Mrs. Willshire's father. The ignorant country people coming to Mogador
stopped to repeat prayers before it, believing it the tomb of some
favourite saint. The government, hearing of this idolatry to a
Christian, begged Mr. Willshire to have the tomb covered with cement.
When this was done, so perverse are these people, that they partially
divested it of covering, and chipped off pieces of marble for their
women, who ground them into powder, and dusted their faces with it to
make them fair. Every six months it is necessary to replaster the tomb.
This cemetery is the most desolate place the mind of man can conceive.
There is no green turf here to rest lightly on the bosom of the dead! No
tree, no cypress of mourning; no shade or shelter for those who seek to
indulge in grief. All is a sandy desolation, swept by the wild winds of
the solitary shore of the ocean.

[Illustration]

Farther on, is the Moorish cemetery, which I passed through. What a
spectacle of human corruption! Here, indeed, we may learn to despise
this world's poor renown, and cease tormenting ourselves with vain and
godless pursuits. It was then sunset, the moon had risen far up on the
fading brow of the departing day, casting pale lights and fearful
shadows over this house of the dead. It was time to return, or the gates
of the city would shut me out amidst the wreck of poor human dust and
bones. I saw, moving in the doubtful shadows of approaching night, the
grave-digging hyaena!

It is an ill wind that blows nobody good. The wreckers of this coast
boldly assert that a shipwreck is a blessing (_berkah_), sent to them by
Providence. The port authorities have even the impudence to declare,
that to erect lighthouses at the mouth of the ports would be thwarting
the decrees of Divine Providence! In spite of all this, however, at the
urgent request of Mr. Willshire, when, on one occasion, the weather was
very bad, the governor of Mogador stationed guards on various parts of
the coast to preserve the lives and property of shipwrecked vessels. But
I do not think I have heard worse cases of Moorish wreckers, than those
which have happened not very many years ago on the French and English
coasts. Some of my readers will recollect the case of an Indiaman
wrecked off the coast of France, when poor ladies in a state of
suspended animation, had their fingers cut off to get possession of
their diamond-rings. During my stay at Mogador, a courier arrived from
Sous, br