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CHAPTER VII.

Choice of a route in the Atlas — Difficulty of procuring information — Hills near the city — Panorama of the Great Atlas — Probable height of the range — Wild birds of Marocco — Condition of the Jews — Departure from the city — Farewell interview with El Graoui — District of Mesfioua — Interview with the Kaïd — Approach to the Great Atlas — Aspect of the vegetation — Castle of Tasseremout — Washington’s visit — Jewish suppliants — Great boulder mounds — Ourika valley — Peculiarities of Moorish character — Rapacity of our escort.

On returning from our interview with El Graoui, we felt that our most urgent want was reliable information about the districts mentioned by him as within the possible range of our expedition. Hooker had already ordered Abraham to make inquiry for some one who had actually travelled eastward from the city into the mountain country; but such a person was by no means so easily found as a stranger might suppose. The few Moors who ever go into the interior are cut off from communication with the natives by ignorance of the language; and, besides this, the Moor is usually too incurious and intellectually sluggish to carry away information about anything not directly concerning his own business or pleasure. Had our stay in Marocco been prolonged, we might perhaps have been able to collect some details as to the interior provinces from natives of the mountain valleys who must from time to time resort to the city; but it is very doubtful whether a Christian stranger could obtain anything reliable in this way. People constantly forget how wide the gap is that separates the mind of a modern European from that of the inhabitant of a barbarous country, where the conditions of society are such that apprehension of danger to life and property becomes the predominant feeling. The notion that a man can care to acquire knowledge of any kind for its own sake is not for a moment admitted, and suspicion is necessarily the first feeling aroused by any inquiry, however apparently harmless. Bearing this in mind, we often felt astonishment at the share of success that has been attained by some geographers, and especially by Captain Beaudouin, the author of the French War Office map of Marocco. It is true that some large portions of that map are quite unreliable, and that it contains many grave errors as to the direction of the mountain ranges and valleys; but, considering that the greater part of it was compiled by the comparison of itineraries and descriptions furnished by a large number of separate native informants, the wonderful thing is that in many districts it should approach so near to accuracy as it does; and it undoubtedly shows a very remarkable degree of care, patience, and intelligence on the part of its author.

In the course of the afternoon, Abraham brought to us an elderly Jew, named Salomon ben Daoud, described as a man employed by the merchants trading with the interior, and familiar with all the roads leading to those parts of South Marocco with which the people of the city have any intercourse. The contrast between the appearance of this man and that of the Moors was complete. He had something of the downcast, long-suffering expression common among his coreligionists in this country, but an unmistakable air of intelligence that at once made him interesting. It was easy to understand that, although despised and often ill-used by the governing race, these people by their superior brain-power have contrived to make themselves indispensable to their masters, and that all people in authority, from the Sultan to the deputy-governor, are forced to rely upon them. Although Salomon was able to answer readily most of our questions respecting the several routes leading from Marocco into the neighbouring portions of the Great Atlas, it was inevitable that the information given by an uneducated man should fall very far short of what we should have desired; and the abundant catalogue of names of places—very few of them possible to be identified on the map—which he glibly enumerated, rather tended to confuse than to clear up our understanding of the country. With a view to mature deliberation on a point of such importance Salomon was requested to write down the chief particulars which he had given us verbally; and his memorandum, written in Hebrew, was afterwards translated by Abraham. This translation, checked by the memoranda taken down at the time by Ball, is printed in Appendix B, and affords a slight contribution towards the topography of a portion of Marocco hitherto completely unknown to Europeans.

The morning of Saturday, May 6, found us still in doubt as to our future course; but, on a careful review of the whole matter, we adopted a decision of which we saw no subsequent reason to repent. It appeared that if we decided on pushing forward into the interior of the country we might be able to reach the head of the valley of the Tessout—the main western branch of the Oum-er-bia—lying probably about 120 miles due east of Marocco. The portion of the Atlas chain whence that stream flows is in all probability as high as the range seen from the city, and perhaps somewhat higher, and the district through which we should travel was and still remains a complete terra incognita, as to which Beaudoin’s map is almost certainly incorrect.[1] Against these strong inducements we had, however, to set many weighty reasons in favour of the alternative course, which consisted in at once directing our steps towards the main chain south-east of the city, and thence travelling gradually towards the Atlantic coast, penetrating in succession to the head of as many of the chief valleys as circumstances should allow.

