31st.—Started, as the sun shewed his broad face above the horizon. Route till the afternoon, over a sandy, gravelly plain; then entered some hilly country, where we came to the well of Temet-Tar. Excessively hot again to-day, apparently the precursor of the Simoum the following day. In this Fezzanee caravan, it is our practice to halt at noon, or thereabouts, to take a little refreshment. I am informed all the caravans of this route do so. The Ghadamsee caravans, on the route of Ghat, never halt in the day-time, continuing from morning to night. Our people carry a few dates in a bag, or on the camel's back, all ready for the luncheon. These they throw down upon a portion of a barracan spread on the sands. Sometimes a piece of bread is broken over the dates. They then squat round this repast in groups. The slaves save from their previous day's supper, or from the morning, a few dates for this time of the day, and are allowed each a drink of water. Noticed a bird's nest on a furze of The Desert. This is only the second I have ever seen in Sahara. A few small birds are now hopping about on the line of route. But I have observed the colour of the birds to vary with the region through which we pass. Now they are yellow, now black, now black and white, and all as small as linnets. These birds have no song, only chirping and twittering about. A few larks I have seen where water and palms and other trees abound. We encamped about 4 P.M. The water of the well is by no means sweet, but not being brackish, it quenches thirst sufficiently.

1st April.—Rose early and started early. A terrible day! A ghiblee in all its force[125]. The wind is directly from south ( "south"). It is quite dry, unlike the sirocco which blows at Malta. Sirocco is damp and most enervating, and south-east in its direction. Probably, however, it is the same wind, but sweeping over the sea it attracts moisture, and changes to south-east. I was praying for, and prophesying all the morning, up to 9 A.M., a cool day. The reverse has happened, as so often happens in answer to our most ardent wishes. I never was so astonished as when I saw the negroes on this day. Mr. Gagliuffi had said to me, "If you have ghiblee, the slaves can't go." But I could hardly believe a hot wind to be so injurious to these children of the sun. They seemed as if they could bear any cold better than a hot south wind. They got behind the camels or stooped under their bellies; they held up their barracans, taking it by turns to hold them up, by which means they sheltered five or six together; they concealed their faces and their bodies with their tattered garments; they invented all sorts of expedients to shelter themselves a moment against The Desert simoum. I could not help observing how superior the white man was to the black man in his physical make. Our Arabs and Moors kept up erect, facing this furnace blast, and bore the heat and burthen of the day a thousand times better than the Negroes—these children begotten by the sun from the slime of the Niger, on whose swampy plains heat reigns eternally with all its fiery fervour! I had always thought the Negro, being naturally a chilly creature, could not be affected with a hot wind. We all drank plentifully today, ten times as much as on other days. But this being a ghiblee day, it was necessary to drive on the slaves quick, and with violence, the camels not carrying a sufficiency of water for a couple of days of this sort. Essnousee now showed how eminently qualified he was for this infernal traffic. He did drive them on most furiously, while as to one wretched Negress, I thought he would have left her dead on the spot, flaying her most unmercifully. The miscreant Essnousee was only prevented from the perpetration of this horrid crime by the main-force interference of Mohammed Azou, another slave-dealer travelling with us, with seven slaves, and who, I must record, was a humane man, though a dealer in the flesh and blood of his fellow creatures. I have not observed him even once beating his slaves, which is saying a great deal. The conduct of this humane Moor proved that it was not absolutely necessary to beat slaves when driving them over Desert. The Touaricks of Aheer, indeed, know this, and never lay a finger on their poor captives. We, at length, got through this day of horrible heat and thirst, for God gives an end to all things. Never will be effaced from the tablet of my memory the prayer of a poor Negress girl, who, in the height of the simoum came running up to me, her eyes bloodshot, her face streaming with tears, "Buy me, Yâkob, O, buy me! I am very good, I will be good wife to you, and sleep with you. O, I'm dying! take me, buy me, buy me, Yâkob. The wind kills me."

We encamped on a vast plain, having ranges of low mountains on our right and left. The carcases of two camels were left on the road, which had broken down from the large caravan we had passed; and, a thing unusual, the Arabs had left part of the flesh on the bones; some of our slaves immediately devoured it raw. Hunger's the thing to give you a relish.

2nd.—Rose at Fidger, a little before day-break, or at the point of day, in fright of another ghiblee. Necessity has, indeed, in such a case, no law, and no compassion on the unfortunate. But, to-day, God sent the poor slaves a little fresh north wind, for "God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." The north wind increased towards the evening, we journeying on very well. Course, north and north-west, over the vast expanse mentioned yesterday. Quantities of bits of marble, pieces of fine quartz, and shining felspar, are strewn over the plain, which contrasting with its dark ground-work, look at times as if we were traversing some enchanted carpet. But our brains reeled, and we all suffered from thirst. People seemed all mad to-day. One called to me, "Yâkob, listen." I listened, but being hard of hearing, I thought there might be some sounds. Another camel-driver pretended he heard sweet melodious sounds. On inquiring what music it was, he replied, "Like the Turkish band." Then another came running to me, "Yâkob, see what a beautiful sight." I turned to look, but my eyes were so weak and strained, that I could see nothing upon the dreary face of the limitless plain. Essnousee swore to seeing a bright city of the Genii, and actually counted the number of the palaces and the palms. I believe our people were delirious from the effects of yesterday's simoum, for I did not observe mirage. The beautiful words of Cowper recurred to me when I had the power of calm reflection, in the evening of the day:—

"So in The Desert's dreary waste, By magic power produced in haste, (As ancient fables say,) Castles, and groves, and music sweet, The senses of the traveller meet, And stop him in his way.

But while he listens with surprise, The charm dissolves, the vision dies, 'Twas but enchanted ground."

Not much sand on the plain, but gravel occasionally. Some sand hills appear in the distance, a line of waving dazzling white on the horizon. Encamped late in the evening. The well of Nabah is not in the line of route.

At the site of this well happened a sad event two years and a half ago, and which now, suffering as I was with thirst, came with redoubled force to my mind. Mr. Gagliuffi, on his appointment to be Consul at Mourzuk, took with him a young Tuscan as secretary. The vivacious Italian soon quarrelled with the Consul, and immediately determined to return to Tripoli, during the height of summer (August), in spite of the warnings of everybody. However, with care and due preparation, this route, and all Saharan routes, can be and are travelled in every season of the year; as is sufficiently proved by my own journey to Ghadames. Two days after the Tuscan left Sockna, came on a terrible ghiblee, but infinitely more intense and stifling than any south wind could be in this season. The Tuscan was travelling with a caravan of a few people, who determined to bring up for the day, about 2 P.M., although having but a small supply of water. They were then about seven hours from the well of Nabah. The distance was tempting to the rash European. With a little courage and dispatch could not the well be reached before night? Why not? thought he. The youth was self-willed and peremptory. He knew better than the old Arab camel-drivers, traversing this route all their life-time. The Tuscan had also with him a horse. But what does he do? Having about a bucket of water left, he gives it to the horse; and then starts, taking off with him a young Arab, apparently as foolish as himself. They proceeded on their last journey, the Tuscan riding the horse, the poor Arab boy going on foot, as guide to the well. The caravan weathers out the ghiblee—the men covering up their faces and mouths from the scorching blast, afraid to breathe the killing air of the simoum—the camels moaning in death-like tones, prophetic of the fate of those who had just gone! But night comes, and brings some relief to the wasting, if not dying animals. Then the morning breaks with a refreshing breeze, and the exhausted caravan has enough strength left to seek the well. Near the well, not a quarter of a mile distant, they first find the young Italian stretched dead, a little farther off the horse, and a little farther off the Arab. They had perished at the well's mouth! There cannot be a doubt, these unhappy youths perished by their own folly. The European had even water enough to last him a whole day, but gave it to his horse, and braved wildly the death-gale of The Desert. The poor Arab, I am told, was forced away against his will to guide the mad-cap Tuscan to their fatal end. By such folly, have also perished unnumbered caravans in the Saharan regions.

Our people who went to Nabah for water, found the well too late to return, and came back at day-light in the morning, about two and a half hours' distance from the line of route.

