experience it would not be difficult to find one who would become a useful servant.

In the course of the day we visited the extensive stores of Messrs. E. Bonnet & Co., who export large quantities of olive oil from the neighbouring provinces. By increased care in the preparation and subsequent purification of the oil, its quality has been much improved. The cultivation of the vine has of late rapidly increased, and wine of tolerable quality has taken a place among the products which Marocco supplies to England.

Notwithstanding all that we had heard of the excellence of the climate, we had to confess that at this season Mogador is not a paradise for the botanist. The NNE. winds come saturated with vapour, and charged with minute particles of salt from the breaking of the Atlantic waves on the reefs near the town; and, as the temperature of the land is scarcely higher than that of the sea, the air has little or no drying effect on paper and plants. The consequence was that Mr. Carstensen’s kitchen was used both by day and night to save our specimens from destruction by damp.

As our interpreter, besides the cook and one or two more of our retinue, were Jews, it was decided that, in order to spare their feelings and those of the Jewish community in Mogador in respect to the Sabbath, we should despatch them along with our heavy baggage on April 28, while we should follow on the succeeding day to the spot where they were to await us. Later in the day, after completing the arrangements for our journey, we went by invitation to dine with the Governor. We found that our host had had a table prepared with chairs for Mrs. Carstensen, who with two European ladies graced the entertainment. Beside them a carpet was spread for Mr. Carstensen and our party; while the Governor himself, with three native functionaries, sat in their usual fashion, cross-legged, on another carpet several yards distant. The first preliminary was the washing of fingers. One attendant bore water, another a brass bowl or basin, and a third presented to each in turn an embroidered towel. This process is always repeated at the close of dinner, and is common to all classes in the country. The feast then began, as every well-ordered Moorish banquet must do, by green tea. Three cups, carefully prepared in the presence of the guests, in a silver teapot half filled with sugar, were handed in succession to each, and then fresh tea, with mint leaves added, is again prepared, and of this decoction the natives usually take one or two cups more. The serious part of the repast then followed. A large dish of coarse earthenware, covered with a conical cap of fine straw, twice the size of a beehive, is laid on a low wooden frame in the centre of the circle of guests. On the present occasion duplicate dishes were prepared for us, and for the Governor and his native friends. When the cover was removed, we were introduced to the national dish which was destined to be our frequent acquaintance during our journey in the South. The basis of _keskossou_ is coarse wheaten, or sometimes millet flour, cooked with butter, for which oil is occasionally substituted. To this is added mutton, lamb, or fowls, cut up into pieces, with various vegetables, either laid on the farinaceous substratum or mixed up with it. Numerous dishes succeeded each other, but they appeared to be all variations on the same gastronomic theme. The cookery on this occasion was better than we often found it; but the pervading flavour of rancid butter, long kept in great earthen pots, is repulsive to European stomachs, and few strangers are ever fortunate enough to be able to enjoy Moorish feasts. To some of us this was the first occasion for practising the art of eating with our fingers, and it was lucky that our host was not at hand to observe the awkwardness of our first essays. We improved somewhat with practice, but never could approach the dexterity and neatness with which the natives accomplish the operation, using only the fingers of the right hand. Conversation was completely drowned during dinner by the native music provided in compliment to the distinguished guests. Four men, squatting on the ground, struck the stretched metal strings of an instrument somewhat resembling a very rude Tyrolese _zither_, and kept up a constant chant or recitation in loud nasal tones, very different from the slow monotonous almost always melancholy songs of the Arabs in the East. These men, on the contrary, declaimed the words with unflagging energy, as though determined that the hearers should understand the story; and it was a moment of intense relief when at the end of dinner the deafening clang of strings and voices ceased. The fingers were again washed, green tea again served, courtesy requiring that each guest should take at least three cups, and then the Governor and his friends advanced and joined our party.

Mr. Carstensen had asked permission to bring some wine for our use during dinner, and afterwards naturally took the occasion to invite the Moors present to take a share. With very slight show of reluctance, they accepted; and, though the quantity consumed was but trifling, the effect was unmistakable. The conversation became very lively, and jokes passed which excited peals of laughter, though most of them evaporated in the process of translation. One of the Moorish guests—Director of the Tobacco monopoly, as we were told—from the first struck us as a man of jovial temperament; and on him the extra glass or two of wine had a potent effect, the jollity culminating in an extemporised dance, reminding one of the dancing bears, once the delight of our youth, that have disappeared since the era of Zoological Gardens. The copious doses of green tea did not prevent some of the party from sleeping; while others sat up till near morning, engaged in the almost hopeless endeavour to get large piles of botanical paper thoroughly dry, before we finally started on our journey into the interior.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: See Appendix C.]

[Footnote 2: The usage of preceding English writers is hereafter followed by writing the name, Shelluh; but to our ears the native pronunciation is more accurately given by the spelling Shleuh or Shloo.]

[Footnote 3: See Appendix H.]

[Footnote 4: Those who are interested in the subject should consult a pamphlet entitled ‘_Mogador et son Climat_,’ par V. Seux, Marseille, 1870, and a paper in the Bulletin of the French Geographical Society for 1875, by Dr. Ollive, now residing at that place, styled ‘_Climat de Mogador et de son influence sur la Phthisie_.’ There are some errors in the tables included in the latter paper, and especially in that headed ‘_Tableau comparatif des Températures moyennes de diverses stations hivernales_.’]