The first course was open to the objection that, under any circumstances, it would involve a considerable amount of travelling through a comparatively uninteresting country—at least four days, and probably six, for the route to and fro between Marocco and Demenet, and four days at least for returning to Mogador; and further, that if difficulties should arise to prevent us from reaching the head of the Tessout valley, we might possibly miss altogether the main object of our journey by failing to reach the higher region of the Great Atlas. On the other hand, by coasting along the northern skirts of the chain, and penetrating as many valleys as might be found practicable, we should avoid altogether the need for retracing any part of our course, and might reasonably expect to reach a part of the chain whence a couple of days’ ride would carry us back to Mogador. The strongest argument was, however, the consideration that by choosing the latter route we should have numerous chances of accomplishing our desire to reach the upper part of the mountain range, and that if we should find impassable obstacles in one or another valley, we should yet have an unimpaired chance of succeeding elsewhere. Hooker’s strong impression that our future course would not be unopposed gave especial weight to the latter view, and the sequel will show that we were well advised. It was therefore decided to apply to El Graoui for letters to all the Kaïds of the valleys subject to his authority in the range extending from Tasseremout to the borders of Haha, while, with a view to a possible change in our course, he was also requested to write to the Governor of Demenet.

In one way or other the days passed in Marocco were so fully occupied as to leave no leisure, and Maw alone was able to afford time for an excursion to one of the low hills on the south side of the Oued Tensift, seen on the left of the track by which we had approached the city. The nearest of these—a rough mass of metamorphic rock, rising nearly 800 feet above the level of the plain—is only about three miles distant from the walls.

Our regret at not having been able to accompany Maw on this excursion was much increased when towards evening he returned with a number of interesting plants, several of which proved to be additions to the Marocco flora. The most notable of these was an undescribed species of the tropical and subtropical genus Boerhavia, and a curious Reseda, seemingly distinct from any described species. Besides these, he had gathered a variety of Forskåhlea tenacissima described by the late Mr. Webb as F. Cossoniana, Andropogon laniger, a fine grass whose leaves have the scent of Verbena, Echinops strigosus, and one or two more species characteristic of the flora of Southern Algeria.

Maw also visited some of the bazaars, and described them as miserable and repulsive, and we preferred to let the carpet merchant who had been recommended to us bring his goods to our quarters. The carpets made here are not considered equal to those of Rabat, but they are comparatively cheap and durable. On inquiring how our purchases could be forwarded to Mogador, we found that the hire of a camel with his driver for this weary four or five days’ journey amounted only to about seven shillings of our money, and that the risk of robbery was considered too trifling to be worth mentioning.

The comparison of five observations, taken on as many successive days, gives for the altitude of our station in Marocco a height of 511·9 mètres, or 1,679 English feet. Allowing for the difference of level, the height of the great square may be taken to be very closely 500 mètres or 1,640 English feet. The observations were calculated on the assumption that the barometer at sea level at Mogador stood at 760 millimètres, and hence it is not surprising that the results of each day’s observation vary from the mean, in some cases as much as fifty feet; but, as settled weather prevailed at this period, the mean adopted is probably very near the truth. Most of the results of our observations (see Appendix) agree well with the few observations previously made in the interior by M. Beaumier and M. Balansa; but in this instance there is a difference of seventy mètres (or 230 English feet), M. Beaumier’s result being 430 mètres above the sea. No particulars are given by him as to the instruments used, or the methods of observations and reduction, and we feel no hesitation in provisionally adopting the height resulting from our own observations.

As may well be supposed, the object that most fully and constantly engaged our attention during our stay in Marocco was the view of the Great Atlas range, for which the terraced roof of our house afforded every needful facility. The interest attaching to an almost unknown chain of great mountains was enhanced by the hope of penetrating its recesses. We were often tantalised by finding clouds hanging about the flanks, or clinging to the higher peaks, as happened during the latter days of our stay, but there was always enough to be seen to reward our attention. We were able to identify the mountain, Miltsin, which Washington took to be the highest peak in the Atlas chain visible from Marocco; but we had already, during the last day’s journey before entering the city, satisfied ourselves that there is no summit visible from the plain of Marocco that can claim any marked predominance over its neighbours. Travelling, as we were, nearly parallel to the main chain, we were far more favourably placed than Washington, who approached the city from the NNW., and always viewed the chain from nearly the same direction. The crest is undoubtedly more sinuous than it appears as laid down on the map, or when seen from a distance; some of the projecting summits are therefore nearer to the eye than others; but it appeared to us then, and our subsequent experience only strengthened that belief, that most of the peaks or prominences in the higher portion of the chain seen from the plain of Marocco, in a distance of fifty or sixty miles, attain to very nearly the same height.

Washington speaks of a base-line of seventeen miles which served him for his trigonometrical observations, but it is obvious from his narrative that this cannot have been measured so as to admit of much accuracy in his results. As a matter of fact, it appears from his map and accompanying section, and from the narrative of his excursion to Tagherain, that Washington considerably underrated the distance from the city to the crest of the Great Atlas. His Miltsin is doubtless a summit near the head of the Ourika valley, which apparently stands some short way north of the axis of the chain. According to the scale of his map Miltsin is twenty-seven and a half geographical miles distant from the house which he occupied, whereas it is impossible to estimate the true distance at less than thirty-three geographical miles. If we allow for the height of Marocco above the sea level, and increase the estimated height of Miltsin in the ratio of its true distance to that assumed by Washington, we get for the height of the peak 13,352 feet (4,069·6 m.) above the sea, which is perhaps somewhat above the true measurement.

