Return to Amsmiz — Arround villagers in trouble — Pains and pleasures of a botanist — Ride across the plain — Mzouda — Experiences of a Governor in Marocco — Hospitable chief of Keira — A village in excitement — Arrival at Seksaoua — Fresh difficulties as to our route — A faithful black soldier — Rock vegetation at Seksaoua — Ascent of a neighbouring mountain — View of the Great Atlas — Absence of perpetual snow — Return of our envoy from Mtouga — Pass leading to Tarudant — Native names for the mountains — Milhaïn — Botanising in the rocks.

The morning hours of May 23 were devoted to the necessary work at our collections of the preceding day; but before our departure we once more took a short ramble through the ground surrounding the village. With a single exception, all the plants seen were species common to the Spanish peninsula, two or three being characteristic of Central Spain. Apart from the style of building and the dress of the inhabitants, a stranger transported to the spot might easily suppose himself somewhere in Southern Europe, though closer examination would suggest differences to the naturalist. At noon we started on the way to Amsmiz, halting at the torrent in the bottom of the valley to secure specimens of two very fine and undescribed plants, both very troublesome to the collectors. One was a spiny Genista, with very numerous, stiff, intricate branches; the other a fine thistle, five or six feet high, whose long woolly leaves were beset with sharp, slender, golden spines, fully an inch in length.

Without much further delay, we retraced the track that we had followed on the morning of the 21st. We were once more struck by the remarkable coolness of the climate of this region as compared with somewhat similar positions in higher latitudes on the north and east sides of the Mediterranean. Although the sun at noon now approached within less than 15 degrees of the zenith, the temperature in the shade was pleasantly cool, scarcely rising above 70° F. At the same season, and at a greater height, on the Lebanon we have seen the thermometer stand above 80° in the shade by day, and scarcely fall to 70° at night. This is mainly due to the cool winds that prevail along the coast, and extend some way inland, though not much felt in summer in the city of Marocco. As we rode along the eastern flank of the valley, and down the slopes above Amsmiz, we were pleasantly fanned by a NW. breeze that often lasts throughout the day, but subsides at night.

On the brow of the declivity overlooking Amsmiz, we met a messenger from Arround, our stopping-place at the head of the Aït Mesan valley, come to implore our protection for the unfortunate inhabitants, whose appeal to us had only brought them into fresh trouble. The story had of course been reported to the Vice-Governor (El Graoui’s deputy) with the circumstance of the sacrifice of the sheep. He had resented this attempt to escape from his authority, had had some of the suppliants severely beaten, and sent two more men of the village to prison. It seemed very doubtful whether any interference on our part might not merely aggravate the condition of these unfortunate people. We promised, however, to do what we could for them; and before we left Mogador it was reported, whether truly or falsely, that we had been successful in our intercession.

On returning to our camp at Amsmiz we found work in abundance ready to hand. Our precious collections from the Aït Mesan valley, including, as they did, the most interesting results of our expedition, had been lying for three days untouched; and it was necessary to go through them all again, putting into separate parcels those that were dry and those still requiring pressure between dry paper. With the exception of half an hour given to another interview with the friendly Kaïd of Amsmiz, we were thus occupied until long after midnight. Although our store of drying-paper was large, the demand often exceeded the supply, and many a friendly contest arose as to respective rights of property in parcels of soiled paper, here priceless, which elsewhere would have seemed of no value. Those who have had experience in this line know that the labour of a botanical collector is not light, and in truth it would be almost intolerable if it were not for its compensating pleasures. It often happened that the solitary candle was in use throughout the entire night, Ball working till two o’clock or later, when Hooker would rise, more or less refreshed, and keep up work till daylight.

