girt with palm-trees struggling through the sand. We passed through a large cemetery, filled with tombs of a construction new to us. Most of them were decorated with six pinnacles, each surmounted with an

ostrich-egg, and the principal graves with large tufts of black ostrich-feathers between the little pinnacles. The city must once have abounded in saints, if we might deduce any conclusion from the number of small neatlybuilt marabouts. But the sanctity seems now to have lost its odour, to judge from the evil reputation of its inhabitants for honesty.

The outer wall was entered by a dilapidated gateway; and having sent on the sheik to present our letter, we were soon met by the kadi in the open space outside the inner walls, of which there were two, each with a ditch like those of Waregla. It had been arranged that, to facilitate a sudden departure, we

should borrow a tent, and leave our own packages unopened. We picketed our horses under three ruinous archways, while a black camel-hair tent was brought and erected by some unveiled young women of the kadi's household, whose attention was divided between their picket-hammers and the strange Inglezes. While negroes brought us dates and sour camel's milk, the kadi and notables sat round and talked to us of M. Berbrugger, the well-known antiquary, who visited their city in disguise some years since, and was for two months the guest of the kadi, and the only European he had ever entertained. Brushwood was collected for a fire, and a second tent erected in front for our escort. The camels soon after arrived, and our baggage was piled so as to form a shelter to windward, our tent being otherwise a mere roof.

The kadi then conducted us through the city, sadly dilapidated, and more than half in ruins. The side wall of one mosque had altogether fallen in, exposing a long succession of tall pillars and Saracenic arches. The other existing mosque had a massive square tower, with very diminutive cupola sunk in the roof, and, the door being open, we were permitted to look into the temple, with its Saracenic arches, lofty and coarsely built, but not without some grandeur of effect. The streets were curiously arcaded by a succession of sharp open archways, between each of which was the front of a house, built like those of Waregla, and with mastabas at each corner. The inhabitants showed considerable admixture of negro blood, with flat noses and dilated nostrils, frequently plugged with blue cotton, perhaps to keep out the sand.

We rambled through the palm-gardens, all deeply trenched and well supplied with water from the marshes round. The whole surface was white with a crystal

lization of salt, which is exported, and there were also the same rude manufactories of saltpetre which have been before described. The sand-downs about the city were studded not only with black tents, but with many gourbis, or huts of palm-leaves, beneath which the goats enjoyed protection from the heat of the sun.

N'goussa, which has had constant wars with its neighbours, tells its own tale by the number of ruined villages and straggling palms, the remains of sand-buried gardens, which environ it. The guide we had engaged, while pretending to look for a bird I had shot, showed his honesty by stealing and concealing under his burnous his townsman's cabbage-plants, where, in a small plot by a well, laborious industry had succeeded in raising a few vegetables.

On our return a sheep had been killed, and a sumptuous repast prepared. First, sticks of kabobs were handed under the tent; then a long pole was pushed in with the fore-quarters of a sheep roasted in the embers, from which we cut off a shoulder, and passed the pole to our suite, who left but scanty remnants. Then a huge bowl of first-rate kouskousou, with pumpkins, butter, stewed dates, and a pile of boiled mutton, in succession, for all which we had but little space, though, Dalgettylike, we knew not where we should dine next.

Afterwards the kadi came in to coffee, with a present of a wax candle, by the light of which he requested me to write a letter to the Agha to acknowledge our hospitable reception. I wrote on the ground, and composed a flattering certificate, though, as none of the party understood a word of French, it was hard to comprehend the exact use of the testimonial. Before taking his leave he arranged the mode of our departure, and promised us the loan of two extra camels, and a couple of

additional guards, as far as Hadjira, to which, although twenty-two leagues off, he told us we must push in one day.

Meanwhile our horses had been well supplied with provender, of which they stood in need, having latterly, notwithstanding their dates, rather starved, I fancy, on their short commons and the Agha's promise of fodder. We were provided with a commendatory letter to the Marabout of Hadjira, a celebrated Mussulman saint; and an armed guard having been placed round our tent, the kadi bade adieu, and we turned in about eight o'clock, lying down in our clothes, with our revolvers on our pillows, and a fox's tail and vulture's head suspended as charms in the centre of our dwelling.

About ten o'clock I rose and looked out to see that all was safe, and found that we had an armed guard of thirtyfive men seated round the tent, and all awake. The worthy kadi had not forgotten provision for the way, for there were two large baskets of barley-bread, ghee, dates, and cold mutton laid in front. I turned in again in no very comfortable state of mind, all hope of a Sabbathday's rest on the morrow being necessarily foregone.

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CHAPTER XV.

An early start-Moonlight march- An active guide - Which is the route?—The enemy's camp-fire-Recklessness of Arabs - Halt at daybreak - Skulkers detected - A cavalry charge and capture— The prisoner's story-Traces of a struggle Dromedary-men Camels give in- Weary march-Hadjira at last --- A Mussulman saint A quiet resting-place - Escape of a fugitive to the city of refuge Visit of ceremony - State reception-Devout horsemen Aïn Bahrdad - Story of a Mekhasni's exploit - A vigilant shepherd - An unhealthy city - Blad et Amer - Nature and art in decay — Descent into the Wed R'hir.

ABOUT two A.M. P. called me. The kadi had given out that we were going to stay a few days, but had made arrangements for us to depart as soon as the moon should rise. The band of Chaamba freebooters hovering in the neighbourhood was about two hundred strong, and for some weeks past they had been robbing and murdering any small party they could surprise. Thus all intercourse with the Wed R'hir had been interrupted. We found the guard on the qui vive; the sehaurs were quietly roused; noiselessly, except for the grunting of the camels, the baggage was loaded; the moon had well risen; and before three o'clock the last camel had shuffled off.

We were making the shortest day in the year the longest, and the Sunday the hardest day we had ever had; but there was no help for it, and the endurance of an Arab horse on occasion is marvellous. After a glance at the services of the day we were in the stirrup, and, munching a barley-cake, trotted rapidly eastward, leaving our tents standing and the fire burning, with the guards sitting demurely in front.