3rd.—We held on our course northward, weary and exhausted, but the wind freshened from north-west, and we did not suffer from heat. We now entered into groups of small mountains. At 4 P.M., seeing the sandy hills of Bonjem, our merciful slave-master, Essnousee, determined we might now encamp, and go fresh and early next day to the Fortress. Observed two small snakes to-day in open Desert, the first time I have seen them in Sahara. So much for the snakes, asps, adders, basilisks, cockatrices, and fiery flying serpents of The Desert! We have with us one old gentleman who joined us at Sockna. He is conveying one slave to Tripoli. Greatly surprised at this, I asked him how he could travel these horrid wastes with such a miserable stake in commerce as a single slave! The Saharan veteran replied, "You are right. It would be better for me to remain in Sockna, and spend my days in prayer and poverty like a dervish. But I have another slave in Tripoli. This is the whole of my property. I shall return again, after I have sold them, to Mourzuk, and buy and sell. Such is the will of God, what can I do?" And so the traffic in human beings goes on. It is quite certain, from this case, nothing but main force can put an end to the slave-trade, for the Moors will carry it on at all risks, and under any circumstances. How induce men to give up a traffic, who will travel a month over Desert with a capital of a couple of slaves!

4th.—Rose early, and was astonished and alarmed to find my bed-clothes and all my wearing apparel wet with a thick heavy dew. This I had not experienced through all my journeyings in Desert, for, as the ancient Arabian writers have styled this country, it is a "Dry Country," from Egypt to the Atlantic. But new things always surprise—often alarm us. We soon got used to dewy nights and heavy dews. We were now also entering or near to the regions of rain. I dried my clothes at the fire, and felt no ill effects from this heavy night dew. All were travelling without tents, except the female slaves, who, unless sheltered during the night, would soon have died from cold. Day-time our female slaves were poorly clad, having on only a piece of woollen wrapper, besides a black cotton frock, and some not even a piece of wrapper to cover their heads and shoulders. Bonjem people say these dews are perpetual, covering all the sandy soil of the country round with fresh green herbage, which our poor camels now cropped with a voracious delight. In two hours and a half we entered the new town of Bonjem. It is the site of the ancient Roman station, or town, called Septimius Severus. A fort has recently been built from the ancient ruins, with a few small miserable houses in the shape of a village. The fort, or burge, is however strong and commodious, and has quarters for the accommodation of five hundred troops. The present garrison consists of about thirty raw Arabs, relieved every two months. They have no pay or allowance, except their rations. The object of the Pasha in the erection of this fortress, was to connect militarily The Mountains with the large and important oasis of Sockna. A few gardens have been laid out, several wells dug, and these, with the homely hovels, the very picture of "the day of small things," are still infinitely preferable to the naked desolation of Sahara. On proceeding upwards, water is here taken in for three or four days. The water is very good, although it has a fetid odour, rendering it disagreeable when drinking. Walked about the village. There may be forty or fifty houses, mere square boxes of mud or plaster, mixed with old Roman stones, about twelve feet high, and containing perhaps a hundred inhabitants. Being new, the houses have a clean appearance. There are two streets, and a fondouk, or caravanserai. To build such a village and a fortress, some rather fine Roman ruins received their final stroke of demolition.

Afternoon,—went to see the ancient Roman station of Septimius Severus. It lies east of Bonjem at a quarter of an hour's walking. Of the fort or castle, there remains still a sufficient quantity of blocks of stone to point out the four gates, and some rude pillars seven or eight feet high, denoting the site of a temple, or other public building, within the castle. We visited three of the gates, but found only one inscription, cut on a single block deeply imbedded in sand, and covered with other blocks of stone. The letters were Roman, and, pretty freshly chiselled, but we could not move the other stones so as to decipher the words in their full length. Some blocks of stone were shaped into arches, others lay scattered in single blocks, on one of which was this plain device.



This is the sole result of my antiquarian visit. Not a bit of fine marble or a coin was picked up. The stone of the ruins was a dark grey granite, almost black, of very coarse grain. It must have been brought some distance, for I have seen no stone like it in the neighbourhood. The walls of the castle were very thick, and built in the usual Roman style, with cement and small stones, the mortar being now nearly as hard as the stone itself. These walls were also faced with the blocks of stone mentioned. The walls of the city had merely cement and small stones. These latter are extensive. The ensemble of the ruins makes one deeply regret to see The Sahara has gone back ages in the arts and civilization, for such is evident from these debris of Roman Saharan culture. This fact, even the Moors themselves accompanying me, acknowledged by such exclamations as wasâ, "wide!" and kebir, "great!" But the impression with them is fleeting, and anything unconnected with their religion, and the history of the conquests of Islamism, I have always observed is accounted nothing by these people. Half a day west of Bonjem, the people tell me there is a few scattered ruins of another ancient city. On our way we found two wells, lately dug, and the Taleb-Kaed says, water is every where found near the surface, and always good, in spite of the disagreeable gaseous exhalation when drunk. A few tiny palms are also planted about these wells, in this Turkish attempt to upraise Septimius Severus. The little sprigs of palm pleased all, and were welcomed by us as the germ of the future oasis, which shall afford shade and fruit to a large population. There may be a dozen wells already dug, and every year the infant oasis shows more signs of life, and a little, little more progressive existence. The prevailing soil is sandy, but good for grain and palms.

This evening had an imbroglio or row with Essnousee, who attempted to impose upon me by charging for two or three suppers which he furnished me in the way of hospitality at his native place of Sockna. I had lent him all my money to purchase food for his slaves. He now refused to refund, on this and other pleas.

During the road from Sockna to Bonjem, I thought of two or three regulations which might mitigate the evils of Saharan slave-traffic, as well as limit its operations, if our Government could prevail upon the Turks to adopt them. If we can't stop the trade at once, we may try to lessen its miseries. We English did the same in the case of our own slave-trade.

1st. That no Tripoline, or other Ottoman subject, should purchase a slave out of the provinces of Tripoli.

2nd. That the slaves en route for Tripoli should be accompanied by a Government officer, who should watch over them and see that they are not over-driven or inhumanly flogged.

3rd. That for every slave dying en route, or in any of the towns en route, for the markets of the Coast, whatever may be the cause, the owner of that slave should be fined a sum equal to the duty paid for it to Government.

The first rules would lessen the operations of the traffic, and prevent slave-merchants from purchasing and speculating in Soudan, and always put them under the eye and surveillance of the agents of Government. The second would in a great measure prevent over-driving and inhuman flogging, if faithfully followed out. The third would, at least, always insure the slaves having food enough to preserve them in good health.

I think I see the free-trader smile at these restrictions, and hear him say, "What humbug!" But first, it is here a question to regulate a nefarious traffic which the Porte, our ally, is not yet prepared to abolish. Until the free-trader can prove to me that the traffic in slaves is a legitimate commerce, I shall advocate the crippling of it by restrictions, let these restrictive regulations be ever so puerile. But we have the fact, that since Mr. Gagliuffi persuaded the Ottoman authorities to lay a tax of ten dollars per head on each slave, the traffic has diminished considerably. So at any rate the merchants themselves tell me. This was the object of the Vice-Consul, and he accomplished his object. On the other hand, it could be represented to the Porte, that the first regulation would bring the commerce of the interior within their territories, a great advantage for the Regency of Tripoli.

5th.—Not so much dew as yesterday morning. The imbroglio with Essnousee continues about refunding the money I lent him. To-day it assumed a formidable shape, not only all our caravan was involved in it, but the whole of the town, and the Kaëd at their head. I agreed to give the slave-merchant a fair price for his suppers, but for the rest, insisted on being paid back the money which I lent him, and which he promised to refund at Sockna. On arriving at Sockna, Essnousee found money scarce, and thought he would bamboozle me out of my money. The Taleb-Kaëd saw the justice of the plea, as did all the people, and the merchant was ordered to give me the balance of the few dollars. The money was requisite to purchase a little milk, or butter, or fresh provisions. My vanity, however, came in the way of my stomach. So when I got the dollars, to show I did not carry on this imbroglio for selfish purposes, but solely for the sake of common justice between man and man, I ordered, with great pomposity and an air of immense benevolence, the money to be distributed to the poor of the town. This ostentation greatly pleased all the Moors and Arabs, save and except the crest-fallen chagrined Essnousee; it only increased the bitter misery of his defeat. I was wicked enough to be glad to humiliate the unfeeling slave-dealer in this way, for he had no money and was obliged to borrow to pay, which sadly lessened his consequence.

