men stood by him, behaved towards them much as an Arab chief would at the present day. He ran to meet them from the tentdoor, and bowed himself toward the ground, and said, 'My lord, if now I have found favour in thy sight, pass not away, I pray thee, from thy servant.'

Hospitality is, as we have said, a necessity in the desert. In the Tell and the Sahara it is, so to speak, the very tent-pole of Arab life. The religious nobility, the warrior nobility, the marabout and the djouad, the rich and the poor, the shepherd and the agriculturist, all put it equally in practice. The angels, Arabs say, do not frequent the houses of those who entertain not strangers. The best pilgrimage also, and that from which the best fruit is to be expected, consists in entertaining strangers.

Strange to us, but very monotonous, is the life of the Arab douar, to which the traveller bends his steps to pass the night. The time of its greatest movement, however, is the hour of sunrise, when the great crimson crest of the sun starts above the desert horizon; for then all the inmates of the douar awake to life. The Arab possesses no feather-beds, no spring-mattresses; a carpet on the sand forms all his bedding. Moreover, were he a lingerer in his tent in the morning, the finger of scorn would soon be pointed at him- -for prayer and ablutions, by the law of Mohammed, have to be got through at this hour; not to say that the morning air in the desert is considered the purest and healthiest of the day. No sooner, then, has the sun just lifted the edge of his fiery disk above the horizon, and the last stars faded out of the sky, than the programme of the Arab day begins. A light mist runs curling low over the convolutions of the sand. The watch-dogs, tired-out of baying at the moon, stalk round the tents; the horses, tethered close at hand, stretch their necks around with loving expectant eye, awaiting the caresses of the women and children; the flocks bleat, and prepare to travel to the place of pasture; and the camels bellow loudly in concert as the Arabs emerge one by one from the tents.

Each Arab casts an eye over his horses, his camels, and his sheep, to see that nothing has been stolen during the night; and then they all go, each to salute his immediate chief, his lord and master' (sidna ou moulna), who awaits his clients seated in Oriental gravity on the ground. He greets his tribesmen one by one, and then proceeds to adjudicate on all their differences, with the assistance of the kadi, learned in the quips and quibbles of Mohammedan law. Complaints, replies, oaths, and counter-oaths begin to abound. 'O, my lord, the part of God!' says sometimes a young wife whom her husband has neglected. Yes, my daughter, the religion of women is love. We will give a delay to thy husband; and if he does not conduct himself better in future, the law will grant thee a divorce.'

6

O, my lord, Yuseph, the son of Mohammed, refuses to give me back the sowing-seed which I lent him.'

'O, my lord, Ahmed - ben - Salem will not give me back the horse which I lent him, and which has died by his fault on a long journey.''Accused,' says the chief, 'what have you to

reply ?'

In such disputes the Arab chief not rarely displays a sagacity, acuteness, and gravity well suiting his judicial character, and he well remembers the adage, 'Patience is the key of success' (Es seberr meftahh le feredj).

It is rarely, of course, at such an hour that the traveller comes to the Arab tent for hospitality. It is usually hours after mid-day, when the tents have long been sweltering in the fierce heat of sand and sun, that he makes his appearance, and directs his steps to the first habitation of the douar. When he has arrived within about thirty steps of the tent, he cries aloud, O master of the tent' (Ya moul el kheima)! a guest from God' (Dif Rebbi).

This is the invitation he gives himself; and for reply the master of the tent comes out and salutes him, saying, 'Be welcome; all will be easy' (Marhaba bik; Koulchi sahel aalik).

It must be understood, however, that the Arab rarely takes the stranger to the tent in which he dwells with his wife. With the Arab's susceptibility about women, this is avoided as much as possible; although even in his own tent the wife is always in her own compartment, concealed by a curtain. Some one then advances. from the douar, and leads the stranger to a tent, which the owner keeps prepared for travellers-the beit-ed dyaf, the house of the guests. The stranger's stirrup is held for him to descend from horseback, and the Arabs say to him, 'My lord, enter into thy house' (Ya sidi, edkhol fi darek).

