The grand cicerone for the English at Tangier, is Benoliel.  He is a man of about sixty years of age, and initiated into the sublimest mysteries of the consular politics of the Shereefs.  Ben is full of anecdotes of everybody and everything from the emperor on the Shreefian throne, down to the mad and ragged dervish in the streets.  Our cicerone keeps a book, in which the names of all his English guests have been from time to time inscribed.  His visitors have been principally officers from Gibraltar, who come here for a few days sporting.  On the bombardment of Tangier, Ben left the country with other fugitives.  The Moorish rabble plundered his house; and many valuables which were there concealed, pledged by persons belonging to Tangier, were carried away; Ben was therefore ruined.  Some foolish people at Gibraltar told Ben, that the streets of London were paved with gold, or, at any rate, that, inasmuch as he (Ben) had in his time entertained so many Englishmen at his hospitable establishment at Tangier (for which, however, he was well paid), he would be sure to make his fortune by a visit to England.  I afterwards met Ben accidentally in the streets of London, in great distress.  Some friends of the Anti-Slavery Society subscribed a small sum for him, and sent him back to his family in Gibraltar.  Poor Ben was astonished to find as much misery in the streets of our own metropolis, as in any town of Morocco.  Regarding his co-religionists in England, Ben observed with bitterness, “The Jews there are no good; they are very blackguards.”  He was disappointed at their want of liberality, as well as their want of sympathy for Morocco Jews.  Ben thought he knew everything, and the ways of this wicked world, but this visit to England convinced him he must begin the world over again.  Our cicerone is very shrewd; withal is blessed with a good share of common sense; is by no means bigoted against Mahometans or Christians, and is one of the more respectable of the Barbary Jews.  His information on Morocco, is, however, so mixed up with the marvellous, that only a person well acquainted with North Africa can distinguish the probable from the improbable, or separate the wheat from the chaff.  Ben has a large family, like most of the Maroquine Jews; but the great attraction of his family is a most beautiful daughter, with a complexion of jasmine, and locks of the raven; a perfect Rachel in loveliness, proving fully the assertion of Ali Bey, and all other travellers in Morocco, that the fairest women in this country are the Jewesses.  Ben is the type of many a Barbary Jew, who, to considerable intelligence, and a few grains of what may be called fair English honesty, unites the ordinarily deteriorated character of men, and especially Jews, bora and brought up under oppressive governments.  Ben would sell you to the Emperor for a moderate price; and so would the Jewish consular agents of Morocco.  A traveller in this country must, therefore, never trust a Maroquine Jew in a matter of vital importance.