Afterwards went to see the Moorish Secretary Kaëd, installed in the Castle. This functionary is placed here principally for the dispatch of the mails backwards and forwards. The secretary does not interfere with the Sheikh who commands the garrison, and only attends to couriers and the little affairs of the village. For this work he has the large salary of three dollars per month. It seemed as if imbrogliamento was the order of the day, for here I witnessed a row as violent as my own. An old Arab, very crusty and obstinate, had arrived from Sockna on Government business. He was to receive money from the Kaed, and pay money to him. The Kaed would not pay, and he would not pay. The old gentleman sat down before the irritated functionary, and holding the teskera and a new Turkish passport in his hand, said, "Give me my rights. Why rob you a poor man? Is it because I am poor and old you rob me? Fear I the Sultan? Why should I fear you or the Sultan? I fear alone God." The excited Kaed could no longer restrain himself. He seized the papers out of the hands of the Arab and tore them to pieces, exclaiming, "Go out, you dog!" Besides this the Kaed threatened the bastinado. The hangers-on of his Excellency carried the old man out of the apartment until the wrath of their dwarf tyrant had cooled down. The affair afterwards ended by both parties accepting and paying their mutual claims. The Arabs are greatly exasperated about these passports, which, indeed, are of no possible use, and are only used by these petty functionaries to extort money from the poor people. An Arab said to me, showing the animus of the question hereabouts, "Before our Sultan became a Christian we never heard of these teskeras. Now that he is become an infidel, he sends us these accursed things to take away our money, and rob our children of bread." The poor Sultan, in fact, if he can get hold of any detestable thing of European civilization, is sure to adopt it, to torment his subjects.

Spent the rest of the day within the Castle, gossiping with the Arab soldiers, their Sheikh, and the Kaed. To-day I was thankful for two things, for having inflicted a salutary lesson on the iniquitous slave-driver, and for being sheltered from the sun and wind. The Castle has three towers at three of its corners, but not rising much higher than the upper terrace walls. The outer walls are about twelve or fifteen feet high, and as usual pierced with holes for musketry. I did not see any mounted ordnance. Within is a fine court yard, and there is a detached breast-work of defence over the entrance. It is very comfortable in many of its apartments, affording a most effectual shelter from wind and heat. The short time of service makes the Arab soldiers cheerful, and they are pretty well fed and enjoy good health. There is no fever, but they tell me there are a few cases of the Enghiddee of Soudan, a fine silken worm formed under the cuticle of the body, mostly on the legs and arms, already described under the name of Arak-El-Abeed[126]. Arabs do not catch this disorder so much as merchants going to Soudan. The only arms these troops have, is the matchlock or musket, on some of which the bayonet is mounted. From the top of the Castle the surrounding country presents an unbroken mass of desert, and more distantly low ridges of mountains and sand hills. The Kaed assures me, however, that in seven years he will have a fine plantation of palms. He has planted several, and is about to fetch some choice shoots from Tripoli. With toil and care The Desert, in truth, can not only be rendered habitable and tractable, but even comfortable, as the building of this fort well proves. It has been built since Mr. Gagliuffi passed this way to Mourzuk, and I am the only European who has seen this bran-new town of Bonjem. The Bashaw of Tripoli boasts of it as his work, and on my return begged me to give him a sketch of it, which I did, but for which I received no thanks. A few snakes are often seen coiling themselves on the shrubs, gazelles, aoudads, and wild oxen, skip and bound and run about, now and then an ostrich races past or sails along, half in heaven and half on earth, and deebs (wolves) come down to drink at the pits during the night. But the Arabs are not allowed to hunt, nor garden or dig; their duty is to spend the live-long day in "strenuous idleness," or doing nothing but sleep and lounge. To-day was hot and sultry. The female slaves were very busy in washing themselves. They afterwards had a good race stark naked, running after me and grinning. It is very seldom they commit such breaches of modesty. In general, the Negress is very modest in her manners, more so than Mooresses.

I congratulated myself in having a comfortable sleep under roof to-night. I felt glad also for a rest here of a couple of days. In travelling through Sahara, one or two days greatly relieve you without making you feel that you have been stopping when you again mount the camel, whilst a rest of a week often makes a new journey and a new tour, and you feel all the pain and misery of beginning again.

6th to the 11th.—My journal gets very fragmentary, confused, and enigmatical. Many of the memorandums I cannot recal to mind. I find I was getting at this time much exhausted, and weary of writing. My health, indeed, was being greatly undermined, and suffering was become my daily solace! Often I could not stand when lifted off my camel. Sometimes I was senseless for an hour or two after we had encamped. I expected "to get used to it." Vain thought! I was just as tired and stiff with riding the last day as the first day when I started on the tour, besides having my health and strength essentially impaired.

We directed our course to Misratah, instead of Benioleed, on account of there being more water in the former route. Benioleed, or Ben Waleed— —lies to the north-west of Bonjem, but Misratah nearly due north. I was disappointed in not seeing Benioleed, on account of its Hesperian valley of olives, and other fruit-trees scattered in paradisal beauty and profusion. The valley, in which the town is situate, lies at the base of some of the lofty ridges of the Tripoline Atlas, and contains a population of about three thousand souls. I was glad to hear there were some Europeans now employed in improving the wells of the town, sent by the Bashaw, all which denotes progress in the Turk. Benioleed is six good days' journey from Bonjem, and four or five from Tripoli.

Nothing remarkable occurred in our route from Bonjem to Misratah. Before arriving at Bonjem, I saw, by the nature of the country, that we were approaching the regions of rain, herbage and shrubs increasing on every side. The country also assumed a more even, though an undulating surface; and I lost sight of those low, dull, dreary, and monotonous ridges which characterize the desolations, of the African Wilderness. However, I expected to see the eastern terminations of the Tripoline Atlas. Continuing our six days' route, now west, now north-west, now north, and now north-east and east, wriggling in serpentine style about, we arrived at length within open-culture lands, where were two or three small patches of barley, mostly in ear, not being irrigated, but left to the free rains of heaven. The sight of these made my heart bound with joy: now I knew I had got without the bounds of the dry and desolate Sahara! There seemed to be something so fresh and natural about barley-fields, depending for life and growth on the fattening rains of heaven, in comparison with the garden patches of grain I had witnessed for months cultivated by the hand of man. All our people seemed equally affected by the sight of these natural corn-fields; and Essnousee, to show his respect for property thus left to the mercy of every camel-driver, ordered the camels not to be driven through the standing barley. The camels heeded little the command, and managed to get large mouthfuls; our Soudan sheep fed to their full; a good deal was also destroyed. I observed, nevertheless, the camels preferred the green tender herbage, to the corn in the ear, and picked it out carefully between the rows of straggling barley. With the increase of herbage and water,—for water was not found in all the route from Bonjem,—the animals increased. Gazelles bounded before us, at times in small herds of six or seven; and hares were constantly started from under the camels' feet. We had no sportsmen with us, and no game was shot or taken. The Arabs ran frequently to the bushes whence the gazelles bounded, in order to find young ones. Birds now increased to full flights. Here were numbers of little birds with yellow body and brown back. This part of The Sahara had its particular bird, as the rest. The little black and white fellow higher up was now succeeded by the little yellow and brown fellow. Other birds were flying about, but not so numerous as this species. But the bird that now caught my attention was the gull. At first I was perplexed to know how this bird could be found so far up The Desert, but I recollected we had but six or seven days from Bonjem to Misratah, near the coast. The gull suggested to my drooping spirits sea-breezes to restore my shattered frame, and gave me new life. As we neared Misratah the country increased in comeliness (because after so much desert), and near Misratah the hills were actually green and flowery, so long black and hideously bare. But indeed, it was the best time of Spring. We passed on every side scattered Arab tents,—to us pavilions of pleasure,—with their flocks and herds: all denoting open-culture and the presence of rain.

