their master. Behind the carriages well-dressed slaves and stable servants led seven saddled horses of different colors, one for each day of the week.
We had a close and leisurely view of this sultan of Morocco, Mulay Yusuf of the Alawite dynasty, who reigns under the protection of France and has made great progress in the direction of uniting his country with the general current of modern civilization. However, the anarchistic tendencies of the Berbers, occasional dynastic troubles, propaganda put out by some of the religious organizations under the direction and guidance of the Marabouts and, recently, the secret, destructive work of Soviet agents have often floated dark clouds up over the horizon of the sultan's life, clouds that have left their shadows upon the pale, full, rather wise-looking face of Mulay Yusuf with its many wrinkles and its eyes that tell of anxiety and longing.
Outside the gate the band struck up a loud march, the soldiers presented arms and then swung into line to conduct the sultan to the mosque of El-Sunna, that the master might take counsel of Allah and pray for the country, for happiness and for the glory of his reign.
On our way back to the hotel we drove through theFrench quarter, passing the picturesque palace of the Resident General, the administrative buildings and the lovely villas, whose gardens reached down to play with the sea, and feeling before all these a strange contrast of impressions as they mingled with the pink walls and old gates with their ancient inscriptions, the mysterious Hassan tower and the powerful square mass of the Udaya kasba, more especially as we still had before us the vivid
