rough rugs and carpets, delighting in being able to rest at last, and in a cool atmosphere, after the heat of our journey—and with every promise, too, of escaping the rigorous cold at night. The old Shereef remained below in a small room, which in his younger days, when he resided at Dads, he had built himself, with plaster walls and some rough Moorish painting on the ceiling, and a horseshoe window opening on to the street, some 20 feet above the roadway. Here, no doubt, he interviewed the members of his family that he had abandoned for so long, and doubtless, too, listened to the reproaches of the wives he had deserted for nine years or so. However, all the male relations and a number of friends of the house trooped up to our quarters, and as most of them knew Arabic well, the conversation flowed cheerily enough over the excellent hot dishes of food that they brought us. Then came Moorish tea, with quantities of sugar and mint, I presiding at the tray, in the seat of honour, for I was the stranger of the party, and therefore the most honoured. A splendid handsome group of men they formed, these hosts of ours and their friends, and clean withal, which added very considerably to the pleasure of their company. What questions they asked!—not the rude personal questions the Arab pesters one with, but as to what was going on in Morocco, and how our little party had fared on the way; and even more general than their interrogations were their protestations of welcome. Very welcome they made us too, bringing from their various houses great dishes of food—plain stuff enough, but none the less acceptable—and keeping the day as a sort of holiday. It may seem to the reader that almost every page of this book contains references as to what we obtained to eat; but on a journey in which one tasted meat only twice in a month, and when often we walked forty miles with nothing more than dates or inferior dried figs to dine and sup and breakfast on, it is wonderful how important a _souvenir de voyage_ is the remembrance of the rare occasions on which we satisfied our hunger, or, as on our arrival at Dads, we did more, and actually had enough to eat and to spare. I quickly made friends with the natives of the place, and before our guests departed, so as to give us an opportunity to sleep after our weary journey, [Illustration: _Inside the Village of Aït bu Haddu, at Dads._] we had arranged to meet again later in the afternoon, and walk about in the gardens which line the river-banks. Meanwhile, I think some description ought to be given as to the appearance of the men I found myself among and their womenkind.