was
for plotting against his life. In the common gaol, heavily chained, under
the same roof with the herd of common prisoners, all they were allowed
was a curtain across one corner, behind which they sat. The Prime
Minister died there. The Minister of War is there to-day, March 1902,
and, after over seven years' confinement, getting fat. Some members of
the Rahamna tribe are there also. This tribe, which belongs to the far
south, near Morocco City, about eight years ago was in a state of
rebellion, to quell which the Sultan sent his army with orders to _eat
them up_. Their fat lands and fine gardens were ruined; men, women, and
children killed and taken prisoners; while six hundred of them were sent
to the Tetuan prison, and a great number--I do not know exactly--went to
Rabat. That was eight years ago. Sixty of them are in Tetuan prison now,
the remnant of six hundred. There is a kaid among them who is very ill,
dying: the eight years have done for him.

Since this was written, an order has come from the Sultan for the release
of the Rahamna tribesmen. In Rabat, unfortunately, almost all who were in
the Kasbah prison died long ago. Its insanitary condition has earned for
it the name of _Dar-el-Mout_ (the House of Death). But in the other
prison there were survivors. These came out with traces of the late
governor's butchery.

For trying to send a written petition to the Sultan three years ago,
which set forth their condition, and prayed that after five years'
confinement they might be considered to have paid for their rebellious
deeds, and be allowed to return to their own land for the last years of
their lives, the late governor, Ba Hamed, gave orders that their hands
should be mutilated. A knife was drawn across the back of the wrist,
cutting the extensor tendons of the hand: the hand was packed with salt,
and sewn up in wet cow-hide. When this was taken off or wore off, it was
not recognizable as a hand.

Miss Hanbury, who did her best to institute reforms in Moorish prisons,
and succeeded in Tangier, left at her death a sum of money, out of which
L5 came to Tetuan to be spent on their behalf. It fell into the hands of
the lady missionaries, and they spent it in making jellabs for the
prisoners to wear, whose garments are worse than filthy. Unfortunately L5
was not nearly enough to clothe all; it only provided a jellab for one
out of every three of the prisoners, and the poor wretches fought like
dogs for them.