Owing to the prevalence of clouds during the latter period of our stay in Marocco, we failed to secure a satisfactory outline of the Atlas chain; but, through the kindness of Sir J. D. Hay, we are enabled to insert a copy of a drawing made by the late Mr. William Prinsep, who accompanied the mission to Marocco in December, 1829. The view of the same range given in Jackson’s generally accurate work must have been done from description or from imperfect recollection, as it bears no resemblance to nature.

We had been many times struck by the demeanour of the wild birds during our journey from Mogador. They seem in this country to be quite free from what we look on as the instinctive fear of man, which in truth is an inherited tendency only in those countries where the human population habitually pursues them. As we rode along, the turtle doves, which abound wherever there are trees or bushes, scarcely seemed to notice our passage, and would remain perched upon a bough close beside the track. Here in the city of Marocco a small bird about the size of a sparrow, but much more elegant in shape and attractive from its green-grey plumage—the Fringillaria Saharæ—displayed still greater boldness. During our meals, which were always taken in the central saloon open to the sky, they would boldly alight beside us, and pick up the crumbs that were sometimes purposely scattered for their benefit.

We saw nothing of the harmless serpents, one of which at least is said to inhabit every house in Marocco, and which the natives consider it unlucky to destroy or drive away. Probably they find the food that suits them only in inhabited houses, and ours had been so long untenanted that they had deserted the empty rooms.

Sunday, May 7, was fully employed in completing the arrangements for our journey, and packing up the botanical collections already secured. Our men had doubtless enjoyed the rest, and were gratified by a distribution of new shoes, or rather slippers, which replaced those pretty thoroughly worn out on the journey from Mogador. In a country where the surface is generally stony, and the soil abounds in plants beset by thick sharp spines, the thin slippers universally used by the people are very soon consumed.

Abraham appeared to-day gorgeously arrayed in a new suit, with dark yellow boots such as are worn by Moors of the better class. He had grown much in importance during the last few days, since, in his capacity as our interpreter, he, a Jew, has sat with his slippers on in the presence of El Graoui, the most powerful subject in Marocco.

With regard to the position of the Jews, there can be no doubt that the benevolent efforts of Sir Moses Montefiore, backed up by the representatives of England and other civilised States, have produced some permanent effect. In the coast towns, under the eyes of European consular agents, they seem to enjoy security from violence, and even from insult. In the city of Marocco, where they inhabit a separate quarter, walled in and accessible only by two gates, they are safe so long as they keep within those limits; but they are still forced to walk barefoot when they pass into the city, and are exposed to derision and insult against which they dare not protest. In the remoter parts of the territory, where their scattered communities are found here and there, their condition is apparently still worse, and they are frequently subjected to brutal ill-usage; but even there their superior intelligence and skill in industrial crafts, for which the Moor is incompetent, secures them a certain degree of consideration.[2]

We this day made acquaintance with Kaïd el Hasbi, the captain of the escort of five men, who, along with our Mogador guard, was to travel with us through the Atlas. Nature had given him a disagreeable countenance with a forbidding expression, and our subsequent experience fully confirmed the first unfavourable impression.

It had been arranged that our first day’s journey from Marocco was to be a short one, and accordingly our final start on Monday, May 8, was delayed until 8 A.M. Our large tent, too heavy for mules, had been sent back to Mogador; but, nevertheless, our baggage formed a very sufficient load for nine mules. Not counting our interpreter and Hooker’s European attendant, we had nine followers engaged in various capacities, besides twelve men in charge of the hired animals, making up altogether, with the escort, who numbered nine privates and two officers, a party of thirty-seven men and thirty-three horses and mules. We wound slowly through the filthy lanes of the Jews’ quarter, and went out by the south-east gate of the city, having on our right the high wall that encloses the vast gardens attached to the Sultan’s residence. Having entered the city through groves of the date-palm, the foliage of which is too tough for the teeth of the locust, we had scarcely noticed these pernicious creatures on that occasion; but in the well-irrigated tracts south and west of the city which are devoted to tillage they had this year been more than usually destructive. It is in their young condition, while still active on the wing, that their voracity is greatest; but in that stage it is practically impossible to contend with them. When they have attained their full growth they become unwieldy, and at length nearly torpid; and it is then that the natives endeavour to exterminate them, with a view to prevent the females from depositing their countless eggs and leaving to the district a legacy of future devastation.

It seemed that El Graoui, for his own reasons, wished to give us a parting testimony of good-will and favour, without at the same time committing himself too glaringly for native ideas. It was not, doubtless, by mere accident that about a mile outside the walls we found him close to our track, with a train of mounted attendants, superintending the process of locust slaughter, and were informed that he wished to bid us farewell. Mounted on a splendid black charger, the old man, in spite of his unwieldy figure, had a commanding appearance. His manner was quite friendly; and, as the brief conversation proceeded, he rode along with us for a couple of hundred yards, and then shook hands with many good wishes for our safety and success.

