of
rude construction, merely pieces of flat steel filed to double-edged
points, and protected by two flaps slightly bigger, in the one case of
bone, in the other of brass. A loose rivet holding all together at one
end completes the instrument. The brass one he says was made by a Jew
in Fez out of an old clock; the other by a Jew in Marrakesh. For the
purpose of making scratches for cupping he has a piece of flat steel
about half an inch wide, sharpened across the end chisel-fashion. Then
he has a piece of an old razor-blade tied to a stick with a string.
That this is sharp he soon demonstrates by skilfully shaving an old
man's head, after only damping the eighth of an inch stub with which
it is covered. A stone and a bit of leather, supplemented by the
calves of his legs, or his biceps, serve to keep the edges in
condition.

From a finger-shaped leather bag in his satchel he produces an
antiquated pair of tooth extractors, a small pair of forceps for
pulling out thorns, and a stiletto. The first-named article, he
informs us, came from France to Tafilalt, his home, _via_ Tlemcen; it
is of the design known as "Fox's claw," and he explains to us that the
difference between the French and the English article is that the one
has no spring to keep the jaws open, while the other has. A far more
formidable instrument is the genuine native contrivance, a sort of
exaggerated corkscrew without a point.

But here comes a patient to be treated. He troubles the doctor with
no diagnosis, asking only to be bled. He is a youth of medium height,
bronzed by the sun. Telling him to sit down and bare his right arm,
the operator feels it well up and down, and then places the tips of
the patient's fingers on the ground, bidding him not to move. Pouring
out a little water into a metal dish, he washes the arm on the inside
of the elbow, drying it with his cloak. Next he ties a piece of list
round the upper arm as tightly as he can, and selecting one of the
lancets, makes an incision into the vein which the washing has
rendered visible. A bright stream issues, squirting into the air some
fifteen inches; it is soon, however, directed into a tin soup-plate
holding fourteen ounces, as we ascertained by measurement. The
operator washes and dries his lancet, wraps the two in a white rag,
and puts them into a piece of cane which forms an excellent case.
Meanwhile the plate has filled, and he turns his attention once more
to the patient. One or two