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WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES.




=FOREWORD=


Which of us has yet forgotten that first day when we set foot in
Barbary? Those first impressions, as the gorgeous East with all its
countless sounds and colours, forms and odours, burst upon us; mingled
pleasures and disgusts, all new, undreamed-of, or our wildest dreams
enhanced! Those yelling, struggling crowds of boatmen, porters,
donkey-boys; guides, thieves, and busy-bodies; clad in mingled finery
and tatters; European, native, nondescript; a weird, incongruous
medley--such as is always produced when East meets West--how they did
astonish and amuse us! How we laughed (some trembling inwardly) and
then, what letters we wrote home!

One-and-twenty years have passed since that experience entranced the
present writer, and although he has repeated it as far as possible in
practically every other oriental country, each fresh visit to Morocco
brings back somewhat of the glamour of that maiden plunge, and
somewhat of that youthful ardour, as the old associations are renewed.
Nothing he has seen elsewhere excels Morocco in point of life and
colour save Bokhára; and only in certain parts of India or in China is