But in the pursuits of a naturalist there are abundant sources of satisfaction not suspected by the uninitiated. These are not merely derived from the objects themselves, suggesting as they often do interesting trains of thought and speculation; there are further springs of keen enjoyment in the countless impressions with which they are linked by the subtle influence of association. Much of the pleasure that an artist, however unskilled, derives from travel, arises from the power of each sketch to bring back again to the mind the original scene of which it is but the imperfect transcript. If he be active and industrious, he may preserve a dozen such keys to the impressions of each day’s journey. But to the botanist almost every specimen is indissolubly linked in the memory with the spot where it was collected; and as he goes through the produce of his day’s work, every minute detail is vividly presented to the mind, along with the wider background that lay behind the original picture. The wonder and awe that dwell around the mountain fastnesses, the consolation of the forest glade, the indefinable grandeur of the desert plain, nay, even the bleak solitariness of northern moorland and morass—these dominant impressions suggested by the aspects of nature are varied and enriched for the naturalist by the myriad phases of beauty that are disclosed to the eye of the observer. The glory of colour in the gentian and saxifrage and golden Alyssum, and the other bright creatures that haunt the mountain tops; the tender grace of the delicate ferns that dwell in the rocky clefts; the teeming life of the warm woodland; the strange beauty of the unaccustomed forms that spring up in the desert solitudes; the purple glow of the heath relieving the sombreness of the leaden sky, and the delicate structures of the Drosera and Menyanthes, and bog-asphodel, and many another inhabitant of our northern bogs—these and countless other images are instantaneously revived by contact with the specimen that grew beside them. Strangest of all is, perhaps, the enduring nature of this connection. Often does it happen, as many a botanist can testify, that after a lapse of a quarter, nay, even half, a century, the sight of a specimen will bring back the picture, seemingly effaced long ago, of its original home.

We were on foot again at 5.30 A.M., May 24, and the order for departure went forth. But, as usual, there were unexpected causes for delay. Many sick came to invoke Hooker’s medical skill, some trifling presents were to be distributed, and finally word was brought that the Kaïd meant to accompany us for some distance on our day’s journey, and it was necessary to await his appearance. Among the articles provided for presents we had included scissors and needles; but such things, especially the needles, were everywhere disregarded by the natives, whether Moor or Shelluh; and it appeared that the art of sewing, as well as every other occupation requiring the slightest manual dexterity, is—at least in country places—exclusively practised by the Jews; to them, accordingly, such gifts were very welcome. In the larger towns there are, of course, many handicrafts, and notably the making of slippers and boots, practised by the Moors; but such trades are for the most part hereditary in certain families, and the ordinary Moor affects to despise all occupations of the kind.

At half-past eight the Kaïd appeared, mounted on a strong serviceable horse; and, everything being ready, we rode down the steep bank above which stands the town of Amsmiz, and, after following the torrent for a short distance, reascended to about the same level above the left bank. We now found ourselves on the verge of a wide open plain, sloping gently from south to north, and our course to Mzouda—the next stage in our journey—lay a little north of due west, while the outer range of the mountains trended away to S.W. We had been led to suppose that Mzouda lay, like Amsmiz, at the foot of the Great Atlas, and might therefore serve as starting-point for another excursion into its recesses; but it was now clear that it must stand far out in the plain, many miles from the nearest range of hills. We were somewhat comforted, however, by the positive assurance that Seksaoua, the next stopping-place beyond Mzouda, stands close to the mountains at the opening of a considerable valley, and was therefore a promising spot for our purposes.

The difficulty of getting correct information in such a country as this, as daily experience proved to us, is one of the most serious difficulties of the traveller, and depends quite as much on the incapacity of the natives as on the habitual suspicion with which all strangers are regarded. One day when Kaïd el Hasbi appeared to be in unusual good-humour we were endeavouring to obtain from him information as to some place on our route, and the interpreter being told to ask if he could make the matter clearer by reference to the cardinal points, he answered in a tone of contempt, ‘Does he take me for the captain of a steamer?’

After riding with us for two or three miles the Kaïd of Amsmiz bade us a friendly farewell; and we continued in our course across the plain, with occasional halts, in order more closely to examine the vegetation, which was here less varied and interesting than usual. Most of the surface was under grain crops—chiefly wheat and barley—now ripe, and in great part cut and carried away. In the drier waste tracts we once more came upon the characteristic vegetation of the plains, Acacia, Zizyphus Lotus, Rhus pentaphylla, and Withania frutescens being the prevailing shrubs. Of herbaceous plants Elæoselinum meoides, and other large Umbelliferæ, with Compositæ of the thistle tribe, were most conspicuous.

In Beaudouin’s map the chief branch of the Oued Nfys is shown as flowing parallel to the Atlas range from the south-west of Amsmiz, and receiving as tributaries the Amsmiz torrent and the broad stream that we had crossed near Gurgouri. On this day we satisfied ourselves that this representation is erroneous. The unanimous statements of the natives, confirmed by our own observations, proved that all the waters flowing northward from the mountains between Amsmiz and the borders of Mtouga are united in the stream that we had traversed at Sheshaoua on its way to the main river Tensift. The practice of intercepting the streams from the Atlas, and carrying them across the plain through irrigation channels below the surface, makes it extremely difficult to unravel the hydrography of this region.

