In the days that precede departure—­and in Morocco they are always apt to be numerous—­I seek to enter into the life of Djedida.  Sometimes we stroll to the custom-house, where grave and dignified Moors sit in the bare, barnlike office that opens upon the waste ground beyond the port.  There they deliver my shot guns after long and dubious scrutiny of the order from the British Consulate at Tangier.  They also pass certain boxes of stores upon production of a certificate testifying that they paid duty on arrival at the Diplomatic Capital.  These matters, trivial enough to the Western mind, are of weight and moment here, not to be settled lightly or without much consultation.

Rotting in the stores of this same custom-house are two grand pianos and an electric omnibus.  The Sultan ordered them, the country paid for them,—­so much was achieved by the commercial energy of the infidel,—­and native energy sufficed to land them; it was exhausted by the effort.  If Mulai Abd-el-Aziz wants his dearly purchased treasure, the ordering and existence of which he has probably forgotten, he must come to Mazagan for it, I am afraid, and unless he makes haste it will not be worth much.  But there are many more such shipments in other ports, not to mention the unopened and forgotten packing cases at Court.

[Illustration:  THE HOUR OF SALE]

The Basha of Djedida is a little old man, very rich indeed, and the terror of the entire Dukala province.  I like to watch him as he sits day by day under the wall of the Kasbah by the side of his own palace, administering what he is pleased to call justice.  Soldiers and slaves stand by to enforce his decree if need be, plaintiff and defendant lie like tombstones or advertisements of patent medicines, or telegrams from the seat of war, but no sign of an emotion lights the old man’s face.  He tempers justice with—­let us say, diplomacy.  The other afternoon a French-protected subject was charged with sheep-stealing, and I went to the trial.  Salam acted as interpreter for me.  The case was simple enough.  The defendant had received some hundred sheep from plaintiff to feed and tend at an agreed price.  From time to time he sent plaintiff the sad news of the death of certain rams, always among the finest in the flock.  Plaintiff, a farmer in good circumstances, testified to the Unity of Allah and was content to pray for better luck, until news was brought to him that most of the sheep reported dead were to be seen in the Friday market fetching good prices.  The news proved true, the report of their death was no more than the defendant’s intelligent anticipation of events, and the action arose out of it.  To be sure, the plaintiff had presented a fine sheep to the Basha, but the defendant was a French subject by protection, and the Vice-Consul of his adopted nation was there to see fair play.  Under these circumstances the defendant lied with an assurance that must have helped to convince himself; his friends