CHAPTER XXVI

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OUT OF HARNESS.

Though Sir John had severed his official connection with Morocco, he retained his villa at Ravensrock. Thither, after an interval, he returned to spend the winters. During the first year of absence after his retirement, on learning of the serious illness of the companion of so many of his sporting days, Hadj Hamed, the chief of the boar-hunters, he writes to his daughter, enclosing a letter to be delivered by his little grandson to the dying man:—

Wiesbaden, _March 31_, 1887.

Your letter of the 23rd has just reached A. I cannot tell you how grieved I feel from the account you give of dear old Hadj Hamed, and I fear much I may never see his kind face again. As I thought it would please and cheer him if I wrote a few lines to him as an old friend, I have written in my bad Arabic the enclosed note, which dear Jock will perhaps deliver in person to him. It is merely to say I am so sorry to hear from you he is ill, that I pray God he will keep his health, and that we shall meet in October next and hunt together, and that I look upon him as a brother and a dear friend.

In 1887 he returned to winter at Tangier, and though a septuagenarian, was as keen a sportsman as ever. Writing in October he says:—

I have already bought a nag for myself, and, like myself, short and dumpy, but with legs that will not fail or stumble with twelve stone seven on his back, for if I fall I do not stot up as of old, but make a hole in the ground and stick there.

The winter of that year found him riding hard after pig on his little cob, and untiring in pursuit of game. He writes to his son-in-law an account of one of these hunts in which he had a narrow escape from injury:—

The hunt has been a successful one, and barring three wounded horses, one dog killed, a couple of spills, and ——— rather shaken, all’s well. Six or seven lances smashed—not by me, except one dumpy lance, of which anon.

A. went off early on Monday the 12th to put the camp in order. I followed her with mother. We lunched in the Ghaba Sebaita. At 3 p.m. I left her, so as to be early in camp to see that all was right. On reaching the head of the lake, I met a hunter who told me he had seen a very large boar come out of the cork-wood and lie down on the border of the lake. I sent a messenger for the hunters, who were returning, and awaited them on my ‘kida,’ _sine_ lance. When they arrived they also were lanceless; but the Sheríf having come up with his lance, and Mahmud with him with another, I induced the Sheríf to make Mahmud dismount and give his lance to J. G. I took from a beater a short lance (five feet), and thus armed we entered the lake. W., with a lance, was seen in the distance and beckoned for; Colonel C., with his party, also arrived armed with a lance. J. G. started the boar, and away we went in six inches of water. As soon as J. G. approached, the boar turned and charged, smashing his lance. Spying his horse coming up in the distance, as it was being led to the camp, he galloped off and got the fresh horse and his own lance.

Colonel C. followed the boar with me, and as soon as he neared the beast, it turned and charged; but received a severe wound, the lance remaining in the boar. Then, as no sound lance remained, I presented myself. No sooner did the boar hear me in his wake than round he came, at a hundred miles an hour, upon my short lance, the point of which, being badly tempered and very blunt, bent to an angle of ninety degrees. My gallant little horse leapt over the pig, as he passed under his barrel. Up came J. G. with his fresh lance and gave it hard, but still the boar went on, in deeper and deeper water, making for Arára[67]. Some greyhounds of the Sheríf’s were slipped, and the gallant boar fought them all. The hunters came up, and the boar still moved towards Arára. I asked a Moor with a hatchet to knock the brave beast on the head, but he declined the task; and, as there was no second lance, the boar moved on towards Arára very slowly, fighting the dogs. Finding that neither prayers nor abuse were attended to by the hunters, I jumped off my nag into the water, knee deep, and taking the hatchet advanced on the pig. He charged when I got within five yards of him, and I broke the hatchet on his skull and retreated; the greyhounds laid hold behind, and the brave beast was done for. I got rated by J. G., who saw it, and by A. afterwards; but mother is to be kept in the dark about this ‘tomfoolery,’ as A. says. The fact is, there was no danger, for the greyhounds came to the rescue when the boar charged.

On another occasion, after a successful day’s pigsticking thirteen miles from Tangier, he and his younger daughter, riding home in the evening, saw two Bonelli eagles and six great bustards. The latter allowed them to approach within forty yards. ‘This,’ he writes, ‘was too much for my old sporting blood, so I invited J. G. to join me, and next day we went out to the site and viewed three ‘hobar’ (great bustards), and were after them twice, but could not get near for a shot. I shot a Bonelli eagle from my pony, who, even after a thirty miles’ ride yesterday, was very larky, but stood fire like an old war-horse.’

Not only did Sir John retain to the end of his life all his love of sport, but, like most sportsmen, he dwelt with pleasure on his recollections of past encounters. Many of his reminiscences he put together, now that he was comparatively an idle man, in the form of articles which were printed in _Murray’s Magazine_ for 1887, under the title of ‘Scraps from my Note-Book.’ Some of these, supplemented with additions subsequently made by himself or with details since gathered from his letters, are reproduced here, though they for the most part belong to a much earlier date. Thus, on the subject of boar-hunting, he wrote:—

The Moorish hunters are generally small farmers or peasants from the villages around Tangier, who join the hunt solely from love of sport. Some of them act as beaters, wearing leathern aprons and greaves—such as the ancient Greek peasantry wore—to protect their legs. Of these, some carry bill-hooks to cut their way through the thicket, others long guns. They are accompanied by native dogs (suggestive of a cross between a collie and a jackal), with noses that can wind a boar from afar, and do good service.

As the thickets where the animals lie are for the most part bordered by the sea on one side, and by lake or plain on the other, the boar, when driven, generally make straight for the guns; and we were wont to have capital sport, shooting on an average about fifteen boar in two days’ hunting. There are also jackals and porcupine; and, during a beat near Brij, a panther once took me by surprise, jumping across the path where I was posted before I could fire. This animal was shot afterwards on a neighbouring hill.

On one occasion on the promontory of Brij, which is surrounded by the sea and the river ‘Taherdats’ except for a narrow slip of sand on the northern side, sometimes flooded at high tides, we found thirty-six boar in one beat, and killed fourteen. It was an exciting sight to see the boar breaking from the bush across the neck of sand about 150 yards broad. The herd did not break together, but came separately and continuously. A large tusker who led the van was wounded as he sallied from the bush pursued by dogs, and forthwith charged the man who had fired; and then beaters, who ran up to the rescue, were followed again by other boar, who, wounded in their turn, pursued the beaters that were hurrying after the first boar; then came dogs, pigs, beaters, more dogs and pigs. Volleys were fired, up, down, and across the line, regardless of the rules of the hunt. Great was the excitement; several beaters were knocked down by the boar, but no one was ripped, though dogs and boar lay wounded on the sands all around. I shot five boar: one great tusker, being wounded, sat on his haunches in the defiant posture of the Florentine boar, so I ran up, assassin-like, from behind and plunged my knife into his heart.

In one of the beats, a hunter named ‘Shebá,’ a veteran past seventy, had just shot a boar, when the dogs came in full cry after another, and he had only time to pour in the powder carried loose in his leathern pouch, and to put the long iron ramrod down the barrel, when another tusker came to the front. Shebá fired and sent the ramrod like a skewer through the body of the boar, who charged and knocked him over. Shebá fell flat on his face, neither moving arm nor leg, whilst the boar stood over him, cutting into ribbons his hooded woollen ‘jelab.’ He shouted for help, exclaiming ‘Fire! fire!’ I ran up within a few feet. ‘I fear to hit you,’ I said. ‘Fire!’ he cried; ‘I would rather be shot than be killed by a “halluf” (pig).’

[Illustration: From a Photograph by Baron Whetnall.

_The last Hunt in 1886; Sir John on “E’dhem.”_

Walker & Boutall Ph. Sc.]

I stooped low, and raising the muzzle of my gun, shot the boar through the heart. The huge carcass fell upon Shebá, who, when released from the weight, got up and shook me by the hand heartily, saying, ‘Praise be to God the Merciful! Thanks to you I have escaped death.’ I withdrew the ramrod, which had passed right through the body of the animal.

I had not at that time introduced the lance or spear, but when a boar happened to take to the open I had frequently pursued on horseback and killed with an ancient rapier I possessed.

Mounted on a little Barb, about fourteen hands three, I once pursued, gun in hand, a large sow across the plain of Awára. We came suddenly on a ditch formed by an estuary from the sea, about sixteen feet broad. No bank was visible until I saw the boar suddenly disappear, and before I could pull up, my nag tried to clear the ditch, but failed, as the ground was soft on the brink, so in we plumped headlong into thick mud and water, gun and all; but a pistol, loose in my holster, by good fortune was cast high and dry on the opposite bank.

The horse, sow, and I wallowed for some seconds in the mud together, each of us scrambling out about the same moment, for I had chosen an easier ascent of the bank to clamber up than the sow had done. I left my gun swamped in the mud, and, seizing hold of the pistol, remounted. Away we went again. It was about a quarter of a mile to the bush, where the sow would be safe. I came up alongside and fired, but only wounded her; she turned and made a jump to seize hold of my leg, but missed, passing her fore leg up to the joint in my right stirrup, and there her leg and my foot were jammed. The hind legs of the sow just touched the ground. She tried to bite my knee; I struggled to release my foot and the sow her leg. I had no other weapon than the exploded pistol, and my fear was that the stirrup-leather would give way, and then, if I fell, the sow would have it all her own way. The pain from my jammed instep was intense, but after a few seconds the sow freed her leg and then turned on my horse, who cleverly leapt aside as she charged.

The sow then entered the thicket, badly wounded, and when the dogs came up we found and killed her. The hunters, who had viewed the chase from the side of the hill, and had been hallooing joyously on witnessing the pig, horse, and me tumble into the ditch, were greatly amused in aiding me to remove the thick coating of grey mud which shrouded my person, my gun, and the body of my horse.

On another occasion, when a very large boar, slightly wounded, was making up the side of a rocky hill, bare of bush, a strange Moor, with a long gun, who had joined the hunt, ran along the open to a narrow path where the boar would have to pass, and squatted down to pot him. I was about forty yards off, and shouted as the boar made towards him, ‘Look out! Stand aside of the path!’—but the stranger remained steady, fired, and then jumped up and ran.

The infuriated beast pursued and knocked him headlong over, ripping his legs and body as he struggled to get up. I ran up with another hunter, but boar and man were so mixed up I could not fire. The boar, burying its snout under the man’s clothes, ripped his body severely, then seizing his woollen dress in its mouth like a bull-dog, knelt on his prostrate body. I dared not fire; so laying hold of the hilt of a sword my companion carried, and finding the point too blunt to pierce the ironclad hide, I told the owner to take hold of the point, and putting the blade under the boar’s throat, we sawed away until the beast fell dead, still holding the man’s dress in his jaws. The wounded Moor, who was built like a Samson, fainted away from loss of blood. We stanched his wounds, making a tourniquet with handkerchief and stick, laid him on the pad of a mule, and sent him into town to a room in my stable, where he was attended to by a surgeon for three weeks and recovered. On taking leave of me, he observed it was his first and would be his last boar-hunt. This man, as I learnt afterwards, was a famous cattle-lifter. He told the hunters, that out of gratitude for my care of him, he would never rob my cows or the cattle of my friends.

