There are occasional communications between Tangier and Tarifa, in Spain, but they are very frequent with Gibraltar.  A vast quantity of European merchandize is imported here from Gibraltar for Fez and the north of Morocco.  All the postal and despatch business also comes through Tangier, which has privileges that few or no other Maroquine cities possess.  The emperors, indeed, have been wont to call it “the City of Christians.”  In the environs, there is at times a good deal of game, and the European residents go out to shoot, as one is wont in other countries to talk a walk.  The principal game is the partridge and hare, and the grand sport, the wild boar.  Our officers of the Gibraltar garrison come over for shooting.  But quackery and humbug exist in everything.  A young gentleman has just arrived from Gibraltar, who had been previously six weeks on his passage from Holland to that place, with his legs infixed in a pair of three-league boots.  He says he has come from Holland on purpose to sport and hunt in Morocco.  Several of the consuls, when they go out sporting, metamorphose themselves into veteran Numidian sportsmen.  You would imagine they were going to hunt lions for months in the ravines of the Atlas, whereas it is only to shoot a stray partridge or a limping hare, or perchance they may meet with a boar.  And this they do for a couple of days, or twenty-four hours, sleeping during the night very snugly under tents, and fed and feasted with milk, fowls, and sheep by the Arabs.

Morocco, like all despotic countries, furnishes some severe examples of the degrading of high functionaries.  There is an old man, Sidi-El-Arby-Es-Said, living there, who is a marked victim of imperial tyranny.  Some years ago, the conqueror despoiled him of all his wealth, and threw him into prison, after he had been twenty years bashaw of this district.  He was in prison one year with his two sons.  The object of the Emperor was to extort the last filse of his money; and he entirely succeeded.  The oppressor, however, relented a little on the death of one of his victim’s sons; released him from confinement, and gave the ex-bashaw two houses, one for himself and the other for his surviving son.  The old captain of the port has been no less than a dozen times in prison, under the exhausting pressure of the Emperor.  After the imperial miser has copiously bled his captain, he lets him out to fill his skin again.  The old gentleman is always merry and loyal, in spite of the treatment from his imperial taskmaster.

Very funny stories are told by the masters of the small craft, who transport the bullocks from hence to Gibraltar.  The government of that place are only allowed to export, at a low duty per annum, a certain number of bullocks.  The contractor’s agents come over; and at the moment of embarking the cattle, something like the following dialogue frequently ensues.

Agent of Contractor.—­“Count away!”

Captain of the Port.—­“One, two, three, &c.  Thirty, forty.  Ah! stop! stop! too many.”