I had numberless volunteers to conduct me to Fez.  All came begging for this honour and lucrative employment.  Whatever may be said of the virtues of hospitality, I found all the world alike in its determination to make the most of strangers, if not to devour them.  But the Emperor was not at Fez; he was in the southern capital, and it was necessary for me to go via Mogador, to endeavour to obtain an interview with him at that place.

The dreary monotony of Moorish life was one day broken in upon by a juvenile strolling singer, who attracted a crowd of silent and attentive listeners.  It was a grateful sight to see old men, with long and silvery beards, reclining in mute and serious attention; young men lounging in the pride and consciousness of animal strength; little children intermixed, but without prattle or merriment—­all fixed and fascinated with the charm of vocal song.  The vocalist himself was a picturesque object; his face was burnt black with Afric’s sun, his bare head was wildly covered with long, black matted, and curly hair, but his eye was soft and serene; and, as he stretched his throat upwards to give compass to his voice, he seemed as if he would catch inspiration from the Prophet in heaven.  A coarse brown blanket enveloped his spare and way-worn body, his only clothing and shelter from the heat by day and the cold by night, a fold of which fell upon his naked feet.

The voice of the Arab vocalist was extremely plaintive, even to the tones and inflections of distress, and the burden of his song was of religion and of love—­two sentiments which all pure minds delight to combine.  When he stopped a moment to take breath, a murmur of applause vibrated through the still air of the evening, not indeed for the youth, but for God! [8] for it was a prayer of the artless and enraptured bystanders, invoking Allah to bless the singing lad, and also to bless them, while ascribing all praise to the Deity.

This devout scene raised the Moors greatly in my estimation.  I thought men could not be barbarians, or even a jealous or vindictive race, who were charmed with such simple melody of sounds, and with sentiments so pure and true to nature.

The Arab youth sang:—­

  Oh, there’s none but the One God! 
  I’ll journey over the Desert far
  To seek my love the fairest of maidens;
  The camels moan loudly to carry me thither,
  Gainly are they, and fleeter than the swift-legged ostrich. 
  Oh, there’s none but the One God!

  What though the Desert wind slay me;
  What of it? death is from God. 
  And woe to me!  I cannot repine. 
  But I’ll away to the abode of my love,
  I’ll embrace her with all my strength,
  I’ll bear her back thence, and rest her on my couch. 
  Oh, there’s none but the One God!

So sang in plaintive accents the youth, until the last ray of the sun lingered on the minarets’ tops, when, by the louder and authoritative voice of the Muezin calling the Faithful to prayers, this crowd of the worshippers of song and vocal harmony was dispersed to meet again, and forthwith chant a more solemn strain.  The poor lad of the streets and highways went into the mosque along with his motley group of admirers; and all blended their voices and devotion together in prayer and adoration, lowly and in profound prostration, before the Great Allah!