mans remained silent, evidently fearful of incautious words. There is little doubt that many life-dramas have guided the steps of these men into the African corps, in proof of which it is only necessary to mention the German student whom we ran across at one of the railway stations and the brother of one of the reigning European kings whom we subsequently met—all of them marching side by side, with the same law and treatment for each, across the mountains and sands of this continent, working upon the roads and dying in the battles with the Berber tribes who refuse to acknowledge the Sultan of Morocco under the tutelage of France. But in this hard school of Legion service develop the virile and energetic characters of men of action, such as are today needed in the Europe that is weakening and slipping into sloughs of senility. When these men choose to take their diplomas from this unusual school of energy, they will carry back to their own countries real elements of revivifying force.
This evening we did not dine at the hotel, as the amiable Mahomet had invited us to an Arab supper in the home of one of his friends. He conducted us to a small house entirely surrounded by a high wall with only one entrance and located in the street where the Jewish quarter began. Once within the gate, we found ourselves in a restricted court, off which opened arched doorways, hung with light, colored curtains. Over these were the miniature balconies and small windows of the upper story, from which came whisperings and low laughter, though we saw no one.
Mahomet led us through one of the curtained doorways into a long, narrow, cool room, where we found
