[2] "The Far West", the native name for Morocco.

[3] One of the most charming of these houses is "Aidonia," belonging to
Mr. Ion Perdicaris. He was seized there by the brigand Rais Uli in May
last.

[4] Shelters provided by the Government for travellers.

[5] A.J. Dawson, whose novels dealing with Morocco are full of rare charm
and distinction.

FROM TANGIER TO DJEDIDA

[Illustration: OLD BUILDINGS, TANGIER]

CHAPTER II

FROM TANGIER TO DJEDIDA

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote

* * * * *

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.

_The Canterbury Tales._

We have rounded the north-west corner of Africa, exchanged farewell
signals with our friend on Lloyd's station,--who must now return to his
Spanish and Arabic or live a silent life,--and I have taken a last look
through field-glasses at the plateau that held our little camp. Since then
we have raced the light for a glimpse of El Araish, where the Gardens of
the Hesperides were set by people of old time. The sun was too swift in
its decline; one caught little more than an outline of the white city,
with the minarets of its mosques that seemed to pierce the sky, and flags
flying in the breeze on the flat roofs of its Consuls' houses. The river
Lekkus showed up whitely on the eastern side, a rising wind having whipped
its waters into foam, and driven the light coasting vessels out to sea. So
much I saw from the good ship _Zweena's_ upper deck, and then evening
fell, as though to hide from me the secret of the gardens where the
Golden Apples grew.

Alas, that modern knowledge should have destroyed all faith in old legend!
The fabled fruits of the Hesperides turn to oranges in the hands of our
wise men, the death-dealing dragon becomes Wad Lekkus itself, so ready
even to-day to snarl and roar at the bidding of the wind that comes up out
of the south-west, and the dusky maidens of surpassing loveliness are no
more than simple Berber girls, who, whilst doubtless dusky, and possibly
maidenly as ever, have not inherited much of the storied beauty of their
forbears. In spite of this modern perversion of the old tale I find that
the oranges of the dining-table have a quite rare charm for me
to-night,--such an attraction as they have had hitherto only when I have
picked them in the gardens of Andalusia, or in the groves that perfume the
anc