trees, centennial elms, sandarico and plane-trees to form a veritable jungle, covered over and interlaced with Virginia creepers, hops and other vines, all ablaze with purple and pink blossoms. Narrow paths, lovely corridors of sifted green light, ran out in various directions through the thicket, that swarmed with wild pigeons, thrushes, starlings and other singing birds. The carriage stopped suddenly before a native building with an open verandah that was carpeted with clean mats.
"You would like, perhaps, to take a cup of Moorish coffee," suggested Mahomet. "It will not come amiss, as we shall be late in returning to town."
In a moment we were taking our places on the clay floor, which had been covered for us by a Kairwan carpet, brought out from the owner's rooms. Under the verandah there was also a group of Arabs, talking together in low, serious tones. As we watched, they became silent and bent their heads, when one of their number, a fine-looking old man with a long beard, began to speak. Mahomet whispered to me:
"He is a Marabout, a great scholar and miracle-worker, and is deeply respected here."
In the meantime the owner of the coffee-house had placed before us a round copper tray, carrying small china cups and individual copper pots with long, wooden handles. For each cup the coffee is separately prepared in these copper receptacles on a special stove over coals as red as those in a smithy forge. As we poured and tasted the brew, we found it to be strong, aromatic and sweet, thick with finely pulverized dregs, really more
