the latter entry referring to days when a fog or thick haze prevails in the morning, but disappears before mid-day. The desert wind is scarcely felt at Mogador. On an average it blows on about two days in each year, and on these rare occasions it has much less effect on the thermometer than it has in Madeira, doubtless owing to the protective effect of the chain of the Great Atlas.

These remarkable climatal conditions have been mainly attributed to the influence of the north-east trade wind, which sets along the coast, and prevails, especially in summer, throughout a great part of the year; the average of north and north-east winds being about 271 days out of 365. West and south-west winds blow chiefly in winter on about fifty-seven days in each year, and variable winds from the remaining four points prevail on an average of thirty-seven days. The north-east breeze, increasing in force as the sun approaches the meridian, maintains the exceptionally cool summer temperature already indicated as characteristic of the Mogador climate—a privilege which is not shared by Saffi or Mazagan, where the summer heat is sometimes excessive. It must be noted that although the summer temperature of the interior of Marocco is much higher than that of Mogador, it yet falls far short of what is found in places lying in the same latitude in North Africa or Asia. This is evidently owing to the influence of the Great Atlas chain, with its branches that diverge northward towards the Mediterranean, which screen the entire region from the burning winds of the desert, and send down streams that cover the land with vegetation.

When one comes to consider how it happens that a place possessing such extraordinary natural advantages has not become frequented by the class of invalids to whom climate offers the only chance of recovering health, or prolonging life, the obvious answer is, that invalids cannot live on air alone, and that few persons in that condition have the courage to select a place where they may reasonably expect much difficulty in procuring the comforts and even the necessaries of life, competent medical advice, and some reasonable opportunities for occupation or amusement. The difficulties under the first two heads are perhaps not very serious. Lodging and food may apparently be procured on reasonable terms, and for many years past there has always been a competent French physician residing here. The resources of the place in point of society are of course limited, and must vary with the arrival and departure of the few European residents; but any one fortunate enough to be interested in any branch of natural history would find constant occupation of an agreeable kind in a place where there are not half a dozen days in the year that may not be agreeably passed out of doors.[4]

A special subject, to be earnestly recommended to any competent inquirer, whether invalid or not, who may pass six months at Mogador, is the language and ethnology of the Shelluh branch of the Bereber race. Many of these mountain people come to seek a living at Mogador, and from our experience it would not be difficult to find one who would become a useful servant.

In the course of the day we visited the extensive stores of Messrs. E. Bonnet & Co., who export large quantities of olive oil from the neighbouring provinces. By increased care in the preparation and subsequent purification of the oil, its quality has been much improved. The cultivation of the vine has of late rapidly increased, and wine of tolerable quality has taken a place among the products which Marocco supplies to England.

Notwithstanding all that we had heard of the excellence of the climate, we had to confess that at this season Mogador is not a paradise for the botanist. The NNE. winds come saturated with vapour, and charged with minute particles of salt from the breaking of the Atlantic waves on the reefs near the town; and, as the temperature of the land is scarcely higher than that of the sea, the air has little or no drying effect on paper and plants. The consequence was that Mr. Carstensen’s kitchen was used both by day and night to save our specimens from destruction by damp.

As our interpreter, besides the cook and one or two more of our retinue, were Jews, it was decided that, in order to spare their feelings and those of the Jewish community in Mogador in respect to the Sabbath, we should despatch them along with our heavy baggage on April 28, while we should follow on the succeeding day to the spot where they were to await us. Later in the day, after completing the arrangements for our journey, we went by invitation to dine with the Governor. We found that our host had had a table prepared with chairs for Mrs. Carstensen, who with two European ladies graced the entertainment. Beside them a carpet was spread for Mr. Carstensen and our party; while the Governor himself, with three native functionaries, sat in their usual fashion, cross-legged, on another carpet several yards distant. The first preliminary was the washing of fingers. One attendant bore water, another a brass bowl or basin, and a third presented to each in turn an embroidered towel. This process is always repeated at the close of dinner, and is common to all classes in the country. The feast then began, as every well-ordered Moorish banquet must do, by green tea. Three cups, carefully prepared in the presence of the guests, in a silver teapot half filled with sugar, were handed in succession to each, and then fresh tea, with mint leaves added, is again prepared, and of this decoction the natives usually take one or two cups more. The serious part of the repast then followed. A large dish of coarse earthenware, covered with a conical cap of fine straw, twice the size of a beehive, is laid on a low wooden frame in the centre of the circle of guests. On the present occasion duplicate dishes were prepared for us, and for the Governor and his native friends. When the cover was removed, we were introduced to the national dish which was destined to be our frequent acquaintance during our journey in the South. The basis of keskossou is coarse wheaten, or sometimes millet flour, cooked with butter, for which oil is occasionally substituted. To this is added mutton, lamb, or fowls, cut up into pieces, with various vegetables, either laid on the farinaceous substratum or mixed up with it. Numerous dishes succeeded each other, but they appeared to be all variations on the same gastronomic theme. The cookery on this occasion was better than we often found it; but the pervading flavour of rancid butter, long kept in great earthen pots, is repulsive to European stomachs, and few strangers are ever fortunate enough to be able to enjoy Moorish feasts. To some of us this was the first occasion for practising the art of eating with our fingers, and it was lucky that our host was not at hand to observe the awkwardness of our first essays. We improved somewhat with practice, but never could approach the dexterity and neatness with which the natives accomplish the operation, using only the fingers of the right hand. Conversation was completely drowned during dinner by the native music provided in compliment to the distinguished guests. Four men, squatting on the ground, struck the stretched metal strings of an instrument somewhat resembling a very rude Tyrolese zither, and kept up a constant chant or recitation in loud nasal tones, very different from the slow monotonous almost always melancholy songs of the Arabs in the East. These men, on the contrary, declaimed the words with unflagging energy, as though determined that the hearers should understand the story; and it was a moment of intense relief when at the end of dinner the deafening clang of strings and voices ceased. The fingers were again washed, green tea again served, courtesy requiring that each guest should take at least three cups, and then the Governor and his friends advanced and joined our party.

Mr. Carstensen had asked permission to bring some wine for our use during dinner, and afterwards naturally took the occasion to invite the Moors present to take a share. With very slight show of reluctance, they accepted; and, though the quantity consumed was but trifling, the effect was unmistakable. The conversation became very lively, and jokes passed which excited peals of laughter, though most of them evaporated in the process of translation. One of the Moorish guests—Director of the Tobacco monopoly, as we were told—from the first struck us as a man of jovial temperament; and on him the extra glass or two of wine had a potent effect, the jollity culminating in an extemporised dance, reminding one of the dancing bears, once the delight of our youth, that have disappeared since the era of Zoological Gardens. The copious doses of green tea did not prevent some of the party from sleeping; while others sat up till near morning, engaged in the almost hopeless endeavour to get large piles of botanical paper thoroughly dry, before we finally started on our journey into the interior.

