FOOTNOTES:

[2]The reader who may desire a more detailed account of the city of Marocco than we can afford is referred to the Description and Plan of the City, by M. Paul Lambert, in the Bulletin of the French Geographical Society for 1868.

[4]As constantly happened, it was very difficult to fix the sound of this name. The accent sometimes fell on the last syllable, sometimes on the penultimate.

[5]See Mr. Maw’s paper on the ‘Geology of Marocco.’ Appendix F.


CHAPTER VIII.

Vegetation of Ourika valley — Destruction of the native trees — Our progress checked — Enforced return — Shelluh village — Ride from Ourika to Reraya — Trouble with our escort — A friendly Shelluh sheik — Native desire for medical advice — Characteristics of the Shelluhs — Zaouia of Moulaï Ibrahim — Camp in Aït Mesan valley — Excursion to the head of the valley — Reach the snow — Night travelling in the Atlas.

At sunrise, on April 10, the thermometer stood at 60°, and in this delightful climate we were in the best spirits for undertaking the work that seemed to be ready cut out for us, by exploring the fine valley that led directly from our station to the heart of the great mountain chain. Our expectations were, indeed, somewhat damped by the discussions that had already taken place with the Vice-Governor and with Kaïd el Hasbi. They did not deny that we might travel some way up the valley, but asserted that it would not be practicable for us to ‘reach the snow.’

It was impossible to leave the spot where we encamped without giving a little time for collecting some of the very interesting plants that grew close at hand. Foremost amongst these was a leguminous shrub that seems destined to become an ornament to the gardens of Europe. This—Adenocarpus anagyrifolius, of Cosson—was first found in 1867, by M. Balansa, and seems to be common, especially near the banks of streams, between 3,000 and 5,000 feet above the sea level throughout this part of the Great Atlas. The long racemes of bright yellow flowers were conspicuous from a distance, and we afterwards found the pods, densely covered with black glands, but nowhere containing ripe seed. Another new bush belonging to the same natural order was also seen for the first time—Hedysarum membranaceum, of Cosson. Unlike the other, this is rare, and seems to be limited to the lower zone at the foot of the mountains. We failed to find either flower or fruit, though M. Balansa gathered both, perhaps at a lower level, in May 1867. We also collected fine specimens of two new and very distinct species, first seen on the preceding day—Lotononis maroccana, Ball, and Lotus maroccanus, Ball.

Soon after 8 we got under way, and, after a short ride along the right bank, reached the stream above the part where the water is carried off for irrigation purposes. It was now seen to be a rapid torrent, from twenty to forty yards in width, and nearly two feet deep. For some distance the narrow floor of the valley was nearly flat, and the moist soil was covered with poplars and willows, and a dense undergrowth of grasses and herbaceous flowering plants. Among these were two large Ranunculi, and a gigantic orchid, growing four or five feet high, only a variety of our common Orchis latifolia.

The vegetation became still more interesting when we left the flat bottom of the valley, and began to ascend on drier ground, between tangled masses of bushes that formed a sort of thick hedge on either side of the track. For the first time in South Marocco, we saw two species of ClematisC. cirrhosa and C. Flammula,—along with several other Mediterranean species; but our minds were especially exercised by a little bush with slender twigs and pinnate leaves, which, in default of flower or fruit, we were at first unable to refer to its place in the natural system. It turned out to be a curious species of ash, first found in the plateau region of Southern Algeria, appropriately named by M. Cosson Fraxinus dimorpha. As long as it remains a bush, with numerous twiggy stems, the leaflets are blunt and rounded; but when it becomes a shrub, with a stout trunk, it throws out leaves that approach in form those of the flowering ash. We nowhere saw it in this condition in Marocco, and only by the help of Algerian specimens could we have suspected the identity of the two forms. Among many thorny bushes we saw here one, first gathered the day before, near Tasseremout, which Hooker at once pronounced to be a Celastrus. This was first found in the South of Spain, and described as C. europæus by M. Boissier, but is in truth one of the many forms of C. senegalensis, a widely-spread tropical species, that extends from India to the west coast of Africa.

Among other novelties, we here saw, for the first time, a little annual stonecrop (Sedum modestum, Ball), that nestles in hollow places under large stones, or about the roots of trees; but the most curious trophy of our day’s work was a miniature bramble, lying flat on earthy banks, with small, mostly undivided leaves, and very few minute prickles. It is possible that the imperfect fruits that we saw had been dried up by the sun; but it seems more likely that this belongs to the group of dry-fruited brambles—the genus Dalibarda of some botanists—hitherto known only in America and Eastern Asia.

We passed near to several villages; but, as a rule, the valley tracks in the Great Atlas are carried on one side, and do not approach near to the houses. The valley grew narrower as we advanced, and the moderately steep slopes on either hand were covered with small trees of Callitris, and Juniperus phœnicea, none of them more than about thirty feet in height. If this country were administered by people capable of taking thought of its future prosperity, the former tree might undoubtedly become an important source of wealth. The beauty of the wood, if it were only allowed to attain a sufficient size, would always secure a ready market, even though it never reached the extravagant price which, under the name of citrus wood, it obtained in the days of Imperial Rome. The only use which it serves in Marocco is the production of gum Sandrac, of which a small quantity is exported to Europe.

The destructive practice of setting fire to the brushwood is the sole cause that prevents the northern slopes of the Great Atlas from being clothed with valuable timber. The motive is not only the desire to obtain pasture for sheep and goats, but also to deprive an enemy of cover for ambush during the frequent skirmishes that occur between neighbouring tribes. The olive, carob, and walnut, which are planted in the main valleys, and produce annual crops, are carefully protected; but the notion of looking forward to future profit after an interval of thirty or forty years would be absolutely unintelligible to a native of this country. By a very rude process, the natives extract from the trunks and branches of Juniperus phœnicea a sort of tar which is said to be a useful application in wounds and sores of men and animals.

