No better illustration of the system can be found than the fact that strangers are informed, as of something extraordinary and unexampled, that one old man now lives at Tetuan who long held a high and confidential post in the government, and yet was allowed to retire without being ‘squeezed!’ The truth is, that he had gained the good-will and confidence of the representatives of the European Powers, and that it was urged upon the late Sultan that the credit of his government would suffer, if, after a long course of faithful service, the minister were to undergo the common fate of his colleagues. Some twenty years before, when one of our party visited Tetuan, the whole province was thrown into confusion by one of these customary acts of the then reigning Sultan. Hash Hash, a man of unusual capacity and energy, had governed the province of Tetuan for many years with extraordinary success. He kept the turbulent Riff mountaineers in order, and, so it was said, Jew and Christian, under his rule, enjoyed the same security as the Moor. At length he received messengers from the Court with the gift of a white horse richly caparisoned, and an autograph letter from his sovereign full of commendation and winding up with an invitation to the capital, then fixed at Fez. He started on the fatal journey, but arrived only to be flung into a dungeon and subjected to daily torture. Soldiers were sent to Tetuan, where his house was pillaged, his wives and children led to prison, while the absence of all control led to a rapid growth of crime in the district, and life and property were no longer thought safe in the surrounding country. [Illustration:_J. B. delt._ TETUAN] The approach to Tetuan presented the most picturesque scene that we anywhere beheld in Marocco. Begirt with a lofty wall, set at short intervals with massive square towers, the city shows from a distance only a few mosques and a heavy, frowning heap of masonry that forms the castle or citadel. It stands on the slope of a limestone hill, some two hundred feet above the river, which flows through a broad valley, rich with the most brilliant vegetation. After riding for hours over the thirsty hills, it was a delight to rest the eyes on the patches of emerald meadow, and on the darker green of the luxuriant orchards, where the best oranges in the world grow along with figs, almonds, peaches, and all our common tree fruit. Amidst all this wealth of greenery many a little white house—a mere cube of chalk—gleamed brightly. Most of these seem to belong to peasant owners, but some are kiosks to which the wealthier inhabitants repair to escape from the heat and bad air of the town.