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CHAPTER V.

Departure from Mogador — Argan forest — Hilly country of Haha — Fertile province of Shedma — Hospitality of the Governor — Turkish visitor — Offering of provisions — Kasbah of the Governor — Ride to Aïn Oumast — First view of the Great Atlas — Pseudo-Sahara — Tomb of a Saint — Nzelas — Ascend the ‘Camel’s Back’ — Oasis of Sheshaoua — Coolness of the night temperature — Rarity of ancient buildings — Halt at Aïn Beida — Tents and luggage gone astray — Night at Misra ben Kara — Cross the Oued Nfys — Plain of Marocco — Range of the Great Atlas — Halt under Tamarisk tree.

The morning of Saturday, April 29, was fixed for our departure from Mogador, and about 7 A.M. all were ready to start.

Mr. and Mrs. Carstensen, with a rather numerous party of the European residents at Mogador, had arranged to escort us for a distance of some seven miles; and it was agreed that, instead of following the direct road to the city of Marocco, which runs about ENE. from Mogador, we should make a detour nearly at right angles to that direction, or about SSE., so as to gain a fuller acquaintance with the Argan forest.

Our course lay in the same direction that we had chosen in our first short excursion from the town. Between the belt of sandy shore that is daily washed by the tide, and the sand dunes that rose in undulations on our left, we rode past the mouth of the Oued Kseb, and then began to ascend over sandy dunes, whereon the prevailing plant is Genista monosperma, the R’tam of the Arabs, whose slender silvery branches wave in the slightest breeze. Several of the peculiar plants of this coast occurred at intervals, such as Cheiranthus semperflorens, Statice mucronata, a curious and somewhat ornamental species, and two or three kinds of Erodium. As the track rises and recedes a little from the coast, the tertiary calcareous rock that underlies the sandhills crops out here and there, and the first Argan trees begin to show themselves. As we advanced, the trees grew larger and nearer together, and as we approached our intended halt, at a place called Douar Arifi, they formed a continuous forest.

The Argan tree is in many respects the most remarkable plant of South Marocco; and it attracts the more attention as it is the only tree that commonly attains a large size, and forms a conspicuous feature of the landscape in the low country near the coast. In structure and properties it is nearly allied to the tropical genus Sideroxylon (Iron-wood); but there is enough of general resemblance, both in its mode of growth and its economic uses, to the familiar olive tree of the Mediterranean region to make it the local representative of that plant. Its home is the sub-littoral zone of South-western Marocco, where it is common between the rivers Tensift and Sous. A few scattered trees only are said to be found north of the Tensift; but it seems to be not infrequent in the hilly district between the Sous and the river of Oued Noun, making the total length of its area about 200 miles. Extending from near the coast for a distance of thirty or forty miles inland, it is absolutely unknown elsewhere in the world. The trunk always divides at a height of eight or ten feet from the ground, and sends out numerous spreading, nearly horizontal branches. The growth is apparently very slow, and the trees that attain a girth of twelve to fifteen feet are probably of great antiquity. The minor branches and young shoots are beset with stiff thick spines, and the leaves are like those of the olive in shape, but of a fuller green, somewhat paler on the under side. Unlike the olive, the wood is of extreme hardness, and seemingly indestructible by insects, as we saw no example of a hollow trunk. The fruit, much like a large olive in appearance, but varying much in size and shape, is greedily devoured by goats, sheep, camels, and cows, but refused by horses and mules; its hard kernel furnishes the oil which replaces that of the olive in the cookery of South Marocco, and is so unpleasant to the unaccustomed palate of Europeans. The annexed cut, showing an average Argan, about twenty-five feet in height, and covering a space of sixty or seventy feet in diameter, with another, where goats are seen feeding on the fruit, exhibits a

ARGAN TREES

scene which at first much amused us, as we had not been accustomed to consider the goat as an arboreal quadruped.[1] Owing to the spreading habit of the branches, which in the older trees approach very near to the ground, no young seedlings are seen where the trees are near together, and but little vegetation, excepting small annuals; but in open places, and on the outer skirts of the forest, there grows in abundance a peculiar species of Thyme (T. Broussonnetii), with broadly ovate leaves and bracts that are coloured red or purple, and the characteristic strong scent of that tribe. It is interesting to the botanist as an endemic species, occupying almost exactly the same geographical area as the Argan. As we afterwards found, it is replaced in the interior of the country by an allied, but quite distinct, species. Its penetrating odour seems to be noxious to moths, as the dried twigs and leaves are much used in Mogador, and found effectual for the preservation of woollen stuffs.

Not many flowering plants were seen in the shade of the Argan trees; the only species worthy of note being a very slender annual Asphodel (A. tenuifolius), and Carum mauritanicum—a plant somewhat resembling our British pignut.

Meanwhile carpets had been spread under the shade of one of the largest Argan trees, and a copious breakfast was displayed. Fully an hour had been consumed between eating and conversation and the parting cigar, when, bidding farewell to our friends, we finally started on our road for the interior, under the guardianship of the worthy old Kaïd who commanded our escort. Separated from our interpreter and our luggage, we felt ourselves at first strangely isolated; but thanks to the cheerful readiness of our Shelluh attendants, and especially of Omback, who had been specially assigned to Hooker, this impression soon wore off. Our men had been engaged in unloading cargo from English ships in the port of Mogador, and had commenced the study of the English tongue by picking up about a dozen words from the sailors. They at once showed themselves anxious to add to their store, and the result was that all, but especially Omback, gained such a smattering of the language as served our purpose for many of the ordinary purposes of life. ‘Catch him flower’ became the ordinary way of desiring a man to gather some plant by the wayside, and many similar phrases soon passed current between us. The only term of disapproval in use with our men was ‘bloody dog,’ and this was not seldom applied to the mules whenever they gave trouble, as those creatures are wont to do.

As we rode on, the Argan forest grew thinner, the trees were gradually intermixed with other species, amongst which we noted a few specimens of Callitris quadrivalvis—the Arar of the Moors—and before long we gained, from the brow of a low hill where the forest ceased altogether, a rather wide view over a country not altogether unlike some parts of England. The hills of the province of Haha rise in successive undulations as they recede from the coast in sloping downs, relieved at intervals by clumps of trees, and elsewhere broken by masses of low shrubs. The calcareous rock, which seems never far from the surface, is thinly covered over with red earth; and patches of cultivation, chiefly barley or wheat, the former now nearly ripe, here and there indicated the presence of man somewhere within reach, but seemed to show that he plays a subordinate part in fashioning the appearance of the country. The prevailing bush or small tree is Zizyphus Lotus, whose double sets of thorns—one pointing forward and the other curved back—were destined to plague us throughout all the low country of South Marocco. The Zizyphus was often quite covered over by climbing plants, that rise ten or twelve feet from the ground. The most frequent of these, an Ephedra and an Asparagus, do not appear to require any special organs of attachment. Probably the intricate branches and complex spines of the Zizyphus render these superfluous.

