folk came in from the surrounding country in an interminable stream, and installed themselves in some open space, reserved from time immemorial for their use.  The sheep, geese, goats, and large-horned cattle were grouped in the centre, awaiting purchasers.  Market-gardeners, fishermen, fowlers and gazelle-hunters, potters, and small tradesmen, squatted on the roadsides or against the houses, and offered their wares for the inspection of their customers, heaped up in reed baskets, or piled on low round tables:  vegetables and fruits, loaves or cakes baked during the night, meat either raw or cooked in various ways, stuffs, perfumes, ornaments,—­all the necessities and luxuries of daily life.  It was a good opportunity for the workpeople, as well as for the townsfolk, to lay in a store of provisions at a cheaper rate than from the ordinary shops; and they took advantage of it, each according to his means.

Business was mostly carried on by barter.  The purchasers brought with them some product of their toil—­a new tool, a pair of shoes, a reed mat, pots of unguents or cordials; often, too, rows of cowries and a small box full of rings, each weighing a “tabnu,” made of copper, silver, or even gold, all destined to be bartered for such things as they needed.  When it came to be a question of some large animal or of objects of considerable value, the discussions which arose were keen and stormy:  it was necessary to be agreed not only as to the amount, but as to the nature of the payment to be made, and to draw up a sort of invoice, or in fact an inventory, in which beds, sticks, honey, oil, pick-axes, and garments, all figure as equivalents for a bull or a she-ass.  Smaller retail bargains did not demand so many or such complicated calculations.  Two townsfolk stop for a moment in front of a fellah who offers onions and corn in a basket for sale.  The first appears to possess no other circulating medium than two necklaces made of glass beads or many-coloured enamelled terra-cotta; the other flourishes about a circular fan with a wooden handle, and one of those triangular contrivances used by cooks for blowing up the fire.  “Here is a fine necklace which will suit you,” cries the former, “it is just what you are wanting;” while the other breaks in with:  “Here is a fan and a ventilator.”  The fellah, however, does not let himself be disconcerted by this double attack, and proceeding methodically, he takes one of the necklaces to examine it at his leisure:  “Give it to me to look at, that I may fix the price.”  The one asks too much, the other offers too little; after many concessions, they at last come to an agreement, and settle on the number of onions or the quantity of grain which corresponds exactly with the value of the necklace or the fan.  A little further on, a customer wishes to get some perfumes in exchange for a pair of sandals, and conscientiously praises his wares:  “Here,” says he, “is a strong pair of shoes.”  But the merchant has no wish to be shod just then, and demands