About noon we reached the boundary that separates the districts of Amsmiz and Mzouda, and agreed to the suggestion of a mid-day halt under trees near a large village, of which, as we learned, many of the inhabitants are Jews. From early morning the clouds had been gathering along the mountain range, and by this time had quite covered the sky. The temperature was unusually low, not rising above 62° F. in the shade, and our hard work during most of the preceding night supplies the only excuse for the fact that, after a light luncheon, we both fell fast asleep, until aroused by the information that it was two o’clock, and high time to continue our journey. The flora being somewhat monotonous, we did not, perhaps, lose much by this unusual neglect of duty; but we remembered with regret that we had not ascertained to what species the tamarisk tree belonged under which we had taken our rest.

The boundary between Amsmiz and Mzouda is here formed by a torrent bed, now nearly dry, called by our escort Asif el Mel. This stream, as was agreed on all hands, joins those farther west that run by Sheshaoua to the Oued Tensift. As we rode onward across the plain several heavy showers passed over, which thoroughly drenched the scantily clothed men of our party, without at all quenching their habitual good-humour, but the soldiers were well provided with woollen coverings that kept them tolerably dry. There was little attempt at collecting-plants during the afternoon, as it requires a strong inducement to make a horseman whose outer clothing is thoroughly wet set foot to the ground. We found the village of Mzouda rather different in appearance from those we had hitherto seen. The houses—small cubical blocks built of clay dried in the sun—were less solid than the rough stone dwellings of the Atlas mountaineers, but much superior to the miserable huts of the Arab tribes in the plain of Marocco; and instead of the unsightly piles of thorny branches commonly used by the latter, these were enclosed within massive hedges of Opuntia whose dimensions showed that they were of considerable age.

As usual Kaïd el Hasbi had ridden forward with one of the soldiers to present the letter to the Governor, and to announce our arrival; and when, about 6 P.M., we reached the kasbah, quite a mile from the village, we received a message inviting us to take up our quarters within the building. As the ground outside was already wet, and the evening sky threatened more rain, we at once accepted the offer, and were conducted to two small but clean-looking rooms in a square tower that formed one of the angles of the building. Between the care of the small collections made during the day, and writing up our notes, and a frugal supper, the time was fully occupied until 10 P.M., when by previous arrangement we paid our visit to the Governor.

We found a spare-looking man of serious mien, quite devoid of the coarse, overfed, sensual aspect common among the men in authority in Marocco. The usual conversation as to the objects of our journey, led to an assurance that the district under his jurisdiction did not extend to the higher peaks of the Atlas, or, as it was expressed, ‘did not go to the snow.’ This may not improbably have been quite true, but our experience of El Hasbi’s machinations made us now very incredulous as to such statements. It was, however, obvious that Mzouda was not a convenient centre for mountain excursions, and we made no objection to the proposal that we should on the following day proceed to Seksaoua, which stands close to the foot of the mountains.

When we came to know more of his history, we found no cause to wonder at the grave and depressed demeanour of our host. He had succeeded to the government of his native district in early life, and had held it for many years when he was invited by the Sultan to Fez. On his arrival he was thrown into a dungeon where he had remained ten years, frequently subjected to torture, until so much of the wealth he was supposed to have amassed during his administration had been disgorged as satisfied the demands of the sovereign or some ruling favourite; and then, being released, he was sent back again to govern his district with the agreeable prospect of renewing the same experience after some uncertain interval. If actual fact in this country did not supply frequent proof, it would seem scarcely credible that the attractions of power and comparative wealth should induce men to face such a terrible, yet almost inevitable, future.

The sky had cleared during the night, but the morning of May 25 was unpromising. At 8 A.M., shortly before we started, the thermometer marked only 65° F., although our observations showed that in our yesterday’s ride of rather more than 20 miles we had descended fully 1,000 feet, the height of the kasbah above the sea being calculated at 2,367 feet. The night had not been altogether pleasant, for, in spite of insect powder, the bugs had made a vigorous and successful attack, and we should have preferred to start at an earlier hour. But as usual Kaïd el Hasbi stood in the way. He was quite determined not to let the unbelieving strangers put him to the slightest inconvenience that could be avoided.

Before we started the Governor sent Hooker a present of 20 dollars, which was of course immediately returned. The poor man doubtless thought it well to lose no chance of propitiating any influence that could possibly be of avail in the hour of future need. With the same object, he took the opportunity of sending through Abraham a dog to Mr. Carstensen at Mogador, and doubtless made presents to the officers of our escort.

