dian bards, we are
expressly told that it is so with the Arab story-teller, and that it
accounts for much of the ribaldry and filth which have become embedded
in the immortal "Nights." A viol having only one string accompanies the
passages in verse with which the stories are interlarded; and a similar
instrument seems to be used for the like purpose among the orthodox
Guslars of Bosnia and Herzegovina.[10] A description given by Sir
Richard Burton of a story-teller at the bazaar at Tangier may stand,
except as to the external details, for that of an Arab reciter
throughout Northern Africa and the Moslem East. "The market people," he
says, "form a ring about the reciter, a stalwart man, affecting little
raiment besides a broad waist-belt into which his lower chiffons are
tucked, and noticeable only for his shock hair, wild eyes, broad grin,
and generally disreputable aspect. He usually handles a short stick;
and, when drummer and piper are absent, he carries a tiny tomtom shaped
like an hour-glass, upon which he taps the periods. This Scealuidhe, as
the Irish call him, opens the drama with an extempore prayer, proving
that he and the audience are good Moslems; he speaks slowly and with
emphasis, varying the diction with breaks of animation, abundant action
and the most comical grimace: he advances, retires, and wheels about,
illustrating every point with pantomime; and his features, voice and
gestures are so expressive that even Europeans who cannot understand a
word of Arabic, divine the meaning of his tale. The audience stands
breathless and motionless, surprising strangers by the ingenuousness and
freshness of feeling hidden under their hard and savage exterior. The
performance usually ends with the embryo actor going round for alms, and
flourishing in the air every silver bit, the usual honorarium being a
few _f'lus_, that marvellous money of Barbary, big coppers worth
one-twelfth of a penny." Another writer, who has published modern Arab
folk-tales, obtained eleven out of twelve from his cook, a man who could
neither read nor write, but possessed an excellent memory. His stories
were derived from his mother and aunts, and from old women who
frequented his early home. The remaining tale was dictated by a sheikh
with some, though small, pretensions to education, and this tale, though
at bottom a genuine folk-tale, presented traces of literary
manipulation.[11]

The literary touches here spoken of were probably not imp