Evening star., 1925-07-26
By PAUL SCOTT MOwRER.

~ RoSPEROUS Moors eat well,
l. but they do not eat as
Westerners eat and every
l. visitor to Morocco is eager for
the somewhat rare honor of
being invited to a meal in the house of
a Moor of distinction. 1t was with
ill-dissimulated alacrity, therefore that
1 accepted the invitation Of the Sheriff
Al Ben Hassein to take luncheon
with him.
The old man lives in a steep, mar
row, winding way in the middle of the
labyrinth of FeZ. The scrofulous
white walls that face upon the street
betray no hint of the elegance and
comfort inside. Once beyond the
great nail-studded door, one is in a
different world. A deaf and dumb man,
one of the sherif's many sons, let me
in and after a ceremonious, If silent
greeting. led me across cool tiled
court, in the center Of which foun.
stairway leading to an upper gallery
There, close by the wrought-iron grill
ing of a window, through which one
has a magnificent glimpse out over
Fee to the northern hills, my host was
waiting to receive me.
Removed Shoes.
The Sheriff Ali Ben Hassein, tall
grizzled and venerable, is not only
descendant of the prophet, but has
made the pilgrimage to Mecca and,
hence, Is a parsonage of more than
ordinary consideration. He welcomed
me with warmth and dignity and es-
corted me into a large, high room
with tiled floor, tiled walls and grilled
windows. On entering I took off my
shoes and went thereafter stocking
footed. If I had forgotten to observe
the rigid and cleanly custom the
sheriff would have said nothing, but
he would have been confirmed in his
secret impression as to the boorish-
ness of unbelievers.
From the lofty ceiling of this room
was suspended a monumental glass
one corner stood an antiquated upright
piano On a kind of shelf against
one wall was a French clock. BY the
opposite wall were two double beds of
brass and iron, each with six mat.
tresses. The sheriff must have to
stand on the piano stool in order tc
climb up to rest. Near the beds were
IL dining room chairs. Nobody ever
sat in them, I believe, but they
looked impressive. ranged against the
wall. So vast was this room that, de-
spite THESE various IL
looked empty, giving an impression of
bare, polished tiles and cool, dim
spaces.
Ten or twelve Moors stood politely
waiting for us at the farther end of
the apartment. All, of course, were
men, for the female members of the
family are never exposed to the gaze
of outsiders - even fellow Moslems
Each, in turn, touched his heart
bowed and shook my hand. saying
Peace be with you" Several of them
were the sherif's sons. One or two
were his friends. One was a lordly
caid come up to Fez on a visit from
the mountains of the south. I could
not identify the others. About every
important Moorish house there are al
ways to be found vague relatives and
hangers-on, grateful for the free
meals.
Coarse, thick cushions had been
placed along the wall. We half re.
clined upon these, having each a
smaller, finer cushion on which to rest
an elbow, while the sheriff, manipulat
ing q brass samovar, made tea, OF
which we each drank the three Gus
tomary glasses.
A conversation began on the sub
ject of the war in the Riff, but guard
edly, for one pGver knows to whom