ion of abolition. There is no objection to the skin and features of
the negro; it is only the luxury of having slaves, or their usefulness
for heavy work, which weighs in the scale against abolition.

As soon as we landed, we visited the lieutenant-governor, who
congratulated us on not being carried down to the Canary Islands. Then
his Excellency asked, in due studied form:

"Where do you come from?"

_Traveller_.--"Gibraltar."

_His Excellency_.--"Where are you going?"

_Traveller_.--"To see the Sultan, Muley Abd Errahman."

_His Excellency_.--"What's your business?"

_Traveller_.--"I will let your Excellency know to-morrow."

I then proceeded to the house of Mr. Phillips, where I took up my
quarters. Mr. Willshire, our vice-consul, was absent, having gone up to
Morocco with all the principal merchants of Mogador, to pay a visit to
the Emperor.

The port of Mogador had to-day a most wild and desolate appearance,
which was rendered still more dreary and hideous by a dark tempest
sweeping over it. On the shore, there was no appearance of life, much
less of trade and shipping. All had abandoned it, save a guard, who lay
stretched at the gate of the waterport, like a grim watch-dog. From this
place, we proceeded to the merchants' quarter of the town, which was
solitary and immersed in profound gloom. Altogether, my first
impressions of Mogador were most unfavourable, I went to bed and dreamt
of winds and seas, and struggled with tempests the greater part of the
night. Then I was shipwrecked off the Canaries; thrown on the coast of
Wadnoun, and made a slave by the wild Arabs wandering in the Desert--I
awoke.

Mr. Phillips, mine host, soon became my right-hand man. His
extraordinary character, and the adventures of his life are worth a
brief notice. Phillips said he was descended from those York Jews, who,
on refusing to pay a contribution levied on them by one of our most
Christian kings, had a tooth drawn out every morning (without the aid of
chloroform), until they satisfied the cruel avarice of the tyrant. In
person, Phillips was a smart old gentleman, with the ordinary lineaments
of his race stamped on his countenance. The greater part of his life has
been spent in South America, where he attained the honours of
aide-de-camp to Bolivar. In those sanguinary revolutions, heaving with
the birth of the young republic, he had often been shut up in the
capilla to be shot, and was rescued always by the Jesuit fathe