Rotting in the stores of this same custom-house are two grand pianos and
an electric omnibus. The Sultan ordered them, the country paid for
them,--so much was achieved by the commercial energy of the infidel,--and
native energy sufficed to land them; it was exhausted by the effort. If
Mulai Abd-el-Aziz wants his dearly purchased treasure, the ordering and
existence of which he has probably forgotten, he must come to Mazagan for
it, I am afraid, and unless he makes haste it will not be worth much. But
there are many more such shipments in other ports, not to mention the
unopened and forgotten packing cases at Court.

[Illustration: THE HOUR OF SALE]

The Basha of Djedida is a little old man, very rich indeed, and the terror
of the entire Dukala province. I like to watch him as he sits day by day
under the wall of the Kasbah by the side of his own palace, administering
what he is pleased to call justice. Soldiers and slaves stand by to
enforce his decree if need be, plaintiff and defendant lie like tombstones
or advertisements of patent medicines, or telegrams from the seat of war,
but no sign of an emotion lights the old man's face. He tempers justice
with--let us say, diplomacy. The other afternoon a French-protected
subject was charged with sheep-stealing, and I went to the trial. Salam
acted as interpreter for me. The case was simple enough. The defendant had
received some hundred sheep from plaintiff to feed and tend at an agreed
price. From time to time he sent plaintiff the sad news of the death of
certain rams, always among the finest in the flock. Plaintiff, a farmer in
good circumstances, testified to the Unity of Allah and was content to
pray for better luck, until news was brought to him that most of the sheep
reported dead were to be seen in the Friday market fetching good prices.
The news proved true, the report of their death was no more than the