As we continued to advance, the valley narrowed almost to a defile, and the track, carried along rather steep slopes, became difficult for laden animals, though not worse than one commonly meets in high mountain countries, nor nearly so bad as some that we afterwards traversed in the Atlas. Presently, Abraham announced that Kaïd el Hasbi declared the track too bad for farther progress of the baggage mules. As it was apparent that the valley widened out a short way ahead, and that the mauvais pas would soon come to an end, we turned deaf ears to the remark, and rode doggedly on for a short distance farther, encouraged by the view in front, which disclosed a long reach of valley, running deep into the heart of the great chain. Shortly after, those who were in front became aware that a vehement discussion was going on at the centre of our scattered line. The energy of our interpreter was taxed to the utmost in striving to render the emphatic sentences that were exchanged between Hooker and Kaïd el Hasbi, supplemented by the pantomimic gestures of the latter.

The gist of the argument was to the effect that even if we did go some way farther, at the risk of our baggage animals rolling down into the torrent—one of them had already slipped, and had a narrow escape—our progress to the head of the valley was out of the question, as the people there were in full revolt, and would not recognise the authority of the Sultan. We were inclined at the moment, and afterwards, to believe that this was a lie trumped up for the occasion; but the story might possibly be true, and, whether it were so or not, it was clearly impossible for us to proceed against the positive and determined opposition of our escort. With feelings of bitter disappointment we dismounted, and ordered that the baggage should return to a village near which we had passed an hour before, while we climbed to the top of a projecting spur of the mountain, commanding a view of the upper valley. For the moment, our interest in the vegetation yielded to the attractions of the scenery, and our curiosity as to the nature of the great mountain chain that rose steeply before us, seamed with snow that nowhere formed wide fields of névé, but lay in hollows and ravines forming long vertical streaks throughout the upper zone of several thousand feet in height. About two miles ahead of us the valley forks, the main branch from SSE. receiving a tributary from the S. or SSW. On a lofty spur between the two streams stood a village, conspicuous from a distance.

To be turned back at the very moment when the main object of our journey lay before our eyes, and that on pretexts that we utterly disbelieved, was sufficiently aggravating; and it was not in the most cheerful humour that, about mid-day, we retraced our steps down the valley, and, yielding to the suggestions of our escort, halted at the olive grove beside the village which we had noticed during our ascent. This was the first Shelluh village that we had been able to inspect nearly, and it was of the same type which we afterwards found throughout the mountain region. Unlike the Arabs, the Berebers always use stone for building when it is available. The walls are thick and solid below, but rudely constructed, and the upper portions are sometimes put together with mud and small pieces of stone. There is usually an upper story extending over the whole or part of the ground floor, and the roofs are flat and made tolerably water-tight with mortar or cement. In structure and appearance they reminded Hooker of the village houses of the mountaineers of Bhotan.

We collected a good many specimens during the afternoon, but were able to add little to the list of species already noted in the valley. The most important business in hand was to bring to book our enemy Kaïd el Hasbi—for so we began to consider him—and ascertain clearly whether he did or did not mean to carry out the orders of the Sultan, and convey us to some point within reach of the upper regions of the mountains. When pressed on this point, he distinctly declared that from Reraya—the next adjoining district to the west—we should be able to ‘reach the snow;’ and with that assurance we had to satisfy ourselves, and give such orders that the next evening should find us in the desired district.

The name of the village was differently noted by the members of the party; Assghin, as it is entered in Hooker’s notes, by an observation taken this afternoon, with the thermometer in the shade at 72° Fahr., stands at 3,427 feet (1,044·4 m.) above the sea. Up to this our observations had been reduced on the assumption that the pressure at sea level was exactly 760 millimetres; but henceforward we had the advantage of direct comparison with observations recorded twice a day at Mogador.

The evening was fine, but flashes of lightning were seen to the SE. after dark, and during the night fresh snow fell on the higher ridges, which looked brilliant on the early morning of April 11, but rapidly melted under the mid-day sun. We started rather late, about 8 A.M., and by 10.30 had returned to the site of our former camp in the broad bed of the stream below Achliz. Here our ill-humour was increased by a long and quite unnecessary delay. As a rule, a light luncheon was all that was consumed at our mid-day halt, the men being content with some fragments of the mona of the previous night. But our greedy soldiers had requisitioned a further mona, nominally on our behalf, from the adjoining village, and were determined not to move forward until it was supplied. When Hooker happened to surprise our Mogador Kaïd in the act of secreting a quantity of tea and sugar, the old fellow in self-defence began to narrate the misdeeds of his colleague, and so gave us a clearer notion than we before had of the sort of abuses that pervade the whole fabric of Moorish administration. It is true that one is told that the value of goods requisitioned in this way by Government officers is allowed to the villages as payment on account of taxes; but the poor country people tell a different tale, and it is probable that any allowance made on this head is quite inadequate.

It was 2.30 P.M. when we were at last able to start, and, as we knew that there was still some distance to travel, we had but very little time for botanising during the afternoon ride. Our way lay for more than two hours along the base of the hills, whose forms were much of the pattern usually seen where a high mountain rises from a plain country. The ridges dividing the main valleys gradually diminish in height as they recede from the axis, and ultimately are weather-worn into eminences of a more or less conical form, which project to an unequal distance towards the plain.

Towards five o’clock we began to ascend to a low pass connecting a long projecting spur to the right with the main mass of the hills on our left. Up to this we had seen a good many scattered blocks of sandstone, but nowhere forming mounds. We now came on limestone— showing traces of fossils. The hills hereabouts were bare of trees, with a thick growth of palmetto, bushy Labiatæ, Helianthemum, and perennial grasses, except where, under tillage, they produce good crops of red-bearded wheat. From the first pass we descended rather steeply to cross a narrow torrent bed, and reascend to a second somewhat higher pass, reached at 6 P.M., which we found to be 3,590 feet (1,094·3 m.) above the sea, or just 700 feet above the river at the mouth of the Ourika valley. The country here appears to be fully peopled. We saw several villages, and one or two quadrangular buildings of larger size, probably the dwellings of local sheiks. We had during most of the way wide views over the plain of Marocco, and were able to distinguish the city itself, with the great tower of the Koutoubia and the extensive palm groves on its western side. Slight undulations of the ground are not perceptible when seen from above; but it was quite clear to us that nothing deserving to be called a hill breaks the uniformity of the gentle slope with which the plain subsides from the base of the Atlas to the region traversed by us on our road from Mogador.