Scarce a ten-thousandth part of this country is reduced to cultivation. Here and there only are some few corn-fields, where the seed, when sown, is left to get ripe as it may, the only manure being the burning of the stubble of the previous year. We must, indeed, say more or less of the coast of all North Africa, and express the same hope for the future in the words of one of the prophets: "And the desolate land shall be tilled, whereas it lay desolate in the sight of all that passed by. And they shall say, This land that was desolate is become like the garden of Eden; and the waste, and desolate, and ruined cities are become fenced, and are inhabited." (Ezek. xxxvi. 34, 35.) North Africa was once the garden as well as the granary of the world. A series of disastrous revolutions has successively reduced this once so fair and fertile region, to waste, barrenness, and barbarism; the Mahometan fate-doctrine meanwhile hugging and conserving its ruins and dilapidations. We may perhaps hope, the French are doing something for the Algerian coast. The Turks may yet do something in Tripoli. Tunis and Morocco have more cultivated lands than Tripoli or Algeria, and reforms are agitating both countries. Once the spirit of improvement gets fairly into this region, it may resume its ancient celebrity of being "like the garden of Eden." Near Misratah, I observed, for the first time in my tour, the hawthorn-tree: it was reddened over with nice ripe haws.

On the evening of the 6th, we passed the spot where Abd-El-Geleel was decapitated, called Bughalah ("mule"). This was a small piece of mountain, looking abruptly over a wady, or deep valley. On this mountain block the Sheikh concentrated all his military forces, collecting as well the families of his tribe. Here he skirmished with the Turks for many days, he winning and they winning a battle, as it happened; but they, at length hemming him round, and isolating him on the rock, where there was not a drop of water to be had, the Sheikh finally was obliged to surrender. His retiring to this hideous rock was only matched in folly by his confiding in the faith of a Turk. Truly, when men are to be destroyed, their evil genius inspires them with madness.

On the 8th, we took in water from the well of Daymoum. Around were the remains of a fortified camp, and stones were placed in a large circle. This camp was erected by Hasan Bashaw, Commander-in-Chief of the Regency, when he was at war with Abd-El-Geleel. It looks not unlike a Druidical circle.

On the 9th we took in a little water from the well of Namwah. Several sea-gulls were here flying about. To-day I have to mention a fact which shows to what extraordinary changes of temperature the Great Desert is subject, as well as Barbary generally. About nine in the morning a strong ghiblee got up, increasing till it became so violent that we encamped at once, not venturing to expose the slaves to this killing simoum. Covering up my face and mouth, I put my head into a pannier. I was almost suffocated it is true, still it was better than exposing myself to the searching flame of this furnace wind. What became of the slaves I cannot tell, I was too busy with myself. Here I lay gasping for an hour, when Said came and called to me, "Now Bahree ()," or north. "How, bahree!" I answered astonished. "Bahree! bahree!" he continued, "the caravan is going." I got up, and felt sensibly and convincingly enough it was bahree. The wind had made a whirlwind sweep in the space of an hour, it was now blowing as hard from the north as it had done from the south. But strange yet natural enough, columns of hot air were blown back into our faces from the north for some time, until, towards the evening, the wind became as cold, bleak, and biting, as it had been hot and stifling. These sudden changes are terrific, and are often attended with most serious consequences in The Desert. Asking our people how long a simoum or ghiblee would blow in The Desert, they replied, "Never violently more than a couple of days." I do not recollect it once to have continued a whole day, but light south winds have prevailed for several days. As an instance of the calamitous effects of sudden changes of weather in North Africa, I may mention that, in the Spring of 1845, when Sidi Mohammed, "Bey of the Camp" in the Regency of Tunis, was returning from the Jereed, he lost, on one day, some Turks and other troops from the heat, and, on the very next day, several perished from the cold. Some hundred camels also died from the cold at the same time. A recent expedition in Algeria, during which some hundred French troops were frozen to death, must recur to the recollection of the reader, having happened from the same cause of a sudden change of temperature.

On the 10th we came to the well of Saneeah Abdel Kader, ("Garden of the slave of the Most Mighty," or God). At this place was a ruined fortress, looking over an immense district of country, a great quantity of which was under cultivation, presenting light-green and orange-brown patches of grain. We passed the stream of Touwarkah, a name apparently derived from Touwarick, or Touarick. The bubbling running stream was looked upon as a wonder by our slaves. They rushed into it, and washed and bathed themselves, like so many mad things; indeed, after so much dry desert, the stream was a wonder to us all. I had almost begun to think I should never see again a large running stream. But I have seen the negresses wash their faces, hands and legs, on the coldest morning. An Arab or a Moor hardly washes himself once a month. These habits of cleanliness the negresses bring from the banks of the Niger. We had the village of Touwarkah on our right, to which was attached a forest of palms, nearly half a day's journey in length. I had scarcely spoken a word to Essnousee during these last five days, but, on the morning of the 11th, he entered voluntarily into conversation with me, informing me there was an English quarantine agent at the port of Misratah. The slave-driver, getting nearer to the coast, had cunningly abated his ardour for beating the slaves. He now began to fear he might get reported to the Bashaw. Sometimes, however, he would throw a stone at the poor things, that is, when too idle to go and flog them. I looked about in vain for the Atlas chain, or the last of its eastern links; one mass of undulating country stretched to the sea-shore. What feeling of excessive joy thrilled through my nervous frame when our people talked of the sea, for though not visible to us, we were near enough to breathe its invigorating air. Now, indeed, all was changed, and new life took possession of the entire caravan. The green and pleasant spring cultivation, the darkly fair verdure of several young olive-trees, here and there a graceful palm, now broad leafy shadowy fig-trees, the delicate almond and the pretty pomegranate, all the treasures of the gardens of Misratah, raised our joy to ecstasy. I myself often thought I should never see again Tripoli, or the sea; now they seemed restored to me, and I to them, as if at one time they had been hopelessly lost! But how small had all objects become, how diminutive, how confined, limited and contracted their dimensions, and how pretty yet how petty, compared to the vast huge and limitless lines of existence, which form and circumscribe the Great Saharan Regions! where I had travelled so many long months. When I first arrived in Africa, I looked upon the dark and purple mountains of the coast with a species of mysterious feeling, as if such mountain groups were boundless in extent, unfathomable and unsearchable in their stronghold foundations. But now, returning again to the regions of Atlas, the chains of this celebrated range in Tripoli, Tunis, and Algeria, seemed like old familiar faces to me, or so many contracted domestic objects. My eye had been so accustomed to gazing day after day over plains without an apparent bound, on mountain ridges running along weeks and weeks of Desert journeying, that it could now only regard all the African coast scenery as so many pretty little painted landscapes, which might be reduced and easily accommodated to stage scenery at a minor theatre.

On the arrival of our ghafalah at Misratah, I was introduced to the quarantine agent, Signor Francesco Regini, an Italian born in Tripoli, but under British protection, and having a Maltese wife. Regini begged me to put up in his house, and I accepted his kindly proffered invitation, when his wife cooked me a fowl and I dined like a prince. I now thought I would return to Tripoli by sea, to get a little bracing sea-air, but afterwards I determined to continue with the caravan of slaves to Tripoli, to see the last of the poor things, or accompany them till their arrival at the Tripoline market of human flesh.

FOOTNOTES:

[125] As the description of the Simoum ("poisoned" wind, from "poison"), given by the following writers, is the account of men, who were bonâ fide Saharan travellers, I shall take the liberty of transcribing their various relations:—

"Nothing can be more overpowering than the South wind (Ghibee,) or the East, (Shirghee), each of which is equally to be dreaded. In addition to the excessive heat and dryness of these winds, they are impregnated with sand, and the air is darkened by it, the sky appears of a dusky yellow, and the sun is barely perceptible. The eyes become red, swelled and inflamed; the lips and skin parched and chapped; while severe pain in the chest is generally felt, in consequence of the quantities of sand unavoidably inhaled. Nothing, indeed, is able to resist the unwholesome effects of this wind. On opening our boxes, we found the many little articles, and some of our instruments which had been carefully packed, were entirely split and destroyed. Gales of the kind here described, generally continue ten or twelve hours."—LYON.

"I derived some benefit from fastening a strip of cotton over my eyes, and another over my mouth, to keep off the burning air which parched my lungs. The burning East wind which was beginning to blow rendered the heat insufferable, and the scorching sand found its way into our eyes, in spite of the precautions which we took to exclude it. Tepid water was distributed, which we thought delicious, though it had little effect in quenching our thirst. My thirst was so tormenting that I found it impossible to get any sleep. My throat was on fire, and my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I lay as if expiring on the sand, waiting with the greatest impatience for the moment when we were to have our next supply of water. I thought of nothing but water—rivers, streams, rivulets, were the only ideas which presented themselves to my mind during this burning fever. In my impatience I cursed my companions, the country, the camels, and for anything I knew, the sun himself, who did not make sufficient speed to reach the horizon."—CAILLIE.

