,
he is found with his obtuse head bent over his prey, digging out its
eyes by the spoonful.

By noontide the troop is naturally famished. A luncheon, has, however,
been prepared by the thoughtfulness of the agha. Riding up to a tent
which appears as by magic in the wilderness, the provisions for a
sumptuous repast are discovered. Two fires are burning in the open
air, and are surrounded by a host of servants or followers. The Roumi
and their host adjourn from the neighborhood of the preparations, and
are served under a plane tree beautiful as that whose limbs were hung
by Xerxes with bracelets. A soup, absolutely set on fire with red
pepper, introduces the repast: pancakes follow, and various meats
smothered with eggs or onions. Then two half-naked cooks stagger
up bearing on a wooden dish, under a gold-bordered napkin, a sheep
roasted entire and still impaled with the spit. The chief cook takes
hold of the skewer and draws it violently toward himself, applying
a smart stroke with his naked heel to the tail of the creature--a
contact which would seem almost as trying as the ancient ordeal of
the ploughshares, or as the red-hot horseshoes which the fire-eating
marabouts are accustomed to dance upon. The Roumi travelers taste
the succulent viand, taste again, eat till ashamed, and are ready to
declare that never was mutton properly dressed before. If possible,
they vow to introduce the undissected roast, the bonfire, the spit
and the cook with imperturbable heel into the cuisine of less-favored
lands more distant from the sun.

[Illustration: AN ARAB MARKET.]

Champagne, which the cunning Mussulmans do not consider as wine,
washes the meal, and coffee and pale perfumed tobacco supplement it.
But when the appetite has retired and permitted some sharpness to the
ordinary senses, the travelers are amazed at the gradual and silent
increase which has taken place in their numbers. Every group of guests
is augmented by a circle of prone and creeping forms that, springing
apparently from the earth, are busily breaking the fragments of the
feast under the care of the servitors, who appear, rather to encourage
than repel them. Ben-Ali-Cherif, being interrogated, replies calmly,
"They are Tofailians."

The Tofailian is a parasite on system, an idler who elevates his belly
into a divinity, or at least a principle. His prophet or exemplar is a
certain Tofail, whose doctrine is expressed in a few practical rules,
respectfully ob