We were wont to hunt for a couple of days every fortnight at Sharf el Akab and Awára, but finding that the mountaineers from the hills of Beni M’Suar and Jebel Habíb, who dwell about twelve miles from this hunting-ground, had been in the habit of coming down in large parties once a week to hunt and were destroying the game, we determined, from a spirit of rivalry, to hunt more frequently.

There had been conflicts between my hunters and the mountaineers, and during a beat for boar, when a number of these wild fellows had joined our hunt, I heard bullets whizzing and cutting the branches near to where I stood. One of these mountaineers was caught by my party, and a vigorous bastinado was inflicted on the culprit, who had been seen to take a deliberate shot at me.

In less than six months the boar at Sharf el Akab and Awára were destroyed, except a huge ‘solitaire,’ who had made his lair on the rocky hill of Bu Amar, then overgrown with impenetrable bush. He was a very wary animal, who refused to bolt when bayed at by dogs, frequently killing or wounding those that ventured to approach his lair.

At that time a Spaniard had brought, much to the annoyance of the peasants, a herd of tame pigs to feed in the cork-wood, for, as the peasants reported, the ‘accursed animals’ not only fed on acorns and white truffles, which abound there, but ravaged also their grain crops, whither the Spaniard had been seen to drive the herd at night to feed.

Complaints were made by the farmers to the Moorish authorities regarding the havoc committed by the pigs, and I backed their petition to the Basha. So the herdsman was ordered by the Spanish Legation to remove the herd, which was accordingly done; but two of the Spaniard’s sows were missing, and he offered a handsome reward to any Moor who would bring them, dead or alive, declaring that they had been led astray by a large wild boar, who had been seen by him to come boldly amongst the herd some weeks before, had attacked and ripped severely a tame boar, paying no attention to the herdsman’s shouting, and had led off, as he declared, ‘Dos cerdas muy hermosas’ (two very beautiful sows), not unwilling, as he insinuated, to accompany their captor.

The Spaniard declared he had occasionally seen at dusk his two sows with the boar, feeding in the plains; but as soon as the latter winded man, he made off at a gallop with his captives.

A hunter reported this to me, mentioning that he had been offered five dollars for each sow, dead or alive, and that he believed both sows had large litters of wee striped pigs, evidently the progeny of their captor.

I communicated with the Spaniard, and these two sows and their litters were sold to me for about £6. I made known to the Basha of Tangier how the sport at Sharf el Akab had been spoilt by the too frequent hunting, both of my party and of the mountaineers; and related how I had purchased the Spaniard’s two sows and their litters. I requested that orders should be sent to the mountaineers who were under the Basha’s jurisdiction to keep to their own hunting-grounds, and not hunt at Sharf el Akab; and that the peasantry also of the villages round Tangier should be warned not to shoot boar in that district unless they joined our hunt, which had always been open to sportsmen, ‘Moslem or Nazarene,’ of low or high degree.

To all this the Basha agreed, whilst I offered to give compensation to farmers whose crops might be injured by the ravages of my porcine acquisition. I also made known to the Foreign Representatives the steps I had taken, and requested them to give directions to the subjects of their respective Governments not to shoot or hunt the hybrids or any other boar in that district, as it was my intention not to shoot boar in the preserved district, but to hunt with the spear, after a couple of years, when I expected not only the hybrids would have increased in numbers, but that they would be joined by wild boar from the neighbouring hills.

My wishes were granted, and a document was signed to that effect by the Basha and Foreign Representatives, and in 1868 I introduced hunting on horseback with the lance—known in India as pigsticking.

The hybrids at first were not disposed to break from covert and give a fair gallop in the open; but when the two ‘hermosas cerdas’ were slain, their progeny behaved better, and now give capital runs across country, and are more disposed to charge than the thoroughbred boar.

The mode of hunting with the lance is to drive a thicket where pig are reported to lie, with beaters, dogs, and stoppers, towards the marsh, plain, or cork-wood, where the pig knows that he can make for covert in an opposite thicket. The chief beater sounds a horn when a boar is on foot, firing gun or pistol should he come to bay. The horsemen are placed down-wind, concealed as much as possible, with directions to keep silent, and not to start until the boar is well away in the open, so as to ride in the rear and check his turning back to the thicket. It is a difficult task to prevent those who are novices or not sportsmen at heart from breaking through these rules, especially ardent youths who may view the boar break, and hope to take the lead by an early start.

The boar, when aware that he is pursued, puts on pace. It requires a fast horse to come up for the first quarter of a mile; but when hard pressed, the boar gets blown, shortens stride, and begins to dodge amongst the low bush.

One of the best gallops I ever had was in pursuit of a huge boar, who took across the lake from a thicket of Arára. My son, a first-rate rider, was with me; we did not carry spears, but had revolvers. After a hard gallop we came up with the boar a few yards before entering the cork-wood. We fired several shots, but the animal sped on at racing pace, charging us alternately. The wounds which the boar received (for blood poured down his flank) were not of a character to stop his career, so away we dashed through the wood, dodging the cork-trees, firing occasionally a shot, until the boar ringed back to the thick jungle of Arára from which he had been driven, and there it was out of the question to follow on horseback. Disheartened and greatly disappointed, for the boar was one of the largest we had seen for many years, we joined the hunters, and dismounted to give our nags a rest, whilst our party lunched.

We had halted for an hour, and were again preparing to mount, when a shepherd, all tattered and torn, ran up to me breathless, saying a ‘halluf,’ black as a ‘Jin’ and as big as a bull, had passed through the flock of sheep he was tending, knocking several over; had charged his dog, and made for the sea, where, he said, after rolling several times, the boar stood erect amidst the waves, throwing water over his body. ‘This lad is a “kedab” (a liar),’ exclaimed one of the hunters. ‘Who ever heard of a boar bathing in the sea at midday?’

‘Make haste,’ exclaimed the lad; ‘it is about half an hour’s walk, and if the boar is not still there, the tracks on the shore will show whether I lie or not.’

So off the hunters started, guided by the shepherd. As we topped the sand-hills which line the coast, a black form, such as the shepherd had described, big as a bull, was viewed amongst the waves. My son and I recognised the enormous beast that had given us the gallop, who had evidently taken to the sea to cool his wounds. As our party approached in line, to check any attempt of the boar to take back to Arára, he came out of the breakers with bristles up, and ‘Volta feroce al inimico!’ (a word of command formerly used in the Portuguese army), prepared to receive us.

Some of the hunters were about to fire, which I prevented, saying I would approach on horseback, as we might have the chance of another gallop. When I got within twenty yards, the beast charged. I fired my revolver, missed, gave spurs to my nag, and was pursued by the boar until the dogs, which had been held back, were let loose; he then took out to sea, breasting the rollers gallantly, making due West for the first port in the United States, with the hounds in his wake.

When the intention of the pig to emigrate became evident and he was already some hundred yards out to sea, I cried ‘Fire!’ as his black form topped a wave. Volley after volley followed, and the huge carcass was washed back on shore. The boar was a hybrid, perfectly black, with good tusks, and measuring about six feet two from snout to root of tail, and three feet two from shoulder to hoof. I have preserved the hide.

The largest boar I have ever seen measured six feet four from snout to tail, three feet four at the shoulder, and weighed twenty stone—clean. An old beater of eighty, whose dog had been wounded to the death, when he came up to the monster lying lifeless, got upon the body, took off from his shaven pate the red gun-cover which he used as a turban, and throwing it on the ground, cried out, ‘Now I can die in peace. The death of this “haisha,” (whale), who has baulked us for years, is what I have longed for. At last! It was written he should die before me,’ and the veteran performed a wild wriggling dance on the carcass of the animal.

This old hunter, named Ben Isa, was still alive, aged a hundred, when I left Tangier in July, 1886.

During one of our beats, a large boar was started from the low bush near the beach below Awára, and two mounted Moors joined me in pursuit. The country was open, and the ground good for galloping. The pig went away at racing pace, bounding like a deer over the low bushes. On getting near, I was astonished to see his ears were cropped like those of a terrier. After a gallop of a mile we speared him. Hadj Abdallah, who was one of my companions, exclaimed, ‘Do you remember four years ago two “berakkel” (squeakers) being caught by the dogs, and you and I carried them in our arms and let them go near a thicket, where they would be safe; but the little fellow you carried turned on you, when freed, and tried to bite your legs, and you bid me catch him and turn him loose again in the thicket? This I did, but he had shown such pluck I thought I would mark him, so I cropped his ears and then let him go, saying “We may meet again.” And here he is, and has given us proof this day that he was as gallant a boar as he was a squeaker.’

Some years ago we had a good day, killing nine boar.

The camp was pitched at Awára, near the farm huts of the chief hunter Hadj Hamed. A large party, both of English and foreigners, went out to join in the sport. On the first two days several boar were killed, though my favourite horse, ‘Snabi,’ was badly wounded. I chased a tusker which took right across the burnt wood towards Awínats and broke into the open on the side of the hill. There I overtook the beast and transfixed him. He charged before I could extract the lance, carrying it under my horse, and inflicted a deep gash between the off fore-leg and chest. I had to dismount and send the poor suffering beast into town. He was very lame for a twelvemonth. I had thought of shooting ‘Snabi,’ but he was such a favourite with my family, that a reprieve was granted. He was the best nag for pigsticking I ever rode. He was not fast, but thoroughly understood the sport, and would take his rider, without guiding, alongside of the pig at the right moment for attack. He never swerved from a boar; no huntsman knew better where the pig would be likely to break, as soon as the shouts of the beaters and the horn were heard, and ‘Snabi’ would be sure to view the animal before his rider, whenever it broke covert.

When desirous of showing sport to any friend who had never seen pigsticking I mounted him on ‘Snabi,’ and my advice was to let the horse take his own direction after the pig, and have his own way when closing with the enemy. If his rider fell, or a hole brought ‘Snabi’ on his head, the nag would get up and stand by, putting his head down, and looking with anxious eyes, as if to say, ‘Get up quickly, the pig is making off.’—‘Snabi’ had belonged to Kaid Meno, the Colonel of the Berber regiment of Askar, and had often been in action when his master was sent by the Sultan in command of a detachment to ‘eat up’ some rebellious tribe. There were several scars on ‘Snabi’s’ dun coat—which, in the sun, shone like gold. One ball could be distinctly felt in his neck.

On the evening of the second day we hunted the Haffa, a wood on the south side of the camp. The lances were placed along the side of the Awínats woods, and numbers of boar were found. But, pig-headed, they refused to cross the plain, and took away out of sight over the rough and open slope of the hill leading towards the sea; had we foreseen which, we should have had long and hard runs.

One enormous fellow, the monster of the forest—described by Hadj Hamed as being as big as my grey horse!—of a glistening grey colour, and with tusks sticking out, as he said, like the horns of a young bull, carried away in pursuit beaters and dogs towards the lake. From the moment this beast was found, he charged dog or man that he happened to sight. He took his time, leisurely moving off at a slow trot, followed at a respectful distance by the beaters, still charging any one who ventured to approach him. A messenger was dispatched for us by Hadj Hamed and we started off in pursuit, but arrived too late, the monster had entered the thicket.

