cannot make the customary ablutions before prayer. Instead they rub their bodies with these stones.
As we left the mosque, accompanied by the warden and his whole family, we met the curate, a young, stout mullah with a pale, thoughtful face, pensive eyes and a raven-black beard, tie made the sign of the salaam and passed on in silence. He was, as we were told by the warden, very learned and was even respected in Fez as a deep theologian and Marabout.
And so in kingly Tlemsen, where at each step we came upon kubbas, mosques, magic trees and other holy places or things, we began our visit by a right and holy deed—a pilgrimage to the tomb of the local patron saint, Sidi Abu Median.
But a few kilometers separate Tlemsen from the unkempt village of El-Eubbad, or Bu Medin. Still the road was long enough to carry us past several kubbas, one of which, our guide told us, is the tomb of the saintly Marabout, El-Tayar, who, when in life, never slept but spent all his time studying the Koran, and who after death received the appellation of "The Flying Saint," as he invariably appeared, when any one called upon his name, and helped the faithful son of Islam.
Near the cemetery, Mohamet ben M'Hammed pointed out to us a large tree, on the branches of which the pious hang modest offerings, consisting of seven small stones tied together on a string, bits of cloth or little tufts of woolen yarn, for the purpose of bringing health to their children. This offering tree reminded me strongly of what I saw in the mountains of Tannu-Ola, Nan-Sharf and Kinghan, where the followers of the Yellow Faith,
