this pseudo-Arab quarter to prove that sympathy is possible between themselves and Islam.
These so-called Arabs of the Oran streets are either the local nabobs or neighboring landowners, possessing larger or smaller holdings. Both are totally under the influence of the French civilization, and for the excellent red wine of the region, the Royal Kebir, they are willing to disregard even the laws of the Koran.
In the Arab quarter lives an agglomeration of individuals from many different tribes and of shelterless beggars, pariahs and human flotsam, scavenging birds living from day to day, sometimes dangerous species of these, though such are rare under the energetic and successful hunting of their kind by the police.
When my wife and I sought for a place where we could hear native music and songs and see the native dances, we found a most unprepossessing den, where a whole sanitary corps should have first been set at work to blaze the way for us. It was a high price for my wife to pay, but she had come to Africa with the very definite purpose of studying the native tribal music and of searching it out in all its forms. We were met by two big, strong and over-familiar men, who piloted us to a small room with only one narrow window and ushered us to seats on a big chest, covered with a cushion that had long ago earned its right to retire from further service. Then the dancing-women entered, in multi-colored dresses and with innumerable jewels and trinkets about their necks and in their ears and hair. Observing these gaudy decorations, I recognized them as coming from the neighborhood of the Gare de l'Est, where numerous factories