Hadj Alarbi, the head beater, told me that he did not sleep a wink that night from disappointment that the monster boar had escaped; but he added, ‘I never should have allowed you to pursue the giant, for he would have knocked over both horse and rider from sheer weight when he charged. I should have asked some of those “Nazarenes” (indicating the foreigners) to go to the front.’

On the third day it was decided to give a rest to dogs and horses. Many of the party, therefore, went out snipe-shooting; but about 2 p.m., a boar having been viewed by the Italian Minister near the camp, Hadj Hamed proposed that we should have a beat of the Haffa wood. I had hardly placed the lances along the rough hill-side between the camp and the sea-shore, when a large boar was viewed making towards the Shebenía. Away we rattled. C. W. led on his fast horse, and, riding pluckily, got both first spear and a second spear on a charge. J. M. got third, and the boar then took to a thick clump of juniper. We left him there and returned to our posts in time to chase and kill another boar.

Having selected half a dozen beaters with their dogs, we returned to the clump of juniper and myrtle where the wounded boar had retreated. This thicket, standing not far from the sea-shore, covered a space of about two hundred yards square, with open ground on every side. The dogs bayed at the boar, and the riders stood around the thicket down-wind—awaiting his exit, in the hope that, when rested, he would move; but three-quarters of an hour, big with expectation, passed, and though the boar frequently charged the dogs to the brink of the thicket, and occasional howls told us that mischief was done, he never broke, but after each charge went back to the densest part of the copse. I directed the beaters to halloo with all their might and sound the horn, but in vain.

As it was getting late I dismounted, and spear in hand went into the bush; but finding that with ten feet of bamboo in my hand I should be at the mercy of the boar if he charged, I retreated.

In the open towards the sea I found two Moors, with guns, who had come up from camp, standing near a boar-path in the hope of getting a shot; for when a wounded boar takes to covert where horses cannot penetrate, the regulation against using fire-arms is in abeyance.

Sunset was drawing nigh, and, fearing that the wounded animal might die in the thicket before next day, I told the hunters to creep in and shoot the boar. The Moor who had a long native gun declined, saying he could not venture; for, if the boar charged in the bush, through which he would have to creep on hands and knees, the animal would probably be on him before he could fire. But he volunteered to crawl along the top of the bushes, if stiff enough to support him (he was a little wiry fellow), and thus perhaps he might get a shot. The other young Moor had a smart-looking double-barrelled gun, a muzzle-loader, so I challenged him to enter. He replied he was not going to risk his life with such a savage brute still strong in limb. ‘Hark!’ he cried, as a rush, followed by a piteous howl from a hound, was heard. ‘You are a coward,’ I retorted angrily, ‘to remain passive whilst our dogs are being killed.’ ‘You say that I am a coward,’ he replied, handing me the gun; ‘then show that you are not!’

I hesitated, for though I had shot many wounded boar at bay or on the charge, it had always been with my own trusty gun; but feeling I had wronged the Moor by taunting him with cowardice, and that he would have the best of it if I did not take up the glove, I inquired how his gun was loaded. He replied, ‘with ball.’ The copper caps looked bright and appeared to have been lately put on, so, kneeling down and keeping the gun before me at full-cock, I crawled in. The bush was too thick to stand up, for if I had squeezed myself into an upright position, my legs would have been at the mercy of the pig if he charged, which I knew the beast would, if he got a whiff of me or viewed my legs. Moreover I could not have lowered my gun suddenly in the thick bush to take aim.

On I crawled for about twenty-five yards, peering anxiously through the bush. A dog which had been charged came close, and saluted me with his tail and a whimper of satisfaction; then went back to his companions, and no doubt informed them, in dog language, that a man had come to the rescue, for they set up forthwith a chorus of tongue, which again induced the boar to move and engrossed his attention; so, crawling on, I got within ten yards and viewed him, ‘cassant les noisettes,’ as French sportsmen say. Blood streamed down his side and his bristles stood on an end.

I squatted, took deliberate aim behind the right shoulder and pulled the trigger, expecting to see the beast roll over; but a fizz, a faint report, and the sound of a bullet falling amongst the bushes, sounded like my death-knell; for I knew that the boar would in a few seconds be on me. With faint hope, however, that the second barrel would not also contain a damp charge, I held my gun firm. On came the huge beast, and when within three yards with his head towards me, I aimed at his left shoulder; the explosion was faint, but the beast dropped on his head, then rose, charging on to the muzzle of my gun, which I continued to hold steadily in front, sent it flying over my head, whilst I toppled backwards, and with the force of the blow my legs were thrown straight up into the air, and in that position I had sufficient presence of mind to remain, and could see through my legs the grim monster’s head and tusks.

That moment appeared a lifetime, a thousand thoughts of past life flashed through my brain, but the chief one was—My epitaph—‘A fool killed by a pig.’ My last shot had broken his leg at the shoulder, so that the movements of the boar were less active; but on he came, whilst I kept my legs aloft. It is better, I thought, to have my nether limbs ripped than more vital regions. So when his grizzly snout was on me, I brought down with force my right leg, armed with a heavy shooting boot, like a Nasmyth hammer on his skull, which sent the boar, who had only one sound fore-leg, on his knees; this was followed up by the left leg, and I pummelled his head alternately with each foot as the boar tried to get in at me. The right leg I managed to raise rapidly, so that it was not cut; but with the left I was less successful, and it was ripped in three places, as I found afterwards, for at the time I felt no pain. ‘If no one comes to the rescue,’ I cried out, ‘I shall be killed by the “halluf.”’ I had hardly spoken, when suddenly there appeared standing on my left the brave beater, Ahmed Ben Ali, with his hatchet raised in the air about to strike the boar, saying, ‘La bas,’ equivalent to ‘all right.’

The boar left me and went at him; the lithe fellow struck the beast with his hatchet whilst he jumped aside. A shot within a few yards followed. It was from the hunter who had kept his promise, having crawled in a wonderful manner along the tops of the bushes close to where we were, and putting his long gun down on the beast, killed it.

I lay prostrate, my legs and breast bespattered with blood from the boar’s wounds and my own. Ahmed suddenly laid hold of me and began to take off my nether garments. Angered at what appeared to me an inexplicable liberty, I used some strong expressions, not the blessings he deserved for saving my life. Upon which Ahmed said, ‘No time is to be lost: you have blood in front of your clothes, and if the bowels are injured, the wound must be sewn up before the air penetrates. I have needle and silk ready’ (carried by hunters to sew the wounds of dogs). I apologised for my rough language, and thanked the brave fellow for saving my life; then readjusting my unmentionables, I said, ‘The boar has not wounded my body, only my legs, I think,’ for I still felt no pain, but the blood was trickling down, and I could feel my left boot was full of it.

Taking a handkerchief and a stick, I made a sort of tourniquet above the knee, and then Ahmed dragged me out of the thicket. I felt faint, night was approaching, there were fifteen miles to ride to Tangier; but I decided it would be better to return to town than to go to camp and next day find my wounds so stiff that I should not be able to ride. I requested Ahmed to go to camp and send me a flask of brandy by my groom, and tell the latter he was to accompany me to town. I told the hunters, who assembled round me with anxious faces, that I was not seriously hurt, but unfit for riding, and begged them to remain for next day’s hunt, declining the offer of many friends to accompany me to town.

It was a long, weary journey of fifteen miles. My horse stumbled now and then over rocks and mud, for it became pitch dark after the first hour, and I had constant proof of the malignity of matter, for every branch or twig we passed seemed to take pleasure in knocking against my wounds, causing me much pain, and yet I felt joyous, and thankful to God I had not fared worse.

On arrival at the foot of the stairs of the Legation I gave a cheery ‘view halloo,’ so that my family might know I had arrived in good spirits. I was carried upstairs and a surgeon was sent for, who sewed up the wounds. The worst of them was a stab from a tusk, making a deep hole without ripping the flesh, as in the other cuts. For three weeks I lay on my back, though, as the surgeon observed, my flesh was like that of a healthy child, the wound having closed without inflammation.

When the hunters returned from the camp, I sent for brave Ahmed Ben Ali who had saved my life, and gave him a gun and a sword.

During the number of years I have hunted in Morocco, I have killed with gun or spear upwards of five hundred boar, and only once have I been wounded. But I have been knocked over frequently through carelessness in approaching boar at bay down-wind, or in stalking at night. The latter sport, especially when stalking a _solitaire_, is very exciting: it requires skill, patience, and great caution.

I wear, when stalking, shoes with rope-soles, enabling me to tread noiselessly over rough ground. I have stalked boar on a dark night up-wind, when feeding in corn, until I have approached the animal hidden by the crop, and have put the barrel of my gun within a foot of his body before firing. When I heard the boar occupied in tearing off a pod of Indian corn or munching grain, I advanced. When he stopped feeding to listen, as they will cunningly do for several minutes, I stood motionless also, until the munching recommenced.

One very dark night I managed to approach so noiselessly along a narrow path through a copse which led to an orchard—where I had heard from the windows of my villa at ‘Ravensrock’ a boar eating apples—that I actually pushed my knee against the boar, who had his snout in an opposite direction, before either of us became aware that we were at close quarters. My gun was not cocked, for I did not expect to have to use it until I entered the orchard, where I supposed the boar to be still feeding. The leap I made in the air was not more frantic than that of the boar, who jumped into the thicket. We were both terribly startled. The boar had no doubt in the still night heard me close the door of the balcony, two hundred yards off from the orchard, and had hidden in the dark path to listen and await events.

On another occasion, having observed during my rides on the hill that boar came down at night to a rough field of barley, I took my gun a little before sunset and rode to the ground. I left my nag in charge of a Moor, about a quarter of a mile from the field, and directed him to keep quiet, and not to come near the field until I fired a shot. The crop of barley I had observed was poor and short, so I felt sure I should see the body of any boar worth firing at.

I seated myself on a rock about three feet from the ground. In my belt was a long Spanish knife, with a handle made to insert in the muzzle of a gun, like a bayonet. The moon had set, the sky was cloudy, and starlight very faint. I wrapped a piece of white paper as a sight around the gun, a few inches from the lock, so that I could see it, even though the night was very dark. Just as the nine p.m. Gibraltar gun boomed across the Straits, I heard a rustling in the bush and a grunt, warning me the enemy was nigh.

The wind was favourable; the boar had entered the field on a different side from what I expected. I strained my eyes to view the beast, whom I could hear chewing the ears of barley, but could not at first distinguish him.

At length he approached within fifteen yards from the rock where I was seated, and I could just see his head above the barley, therefore I concluded, supposing the stalk was short, it was a sow or only a two-year-old. I waited until the object advanced within a few yards, and I could see a good patch of black body. I fired, and heard the noise of the fall; then the boar rose, went a few yards, and tumbled over, and I could distinctly hear what appeared to be its death-struggles. Then all was still; I got down from the rock, but did not reload, thinking there was no risk, and walked to the spot where I heard the struggles.

In the short barley were several low palmetto bushes. Seeing a dark object move, as I fancied, I aimed and fired. It was a palmetto bush—the leaves shaken by the wind had rustled. Within a few yards of this bush a large form suddenly rose and came slowly towards me. Both barrels were empty. I had barely time to insert the Spanish knife in the muzzle of the gun when I could see a grim head and tusks glistening in the starlight. It was not, as I had supposed, a sow or a pig; it was a tusker.