"The Simoum felt like the blast of a furnace. To describe this awful scourge of The Desert, defies all the powers of language. The pencil assisted by the pen might perhaps afford a faint idea of it, winged with the whirlwind and charioted with thunder, it urged its fiery course, blasting all nature with its death-fraught breath. It was accompanied by a line of vivid light, that looked like a train of fire, whose murky smoke filled the whole wide expanse, and made its horrors only the more vivid. The eye of man, and the voice of beast were both raised to heaven, and both then fell upon the earth. Against this sand tempest all the fortitude of man fails, and all his efforts are vain. To Providence alone must we look. It passed us, burying one of my camels. As soon as we rose from the earth, with uplifted hands for its preservation, we awoke to fresh horrors. Its parching tongue had lapped the water from our water-skins, and having escaped the fiery hour, we had to fear the still more awful death of thirst."—DAVIDSON.

[126] This disease is the Filaria Medinensis, or Guinea Worm. The rude Arabs give a sort of Shakesperian witches' receipt for the cure of this disease, such as the liver of a vulture, the brains of an hyæna, the dung of the ostrich, mixed with other wonderful ingredients. This reminds me of the receipt of my Ghadamsee Doctor for the cure of Night Blindness, which here followeth:—"Description of a remedy by which affliction (or blindness) of the sight is cured at night. Take the liver of a goat, or the liver of a camel, and cut off a piece of it, mince it small, and take also a couple of ? and reduce it to a fine powder, and rub them together, and place them on the fire so that the water boils or simmers, and then drop (or pour) the water on the eye, and it will straightway see."



CHAPTER XXXI.

FROM MISRATAH TO TRIPOLI.

The Establishment of Signor Regini.—Visit the Acting Kaed of Misratah.—Shabby Conduct of Mehemet Pasha to Regini.—Description of the Villages comprised within the Jurisdiction of Misratah.—Population and Condition of the Jews in Misratah and Tripoli.—Regini sighs for the honour of hoisting the Union Jack.—Village of Zeiten.—Leghma; and the tapping of the Date-Palm.—Corn Fields and Grain Culture in North Africa.—Manipulation.—Sahel or Salhin; its splendid Gardens.—The Eastern Terminus groups of Mount Atlas.—Ruins of Lebida; and other Ancient Ruins.—Monosyllabic Old Moor.—Meet the Bey of Misratah.—Wad Seid, and plain of El-Jumr.—The Sand-Storm.—Our Slaves' first sight of the Sea.—Said left behind.—Essnousee foiled in attempting to beat one of his Slaves.—Trait of the Tender Passion in our Troop of Slaves.—Result of my Observations on the Saharan Slave Traffic.—Gardens of Tajourah.—The Gardens of the Masheeah.—Distance, Time, and Expenses of my Tour.—Disposal of Said, and the Camel.

12th.—EASTER SUNDAY. It is a grand festa with Signor Regini, and his family are dressed out in their best. They are the only family of Christians in this town, but keep the festa with as much religious zest and zeal as if in Malta or Rome. Poor Regini gets only twelve dollars a month from the Pasha of Tripoli for his employment of quarantine agent, and is obliged to look after three ports, for Misratah has three ports, at a considerable distance from each other, as well as several hours' ride from the town. Visited with Regini the acting Kaed or Governor of this place, and brother of the Bey, now in Tripoli. The Kaed stared stupidly at me whilst relating to him some things about the Touaricks. He was astonished they treated me so well, instead of murdering me, as he thought they had a right, or ought to have done. This Moorish beast finished by consulting me respecting his health, and begging physic, but which I refused to give him, seeing his indisposition proceeded from sheer indolence. His people, or officers of the place, were all amazed at my travelling as I was, and wondered what I could be doing. Mr. Regini heard one say, "The Christian has written the country; the English are coming to take all this land." Another observed, "This Englishman is a dervish, and is mad. His friends send him here to get rid of him." I took no interest whatever in the interview, feeling thoroughly tired of my tour and the people. The Kaed had heard some merchants say, "The Touaricks are a people of one word," which he now repeated, and which was a good satire upon himself and his Moorish brethren, "A people of ten thousand words." The Kaed informed me of the safe arrival of Haj Ibrahim, and the rest of his party, at Tripoli.

Regini's house is a constant resort of visitors and idlers. Amongst the objects of attraction, is Mr. R.'s pretty little daughter, who turns the heads of all the Moors. Mr. R. says the Pacha is going to build him a larger house, and allow it him rent-free, as an increase of salary. This His Highness, indeed, promised to do. But Mehemet Pasha showed the usual and insulting duplicity of the Turk, for the Consul-General heard afterwards that, instead of giving Regini a new house, he increased the rent of his old one. This unhandsome conduct of the Pasha so enraged Colonel Warrington, that, on hearing it, after he had invited the Bashaw to dine with him at his garden, the Colonel determined to withdraw the invitation, or rather not give the dinner. So the Pasha's dining at the British garden did not come off, much to my annoyance, for I wished to have been present at the dinner. These little bits of Turkish duplicity irritate and annoy our Consuls more than acts of tyrants like Asker Ali.

Visited the environs in the evening. Picked up some chamomile flowers, which abound in the lanes and highways. The barilla plant is also very common; it is collected and burnt, and the ashes exported in considerable quantities. Several ponds of water are found during winter in this neighbourhood, which are frequented by numerous flights of wild-duck, affording capital game for the hungry sportsman. Date-palms are now in blossom, whose flowers are all at first encased in a pod. Essnousee tells me, Abd-El-Geleel destroyed the palms of Sockna by simply cutting off the tops or heads of the palms, in the same way as people do when they tap palms for leghma. Some of them grow again, others do not, it being all a matter of chance. The date-palm is most abundantly cultivated on the Tripoline Coast, supplying the people with a full third of their food.

13th.—Misratah is an aggregate or series of villages, scattered about to an extent of a full day's journey, containing about 12,000 inhabitants, two-thirds Moors, the rest Arabs, Negroes, and Jews. The houses and other buildings make but a mean appearance, built of mud and stones, and some of lime-mortar. There are a few Marabets shining beautifully white in the sun, with light and chaste cupola tops. A drawing of one of these is given, that of Sidi Salah. The Marabet is a common, but fair and picturesque, feature in coast scenery. The bazaar, or market of Misratah, is held three times a week, but in different places of the villages included within this circle of jurisdiction. The principal port is three or four hours from the central village, the inhabitants not enjoying an immediate view of the sea, so delightful on the North African Coast. The grand cultivation is dates, but not of good quality, then barley and wheat (the most of the former), olives, figs, and some other fruit-trees. Oxen, goats, and sheep, are in numbers, and there is a considerable export trade in hides and wool. The markets are pretty well stocked with provisions, and cheaper than in Tripoli. Nevertheless, the villages of Misratah are choked full of very poor destitute people, and during the past year, in the midst of comparative abundance, many of them lived almost entirely on herbs. These wretched creatures congregate in Misratah from all the neighbouring districts, the Gharian and Gibel mountains, the village of Touarghah, and other places. The same system of spoliation by Government is going on here as in other provinces of Tripoli, the inhabitants being reduced gradually to most complete beggary. Every year the number of poor increases, whilst the taxes on land, under the curse of Turkish oppression, as fatally increase, reducing all to serfdom, leaving not an acre of land in the hands of the people, excepting those lands protected by the sanctuaries of religion. The civil power in this country has no conscience; the people are alone protected from annihilation by their religion.