The process of locust destruction which El Graoui was supposed to superintend was of the rudest description. The bodies of the bloated sluggish insects are swept into heaps with rough brooms, and a fire of twigs is then lighted over each heap. On the way from Sektana to Mogador, Maw afterwards saw another more expeditious process adopted in a part of the country intersected by open irrigation channels. Rough screens made of reeds are set up along one side of the watercourse, as shown in the annexed cut, and the inactive insects, being driven against them, fall into the water and are drowned. Some effect may doubtless be produced by these contrivances; but it seems very doubtful whether, if every locust that reaches the inhabited districts were destroyed, the plague would be materially abated. In a region including wide tracts almost without population there are unlimited opportunities for depositing the eggs; from these arise countless swarms, which, in their active condition, are capable of traversing wide spaces in search of nourishment. The suppression of the locust plague probably

awaits the spread of some creature to which their eggs would afford suitable food.

In great measure influenced by Washington’s account of his visit to Tasseremout, and his conviction that from that place the highest ridge of the Atlas might be reached in a single day’s excursion, we had decided on making that our first halting-place; and, as the distance can be little over twenty miles, we reckoned on reaching it by evening. Our way lay about due south-east through the district of Mesfioua, which is under the rule of a Kaïd, or subgovernor, subject to the orders of El Graoui.

To the eye the country seems a dead level; but the rapid flow of water in the covered channels and smaller open rivulets showed that the slope of the ground from south to north is very decided. Along the smaller watercourses we noticed in abundance what appeared to be a new Pulicaria, but was afterwards found to be the same as an eastern species (P. longifolia) described by Boissier.

We rode along in high spirits, delighted to leave the city, and still more with the near prospect of setting foot on the mountain chain whose unknown recesses had so long been a fascination for us; and the only drawback on our enjoyment was the shifting veil of clouds that hung about the higher summits, only now and then allowing some rugged peak to stand out for a few moments. As we gradually drew nearer, our attention was more and more fixed on the remarkable line of flat-topped bluffs, conspicuous in the view from the city, that extends for a distance of fully twenty miles along the base of the Atlas chain, and on the east side seems to jut out in a northern direction. From a distance the face appears quite precipitous and almost vertical, and there is but one conspicuous break in its continuity. This, as we afterwards found, is caused by the stream running under Tasseremout, which has cut a deep channel through the barrier.

After riding about three hours we approached an inhabited place, which we were told was the residence of the Kaïd. We had left behind us the tract of country ravaged by locusts, and the general aspect of things was here much brighter than we had beheld since leaving the coast region. The more brilliant green and more vigorous growth of herbaceous plants led us to infer that, irrespective of the influence of irrigation, the zone extending round the base of the mountain region must receive at least some share of the more frequent rains that occur there at seasons when the low country in general is condemned to utter drought. On reaching the kasbah of the Kaïd, which showed as a low but substantial building, with walls sloping outward, we were accosted by an official deputed to apologise for the absence of his chief, who was to return towards evening, and to invite us to halt there for the remainder of the day. As it was now about noon, this proposition was met at once by a decided negative, when the chief of our Marocco escort intervened and, with an air of dogged insistance, urged the necessity for a halt. There ensued the first of many an altercation with the same disagreeable person, in which it is needless to say that Hooker’s decision and firmness prevailed, and the order went forth to continue our journey.

Amongst the bushes near at hand we for the first time gathered a curious, but no way ornamental, Cruciferous plant, first found by M. Balansa, which exhibits the only distinct generic type yet found in the interior of South Marocco, and has been described by M. Cosson under the name Ceratocnemum rapistroides. It here grew four or five feet high, with long slender branches; but in open places we afterwards found it in comparatively stunted condition—a foot, or less, in height.

The country, after quitting the kasbah, gradually changed its character. Scattered blocks of moderate size showed themselves with increasing frequency, and seemed to be of very varied composition. Some were formed of a coarse-grained sandstone or fine conglomerate, others appeared to be granitic, though deficient in mica, while others looked like porphyry. The restrictions by which we were bound prevented us from undertaking any close examination, and still more from attempting to carry away specimens. The predominance of silex in the soil was made apparent by the vegetation. We had already often admired the pretty little rose-coloured Spergularia diandra, common on sandy soil throughout Southern Marocco; but this here became a conspicuous ornament; its numerous delicate flowers forming large cushions of bright colour on the surface of the soil. Among other characteristic species not before seen were Aïzoon canariense and a new species of Anthemis; but the predominant element in the vegetation was furnished by the Leguminosæ, and especially by the genera Trifolium, Medicago, Ononis, and Lotus. Of the first two genera we found in the lower region none but the common Mediterranean species, while the others displayed many local forms. One Ononis here found was altogether new; and a Lotus, not elsewhere seen in our journey, seemed identical with an Oriental species not hitherto found west of Greece.