After leaving the kasbah we rode through a narrow belt of tilled land, and soon reached the verge of a tract of open country remaining in a state of nature, with but few and scattered traces of population or cultivation. In some parts the soil was stony, and the presence of Arthrocnemum and other Salsolaceous bushes indicated the presence of soluble salts, but in others the absence of cultivation was probably due only to the want of irrigation. There can be little doubt that by a more skilful distribution of the drainage from the northern slopes of the Great Atlas, the area of land producing human food might be largely increased.

Our course lay between WSW. and SW., and we observed as we advanced that in that direction the outer ranges of hills did not rise so nearly parallel to the axis of the main chain as they do in the districts lying between Tasseremout and Amsmiz. A very considerable mass, extending northward as a promontory from the main range, became gradually more conspicuous as we advanced towards it, while a minor mass lying much nearer to us was seen on our left. About noon we approached the latter range in which the stratification appeared very irregular with a prevailing southward dip, and the strike NE. to SW. At its western extremity this range showed a line of steep cliffs, reminding us of those near Tasseremout, with the difference that the strata were here crumpled or contorted in a remarkably uniform manner, the same curvature of the folds being repeated nine or ten times. The compressing force must here have operated nearly in the direction of the axis of the main chain, and in a distance of some two miles the beds whose exposed edges we viewed must have originally covered a space of nearly twice that length.

As often happens when the air is nearly saturated with moisture, the horizon was to-day remarkably clear, and we made out the position of the city of Marocco, more than 40 miles distant, and bearing nearly due NE. About due north, and not quite so distant, rose the hills near Sheshaoua, and about midway between them a remarkable conical hill seen from near Misra ben Kara.

Before 2 P.M. we approached a large kasbah at a place called Douerani. When we afterwards learned that this belonged to the same chief who hospitably received M. Balansa, and assisted him in exploring the neighbourhood until orders from Marocco cut his stay short, we had some doubt whether this was not the place described by him as Keira. An examination of his map and the account of his expedition leads us, however, to the conclusion that Keira must be the name of another habitation belonging to the same chief, lying a few miles farther north, and that the mountain called Djebel Aït Ougurt, ascended by M. Balansa, must be some eminence in the range near at hand which we had just before been scrutinising. We now perceived that there is a considerable valley or depression lying between this outer range and the main mass of the Atlas, which is, indeed, indicated in M. Balansa’s sketch map.

Before long we received a courteous message inviting us to stop at the kasbah; but as it seemed clear that Seksaoua promised more easy access to the higher mountains, we had no hesitation in adhering to the plan already fixed, and declining the proffered hospitality. It was not without regret that we adhered to our resolution, when the chief came out with a numerous suite to visit us at our halting-place close to the kasbah. The friendly air of the worthy old man, which evidently made a deep impression on M. Balansa, was not without effect upon us. Failing to induce us to stop on our way, he sent an ample mona, including, besides tea and sugar, a parcel of candles of French manufacture, the more acceptable as our supply threatened to run short before we could reach Mogador.

Our halting-place was in a pleasant spot overlooking the broad bed of the Oued Usbi, which appears to unite the torrent from a considerable valley south of Seksaoua with several minor streams from the Atlas, and to be the main affluent of the river of Sheshaoua. The weather had improved, and the thermometer stood at about 70° F. in the shade, our height above the sea being 2,671 feet (814·3 m.). Spiny Compositæ belonging to the genera Scolymus, Echinops, Cnicus, and Onopordum, were the most conspicuous plants; but, as no species not already gathered were seen here, we dispensed ourselves from collecting and drying these troublesome inmates of the herbarium.

It was near 4 P.M. when we started for Seksaoua, and, after crossing the Oued Usbi, held on in a SW. direction nearly parallel to its course. In little more than an hour we came to a large village, which was the scene of unexpected commotion. As our cavalcade was seen to approach, some natives ran on to announce the fact to the villagers, and by the time we reached the first houses the whole population turned out, and a scene ensued of which no description can give an idea. The men who lined the way on either side shouted with emulous vehemence and fury guttural sentences, illustrated by frantic gesticulations, while the women and children kept up a deafening accompaniment of shrieking, wailing, and howling, and the whole formed a scene worthy of Pandemonium. It seemed sufficiently clear that no hostile intentions against us were expressed, but amidst the horrible din and confusion it was some minutes before we were able to learn from Abraham the meaning of this wild excitement. It appeared that, as constantly happens among the mountain people, there was a feud between this and a neighbouring tribe; the village had been attacked, or at least approached by the enemy, and one of the villagers had been shot.

