Many of the Jewish women still wear, set well at the back of the head, the old-fashioned pointed head-dress, shaped somewhat like a dunce’s cap, which bears a close resemblance to the “steeple-horn” hats worn by European women of rank in the Middle Ages. From the point of this depends a white silk _haik_ which envelops the whole figure, a form of head-gear still further reminiscent of that worn by the great ladies of medieval Europe. Less frequently one sees the tight-fitting trousers or drawers, which have now been quite generally discarded in favor of the more comfortable if less picturesque pantaloons worn by Moslem women. These nether garments are cut somewhat like riding-breeches save that they fit more tightly to the leg, which is invariably a fat one, so that the effect is comic rather than alluring, particularly as the costume is usually completed by a short, loose, elaborately embroidered garment such as women wear when combing their hair. When arrayed in this costume a Jewish woman looks for all the world as though she had rushed from her boudoir at an alarm of fire without pausing to put on her skirt or take off her dressing-jacket. On Fridays, and on the last day of the month, the Jews of Tunis make an excursion to the Jewish cemetery, which is about a mile and a half outside the town, to visit the graves of their relatives and to lament over the dear departed. For they believe that on those days the spirits of the dead revisit the earth, and hence their weekly visit to the cemetery to keep them company. On either side of the dusty, unshaded avenue which bisects the cemetery are acres of white marble slabs, raised a foot or so above the ground. They are all of the same shape and size, and all on the same level, so that they form what amounts to a vast marble pavement, which beneath the sun becomes as hot as the top of a stove. Seated cross-legged on this terrace are groups of portly Jewesses, their white _haiks_, supported by their pointed bonnets, giving them the appearance of so many cone-shaped tents. And when they rock themselves back and forth, prostrating their corpulent figures in what would appear to be an utter abandonment to anguish, they look like a whole encampment swaying in a heavy wind. It does not take the visitor long to realize, however, that these ostentatious genuflections and lamentations are largely a shibboleth, a simulation of sorrow, being no more indicative of real grief than the behavior of the mourners at the Wailing Place in Jerusalem.