saint and the traveller had met before, the former being, in fact, a jogee, whom Ibn Batūta had seen many years before leaning against the wall of an idol temple in the island of Sindibur. Saints, as well as other men, are sometimes imprudent. The jogee had no sooner made this confession than he repented of it, and, retreating into his cell, immediately disguised himself, so that the traveller, who he suspected would forcibly follow him, could not upon entering recognise his person in the least. To infuse into his visiter's mind the belief that he possessed the power of rendering himself invisible, he informed him that he had seen the last of the holy men, who, though at that moment present, was not to be seen. On returning to the city, our traveller was assured by the judge of the place that it was the same person who had appeared to him both within and without the cave, and that, in fact, the good man was fond of playing such tricks.
Returning to El Zaitun, he proceeded towards the capital, and halted a little at the city of Fanjanfūr, which, from the number and beauty of its gardens, in some measure resembled Damascus. Here, at a banquet to which he was invited, the remembrance of home was forcibly recalled to his mind by a very affecting and unexpected meeting. He was sitting at table, among his jovial entertainers, when a great Mohammedan fakeer, who entered and joined the company, attracted his attention; and as he continued to gaze earnestly at him for some time, the man at length observed him, and said, "Why do you continue looking at me, unless you know me?" To this Ibn Batūta replied, by demanding the name of his native place. "I am," said the man, "from Ceuta."—"And I," replied Ibn Batūta, "am from Tangiers." By that peculiar structure of the mind which gives associations of ideas, whether pleasurable or painful, so thorough an empire over our feelings, the very enunciation of those two sounds melted