The ground was favourable, for I stood uphill above the boar. I held the gun so that the knife should enter at the shoulder and not strike the head. As the boar pressed on to reach me, I joyfully felt the blade penetrate into its body up to the hilt, and expected he would fall dead; but no, limping on one sound leg he continued to advance; so I backed, nearly falling over a palmetto bush; then the boar moved to one side to get round upon me, and I followed his movements, dreading every moment that the knife, if the boar retreated, would be withdrawn.

Again he came on with a rush, and I moved rapidly backwards until my back came against a rock in the field about four feet from the ground. I scrambled up it, pressing the knife and gun against the boar’s body to assist me. He tried to follow, but, with his disabled leg, failed and then moved away, carrying the knife in his body, whilst I retained the gun. I reloaded safely on the rock, thanking God for my narrow escape.

As the Moor came up with my horse I shouted to him to keep at a distance, saying the boar was alive and close by. I then got off the rock and advanced carefully, with both barrels loaded, to the spot to which I fancied the animal had retreated. Up he got, and came at me with a rush, receiving the contents of both barrels in his head and body. I found the long Spanish knife had entered the neck above the shoulder, and passed along the skin without penetrating the body. The steel was not good, and had been bent during the struggle. The boar proved to be a fine three-year-old, with tusks which could have cut me into shreds. During my tussle with this beast I had a vivid recollection of having heard that a Moorish hunter, a short time before my adventure, had fired at a boar at night in a field of Indian corn, and had followed up the tracks of blood at dawn for some distance, when he came suddenly upon the wounded animal, who charged before he could fire, knocked him down and ripped his body severely. His family, finding next morning he did not return, sent out in quest of him to the field of corn, and there he was found in a dying state, wounded in the stomach, just able to relate what had happened. Within a few yards of the wounded man lay the tusker quite dead.

Some years ago an English official at Tangier, R———, a very absent man, sallied out one night to sit for a large boar, which was reported to pass every evening after dusk a path not far from my stable at Ravensrock. Near this path in the bush was a rock, on which my friend squatted with a double-barrelled gun to await the boar.

It was a very dark night, but the path of white sand in front, contrasting with the green bush around, could be clearly seen, as also any object moving along it. He heard the tread of a large animal, and as it approached within a few feet he fired, but his horror and dismay can be imagined when down fell a donkey with panniers and a man on the top! Explanations ensued, with warm expressions of regret on the part of R———, which were accepted good-naturedly by the Moor, especially when the former put in his hands double the value of the donkey and the panniers. The ball had passed through the top of the skull of the donkey. Strange to say the animal recovered, and was made use of in R———’s garden.

Boar during the fruit-harvest come down to the orchards near Tangier and commit great ravages. When sufficient fruit is not scattered on the ground, they will rub against apple or pear trees until the fruit falls, or they will spring on the top of a trellis of vines, tearing it down to the ground to get at the grapes. The Moors put nooses of rope at the gaps in the hedge where boar enter, and fasten the noose to a tree or to a bundle of branches. The animal is often found strangled in the morning; but when the rope is fastened to loose branches it is less likely to snap, and the boar will carry off the bundle, until stopped by an entanglement of the rope with some other object.

Being out one day with a party of hunters, I saw at a distance a thick bush moving slowly, as by magic, along the top of a dense copse of gum cistus. No horse or man could be seen. One of the hunters exclaimed, ‘a boar has been caught in a noose! See the bush to which it is fastened moving along the top of the copse.’ We decided to take the animal alive, so approaching the bush and long rope to which the noose was attached, we laid hold of the rope and pulled it tight, until the boar was half-strangled. We then gagged the beast with a thick stick and string. He was dragged out of the thicket, put on a pack animal and carried to a room in my stable, where the gag was removed and food and water given.

Next day I invited a party of riders to see the boar turned loose in the open, two or three miles away from the bush. The horsemen took no weapons, and our motley pack of boar-dogs were held in leash by hunters, who were directed to let go when I should give the signal after the pig had a fair start of one hundred and fifty yards.

Some ladies joined us on horseback, but my wife, being nervous, rode a donkey, and had a Moor to lead it and to take care of my young son, who was in front. I placed them on a hillock about two hundred yards off, where I thought they would be safe and be able to view the boar. Telling the horsemen and Moors who held the dogs in leash not to start until I gave the signal, I had the boar conveyed to a high bank on a dry watercourse, and then removing the gag and untying the rope, we dropped him gently down, thus giving time for the men on foot to hide and me to mount before the boar could charge us. He was only a two-year-old, so his tusks were not very formidable. The boar bolted up the gulley, and on reaching the top of the bank looked around, North, South, East and West, but saw no cover. Viewing my horse about forty yards off he charged, and I galloped away. The boar halted, looked around, and saw on the mound an object with brilliant ribbons dangling in the wind, and then to my great consternation made straight for my wife’s donkey. In vain I rode full tilt, cracking my hunting-whip, trying to turn the beast, and shouting to the hunters to let the dogs slip; but before they came up, the boar got under the donkey, trying to rip it, whilst the Moor, holding my son aloft on his shoulders, was kicking at the boar.

Up came the dogs, who drew off the boar’s attention, and away he went; but being better inclined to fight than to gallop, the chase was short, and he was pulled down by the dogs.

‘Take this knife,’ I said to a long Yankee official; ‘as this is your first boar-hunt, you shall have the honour of giving the death-blow.’ Knife in hand, the New Yorker fearlessly advanced, and was inserting expertly the blade near the region of the heart, when up jumped the dying pig, knocked over his lank antagonist, and then fell never to rise again.

Boar when caught young become very attached to man, and will follow like a dog. They can be taught cleanly habits when kept in a house, but have no respect for flowers, and cannot resist rooting up any object which is not firmly fixed in the ground or pavement. I had a large sow as a pet, which followed me out riding for long distances.

When attacked by dogs on passing villages, the sow would turn on them and fight gallantly, until I came to the rescue with my hunting-whip. She became at length very troublesome, and would be off on the loose into the town whenever the stable-door happened to be left open. I had frequent complaints from bakers and greengrocers, and had heavy damages to pay for robberies of bread, so I gave orders that the sow was to be shut up in a yard.

One day, when the door had been left open, as the sow rushed rapidly up the street towards a greengrocer’s shop in the little market-place, where she was accustomed to rob, it happened that a young mulatto woman, whose legs had been paralysed for some years, and who gained her livelihood by begging, was crawling on her elbows and knees along the streets, coming down towards the Legation. She had never seen a pig in her life, so when she beheld a large black animal rushing frantically, as she supposed, to devour her, thought it was a ‘Jin[68].’

The shock was so great, that up she scrambled and ran off; the paralysis of her legs had ceased. This miracle performed by the sow was a source of wonder to all, especially to the Mohammedans, loth to believe that ‘Allah’ should make use of the unclean animal to heal the maimed. The next day the mulatto appeared at my gate, walking upright, to petition that I should give her compensation for the fright she had experienced, pleading also that the pig had deprived her of the means of gaining her livelihood, for she was now whole, and no one took pity and bestowed alms on her as before. I gave her only my blessing, for she was strong and young, and could work. The sow was presented by me to a gentleman in England, who wished to introduce a cross of the wild animal.

The sagacity of the boar is greater than that of most animals. A Moorish Sheikh dwelling in the mountains about forty miles from Tangier, brought as a gift to the Basha a full-grown boar, that had been caught when only two months old. The animal had become very tame; it was brought tied on the back of a pack mule.

A few days after presentation the Basha’s sons carried the boar out into the country and let it loose, slipping greyhounds to give chase. The boar knocked over the hounds, charged and ripped two horses, and got away. Next morning it was found feeding quietly in the yard of its master’s house, forty miles off! I was glad to learn that the owner, on hearing how his pet had been treated by the Basha’s sons, kept the animal until it died.

In the present century lions have rarely been seen in the Northern province of Morocco.

During a residence of many years I have only heard of two having been seen in the woods between Tangier and Cape Spartel. I cannot account for these lions having wandered so far from the Atlas Mountains—where they are still to be found—except, as the Moors of those regions relate, that when the winter has been unusually cold and snow has fallen heavily, the wild animals which dwell in the higher parts of the Atlas descend to the valleys and plains. Should a thaw suddenly set in, and rivers and brooks become swollen, the lions and other wild animals which seek to return to the mountains are prevented repassing the rapid streams, and stray away from the district, seeking for forest or for an uninhabited country, and, moving along the chain of hills to the northward, reach the district of Spartel—which is about seven miles square—bounded on the western side by the Atlantic and on the northern by the Straits of Gibraltar.

Early one morning I had a visit from several inhabitants of the village of ‘Jamah Makra,’ not far from the site of my present villa ‘Ravensrock,’ which stands on a hill, three miles out of Tangier, surrounded by woods. The men came to request that I should assemble my hunters and sally out in pursuit of a wild animal which, they related, had lacerated with its claws the flank of a mare and bitten it in the neck. They informed me that they had been roused in the middle of the night by the tramp of horses galloping through the lanes—snorting and neighing—and supposed that cavalry had been sent to surround the village. But to their surprise they found their own ponies (which are allowed to run loose on the hills when not required for agricultural purposes, and live in a half-wild state, never allowing man to approach them, especially at night-time) had by instinct sought safety in the village, trying to penetrate even into the huts. Amongst the herd was the wounded mare, in a dying state.

I assembled a party of hunters with their boar-dogs, and proceeding to the spot we found round the village tracks of a large animal; evidently of the feline race, as the footprints were round, with no mark of nails, but had pads, as in the print of a cat’s foot. The beast appeared to have avoided as much as possible the open path, and to have walked near or amongst the ilex bushes, on which we found long tawny hairs, showing it was a male lion. We also came across the half-eaten carcasses of a boar and of a porcupine. There were marks too as of a herd of boar making a stampede in a southerly direction, fleeing from the dread monarch of the woods.

We turned our dogs into the thicket—where, by the tracks, we knew the lion had entered—and placed two guns at each run. But the dogs returned from the thicket and shrank behind their masters. They had evidently come upon or winded the lion, and we could not induce them to hunt. The beaters, after entering the thicket, firing guns, and beating drums, refused to advance further; so we had to abandon the hunt.

A woman whom we met informed us that, on going to a fountain in her orchard to draw water, she had met a ‘jin’ (evil spirit), evidently, from her description, a lion; that she became paralysed from fright and could not move; that the ‘jin’ had eyes like lamps, and after gazing at her had turned aside into the bush.

The Moors believe that lions will never attack a nude woman, such is the magnanimous beast’s delicate sense of shame. Lionesses, it is to be concluded, are less particular. The dame did not mention that she had a knowledge of this, so we know not whether she dropped her vestments to save her life.

There was a good moon; so I determined to sit for the lion, safely perched on a rock, where, though it would be possible for a lion to climb, yet I should have had a great advantage in an encounter with gun and pistols. I passed the night in a state of excitement—starting at every rustle made by rabbit, ichneumon, or even rats—without seeing anything of the king of beasts. But about midnight I heard what sounded from a distance like the deep bellow of a bull.

