e natives
would be prompt to resent the visit of a stranger who did not come to them
with the authority of a kaid or governor whose power and will to punish
promptly were indisputable. With no little regret I turned, when we had
been half an hour on the road, for a last look at Ibn Tachfin's city.
Distance had already given it the indefinite attraction that comes when
the traveller sees some city of old time in a light that suggests every
charm and defines none. I realised that I had never entered an Eastern
city with greater pleasure, or left one with more sincere regret, and that
if time and circumstance had been my servants I would not have been so
soon upon the road.

The road from Marrakesh to Mogador is as pleasant as traveller could wish,
lying for a great part of the way through fertile land, but it is seldom
followed, because of the two unbridged rivers N'fiss and Sheshoua. If
either is in flood (and both are fed by the melting snows from the Atlas
Mountains), you must camp on the banks for days together, until it shall
please Allah to abate the waters. Our lucky star was in the ascendant; we
reached Wad N'fiss at eleven o'clock to find its waters low and clear. On
the far side of the banks we stayed to lunch by the border of a thick belt
of sedge and bulrushes, a marshy place stretching over two or three acres,
and glowing with the rich colour that comes to southern lands in April and
in May. It recalled to me the passage in one of the stately choruses of
Mr. Swinburne's _Atalanta in Calydon_, that tells how "blossom by blossom
the spring begins."

The intoxication that lies in colour and sound has ever had more
fascination for me than the finest wine could bring: the colour of the
vintage is more pleasing than the taste of the grape. In this forgotten
corner the eye and ear were assailed and must needs surrender. Many tiny
birds of the warbler family sang among the reeds, where I set up what I
took to be a Numidian crane, and, just beyond the river growths, some
splendid oleanders gave an effective splash of scarlet to the surrounding
greens and greys. In the waters of the marsh the bullfrogs kept up a loud
sustained croak, as though they were True Believers disturbed by the
presence of the Infidels. The N'fiss is a fascinating river from every
point of view. Though comparatively small, few Europeans have reached the
source, and it passes through parts of the country where a white man's
presence would be res