THE SULTAN MULAI AL HASAN IN TANGIER
(Photographed by Molina)
WE PURCHASE MORE MOORISH CLOTHING
The city is unlike all other cities of the interior, for it was built by the Portuguese. It is not white, as are the Moorish cities, but all in dull greys, browns, and soiled and dingy yellows. In the bazaar we purchase more Moorish clothing—long white garments, far cooler than our riding-suits, and upon returning in our new attire to the camp, we are greeted effusively by a dusky gentleman who introduces himself as the Consular Agent of the United States. Unfortunately his kindly words are all Arabic, of which we do not understand a word. Nevertheless Mr. Hamman Slawi convinces us of his good-will by presenting us with a pair of yellow slippers, and manifests his admiration by sitting in our tent and looking at us intently for just two hours and a half. Long calls are the custom in Morocco, and when Mr. Slawi finally departed, he left his son, a fat little chap, to continue staring at us so that we might not feel neglected. And when the boy was finally induced to go, the father sent the local symphony orchestra to serenade us in the gloaming, with two insistent drums and an exasperating flute.
MR. HAMMAN SLAWI, U. S. CONSULAR AGENT
MR. HAMMAN SLAWI, U. S. CONSULAR AGENT