Soon after this we first met bushes of one of the peculiar plants of South Marocco, then little known, and of which we were not able to learn much by personal inspection. The Acacia gummifera of Willdenow is one of a group of allied species of which the remainder inhabit Upper Egypt and Nubia, while one, at least, is widely spread throughout Eastern Africa and Arabia. The tasteless gum known as the gum-arabic of commerce is probably produced by several of these species. Like its allies, the South Marocco plant flowers late in the year, after the first autumn rains, and ripens its pods during the winter. Hence, as seen by us in spring, without flower or fruit, there was little to distinguish this from several of the other forms of this group.[2]

Among herbaceous plants that attracted our notice was Glaucium corniculatum (here always orange, and never crimson as it is in Palestine), with Campanula dichotoma, only just coming into flower, whilst two or three degrees farther north, in Palestine and Syria, it usually flowers three weeks earlier. More interesting, as being one of the few local plants common to South Marocco and the Canary Islands, was the Linaria sagittata (Antirrhinum sagittatum of Poiret), very unlike any other toadflax in the form of its leaves and its much branched twining stems that spread far and wide over the low bushes.

Although the air was cooled by a pleasant breeze, the direct rays of the sun were very powerful, and we were glad to make a short halt for luncheon near a well, where a small ruined building of rough masonry gave a narrow fringe of shadow. Resuming our route, we soon after recrossed the sluggish stream of the Oued Kseb, whose banks were fringed with Vitex Agnus castus, and with Cyperaceæ not yet in flower. We took this at the time for one of the branches of a river shown on the French map as falling into the Atlantic north of the Djebel Hadid, some twenty miles from Mogador; but we afterwards came to the conclusion that no such river is in existence.

At or near the ford is the boundary of the province of Shedma, much less extensive than that of Haha, but apparently more fertile. The soil now sensibly improved, and there were indications of more careful husbandry. At the same time the larger portion of the surface remained in a state of nature, and gratified our botanical appetites by a display of many novelties. The varied species of Genista, that are so conspicuous in North Marocco and the Spanish peninsula, were here little seen, but are replaced by several allied genera. Cytisus albidus and Anagyris fœtida are especially prominent. Withania fruticosa, a curious Solanaceous shrub, which we had already seen near Casa Blanca and during the morning ride, here became extremely common; but what most interested us was Linaria ventricosa of Cosson, a large species, with stiff erect branches three or four feet in height, first found in the adjoining province of Haha by M. Balansa, and which we afterwards saw to be widely spread through South Marocco, and one of the characteristic features of the flora.

The dwarf fan-palm (Chamærops humilis, or palmetto of the Spaniards), much less common in Marocco than it is in the hotter parts of Southern Europe, was here rather abundant, perhaps because it is one of the few plants that the locusts are unable or unwilling to devour.

As we rode onward, gradually ascending over a gently undulating country, this became constantly more productive. In two or three places the people were cutting tolerable crops of ripe corn; the olive, fig, and pomegranate became frequent, and for the first and last time we saw the former tree cultivated with care, pruned, and apparently manured.

The sun had just set when we at length reached our camp outside the large castle of the Governor of Shedma, and found our interpreter and other attendants anxiously awaiting our arrival. The tents were already pitched, and our heavy luggage was in its place. We should have been glad to eat a moderate repast in peace, lay out the plants collected during the day, and retire to rest; but that would have been nowise suitable to the dignity of a party travelling under the especial protection of the Sultan, and whose importance had doubtless been exaggerated to the utmost by the inventive talents of our interpreter. In the absence of the Governor, his son, a stout overfed man of forty, welcomed us on our arrival, and invited us to dine in the kasbah, and of course courtesy required us to accept the invitation. After a brief toilet, we proceeded to enter the castle, and were led through open spaces to the inner building, which forms the dwelling of the Governor, and then through a court, with flower-plots in the centre, to a large and handsome hall, where we were to be entertained. As usual, there was little furniture, save several showy Rabat carpets, but we noticed three or four ornamental French timepieces in a recess where it would appear that the Governor or his son were used to sleep. Besides our host, there was present a grave man whose features differed much from the ordinary Moorish type. He turned out to be a Turk who had already passed several months as a guest in the Governor’s castle. We never understood accurately what had brought him so far from Istamboul; but we were led to believe that he had come on some informal mission, and that its traditional jealousy of foreigners, nowise confined to Christians, had led the Moorish Court to interpose obstacles in the way of his advance into the country.

After a quarter of an hour’s interchange of civil speeches, conversation began to flag; but the Governor’s cook, who perhaps wished to display his professional skill on the occasion, was yet far from completing his operations. Quite an hour passed, we were tired and sleepy, and our fat host showed no talent for conversation, so that the time hung heavily enough until the usual preface to dinner, green tea, was introduced. Doubtless the entertainment was everything that a Moorish connoisseur would have thought refined and exquisite. Orange-flower water was provided for washing the fingers, and incense was burned at the beginning of the repast. Our host was attentive enough to pick out and present to us choice pieces of meat or vegetable from the dishes that followed each other in slow order, but he fortunately did not think it necessary to show the utmost mark of hospitable attention by taking an especially delicate morsel from his own mouth and thrusting it into that of a guest. It was quite ten o’clock when, after further potations of green tea, we returned to our tents. Presently Hooker was requested, through Abraham, our interpreter, to receive the mona, or offering of food, which, in accordance with the Sultan’s order, was to be provided at each place where we stopped on our journey. The mona on this occasion befitted the dignity of the Governor of an important province rather than the wants of three travellers who had just been abundantly fed, and whose retinue could not, with the best intentions, consume one half of the articles supplied.

Opposite the door of our large tent a number of the Governor’s servants appeared, the whole group being lit up by torchlight. First, five live sheep were dragged forward, then twenty fowls, then followed a large hollow dish filled with eggs. To these succeeded a very large earthen jar of butter, and another of honey, a package of green tea, four loaves of sugar, candles of French manufacture, which are largely imported, and finally corn for our horses and mules. As if all this were not enough, there then advanced a procession of men, carrying the usual large dishes with beehive covers, each of which in turn was laid down before Hooker. It may be here mentioned that the presentation of mona was henceforward a daily ceremony, repeated every evening, some time after our arrival in camp. The requisition was made by the soldiers of our escort upon the local authority, whether a governor or a mere village sheik; and this was a part of their duties which they performed with unfailing zeal and punctuality. On such an occasion as the present we had no fear of pressing too hardly on the donors of the mona; but in poor places, and especially in the valleys of the Great Atlas, we had an unpleasant feeling that the exorbitant demands of our rapacious escort imposed a heavy tax on the limited means of the population.

