In this strain the Taleb continued lecturing me, until he was
interrupted by a Berber of Rif.

The Rifian.--"Christian, Engleez, come to our mountains. I will conduct
you to the Emir, on whom is the blessing of God. Come to the Emir,
come."

Traveller.--"No, I've nothing to do with war."

The Rifian.--"Ah! ah! ah! I know you are a necromancer. Cannot you tell
me where money is buried? I want money very bad. Give me a peseta."

Traveller.--"Not I. I am going to see your Emperor."

The Rifian.--"Ah! ah! ah! that is right; give him plenty of money. Muley
Abd Errahman hoards up money always. If you give him plenty of money,
you will be placed on a horse and ride by his side."

The inhabitants of Barbary all bury their money. The secret is confided
to a single person, who often is taken ill, and dies before he can
discover the hiding place to his surviving relatives. Millions of
dollars are lost in this way. The people, conscious of their secret
practice, are always on the scent for concealed treasures.

One Friday, some Jews asked the governor of the custom-house to grant
them their clearance-papers, because they were, early on the Sunday
following, to depart for Gibraltar. The governor said, "Come to-morrow."
"No," replied the Jews, "we cannot, it's our feast." "Well," returned
the governor, "you Jews have your feasts, the Christians have theirs,