As we advanced, the upward slope of the ground towards the foot of the great range became much more perceptible, though still very gradual. At near 4 P.M., we arrived at another house belonging to the Kaïd of Mesfioua, and were informed that that functionary was waiting to receive us, and expected us to halt there for the night. The instinctive feeling of an Englishman who has made up his mind to accomplish a certain distance in his day’s journey is to close his ears to any suggestion of delay, and all the more decidedly when there is reason to think that other people are scheming to oppose him; so at first it seemed as if we should have further altercation with our escort. But as prudence pointed out that, whatever the feelings of the local authorities might be in our regard, it would be injudicious to do anything to give offence, and as at the same time the appearance of the country near at hand promised good botanising, we speedily decided on making a virtue of necessity, and with sufficiently good grace agreed to pitch our tents. By this time the Kaïd had come out to receive us, but retired after a brief salutation, it being understood that conversation was reserved till evening.

Without loss of time, we sallied forth with our portfolios, attended by one of the soldiers who was supposed to watch over our safety, and directing our steps to a dry river-bed that winds through the plain close by, were rewarded for our self-denial by finding a number of interesting plants not before seen. The most conspicuous of these was a Tamarix, which in some places grew thickly near the banks. It is remarkable for the bright pink colour of the seed vessel, and differed much in general aspect, though not widely in structure, from the common T. gallica. The river-bed is probably the natural channel of the stream that flows below Tasseremout, part of which is diverted into irrigation channels, but during rainy weather resumes its original course.

As the sun declined the clouds cleared away from the higher ridges of the Atlas, of which we enjoyed the finest view we had yet attained. Nearly due east and thence bearing towards ESE., was a group of high summits which, to judge from several large patches of snow, must be quite as lofty as that nearer to us. Between this, which belongs as we believe to the district called Glaoui, and the nearer range it was clear that a considerable valley runs deep into the chain. The drainage of this valley must flow to the Oued Tensift; but whether that be the main eastern branch of the river, or an affluent not indicated on the maps, is as yet uncertain.

After dinner, we adjourned from our tent to pay our promised visit to the Kaïd, who, according to custom, had green tea served in a small low room, which was reached through intricate passages. As a matter of course, the object of our journey was the chief topic of conversation. Among other plants we spoke of the furbioun,[3] or Gum Euphorbium, which we knew to be produced by a cactoïd Euphorbia that grows about the base of the Great Atlas, east of the city of Marocco. Concurrent native testimony fixes the province of Demenet as its chief home; and it must be very rare, or altogether absent, in the districts traversed by us, as it is scarcely possible that it should have been overlooked. Apparently conciliated by some trifling presents, the Kaïd informed us that he had in his garden some plants brought from Demenet, and offered one of these, which was safely forwarded to Kew, as a gift to Hooker.

When nearly ready to start on the morning of May 9, we were informed that the Kaïd meant to accompany us on the way to Tasseremout.[4] This caused a slight delay, which was not unpleasantly occupied in looking around us. The morning air was delightfully cool (58° Fahr. at 6 A.M.), although the day before had been hot, and at 11 P.M. the thermometer had fallen only to 73°. The position of the Kaïd’s dwelling was in itself very beautiful, in the midst of a fertile country encircled by hills, and these backed by a majestic range of lofty mountains. The line of escarpment skirting the base of the Atlas, already distinctly seen in the view from Marocco, was conspicuous on the eastern side, but towards the south was partly concealed by fine olive groves. The mean of two nearly concordant observations gives for the height of this place 2,399 feet (731·1 m.) above the sea.

At about 7 A.M. we moved, and, crossing the dry riverbed, very soon began to ascend among low hills, apparently formed by erosion from an upper plateau that surrounds the base of the mountains. We often rode along hollow ways between high banks or lofty hedges formed of tangled shrubs and climbing plants, in which were mingled some familiar forms with several altogether new to us. A dog-rose, scarcely distinguishable from the common British Rosa canina, was common in some places, along with profuse masses of Ephedra altissima and other southern forms. Climbing high over all these was a beautiful Coronilla, with very large white and lilac-blue flowers. We knew that a fine species of this genus, first brought from Marocco by Broussonnet, had been formerly cultivated in England, though long since lost from our gardens; but the Coronilla viminalis figured by Salisbury shows yellow flowers, and is placed amongst the shrubby species of the genus. It was clear that in the plant before us the stems die down nearly to the root every winter; and our belief that this was an entirely new species only yielded to subsequent careful examination, which proved that it is no other than Broussonnet’s plant.

