We have sometimes moral disquisitions among our people. This day we had
a dispute on religion. The Zintanah, a real orthodox Musulman,
maintained a strict distinction between the believers and unbelievers,
giving heaven to the former and hell to the latter. Yusuf and several
more tolerant gentlemen held out hope of mercy to us all, as God was
"the Compassionate and the Merciful." The chaouch also lectured the
people on courage, and publicly maintained that the Fezzanees were all
cowards. This fellow is a second Sir John Falstaff, without the
corpulence. The tone of all members of the caravan, as I have mentioned,
is now much humanised. Every one is more civil to us, and, by habit, to
one another. However, the chaouches must, of course, get up a quarrel
now and then: they do it between themselves; but, as a sign that they
likewise are a little civilised, have only had two regular explosions
to-day. Probably these worthies, who remind me of a bull-dog and a
terrier, find particular pleasure in this form of social intercourse;
for I always observe, that they are on more friendly terms than ever
after they have almost come to beard-pulling.
I interfere as little as possible in all these quarrels, but now and
then it is difficult to hold aloof. This morning, for example, the black
who has two wives, took it into his head to beat one of them in public.
I called upon him to desist, upon which he went to work harder than
ever; so that I was compelled to break a stick over his shoulders to
reduce him to quietness.
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