Fifty families of Jews are located in these villages, occupied as brokers and petty traders, or in making essences. They pay a poll-tax of a hundred mahboubs per annum to the Pasha. They have two synagogues, and a Rabbi superintending them. Rabbi Samuel says he has heard there are Jews in Soudan. Lyon has mentioned the same report, and locates Jews south from Timbuctoo, supposing them to have gone originally from Morocco. Many of the Tripoline mountains contain Jews, and in Misratah there are a hundred families. As a specimen of the state of Biblical learning and literature amongst these Jews, I give the following conversation I had with Rabbi Samuel. He explained the 53rd chap. of Isaiah as referring to another and a past suffering Messiah, the Messiah of Ephraim, the son of Ephraim, and not the son of David, who is to be the future and conquering Messiah. To Philip's question, "Of whom speaketh the prophet this?" &c. (Acts viii. 34), he candidly answered, acknowledging that the prophet spake not of himself, but the suffering Messiah. The epithets and , in Is. ix. 6, 7, the Rabbi explained, as denoting the reign of Messiah to be full of peace and happiness for all mankind, quoting Psalm lxxii., observing properly, the words first refer to Solomon, and then to the Messiah. Asking him for a passage of the Pentateuch, referring to the future state, he replied;—"Moses did not speak at all of a future state; Moses intended to have done so when he got to Jerusalem, and settled the people in the Holy Land; but having offended God, he was not permitted to enter there, and was prevented from communicating knowledge about the future world. But you will find in the commentaries all the information you require." He could not tell where the future state was spoken of in the prophets, so I pointed out to him Daniel xii. 2, 3. Rabbi Samuel now bestowed on me the honorary title of English Marabout, earnestly recommending me to call on Rabbi Jacob at Tripoli, the mighty scholar of the Regency. He added:—"The Mussulmans say that our Messiah will conquer them first; but afterwards, they (the Mussulmans) will recover their strength and dominion, and destroy us and our Messiah. You see they are idiots." So much for Jewish learning in Tripoli.

Signor Regini is an original in his way. Speaking of an old man about taking a young wife, he observed, "Growing old, he became young." Of himself, he says, "Noi siamo molto respetati qui (We are much respected here)."

"So you ought to be," I replied, "for I would not live here to be despised."

"Stop, Signore Inglese," he rejoined abruptly, "I am the first man here. You are a learned man, and have travelled all over the world, and you know Latin; 'Aut Cæsar, aut nullus,' that's my motto. I only want the flag here. Get me appointed British Consul. I don't want a salary. Then shall I be a greater man than the Bey of Misratah."

I promised, as in duty bound, after this sally of modest ambition, to mention his wish to the Consul-General. The fact is, Regini is a very deserving man, and could he hoist the Union Jack, might benefit British subjects and promote British interests at the same time that he gratified his own Cæsar-like ambition.

This afternoon we left Misratah for Tripoli, our last stage. We found the gardens of Misratah very agreeable, getting clear of them by night, and encamping in a hilly country, covered with the delicious green of spring, with nibbling snowy flocks scattered and feeding, and Arabs' tents pitched, "black, but comely." But I was surprised to see so few Arabs' tents and douwars in this Regency. In fact, the Arabs of Tripoli are nearly all located and confined to The Mountains.

14th.—Afternoon, arrived at Zeitin, a small village. The palm is abundant as usual, and the gardens are full of olive and other Barbary fruit-trees. On encamping, I purchased some Leghma——according to some philologists, "tears" of the palms, and others "foam," from the fermenting quality of the sap. At this season many trees are tapped, being, indeed, the tapping season. When a tree is tapped, a small hut of palm-branches, cut from off the tapped palm, is set up close to it, which is turned into a sort of tap-room, or boozing-place, for drinking the leghma, and half a dozen Moorish louting fellows are always seen idling and skulking about the hut, or sweltering with intoxication inside, as long as the tree yields the spirituous juice. A tree, if a good one, will yield its sap for two months, and sometimes a few days more. You can purchase a tree, tap it and drink of its sap at your pleasure, for only a couple of dollars. And for this trifle, people will often destroy their best palms. The leghma is pleasant when quite new or fresh; when a few days old it becomes very strong and acrid drinking, continually fermenting. Moors do not understand drinking leghma, wine or spirits, for their health, considering the object of drinking fermented liquor is not attained until they become intoxicated. In these palm-booths, or huts, the Moors occasionally bring their provisions, and here they will pass night and day for weeks together in dreamy drunken musings, each sot, shut up in himself, making himself by a drunken and delirious imagination, Kady, or Sheikh, or Sultan, or some mighty warrior, and all mankind his slaves and ardent worshippers, as the bent of mind wildly leads him. Moderation Moors cannot comprehend, they can neither drink moderately, nor eat moderately; they must either abstain altogether or eat or drink like beasts. Of course I speak of their general character. But such is the case with too many amongst us, as well as these semi-barbarians.

We encamped amidst palms and barley-fields. High wind from the east. The barley was getting ripe very fast, in some places being reaped. All these crops of grain are thin, the stalk of the barley short, the ears small—not the barley or wheat of England certainly. No part of North Africa furnishes such fine and heavy corn-fields as my own native county, Lincolnshire; I might, perhaps, add, no place in the world. The plains of Morocco furnish thousands of acres of barley[127], but all straggling and thinly growing. The wheat is the same. Add to which, you will find a North African corn-field full of weeds, herbs, and wild flowers.

15th.—Helping up my little Negro to a ride this morning, as the camel ascended a hillock he was pitched off in a summerset. A slave immediately got hold of him and began to stretch his neck for fear it was broken, and otherwise pull and manipulate him, holding him up by the head and neck. Manipulation and pulling and stretching are favourite appliances of remedy in all this part of Africa. Manipulation is frequently used at the baths, and is attended with surprising cures. Every muscle of the body is stretched, and rubbed, and coaxed. To burning, bleeding, and charms, some Moorish doctors add manipulation, as the fourth sovereign remedy. Early, we reached Sahel (Salhin?). These cultivated lands are a continuation of Zeiten; but Sahel is in a much higher state of cultivation. The golden harvest is nodding over Afric's sunny plains. Fields of ripe barley are waving in the wind, overshadowed with splendid palms of young and vigorous growth. Besides there are most beautiful olive plantations all around us. Essnousee, who now became a little more familiar, kept crying out to me with spontaneous admiration, "This is the new world (Dunyah Jedeed)!" The slave-driver had heard me praise the vast fields of fertility in America. Sahel, in fact, is a country of most vigorous and teeming fertility. But, to-day, from the camel's back, I saw the sea. How rejoiced I was, after nine months Ocean Desert-travelling, over sands and rocks, and naked sultry plains, suffering all sorts of privations and hardships, to see once more the world of waters! And this, notwithstanding it had been so often unfriendly to me in my various travellings by land and water. I kept straining (and pumping) my lungs to breathe its pure cool air. Sahel is of considerable extent, but has no nucleus of houses in the shape of a town, consisting merely of a series of small villages and detached houses, like our cottage groups and farms, but, of course, in Moorish style. Extremely warm to-day, though near the sea. Cleared the Sahel the afternoon, and, at night, encamped amidst the last groups of the Atlas, spreading and stretching eastwards. I had observed we were about to enter these terminus groups and links of the eastern Atlas chain, whilst at some distance, and easily distinguished them from those of the Saharan groups and ridges. Their appearance is strikingly different, being wooded and bristling on the sides, shooting up in craggy heights, hoary and white on the uppermost peaks and ridges, as if bitten by the cold and frost, and bared by the bleak winds of the sea. The Great Desert ranges, on the contrary, are naked as nakedness can be, dull, dreary, and dead, smoothed over as velvet, of black and purple hues, and look more like mountains which children might paint than the sterile realities of Old Sahara. Here, amidst the mountainous scenery of the coast, I could recognise many of the features of Virgil's description. (Æneidos b. iv.)

"Jamque volans apicem et latera ardua cernit Atlantis duri, clum qui vertice fulcit: Atlantis, cinctum assidue cui nubibus atris Piniferum caput et vento pulsatur et imbri; Nix humeros infusa tegit; tum flumina mento Præcipitant senis, et glacie riget horrida barba."

But this grand portrait of Old Atlas, whose brawny shoulders support our various globe, can only be realized (during winter) in the Morocco chain of the Atlas, whose highest peak is Miltsin, in Jibel Thelge, or "Mountain of Snow." This peak, some 15,000 feet in height, is near the city of Morocco itself. Dr. Shaw, who never visited Morocco, was puzzled to apply this classic description to the Algerian chains of Atlas. The Atlas Chain, which here terminates eastward, strikes out into the ocean just below Santa Cruz, in Morocco, being its western termination; but, in Tunis, at many places, it is interrupted in its connecting links. I was delighted to find a number of beautiful fruit-gardens, so many Hesperian spots, in the small valleys of these Atlas groups, observing for the first time the vine cultivated in vineyards. Several pleasant fields of the vine adorned the valleys. But the date-palm disappears in these mountains, whilst the olive increases, crowning the lower groups of Atlas, or spreading in large fields in the valleys. Patches of wheat and barley are also cultivated on the mountain sides. Arab stone-built villages are seen scattered through the rising groups and valleys. I am told these gardens belong to people in Tripoli. They are the sweetest, prettiest, loveliest little things which I have seen in all my nine months' tour. Oh, that these valleys were full of them!

