ttended with flags and music, and some
hundred individuals all dressed in their holiday clothes. The white
flag, typical of the sanctity of religion, floated over others of
scarlet and green; the music was of squeaking bagpipes, and rude
tumtums, struck like minute drums. The greater part were on horseback,
the governor being most conspicuous. This troop of individuals ascended
a small hill of the market-place, where they remained half an hour in
solemn prayer.

No Jew or Christian was allowed to approach the magic or sacred circle
which enclosed them. This being concluded, down ran a butcher with a
sheep on his back; just slaughtered, and bleeding profusely. A troop of
boys followed quickly at his heels pelting him with stones. The butcher
ran through the town to the seashore, and thence to the house of the
Kady--the boys still in hot and breathless pursuit, hard after him,
pelting him and the bleeding sheep. The Moors believe, if the man can
arrive at the house of the judge before the sheep dies, that the people
of Tangier will have good luck; but, if the sheep should be quite dead,
and not moving a muscle, then it will bring them bad luck, and the
Christians are likely to come and take away their country from them. The
drollest part of the ceremony is, that the boys should scamper after the
butcher, pelting the sheep, and trying to kill it outright, thus
endeavouring to bring ill-luck upon their city and themselves. But how
many of us really and knowingly seek our misfortunes? On the occasion of
this annual feast, every Moor, or head of a family, kills a sheep. The
rich give to the poor, but the poor usually save up their earnings to be
able to purchase a sheep to kill on this day. The streets are in
different parts covered with blood, making them look like so many
slaughter grounds. When the bashaw of the province is in Tangier,
thousands of the neighbouring Arabs come to pay him their respects. With
the Moors, the festivals of religion are bona fide festivals. It may
also be added, as characteristic of these North African barbarians,
that, whilst many a poor person in our merry Christian England does not,
and cannot, get his plum-pudding and roast-beef at Christmas, there is
not a poor man or even a slave, in Morocco who does not eat his lamb on
this great feast of the Mussulmans. It would be a mortal sin for a rich
man to refuse a poor man a mouthful of his lamb.

Of course there was a sensation among the native