It was evident from the first that our brave escort felt extremely uneasy; but when it became clear that the object of the people was to invoke the protection of the soldiers of the Sultan against further molestation, our two Kaïds for once thoroughly agreed on a policy of strict neutrality, and in desiring to get as soon as possible out of harm’s way. As for us, it may be feared that we failed to maintain the gravity which, to the Oriental mind, befits persons of distinction. Just when the confusion was at its worst, and before we well understood what it portended, we happened to look up to where on the top of the nearest house two or three storks, each poised on one leg, were looking down on the frantic crowd. There was something irresistibly ludicrous in the contrast between the air of solemnity that characterises these birds and the insane excitement of the human crowd below that set us off in a peal of laughter, which we found it hard to tune down to decent seriousness.

The uppermost anxiety of our escort being to get away from any chance of being mixed up in the local troubles, they proposed to push on as far as possible towards the mouth of the valley, and we were all the better pleased to find ourselves as near as possible to the mountains in which we still hoped to effect another excursion. It was not, however, practicable to go far. About two miles above the village a rocky spur projects from the mass of the Atlas towards the plain, and is backed by a mountain mass rising some 2,500 or 3,000 feet above the valley. At the eastern base of this rocky promontory, in a stony field planted with young olive trees, we pitched our tents on very rough ground, where it was not easy to find a level spot to sleep upon, but where we promised ourselves good botanising in the immediate neighbourhood, even if unable to penetrate far into the mountains.

Some unusual precautions were taken this evening to guard against a night attack upon our camp, and the Kaïds assumed an air of importance befitting men who felt that the time had at length arrived for a display of their professional skill and prowess; but, as we fully expected, the night passed without the slightest molestation. A few musket shots discharged at a distance were heard, exchanged between the hostile parties, or more probably fired in terrorem to show that the defenders were ready for action. As we heard no more on the subject, it is probable that no further disturbance ensued during our stay in the neighbourhood.

On the morning of May 26 our first anxiety was to ascertain what might be our prospect of reaching from this point the head of the valley, and making another ascent of the main range. We had already heard rumours of disturbances among the native tribes in the upper part of the valley, so that our expectations of success did not run high; and when the sheik of the valley was forthcoming we were not much surprised to hear him declare that an excursion in that direction was utterly impracticable. We at once suspected Kaïd el Hasbi of practising his usual machinations to defeat our intentions; but with the difference that on this occasion there was probably some foundation in fact for the tales that were told us of conflicts between the neighbouring tribes, and of possible danger for travellers. With an escort furnished by the orders of the Sultan, and quite numerous enough to inspire respect among the rude mountaineers, there would have been no real risk in proceeding along the valley—or anywhere else in this part of the country—provided we could have reckoned on our men; but in the face of their refusal, there was no use in further pressing the point.

The next thing to be done was to make an arrangement for enabling us to see something of the outer range of mountains immediately surrounding our camp, and after some debating it was agreed that on the following day we should ascend to the higher ridge of the considerable mass already referred to as rising to the west of our camp. Much nearer at hand, extending from behind our tents towards the opening of the main valley, a steep rocky ridge, only from 400 to 500 feet in height, promised to show us what we had hitherto seen little of, the rock vegetation of the lower region of the Atlas, and we readily made up our minds to devote the remainder of this day to its careful examination.

There was, however, another matter of a practical nature requiring immediate attention. A glance at the map shows that in travelling along the skirts of the Atlas from Seksaoua to Mogador our route must lie through the district of Imintanout, and thence through the adjoining provinces of Mtouga and Haha. We had informed Mr. Carstensen of our intention to follow this line of route, and fixed the probable date of our return to Mogador at the 2nd or 3rd of June. During the last two days we had heard vague reports of disturbances going on in the provinces of Mtouga and Haha, and these were now confirmed and aggravated by the sheik of Seksaoua. War was actually raging, we were told, and the Governors had summoned all their people to arms. As was to be expected, the men of our escort, who clearly had no stomach for fighting of any kind, were becoming very uneasy at the idea of coming near to the seat of operations, and we apprehended that they might make an attempt to force us to diverge from our intended route and travel northward across the plain so as to rejoin the beaten road from Marocco to Mogador. Having ascertained that the distance from Seksaoua to the kasbah of the Governor of Mtouga is no more than an easy day’s ride for men travelling without luggage, Kaïd el Hadj of Mogador with two of his men was despatched on a mission to Mtouga. He was to ascertain the truth as to the stories that had reached us, and to require the Governor, in case he considered extra protection necessary, to send additional soldiers to escort us through his territory, thus, as we hoped, committing us to keep to our intended route as far as Mtouga.