A few days later, hearing that the track of the lion had been seen at ‘Ain Diab,’ a wood near Cape Spartel, I collected the hunters and rode to the ground, about eight miles from Tangier. There we tracked the lion into a dense thicket. The dogs again refused to hunt, as on the previous occasion, winding no doubt the lion. This was good proof that he was at home; so posting the guns, I directed the beaters to drive the wood from the foot of the hill and that guns should occasionally be fired and drums beaten.

A few minutes after I had taken up my post a Moor hurried up to where I was standing, in a great state of excitement, pale as death, saying, ‘I have seen the man[69]!’ ‘What man?’ I asked. He repeated, ‘I have seen the man! I had entered the thicket to look at an olive-tree from which I thought I could cut a good ramrod; there is a rock rising about twenty feet above the olive-tree, and as I stooped to look whence I could best cut a branch, I saw a great shaggy head, with fierce eyes glaring at me from between two huge paws. I had laid down my gun to cut the olive stick; I dared not turn to take it up again, so left it there and crawled back through the bush to tell you what I have seen.’

The rock, which he then pointed out, was about two hundred yards from where we stood. I collected the sportsmen and selected three of them (my brother and two Moors upon whose courage I could depend), and we determined to beard the lion in his den. My left arm was in a sling, having been injured while playing cricket a few days previously. As we advanced into the dense thicket I was prevented, by the pain caused by the branches knocking against my arm, from following quickly my companions. Carried away by their desire to slay the lion, they rushed on headlong, regardless of wait-a-bit thorns and other impediments; so I was left in the lurch. Feeling uncertain about the exact direction they had taken, but hearing, as I thought, the sound of some one passing in front of me, I shouted, ‘Where are you? why are you returning?’ No reply. Yet it was evident the moving object had approached me within a very few yards. Again I called, ‘Why don’t you speak?’ Then I heard a rush, as I suddenly came to an open spot of sandy soil, upon which I could trace the footmarks of the lion who had just passed. The animal had evidently moved away from the rock when he heard or saw the three men approaching, and having no desire to attack man unprovoked, had doubled back, passing close to me. All this flashed through my brain; I halted, kept perfectly still, holding my breath, for I had not the courage, alone and with an injured arm, to follow the dread beast. Moreover, I could never have caught it up, at least I tried so to convince myself, and thus to hush any feeling of shame at my cowardice.

My companions returned a few minutes afterwards, reporting that they had reached the rock where the lion had been; but he had evidently left on their approach, and they had tracked him through the bush to the spot where I had stood when he passed. We followed the direction the lion took for some time without success, and we supposed he must have made off at a swinging trot.

The following day we heard that an ox had been killed on the hills of Anjera between Tangier and Tetuan, and that the lion had gone in the direction of the snow-topped mountains of Beni Hassén.

On each visit of a lion to the Tangier district the track of a hyena had been seen to follow that of the sultan of the forest.

On one occasion, when there were rumours of a lion having been heard of in the Tangier district, and we were out hunting boar in the woods near Spartel, I heard several shots fired from the side of a hill where I had posted the guns, and a beater shouting to me, as I stood hidden behind a small rock in some low bush, ‘“Ya el Awar!”—Oh ye blind! The lion to you!’ An instant after I viewed, bounding over the bushes, a large shaggy animal. With its huge mouth open and bristling mane, it looked very terrible; but I knew at once it was not a lion; so I waited till the beast was within a few yards and sent a bullet through its heart. It turned out to be a very large Hyena rufus—striped, not spotted—larger than any specimen of that animal I have seen in the Zoological Gardens or any menagerie.

The stench of the animal was overpowering; the skin was in beautiful condition, and proved very handsome when preserved.

A grand lion was seen many years ago, standing in the early morning on the sand-hills which line the beach close to the town of Tangier, and causing great alarm. But it turned out to be a tame lion which a ‘Shloh’ woman—who, as a Sherífa, was endowed with a slight halo of sanctity—had brought captive from the Atlas Mountains. She led it about with only a loose rope round its neck, as she begged from village to village, and had arrived outside the gates of Tangier the previous evening, after they were closed, and she had laid down to sleep near the lion, which, during the night, had strayed away. This lion was quite tame and harmless, and came back to her from the sand-hills when she called it.

A Spanish gentleman told me that returning home late one dark night from a party in Tangier, carrying a small lantern to light his way, he saw what he fancied was a donkey coming towards him in one of the very narrow streets of the town where two stout persons on meeting can hardly pass each other. He turned his lantern on the object, and, to his dismay, saw the glistening eyes and shaggy head of a lion which he had already seen led in daytime by the woman through the streets. The beast was alone, without its keeper. The Don said he had never made himself so small as when he stood against a closed door to allow his Majesty to pass; which he did quite pacifically.

‘Oh ye blind! The lion to you!’

This accusation of blindness is perhaps the mildest form of abuse employed by the beaters, in the excitement of the hunt, to the guns posted to await the boar. Sir John, as Master of the Hunt, shared in the very liberal abuse indulged in by the men who had laboriously driven the boar from the thick coverts towards him and his friends, native and foreign, who waited to shoot the pigs as they broke. Every possible term of abuse—and Arabic is rich in such—together with imprecations such as only Oriental imagination could devise, would be yelled at them as a warning not to miss. Strangers too would always be indicated by any peculiarity in their appearance or dress. Neither did the excited beaters, at such moments, put any check on their rough wit. But the railing of Moorish sportsmen at each other, however violent in the ardour of the chase, is never resented.

As a case in point, Sir John related the following story.

A former Governor of Tangier, a thorough sportsman, was out hunting on one occasion, when a man of low degree who was acting as beater, and, as is usually the case, had his own dogs with him, started a boar in the direction of the Basha, who was sitting near the animal’s expected path ready to receive him. The beater called out, swearing lustily at the Basha, and using every opprobrious term he could think of; adding that if he missed his shot he should never be allowed to fire again!

The Basha fired and killed the boar.

Some little time after, when the beat was finished, the huntsmen assembled as usual, and the Basha asked who it was that had started the boar he had shot. The poor beater, feeling he had exercised the licence of the chase rather too boldly, kept somewhat in the background, but, on this challenge, came forward and acknowledged that it was he who had done so.

‘And what did you shout out to me when the boar took in my direction?’ asked the Basha. The beater, dismayed, was silent. But on the question being repeated, acknowledged having called out, ‘The boar to you—oh blind one!’

‘Only that!’ exclaimed the Basha. ‘Surely I heard you abuse me. Tell me what you said.’

In reply to this the beater, in desperation, burst out with all the abuse he had uttered. Whereupon the Basha, taking from his wallet four ‘metskal’ (then worth some three Spanish dollars), presented them to the beater, saying, ‘Take this. I know you were anxious on account of your dogs, and for the success of the sport. I pardon your abuse of me.’

After his retirement from his official position, Sir John lived little more than seven years, dividing his time between Morocco and Europe, returning, as has been said, for the winter to his beloved ‘Ravensrock,’ enjoying his sport to the end, and at intervals jotting down his ‘Scraps from my Note-book’ as a slight record of his life. ‘I feel,’ he says, referring to the appearance of some of his stories in _Murray’s Magazine_, ‘like a dwarf amongst tall men. Never mind. If my relatives and friends are pleased and amused, I shall continue to unwind the skein of my life till I reach my infancy.’ Among the last of the notes made by Sir John in his ‘Note-book’ was the following, which may be appropriately introduced at the close of this sketch of his career.

_Body and Soul._

‘The death of the aged is always easy,’ said the F’ki Ben Yahia, ‘compared with the death of the young.’

‘This arises,’ continued the F’ki, ‘from the willingness with which the immortal soul is glad to flee from an aged body, corrupted by a long residence in this world, and from disgust at the sin and wickedness into which it has been plunged by the depravity of the body. Whereas, the young body and soul are loth to part; for the soul rejoices in the innocent enjoyments of youth and the harmless pleasures of this world, and to separate them is, as it were, to separate the young damsel from her first pure love.’

‘Oh, merciful God!’ exclaimed the F’ki, ‘put away the corruption of my body, and teach me to follow the purer inspiration of the soul which was breathed into me by Thee, O Almighty and Incomprehensible God!’

In Berwickshire, at Wedderburn Castle, a place then rented by him, Sir John Hay Drummond Hay died on the evening of Monday, Nov. 27, 1893.

He was buried in the churchyard of Christ Church, Duns. A few days after the funeral one of the family received a letter from a member of the British Legation at Tangier, in which he mentioned that on going to the Legation on the morning of Nov. 27, he was surprised to see the British flag at half-mast, and, calling to the kavass in charge, reprimanded him for his carelessness, directing him to take the flag down.

The kavass excused himself, saying that, while hauling down the flag the previous evening, the halyard had broken, and he had consequently been unable to lower the flag further; but that he had sent for a man to swarm the mast and repair the halyard and thus release the flag. This however, the writer added, was not accomplished till next morning.

Thus it happened that while the man was passing away who for forty years had represented Great Britain in Morocco, the British flag remained at half-mast.

INDEX.

* * * * *

Abbas Pasha, 26.

Abbotsford, 3.

Abd-el-Hadi, 136.

Abd-el-Kader, 69, 71, 72.

Abd-el-Kerim, 227.

Aberdalgie, 6.

Aberdeen, Lord, 44, 66, 68.

Acre, 30.

Addington, H. C., 135; his letter to Sir J. D. Hay, 140.

Agadir, 317.

Agraz battle, 160.

Ahal Kubla tribe, 297.

Ahmed Ben Ali, 381.

Ain Dalia, 79.

Ain Diab wood, 392.

Ain-Umast fountain, 122.

Aisa, 228.

Aisawa, or snake-charmers, 177.

Aji, 236.

Akba el Hamra hills, 85.

Akhlij village, 292.

Alarbi el Saidi, 184.

Alcalá, 14.

Alexandria, 24.

Alfred, Prince, at Tangier, 203.

Alhádari, 147.

Alhucema, Island of, 148.

Ali Bufra, 241.

Alison, Charles, 49, 73.

Allen, Mr., 347.

Amar, Sheikh, 252.

Andersen, Hans Christian, ‘In Spain,’ 222, 225; his description of the old Legation, 222; his letter to Lady Hay, 225.

Anjera, 186, 393.

Arab dance, 91.

Arára, 366, 374.

Argan tree, 122.

‘Arum arisarum’ or yerna, 325 _note_.

Ashkar, caves of, 364.

Assuad, Sultan, 99; inscription on his tomb, 99 _note_.

Athol, H.M.S., 6.

Atlas Mountains, 116, 272, 276, 289, 293, 390; valley, 290.

Austria, Emperor of, 363.

Awára plain, 185, 369, 371, 376.

Awínats wood, 376.

Azaila, 137, 242.

Azamor, 169.

Azdot, 142.

Bab-el-Haddad, or the Smithy Gate, 99.

Bab-el-Khemés, or the Thursday-gate, 111.

Bab-el-Mahsen, or the Government-gate, 289.

Bab Hamár gate, 107.

Bab Khadár, or ‘the Green Gate,’ 112.