The date-palm had disappeared soon after we entered the hills; here, and elsewhere on our route, it seems to be confined to the lower region, rarely attaining the level of 3,000 feet above the sea. Its place was here supplied by the palmetto (Chamærops humilis), which seldom forms a trunk, perhaps because it is not allowed to attain a sufficient age. As we advanced, the vegetation constantly offered a more varied and attractive aspect; and one of our first prizes was a new species of thyme (Thymus maroccanus, Ball), somewhat like the species of the Argan zone, but with oblong leaves and uncoloured bracts. Of comparatively familiar forms there were Cistus monspeliensis, and C. polymorphus, the first species of that genus that we had seen in South Marocco, the pretty little Cleonia lusitanica, with many other Labiatæ. Of plants new to our eyes by far the most interesting was the curious Polygala Balansæ. To those who know only the milkworts of Europe and North America, it must seem strange to hear of a large shrubby Polygala, with branches that end in a sharp point, few small leaves, so quickly deciduous that it generally appears quite leafless, and large flowers of a showy purple-red colour. In truth, although there is great variety of form in this large genus, the species which is common throughout the lower valleys of the Great Atlas is very distinct from all its congeners. In Arabia and South Africa there are some species forming dwarf bushes with spinescent branches, but in other respects very different. When full grown this is six or eight feet in height; and the round, green, almost leafless stems give it, when the flowers are absent, much the appearance of Spartium junceum, the large broom of Southern Europe.

After riding some way up a rather steep stony track, we reached a grove of very fine olive trees, and our escort came to a halt. We had reached Tasseremout. For some time we had seen a large pile of solid masonry which crowned the hill immediately above the olive grove. This seemed to deserve a visit; but, on the other hand, the attractions of the surrounding vegetation were irresistible to botanists. The matter was settled by Hooker proceeding to visit the castle with the Kaïd, while Ball botanised,

and Maw secured living specimens of some of the more interesting plants.

The castle of Tasseremout is one out of a large number of similar buildings standing on the northern outworks of the Great Atlas chain that will afford interesting matter for inquiry to future travellers when the country becomes more accessible, and the lessened jealousy of the natives will make a thorough examination of them less impossible than it would be at present. The natives vaguely attribute their construction to Christians or Romans, the same word conveying either meaning; but the Jews often explain this to mean Portuguese. The general character of these buildings, as far as our information goes, is tolerably uniform. The walls are of great thickness and built of rough hewn stone: the arches are always rounded and the lower chambers vaulted; and they are evidently places of defence. There is little reason to believe that the Portuguese, who held at one time or other most of the Atlantic coast of Marocco, ever established a firm footing inland, and still less that they had such a hold on South Marocco as would be implied by the erection of a chain of forts along the foot of the Atlas. On the other hand, the history of Mauritania during the long period of the decline of Rome, and preceding the Saracen conquest, is an almost complete blank, save for a few apocryphal stories. It is certain that the lower country was once completely subject to Roman power and Roman institutions, and it remains to be ascertained how far an organised government survived the weakening of the central authority. That the independent tribes of the Atlas may have been inconvenient neighbours to the half-Romanised inhabitants of the plain is more than probable, and that the forts should have been erected to hold the former in check seems the most likely conjecture as to their origin. Excavation, whenever that may be practicable, will scarcely fail to tell something of the original occupants of these buildings, and to diminish our ignorance of a dark period of past history.

As to the question which interested us most nearly, the Kaïd had at first been reserved; and when it became necessary to decide, his language was decidedly unfavourable. It was impossible, he said, to reach the high mountains with snow on them from Tasseremout. Any one attempting to do so would pass beyond his district, where he could not protect us, and he could not allow us to incur such a risk. We remembered Washington’s account of his winter excursion from this place; and, what was more curious, we found that a tradition of the visit of Christians who have gone up the mountains here many years before survived among the people. When, in December, 1829, the late Sir J. Drummond Hay was received at Marocco with great distinction by the then Sultan, it was arranged that, after taking leave of the sovereign, the party should enjoy two or three days’ hunting towards the foot of the Atlas, and they accordingly encamped somewhere below Tasseremout. Washington and some other officers attached to the mission resolved to take the opportunity for ascending the mountains as far as possible. At starting they evidently thought it practicable to attain the higher peaks from this place by a continuous ascent, and appear to have been surprised to find, after several hours’ climbing, when they had reached and somewhat passed the limit of the winter snow, that the ‘highest peaks were still far beyond their reach.’ To one familiar with high mountain countries, the natural course for attaining to the backbone of a considerable chain is by penetrating to the head of one of the deeper valleys; and the course taken by Washington’s party would appear no more promising than the attempt to scale Monte Rosa from the plain of Piedmont by ascending the mountains behind Ivrea. The mountain stream that flows below Tasseremout seems to come from the SE., where the range presents no conspicuous summits; whereas the higher points visible from our camp at Mesfioua lay nearly due south. We were therefore not inclined to insist on carrying out our original design of making Tasseremout our base of operations; and when we were told that the valley of Ourika, lying some distance to the west, led to the snowy mountains, we at once decided on moving thither in the course of the afternoon. To console us for our disappointment, the Kaïd invited us to a repast which, like the food supplied at Mesfioua, was much better cooked than usual. We especially appreciated some cakes, or bannocks, of wheaten flour that made an agreeable change from the biscuit to which we were often reduced.

