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[[preprinted]] Friday, February 19, 1909  [[/preprinted]]

nice, but not to be mentioned in the same breath with "Bait El Captan." It isn't one regular cut and dried hut like the ordinarily built house, but is a maze of passages and bridges, and the rooms like a village of small houses instead of one big one. The house takes in the block,– I understand it really is two or three houses made over into one.

There is a big bazaar here, in keeping with the population, which is about 80,000,– twice that of Aden. 

Don't know as I'd want to be settled here,– the place is mighty unhealthy,– Mombasa is quite bad enough.

Stewart has been ordered home again. I'm the sole survivor of the three. Knock wood.

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[[preprinted]] Saturday, February 20, 1909  [[/preprinted]]

Went out to the Nazi Mmoja this afternoon for a little tennis. Mighty nice out there.
 
In the evening Vining took me through the local "tenderloin". As Jones Sahib remarks, "Zanzibar is a little hell". There were bars galore, and ladies of dead-easy virtue on every corner and stoop. They were hardly what could be termed tempting, however. Gee, what cows!

If Stewart and Sutton had kept away from some of these attractions(?) they might have served the firm a little better,– they'd been vigorously engaged in the pursuit of wine, woman and song at home, and they thought they could do it out here, too, that was all.