The monotony of the march was diversified by another furious quarrel between the officers of our escort. Whatever may have been the pretext, the cause was doubtless the mutual ill blood arising from the disputes over their respective shares of the spoil obtained from the villagers. Not content with volleys of guttural abuse, and seemingly ferocious threats, they appeared intent on serious mischief, and proceeded to unpack their long guns. Luckily these were securely wrapped up in complicated covers of red cloth, and, before the combatants were ready for action, prudence once more restrained valour, and the storm passed away in sullen growlings and mutterings of future vengeance. It sometimes struck us that if there were such things as professional brigands in Marocco, we might have been robbed or murdered with perfect safety before one of the guns of our escort had been extracted from its case, and made ready for use.

Indignant, as we were, at the rapacity of our escort, we assured ourselves, when we came to know more of the country, that there is a great deal of human nature among the Moors, as there is amongst most of the people that travellers make acquaintance with, and that the conduct of the soldiers and their officers was pretty much what might be expected from any other men put in the same position. The pay of a captain in the regular army is equivalent to 4s. 2d. per month, and that of the men not nearly enough to support life, even allowing for the frugal habits of the people. It is only natural that when the opportunity is offered, along with the certainty of impunity, they should make the most of it, as they certainly do. In some places, as we afterwards learned, they were not satisfied with the large supplies that they requisitioned, but demanded and obtained money from the village authorities.

From the summit of the second pass, the track descends about 400 feet into a broad valley, well wooded with olive, carob, and other cultivated trees.

Soon after seven o’clock we reached a convenient spot on flat ground, beside a rapid stream, near a village called Tassilunt. The scenery here was very picturesque, although we had no view of the higher part of the chain. The nearer mountains were of a deep red colour—probably sandstone—contrasting finely with the rich green of trees and shrubs that covered most of the slopes. The floor of the valley here, as in most parts of the range that we visited, is chiefly devoted to olive cultivation, poor crops of grain being raised beneath the trees.

The sheik of the village soon presented himself, and before long an abundant mona was brought to the tent door, and laid, according to custom, at Hooker’s feet. Five large dishes of cooked meat and keskossou, and piles of wheaten cakes, were designed to stay or to whet the appetites of the party; while a sheep, twelve fowls, fifty eggs, and five pounds of butter formed a provision for their future wants. When it is remembered that nearly as much more cooked food was supplied in the morning, it may be imagined that the tax on the resources of a poor mountain village was not trifling.

We had now entered the district of Reraya, which is under the rule of El Graoui, represented by one or more deputies. The whole population, excepting some miserable-looking Jews, is Shelluh; but here, as everywhere among the Berebers, these are divided into tribes or clans, who are often at feud, and always jealous and suspicious of each other. There is generally a superior chief or sheik, having a wide, but ill-defined authority over the whole clan; but among those that recognise the Sultan’s paramount temporal as well as spiritual supremacy, this is subordinate to that of the Governor. In this part of the Great Atlas, the clans, as well as the districts named after them, preserve the Shelluh patronymic of Aït; but the Bereber tribes of the high ranges E. and SE. of Fez have generally adopted the Arabic Beni, as with the powerful tribes, Beni Mtir and Mghill. One of the many difficulties of the geographer in this country arises from the practice of naming each district from the tribe that inhabits it, and the fact that, either from compulsion, or a taste for migration, it is not uncommon for a tribe to remove from one valley to another. The next valley to that where we now were was called at this time Aït Mesan; but if the Aït Mesan should take possession of some neighbouring valley, or be driven out by a stronger tribe, the traveller who visits the country some years hence may find the Aït Mesan valley in quite another place from that which we have described.

Our chief anxiety now, was to ascertain that the promise held out, of penetrating to the inner recesses of the Great Atlas in the district of Reraya, was to be realised. We were told that in the next adjoining valley we should reach a place only two hours’ journey from the snow, and that the sheik of that valley had been summoned, and would arrive on the next morning. At the same time, whether from ignorance or a design to mislead us, El Hasbi’s language was decidedly vague and confused, and, after the experience of the last few days, there was no reason to feel the slightest confidence in his assurances. Hooker therefore decided on bringing matters to a point by informing El Hasbi that if any further difficulty was made, he should despatch a courier with letters for El Graoui and the Viceroy at Marocco, saying that the commander of our escort has failed to carry out the Sultan’s orders, and requesting that another should be sent in his place. As this was the last thing to suit El Hasbi’s book, he became profuse in assurances of devotion to our wishes, and for some days, at least, we had no reason to suspect him of further machinations to defeat our plans.

In point of fact, a courier was sent on the following day with a letter for El Graoui. It was desirable to obtain the direct sanction of the authorities for our intention to remain several days in the district we had now reached, and to make it understood that this would be essential for the object of our journey.

A further topic requiring some previous arrangement arose from Maw’s desire to return to England as soon as possible, after effecting the desired ascent to the higher region.

Our camp, which stood at 3,160 feet (963·1 m.) above the sea, was in a pleasant and sheltered position, and the temperature was thoroughly enjoyable. The relative coolness of the nights was not, indeed, so remarkable here as in the plain, for the actual temperature was pretty much the same, while that of the shade of day, which at this season, there usually rises somewhat over 80° Fahr., rarely exceeded 70° in the lower zone of the Great Atlas, however powerful might be the direct rays of the sun for several hours in each day. Towards dawn the air was usually keen, often almost cold; and at the hour which, when possible, was selected for observation—about one hour after sunrise—Fahrenheit’s thermometer, as well in the plain as in the main valleys of the Atlas, usually ranged from 56° to 60°. It will be seen that this country, when made accessible to civilised Europe, will supply the nearest approach yet discovered to the perfection of climate, whether for health or enjoyment.

The morning of May 12 was in every sense a busy one. During our afternoon ride of the day before, one of the baggage mules, while following a narrow track along the bank of a watercourse, had slipped into the stream, and a large parcel of Hooker’s plants had been thoroughly soaked. Several hours of the night, and the early morning, were consumed in repairing the damage, by laying the plants in dry paper, and drying in the sun that which was wet. Then came the important affair on which our hearts were mainly set. The sheik of the Aït Mesan valley had arrived, and it was necessary by a judicious combination of compulsion and conciliation to secure his co-operation in our undertaking. It was true that the orders of his superior, El Graoui, if duly conveyed by our escort, should alone have sufficed for our purpose; but we had already learned that, by a mutual understanding between the treacherous El Hasbi and the local authorities, our progress could at any moment be effectually barred. How were we to detect and expose the falsehood of the stories that were daily trumped up, and were seemingly accepted for truth by our own attendants?