Bakáli, Sheríf, 283.

Ball, Mr. J., 88 _note_.

Bankhead, Charles, 49.

Bardlaiimi, 129.

Barker, Mr. Burchardt, 16.

Barnett, Colonel, 63.

Barseset, Izak, 128.

Basha Hamed, 223.

Beehive, a Moorish, 195 _note_.

Beheira u el Gintsor, 269.

Bell, Dr., 23.

Ben Abd-el-Sadek, 364.

Ben Dawud, 275.

Ben Dris, the Grand Uzir, 113, 301; conferences with Sir J. D. Hay, 113, 115, 117.

Ben Isa, 376.

Ben Nasr, F’ki Sid Mohammed and Zarhoni, dialogue between, 81.

Ben Nis, 283.

Benabu, Governor of Tangier, 184; story of his arrest and death, 184-192; his system of governing, 193.

Beni Aros, 210.

Beni Gorfet mountain, 242.

Beni Hassén mountain, 393; tribe, 90.

Beni M’suar mountain, 242, 371.

Benibugaffer village, 144, 146.

Benisargan, Jakob, 128.

Benshiten, 131.

Berbers, origin of the, 291.

Besika Bay, 60.

Beyrout, 30.

Birra Burub pass, 269.

Boar-hunting, 366-389.

Bojador, Cape, 317.

Bokhari guards, 119, 274.

Bonelli eagle, 367.

Borj Ustrak, 158.

Bosco, his sleight of hand, 33.

Briant, 43.

Brij, 368.

Brooks, Mr., 296.

— Mrs., 363.

Broussa, 51.

Bu Amar hill, 371.

Bubána river, 185.

Buceta, Colonel, Governor of Melilla, 149.

Buchanan, Mr., 208.

Bugeaud, Maréchal, 79.

Bulwer, Sir Henry, 68.

—, Mr., 67, 68, 70, 71, 185.

Buyukdere, 50.

Cadiz, 225.

Campbell, Colonel, 28.

Canning, Lady, 47, 66.

Canning, Sir Stratford, 47, 58, 66; appointed Ambassador at Constantinople, 49; his method of conducting business, 49; letter from Sir J. D. Hay on the state of affairs in Tangier, 68-71.

Carstensen, Mr., 142, 223.

Cartwright, Mr., 66.

Castelar, Señor, 207.

Cattle-lifting in Morocco, 193.

Ceuta, its advantages over Gibraltar, 234.

Chapman, Mrs., anecdote of Sir J. D. Hay, 164.

Charmes, M., contributor of _Débats_, 355.

Cholera, 23, 166, 325.

Christ Church, Duns, 397.

Christina, Queen, 11.

Cockburn, Lord, 2.

Commercial Convention, advantages of a, 168; basis of the Treaty, 179; ratification, 182; revision, 338, 343, 348, 360.

Constantinople, 30.

Copenhagen, 66.

Curzon, Robert, 49.

Dad i Sirr Island, 292.

Daha, 128.

Dar Aklau, 85.

Dar-el-Baida, 314, 340; number of deaths from cholera, 325.

Dar-Mulai-Ali, 341.

Davidson, 317.

Denmark, King of, confers the order of the Grand Cross on Sir J. D. Hay, 71, 363.

Derby, Lord, 317, 353; his Eastern policy, 319.

Diosdado, Señor, 343.

Doyle, Percy, 30, 49.

Dra, 127.

Drummond, Dean, Rector of Hadleigh, 5.

Dufferin, Lord, 336.

Dukála, Governor of, 105.

Duns, 397.

Dupplin Castle, 5.

Dwarf, The, 40; his wife, 41.

‘Eating up,’ the practice of, 233.

Edinburgh, 1.

Egypt, plague in, 22.

El Araish, 87, 136.

El Kántara, 179.

El Kra, a lake or marsh, 89.

El Ksar battle, 241.

El Kus river, 87.

Eleg, 128.

Erhamna district, 106, 266.

Escazena, 112, 116.

E’Sfi, or the pure, 285.

E’Suizi, Governor, 93.

‘Etymons of the English Language,’ 5.

Fairlie, 232.

Falcons, hunting with, 266; legend, 267.

Fas, 93; first mission to, in 1868, 236; second mission in 1875, 307; third mission in 1880, 329; the ladies of, 237.

Fatmeh, 190.

Féraud, M., 354.

Ferguson, 3.

Ferry, M., 345, 351.

Ford, Sir Francis Clare, 11.

—, Mr., his ‘Handbook of Spain,’ 11.

Forde, Mr., 214.

Forster, Henry, 20.

France, relations with Morocco, 66, 133, 135, 345; demands of, 69.

Franciscan Brotherhood, Father Superior of the, 343.

Frost, J., 99 _note_.

Fum Ajrud stream, 158.

_Gaulois_, charges against the Foreign Representatives, 346, 351.

Ghaba Sebaita, 366.

Ghamára mountains, 158.

Gharbía, Kaid Sheikh of, 85.

Ghásats E’Nil, or the Garden of the Nile, 112, 118.

Ghemáts river, 291.

Gibraltar, question of the exchange for Ceuta, 233; measures against the cholera, 325, 326.

_Gibraltar Chronicle_, extract from, on the Moorish loan, 220.

Gla, a stream, 88.

Glaui, heights of, 292.

Glücksberg, Duc de, 68.

Gordon, Captain, 6.

Gordon, Hon. A., letter from Sir J. D. Hay on his mission to Sultan Mulai Abderahman, 76.

Goschen, Mr., 336.

Granville, Lord, interview with Sir J. D. Hay, 350; his defence of him in the House of Lords, 351.

Green, Mr., 207, 226.

Gregorio de Borgas y Tarius, Don, 7.

Grey, Admiral, 233.

—, Mrs., 9 _note_.

Habor, 128.

Hadj Abdallah Lamarti, 148, 376.

Hadj Abdallah Tif, Governor of Rabát, 93.

Hadj Abderahman Ben el Amri, 90.

Hadj Abd Selam, 104, 109.

Hadj Alarbi, 312, 378.

Hadj Gabári, the jester, 116.

Hadj Hamed Lamarti, 296, 376; illness, 365.

Hadj Kassem, 100.

Hadj Kassim, 161-164.

Haffa wood, 377, 378.

Haha, Governor of, 284.

Hajara el Ghaghab, or rock of ravens, 224.

Hajot, 315.

Hall, Captain, 148, 152.

Hamádsha, dances of the, 91, 177.

Hammond, Lord, 20.

Hara, or village of lepers, 107, 111.

Hashef river, 85.

Hassan, Mosque of, 92.

Hastings, Marquess of, 5.

Havelock, 4.

Hay, Lady, 296, 312, 328; letter from Hans Christian Andersen, 225.

—, Sir Edward, 6.

—, Sir John Hay Drummond, birth, 1; at the Edinburgh Academy, 2; Charterhouse, 4; at Tangier, 7; under the tuition of Don Gregorio, 8; meets José Maria, 11; proficiency in Arabic, 16; his ‘Western Barbary,’ 17; his fortune told by Leila, 17; appointed Attaché at Constantinople, 20; at Marseilles, 22; fear of the plague, 22; attacked by cholera, 24; at Alexandria, 24; purchases a gem, 26; at Constantinople, 30; his first dispatch, 30; life at the Embassy, 42; at the Armenian banker’s, 45; effect of the narghileh, 47; selected confidential Attaché to Sir S. Canning, 50; sent to Broussa, 51; receives hospitality from a Turk, 52-57; obtains leave of absence, 58, 66; at Paris, 60; Egypt, 63; Stockholm, 66; Tangier, 67; his letter to Sir S. Canning on the state of affairs in Tangier, 68-71; appointed Political Agent and Consul-General in Morocco, 74; starts on his mission to Sultan Mulai Abderahman in 1846, 77; an Arab serenade, 91; reception at Rabát, 92-96; attacked by a mob at Salli, 101; at Marákesh, 108; received by the Sultan, 113, 118, 216, 217, 232, 270; conferences with Uzir Ben Dris, 115, 117; his return to Tangier, 124; on the habits of the Moors, 124; the Jews, 125; promoted to the rank of Chargé d’Affaires, 134; his efforts to develop trade, 134, 140, 168; his ride from El Araish, 136; adventure with a Moslem, 138; his firm policy, 139; marriage, 142; influence over the natives, 142, 363; love of sport, 143, 365; suppression of piracy among the Rifians, 144; his kindness during the famine, 164; on the advantages of a Commercial Convention, 168; his second mission to Marákesh in 1855, 169; reception at Azamor, 169; at Shawía, 171; result of his mission, 179; ratification of the Treaty, 181; created a C.B., 183; on the downfall of Benabu, 184-192; gift of a leopard, 199; on the outbreak of hostilities with Spain, 206; his efforts to protect property, 208; attack of influenza, 213; his mission to Meknes, 214; terms of the proposed loan, 218; nominated K.C.B., 219; suffers from his eyes, 219; the British Legation, 221; ‘The Wilderness,’ 223; his summer residence, 224; acts of kindness, 226; third mission to Marákesh in 1863, 230; at Rabát, 230; on the exchange of Gibraltar for Ceuta, 233; at Fas, 236; audiences of the Sultan, 238; proposed reforms, 238; Minister Plenipotentiary, 264; fourth mission to Marákesh in 1872, 264; legend of the falcon, 267; enters Marákesh, 269; dinner with Sid Musa, 272; the menu, 273; his final interview with the Sultan, 276-282; entry into Mogador, 284; crossing the bar at Saffi, 286; expedition to the Atlas mountains, 289; mission to Fas in 1875, 307; proposes various reforms, 314, 317; reception by Sultan Mulai Hassan, 315; at the feast of the Mulud, 316; on the Sahara scheme, 317; his annual holidays, 318; on the crisis in Turkey, 319; on Sir H. Layard’s appointment, 320; on the question of Protection, 321; famine, 324; cholera, 325; the quarantine regulations, 325; illness of his son, 327; third mission to Fas in 1879, 329; interview with Uzir Mokhta, 330-333; reforms agreed to, 334; promoted to the rank of Envoy Extraordinary, 335; letters from M. Tissot, 336; failure of his project for the exportation of grain, 339; at Marákesh, 340; on the state of Morocco, 344, 347; on the relations between France and Morocco, 345, 349; charges against him, 346; interview with Lord Granville, 350; G.C.M.G. conferred, 350; exoneration in the House of Lords, 350-353; his impression of M. Féraud, 354; weariness of his work, 356; on the system of slavery, 357; prison reform, 358; fails to obtain a revision of the Commercial Treaty, 360; delight at leaving, 360; letter from the Sultan’s Prime Minister, 361-363; Privy Councillor, 363; accounts of boar hunts, 366-389; introduces pigsticking, 373; hunting a lion, 390; death, 397.

—, Mr. E. A. Drummond, 1, 5, 28, 293; appointed Political Agent and Consul-General in Morocco, 6; his mission to Marákesh, 66; illness and death, 68.

—, Mr. R. Drummond, 293, 296; consul at Mogador, 324; illness, 327.

—, Mr. R., 8.

—, Mr. R. W., 139.

—, Mrs., 4.

