cast over all a network of creeping herbs with most extraordinary
flowers, delightful both to see and smell, but why so prickly, no man
can say.

"Surely, this must be paradise," cries Moll, staying to look around her.

And we were of the same thinking, until we came to the town, which, as I
have said, lies in the midst of this forest, and then all our hopes and
expectations were dashed to the ground. For we had looked to find a city
in keeping with these surroundings,--of fairy palaces and stately
mansions; in place whereof was nought but a wilderness of mean, low,
squalid houses, with meandering, ill-paved alleys, and all past
everything for unsavoury smells,--heaps of refuse lying before every
door, stark naked brats of children screaming everywhere, and a pack of
famished dogs snapping at our heels.

Don Sanchez leads the way, we following, with rueful looks one at the
other, till we reach the market-place, and there he takes us into a
house of entertainment, where a dozen Moors are squatting on their
haunches in groups about sundry bowls of a smoking mess, called
cuscusson, which is a kind of paste with a little butter in it and a
store of spices. Their manner of eating it is simple enough: each man
dips his hand in the pot, takes out a handful, and dances it about till
it is fashioned into a ball, and then he eats it with all the gusto in
the world. For our repast we were served with a joint of roast mutton,
and this being cut up, we had to take up in our hands and eat like any
savages,--their religion denying these Moors anything but the bare
necessities of life. Also, their law forbids the drinking of wine, which
did most upset Jack Dawson, he having for drink with his meat nothing
but the choice of water and sour milk; but which he liked least I know