The sheik appeared sufficiently cordial, especially when he was made to understand that, in case we were satisfied, he should receive a handsome present; and it was arranged that our next camp should be fixed at a spot within reach of the snow.

When the time for our departure drew near, a fresh, but not quite unforeseen, cause for delay presented itself, by the appearance in our camp of a crowd of native applicants for medical advice. Before leaving England we had been advised not to neglect the surest means for conciliating the good will of an African population, and had fortunately provided ourselves with a sufficient stock of common medicines. Even an ordinary traveller, with no more knowledge of medicine than the elementary notions possessed by most educated persons, may safely apply simple remedies in many of the cases of sickness that commonly occur among uncivilised people; but in our case there was no occasion for rash experiments, as Hooker’s medical knowledge and skill were more than sufficient for the needs of the patients who flocked in considerable numbers to ask for advice. From this time forward, except in one or two places where the people were withheld by the bigotry of the authorities, this became one of the daily demands upon his time and patience.

To judge from our own observation of the Shelluh people, and the experience of French travellers among the Kabyles, it seems probable that a traveller having some knowledge of the Bereber language, and a little medical skill, who could once make his way among the independent tribes of East Marocco, might safely explore the unknown portions of the Great Atlas. The first condition would be, that he should be able to overcome or evade the obstacles that would be put in his way by the Moorish authorities; and the second, that he should avoid treating any case that was likely to have a fatal termination. The position of an infidel stranger who might be supposed to be accessory to the death of a native of one of these wild tribes would doubtless be very perilous. The only branch of natural history that could be followed by a traveller under such conditions would be botany. In collecting plants he would be supposed to be following his proper avocation; whereas the slightest attention given to stones or minerals would be set down to a search for treasure.

The Shelluh population of the Great Atlas is strikingly different from the Arab stock, but scarcely to be distinguished in appearance from the cognate Bereber races, the Riff mountaineers of North Marocco, and the Kabyles of Algeria. Long faces, of a deep sallow complexion, high cheek-bones, eyes closely set and not so dark as those of the Moors and Arabs, are the prevailing types. The hair is cut short, and the use of the turban seems to be confined to the women. The men, when they use an upper garment, wear a black cloak or large cape of goat’s hair or camel’s hair, into which is inserted on the back an angular patch of red woollen stuff. Their character seems even more different from the Arab type than their aspect. The Arab hates work, takes to it occasionally from necessity, but passes his time so far as he can between talk, story-telling, and song, and dreamy contemplation, in which he is helped by the habitual use of kief, prepared from Indian hemp, the local substitute for tobacco. The Shelluh, on the contrary, is active and hardworking. He has some natural fitness and acquired skill in agriculture. His intelligence is readier for all practical purposes; and, in spite of difficulties of language, which generally involved a double process of interpreting between us and the natives, we found it much easier to obtain information on any matter of interest than from the Arabs. Intense curiosity was always shown by them in our proceedings, and a circle of people from the nearest village, standing hand-in-hand, generally encompassed our camp.

During the morning Maw amused and interested the people by showing a little practice with a small English rifle. The long flint-lock guns and bad gunpowder used in this country form such ineffective weapons that the people cannot conceive the possibility of every shot telling. This accounts for the fact that in the frequent skirmishes that arise between neighbouring tribes so little damage is usually done. Several hundred men may spend the day in firing at each other; a vast quantity of ammunition may be consumed; but the list of casualties on both sides seldom exceeds half a dozen killed and wounded.

At 11 A.M. we left our camping ground, and began to ascend the valley, soon approaching the banks of the stream, which was everywhere easily fordable. In places where it has cut a channel through sandstone rock there was space to ride along the bed, and we here found several rock-plants of some interest. The most conspicuous was the European Catananche cærulea, not before seen by us, but extremely common in the interior valleys of the Great Atlas, growing two or three feet high in the warm zone, and dwindling to a few inches in colder and exposed stations. Of greater interest was Selaginella rupestris, a species of club-moss that makes the round of the world in the tropics, but is very rare outside those limits.

Before long we began to ascend the slopes on the western side of the valley. The hill was covered with a dense growth of shrubs and low bushes, in great part evergreen, and had more the characteristic aspect of the region surrounding the shores of the Mediterranean than anything we had seen since leaving Tangier. But, although there were several identical species, the differences were very marked, and a single glance sufficed to show that we were far removed from the flora of North Marocco. The arbutus was the sole representative of its natural order, and no heath extends to the Great Atlas. The oak-scrub, in this and the neighbouring valleys, is all formed of some form of the evergreen oak, Quercus lusitanica, Q. coccifera, and the allied forms being all absent. The Alaternus is common to both regions, but a narrow-leaved form of Rhamnus oleoides is here more common. Seven species of Cistus that adorn the hills in North Marocco are on the slopes of the Great Atlas reduced to two, and those the least conspicuous. On the other hand, the number of bushy Labiatæ was here largely increased, and included many peculiar species not known to grow elsewhere; and there were many Umbelliferæ, of which several were not yet sufficiently advanced for recognition. Of Leguminosæ, which everywhere play a conspicuous part in the flora of this region, the most striking novelty was a new Coronilla (C. ramosissima, Ball), that forms a low bush, with very numerous slender intricate branches, covered at this season with rather small yellow flowers. In the midst of so much that was strange to the eye, it was pleasant to see two familiar European orchids, Orchis pyramidalis and Ophrys apifera.

There was something comical in the effect of our long cortège, with the escort swollen to-day by the addition of three sheiks of the valley, winding solemnly up the slope of the mountain, but thrown every now and then into general excitement by the appearance of some unpretending plant. The order ‘catch him flower’ would then issue to the native attendants, or one or other of the travellers would set foot to ground the better to inspect it. But any sense of incongruity between the pomp and circumstance of our mode of travelling and the simple nature of our favourite occupation was lost on the natives. To them one pursuit of civilised man is as unintelligible as another, and they can conceive no other serious occupation for men not forced to labour than war or hunting. It is a curious instance of the survival of barbarous instincts, that a good many people in our own islands, who imagine themselves to belong to the upper classes of society, have scarcely advanced a step beyond the mental condition of the Shelluh mountaineer.