—, Mrs. R. Drummond, 237, 328.

—, Miss, 237, 240, 312; extracts from her diary, 284, 289; received by the Sultan, 342.

—, Miss A., 266.

—, Louisa, 9.

Hiazna, Governor of, 72.

‘Hill,’ the, 224.

Hitchcock, Major, 296.

Hodges, Colonel, 21, 24.

Hooker, Sir Joseph, letters from Sir J. D. Hay, 264, 318, 324.

Ibdaua, Sheikh of, 87.

Ibrahim Pasha, 30.

Isly, battle of, 79.

Jamah Makra village, 390.

Jebar, the Khalífa of Wazan, 345.

Jebel Habíb hills, 371.

Jebel Kebír, 207 _note_, 224.

Jebel Musa, 224.

Jebíla hills, 105, 269.

Jelab, torture of the, 186 _note_.

Jewesses, the, 129, 271; dress, 130, 271.

Jews, the, of Morocco, 125, 271; number of, 129; despotic rules, 130; oath, 131.

Jin, or evil spirit, 389, 391.

João, the Portuguese Gunsmith, story of, 241-263.

Joinville, Prince de, 67, 68.

José, Don, 101.

José Maria, the famous brigand, 11; account of his pardon, 12; his robberies, 13; his horse, 14; his death, 15.

‘Journal of the Society for Psychical Research,’ extract from, 327.

Judah Azalia, 126; his memorandum about the Jews, 127-129.

Judah El Hayugni, 129.

Kab ghazal, or gazelle hoofs, 273.

Kaddor, 109.

Kaid Abbas Emkashéd, 161.

Kaid Abd-el-Kerim, 77, 109; his account of the battle of Isly, 79-81.

Kaid Ben Abu, 78, 98.

Kaid Ben Tahir, Governor of Azamor, 169.

Kaid Bu Aiesh, 269.

Kaid ‘Bu Jebel,’ 78.

Kaid-el-Meshwa, or High Chamberlain, 216.

Kaid Erha, meaning of the term, 265.

Kaid E’Susi, 96.

Kaid Maclean, 327.

Kaid Madáni, 112.

Kaid Maimon and the lion, 303-306.

Kaid Meno, theft of a horse, 308-311.

Kaid Serbul, 87.

Kasba Faráo, 214.

Kasba Jedída, 342.

Kenneth III, King of Scots, 267.

Khamás mountains, 158.

Kholj river, 85.

Kinnoull, Earl of, 1, 5.

Kubbats E’Suiera, or the ‘Picture Cupola,’ 112.

Kus, 317.

Kutubía Mosque, 106, 108, 111, 269.

‘Lab-el-barod,’ 311, 313.

Lahleh, 128.

Lalande, Admiral, 60; his message to Lord Ponsonby, 61; death, 63.

Lamarti, Selam, 17.

Lambton, Colonel, 296.

Lane, E. W., his ‘Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians,’ 77.

Lasakia, 129.

Lasats, 129.

Laurin, M., 27.

Layard, Sir Henry, letters from Sir J. D. Hay on the exchange of Gibraltar for Ceuta, 233; on his reception by the Sultan, 288; on the accession of Mulai Hassan, 307; on laying a cable, 314; appointed Ambassador at Constantinople, 320.

Leech, 4.

Legation, the British, at Tangier, 221.

Leila predicts Sir J. D. Hay’s fortune, 17-19.

Lerchundi, Padre, 344.

Liddell, Mr., 207.

Lion and the lark, anecdote of the, 84; hunting a, 390.

Lively, H.M.S., 264, 285.

Loncarty battle, 267.

Londonderry, Lady, 36; her interview with the Sultan, 37.

Londonderry, Lord, 36.

Lorimer, Dr., 23.

Lynedoch, Lord, 1.

Maada or sedge canoe, 89, 90.

Mactavish, 49.

Madrid, conference on the system of protection in Morocco, 323.

Mahazen river, 243.

Mahmud Canal, 25.

Mahmud, Sultan, his dwarf, 40.

Maimon, the leopard, 199.

Malmesbury, Lord, 198, 353.

Marákesh, 66, 105, 108; first mission to, in 1846, 77; second mission in 1855, 169; third mission in 1863, 230; fourth mission in 1873, 264; in 1882, 340.

Marcussen, Mme., letters from Sir J. D. Hay, 138, 139.

Marseilles, 22.

Marshan plateau, 268.

Matra, James Mario, 221.

Mauboussin, M., 60.

Maule, William, 49.

Mazagan, 264, 314.

McKenzie & Co., 317.

Mehemet Ali, 24, 44.

Meknes, mission to, in 1861, 214.

Melilla fortress, 144.

Mesfíwa village, 106, 291, 292.

Meteor, the, 124.

Miranda, H.M. frigate, 148.

Mishra-el-Hashef river, 137, 239.

Mogador, Island of, 69, 123; famine in, 324.

Mohammed Ben Abdallah, Sultan, 123.

— Ben El Amrani, bastinadoed, 105.

— Gharrit, letter of farewell to Sir J. D. Hay, 361.

Mokhta, the Uzir, 329; questions of etiquette, 331; interview with Sir J. D. Hay, 332; his palace, 333.

Mona, system of, 86, 340.

‘Moorish Prince, a story of a,’ 300-303.

Moors, habits of the, 124; their reception in England, 135.

Morocco, introduction of the plague in 1826, 24; famine in, 164; decline of trade, 167; population, 167; advantages of a Commercial Convention, 168; ratification of the Treaty, 182; cattle-lifting, 193; punishment of, 194; proposed loan, 214; terms of the payment, 218; final settlement, 220; slavery in, 357.

—, Sultan of, 113, _see_ Mulai Abderahman.

Mujáhidin or ‘Warriors of the Faith,’ 185.

Mul Meshwa, or chief Usher, 71, 112.

Mulai Abdelmalek, 241.

Mulai Abderahman, Sultan of Morocco, 71, 72, 113, 144; receives Sir J. D. Hay, 113, 118, 180; appearance and dress, 114; harem, 119; his fondness for animals, 199, 202; death, 205.

Mulai Abderahman Ben Hisham, Sultan, 300.

Mulai Ahmed, 242, 300-303.

Mulai Ali, 129, 341.

Mulai Hashem, 129.

Mulai Hassan, Sultan of Morocco, accession, 307; reception of Sir J. D. Hay, 315, 330, 340; appearance, 315.

Mulai Ismael, 119.

Mulai Mohammed, Sultan of Fas, 241.

Mulai Sliman, 274.

Mulai Soliman, 110.

Mulai Yazid, tomb of, 110.

Mulud, feast of the, 316.

Murray, Mr. H., 68.

—, John, 4.

_Murray’s Magazine_, Sir J. D. Hay’s reminiscences, 367.

Napier, Admiral Sir Charles, 30, 145.

—, and Ettrick, Lord, 49, 73.

— of Magdala, Lord, 353.

Nares, Captain, 318.

Nelson, Lord, 235.

Nicolas, Commander, 218.

Nion, M. de, 68.

Norderling, Mrs., letters from Sir J. D. Hay on his reception from Sultan Mulai Hassan, 315; on the Sahara scheme, 317.

Ofran, 128.

Ordega, M., 345; recalled, 354.

Oriental phraseology, specimen of, 361.

Orléans, Duc de, at Tangier, 203; his letter to Sir J. D. Hay, 203.

Oscar, King of Sweden, 66.

Palmerston, Lady, 75.

—, Lord, 17, 20.

Peñon fortress, 144, 148.

Pisani, Etienne, 49.

—, Mr. Frederick, Chief Dragoman of the Embassy, 31, 49, 73.

Plague, the, in Egypt, 22, 24.

Ponsonby, Lady, 33, 42, 75.

—, Lord, 25, 30, 42; his address to the Sultan, 32; entertains Bosco at dinner, 33; charm of manner, 43; his policy, 44; reply to Admiral Lalande, 63; his letter to Sir J. D. Hay on his appointment in Morocco, 74.

Pontet, M., 44.

Poole, Stanley Lane, his ‘Life of Sir S. Canning,’ 73.

Porter, Commodore, 63.

—, Mr. George, 64.

Protection, system of, 322; Conference on, 323.

Rabát, 62, 217, 230.

Raeburn, 1.

Rahma, 247.

Ras-ed-Daura lake, 89.

Ras-el-Ain fountain, 129.

‘Ravensrock,’ Sir J. D. Hay’s summer residence, 224.

Reade, Mr., 207.

Reshid, Governor of Shawía, 171.

Reshid Pasha, 36.

Rif country, 144, 158; population, 158; inhabitants, 159.

Rifians, piracy of the, 144, 146; costume, 152; parley with Sir J. D. Hay, 153-157; industry, 159; courage, 160; morality, 160.

Robinson and Fleming, Messrs., 220.

Roche, M., 95.

Rosebery, Lord, 360.

Russell, Lord John, 205; his defence of Sir J. D. Hay, 207.

Sabbatyon river, 131.

Saffi port, 285, 292, 314.

Sahara scheme, 317.

Sahel or plain, 242.

Salamis, H.M.S., 340.

Salisbury, Lord, 322; his estimation of Sir J. D. Hay, 352.

Salli, 100; Governor of, 102.

San Stefano village, 64.

Sawle, Captain, 296, 298.

Scott, Sir Walter, 3.

‘Scraps from my Note-Book,’ 367, 396.

Sebastian, King of Portugal, 241.

Sebu river, 238.

Senya el Hashti, or Spring of Hashti, 223.

Serruya, Mr. J., 92.

Seville, 11, 225.

Sharf village, 193.

Sharf el Akab, 371.

Shashon, Sheikh, 243.

Shawía district, 104, 170.

Shebá, 368.

Shebenía, 378.

Shedma district, 122.

Shella, 99.

Sherarda, Governor of, 214.

Sheridan, 4.

Shirreff, Miss, her recollection of Sir J. D. Hay’s early home, 8.

Shloh tribe, 291; the women, 295, 299; hospitality, 295, 298.

Sicsu, Mr. David, the Interpreter, 88, 109, 131, 216.

Sid Abd-el-Malek, 78.

Sid Alarbi Mokta, 113.

Sid Bel-Abbas, tomb of, 110.

Sid Ben Yahia, 88.

Sid Buselham, 136.

Sid Buselham Ben Ali, 68.

Sid Dris Ben Yamáni, 275.

Sid Mogdul, 123.

Sid Mohammed, Sultan of Morocco, 79, 216; reception of Sir J. D. Hay, 216, 231, 237, 270; final interview, 276-282; his entry into Rabát, 230; method of quelling a rebellion, 233; death, 307.

Sid Mohammed Bargash, 321.

— — Ben Dris, 72; manner of his death, 72.

— — Khatíb, 180, 181.

Sid Musa, the Hajib, 272, 289.

Simpson, Dr., 90, 101, 103.

Slavery in Morocco, 357.

Smith, General, 30.

‘Snabi,’ 376.

Spain, question regarding Ceuta, 68; declares war with Morocco, 205; peace concluded in 1860, 213; claims indemnity, 214.

Spanish chapel, protection of, 208-211; ‘three-decker,’ model of a, 192.

Spartel, Cape, 192, 390.

