Larache, February 1806.

0n our arrival at this place, we were met, at the gates of thegarrison, by the Governor's public Secretary, who conducted us to ahouse belonging to Mr. Matra, and afterwards accompanied me to thecastle to visit my patient. 0n our way thither I requested theSecretary to give me his opinion concerning the present state of theGovernor's health; I also asked how he had been accustomed to live,and how long he had been confined to his bed. "What do you mean," exclaimedhe, "by asking such foolish questions? you are not a _tweeb_" (thename for a physician). I told him that I occasionally was. He continued: "That mustbe determined by your success or failure; if you succeed, you will forever establish your fame in Barbary; you will be esteemed andrespected by all the Moors; but, if you fail, and His Excellencyshould expire under your hands, I would then advise you to make yourescape as quickly and as privately as possible, and never to attemptto revisit this country." I confessed the weight of the encouragementand threats which he held out; and inquiring whether he meant toinsinuate, that if the Governor died I should suffer death? andwhether they always punished their tweebs thus when they dispatchedany of their patients to the other world? he rejoined, "Not exactly;but consider, you are a Massarene, which makes a great difference." Ithen intimated that I would decline having any thing to do with hismaster, and would return to Gibraltar. "You do not think of such athing!" he exclaimed; "it would be unworthy of your character andsituation. But come; I will give you a few salutary hints, which perhaps of service to you; the rest you will discover at the bed-side, andon feeling the pulse of your patient, I wish you may succeed inrecovering him; but I am afraid he is going, and that no tweeb onearth can save him."