Our impressions on this our first acquaintance with the outer region of the Great Atlas were very agreeable. The country appeared populous and fruitful. There was, indeed, little space for tillage, and that was of the rudest kind; but besides the olive, which attains a great size, the carob (Ceratonia Siliqua) and walnut, both growing to perfection, combine beauty with economic value. The common Opuntia, or Indian fig, also grows luxuriantly, and supplies an item in the diet of the natives.

Before we started, about 3 P.M. a body of miserable-looking Jews presented themselves, and offered a mona of olives, chilis, cakes of repulsive appearance, and some terrible spirituous liquor served in a battered tin teapot. When we excused ourselves on the ground that we had but just finished eating, they insisted that we should, at least, partake of the liquor. Abraham explained that we could not possibly drink out of a vessel so indescribably foul as the earthenware cup presented to us; whereupon one of the women lifted the skirt of her filthy petticoat, and proceeded to polish the cup to her own satisfaction. There was something pathetic in the abject air of these poor people, of whom there are many communities in this part of the Atlas. Born to suffering and oppression, they yet contrive to hold together, and even increase their numbers, thanks to superior intelligence and skill which make them almost indispensable to their neighbours. They are forced by law or custom to wear none but black outer garments, and the older men have high brimless cylindrical hats, tapering somewhat towards the top. They had taken it into their heads that Christian strangers travelling with a large escort must be persons of influence and authority, and had come to implore our favour and protection. The men concluded by kissing the skirts of our jellabias; and, as we were riding off, the women, who stood in a group behind, advanced and kissed our knees, in true Oriental fashion. We were assured by our interpreter, who naturally sympathised with the people of his own race, that they often suffer from ill-usage, for which there is absolutely no redress; but it does not appear that their condition is practically as bad as that of the same people in Roumania and some other so-called Christian States. In some respects, indeed, they are better off than their Mohammedan neighbours. Not suspected of wealth, their head-men are not liable to be ‘squeezed,’ and, living apart, they are not engaged in the intestine feuds of adjoining tribes, and not often victims of the cruelties that accompany them.

During our afternoon ride from Tasseremout to the Ourika river, our course lay to the SW., along the base of the escarpment which had so much attracted our notice from a distance; and much discussion arose as to the origin of the vast masses of boulders that were spread along the comparatively level shelf along which we rode, and descended, in some places at least, to the margin of the plain.

During the ascent from our camp of last night to Tasseremout, we first made acquaintance with these deposits, at a height of about 3,000 feet above the sea, that of the olive grove at Tasseremout being 3,534 feet. On the slope to the right of our track a mass of irregular weather-worn blocks of sandstone lay in disorder, the most prominent characteristic being that they were all of large size (measuring from ten to twenty cubic yards, according to Maw), with little or no intermixture of finer materials. Maw was disposed to consider these as glacial deposits;[5] but, among other difficulties, it was urged that the moraines of glaciers descending from a great mountain chain always include a large proportion of finer materials along with large blocks, and that these include fragments of the various rocks through which the glacier flows, while it was primâ facie improbable that such a mountain chain as that before us should be altogether formed of the sandstone of which, so far as we could see, the blocks before us were exclusively composed. Soon after leaving Tasseremout, we came to the opening of a narrow valley or ravine cutting through the escarpment, and exposing to view great piles of boulders similar to those seen below, but on a larger scale. After this, the escarpment showed an unbroken face for a distance of about ten miles. Seen near at hand the slope, which from a distance seemed nearly vertical, appeared to have an inclination of from 35° to 45°, and rose to an average height of about 1,000 feet above its base. The upper beds, whose exposed edges were everywhere seen, seemed to consist of hard limestone with siliceous concretions; while the lower beds were of less consistent shaly limestone.

The ground over which we rode in a SW. direction, parallel to the base of the escarpment, was very irregular in form, rising in places into mounds sloping inwards towards the cliffs as well as outwards towards the plain; and, although in great part covered with vegetation, it appeared pretty certain that the whole was composed of irregular masses of sandstone intermixed to some extent with fragments of the rocks forming the barrier beside us. To those who did not admit the probability of the boulders before seen being deposited by glacial action, the phenomena here presented offered strong confirmation. A glacier descending from a main valley necessarily flows down the slope towards the plain, and could not turn aside at right angles to its previous course, and to the line of maximum inclination, unless there had been a barrier of solid rock stopping the way, of which there was here not the slightest indication. Whether or not materials that are borne down a steep incline by sub-aërial denudation form a talus with a diminishing slope resting against the face of the escarpment, or form mounds at a greater or less distance from the base, is a question depending upon the momentum with which they descend; and this again depends on three elements—the weight of the blocks, the steepness, and the length of the slope. If the greater portion of the materials consist of large blocks launched down a steep and long incline, these will travel to a considerable distance from the base of the cliff, and gradually form a barrier that will stop the course of other similar masses, until these accumulate into considerable mounds, as may be seen in many instances of berg-falls in the Alps. Whatever be the origin of these accumulations in this part of the Great Atlas, it would appear that the conditions that gave rise to them have now ceased, as we saw no instance of any large block that appeared to have been recently borne to its present position.

