the south the mountain-fastnesses hold them still,
together with leopards, wild cats, etc.; but, like everywhere else, big
game moves off as civilization moves on.

There remains the wild boar. The Moors hunt him with greyhounds,
Europeans shoot him, and Englishmen have introduced pig-sticking. The
largest pig Sir John Hay speared scaled twenty stone clean, and measured
six foot four from snout to tail. But even pig are getting scarce. The
Tent Club in Tangier organizes expeditions, and parties go out under
canvas for a few days at a time: the result is nothing very great.

When it is a question of shooting pig, the Moors, born sportsmen, join
one and all--small farmers and peasants--purely from the love of sport.
Some act as beaters, wearing leathern aprons and greaves--such as the
Greek peasantry wore--to protect their legs. They carry bill-hooks to cut
their way through the thickets, and bring along a tribe of native dogs,
which do good service--a cross between a collie and a jackal, veteran
poachers, which prowl through the scrub, winding a boar at any distance.
The thickets where pig lie are for the most part backed by the sea, and
bordered by lake and marsh or plain, in which case it is not difficult to
inveigle the driven boar to break where the guns are posted. A haunch of
wild pig judiciously roasted, with a _soupcon_ of wine in the gravy, is
one of the delicacies of Morocco. As many as fifteen boars have been
accounted for in a couple of days' shooting.

The sun went down; the soft air grew colder: we walked quickly back
through the outskirts of Tangier, between gardens full of plumbago,
dituria, geraniums, hibiscus, pointsettias, narcissus, frescia, and roses
of all sorts, besides other flowers. Anything would grow in a soil which
has been known to bear three crops of potatoes in one year, and where
corn is sometimes sown and reaped all within the space of forty days.

An enterprising English market-gardener is this year growing vegetables
and fruit for the London market, expecting to have green peas in Covent
Garden in December, the duty on peas and tomatoes having been lowered to
5 per cent. This man acts as agent to a land-owner. Fortunes, indeed,
might be made, if it were not a question of FIND THE LAND; for while land
cannot now be bought in Morocco by Europeans, the few fortunates who own
inherited acres price them high, and, hoping for a boom in the course of
the next fifteen years, demand L400 an ac