All of these suks lead toward the center of Fez el-Bali, where a barrier encloses the Medina, or the sacred heart of Fez, and where a zaouia, or chapel, as large as an ordinary mosque, stands as a consecrated memorial to the great Sultan of Fez, Mulay Idris, whose ashes repose there in the very midst of the town which he built and raised to the position of power, wealth and splendor. The wooden barrier, or fence, stands as the strong line of separation between the busy suks where the heathen god, Mercury, rules and the sacred precincts of the Moslem shrine. Although only the Faithful could previously enter the consecrated place, we unbelievers are now also allowed to visit it, though we are compelled to bend and pass under this fence that protects it as a guarding screen. Is this, perhaps, not a symbol thought of by Islam to make us show outward respect to Allah and the Prophet?
As we bowed and entered, we found ourselves in quite another world with other men, other thoughts and another atmosphere. Even the hum and bustle of the suks strikes no echo here. Yet the quarter was far from empty, as all its streets were crowded, but with a quiet, flowing, stream of pilgrims coming from near and distant towns and villages to this most revered religious center of all Morocco; with beggars and sick folk, seeking relief; with processions of various religious fraternities, chanting and carrying their banners aloft; with sellers of colored candles, oil and incense and with the conglomerate mixture of religious enthusiasts, Imams and even Marabouts, who were easily identified by the homage paid them by those of the Faithful who kissed their hands and raised the hem of their bournouses to their lips, to