We passed a village where we noticed some rude oil mills; and, after an ascent of about a thousand feet, reached the summit of the ridge dividing the valley we had left from the long and important one, the upper part of which is known, from the tribe that inhabits it, as Aït Mesan. It is very difficult to trace the course of the streams that flow northward from this part of the Great Atlas, because they are so extensively diverted into irrigation channels that the natural bed is often dry, except after heavy rain. According to Beaudouin’s map the streams from this and several adjoining valleys all flow to the Oued Tensift by the east side of the city of Marocco. This we were led to believe an error in that map. It is probably true of the Ourika river and its affluents; but our own observation, confirmed by the statements of the natives, led us to think that all the streams from the Reraya district flow north-westward after entering the plain, and unite with those from the districts of Gurgouri and Amsmiz to form the river Oued Nyfs, which we had passed at Misra ben Kara; the same name, variously pronounced Oued Enfist or Oued Enfisk, being applied to several of the separate torrents above referred to. It will be remarked that the name Oued Enfist is merely an anagrammatic form of Oued Tensift, the main river that drains all this portion of the Great Atlas; and it is a question whether the natives do not apply the same name, with the usual laxity as to the order of the consonants, to all the affluents of the principal stream.

After descending some way on the western side of the ridge, we came in sight of a large village perched on the summit of a hill, on the opposite side of the stream that ran at a great depth below us. This we soon learned to be Moulaï Ibrahim, a zaouia, or sanctuary, much venerated in all this part of Marocco, governed by a sherreef, belonging to the family of the saint whose tomb is the chief building of the village. This semi-independent sherreef gave permission to M. Balansa to remain in the village for some days in 1867; but just as that active traveller was prepared to attempt to penetrate into the interior of the chain, an order from El Graoui made it necessary for him to depart, and follow the direct way to Marocco. As we came in sight of the zaouia, each of our troop, Shelluh as well as Moor, commenced to recite prayers, and then, after prostrating himself on the ground, with his face towards the sanctuary, proceeded to add a stone to certain heaps that stood beside the track. The Berebers, in general, are said to be very lax in conforming to the precepts of the Koran, but they are as assiduous in their show of reverence for saints and sanctuaries as the Moors themselves, and it would appear that this is the only practical form in which their religion exhibits itself.

On the summit of the ridge, which may be about 4,500 feet above the sea, the rock is a grey schist, often shaly in texture, with the strike about east and west, and clipping at a high angle approaching the vertical. These beds may perhaps be identical with the schists, sometimes containing mica, and sometimes more calcareous in composition, which we afterwards found at the head of the Amsmiz valley, and with the rock, described as micaceous schist, seen by Washington in his ascent from Tasseremout. Our course now lay about due south, parallel to that of the torrent which ran at a considerable depth below us. At Moulaï Ibrahim this, according to M. Balansa, is called Oued Ghaghaia, but we never heard any similar designation for it. The difficulty of seizing the shades of more or less guttural sounds from the mouths of the natives makes it not improbable that the word Ghaghaia of M. Balansa is the same that we agreed in writing Reraya, and that the name may mean that this is the stream draining the district of Reraya.

On this ridge we found that curious grass, Lygeum Spartum, characteristic of Sicily and Southern Spain, where it is much used for making fine basket-work, but not seen elsewhere in Marocco. Soon after we lit upon a single specimen of a very fine plant of the artichoke family, evidently distinct from all those described, but unfortunately not yet in flower. It has been provisionally named Cynara Hystryx (Ball). The next find was not less interesting—an Oriental Echinospermum (E. barbatum of Lehmann) that extends from the Punjab to Asia Minor and the Caucasus, but had not before been seen in Africa.

About two o’clock we left behind us the rough irregular ground over which we had been riding, and found ourselves in a broad open valley, with a level floor, half a mile or more in width, at the head of which rose some fine snow-seamed peaks. As we advanced towards the main chain, our suspicion that the dividing ridge and the higher peaks were at once more distant and more lofty than had hitherto been supposed, was more and more confirmed; and we were soon able to certify that M. Balansa’s expectation that any of the higher points might be reached in a single day from Moulaï Ibrahim was based on miscalculation of the scale of these mountains.

Our short mid-day halt was in a pleasant spot, under the shade of some very fine carob and olive trees, in view of a village with large quadrangular windowless buildings, that seemed to show that the mountaineers here are far better lodged than the people of the plain. The nearer hills, and one of the higher but nearer peaks, displayed long unbroken lines of escarpment, formed by the exposed edges of thick beds of rock (doubtless sandstone), of a deep red colour, indicated in the annexed plate. We here noticed the first indication of one prominent characteristic of the Great Atlas flora—the reappearance of many of the common field plants of Europe, which are not seen in the lower region. Among others, we gathered three species of Ranunculus (R. arvensis, R. parviflorus, and R. muricatus) beside our halting place.

We were soon again in the saddle, and every step as we advanced disclosed some new object of interest, either in the scenery that gradually opened before us, or in the vegetation close at hand. We passed close to a village where the demeanour of the people was more distinctly friendly than we had yet experienced since we landed at Tangier. The whole population—men, women unveiled, and children—turned out to see the cavalcade pass, and something approaching to a smile was seen on many a countenance. It appeared that the fame of Hooker’s skill as a hakim had travelled before us, and during the following days his patience was often tried by the numbers who flocked to consult him. In this and the other neighbouring valleys there are a good many Jews, who appear to find life among the Shelluhs less hard than among the Arabs of the plain. True to the instinct of race, they contrive to make a living as brokers, by conducting the sale of the surplus produce of the mountain country to Moorish traders, and the purchase of the grain, which must be brought from the low country for the subsistence of the people.

Some more fine plants were collected by the way. Among these were three species of Astragalus, one of them new, but nearly allied to A. narbonensis; and Atractylis macrophylla, of Desfontaines, a noble plant of the thistle tribe, much the most ornamental of the genus, reaching a height of three feet; but, as it flowers late, we saw only the withered heads of the previous year.

About 6 P.M. we reached the spot which was destined to be our head-quarters for several days. The site chosen was an olive grove, on a shelf of level ground about one hundred feet above the stream. The soil in the openings between the trees must have been lying fallow for some time, and was not so uncomfortably rough as the ploughed land on which we often had to pitch our tents. The two nearest villages are named Hasni and Tassghirt; but the former was taken by us as the name of the place that became to us a sort of temporary home. By the mean of four nearly concordant observations, compared with those at Mogador, the height of our camp was 4,205 feet (1,281·8 m.) above the sea.