About this time we became a good deal interested in one of the soldiers of our escort who had travelled with us throughout our journey. He was a large man, with black skin, but with hair and lips of less pronounced Negro type than we see among the natives of western equatorial Africa. When leaving Mogador he had an ulcerous sore on one hand, which was much swollen and almost useless. The sore, under Hooker’s treatment, was quite healed, and he was genuinely grateful for the benefit. Alone among the soldiers of our escort he did what he could to forward our desire to explore the mountain valleys; and of late, on more than one occasion, he had given useful information that helped us to defeat the petty intrigues of Kaïd el Hasbi. By our direction Abraham made some inquiry as to his previous history, and he quite readily told his story. He belonged, as it appeared, to one of the tribes that inhabit the skirts of the Great Desert on the south side of the Great Atlas. They led a predatory life, gaining an uncertain living by robbing travellers, and killing those who made resistance. After some years passed in this way, our friend seemed to have taken a dislike to the mode of life, and enlisted as a soldier in the service of the Sultan of Marocco. In his new position he had gained or developed some elementary notions of religion and morality, and he now expressed a strong opinion as to the impropriety of robbery and murder.

Here was a case such as is often cited by superficial travellers to show the absence of a moral sense among savage people. This man had no doubt robbed and murdered in his youth without the slightest compunction; but, given the conditions under which the ethical sense could be developed, the result was to produce an individual morally superior to the majority of those around him. The analogy, so well drawn by Reid, between the moral nature of man and the development of the plant from the seed holds good. External conditions are necessary; but they do not create the germ, without which no evolution can follow. The conditions vary from one individual to another. One requires to be fostered by many favourable influences; another, with stronger vitality, will bud forth under the least auspicious conditions. The assertion that there are human beings in whom it is impossible to awaken any sense of difference between right and wrong must be, at least, premature, until the world shall have reached a social condition in which each individual may be tried under appropriate conditions.

Our day’s botanising on the rocks near Seksaoua was successful beyond our expectations. Many conspicuous plants peculiar to Marocco were here seen for the first time. Several of these had been gathered by M. Balansa during the four days which he passed in the adjoining district of Keira, but were known to us only by name. That active and successful botanical traveller was able to collect so few specimens that in several cases no duplicates were available for distribution, and the specimens exist only in the rich herbarium of M. Cosson. Among other novelties we here saw for the first time Trachelium angustifolium of Schousboe, utterly unlike any other species of that ornamental genus; Teucrium rupestre and T. bullatum, both described by M. Cosson from Balansa’s specimens; and a single specimen of Elæoselinum exinvolucratum of Cosson, a fine umbelliferous plant, apparently very rare even in its native district. A very fine Brassica, standing five or six feet high, with a straight upright stem, set with candelabrum-like branches, was the most remarkable new plant found by us which had not already come in the way of M. Balansa.

The morning had been cool; the thermometer at 8 A.M. did not rise above 64° F., and the sky was overclouded; but as the day went on the sun blazed out with great power, and this was one of the hottest days we experienced. The heat was, of course, especially felt on bare rocks which became so hot that the hand could not bear them; and the soldier who had gone out by way of protecting us judiciously retired to the shade of a fig-tree at the foot of the hill. After some time, we separated and returned to the camp by different routes. A portion of the slope not far above our camp was altogether covered with broken blocks of moderate size obviously derived from the steeper crags above. This ground abounded in reptiles of various kinds, which were, however, so shy that it was not easy to get a favourable view of them. By sitting perfectly still for some minutes, Ball was partly successful in getting them to approach him. The most remarkable creature much resembled a miniature Iguanodon in form, being about eighteen inches long, with a row of thick conical processes projecting upwards along the back, and gradually diminishing towards the tail from about two inches in height between the shoulders. Numerous lizards were also seen; but no snakes, except a small black viperine species, seen gliding between the stones, actually under one foot, which fortunately did not touch or injure the animal.

