I replied that I had no opportunity of doing so, as I had not one single copy either in the Arabic language or character. That the few Testaments which were in my possession were in the Spanish language, and were intended for circulation amongst the Christians of Tangier, to whom they might be serviceable, as they all understood the language. It was night, and I was seated in the _wustuddur_ of Joanna Correa, in company with Pascual Fava, the Genoese. The old man’s favourite subject of discourse appeared to be religion, and he professed unbounded love for the Saviour, and the deepest sense of gratitude for his miraculous atonement for the sins of mankind. I should have listened to him with pleasure had he not smelt very strongly of liquor, and by certain incoherences of language and wildness of manner given indications of being in some degree the worse for it. Suddenly two figures appeared beneath the doorway; one was that of a bareheaded and bare-legged Moorish boy of about ten years of age, dressed in a _gelaba_. He guided by the hand an old man, whom I at once recognized as one of the Algerines, the good Moslems of whom the old _mahasni_ had spoken in terms of praise in the morning whilst we ascended the street of the Siarrin. He was very short of stature and dirty in his dress; the lower part of his face was covered with a stubbly white beard; before his eyes he wore a large pair of spectacles, from which he evidently received but little benefit, as he required the assistance of the guide at every step. The two advanced a little way into the _wustuddur_, and there stopped. Pascual Fava no sooner beheld them, than assuming a jovial air he started nimbly up, and leaning on his stick, for he had a bent leg, limped to a cupboard, out of which he took a bottle and poured out a glass of wine, singing in the broken kind of Spanish used by the Moors of the coast— “Argelino, Moro fino, No beber vino, Ni comer tocino.” {382} He then handed the wine to the old Moor, who drank it off, and then, led by the boy, made for the door without saying a word. “_Hade mushe halal_,” {383a} said I to him with a loud voice. “_Cul shee halal_,” {383b} said the old Moor, turning his sightless and spectacled eyes in the direction from which my voice reached him. “Of everything which God has given, it is lawful for the children of God to partake.”