By the time we were installed in our tents it was nearly dark, but a much longer delay occurred before the mona arrived from the neighbouring village. The interval was well employed in a negotiation with Si Hassan, the sheik of the valley, ending by an engagement on his part to conduct us on the following day ‘to the snow.’

With eager anticipation, we rose early on the morning of May 13, and soon made our arrangements for the day’s excursion. Abraham, with most of the escort, remained in charge of the camp, while three or four of the soldiers went with us, and Si Hassan with two or three wild-looking followers took charge of the expedition. During the past fortnight, our Mogador attendants, and especially Ambak, whose superior intelligence was conspicuous, had picked up enough of English to make the constant presence of a regular interpreter less necessary than it had been at first, though occasions were pretty frequent when the attempts at mutual understanding between us and the Shelluhs were evidently unsuccessful.

Immediately above our camp the valley narrows rapidly, and for some miles the torrent flows through a mere cleft with steeply sloping precipitous sides. To avoid this, the upward track ascends steeply for several hundred feet, and is then carried along the slope at a considerable height above the torrent. After suffering from the usual delays, we commenced the ascent about eight o’clock. The morning was bright, and the temperature delightful. The thermometer had fallen to 50° about sunrise, but during the day it stood some ten degrees higher in the shade in the middle part of the valley. To a party of naturalists it was tantalising work to ride along the rocky track, passing at every step objects of the greatest interest, yet unable to do more than snatch a fragment, or hastily drag up an imperfect specimen. The pace over the broken ground was necessarily slow, and it was easy for a man on foot to keep up with the horses; but then the temptation to linger by the way became irresistible. What botanist could be expected to pass by new and hitherto unseen forms of vegetable life without at least securing two or three specimens? As one or other of us yielded to the impulse, he was called to order by the cry of his companions, ‘We must lose no time—we must keep together’—and so reluctantly remounting, he was forced to keep time with our sheik guide, who led the way. At a point about four miles above our camp the valley opened a little, and near a village (Ouanzerout?) our track lay through a grove of large olive trees and then descended a little to cross the stream. We now found this an impetuous torrent, with a much greater body of water than it had showed where we crossed it the day before many miles lower down, and a rocky bed full of deep holes through which it was not quite easy to take our horses and mules.

Throughout the valley we were struck by the proofs of native industry and skill given by the numerous irrigation channels, such as one sees in Piedmont, and in the tributaries of the Rhone valley in Switzerland, sometimes cut along steep faces of rock, sometimes maintained by high terraced banks. Where the ground is favourable, walnut trees are often planted along these watercourses, and must largely contribute to the dietary of the inhabitants. It thus appears that the drainage of the Great Atlas is, in great part, absorbed by irrigation, even before the streams enter the low country, while a further portion is there taken up for the same purpose, and but a small percentage reaches the sea in ordinary weather. This helps to account for much that at first sight appears so strange in the hydrography of Marocco. A vast mountain region, fully exposed to the currents of saturated warm air from the Atlantic, sends but four rivers to the ocean from its northern and western flanks, in a coast line of over 400 miles from El Araisch to Cape Guer; and these, at ordinary times, are all easily fordable. But when rain falls on the mountains, the irrigation channels are speedily filled to the brim, and the entire surplus reaches the rivers, which are then said to rise ten or twelve feet in the course of as many hours. As bridges are unknown, the Moors speak of travellers being detained for many days before a flooded river channel, as a common occurrence.

Above the ford, the valley was again contracted to a mere gorge, and the narrow path mounts on its eastern flank, and winds along the extremely steep rugged slopes much after the fashion of some unfrequented valley of the Southern Alps. Although the sun was already high, the mountain rose so sheer upon our left that the shadow often gave welcome protection; and the track was so narrow in places that we were not free from anxiety for the baggage animals.

The rock was now porphyry of a prevailing red colour, which, with occasional intrusive masses of diorite and dark green basalt, makes up the whole mass of the central ridge of the Great Atlas in this part of the chain. As compared with the rich and varied flora, insect life appeared, at least at this season, to be remarkably scarce, and the only butterfly noted was Papilio podalyrius.

The porphyry rocks appeared to be very hard, and far less yielding to erosion than those of somewhat similar character in South Tyrol. Hence the gullies and ravines cut by the water channels, round which the track wound, were not nearly so deep as those that add so much to the picturesqueness of the scenery, and at the same time to the length of the way for a traveller traversing the valleys near Botzen. After winding along the slopes for several miles, our track descended a little to approach once more the channel of the torrent. The valley was still narrow; but the inclination of its bed was much less, and the ground on either bank left space for a track, and in places even for a strip of cultivation. The natives seem to be quick at availing themselves of every spot possible for agriculture. Rye and barley were here seen in ear, and the olive extends very nearly to 5,000 feet above the sea, or considerably higher than it does on the flanks of the Lebanon.

As our track ran along the bank of a slender watercourse, it was completely overarched by a row of elder trees in full flower, that forced us to lay our heads upon our horses’ necks, one of many instances of the meeting of the common plants of Northern Europe with very different endemic forms that characterise the upper region of the Great Atlas. Some conspicuous plants of the lower country, and notably Adenocarpus anagyrifolius and Linaria ventricosa, extended thus far up the valley; and these, together with a wild Isatis, scarcely different from the dyer’s woad, gave a prevailing golden hue to the neighbouring slopes. A reach of the valley now opened before us, backed by a stern range of dark red bare rocky peaks. On our own (the eastern) flank, the enclosing wall receded somewhat, and above a high and rather steep convex acclivity stood a village whose people had brought the whole slope into cultivation. The torrent ran through a cleft on the right of this knoll, and our course lay directly up it, amidst fields and meadows, gay with spring flowers, all enclosed within stiff hedges of thorny bushes, among which our common gooseberry was abundant. As if because the natives would spare no space that could be turned to profit, we soon found that on the steeper portion of the ascent the only way was up the bed of a brawling stream that had for irrigation’s sake been diverted from the upper course of the torrent. The track lay over big blocks of porphyry, with deep holes between, over which the water leaped and tumbled, between straggling branches of spiny bushes, that left many a mark on the faces and clothing of the passing horsemen. Up to this we had little experience of what the horses and mules of Marocco can do in the way of getting over rough ground, and it was not without surprise that we saw how successfully they managed to scramble up the slippery channel over blocks worn smooth by the constant passage of men and animals. In the midst of the scramble we all dismounted, for we here saw for the first time the blue daisy of the Atlas, growing in the shade under the bushes, or nestling in the hollows between the rocks.

