ver, and in
tempting piles they lie upon the stalls made of old packing-cases,
many with still legible familiar English and French inscriptions.
Apricots are selling at a halfpenny or less the pound, and plums and
damsons, not to speak of greengages, keep good pace with them in price
and sales. The bright tints of the lettuces and other fresh green
vegetables serve to set off the rich colours of the God-made
delicacies, but the prevailing hue of the scene is a restful
earth-brown, an autumnal leaf-tint; the trodden ground, the sun-dried
brush-wood of the booths and awnings, and the wet-stained wood-work.
No glamour of paint or gleam of glass destroys the harmony of the
surroundings.

But with all the feeling of cool and repose, rest there is not, or
idleness, for there is not a brisker scene in an oriental town than
its market-place. Thronging those narrow pathways come the rich and
poor--the portly merchant in his morning cloak, a spotless white wool
jellab, with a turban and girth which bespeak easy circumstances; the
labourer in just such a cloak with the hood up, but one which was
always brown, and is now much mended; the slave in shirt and drawers,
with a string round his shaven pate; the keen little Jew boy pushing
and bargaining as no other could; the bearded son of Israel, with
piercing eyes, and his daughter with streaming hair; lastly, the widow
or time-worn wife of the poor Mohammedan, who must needs market for
herself. Her wrinkled face and care-worn look tell a different tale
from the pompous self-content of the merchant by her side, who drives
as hard a bargain as she does. In his hand he carries a palmetto-leaf
basket, already half full, as with slippered feet he carefully picks
his way among puddles and garbage.

"Good morning, O my master; God bless thee!" exclaims the stall-keeper
as his customer comes in sight.

Said el Faraji has to buy cloth of the merchant time and time again,
so makes a point of pleasing one who can return a kindness.

"No ill, praise God; and thyself, O Said?" comes the cheery reply;
then, after five minutes' mutual inquiry after one another's
household, horses and other interests, health and general welfare,
friend Said points out the daintiest articles on his stall, and in the
most persuasive of tones names his "lowest price."

All the while he is sitting cross-legged on an old box, with his
scales before him.

"What? Now, come, I'll give you _so_ much," says the mercha