As soon as the traveller has gone in, preparatory refreshments are served before him, bread, milk, figs, dried raisins, dates, and coffee, sufficient to stay his hunger till dinner is served.

The horse of the guest is as well cared for as himself, he need not look after him; he will be tethered for him in front of his own tent. One of the chief points of Arab hospitality is to take care of the steed of the stranger. The Arab's horse is a pleasure to the master, and his host will take care the Later in the evening, the noble creature will have water brought to him, and straw and barley, and a warm wrapper to preserve him from the cold of the night; he will be treated with all the more care since he is the steed of the guest-of the guest from God.

eye and to the heart of the two are in close company.

The supper of the guest, that too will be served at last. The master of the tent, who has himself been looking after everything, takes the first dish that is brought and places it himself on the table

in front of his principal guest, and will say sometimes, if he will do him especial honour, Eat, eat, O my friend! this repast has been prepared by the very hands of the mistress of the house.'

What are the viands thus set before the stranger in the tent? In the days of olden simplicity, a plate of boiled or roast meat eaten with salt sufficed for the Arab; but he has now invented for himself a cuisine, which proves indeed that he is capable of progress in the way of eating at all events.

The basis of the Arab menu is, and has been for centuries, the cousscoussou, also called in different countries taam and messeefouf. The cousscoussou is made of wheaten flour, which has been ground in portable handmills by the women of the camp, and then passed through a sieve, rolled with the fingers, cooked by steam, and finally sprinkled copiously either with broth or with milk. The richer Arabs add to this preparation mutton, fowl, hard eggs, beans, with artichokes, sugar, dried grapes, and sometimes, when near the coast, potatoes which they purchase from the Christians. This is, as we have said, the national dish, perfectly suited to the climate and the habits of the people. Rich and poor equally delight in it, and they are never tired of it from one end of the year to the other. It must be well-cooked, and it is never eaten cold.

The staple food, however, of the poorest Arabs is the dchicha— roasted corn-which they pound and then boil with butter; or it may even consist of roasted barley or beans which they pound also, and then wet with water, and they carry sometimes a supply of it in the corner of their bernous.

In the way of such preparations of meal, the Arab also has the mermez. The mermez is made of unripe ears of barley, lightly roasted, and pounded in the handmill. These are then moistened with water or milk, and mixed with salt meat and butter. And there is also another compound called the cherchem, made of corn boiled in salt-and-water, with which they provide themselves when on expeditions in countries devoid of resources; and by the aid of which they find they can the most easily dispense with all other kinds of food.

The richer Arabs have, however, excellent bread, while the poorer folk content themselves with flat cakes of meal cooked hastily in earthenware dishes. Bread of new barley is a luxury for every Arab. For condiment the Arab not only has salt, but he makes abundant use of black and red pepper, of which the quantity he eats is enormous. It is the great delight and joy of the poor Arab: it replaces wine as a tonic; and when an Arab of the poorer sort leaves his tent to go to market to purchase provisions for his family, his wife winds-up her list of commissions by crying after him, ' And don't forget the pepper' (Ou ma tennsach el felfel).

The butter of the Arabs from being cured in goatskins acquires a rancid flavour; which, however, as is the case in other parts of

the world, becomes preferable to that of fresh butter, by acquired taste. The Arabs, too, are passionately fond of all sorts of preparations of milk, and especially of curds-and-whey; they rarely drink the pure milk of the cow, and indeed esteem it injurious. Of goat's-milk and ewe's-milk they consume a great deal in different fashions. But of all sorts of milk the most prized is that of the camel, which they give even to their horses, esteeming it better for them than barley; and believing that for horse and man alike it is the most strengthening of all kinds of diet.

Such is the broad and simple basis of an Arab's meal; to which may be added, in the case of richer folk, roasted mutton (el kebch mechoui), or roasted fowl, partridge, &c. And Arabs are pronounced by General Daumas to be the first rôtisseurs in the world. There may be also the kibab, consisting of pieces of mutton roasted on a skewer; or the terbiya, a stew of mutton, with eggs and tomatoes; el hhamiss, another kind of mutton-stew; el mekhetter, a fricassee of fowl, with garbanzos; the dolma, a dish of meat stuffed with vegetables, and seasoned highly with Cayenne pepper; or there may be el beraniya, one of the triumphs of the Arab cuisine-a breast-ofmutton cut-up in pieces and arranged with butter, eggs, wild-artichokes, grated cheese, and spices; el kabama, a stew of mutton again, to which parsley and onions give the prevailing flavour.