At noon, we passed the ruins of Lebida (or Lebdah) on our right, situate on the sea-shore, several miles out of the line of route. What nonsense to believe Cicerones in these parts. Regini told me I should be sure to see Lebida, for it was in the road—that is to say, five or six miles off, behind sand-hills. The whole of the ground, from Sahel to these first groups of Eastern Atlas, is scattered over with Roman and Greek ruins, and, as it happens, there is a huge piece of an ancient building in the road itself, apparently a temple. I was too weak, however, to descend from the camel, to look closely at it. Many of these mountain-ridges are crowned with ancient forts, and farther on, when we arrived close by the sea-shore, we observed the remains of a Roman road,—a firm broad layer of cement and small stones embedded in the shifting sands. This was making a road in a business-like, dominion-like style, and worthy of those once mighty masters of the world. In our traverse of the mountains we met the Bey of Misratah returning from Tripoli, full of the confidence of his Turkish master the Pasha, and very splendidly attired though en route, with some dozen mounted Moors, all very gay, showing themselves off on their prancing barbs. Essnousee, with all our people, descended from their camels to pay their respects to these big-wigs, and made them a present of some crushed Sockna dates, called Krum. Here new cavalry horses were feeding, attended by the Nitham, or new troops. The Turks in Tripoli have but one small troop of horse.

The old Moor with one slave, and I frequently had some serious talk together, but I could seldom draw him out. I spoke to him about Said to-day.

Myself.—"I don't know what to do with Said. If I take him to my country, the cold will hurt him, and perhaps he'll die."

Old Moor.—"Rubbee (God)!"

Myself.—"I thought of giving him my camel, and letting him turn camel-driver; but the Arabs are such thieves, they will soon steal the camel from him."

Old Moor.—"Rubbee (God)!"

Myself.—"He's such a goose, too, he gives away all he has."

Old Moor.—"Rubbee (God)!"

Myself.—"Perhaps I shall leave Said at Tripoli."

Old Moor.—"If it please God."

16th.—All the morning we continued to traverse the Atlas groups. I found the lesser summits of these groups also strikingly contrasted with the Saharan ridges. Here were heights crowned with fresh and green cultivation. On the contrary, the Saharan mountain tops are covered with lava and columnar green stone, and overstrewn with other loose stones, forming an extensive black and dreary plain. At noon, we got upon undulating ground, a great part of which was under cultivation, with here and there sheep and cattle grazing. Encamped in the Wady Seid (Zag). This undulating ground is sometimes called the fertile plain of El-Jumr. Wady Seid is now quite dry, but evidently has a strong and large current during the winter rains. In the course of this day's march, crossed many small but deep dry ravines, all of which have water in the winter. No hares or gazelles were started in these few days' journey from Misratah, the country being generally populated, but birds increased on every side. Noticed here, as in Tunis, a great variety of beetles. North Africa, indeed, is the classic land of beetles; also a few snakes and many lizards were observed. Our people now all shaved their heads and washed, changing their linen in preparation for our entering Tripoli to-morrow or next day. A Moor will wear a shirt three months, an Arab, six months or a year. They cannot comprehend the necessity of the frequent changes of linen by Europeans. And yet, Moors will take a bath once or twice a day, whilst they re-put on their linen for three months together.

17th.—When we started this morning we fully expected to reach Tripoli in the evening, at least I did, leaving the ghafalah at Tajourah. But, after we had marched a few hours, the sky was suddenly overcast, and the wind blew until it became a horrible tempest—

"Sudden the impetuous hurricanes descend, Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play, Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains away."

We got safely over Wady Rumel, whose bed is covered with reeds, having besides a good deal of stagnant water. My nagah forded the river as well as any of the camels, if not better. We now entered the sands of the sea-shore, and after two hours sat down to eat a few dates. We resumed our march through the sands which line the margin of the sea, the wind meanwhile blowing a perfect gale.

Now I witnessed what I had not seen in my nine months' Saharan travel, a veritable sandstorm. The wind so filled the air with sand, that we could hardly see, or get on groping our way, and we were obliged to hold on our camels, for fear of being blown off. Our poor slaves shrunk back aghast from the tempest, whilst the sea now and then broke open upon them through the sand groups, showing, to their amazement, its most tempestuous aspect.

Assuredly this, their first sight of the sea, will be associated in memory hereafter with the greatest and most cruel sufferings of our poor slaves, for to-day they suffered unusually from the wind and cold—the tempest of sand blinding them, and the miserable creatures falling continually on the wayside. I secured my eyes and face from the sand by tying round them a dark silk handkerchief, through which I saw my way without getting eyes, ears, and mouth full of sand. All our animals, as well as our people, had a thick coating of sand round their eyes, the cold and wind making their eyes run, and the water collecting the sand. Unable to proceed farther, we were obliged to encamp about 2 P.M., close by the sea-shore, under the shadow of a great cliff, the spray of the waves washing our feet and resting-place, and the noise of their chafing and roaring stunning our ears, whilst the sand-storm worked its way of desolation over our heads. The slaves surprised by this new sight of the sea, lashed into its wildest form, stared with wonder and horror at the tempest-tossed waters; some grinned and chattered with their teeth; others looked savage and moody, as if asking, "Whether the devils of the white men inhabited these waters?" whilst others, cowered down and sinking, hid their faces under their tattered clothes. I love to look upon the sea in its wildest shape, possessed by the tempest, and am disposed to be very poetical about it, but, mind you, rather from the land, than pitching over its briny foamy billows. We had some rain, and the cold was intense during the night. In very deed, it seemed as if heaven and earth were conspiring against the wretched, slaves the nearer they approached the end of their sufferings! Still there was an end of this, as of all things, and God sent us fair weather the next day. I was grievously afflicted about Said this night. He had suddenly disappeared during the sandstorm, and what had become of him I could not tell. I kept asking myself, "Whether he was doomed to perish at the gates of Tripoli, on his return, after his painfully wearying journey?" I sent out people on all sides. No tidings were brought of him. All was a blank...... We called, and called...... No answer.

18th.—Started early, but without Said. I began to be overwhelmed with sadness at his unaccountable disappearance. My impression was, when more calm, that he had overslept himself during the day, whilst we rested an hour to eat a few dates on the sand, and the slaves walking with him, or his companions, allowed him to sleep on without waking him. I missed him immediately, but was told he was a short way behind and would soon be up to us. As he was in the habit of loitering behind in this way, I saw no reason for not believing what the slaves said. However, I lectured the slaves and all the people, knowing he could not have been left behind without some trick, or connivance on their part, threatening to bring them up before the Pasha. This startled them, and they were all uneasy. Before, they seemed to care no more about it than if a dog had been left behind. But at noon, Said was brought up by an Arab who had found him on the roadside, lost and wandering about. He pretended he had been sick and stayed behind voluntarily, afraid to accuse the slaves to me of their unkindness in leaving him sleeping on the sands. Said knew very well we had fed them and clothed them often en route, and the sick had often been placed on my camel, whilst I walked wearily over Desert. I really felt deeply wounded at this ingratitude of the slaves, but I believe it was a trick planned by Essnousee, to give us annoyance. Poor Said had slept all night in open Desert, amidst sand and wind, and cold and rain, with nothing to eat. His lips were blanched and his eyes streamed with water. I got him placed on a camel.