Struggling against sleep, we diligently worked at our plants till long past midnight, and then, at length, sought rest after our first day’s journey in South Marocco. On the morning of April 30, we were up betimes, and had an opportunity of viewing the kasbah. It is a large pile of building, enclosed by a high wall, within which there is space for great numbers of horses, camels, and domestic animals of all kinds, with dwellings for the numerous retainers and rooms for guests, all separate from the central block which forms the residence of the great man, his family, and personal attendants. Except that it is mainly built of tapia, or blocks of mud, rammed into square moulds and hardened in the sun, this and other similar buildings in Marocco differ little from the castles which the semibarbarous feudal chiefs inhabited throughout a great part of Europe in the so-called ages of chivalry, and down to the beginning of the last century. A more extended acquaintance with the country afterwards showed further points of comparison. There is not one of these kasbahs that has not been the scene of atrocious deeds of cruelty and treachery, such as we find in the records of most of our mediæval strongholds. When we shudder at tales of Moorish atrocities we are apt to forget that they merely disclose an anachronism, no way surprising in a country that has stood altogether aloof from the influences that have brought Europe to a condition of relative civilisation.

The kasbah of Shedma is well placed, on nearly flat ground, at the summit of one of the highest of the undulating hills that intervene between the coast and the great plain of Marocco, standing, by our measurements, 1,430 feet (436 mètres) above the sea level. The view over the gently heaving surface of the lower hills to the south was very pleasing. The slopes covered with short herbage, the green now beginning to turn brown and yellow, are studded with trees, chiefly Argan, olive, and fig, sometimes in clumps, sometimes dotted over the surface. Close to us, adjoining the gate of the kasbah, were several very fine Argan trees just coming into flower.

We were rather late in this morning’s start, and it was near 9 A.M. when, after the tents and luggage were packed, we got under way, accompanied by our host of last night, the Governor’s son, who volunteered to show us his father’s garden, of which he was evidently proud. We rode down the hill, and soon reached a place called the ‘Tuesday Market’ (Souk el Tleta), beside which we were to inspect the first example we met of Moorish horticulture. The enclosed space, about an acre in extent, was divided into oblong beds, in which the only cultivated flowers were roses and marigolds, growing amidst an abundant growth of weeds. Along with these we noticed several beds of mint, which is in constant requisition for mixing with green tea.

At the open space of the ‘Tuesday Market,’ our host took leave of us. We had not thought it necessary to make him a present, but he had no hesitation in asking for such small articles as caught his fancy. Maw had beguiled the tedious hour of waiting for dinner last night by exhibiting the combustion of magnesium wire, and complied with a request to that effect by giving up a small portion of his store. The Moor had spied a small lens in the hands of Crump, Hooker’s servant, and now asked for that. He next begged for some trifling European article belonging to Abraham, our interpreter, and finally for a box of fusees, the last possessed by Ball.

In a country where shops are unknown, except in a few large towns, the only chance for obtaining anything which the peasant cannot raise on his own ground is at the nearest market. These are held at some selected spot throughout the inhabited parts of the country, not always near a village, and the place takes its name from the day of the week on which the market is held. We found this place to be 1,183 feet (360·3 m.) above the sea level.

Our way now lay for some distance amidst enclosed and cultivated land, through green lanes bordered by shrubs covered with climbing plants. As the enclosures came to an end, and we again found ourselves in an open country dotted with trees, we observed the Argan gradually becoming more scarce, and the Zizyphus more frequent, until the last of the former were seen about ten miles east of the kasbah. Among the smaller shrubs Rhus pentaphylla was prominent. The genus Teucrium is especially characteristic of South Marocco, as may be inferred from the fact that four new species were found by M. Balansa, besides many of those common about the Mediterranean. We here met one of the peculiar Marocco species (T. collinum); and the ever varying T. Polium constantly recurred throughout our journey, from the coast up to over 4,000 feet above the sea.

After several brief halts, requisite for collecting new and rare plants by the way, we rested for half an hour in a shady spot near a well. Up to this point our course since morning had varied between due E. and SSE.; but for the remainder of this day’s journey our general direction was about ENE. The track slowly wound its way upwards amongst hills covered with Retam, till it reached the brow of a rounded eminence that overlooks a wide expanse of treeless plain extending eastward to the horizon, except where some low flat-topped hills were seen in the dim distance. We had now accomplished the first stage of our journey. We had traversed the zone of hilly country lying between the coast and the great plain of Marocco, on the verge of which we here stood. Leaving out of account a few prominences to be spoken of hereafter, the plain appears to the eye quite horizontal; but in fact there is a very perceptible inclination of about forty feet per mile from south to north, as it slopes from the foot of the Great Atlas towards the river Tensift, and a further slighter dip of about ten feet per mile from east to west, between the city of Marocco and Sheshaoua. The deficiency of water at once explains the great change in the vegetation, which was speedily perceptible in detail, but obvious to the eye from the first view of the country newly opened before us. Corresponding to this is a considerable change of climate, arising from the rapid heating of the surface by day, and the no less rapid cooling by radiation at night. We are already far from the equable climate of Mogador; and although the air in the shade is only pleasantly warm, we are happy to have the protection of pith helmets covered by turbans between our heads and the direct rays of the sun.

The verge of the great plain over which we rode this afternoon is far less barren than the portion which yet lay before us; and we found several species characteristic of similar situations in Spain and Africa, along with some others, hitherto undescribed, that appear to be characteristic of this part of Marocco. Thus Artemisia Herba alba became conspicuous, in some places almost covering the surface. Of the more noticeable herbaceous plants here seen were Matthiola parviflora, Gypsophila compressa, Ebenus pinnata (rather common throughout the low country), Onobrychis crista galli, an Elæoselinum, near to E. meoides, and numerous Compositæ, of which Cladanthus arabicus is one of the most conspicuous. We did not notice the fragrant odour which some travellers have found in the flowers of this species. To the same natural Order belong several undescribed plants, which became more abundant as we advanced into the interior of the country, belonging to the genera Anacyclus, Matricaria, Anthemis, and Centaurea.

About half-past four we reached our appointed camping place, at Aïn Oumast, one of the few wells of drinkable water found in the region we had now entered. In the coast zone it would appear that in ordinary years the rainfall is sufficient to enable the natives to raise grain crops wherever the soil is suitable for the purpose; but in the interior, cultivation is limited to the tracts that are capable of irrigation from the streams descending from the Great Atlas, or else to the immediate neighbourhood of wells. The ground around Aïn Oumast had borne a scanty crop of grain, and the rough surface, now baked hard by the sun, was not very comfortable for sleeping upon, even with the intervention of a mattress of cork shavings.

For a short way before our arrival, the main chain of the Great Atlas had for the first time been in view, dimly apparent at a distance of some sixty miles; but as the sun declined towards the horizon, the outlines became clearer, and we naturally watched with increasing interest every feature of that mysterious range seen, even from a distance, by few civilised men, whose recesses we hoped to be the first to explore. We discussed eagerly the question whether some patches of lighter colour represented snow, or merely surfaces of whitish limestone rock; and, as usual, the only effect of discussion was to confirm each in the impression first formed, which it was impossible to verify or disprove unless, by viewing the range from the same direction under similar conditions at a later season, we could discover whether the appearances in question should have altered or disappeared.

The mona presented by the Kaïd or sheik of the place was naturally less profuse than that offered at Shedma, but yet abundant for the needs of our camp. As almost everywhere, save in the remoter valleys of the Atlas, green tea and a quantity of white sugar formed a main feature in the entertainment, and doubtless the most expensive to the poor people who had to provide it.

The day had been warm, though not oppressive, the thermometer probably standing at about 80° Fahr. in the shade, and the fall of temperature during the night was very sensible. Even after the sun had risen on May 1—soon after five A.M.—the thermometer marked only 54° Fahr., but by six A.M. it reached 67°. The observation for altitude gave 1,132 feet (345·5 m.) above the sea; probably too low by fifty or sixty feet, owing to the local effect of radiation in depressing the temperature of the air in contact with the surface.

We were on our way soon after six; and, on leaving behind the bushes and small trees that grow on the skirts of the irrigated ground, we entered on a wide bare plain, stretching unbroken as far as the eye can reach, which forms the most singular feature in the aspect of this part of Marocco. The surface is covered with calcareous rough gravel, mixed in places with siliceous concretions. The scanty vegetation was already nearly all dried up, and it was not without difficulty that we secured specimens of most of the few species that can endure the parching heat and drought. Conspicuous among these was Peganum Harmala, forming at intervals green patches amid the general barrenness. Stipa tortilis was frequent, but mostly dried up, and here and there occurred tufts of a meagre variety of Avena barbata. More interesting than these were a diminutive annual species of Echium (E. modestum, Ball) and two species of Centaurea—one hitherto known as Rhaponticum acaule of Decandolle, the other, before undescribed (C. maroccana, Ball). In its general aspect, and in the character of its vegetation, this region bears a striking likeness to the stony portions of the Sahara, and we were not sorry to include this among our Marocco experiences, though well pleased that the acquaintance was not to be much prolonged.

Some six or seven miles east of Aïn Oumast we passed a short way north of Sidi Moktar, the tomb of a saint much venerated in this region, and the last spot where for a long distance water is to be found at all seasons. This is one of the halting-places, called Nzelas, frequented by ordinary travellers who follow this road. The Nzela is one of the peculiar institutions of this country deserving of some notice. The Marocco Government recognises, at least in theory, the duty of protecting travellers from violence to their persons and goods; for without some provision for the purpose the small amount of trade now existing between the interior and the coast could scarcely continue to exist. As well as all other executive functions, the sovereign commits this to the Governor of each province, who accordingly stations a few armed men at the places where travellers are accustomed to halt. Such a post is a Nzela. It does not imply the existence of any shelter, and still less of any supplies for the sustenance of men and cattle. In a country where the sparse population lives in tents or temporary sheds, the traveller must provide such things for himself; but at a Nzela the wayfarer may count on security from violence, and the guards are entitled to a trifling payment for each beast of burden that is committed to their protection. From any demands of this nature, as well as from the tolls that are levied on passing from one province to another, we were declared by our escort to be free, as personages travelling under the direct authority and protection of the Sultan. The boundaries of the three provinces of Shedma, Mtouga, and Ouled bou Sba met at Sidi Moktar; but such places in Marocco are proverbially unsafe, because they are the frequent resort of robbers and outlaws. In case of a robbery or murder being committed, the people of each tribe throw the blame upon their neighbours, and the men of one province are very shy of attempting to pursue malefactors who take refuge within the boundaries of another. After the commission of many outrages at this place, it was found necessary to transfer a portion of territory to the Ouled bou Sba, at the same time making the Governor of that province and tribe responsible for the safety of those whom business or piety lead to the sanctuary of Sidi Moktar.

As we rode onward the Great Atlas chain remained in view, but dimly seen through the haze that increased with the increasing heat of the day, and ahead of us rose some flat-topped hills of singular aspect which have attracted the attention of all travellers in this region. Some of these hills extend for a considerable distance, while others form small isolated masses; but they agree in two respects—all are flat-topped, and all show a steep escarpment especially on their westward faces. We afterwards saw reason to believe that they all rise about 450 feet above the portion of the plain near at hand, and reach nearly the same height as the plain surrounding the city of Marocco. The general appearance suggested the probability of a former wide extension westward of the latter plain, and subsequent erosion by marine or fluviatile action. As we approached the most conspicuous of these isolated hills, we were struck with the singular appearance of the stunted bushes of Zizyphus Lotus, which form the only arborescent vegetation of this region. From a little distance they looked as if covered by some white-flowered climbing plant, or else laden with white fruit. This appearance was due to the extraordinary number of two species of snails (Helix lactea and H. explanata) that completely covered the branches. We frequently noticed the same appearance afterwards, but nowhere so markedly as here.

Towards the foot of the first and most conspicuous of the hills above mentioned, which bears the inappropriate name Hank el Gemmel (Camel’s back), the plain rises gently rather more than one hundred feet in all; above this the slope of the hill becomes steep, and finally exhibits an almost vertical face at the top. At the foot of the steeper slope, about four hours’ ride from Aïn Oumast, our track passed by an ancient well, now almost dry, and often completely so; and here, under the imperfect shade of a lotus tree, we made a short halt. The direct rays of the sun being very powerful, we were somewhat surprised to find the temperature of the air to be only 77° Fahr. Leaving our escort, we ascended the low but steep hill above the well. The scarped face exhibited a section of the yellowish-white limestone that appears to underlie nearly the whole of the low country between the coast and the base of the Atlas. No fossils were found; and in the present state of our knowledge, or rather ignorance, of the whole region, it seems impossible to fix its position in the geological series. The level summit is capped by a thin layer of coarse chalcedony, in which we recognised the origin of the siliceous fragments scattered over the plain below. This layer would offer resistance to superficial denudation, and account for the tabular forms of the hills, but where these were attacked from below by marine or river action the covering would necessarily be broken up and the fragments scattered over the plain below. With reference to the opinion expressed by Maw in his paper in the Proceedings of the Geological Society, and in the Appendix to this volume, as to the origin of the tufaceous coating of the plain between Aïn Oumast and Marocco, the only difficulty that presents itself arises from the presence of these siliceous fragments on the surface along with the disintegrated tufa. If, as he and other geologists believe, such a superficial coating is due to evaporation from the underlying mass of water charged with carbonate of lime, it seems hard to account for the diffusion of the chalcedony fragments, unless we suppose a submergence of the plain subsequent to the formation of the tufa layer, and a renewed supply of such fragments by further erosion of the hills that formed the sea or river coast line. To confirm this conjecture, we may note the fact that the fragments of chalcedony became progressively rarer as we advanced from the lower portion of the plain over which we this day travelled to the upper level surrounding the city of Marocco.

The summit of the hill was found to be 1,648 feet (502·4 m.) above the sea and 303 feet above the well at its base. It was barren, yet supplied a few additional plants to our collection. Frankenia revoluta was abundant, as was also a lavender somewhat intermediate in appearance between Lavandula multifida of the Southern Mediterranean shores and L. abrotanoides of the Canary Islands. We also found a form of Cotyledon hispanica of Linnæus (Pistorinia hispanica of Decandolle), with pale yellow flowers, intermediate in some respects between the common plant of Southern Spain and P. Salzmanniana of Boissier and Reuter.

Resuming our journey, we bore somewhat south of east over a country similar in character to that traversed in the forenoon, but not showing such a complete dead level surface. On the way we noticed for the first time Cucumis Colocynthis, one of the characteristic plants of the desert region, extending from Arabia and Southern Palestine across the entire of Northern Africa, but rarely approaching the littoral zone. Here, as near Suez and elsewhere, so far as we have observed, this plant is curiously infrequent. Growing as it does in a region where it has few rivals to contend with, and the surface is remarkably uniform, one yet finds but one or two individuals scattered at comparatively wide intervals over the stony plain. The fruits are used in Marocco to preserve woollen clothing from moths, but their purgative qualities do not seem to be known to the native doctors.

Here and there in this part of our route we encountered small blocks of volcanic rock—trap or basalt—as to the origin of which we have no information. We have no grounds for supposing eruptive action to have occurred in this region within a period so recent as that subsequent to the formation of the tufa which covers the whole surface of the lower country, and it is not easy to account for the transport of these blocks from a distance after its formation.

The direct heat of the sun was great in the afternoon, and the way barren and monotonous, so that it was with thorough satisfaction that, on reaching the summit of a slight swelling rise on the plain, at near 5 P.M., we saw before us a green shallow basin, at the farther end of which our eyes rested gladly on the abundant foliage of gardens and orchards. A stream from the Great Atlas, diverted into numerous slender irrigation channels, is the source of this apparent fertility, but so much of the water is taken up in this way that only a trifling surplus remains; and, save after heavy rains, it seems that a mere streamlet flows northward to join the Oued Tensift, the chief river of South-western Marocco. The green that gladdened our eyes seemed to have given but deceptive promise, for we at first entered on a scrub formed exclusively of Chenopodicaeous bushes, including Arthrocnemum fruticosum, Caroxylon articulatum, Suæda fruticosa, and Atriplex Halimus.

The same thing happens here that may be noticed in the neighbourhood of the freshwater canal in the Isthmus of Suez. Where the soil contains a quantity of soluble salts, the first effect of admitting moisture by irrigation is to form a salt marsh, which becomes covered with its own characteristic vegetation; but if the surface is so disposed as to allow the percolation of fresh water, the salts are gradually carried off, the salt marsh is converted into fertile land, and the ugly Chenopodiaceæ disappear. Accordingly, after traversing a broad belt of scrub, we soon found ourselves amidst luxuriant vegetation, and saw our tents, which had preceded us, pitched under the shade of tall fig-trees, in one of the orchards belonging to the village of Sheshaoua. This place is a true oasis, and an abundant growth of fig, olive, pomegranate, apple, plum, and apricot, with an undergrowth of grasses and herbaceous plants, affords a striking contrast to the desert tracts surrounding it.

The vegetation of the irrigated land, excepting a few tall palms, was almost exclusively European; and not without pleasure we gathered many common English species, such as our common bramble, dandelion, charlock, Sisymbrium Irio, Geranium dissectum, Hypochæris radicata, Sonchus oleraceus, Lycopus europæus, Plantago major, Rumex pulcher, Carex divisa, and Scirpus Holoschænus.

The usual mona was sent soon after our arrival; and the local governor, a deputy of the Governor of Marocco, paid a visit of ceremony in the evening. He was a black of nearly pure Negro type, and in all probability originally a slave. We were not then familiar with the fact that slaves frequently rise in Marocco to the highest posts in the State. The body-guard of the Sultan is exclusively recruited among the black population, either voluntary immigrants, or slaves imported young from Timbuctoo. These form the only troops in the country that can be relied on to repress internal disorder, though in case of war with a European Power there is little doubt that the whole Moorish population would respond to an appeal to their patriotism and fanaticism. Whether the same would hold good as to the Bereber tribes of the Great and Lesser Atlas may be much doubted. With these the sentiment of national, or rather tribal, independence is the predominant feeling, and so long as an invader kept aloof from their native valleys they could not be easily moved to action. It naturally happens that an absolute ruler, too conscious of his slight claim on the affections of his own people, is led to prefer men whose prominent virtue is that of the dog—attachment and fidelity to him who feeds them. When it is considered that, in addition, the Negro often possesses far more energy than the Moor, united to at least equal natural intelligence, it may be believed that the rulers of Marocco have shown no want of policy in favouring this section of the population.

The thermometer about sunset stood at 72° Fahr., while in the water flowing beside our camp it marked but 62°. At 1 A.M., when we had concluded our nightly task in laying out our plants, it had fallen to 52°, and rose only to 57° an hour after sunrise, when the barometer was recorded, and gave an estimated altitude of 1,141 feet (347·8 m.), or almost exactly the same as that of Aïn Oumast. The coolness of night temperature throughout this region of Northern Africa doubtless contributes to make the climate not only healthy but favourable to human activity; and it was impossible for us not to speculate at times on a possible, though remote, future, when this may become the home of a prosperous and progressive community.

Early rising does not always mean an early start, and many delays occurred on the morning of May 2, before our caravan was fairly under way at about 9 o’clock. On leaving our encampment, we perceived, on rising ground close at hand, the remains of an ancient town, with stone houses, for the most part in ruins, but some of them still inhabited, and a kasbah or castle of somewhat imposing appearance. We failed to obtain any information as to these buildings, which may probably be of considerable antiquity. It must be remembered that throughout the portion of Marocco inhabited by an Arab population permanent houses are unknown, excepting in the coast towns and the royal cities of Marocco, Fez, and Mekines. The country people live in douars, which are merely groups of rude dwellings, half hovel half tent, usually formed of branches, over which a piece of camel’s hair cloth is stretched, and leaving no wreck behind when choice or necessity leads their inhabitants to remove from one spot to another. Even the Governor’s kasbah, though often a pile of large dimensions, rarely survives a single generation. The great wall and massive towers surrounding it, as well as the building itself, are constructed of unbaked bricks or of blocks of mud half dried in the sun; and save in cases where a son succeeds his father in power, the custom of the country is to level the whole structure to the ground on the death or removal of the occupant. A few seasons complete the work, and nothing remains but a few mounds of clay to mark the site. Thus it happens that in a country of which the greater part is naturally fertile, the stranger may travel long distances without perceiving a trace of human habitations, or any other buildings than the zaouias and koubbas, which are scattered over the country at unequal intervals. By these names are designated the tombs of persons, who, when alive, attained a reputation for sanctity, differing only in the rank which they hold in local estimation. The person over whose remains a zaouia is constructed may be regarded as the patron saint of the tribe or province, while the koubba marks the resting-place of a saint of less renown.

We soon left behind us the irrigated ground, and entered on a barren region, less absolutely sterile than that of the preceding day’s journey, and having a more varied vegetation. Blocks of black volcanic rock were more frequent, and of larger size, indicating that we were nearer to the place of their origin, wherever that may be. In some spots Artemisia Herba alba was the predominant plant, but we met several new species not before seen. One of the most curious of these is a white-flowered Picris (P. albida), afterwards seen at intervals in the low country, whose ligules wither so rapidly that we failed to secure any satisfactory specimens. Without becoming hilly, the surface lay in slight heaving undulations, the upward slope being always longest towards the east; and the same remark applied throughout the day’s ride. In about three hours we reached Aïn Beida, where a copious spring of excellent water fertilises a tract of about a square mile. We turned aside from our track to halt beneath a very fine pistachio tree,[3] fully forty feet high and two feet in diameter. The sun was very hot, though the temperature of the air was not more than 80° Fahr., and we were assured that our halting place for the night was only four hours’ distant; and so it happened that between luncheon, and rest, and short excursions into the blazing sunshine to botanise in the surrounding corn-fields, we did not resume our journey until 3.20 P.M. The baggage train as usual had gone on ahead; and as the evening light was fading fast, about 7.20 P.M., when we expected to be near our night quarters, some inquiry from our escort revealed two disagreeable facts: first, that we were still nearly two hours’ ride from Misra ben Kara; and secondly, that the baggage train had taken a different road. It is not surprising that such intelligence coming suddenly on three hungry and tired Englishmen, with the further prospect of passing the night without food or shelter, led to a vehement row, in which strong, if not intelligible language was discharged at the head of the worthy Kaïd El Hadj, the commander of our escort. The whole affair had probably arisen from some misunderstanding; but it was settled by sending two of the escort to ride at full gallop after the missing baggage train, while we jogged on sad and silent towards our destined quarters for the night. Being pressed for time, we had abstained from botanising by the way from Aïn Beida; but at one place we stopped to gather some extraordinarily fine specimens of Phelipæa lutea, which caught our eyes in the failing light. This is the king of the broomrape tribe; the stems stood four or five feet high, with sceptre-like spikes of large yellow flowers, nearly two feet long, but it was quite too dark to ascertain on what plant this curious parasite had attached itself.

The stars shone down with marvellous brilliancy on the desolate tract over which we rode in single file, always ascending slightly, and the chain of the Great Atlas stood out more definitely than we had yet seen it, when, at past 9 o’clock we reached Misra ben Kara, and found to our relief that the baggage train had just preceded us. About 11 P.M. some food was prepared, and, being fairly tired, we soon lay down for the night after a frugal meal. But not to sleep, for the furious barking of the dogs from the adjoining village, or douar, and the clatter kept up by our own people, did not let us close our eyes till the night was far spent.

On this, as on many another occasion, we were forced to admire the extraordinary endurance of the common people of this country. It was not mainly the amount of work they are able to accomplish, but their high spirits and cheerful demeanour under hardships and difficulties. Four of our men travelled on foot, walking or running at a jog trot under a burning sun, and on arrival in camp the same men were always ready for work in setting up tents, moving heavy luggage, and attending to the various wants of their employers. Having often to wait till midnight for their food, they would pass the time in lively talk, and after the stimulus of a draught of green tea, their renewed spirits generally broke out in the form of songs or chaunts that seemed interminable. Then, after three or four hours’ sleep, they were ready to begin again next morning with the same unflagging energy and spirit. During the day the men on foot resorted to a curious expedient for diminishing the effect of heat, by thrusting a stick down the back between the skin and their scanty woollen garment, and thus securing ventilation.

We were up soon after daybreak on May 3. Our camp was close to the wretched village of Misra ben Kara, a large collection of mere hovels put together with mud and dried branches, and enclosed, as the douar generally is, within a sort of rampart formed of the dried stems and branches of the Zizyphus Lotus, piled up to a height of eight or ten feet, through which a single opening gives admission to the inhabitants and their domestic animals. It stands at a short distance from the Oued Nyfs,[4] one of the chief streams flowing northward from the Great Atlas. We started about 7 A.M., and soon reached the banks, fringed with magnificent oleanders in full flower, below which the shallow stream runs in a deep bed. Like all the rivers of this country, this is liable to great oscillations; and though it seemed nowhere two feet deep when we crossed it, travellers are said to be sometimes detained for days, owing to the impossibility of fording the stream in rainy weather.

We found here a few plants not hitherto seen, but were especially pleased with an undescribed Statice (S. ornata, Ball), not found elsewhere on our journey, whose numerous bright amethyst blue flowers were scattered on long, slender, much-branched panicles.

On the east side of the river we fairly entered on the portion of the great plain immediately surrounding the city of Marocco, extending some thirty miles from west to east, and southward to the base of the Great Atlas. This is inclined upwards from west to east, and still more decidedly from north to south; but to the eye it appears a dead level, and the hills represented on Beaudouin’s map as approaching near to the city on the south and east have no existence in fact. The north-western border of the plain is, on the other hand, marked by prominent rough hills of a ruddy hue, as seen from a distance, which rose on our left as we advanced towards the city.

Some portion of these hills, seeming to form an interrupted range, extending along the north side of the Oued Tensift and parallel to its course, was traversed by Washington on his route from Azemor to Marocco in December, 1829. He estimates their height above the plain at from 500 to 1,200 feet, and describes the rock as schistose, with veins of quartz, the line of strike from north by east to south by west, and the dip 75°. To us it appeared that the higher summits, which perhaps do not lie near Washington’s track, must rise fully 2,000 feet above the plain. On the southern side of the Oued Tensift, and nearer to the city, are some lower hills, very similar in appearance to the others, and probably of similar geological structure. One of these, visited by Maw, is described as formed of very hard, dark, grey rock, with knotted white concretions elongated in the line of stratification, the strike from north-west to south-east, and the dip south-west, varying from 50° to 80°.

Our attention, commonly fixed on the vegetation of the country, was on this day chiefly engaged by the great range of mountains, no longer very distant, that bounded the horizon to the south. We had expected to find no difficulty in singling out the peak of Miltsin, described by Washington in the first volume of the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, as the highest peak of the Atlas visible from the city of Marocco, and the altitude of which, as determined by a rough trigonometrical measurement, he fixes at 11,400 English feet. Approaching the city by a very different route from that of Washington, we soon convinced ourselves that there is no summit visible in the main range much surpassing its rivals in height, and we subsequently came to the conclusion, that Miltsin, which appears somewhat higher than its neighbours in the view from the city, is situated somewhat on the north side of the watershed, and therefore nearer to the observer than any other lofty summit of the range. It may fairly be inferred from Washington’s account that he had no opportunity for measuring a base-line—such as could allow him to determine accurately the height of distant summits. The conclusion to which we now came, and which was confirmed by our subsequent observations, was that the part of the main range within sight of Marocco and its neighbourhood is remarkably uniform in height. There are many prominent points that probably approach the limit of 13,500 English feet, and no depressions that fall more than about 2,000 feet below that height, This, as will be seen hereafter, does not apply to the westerly part of the chain lying west of the sources of the Oued Nyfs, but this is only imperfectly seen from the neighbourhood of Marocco.

The day was hotter than any we had yet experienced, the temperature in the shade being about 85° Fahr., and the breeze which usually rises during the hottest hours was scarcely felt. But the vicinity of lofty mountains usually determines strong currents in the heated air, and these must have been at work, though unfelt by us. As we looked towards the mountain chain, we noticed lofty columns of sand or dust, remarkably uniform in shape, that travelled steadily westward across the plain in the opposite direction to the breeze, so far as this could be detected. At one time as many as three of these were seen at the same time, each moving independently. These miniature cyclones, arising from the interference of opposite currents of air, are not uncommon in the plains on the south side of the Alps, but are rarely to be seen on so great a scale as here.

About two hours after starting, the great tower of the chief mosque came into view, and one of our soldiers rode on ahead to announce our approach. Not long afterwards we met a courier bound for Mogador with letters for Mr. Carstensen, and we took the opportunity of reporting progress and sending him a few details as to our journey. In default of regular postal communication, which is not to be thought of in such a country, the facility for forwarding letters in Marocco is far greater than could be expected. For a few shillings a native is easily induced to make a journey of many days, and take care of letters, which always reach their destination. The reverence with which Mohammedan people generally regard all written communications—which may perchance contain the name of Allah—serves as a protection so effectual, that the loss of letters and despatches is scarcely ever heard of. These couriers travel forty or even fifty miles a day, and after a day’s rest are ready to return to the place whence they came. The chief object of Mr. Carstensen’s letter to Marocco had been to recommend us to the good offices of some wealthy and influential Moors, correspondents of English mercantile houses, and we were not long before experiencing the benefit of this piece of kindly attention.

The heat of the sun was much felt as we rode over the open plain, and it was suggested that we should do well to halt awhile, and await the return of the soldier who was to report to us the state of affairs in the city. The only spot on the way affording the slightest shelter is under the reclining trunk of a fine tree of Tamarix articulata, which had apparently been blown down, though still adhering to the ground by its roots, and throwing out vigorous shoots and branches. The remaining portion of the trunk was 24 feet long, and at 8 feet from the roots the girth was 7 feet 7 inches (2·32 m.) We saw no other specimen of this tree, characteristic of the semi-tropical region of Northern Africa; but our opportunities for exploring the country surrounding the city were very limited, and it seems probable that it is here indigenous, though the extreme scarcity of fuel may have led to its partial extermination. The slender twigs into which the branches are divided gave no protection from the sun; but, by throwing a carpet overhead, we extemporised a serviceable roof, whose shade was most welcome. Though bare to the eye, this part of the plain produced many small herbaceous plants, such as Notoceras canariensis, our native Coronopus Ruellii, Mesembryanthemum nodiflorum, and Schismus calycinus. The Mesembryanthemum is as common here as it is in the East; but the last-named grass, so characteristic of the skirts of the desert in Egypt and Arabia, seems to be rare in South Marocco.

Throughout our morning’s ride, as well as on the journey between Sheshaoua and Misra ben Kara, we noticed the apparently unaccountable way in which certain social species prevail over a considerable tract, and then suddenly give place to others, without any apparent reference to the composition of the soil. Where Chenopodiaceæ, such as Suæda and Caroxylon prevail, it is reasonable to conjecture the presence of nitre, gypsum, or other salts in the superficial layer; but such plants as Artemisia Herba alba, Genista monosperma, and a local form of Helianthemum virgatum will sometimes take almost exclusive possession of the surface, though this in some places is mainly composed of siliceous sand, in others of disintegrated calcareous tufa, and in others of decomposed volcanic rock, nowhere seen by us in situ, but derived from scattered blocks of various sizes. In the plain near the city siliceous sand predominates, and, as a consequence, the vegetation is more meagre than elsewhere.

We hereabouts first saw the only works of public utility which we encountered during our journey. What first struck the eye were long lines of irregular earthen mounds traversing the plain in a north and south direction, and we soon ascertained that these were watercourses rudely arched over. The streams from the mountains south of the city are distributed through irrigation canals over a large part of the plain, and thus render it fit for cultivation. Early experience must have taught the people that by protecting these canals from evaporation, they could be made available to a much greater extent; and it is probable that the construction of these covered waterways, some of which were in a ruinous condition, goes back to a remote period. In point of fact, the whole drainage of three considerable valleys, whose torrents we afterwards crossed, appears to be intercepted by this irrigation process, and absorbed by the vegetation of the plain. It is probable that by the skilful extension of the same system wide tracts, now barren, might be made productive.