Walter Harris, the
resourceful traveller and _Times_ correspondent, did this when he sought
the oases of Tafilalt, so also, in his fashion, did R.B. Cunninghame
Graham when he tried in vain to reach Tarudant, and set out the record of
his failure in one of the most fascinating travel books published since
_Eothen_.[17]
For the rank and file of us the Government roads and the harmless
necessary soldier must suffice, until the Gordian knot of Morocco's future
has been untied or cut. Then perhaps, as a result of French pacific
penetration, flying railway trains loaded with tourists, guide-book in
hand and camera at the ready, will pierce the secret places of the land,
and men will speak of "doing" Morocco, as they "do" other countries in
their rush across the world, seeing all the stereotyped sights and
appreciating none. For the present, by Allah's grace, matters are quite
otherwise.
Marrakesh unfolded its beauties to us slowly and one by one as we pushed
horses and mules into a canter over the level plains of Hillreeli. Forests
of date-palm took definite shape; certain mosques, those of Sidi ben Yusuf
and Bab Dukala, stood out clearly before us without the aid of glasses,
but the Library mosque dominated the landscape by reason of the Kutubia
tower by its side.
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