who married the Moslem, Prince Izid Aly, and whose son reigned after his
father's death.

The Shereef has been mentioned. He is the great man of the district,
with an authority only second to that of the Sultan himself. Claiming
to be a lineal descendant of Mahomet, he is entitled to wear the green
turban. His name at full length is long, but not so long as that of most
Spanish Infantes--Abd-es-Selam ben Hach el Arbi. He is a saint and a
miracle-worker. He has been seen simultaneously at Morocco, Wazan, and
Tangier, according to the belief of his co-religionists, wherein he
beats the record of Sir Boyle Roche's bird, which was only in two places
at once. Like Jacob, he has wrestled with angels. He is head of the
Muley-Taib society, a powerful secret organization, which has its
ramifications throughout the Islamitic world. He draws fees from the
mosques, and has gifts bestowed upon him in profusion by his admirers,
who feel honoured when he accepts them. Exalted and wide-spreading is
his repute where the Moslem holds sway, and unassailable is his
orthodoxy, yet he has had the temerity to take to himself a Christian
wife. This lady had been a governess in an American family at Tangier.
There the Shereef made her acquaintance, wooed and won her. They were
married at the residence of the British Minister Plenipotentiary; the
officers of a British man-of-war were present at the ceremony, and
slippers and a shower of rice, as at home, followed the bride on leaving
the building. The Shereef and, if possible, the Shereefa were personages
to be seen, and Mahomet Lamarty was the very man to help us to the
favour. His Highness lived four miles away, and we formed a cavalcade
one afternoon and set off for his garden, the ladies accompanying us. We
passed through cultivated fields of barley and _dra_ (a kind of millet),
crossed the river Wadliahoodi, and ascended a road which faced abruptly
towards the hills. An agreeable road it was, and not lonesome; we had
the carol of birds and the piping of bull-frogs to lighten the way, and
leafy branches made reverence overhead. There were abundance of fruit
and such beautiful shrubs that I rail at myself for not being botanist
enough to be able to enlarge upon them. There were orange-groves, yellow
broom, dog-rose, and apples, pears, peaches, apricots, plums,
pomegranates, figs, and vines. It was such an oasis as a very young
Etonian in the warmth of a midsummer vacation might have likened to