letter from Mensieur Blane gained for us an exceptional guide in the person of Monsieur Delarue, one of the senior officials and a most charming, intelligent man with a fine command of the Arab tongue. He loved the country, the people and their way of life, knew apparently everything and everybody in the town and was a great favorite with the natives. He impressed me as the finest type of colonial official.
Our new friend began by conducting us to the roof of the palace in which his office was located to show us the sea of flat roofs and terraces with their crowds of women, the minarets, the squares, the great sweep of the forest of palms and, towering above us to the south, the ranges of the Atlas. Just at our feet was the place, Jemaa el-Fna, encircled by the French buildings and native shops. It made a bright and thrilling picture with its white-clad Berber men and women, nomads from the Sahara in their dark-blue bournouscs, donkeys laden with their panniers of gaudy tomatoes, cream-colored grapes, purple figs, yellow lemons, reddish oranges and mottled pomegranates, turbaned riders trying to quiet their chafing mounts, black slaves and camels. This eddy of men and beasts, this mass of colors and tints held our attention riveted on Jemaa el-Fna for some little time.
We learned that a market holds sway here in the morning hours, attracting the Berbers from the mountains with their products and animals, while after the noonday rest the square takes on the character of a place of public entertainment, of the city's club. The afternoon crowd is as large as that of the morning but much less mobile, separating and holding itself in numerous groups, sur-
