To pass through the Bab Souika, in Tunis, is to enter another world, to go back into history for a thousand years; its ancient portals frame a fascinating picture of the Djamaa Sidi Mahrez, which suggests, without actually resembling, Santa Sophia in Constantinople] When the French occupied Tunisia they announced that they would respect the religious prejudices of the Moslems in those cities whose inhabitants offered no resistance. Kairouan, the holy city of Africa, in sanctity inferior only to Mecca itself, disregarded this ultimatum, which explains why unbelievers have the privilege of entering its mosques and other sacred buildings. But the people of Tunis did not actively oppose the occupation and consequently its mosques and marabouts’ tombs, its Moslem schools and cemeteries, may not be polluted by infidel feet. In thus excluding from their places of worship the adherents of other faiths, the Moslems have the coöperation of the French authorities, the doors of the mosques bearing a warning printed in four languages: “_Reservé au culte mussulman. Entrée interdite._” To disregard this injunction, either by attempting to enter a mosque or to gain a surreptitious glimpse of its interior from without, is to invite serious trouble. Religious fanaticism runs high in Tunisia, and, even if the intruder escaped serious injury at the hands of infuriated natives, he would almost certainly feel the heavy hand of the French law; for the French have spared no effort to gain the friendship and confidence of the native population, and they have no intention of permitting the amicable relations which exist between the races to be endangered by the inquisitiveness of some irresponsible European. Yet there are certain high points in the city accessible to Christians, from which, by not making themselves conspicuous, they can look down unmolested upon some of the mosques, catching distant glimpses of their marble-paved courts and richly tiled cloisters. There are one or two such spots in the Souk-des-Attarins, for example, from which can be seen the central court of the Djamaa-es-Zeitouna, or Mosque of the Olive Tree, the largest sanctuary in the city. From the lofty minaret of this venerable edifice close on thirteen centuries look down upon you, for it dates from the end of the seventh century, though its marble columns, spoils from Carthage, are at least a thousand years older. Like most of the great mosques of Islam, it is also a college, where several hundred Moslem youths receive instruction in literature, philosophy, mathematics, history, and religion.