One day I saw a fisherman without a turban, sitting on a rock, beside him a sleeping bundle of homespun _haik_. They were a pretty pair, and with my kodak I proceeded out to where they were, going cautiously, intending to get a picture, from behind, of the shaved head and its single trailing scalp-lock. But the fisherman discovered me and hurriedly lifted the hood of his jeleba, muttering something. The sound waked the sleeping bundle, which moved itself a moment, then poked out a likewise shaven head and a youthful face thinly covered with sprouting beard. ‘You English man?’ said the head. ‘No, ’Merican,’ I replied. ‘Dat’s better; more richer. Open you mouth and show dis chap you got gold teeth.’ I did as he bade and disappointed him. ‘Me woman,’ he continued. ‘A bearded woman,’ I suggested; at which he laughed and explained (still lying on his back) that he had been to Earl’s Court once, in a show, that he had had no beard then, being but sixteen, and because he wore what seemed to Londoners to be a feminine attire they all thought he was a woman. The Arab quarter of Tangier is entirely Moorish. The _kasbah_ or citadel, high above the water of the Straits, has its own walls, as is customary, and within these, though the architecture may not be so fine as that at Fez, there is yet no Christian and no Christian way; it is thoroughly Moorish. The tourist may enter without a guide and poke his way through the heavy arches and the stair-like streets. He may go into the square where the Basha governing the district, like the Sultan at the capital, receives delegations and hears the messages of tribesmen in trouble; but the infidel, even though he be a foreign minister, may not enter mosque or fort or arsenal, or any other place except the residence of the kaid who is in command. He may look in, however, at the door of the prison and even talk to victims crowded within, but there is much grumbling and no doubt some cursing if he goes away forgetting to distribute francs among the dozen jailers whose ‘graft’--to use an expressive American term--is to make a living in this way from Europeans. There is one man in prison here who speaks a little English and tells you that he has been in jail for more than ten long years and will be there for ever, for he has no money and his friends are far up country. He was imprisoned, so he says, because a rival told the Basha that he had smuggled arms from Spain. Now smuggling arms is a trade that meets, in ports where consuls do not interfere, with speedy execution. Not many years ago this punishment was meted out to some offenders even in Tangier. There is a graphic story of one such killing told in a book by an Italian, De Amicis, published many years ago: