general, “and you must be punished.” The luckless Moslem in vain protested the contrary. The general informed him that he was sentenced to lose his tongue. The instruments essential to the operation were then produced upon a tray. Then and then only did the Moor forget his dignity. Forgetting his ancestors of Granada and Cordova, he embraced with feverish eagerness the feet of his judge. I need hardly say he was pardoned, and that General Japy was only indulging his sense of humour, and at the same time giving the offender a wholesome lesson in prudence. The incident, however, will become a tradition of the Souk-el-Attarín, and will not be forgotten when the good time does arrive. The present Bey of Tunis has turned one of his picturesque old city palaces into a public school for the Moorish youth. It was at the Sadikya college I first perceived by experience the Moorish capability of witty repartee. It was just after our defeat by the Zulus, and General Sir A. Cunynghame, G.C.B., was going over the institution. He was requested to examine the boys of the first class. The first question he asked was an unfortunate one:—Could the students point out the provinces lost by Turkey during the late war? If a thunderbolt had fallen in the midst of the room, the sensation of horror produced could not have been greater. The head-boy, with wonderful _sang froid_, pointed out the states in question one after another, but he added, “Perhaps _mon genéral_ will condescend to show us the province in which the English have been so often beaten _ces jours çi_.” General Cunynghame took the boy’s shrewd sarcasm in good part, and carried away with him a high idea of the intelligence of the rising generation of Tunisian Moors.