sweeping over it. On the shore, there was no appearance of life, much
less of trade and shipping. All had abandoned it, save a guard, who lay
stretched at the gate of the waterport, like a grim watch-dog. From this
place, we proceeded to the merchants' quarter of the town, which was
solitary and immersed in profound gloom. Altogether, my first
impressions of Mogador were most unfavourable, I went to bed and dreamt
of winds and seas, and struggled with tempests the greater part of the
night. Then I was shipwrecked off the Canaries; thrown on the coast of
Wadnoun, and made a slave by the wild Arabs wandering in the Desert--I
awoke.

Mr. Phillips, mine host, soon became my right-hand man. His
extraordinary character, and the adventures of his life are worth a
brief notice. Phillips said he was descended from those York Jews, who,
on refusing to pay a contribution levied on them by one of our most
Christian kings, had a tooth drawn out every morning (without the aid of
chloroform), until they satisfied the cruel avarice of the tyrant. In
person, Phillips was a smart old gentleman, with the ordinary lineaments
of his race stamped on his countenance. The greater part of his life has
been spent in South America, where he attained the honours of
aide-de-camp to Bolivar. In those sanguinary revolutions, heaving with
the birth of the young republic, he had often been shut up in the
capilla to be shot, and was rescued always by the Jesuit fathers, who
pitied and saved the poor Jew, on his expressing himself favourable to
Christianity. Returning to England, after twenty years' absence, his
mother did not fully recognize him, until he one day got up and admired,
with youthful ardour, a china figure on the chimney-piece, which had
been his toy in his boyhood. On the occurrence of this little domestic
incident, the mother passionately embraced her lost prodigal, once dead,
but now "alive again." Phillips came to Mogador on a military