The wind continues to blow high, and the storm still lingers late, scattering about sand. Several of the female slaves are placed on the camels from utter exhaustion. Others are cruelly driven on. Just as we arrive at Tajourah, a negress of tender age falls down from exhaustion, bleeding copiously from the mouth. The Arabs on foot cannot get her along. Essnousee, seeing this, called out, "Beat her, beat her." But the people not obeying his brutal orders, he immediately jumped off the camel, taking with him a thick stick to beat her. As soon as he did this, not being able to restrain myself, I instantly also jumped off my camel, and ran after him, taking with me a stick, a match for his. When I got up to him, surrounded with a group of people, some of whom were from the neighbouring village, all striving to save the girl from his stick, I called out, "Now, stop, stop your stick, we are now in Tripoli; no more whipping on the road," holding up my stick and assuming a threatening attitude, determined to resist the slave-driver at all risks. Seeing this, he cowered back at once, and screamed out, "Oh, it's a she-devil!" The people now took courage against the monster, and said, "No, no, she's exhausted with fatigue (with the way)." Essnousee then had her carried on the back of a camel to the village, and afterwards she continued riding to Tripoli. I was just in the humour for giving this miscreant slave-driver a thrashing, and taking on him satisfaction (but a millionth part indeed), for the torments he had, during forty days inflicted upon these wretched slaves, and should have done so had he attempted to beat the poor exhausted bleeding negress. I felt myself secure enough at the entrance of the gardens of Tripoli, and could well stand the risk of being brought up before the Pasha for flagellating an honourable man-dealer.

We sat down under some olives a minute, ate a few dates, drank a little water, and then entered the gardens of Tajourah, which offered nothing new, except that they were more richly cultivated than most of those we had seen on our way. Threading our way amidst the mud garden walls, I was gratefully soothed with the sight of increasing culture, and population. A sweet trait of the tender passion must be here recorded as taking place amidst this havoc of human cruelty, perpetrated on our sable brothers and sisters. At the side of my camel were two young things, a lad and a girl, who every now and then, when the Moors turned their heads, watching their opportunity, kept locking one another's fingers together. The lad now started off as if shot from a bow, and instantly brought some beans from a neighbouring garden, and these he presented gracefully to his lady-love. With such a little innocent incident, and there were many of the kind, I bid an eternal farewell to this slave caravan, by stating succinctly the results of my observations on the traffic in slaves, as carried on in The Great Desert of Sahara.

1st.—The slave-traffic is on the increase in The Great Desert; (though temporarily decreasing on the route of Bornou).

2nd.—Many slaves are flogged to death en route from Ghat to Tripoli, and others are over-driven or starved to death.

3rd.—The female slaves are subjected to the most obscene insults and torments by the Arab and Moorish slave-drivers; whilst the youngest females (children of four or five years of age) are violated by their brutal masters, the Tibboos, in coming from Bornou to Ghat, or Fezzan.

4th.—Slave children, of five years of age, walk more than one hundred and thirty days over The Great Desert, and other districts of Africa, before they can reach the slave-markets of Tripoli to be sold.

5th.—Three-fourths of the slave-traffic of The Great Desert and Central Africa, are supported by the money and goods of European merchants, resident in Tunis, Tripoli, Algiers, and Egypt.

6th.—A considerable traffic in slaves is carried on in the Southern Provinces of Algeria, under French protection, by the Soufah and Shânbah Arabs.

7th.—At present there are no wars carried on in Central Africa, except those for the capture of slaves, to supply the markets of Tripoli and Constantinople; (so far as my information goes).

8th.—Slaves are the grand staple commerce of the Soudan and Bornou caravans, and without slaves this commerce could hardly exist. Twenty years ago, the Sheikh of Bornou reiterated to our countrymen; "You say that we are all the sons of one father; you say also, that the sons of Adam should not sell one another; and you know every thing. God has given you great talents. What are we to do? The Arabs who come here will have nothing else but slaves. Why do you not send us merchants?"

The gardens of Tajourah are about one and a half hours' ride. There was then the break of an hour, where are pools of stagnant salt-water, with snipes running about. Afterwards we entered the gardens of the Masheeah, amongst which is the British garden, or residence of Colonel Warrington. The Masheeah is a series of mud-walled gardens, or small fields of corn, fruit, and vegetable cultivation, and houses within the enclosures. Some of them not unlike town farms. The whole stretches some ten miles along the sea-shore. The population of the Masheeah, including Tajourah, is equal to that of the city of Tripoli itself, if not greater. These suburban villages have their mosques and religious establishments. They have besides a separate Governor from that of the town, and their inhabitants exercise great political influence during a revolution. In the last, these people supported one Bashaw, or pretender against the other, or that of the city. The Masheeah is two-thirds of a mile from the gates of Tripoli. The houses and gardens being situate mostly on the east and southeastern suburbs of the city.

We arrived in the neighbourhood of the British Consul's garden an hour before sunset. On the road, near it, are great gaping holes, very convenient for tumbling in on a dark night. These holes were dug years ago to store grain in. The Tripoline Government thinks it not worth while to fill them up. Immense fig-trees have grown up in some of these holes. I deemed it prudent to wait near the Consular Gardens till dark, having rather a dervish appearance, and being without an European hat, cap, or shoes. Whilst waiting in a neighbouring garden, a Moor came up to me and talked, and then brought me a little cuscasou. I felt sensibly this trifling manifestation of hospitality on my return.

It is now just eight months and a half since I left Tripoli for Ghadames. I have passed eighty days, or nine hundred and sixty hours, out of this on the camel's back, and made a tour in The Sahara of some one thousand six hundred miles. I reckon my distances and days thus, averaging one with another:—

DAYS' JOURNEY.

From Tripoli to Ghadames 15 days From Ghadames to Ghat 20 " From Ghat to Mourzuk 15 " From Mourzuk to Tripoli 30 " — Total 80 "

These eighty, days, at the rate of twenty miles per day, make 1600 miles. I walked every day, one day with another, about two hours, which, at the rate of two and a half miles per hour, makes the distance of four hundred miles that I went on foot through the Great Desert.

I wore out two or three pairs of shoes, but not one suit of clothes. My Moorish articles of dress I gave to Said, except the burnouse, which I gave away afterwards in Algeria. My whole expenses, including servant, camel, provisions, lodging, Moorish clothes, &c., &c., for the nine months' tour, did not exceed fifty pounds' sterling, and nearly half of this was given away in presents to the people and the various chieftains, who figure in the journal. I am sure, for I did not keep an exact account, my expenses did not exceed the round number of fifty by more than half a dozen pounds. I hope, therefore, I shall not be blamed for want of economy in Saharan travelling, especially when it is seen that the Messrs. Lyon and Ritchie expedition cost Government three thousand (3000) pounds' sterling, whose journey did not extend further south than mine, nor did they, indeed, penetrate so completely into The Sahara as I have done. Capt. Lyon likewise writes, that without "additional pecuniary supplies," he could not think of proceeding farther into the Interior, and accordingly returned. But were a person to ask me these questions, "Did you spend enough? Did you supply all your necessary wants? Could you safely recommend others to follow your example?" I must reply negatively to them all. This tour, to have been performed properly, as undertaken only by a private individual, ought to have cost at least one hundred pounds. The reader will, perhaps, be inquisitive to know, at whose expense the journey was accomplished. On this score, I am also disposed to be as communicative as on other points, for I do not wish this or that patronage to be suspected, although certainly the spending of fifty or sixty pounds' sterling is not a very mighty business. Well, then, the expenses were paid out of the funds of a salary granted for correspondence by one of the London newspapers. So much for the aid supplied by the Fourth Estate for the prosecution of philanthropic objects and discoveries in Africa. Let our printers' devils have their due in these days of universal patronage and pretension.

I now lay down and stretched myself at full length upon the fresh herbage under a sheltering palm, watching with a silent melancholy the last departing rays of the sun. I then thought over all my journey, beginning with the beginning and ending with the end, all the incidents of the route from first to last, and all the privations and sufferings I had undergone—praying to and thanking the Almighty for having delivered me from every ill and every danger.

POSTSCRIPT.—Said, on my leaving Tripoli, was committed to the care of Signor Merlato, the Austrian Consul, who promised to find him employment, or keep him in his own service. My poor camel, for which, were I a poet, I would chant a plaintive strain of adieu! I was obliged to sell. The Bengazi Arab who bought her promised me, however, to treat her lightly, and only to use her to ride upon.

"The world and I fortuitously met, I owed a trifle, and have paid the debt."

FOOTNOTES:

[127] On the plains of Angadda the French troops, at the battle of Isly, passed two or three days together through fields of barley.

THE END.

LONDON: HARRISON AND CO., PRINTERS, 45, ST. MARTIN'S LANE.



Transcriber's Notes:

1. On page 249 of Vol. II, there is a possible line missing. A period has been changed to a comma & marked. See the original page image for details.

2. in dates has been italicised consistently.

3. There are numerous spelling inconsistencies in proper and place names as well as within accented characters. These have been left as printed.