Having reached the top of the knoll at about noon, we found a sort of shelf of nearly level ground, covered in great part by a large village of rude but solid stone houses. Here a halt was called, and we were informed that a mona was provided to supply the mid-day meal for the party. Burning with impatience, as we were, this was anything but a welcome announcement. The dark ridges rising thousands of feet above the head of the valley were still distant, and no snow was to be seen, save in rifts and hollows of the rocks, high up and difficult of access; but to refuse the proffered hospitality of the mountain chieftain would have been deemed an affront; and to insist on taking our escort on without food would have caused discontent, if not mutiny. We made a virtue of necessity, and, while awaiting the repast, carried on a semblance of broken conversation, in which the ready wit of Ambak, our ever active attendant, supplied, it is likely, the chief materials. The name of the village, even more difficult to seize than usual, was noted by Hooker as Adjersiman. It stands, by our observations, at 5,535 feet (1,687 m.) above the sea level.

An hour—a whole precious hour—was consumed before the meal was over, and we were again on our way. Above the village the bed of the valley rises very steeply, the central part being filled with a vast mound of huge boulders, which on further examination proved to be the undoubted remains of the terminal moraine of the glacier which once filled the head of the valley. The principal mass of course marked the limit of the glacier during a prolonged period; but there were traces of two parallel moraines of smaller size, of which the outer marked the limit of its maximum extension. The blocks of porphyry and other metamorphic rocks were mostly of great dimensions.

The track was carried in zigzags up the face of the rocky slope, keeping towards the top close to the edge of the moraine; and on reaching the summit of the barrier disclosed to us for the first time a full view of the head of our valley. A few yards below us was a small miserable-looking village called Arround, the highest in this district. This stands at the meeting of two short and rather broad glens, each enclosed by the rugged masses of the central range of the Great Atlas. The shorter of the two, which opened on our left in a SE. or ESE. direction, does not apparently reach the main watershed, and a pass from its head would in all probability lead to one of the tributary branches of the Ourika valley. The other glen that opened right in front of us, somewhat W. of due S., was enclosed by a still loftier and more stern barrier, the rocks, since the sky had become overclouded, having passed from a dull red to a dark brown complexion. The ground for some distance behind the village was flat and swampy, showing that a small moraine lake had been filled up with gravel and silt. On the level space most of the soil was under tillage, and wheat as well as rye and barley are grown, and even maize, as we learned, is raised in this inclement position. On the low dykes that enclose the little fields we noticed Iris germanica, evidently planted, but whether for the production of orris-root, or for the sake of ornament, we failed to ascertain. The only large tree was the walnut, which had been planted along the skirts of the cultivated ground.

Now that we were able to pry into the inner recesses of the chain, we perceived that snow lay in abundance at a much lower level than we had hitherto supposed, but nowhere in masses of any great extent. All the higher ridges around us were extremely steep, though not cut into actual precipices; but on these snow could nowhere accumulate, save in clefts. Towards their base, however, at the foot of each narrow ravine that furrowed their faces, at many spots not much more than a thousand feet above our level, were large patches that seemed likely to maintain their position for some time. Though not without experience of mountain lands, we could none of us call to mind any spot much resembling the scene before us. Nowhere in the Alps is there anything of at all a similar character. Excluding the village, and the small fields, and the walnut trees, which, after all, filled but a small space in the view, there was something to remind one of the wilder valleys of the Northern Carpathians, but on a much greater scale. In the Tatra, as here, the rocks rise in broken masses, very steep but not quite precipitous, and the snow is seen only in clefts of the higher ridges, not because the climate forbids it to accumulate, but because the surface affords so few spots on which it can rest. But the rocky masses of the Tatra tend to form isolated peaks, usually of rugged and very steep conical shape; while in this part of the Great Atlas the depressions that separate the summits are of little depth as compared to the great height of the range. Seen from below, as from the spot where we now stood, many points assume the aspect of sharp peaks; but it is easy to ascertain, by varying the point of view, that these are mere projecting bastions from the wall of the main chain, rising little, or not at all, above the level of the adjoining ridges.

The day was already far gone—nearly two o’clock in the afternoon—when, leaving our horses at the village, we started on foot, with our sheik as guide, descending slightly to the level of the stream, here easily crossed, and then mounting the slope on the west side of the main branch of the valley in the direction of one of the nearest of the patches of snow already seen by us. No guide was needed, for the lower slopes on either side were easily accessible in all directions; but the sheik evidently wished to fulfil in person the promise of ‘leading us to the snow.’ Difficulty there was none, except that of moving onward over ground where every step brought to view some fresh object of interest. It was clear that we had at last reached the threshold of the terra incognita that we had so long dreamed of—the subalpine region of the Great Atlas. There could be no doubt that in the short space between the lower village and Arround—that is, between the lower end of the ancient moraine and the ground formerly covered by glacier—the flora had undergone a complete change. Nearly all the peculiar species which we had hitherto looked on as characteristic of the Great Atlas had disappeared, and their place was occupied in part by others peculiar to this region, and not known elsewhere; but more largely by species either identical or nearly allied to well-known mountain plants of the Mediterranean region, along with some of the common plants of middle Europe, including several familiar British field plants.