By this time we were beginning to feel the effects of the unsatisfactory dietary to which we had been reduced during the four weeks since we left Mogador. It may seem unreasonable for men in health, plentifully supplied with fowls, sheep, and eggs, to complain of their food; but those who have experienced the difference between the meat of well-fed animals and the stringy tasteless fibre which is produced in such a country as this, will duly appreciate our longing for some variety. As the season advanced, and the herbage in the lower country became more and more parched, the sheep, always miserably thin, approached nearer and nearer to the condition of skeletons, covered with skin and ragged wool, and for some time back we had given up the attempt to eat any part, except the liver and kidneys broiled on short sticks; while the fowls had become equally distasteful. The keskossou, daily presented with the mona, was prepared with large quantities of rancid butter, to which, in spite of many experiments, we never could reconcile ourselves. Our attempts at obtaining any variety of diet were quite unsuccessful. Ducks and geese, being by Mohammedans considered unclean, were out of the question; and the turkey and guinea-fowl appear to be unknown to the domestic economy of the Moors. Our chief desideratum was fresh vegetables or fruit, but these were not to be obtained. Except in the neighbourhood of the coast towns, where they have been introduced by Europeans, none of our European vegetables are cultivated in South Marocco, except the cucumber and the pumpkin, and, owing to the want of the most elementary skill in horticulture, these seem to remain in season for a very short time; while the cultivation of fruit, at least in the districts we traversed, seems to be generally neglected. In this respect Marocco presents a striking contrast to most places with a somewhat similar climate in the Mediterranean region. Egypt, Palestine, and Syria, however low they may have fallen owing to corrupt and oppressive government, have retained some share in the inheritance of an ancient civilisation. We had carried with us sundry tins of preserved vegetables, of which green peas were by far the most acceptable; but our stores were now nearly exhausted, and our chief remaining luxury was portable soup, made with compressed vegetables and biscuits, which was now served out very sparingly. Tea without milk was often pleasant in the evening; but cocoa, prepared with milk in small tins, was much preferred for the morning meal.

The evening air was cool and pleasant, and, in spite of the advancing season, the night almost cold, though the height of our station, by the mean of two observations, did not exceed 2,867 feet (874 m.). Even the horrible howling of the dogs in a neighbouring village failed to keep us from a good night’s rest.

The morning of May 27 broke brilliantly, and, though the sun’s rays were already hot, the thermometer in the shade at 6 A.M. did not rise above 60° F. Another attempt was made to induce the sheik to take us for an excursion up the main valley; but he held fast to his declaration that the country in that direction was too dangerous, and repeated his offer of the previous day to lead us up the nearer mountain. Failing anything better, we resolved to accept this.

The declivity of the hill immediately west of our camp being much too steep for horses, we followed a circuitous track, at first NW. and then SSW., chiefly along steep slopes, on which, among other novelties, we first gathered Erodium atlanticum, discovered in this district by M. Balansa. After an ascent of some 1,500 or 1,600 feet the track turned again nearly due west, and we found ourselves on the southern slope of the mountain, which we now saw to be almost completely detached from the main range of the Atlas. The slightly convex ridge on which we stood inclined gently to the south, forming the watershed between the Seksaoua valley and that of Imintanout which adjoins it on the west. The slopes of the mountains enclosing both those valleys are better wooded than usual in the Atlas, some variety of evergreen oak being apparently the prevailing tree. Behind us, as we stood facing the great range, the mountain rose some 1,200 feet above our present level, and as the sun was hot we did not immediately dismount, but continued to ride some part of the way, only the final ascent being made on foot.

The view was in many respects very interesting, as it showed us a great part of the main range from an entirely new point of view, and the air on this day was unusually clear. Looking westward, where the horizon, at a distance of at least eighty miles, must have been rather near the Atlantic coast, we were able to assure ourselves that the hills that extend through most of the great province of Haha are all of moderate height, none of them approaching that on which we stood. In this respect Beaudouin’s map is much more correct than that of Gerhard Rohlfs, which seems to show that the main chain at its western end is broken up into lofty, diverging branches, some of which extend far through Haha. No prominent object caught the eye to the northward, except the familiar flat-topped hills near Sheshaoua. For the last time we were able to distinguish the site of the city of Marocco, bearing about NE. by E., and over sixty miles distant. About due east the high range at the head of the Aït Mesan valley showed much more snow than when we viewed it five days before from the summit of Djebel Tezah, while the latter mountain seemed pretty much in the same condition in which we had found it. About due south a rugged peak towards the head of the Imintanout valley had snow in rifts and depressions; and another of somewhat similar aspect, rising farther east and above the head of the Seksaoua valley, seemed to be the highest point in the whole range west of the sources of the Oued Nfys. From their position, and the ruggedness of their aspect, either of these peaks promised well for a naturalist who could succeed in gaining access to them, but we felt that such good fortune was not now in store for us.

