staggered at the sight of such a disreputable-looking beggar.

Mary smiled wistfully and shook her head.

The Korean, glad enough of a halt, watched curiously a man and woman looking in that manner into one another's eyes. "The moon sees himself in the smiling waters," he muttered, with the Oriental's havoc in the way of genders.

Leggett and Mr. Blackburn had found one another hurrying down to the Han on the same errand, and both were unmindful of Nelly speeding after them on her wheel. "There they are. Hooray! I see them, father. There's a foreign woman. It's Mary Adams, father."

Nelly unswung her faithful camera and ran at their heels.

"It's all right," Hayton called to them. "Hik's loaded up to the guards with milk." "Then you're not bleeding to death, with those lungs, Hayton. By Jove, you look it!" said Leggett. "Good morning, Miss Adams. You forestalled us. The discoverer's rights are yours."

Mary felt the pink signals showing from her cheeks, and turned to Mr. Blackburn. "If you can get out some of the milk now, Mr. Blackburn, I'll hurry back with it." But Nelly had not been idle.

"Now I know you'll want a souvenir, Mr. Hayton. I've got it for you, and Mary Adams is in the picture. Nelly patted her camera affectionately.

Speech was impossible, but Hayton then vowed a vow: Mary Adams should always be in the picture.

THE

W

HILE the Arab and Moorish population of Morocco have received no little attention from the pen and pencil of travellers, the Berbers have been left almost entirely undescribed. Nor is the reason of this difficult to discover, for ever since the Arabinvasion of the country in the seventh century they have been perpetually driven further and further afield from the more fertile and more easily attainable portions of the land, until to-day they are only to be found in the most inaccessible districts, where, at war with stranger, and generally, too, amongst themselves, they jealously guard their domain against intrusion. It is only the traveller who possesses a fluent knowledge of the Arabic language, and who is ready to adopt the native dress and conform to na

VOL. XXXVI.-39

tive manners and customs, that can hope to penetrate amongst these wild tribes; and even he will meet with many difficulties and not a few dangers, if not with a stern refusal to allow him to proceed. That such is the case can scarcely be wondered at, for ever since the now predominating Arab race began to pour into the country, the Berbers have suffered at their hands, a fact that renders them suspicious of all men. The fertile valleys, the rich plains that they once inhabitated have been overrun by the new people, until, in order to avoid total extermination, they have been obliged to seek a refuge in the mountain chains and forest lands, where pursuit is impossible, and where the nature of the soil is such as not to tempt the Arabs to oust them. That, in the face of such treatment, the Berbers have been able to maintain throughout their independence and their characteristics is evidence that they are possessed of no little vitality. It

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is true that where the two races have come in contact-the Semitic Arabs and the Hamitic Berbers-the latter have largely merged into the former, and there exist many tribes to-day which, though actually of Berber descent, have abandoned their racial character, their language, and their customs for those of the Arabs. Yet in spite of this, no love exists between the two, and in such parts of the Moorish Empire as the two races find themselves neighbors, a constant state of guerilla warfare exists, usually taking the form of organized raids, and not unseldom of pitched battles. This state of affairs the native government is absolutely incapable of repressing, for no sooner does a punitive expedition approach than the tribes collect their women, cattle, flocks, and herds, and seek refuge in the peaks of the Atlas, or in the recesses of their forests, where pursuit by an ill-organized and totally inefficient soldiery, such as is possessed by the Sultan of Morocco, is out of the question. More than once during the reign of the late Sultan-Mulai El Hassen the army received severe checks from the Berber tribes, and on one occasion the Imperial camp was looted and the Sultan himself narrowly escaped with his life.

But it is not the purpose of the writer of these lines to enter into any serious account of the Berber race, for such would require far greater space than is at his disposal here, but rather to put before the reader some idea of the life and characteristics of these seldom-visited tribes.

While that portion of the race which inhabits the main chain of the Atlas Mountains are one and all dwellers in fixed abodes, those who still hold the forests of cedar trees to the south of Fez continue to make use of the low brown tents, which, pitched in circles, form their villages. These tribes are entirely nomad, changing their grazing-ground as soon as the supply of grass at one spot is exhausted, when they seek pastures new. In summer they retire to the higher slopes of their mountains, where melting snow and cool breezes do not allow of the soil becoming parched and dry, to return once more to the plains as soon as the autumn rains have fallen and given birth to pasture, and the soil is soft enough to plough.

It is in their mountain and forest haunts that the traveller must seek them if he would see them at their best, for the heavy rains of winter and the drudgery of the plough seem to damp the ardor and crush the spirit of the life-loving tribes. No doubt all agricultural work is distasteful to these wild shepherds, whose traditions are all pastoral. But the necessities of life have driven them to the plough and the tilling of the soil, though it is with only a half-hearted spirit that they enter upon these labors.

Let us suppose that the winter rains are over, and that the plains are green with the young rising corn. Ploughing and work are finished for the year, and within the circle of brown tents-some two dozen in number-all is life and activity. Men and women are gathering together the few household goods they possess, or pulling up the pegs that hold their tent-dwelling in place. Pots and pans of tinned copper or rough red earthenware are piled about, and strips of matting are being rolled up. The children are chasing the fowls to and fro in their endeavors to capture them; the flocks and herds browse near by, tended by sunburnt shepherd boys, and everything speaks of an early move. Then the tents themselves are struck and rolled up, and the loading of the beasts of burden commences. Every animal capable of bearing a load is pressed into service.

Cows and bullocks, mares, mules, and donkeys-even men and women-share joyfully in the labor, for spring is come and the shade of the giant cedar trees awaits the shepherds and hunters-and cattle thieves. Life for the Berbers commences then, and for a few months, in the impenetrable hills and forests, they can pass their existence unhampered by Arab neighbors and far beyond the reach of grasping officialdom. Then a move is made, and one and all, singing as they go, the procession starts off. Men on horseback—their wiry little steeds as mud-stained and ragged as the saddles they bear-lead the way. Fine little creatures they are, with all the grace of movement found only in the savage. Their long, toga-like "haiks" and straight heavy white cloaks add not a little to their picturesque appearances. Nor are their features devoid of beauty, for, though the

and gaiters of knitted wool or leather on their legs. What little beauty nature has bestowed upon them they manage most successfully to conceal under the strange dicta of Berber fashions. Their complexions are stained and striped with red "henna" dye; their noses and chins are tattooed in patterns of dark blue, and even the antimony with which they encircle their eyes is so carelessly and coarsely put on as to give the appearance of a recent scrimmage. Untidy, unkempt, and none too clean, the Berber women offer few of the attractions apparent in the men, who, though often sadly in want of a washing, are handsome, frank, and full of spirit,

giant cedar trees is reached and the campvillage pitched near some cool stream or crystal spring. There is no more labor now, no more ploughing. Idleness and hunting take the place of winter drudgery. Clothes and tents are washed, and man and beast revel in the fresh young grass and the wild flowers, with which the whole country is carpeted.

At dawn the horses are saddled-if they have not been out all night in some raiding expedition on a neighboring village-and the men and youths go forth to hunt the gazelle, the whole forest ringing with their cries and the barking of their dogs. Then back to the tents to pass the heat of the