Leaving unnoticed other dishes which form the pièces de résistance of an Arab dinner, it may be mentioned that soups also are not wanting to the hospitality of a rich Arab. Nor is the Arab pastry-cook altogether contemptible in the way of cakes and sweetmeats the crowning glory of his workmanship is said to consist in the sebaa el aaroussa-the 'finger of the bride;' a sweetmeat most in renown at Bagdad, but which is said to be unknown in Algeria.

The Arabs, moreover, eat fruit in abundance, and generally not quite ripe. Grapes are the most prized of fruit; then come melons, cucumbers, figs, oranges, lemons, pomegranates, apples, pears, cherries, peaches, apricots, dates. Dates ought to be eaten either with the cousscoussou or with milk, otherwise they are not wholesome.

All account of Arab gastronomy would be incomplete without notice of the locust, which is the prawn of the desert; but which must be taken alive and killed by Mussulmans to be fit to be eaten by Mussulmans. They are stripped of their heads, their wings, and their claws, and then roasted or boiled with the cousscoussou. Horses are very fond of them, and for horse and man they are considered nourishing food.

Coffee is a luxury for the rich alone; the great mass of the Arabs never taste coffee. It is served with the grounds and with the foam of ebullition on the surface; and those who have become habituated to the Eastern way of preparing coffee return to the coffee of Europe with some disappointment.

Of such viands will the meal of the guest of the Arab tent be composed. Women, as is well known, never appear before strangers; indeed the latter, if he knows the rules of Arab etiquette, will never even talk of women to his host; and this not only out of regard to the host himself, but because the wife may very probably be on the other side of the curtain which separates the man's compartment from the woman's in every tent, and when jealousy would infallibly be excited by stories of too lively a nature about Ayesha or Nedjema. Yes, the Arab's wife is in all probability there behind the curtain, curiously watching the stranger and his habits, after having superintended the preparation of his meal. French officers, who have partaken of the hospitality of Arab tents, have in fact sometimes heard something very like a titter going on behind the curtain, which was supposed to be caused by the clumsiness with which they sat down to supper. For it is not easy for a European in tight pantaloons, and with straps, to assume the seat on the carpet in Oriental fashion without making a rather ridiculous figure in the course of his descent to the ground, as General Daumas found on one occasion when invited to dine by a powerful marabout- -Sidi Mohammed benn Haoua. But the difficulty of tight pantaloons and straps was not the only one experienced by General Daumas; at the moment of sitting down, he perceived that at the dinner to which he was invited, there were no seats, no bottles, and no glasses. not even a plate or a knife or a spoon. There was no apparatus for dining at all; for the whole race of cutlers and manufacturers of crockery and glass-ware would infallibly have to take to another line of business, if the world were to adopt Arab habits.

The dining-table, or rather dining-carpet of leather, the sefra, was laid in the middle of the tent on the ground, and there was nothing whatever thereon, when the guests squatted down on all sides of it, like tailors about to go to work. How was the French general, after having surmounted the difficulty of pantaloons and straps, to eat his dinner? He hit at last upon the plan of observing his neighbours, two venerable gentlemen with white beards, who could not refrain at times from exchanging an ironical smile, which the general interpreted thus: How will the Infidel get on here?'

The cousscoussou then made its appearance in a large wooden platter, and each of the guests plunged the finger and thumb of his right hand into the mess, made a little ball of it, and tossed it into his mouth. The general followed the example of his neighbours. After this dish roast mutton appeared-kebch mechoui-which was eaten with the fingers. At the end of the dinner-Arab etiquette requires that guests shall drink but once at the end of the dinnerwater and sour milk were passed round in wooden and earthen bowls, and then a water-vessel and black soap were presented for all to wash their hands.