as ignorant of English,
otherwise he might have had some objection to being thus transferred to
paper, and brought, as Arabs think, under "the power of the evil eye."
Before the exact nature of what had been done, however, was quite
understood, Peter had paid for the coffee, and, with the amateur artist,
had left the place.

"Nothing surprises me more," said Foster, as they walked along, "than to
see such beautiful wells and fountains in streets so narrow that one
actually has not enough room to step back and look at them properly.
Look at that one now, with the negress, the Moor, and the water-carrier
waiting their turn while the little girl fills her water-pot. See what
labour has been thrown away on that fountain. What elegance of design,
what columns of sculptured marble, and fine tessellated work stuck up
where few people can see it, even when they try to."

"True, Geo'ge. De water would run as well out ob a ugly fountain as a
pritty one."

"But it's not that I wonder at, Peter; it's the putting of such splendid
work in such dark narrow lanes that surprises me. Why do they go to so
much expense in such a place as this?"

"Oh! as to expense, Geo'ge. Dey don't go to none. You see, we hab no
end ob slabes here, ob all kinds, an' trades an' purfessions, what cost
nuffin but a leetle black bread to keep 'em alibe, an' a whackin' now
an' den to make 'em work. Bress you! dem marble fountains an' t'ings
cost the pirits nuffin. Now we's goin' up to see the Kasba."

"What is that, Peter?"

"What! you not know what de Kasba am? My, how ignorant you is! De
Kasba is de citad'l--de fort--where all de money an' t'ings--treasure
you call it--am kep' safe. Strong place, de Kasba--awrful strong."

"I'll be glad to see that," said Foster.

"Ho yes. You be glad to see it _wid me_," returned the negro
significantly, "but not so glad if you go dere wid chains on you legs
an' pick or shovel on you shoulder. See--dere dey go!"

As he spoke a band of slaves was seen advancing up the narrow street.
Standing aside in a doorway to let them pass, Foster saw that the band
was composed of men of many nations. Among them he observed the fair
hair and blue eyes of the Saxon, the dark complexion and hair of the
Spaniard and Italian, and the black skin of the negro--but all resembled
each other in their looks and lines of care, and in the weary anxiety
and suffering with which every countenance was stamped,--also in the
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