A Young Gentleman Has Just Arrived From Gibraltar, Who Had
Been Previously Six Weeks On His Passage From Holland To That Place,
With His Legs Infixed In A Pair Of Three-League Boots.
He says he has
come from Holland on purpose to sport and hunt in Morocco.
Several of
the consuls, when they go out sporting, metamorphose themselves into
veteran Numidian sportsmen. You would imagine they were going to hunt
lions for months in the ravines of the Atlas, whereas it is only to
shoot a stray partridge or a limping hare, or perchance they may meet
with a boar. And this they do for a couple of days, or twenty-four
hours, sleeping during the night very snugly under tents, and fed and
feasted with milk, fowls, and sheep by the Arabs.
Morocco, like all despotic countries, furnishes some severe examples of
the degrading of high functionaries. There is an old man,
Sidi-El-Arby-Es-Said, living there, who is a marked victim of imperial
tyranny. Some years ago, the conqueror despoiled him of all his wealth,
and threw him into prison, after he had been twenty years bashaw of this
district. He was in prison one year with his two sons. The object of the
Emperor was to extort the last filse of his money; and he entirely
succeeded. The oppressor, however, relented a little on the death of one
of his victim's sons; released him from confinement, and gave the
ex-bashaw two houses, one for himself and the other for his surviving
son.
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