dy to hand,
and the hungry passer-by is invited to take an _al fresco_ meal for
the veriest trifle. Another sort of kabab--for such is the name of
the preparation--is being made from a large wash-basin full of ready
seasoned minced meat, small handfuls of which the jovial _chef_
adroitly plasters on more skewers, cooking them like the others.

Squatted on the ground by the side of this "bar" is a retailer of
ripened native butter, "warranted five years old." This one can
readily smell without stooping; it is in an earthenware pan, and looks
very dirty, but is weighed out by the ounce as very precious after
being kept so long underground.

Opposite is the spot where the camels from and for the interior load
and unload. Some forty of these ungainly but useful animals are here
congregated in groups. At feeding-time a cloth is spread on the
ground, on which a quantity of barley is poured in a heap. Each animal
lies with its legs doubled up beneath it in a manner only possible to
camels, with its head over the food, munching contentedly. In one of
the groups we notice the driver beating his beast to make it kneel
down preparatory to the removal of its pack, some two hundred-weight
and a half. After sundry unpleasant sounds, and tramping backwards and
forwards to find a comfortable spot, the gawky creature settles down
in a stately fashion, packing up his stilt-like legs in regular
order, limb after limb, till he attains the desired position. A short
distance off one of them is making hideous noises by way of protest
against the weight of the load being piled upon him, threatening to
lose his temper, and throw a little red bladder out of his mouth,
which, hanging there as he breathes excitedly, makes a most unpleasing
sound.

Here one of the many water-carriers who have crossed our path does so
again, tinkling his little bell of European manufacture, and we turn
to watch him as he gives a poor lad to drink. Slung across his back is
the "bottle" of the East--a goat-skin with the legs sewn up. A long
metal spout is tied into the neck, and on this he holds his left
thumb, which he uses as a tap by removing it to aim a long stream of
water into the tin mug in his right hand. Two bright brass cups cast
and engraved in Fez hang from a chain round his neck, but these are
reserved for purchasers, the urchin who is now enjoying a drink
receiving it as charity. Tinkle, tinkle, goes the bell again, as
the weary man moves on with his