As it was important to reach our night quarters by daylight, we collected few plants during the afternoon ride; a fine Asperula, with numerous flowers varying from white to pink, seemingly not different from the Spanish A. hirsuta, was a great ornament here, and in several other places on the skirts of the Atlas.

As we approached the opening of a considerable valley, it was apparent that the escarpment ridge here comes to an end, and is not again traceable as a distinct feature in the scenery on the west side of the Ourika river. The name Ourika, with which we now became familiar, appears to be that of a district, governed by a Kaïd under the orders of El Graoui, which includes a fruitful valley running deep into the heart of the Great Atlas. Having descended from the hummocky ground over which our course lay, we struck the valley just where the stream issues from between the hills below a village named Achliz. Nearly all the water was at this season diverted from its natural bed into irrigation channels that are carried through the plain of Marocco. We rode some way along one of these channels, bordered by tall reeds, and a grand Senecio, fully eight feet high, but not yet in flower, probably S. giganteus of Desfontaines. The wide bed of the stream, nearly quite dry, afforded the most convenient situation for our camp, which, by the mean of two observations, stood at 2,889 feet (880·6 m.) above the sea.

Though the more we afterwards knew of him the less we liked him, we observed, on this and some other occasions, that our disagreeable Marocco leader, Kaïd el Hasbi, shared in a quality that is common enough among uncivilised people, and especially noticeable among the Moors, of which due account should be taken by travellers. It is not the desire to please, still less real benevolence; but a certain impressionableness, an involuntary sympathy, that makes these people thoroughly uncomfortable when they see a stranger annoyed or disappointed. In common phrase, ‘they can’t bear to see you put out.’ An Englishman, a German, or a Swiss may travel with you the whole day, when you are suffering from annoyance, perhaps at something in his own behaviour, but will either not notice, or, if he do notice, will not heed, your humour. In this country a man who would see you killed or tortured with perfect composure, can be made more uneasy than you are by seeing you vexed or out of spirits. The disappointment we felt at our first failure to penetrate the inner recesses of the Atlas from Tasseremout, had been very perceptible during the afternoon; and though our Kaïd was quite resolved to let us go no farther than he could possibly help, he wished to do what he could to keep us in good humour. Accordingly, we were scarcely housed in our tents when El Hasbi appeared with a supply of fruit, oranges, dates, and walnuts, that he wished us to regard as a present from himself, but were doubtless part of the ample mona that was obtained from the village authorities. Later on, the Kaïd of the valley made his appearance, civil, but no way cordial, and the result of the interview was not very favourable to the prospect of penetrating to the head of the valley.

We were led at the time to suppose that the more or less overt resistance which we encountered here and elsewhere in South Marocco, was altogether due to a fanatical dislike to Christian strangers; but we afterwards doubted whether that feeling, undoubtedly prevalent among the Moors, is equally general among the Shelluh population; and as we came to know more of the practical results of our visits to these remote valleys, the less surprised we were to know that they were unwelcome to the inhabitants. The Sultan’s order, as we learned from El Graoui, had gone forth that we were not to be put to any expense for the living of ourselves and our attendants during our journey. So far as our personal consumption went that was but trifling, as we largely relied on the provisions we had carried with us. Our attendants no doubt consumed an ample share of food at the one serious meal of the day, usually after nightfall, and were ready to set to again in the middle of the night when a good opportunity was offered; but it was the rapacity of our soldier escort that made our visit a calamity in a poor district. Not satisfied with gorging themselves with meat, cakes, and fruit, they demanded luxuries such as green tea and white sugar, and in such quantities that, as we afterwards learned, Kaïd el Hasbi used to send from each valley in which we halted a mule laden with provisions to his family in Marocco. An altercation which we heard this night, and which was repeated more than once on subsequent nights, arose from our usually pacific Mogador Kaïd, who revolted at seeing the lion’s share of the spoil taken possession of by his colleague from Marocco. On this occasion the quarrel threatened to become serious, and the long guns were actually drawn out of the red cloth cases; but it seemed that on one or both sides discretion overcame valour, as peace was ultimately restored. Our interpreter, Abraham, as a prudent man, wished not to embroil himself in these disputes, and it was only gradually that we got to learn the real mischiefs and hardships of which we were the involuntary occasion.