in vain!_

CHRISTMAS DAY in a Mohammedan city passed with nothing to mark it except
deluges of rain. The fonda had not grown upon us; and when two Moorish
houses in the city at last presented themselves, the result of weeks of
inquiry, we decided to take one, if, as was apparently the case, a
garden-house outside the city was not to be had for love or money. The
Moors all told us it was impossible. The fact is, that they are chary of
letting their houses to unbelievers: the thing is not encouraged in the
land; indeed, they are liable to be imprisoned for doing so, unless they
have "protection" from a foreigner.

All sorts of complications have arisen out of permission granted to
Europeans to settle in the country: it depends on the European; he does
something foolish, and legal or social or religious difficulties arise,
and a storm in a teacup may end in serious dispute and a heavy indemnity
to pay. So, naturally enough, the Sultan's advisers are averse to
extending the limits of property owned by Europeans, and the barriers
which they put in the way, debar ordinary people from running up villas
and committing outrages such as half the world endures in silence.

In Morocco it is necessary first of all to obtain the consent of the
Government for the purchase of land. Interest can sometimes do it, and
the pill must be heavily gilt. The next obstacle lies with Moorish
jurisdiction, which, with forethought, sets forth that all disputes
relating to property shall be referred to native courts and settled by
Moorish law. This opens a door to barefaced bribery and intimidation:
some one will be fleeced. Last of all, Moorish workmen building for an
Englishman or any foreigner are liable to persecution and arrest. Thus
foreign labour must be employed. And how is foreign labour to be had? A
Jew or Spaniard may not be available. It is scarcely less difficult to
rent a house in Morocco, unless it is in Tangier.

Of the two which were thus unexpectedly offered us one was out of the
question--it was damp; but the other, standing empty in a long narrow
alley in the middle of the city, was as sound as houses built of rubbish
and thin bricks can be, and we went to look over it, well prepared to
ignore petty defects.

It was entered, as usual, by a wide yellow door, studded with giant nails
and a resounding knocker: a courtyard house--a most quaint and original
construction in which to spend two or three months. From the
ochre-colo