"A turban without a beard shows lack of modesty."

Moorish Proverb.

HÁj Mohammed Et-TÁjir, a grey-bearded worthy, who looks like a prince when he walks abroad, and dwells in a magnificent house, sits during business hours on a diminutive tick and wool mattress, on the floor of a cob-webbed room on one side of an ill-paved, uncovered, dirty court-yard. Light and air are admitted by the door in front of which he sits, while the long side behind him, the two ends, and much of the floor, are packed with valuable cloths, Manchester goods, silk, etc. Two other sides of the court-yard consist of similar stores, one occupied by a couple of Jews, and the other by another fine-looking HÁj, his partner.

Enters a Moor, in common clothing, market basket in hand. He advances to the entrance of the store, and salutes the owner respectfully—"Peace be with thee, Uncle Pilgrim!"

"With thee be peace, O my master," is the reply, and the new-comer is handed a cushion, and motioned to sit on it at the door. "How doest thou?" "How fares thy house?" "How dost thou find thyself this morning?" "Is nothing wrong with thee?" These and similar inquiries[page114] are showered by each on the other, and an equal abundance is returned of such replies as, "Nothing wrong;" "Praise be to God;" "All is well."

When both cease for lack of breath, after a brief pause the new arrival asks, "Have you any of that 'Merican?" (unbleached calico). The dealer puts on an indignant air, as if astonished at being asked such a question. "Have I? There is no counting what I have of it," and he commences to tell his beads, trying to appear indifferent as to whether his visitor buys or not. Presently the latter, also anxious not to appear too eager, exclaims, "Let's look at it." A piece is leisurely handed down, and the customer inquires in a disparaging tone, "How much?"

"Six and a half," and the speaker again appears absorbed in meditation.

"Give thee six," says the customer, rising as if to go.

"Wait, thou art very dear to us; to thee alone will I give a special price, six and a quarter."

"No, no," replies the customer, shaking his finger before his face, as though to emphasize his refusal of even such special terms.

"Al-l-lÁh!" piously breathes the dealer, as he gazes abstractedly out of the door, presently adding in the same devout tone, "There is no god but God! God curse the infidels!"

"Come, I'll give thee six and an okea"—of which latter six and a half go to the 'quarter' peseta or franc of which six were offered.

"No, six and five is the lowest I can take."

The might-be purchaser made his last offer in a half-rising posture, and is now nearly erect as he[page115] says, "Then I can't buy; give it me for six and three," sitting down as though the bargain were struck.

"No, I never sell that quality for less than six and four, and it's a thing I make no profit on; you know that."

The customer doesn't look as though he did, and rising, turns to go.

"Send a man to carry it away," says the dealer.

"At six and three!"

"No, at six and four!" and the customer goes away.

"Send the man, it is thine," is hastily called after him, and in a few moments he returns with a Jewish porter, and pays his "six and three."

So our worthy trader does business all day, and seems to thrive on it. Occasionally a friend drops in to chat and not to buy, and now and then there is a beggar; here is one.

An aged crone she is, of most forbidding countenance, swathed in rags, it is a wonder she can keep together. She leans on a formidable staff, and in a piteous voice, "For the face of the Lord," and "In the name of my Lord Slave-of-the-Able" (Mulai Abd el KÁder, a favourite saint), she begs something "For God." One copper suffices to induce her to call down untold blessings on the head of the donor, and she trudges away in the mud, barefooted, repeating her entreaties till they sound almost a wail, as she turns the next corner. But beggars who can be so easily disposed of at the rate of a hundred and ninety-five for a shilling can hardly be considered troublesome.

A respectable-looking man next walks in with[page116] measured tread, and leaning towards us, says almost in a whisper—

"O Friend of the Prophet, is there anything to-day?"

"Nothing, O my master," is the courteously toned reply, for the beggar appears to be a shareef or noble, and with a "God bless thee," disappears.

A miserable wretch now turns up, and halfway across the yard begins to utter a whine which is speedily cut short by a curt "God help thee!" whereat the visitor turns on his heel and is gone.

With a confident bearing an untidy looking figure enters a moment later, and after due salaams inquires for a special kind of cloth.

"Call to-morrow morning," he is told, for he has not the air of a purchaser, and he takes his departure meekly.

A creaky voice here breaks in from round the corner—

"Hast thou not a copper for the sake of the Lord?"

"No, O my brother."

After a few minutes another female comes on the scene, exhibiting enough of her face to show that it is a mass of sores.

"Only a trifle, in the name of my lord Idrees," she cries, and turns away on being told, "God bring it!"

Then comes a policeman, a makhÁzni, who seats himself amid a shower of salutations—

"Hast thou any more of those selhÁms" (hooded cloaks)?

"Come on the morrow, and thou shalt see."

The explanation of this answer given by the[page117] "merchant" is that he sees such folk only mean to bother him for nothing.

And this appears to be the daily routine of "business," though a good bargain must surely be made some time to have enabled our friend to acquire all the property he has, but so far as an outsider can judge, it must be a slow process. Anyhow, it has heartily tired the writer, who has whiled away the morning penning this account on a cushion on one side of the shop described. Yet it is a fair specimen of what has been observed by him on many a morning in this sleepy land.

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