The fresh sheet of snow which had fallen on the Aït Mesan range within the last few days led us to what seemed an explanation of the inconsistent accounts given as well by travellers as by natives as to the existence of perpetual snow on this part of the Great Atlas. From its position between the Great Desert to the south, the Atlantic Ocean to the west, and the low country to the north, it is obvious that a range of mountains from 11,000 to 13,000 feet in height must frequently be the seat of violent atmospheric disturbances. Whenever these draw from the ocean currents of heated air, nearly saturated with moisture, into the upper region, the cooling effect consequent on rapid expansion must produce copious precipitation, and it is most probable that on the higher part of the range this, even in the hottest season, takes the form of snow. But, as we had seen, the snow melts with extreme rapidity under the almost vertical sun during the summer months; and hence one traveller may have seen the range thickly snowed even in the hottest season, while another, with equal truth, may describe it as almost completely bare. The state of things is such that a very moderate change in the physical conditions might easily lead to the accumulation of an annual surplus of unmelted snow, which is the first condition for the formation of glaciers. A mere increase in the amount of precipitation, with little change in the general conditions of temperature of this region, might produce glaciers reaching as low down as that whose moraine we saw at the head of the Aït Mesan valley.

Many early-flowering plants were already withered, but we collected on the mountain several interesting species. Of two tall and very distinct Resedas found here, one is also a native of Spain; the other, R. elata, of Cosson, was first gathered by M. Balansa, and seems to be confined to this district. Of another curious plant discovered by the same active naturalist we now first saw satisfactory specimens. It is at first sight scarcely to be distinguished from a species characteristic of the hot and dry region of North Africa—the Cynara acaulis of Linnæus. The latter was discovered by Tilli, a Florentine physician, afterwards professor of botany at Pisa, who was called to Constantinople early in the last century to cure the favourite daughter of the Sultan. Being successful in his treatment, he received many tokens of favour, and seems to have made use of his opportunities to visit several parts of the Turkish Empire, and certainly travelled in the Regency of Tunis. The same plant was next seen by the English traveller, Thomas Shaw, who mentions it in the Appendix to his Travels published in 1738; and it was at last more fully described and well figured by Desfontaines in his excellent work, the Flora Atlantica. Decandolle, in attempting to reduce to order the vast mass of plants that belong to the natural order of Compositæ, clearly saw that this differed essentially from the genus Cynara (of which the type is the common artichoke), and referred it first to Serratula, and finally to Rhaponticum; and it has hence been generally known as Rhaponticum acaule. Many botanists were somewhat startled to find in the Genera Plantarum of Bentham and Hooker that the authors had united all the plants hitherto ranked under the generic name Rhaponticum with Centaurea, a vast genus, containing species of the most varied aspect, of which nearly 300 are already known in the Mediterranean region. It was interesting to us to find that the new species discovered by Balansa, of which the foliage is quite undistinguishable from the old Rhaponticum acaule, is, as regards the flowering heads, intermediate in structure between that and recognised species of Centaurea, though nearer to the latter. If we had remembered Shaw’s statement, that the roots of his Cynara acaulis have an agreeable flavour, and are eaten by the Arabs in some parts of Africa, we should certainly have tried whether the species are also similar in this respect.

During the ascent of the mountain we had passed near a little hamlet, containing eight or ten houses of the poorest class; but the laws of native hospitality required that refreshments should be offered to the strangers, and on the way back a halt was called. The mona consisted of eggs, wheaten cakes, butter, and milk, which were speedily despatched; and we added to our collections a curious biennial variety of Rumex vesicarius, having the membranous wings enclosing the fruit of a bright rose red.

By 4 P.M. we had got back to our camp, and the remainder of the day was devoted to the care of our collections. Before nightfall Kaïd el Hadj returned from his mission to Mtouga, bringing confirmation of the reports as to the outbreak of hostilities between the people of Mtouga and their neighbours of Haha, with an addition to our escort in the shape of six ragged-looking soldiers sent by the Governor of Mtouga.

On the morning of May 28 our numbers were further increased by the return of the two soldiers who had left us at Sektana for the purpose of escorting Maw to Mogador. They were welcome, for they brought letters from England, together with a good account of our travelling companion. He had reached Mogador early on the fifth day from Sektana, and happened to arrive a few hours before the departure of a small British steamer bound from the Canary Islands to London.

Before departing, we gave a last look at the neighbourhood of our camp, and reluctantly abstained from attempting a close examination of the ancient castle, or fort, which stood at the opposite side of the stream commanding the entrance to the main valley. We were well aware that any curiosity shown in that direction would have been set down to designs on buried treasure, and would have aggravated the suspicion with which all our proceedings were viewed by the native authorities.