scarcely be arrived at than by an attendance
or two at these sales. Twice in every month
—on each alternate Thursday—whole fleet-
loads of deadly narcotics, drastic aperients,
and nauseous tonics and febrifuge, are
disposed of as sheer matter of course. At each
of these auctions, as much castor-oil is sold
as would suffice to float a first-rate frigate.
In the course of about three hours, what
with drugs, dyes, and perfumery, fully fifty
thousand pounds worth of property is
disposed of, and that, too, of articles which
the world at large have no conception of,
save as distributed by chemists and others in
twopenny packets or sixpenny phials. Vast,
indeed, must be the amount of mortal suffering
and affluent luxury that can thus absorb,
week by week, these gigantic cargoes of physic
and fragrance. From east and west the
freighted ships arrive. Every nook and
corner, every mountain and desert place, is
scoured for contributions to our Pharmacopœia.
Let any new disease make its appearance
among us, and immediately the busy
hand of science is at work, and in some remote
corner of this wondrous world, some root, or
seed, or oozing gum, is found, to battle with
the newly-found enemy. Cost is of little
moment, so that the remedy be efficacious.
It was not very many months since "Koussa,"
a new and valuable vegetable medicine from
Abyssinia, was introduced; it was immedi-
ately bought up at a guinea an ounce, and
that price drew such abundant supplies to
this country, that the same article is now
selling at two shillings the ounce.

It may be truly observed that every nation
under the sun is busily occupied in collecting
products for our dispensaries and hospitals.
In China, Tartary, Egypt, America, in the
most southern isle of the South Pacific, on
the loftiest peak of the mighty Andes, in the
hottest deserts of Arabia or Africa, in the
most pestilential bunds of India, men are
toiling for the inmates of the sick-room, to aid
that high and holy art whose noble aim is to
win our bodies from the penalty of pain.

AMONG THE MOORS.

ARRIVED in Cadiz in 1847, after a ramble
through Spain, we felt an irresistible desire
to take a peep at Morocco. We strongly
desired to see what Mauritania's children
were like ; whether they had black or copper-
coloured faces ; whether they wore
turbans or caps, sandals or hose, mantles or
jerkins ; whether they resembled our play-
going recollections of Othello. Exactly at
ten o'clock one night late in October, this
desire pressed so strongly upon us that we
decided that existence could not be tolerated
an hour longer without an instant departure
for Morocco. The beautiful blue Mediterranean
was scarcely rippled by a wave ; the moon
shed a glorious light over its glassy surface,
while its bed seemed formed of the myriads
of stars which the deep still waters reflected.
A lazy felucca lay motionless on the shore;
and, in her, a lazy boatman was stretched
at full length. We questioned him as to
the practicability of our instant embarkation
for Morocco. He turned up his head, eyed
us inquisitively, as if to satisfy himself how
mad we were, told us to "Go with God,"
coiled himself up and disposed his limbs
in that posture of utter uncompromising
idleness, of which only the limbs of Spanish
boatmen and Italian lazzaroni are capable.
The master of a sailing-vessel had, however,
more confidence in our sanity and in his own
barque, and we struck a bargain with him.

The terms of this treaty were strictly
fulfilled; for, aided by a light fresh breeze, which
sprung up soon after we had embarked, we
dashed into the pretty bay of Tangiers early on
the following morning. Our colours were soon
hoisted; and, in obedience to conventional
laws, a messenger was despatched to ask
permission for us to land. Meanwhile, we
lay there at anchor under a heavy fire of
telescopes. Although sailing under the
Spanish flag, our English faces were soon
recognised, and the British consul politely
came out in a small boat to receive and to
conduct us on shore. Landing in these parts
is a sort of national amusement, in which
lookers-on take especial delight. It is a
practical joke, performed by a party of Moors,
who play with every gentleman who desires
to land, a game of pickaback through the
shallow water of the shore. Ladies are
carried, more solemnly, in chairs upon a
pair of swarthy Moslem shoulders. The
Moors are a handsome race of men; not
nearly so black as the Othello of the stage, not
generally tall, but the turban and hiack add
greatly to their apparent height. They
also make the most of themselves by an
upright and dignified carriage. Their black
eyes are full of fire and intelligence. Their
bronze complexions and long swarthy beards
contrast strongly with their snow-white
costume.

The circumstance of arriving on a Sunday
was favourable to our first impression of a
Moorish town. English, French, Spanish,
and American flags were gaily floating from
various buildings, with the colours of all
nations who are civilised enough to afford a
Tangerene consulate. The natives did their
part to make the appearance of things cheerful;
for it happened to be market-day, and the
market-place presented a busy and sparkling
picture. Moors gravely discussing matters of
commerce, and totally indifferent to the
appearance of foreigners: Arabs displaying their
rich merchandise to the best advantage: Jews
scrutinising some curious relique on which
they were asked to lend money, (the rate of
interest paid for cash so advanced is three-
pence per month on the dollar): women,
sheeted up in their hiacks, with only one eye
visible, hurrying through the crowd, neither