St. Leger, 89, 112.

Stockholm, 66.

Stopford, Admiral Sir Robert, 62.

Stunmer, Baron, 36.

Suanni, 78, 148.

Suánnia, 105.

Suiera, 123.

Sus, 122, 291.

‘Sweet Waters,’ 39.

Symes, 2.

Tafilelt, 128.

‘Taherdats’ river, 368.

Taheret, 129.

Tait, Archbishop, 3.

Takulebat, 129.

Tama, history of the son of, 82.

Tamista plain, 242.

Tangier, 7; condition of, 68: arsenal, 192; bridge, 193; quarantine regulations, 325.

Tápia, 99 _note_.

Taza, 289.

Telin, 128.

Tensift river, 106, 269, 292.

Tetuan, 144, 180.

Thackeray, 4.

Thala, 128.

Thomson, Captain J., 5; his ‘Etymons of the English Language,’ 5.

_Times_, leader in the, 346; extract from, 351.

Tissot, M., 288; letters to Sir J. D. Hay, 336.

Torras, 355, 360.

Torribat, 129.

Trafalgar, battle of, 192.

Tres Forcas, Cape, 144.

Tsemsalla village, 243.

Turkey, the Sultan of, receives Lord Ponsonby and suite, 31; interview with Lady Londonderry, 37.

Uhara, 86.

Ujda, 69.

Uríka, 289, 293.

Urquhart, Mr., 99.

Vaden, 127, 128.

Vakka, 128.

Valenciennes, 1.

Veneno, 13; kills José Maria, 15.

Vesuvius, H.M.S., 180.

Villiers, 360.

Vismes et de Ponthieu, Prince de, 5.

Wad el Halk river, 192.

Wad Nefis, 67.

Wadan, 127.

Wadnun, 317.

Wales, Prince of, 318; his visit to Tangier, 203.

‘Washington, Mount,’ 207.

Wazan, Sheríf of, 345.

Weber, 356.

Wedderburn Castle, death of Sir J. D. Hay at, 397.

‘Western Barbary,’ 17, 86 _note_, 177.

Winton, Major de, 296.

Yaden, 127.

Zacchian, 129.

Zarhon district, 160.

Zarhoni, Ben Taieb and Ben Nasr, dialogue between, 81.

Zebdi, Governor, 93.

Zerhóna, the, 214.

Zinat Kar Mountain, 292, 296.

Zinats village, 196, 228.

Zouche, Lord, 49; his defence of Sir J. D. Hay, 351.

THE END.

OXFORD: HORACE HART PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Henry Cockburn, one of the Senators of the College of Justice, and a leading member of the literary and political society in Edinburgh of that day.]

[Footnote 2: Mrs. Grey.]

[Footnote 3: Mrs. Norderling.]

[Footnote 4: It was thought improper to speak about any woman to the Sultan.]

[Footnote 5: Sultan Mulai Abderahman was renowned for his extraordinary strength.]

[Footnote 6: _Life of Stratford Canning_, by Stanley Lane-Poole, vol. ii. p. 116.]

[Footnote 7: His uniform.]

[Footnote 8: A species of shad.]

[Footnote 9: See description of Shemis in Hay’s _Western Barbary_. According to Tissot, in his _Itinéraire de Tanger à Rabat_, 1876, scarcely a trace of these ruins remains.]

[Footnote 10: According to Mr. J. Ball the ‘Elaeoselinum (Laserpitium) humile.’]

[Footnote 11: Tápia is a kind of cement formed of lime, mixed with small stones, beaten down in blocks by means of large wooden cases. The Moorish castle at Gibraltar is built with tápia, and still looks as solid as if new.—J. H. D. H.]

[Footnote 12: The Sultan Assuad referred to was the seventh of his dynasty. He was buried at Shella, where his tomb bears an inscription, of which the following translation has been kindly supplied by J. Frost, Esq., British Vice-Consul at Rabát:—‘This is the tomb of our Master the Sultan, the Khalifah, the Imam, the Commander of the Muslims and Defender of the Faith, the Champion in the path of the Lord of the worlds, Abulhasan, son of our Master the Sultan, the Khalifah, the Imam, &c., &c. Abu Said, son of our Master the Sultan, the Khalifah, the Imam, &c., &c., Abu Yusuf Ya’kub, son of ’Abd al-Hakk, may God sanctify his spirit and illumine his sepulchre. He died (may God be pleased with him and make him contented) in the mountain of Hintatah in the night of (i.e. preceding) Tuesday, the 27th of the blessed month of Rabi ’al-Awwal, in the year 752, and was buried in the Kiblah of the Great Mosque of Al-Mansor, in Marakesh (may God fill it with His praise). He was afterwards transferred to this blessed and sainted tomb in Shella. May God receive him into His mercy and make him dwell in His paradise. God bless our Prophet Mahammad and his descendants.’]

[Footnote 13: Zizyphus lotus.]

[Footnote 14: Elaeodendron argan.]

[Footnote 15: 2 Kings xviii. 9.]

[Footnote 16: Dra.]

[Footnote 17: Akka.]

[Footnote 18: ? Flirgh.]

[Footnote 19: An orange dye.]

[Footnote 20: The White Fast.]

[Footnote 21: Tiseret.]

[Footnote 22: The French Representative.]

[Footnote 23: In consequence of the immunity he had claimed under protection of the horse.]

[Footnote 24: The population of Morocco have never accepted, like other Mohammedans, the Sultan of Turkey—who is not a descendant of the Prophet—as ‘Kaliph Allah.’]

[Footnote 25: No attempt was made to land troops, neither was a gun fired.]

[Footnote 26: Afterwards General Buceta, a very distinguished officer.]

[Footnote 27: Written in 1887.]

[Footnote 28: ‘Cedrus atlantica.’]

[Footnote 29: Term generally applied to Europeans.]

[Footnote 30: Term used for horses of great speed, fed on dates.]

[Footnote 31: The torture of the wooden jelab is only resorted to in extreme cases to extort a confession about wealth supposed to be hidden. The instrument of torture is made of wood, and resembles the outer hooded garment of a Franciscan friar. It is placed upright, and the victim is squeezed into it in a standing position; points of iron project in various parts preventing the inmate from reclining or resting any part of his body without great suffering. There he is left upon bread and water, to pass days and nights, until he divulges where his wealth is hidden.]

[Footnote 32: Mohammedans believe that dates of all deaths are written in a book by Allah.]

[Footnote 33: Fatmeh is dead. He was a spendthrift, and the bags of gold were soon squandered in dissipation.]

[Footnote 34: There are no remains of houses or other buildings within the solid walls which were erected on the north and west side of this small arsenal. There are two wide gates adjoining each other through which the galleys were hauled up and placed in safety. The gateways are of beautiful solid brick masonry; the north wall is of stone; on the south-eastern side high ground rises from this enclosure. On the top of the hill there are the remains of a rude ‘Campus Aestivus.’ About a mile up the river are the ruins of a Roman bridge leading to Tangier, the Tingis of the Romans; the chief arch of this interesting monument fell in 1880. The date of the arsenal and bridge is, I believe, the year 1 A.D.]

[Footnote 35: About twenty miles from Trafalgar.]

[Footnote 36: House of succour.]

[Footnote 37: Readers may be shocked that such barbarities are practised by the Moors; but they are a thousand years behind the civilised world, and surprise can hardly be felt when we remember that a sentence of mutilation was carried out in England little more than 300 years ago. Camden’s _Annals_ for the year 1581 contain an account of the mutilation of one Stubbs, for publishing an attack upon Queen Elizabeth’s proposed marriage with the Duke of Alençon. The historian was an eyewitness of the scene, which has been utilised by Sir Walter Scott in the _Fortunes of Nigel_, chap. xiii.]

[Footnote 38: A Moorish beehive is made from the bark of the cork-tree. In the summer months, when the sap rises, a vertical incision about four feet long is made through the cork to the inner bark, and the part to be removed, having been cut above and below, is hammered with a heavy mallet. The cork is separated from the stem of the tree, and being elastic, is taken off entire. Two circular pieces of cork are inserted in the orifices at each end and fastened with wooden pegs. The bees close with wax the cracks which may appear. The hive is warm, and keeps out both wet and sun.]

[Footnote 39: Mr. Reade was Consul, Mr. Green Private Secretary. The latter, as Sir William Kirby Green, succeeded Sir John Hay as Minister to the Court of Morocco in 1886.]

[Footnote 40: Jebel Kebír, now known as ‘The Hill.’]

[Footnote 41: These were troops from the seat of war not yet disbanded. The Sultan evidently desired to impress Mr. Hay with the strength of his army.]

[Footnote 42: The duties on the export of wheat and barley were never added to those noted above, in spite of Sir John’s constant and unceasing endeavours.]

[Footnote 43: In allusion to the manner in which, in ancient times, Jews and Christians in Morocco were put to death. The victims were suspended by large iron hooks through the flesh of their backs; one of these hooks was still to be seen on a gate of the city of Marákesh in 1846; or a spit was run through their bodies, and they remained transfixed till death put an end to their tortures.]

[Footnote 44: The late Sultan Sid Mohammed, the descendant of Sultan Mulai Ahmed, was a good mathematician, and also very clever as a mechanist. He mended and cleaned his own watches. When I presented H.M. with a breech-loading gun, and at his request took it and the lock to pieces, I bungled in putting them together. H.M., taking the gun from me, at once re-adjusted it.—J. H. D. H.]

[Footnote 45: On the site now occupied by the chief mosque.]

[Footnote 46: Pauper, or holy man.]

[Footnote 47: A delicate paste, partaking of the nature of Italian paste, but round in form, the best being no larger than dust shot.]

[Footnote 48: Ovis musimon.]

[Footnote 49: Cedrus Atlantica and Callitris quadrivalvis.]

[Footnote 50: Yet, according to Marmol, it may be inferred that by this pass the ‘Almoravides’ entered Western Barbary from Numidia.]

[Footnote 51: On this, as on all his other Missions, the members of Sir John Hay’s family and his ‘private friends’ were his _personal_ guests, the ‘officials’ travelled at the expense of Government.]

[Footnote 52: Sultan Mulai Hassan.]

[Footnote 53: A white but much sunburnt Moorish servant of Sir J. H. D. H.]

[Footnote 54: Though this permission was then granted, the laying of the cable was delayed until 1886-87.]

[Footnote 55: His son, then Consul at Mogador.]

[Footnote 56: The ‘arum arisarum,’ called ‘yerna’ by the Moors, is used by the inhabitants of Western Barbary as an article of food in times of great scarcity, though it is held by them to be poisonous without careful preparation. The tubers when collected are cut up in small pieces, which they wash in many waters and then steam, as they do their ‘siksu,’ after which they pound them into meal, of which they make cakes, mixed if possible with a little ‘dra’ (millet) meal. They also make this arum meal into a kind of porridge. This food appears to contain few nourishing qualities, and those who are reduced to live on it suffer much in health.]

[Footnote 57: _Journal of Society for Psychical Research_, March, 1891, p. 40.]

[Footnote 58: Mashallah.]

[Footnote 59: The loan referred to was that raised in England in 1862 to enable the Sultan to pay the Spanish war indemnity. See

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