We took ship at Gibraltar for Morocco, a pleasant sail of not more than three hours. As the steamer drew near the shore a swarm of boats rowed by turbaned Moors came out to meet us. Tangier lies at the foot of a spur of the Atlas Mountains on the edge of an almost circular bay; from the boat it looked like a round white pearl set in a ring of yellow sand. We clambered into a small craft rowed by four Moors and crowded with rival guides and interpreters who fought for us and our possessions. A young Jew, Abraham Levy, won the fight. Ferguson, finding us too small game for his picking, had handed us on to him. We soon found that in Morocco the Jew stands for what in some parts of the world the Christian stands for,--education, intelligence, cleanliness; in a word, the higher civilization. The Moors are a fine race, tall, handsome, with haughty austere faces and a pride of bearing I have yet to see surpassed. At the city gate our porters laid down our luggage at the feet of three grave Moors dressed in white turbans and bournouses, reclining gracefully in a small cell smoking keef, a mixture of hashish and snuff. No word was spoken; the Moors looked calmly at us and we at them for what seemed a long time. Then the eldest of the trio nodded, the bearers took up our traps and we passed through the gate into the city. “All right,” whispered Abraham, “you see I understand these people. Did you ever pass through a customhouse so easily?” None of us had guessed that it was a customhouse! The whole life of Tangier seems to be lived in the streets. The market is a perfect babel of strange tongues. Veiled women seated on the ground sell queer flat loaves of bread and great bunches of violets. The stalls are piled with golden tangerines, tiny limes, mammoth lemons, scarlet peppers, purple eggplant--every fruit or vegetable you ever saw and many you never heard of! The children are very handsome with enormous eyes and skins of bronze velvet! The Moorish is the best Oriental dress I have seen, save that of the Bedouins of the Pyramids, which it resembles. Abraham piloted us through a maze of narrow twisted streets crowded with strange figures; Moors in white bournouses, Jews in black gaberdines, negro slaves with gashed cheeks and wild-looking Berbers with blue eyes, the descendants of white men settled centuries ago in the hills and fiercer looking even than the Moors....