Mohammed ben Abd Alla was, for a length of time, our most constant visitor. He was a Mamluke, born at Naples, and apostatised when about ten years old. He remained some time at Tripoli; and, when about eighteen years of age, was sent by the Bashaw as a present to the former Sultan. He recollected but little of his native language; was shrewd and lively, and was certainly employed by the Sultan as a spy upon our actions. Having fully ascertained this circumstance, we employed many tricks to deceive him, in which we completely succeeded. One of his great points was, to discover for what reason we came so far into the country, and whether we really were very great men, as we were reported to be. A report had been circulated that Mr. Ritchie was married to the King of England’s daughter, and that I recently had married his Majesty’s niece. As Mohammed affected to be acquainted with all our affairs, we always denied our high connexions in such a manner as to confirm, rather than to contradict, the reports. Our wealth he imagined to be very considerable, until he found we ceased to eat meat, and then his suspicions of our real situation were awakened. As he became excessively importunate in his questions, I at last undertook to frighten him, and after one or two preparatory conversations, got him out on the sand one night when there was no moon. I began talking of King Solomon and his seal, and related to him as many horrible stories of ghosts as I could conjure up. I told him that Mr. Ritchie and myself were Freemasons, and that we understood the writing which was on our Lord Solomon’s seal. On this subject I also invented tales, to convince him that Freemasons were acquainted with every thing. I took him home with me, and (Mr. Ritchie being on that evening pretty well) desired him to mention some words to me, which I would, with his hand over my mouth, convey across the room. I accordingly spelt the words with my fingers, and Mr. Ritchie, to Mohammed’s great astonishment, repeated them aloud. A few repetitions of this plan made a sensible alteration in our inquisitive friend, who, from that time, gradually ceased to intrude on us. Mohammed was particularly proud of his high blood (being a Mamluke), boasting that his father (though an unbeliever) was a very great man, and much in the confidence of the King of Naples, whose revenues he collected, and had a large army under his orders. He also recollected his having fine laced clothes, and riding a horse. We were often much puzzled to guess who this great personage could be, when one evening, by way of surprising and delighting us, he, with great gravity, informed us that his father was a caporale, or, in plain English, a corporal!