the best of times luxurious. "Say explore, rather
than travel," somebody writes, speaking of Morocco; and many were the
injunctions and warnings which the post brought us from friends at
home--above all, to expect no ransoms, in the event of capture by lawless
tribes.

It is true that a _Wanderjahr_ in Morocco has not the luxuries of travel
in India; and Englishmen who would break new ground must wear Moorish
dress, talk Arabic, and prepare to face considerable risks, with the
off-chance of writing in some such strain as Davidson: "To-day I have
parted with all my hair except one long tuft over my right ear. I never
expect to become white again. My beard is very long. My legs covered with
bites of vermin. My cheek-bones prominent, and my teeth sharp from having
very little to do."

Not that R. and myself had such adventures in view; but we believed that
even as humble followers in the tracks of others we should find no lack
of interest in a country so little known, among a people of "The Arabian
Nights," under conditions which tempt the Unexpected to stalk out from
behind every corner.

CHAPTER II

CAMP OUTFIT--A NIGHT AT A CARAVANSERAI--TETUAN--THE BRITISH
VICE-CONSUL--MOORISH SHOPS--WE VISIT A MOORISH HOUSE AND FAMILY.

CHAPTER II

_Tetuan_--the tiger-cat! so curiously beautiful. Recollections of
it hang in the gallery of one's memory, not so much as pictures,
but as Correggio-like masses of vivid colouring and intangible
spirals of perfume.

THE place we had set our hearts upon visiting, to begin with, was the
northern capital, Fez--only to find, on going into particulars, that
insurmountable barriers blocked the way. Even if we escaped the December
rains on the ride there, they would break sooner or later, making
sleeping out under canvas impossible: the flooded rivers might mean a
long delay--probably a week or more--on the banks; bridges in Morocco are
harder to find than diamonds on the seashore, and when a river is in
flood there remains only to sit down in front of it until the waters
abate.

The "road" to Fez, after the tropical rains, soon becomes a slough of
clay and water, ploughed up by mules and donkeys, and so slippery that
nothing can keep its legs. We decided, therefore, to leave Fez till the
spring, when the rains would be over, and to visit for the present a city
called Tetuan, only two days' journey from Tangier, camping out as long
as we felt inclined, a