It will be more convenient to reserve details for the remarks on the vegetation of this and the Amsmiz valley, which will be found in the Appendix; but it must be owned that the general impression now made, and increased on further acquaintance, was not free from disappointment. As compared with any of the higher mountain masses surrounding the Mediterranean, already known to us, this is singularly unproductive of ornamental species attractive to the eye. The Sierra Nevada of Granada, the Lebanon chain, and the mountain ranges of Asia Minor, all exhibit at this season a multitude of bright-hued plants to delight the traveller, even though they may not rival the splendour of the higher zone of the Alps and Pyrenees to one who sees this a month or two later. Another remarkable feature was the absence of trees, and especially of true conifers. The dwarf evergreen oak that clothes the middle zone of the Atlas was no longer seen, and there was no pine, or spruce, or cedar to take its place. The solitary juniper that we afterwards saw was scarcely noticed at this, our first, visit. It is sometimes said that naturalists take no delight in the beauty of the objects of their study; but this is surely untrue of the great majority. Probably the notion has arisen from the fact that, in addition to the sources of pleasure which he shares with the rest of the world, the naturalist finds food for the sense of beauty as well as scientific interest, unsuspected by his critics, in exploring the internal structure of organised beings. Be this as it may, it is certain that the generally sombre aspect of the vegetation, harmonising as it did with that of the scenery, had a somewhat depressing effect on all the members of our party, while at the same time it only increased our desire to reach the upper part of the rugged barrier of rock that rose some 5,000 feet around the head of the valley where we stood.

Meanwhile, the afternoon was wearing away; we did not clearly know how we were to return to our camp after dark, but remembered distinctly one awkward place—the fording of the torrent—where some daylight seemed indispensable. We hurried back, our portfolios and tin boxes fully charged with spoil, and found the horses and mules awaiting us on the flat ground below Arround. A man can usually travel over rough mountain tracks as fast as a mule; but if the man be a botanist, and the track lies among new and rare plants, it is quite certain that he will not do so; and when haste is a matter of real importance, it is necessary to submit to the restraint of riding. Hurried as we were, it was necessary to dismount and make a short halt on our return to Arround. The laws of Bereber hospitality required that the villagers should present a mona, and that we should at least make a show of partaking of it. There was a large dish of barley porridge, with a lake of oil in a crater-like hollow in the centre, and another of buttermilk, in which were some of last year’s walnuts, as well as other unexpected delicacies. This entertainment was briefly despatched by our followers, and we proceeded down the steep track beside the moraine, and again reached Adjersiman. Here, to our vexation, another halt was called, and another slight refection was presented. Our impatience was so far successful, that the delay was limited to a very few minutes. We should, perhaps, have displayed more interest in these specimens of native cookery, if we had been acquainted with the curious passages in which Leo Africanus[1] minutely describes the dietary of the Atlas mountaineers, and the mode of preparing the identical dishes that were here presented to us.

Once more we were in the saddle, and the whole party felt that no more delay was permitted. To ride down the steep, slippery bed of the watercourse below the village seemed even a more trying affair than the ascent; but our companions seemed to take it as a matter of course, and our sturdy beasts accomplished the task bravely, though not without hard struggling, that would have strained the muscles of animals less strong and hardy. As always happens when the ground is looked at in the reverse direction, we espied, on retracing our track, several plants not before noticed, one or two of them certainly new. No botanist can resist such a temptation, even though he were flying for his life; and two or three times we dismounted to snatch a specimen or two, but were soon recalled to the necessity for pushing on. For the first time since we landed in Marocco, the evening sky was overcast with heavy dark clouds, and the last of twilight was fading fast when we reached the ford over the torrent. The banks are here overarched by poplars and other tall trees, and in the dim light the rapid stream seemed fiercer, and its roar more menacing, than when we crossed it in the morning. The passage was achieved; but not without a good deal of excitement among our followers, when one of the soldier’s horses slipped into a hole, and only after violent plunging and loud shouting of the natives, scrambled to the farther bank.

Without more trouble we ascended the slope on the western side of the valley, and reached the olive grove, to which we had given little attention when we passed through it in the morning. This now unexpectedly presented the most difficult, and even dangerous, stage of our excursion. Such faint glimmering of light as remained up to this disappeared under the trees, and gave place to absolute pitch darkness. The rough spreading boughs, all beset with the ragged, leafless, half-dead branchlets characteristic of old olive trees, stretched out on every side, at a height of four or five feet from the ground. There was no regular beaten track through the grove, but by day it was easy for man and horse to thread a way among the trees. The case was now very different. Our keen-sighted Shelluh followers were as much at a loss as we were. One or two men on foot went first, and we then followed, the train being brought up by the soldiers of our escort. For a while, by moving slowly and cautiously, nothing serious happened. The beasts seemed to understand the difficulty of the case, and as one or another of us rode against a branch, with head bent down to lessen the risk of mischief, they stopped at once, and even backed a step or two. Before long the cavalcade was separated by long gaps. A loud cry of pain, followed by the vociferations of the natives, brought the foremost to a full stop, and after a while we were once more near together. It was not altogether reassuring to be told by Ambak, when we asked the cause of the row, that one of the soldier’s eyes had been torn out. On this Ball determined to proceed on foot; but Hooker and Maw, after a few steps over the very broken ground, thought it better to remount, and rely on the sagacity of their four-footed companions.

In our awkward position the time seemed long; but at last we got through the olive grove, and found when we emerged from it that the night was even darker than before. It is well known to those who have made night excursions in mountain countries, that anything approaching absolute darkness, in places not overshadowed by trees or rocks, is very unusual. It may be impossible to distinguish one object from another; but the outline of opaque bodies against the sky is almost always traceable, and it rarely happens that a path is not in some degree distinguishable by its lighter hue from the surrounding rocks or vegetation. On this night, however, nothing whatever could be seen; and as we knew that the narrow track was carried for the next three or four miles along a very steep slope, precipitous in places, we felt that our difficulties were not yet over. The horses and mules, however, showed themselves deserving of the confidence placed in them. Ball, who led the way on foot, feeling his way with an alpenstock, had a narrow escape, as, misplacing his foot, he fell over the edge, but was luckily stopped by a dense mass of thorny bushes, from which he was rescued with a little trouble. We were heartily glad when, on reaching the spot where the track turns downward towards the river, we at last saw the lights of our camp glimmering through the trees. The roof of dark clouds overhead had by this time grown rather less dense; some faint light helped us down the steep slope, and a little before eleven o’clock we reached the welcome shelter of our tents. The case of the wounded soldier was first attended to. It was much less serious than we supposed; the eye was not much injured, but there was an ugly flesh wound on the face below it, where a jagged stem had torn through the upper part of the cheek. Wounds heal with remarkable readiness among the natives of this country, and after a few days nothing remained but a scar on the man’s face. A sheep, several fowls, eggs, and three large dishes of cooked food were soon forthcoming as the evening mona, and a rather late supper closed the proceedings of the day.