CHAPTER XXIX.

‘Moreover, these holes are all near towns; close to those of which I am speaking, we saw the remains of a village; and I observed other similar ones in the neighbourhood of the ancient Tabarca. Neither cross nor other emblem of Christianity is found there. I saw some on the scarped face of the rock at an elevation of fifteen or twenty feet, one above the other, and it was impossible to enter the higher ones without a ladder. Some are very small, others are double, so that at the end of one there is a second smaller one. In the inside are small niches, similar to those which I have observed in the mausoleums which I have had the honour of alluding to,[231] and this makes me suppose that these holes were meant to receive dead bodies, and that they were shut up with large square stones.’[232]

There is strong reason for supposing that these are sepulchral chambers similar to the caves at Roknia, and the subject is one deserving the attention of a future traveller. There can be little doubt that the opening of the railway to El-Badja will render this country more easy of access, and less hazardous than it is at present.

We had intended spending the night with the Sheikh Abdulla bin Nasr, chief of the Oulad Nasr, whose douar is on the left or western bank of the Oued Malah (salt river), but when we reached the right bank we found it so swollen that we were reluctantly compelled to abandon the attempt to cross it that night. Fortunately there was a douar belonging to Sheikh bou Real (the father of a piastre) at no great distance, and, seeing our trouble, he offered us the most ungrudging hospitality. The Arabs of this country do not as a rule inhabit tents; their abodes are houses with a permanent wooden framework, roofed with reeds, rushes and straw, with walls of hurdle work, so tightly plaited as to be tolerably impervious to the wind, and quite so to the rain—two or three such houses, according to the wealth of the owner, are surrounded by a low fence of dry thorns, and an aggregation of several such within one common enclosure constitutes the douar.

Our host was evidently a person of some importance; his house was forty feet long by twenty broad, divided longitudinally into two portions. That to the right was raised about eighteen inches above the other, and constituted the family residence and general storeroom. Near one end sacks of wheat were piled up to the roof, forming a partition, behind which the ladies of the family retreated at night. Outside of this were two or three platforms of loose planks on wooden trestles, intended as places of refuge from the main body of the fleas, who usually take possession of the place; on these we slept in tolerable comfort, thanks to the priceless discovery we made, that by tucking the trousers inside the stockings, those disagreeable neighbours are to a great extent circumvented.

We were rather a numerous company, and the space on which it was possible to lie was limited, but we were thankful for any shelter, and when we could not sleep, it was a comforting thing to hear the wind howling around us, and the rain pattering on the roof, and to think what our condition would have been, had we been obliged to pitch our tent on the sodden ground outside. The lower division of the house served as the stable; generally it was filled with our host’s own animals, but he hospitably turned these into the yard in order to accommodate our horses and mules. This arrangement is not without its advantages and disadvantages; it was not pleasant to wade through the liquid manure with which it was carpeted; but, on the other hand, this ‘matter misplaced’ remained there, and could not flow uphill to our beds.

The ladies of the house were not very well pleased at being turned out of their ordinary sleeping-place, and were at first inclined to be sulky; but a little delicate attention to the baby, who was suffering from whooping cough, and a few presents of money, sugar and biscuits to themselves, produced the never-failing result, and they soon became quite devoted to us, and showed their affection by gifts of eggs, milk and dry brushwood to keep up the fire.

The Khalifa or substitute of the Kaid of El-Badja happened to be in the vicinity collecting arrears of revenue. As soon as he heard of our arrival, he came to pay us a visit, pressed us to return with him to his tents, which were a mile or two off, and offered to make us far more comfortable than we could be here; but we had already unpacked, and the weather was not such as to tempt us abroad again. So he accepted our excuses, and having caused abundant supplies of straw and barley to be brought, he remained with us till our departure.

Next morning we rejoiced to hear that the river had sunk sufficiently during the night to be now fordable, but the weather was still bad, and there was every prospect that, should it commence to rain again, the torrent would become as bad as ever.

We therefore started very early, taking especial care to see to the security of our loads, and accompanied by all the men of the village, by whose aid we were soon landed on the further bank of the river.

Here we were met by the Sheikh Abdulla, who pressed us most warmly to spend a day at his douar, but we were obliged to decline, as our time was limited, and we knew not what difficulties might still lie before us. He excused himself from accompanying us in person to Tabarca, as there was a mortal feud between his people and those of Mekna, further west, and though both professed to be the dutiful subjects of the Bey, there had been war between themselves for generations. It was only about a fortnight before, that a party of each tribe had met on the neutral ground between them, and one man of Mekna had been killed. He, however, found us a man belonging to another tribe, who undertook to guide us to the douar of the Sheikh of Mekna.

At the douar of Sheikh Abdulla commences a tract of country, in some places 12 miles broad and tapering to a point westward at Tabarca, called by the natives Belad er-Ramel, country of sand, or Ramel es-Safra, yellow sand. This has been engulfed by the sea-sand, which is advancing imperceptibly but irresistibly in a south-easterly direction, blown by the prevailing north-west winds from the beach.

There is no uncertain line of demarcation between it and the rich forest-land beyond; it ends abruptly in a high bank, sometimes rising like a cliff 30 feet high, sometimes sloping gradually down a valley, like a glacier, but always advancing and swallowing up the vegetation in its course. In some places it is absolutely destitute of any plants; in others broom and tufts of diss grass occur, while a few peaks higher than the general level, or some valleys sheltered from the north-west, appear like islands of verdure in this sea, or oases in this desert, of sand.

It is very interesting to watch the process by which it advances; this was quite visible even after the heavy rains which preceded our visit, and which had rendered the surface comparatively hard. It must be much more marked when the surface is dry. On placing the eye so that the edge of the sand-hill stands out in relief against the sky, a distinct haze, caused by minute particles of sand in motion, is observable, and sand and sky appear to be shaded off into each other.

The contrast between this scene of desolation and the glorious forest-land beyond, lightened up with patches of cultivation and broad grassy slopes, is most striking. After passing the sandy district, which is neutral ground between the two hostile tribes, the road passes through the forest, at a place called Sook et-Toork. The trees are of considerable size, consisting of wild olive, evergreen and deciduous oak, aspen and juniper, while the under shrub is of broom, heath and bracken.

A short ride brought us to the head-quarters of Sheikh Murad, head of the Mekna tribe (pl. Amakin). This good man was by no means glad to see us, and did not even offer us a drink of milk, but after some persuasion he sent his Khalifa to conduct us to Tabarca, and show us the best means of crossing the river there, if indeed the operation were possible, which he doubted.

His fears were too well founded: when we reached the right bank of the Oued el-Kebir, which enters the sea close to the island of Tabarca, we found it a deep and rapid river, over which no animal, far less a laden mule, could pass. And although we saw the island and the Bey’s fort not a mile beyond us, we had no alternative but to turn round and seek the hospitality of some douar of the dreaded tribe of Khomair. Our escort looked grave: but as long experience had taught us that they were extremely brave where there was no danger, insolent and exacting when they were sure of meeting with no resistance, but meek as lambs amongst such as set their master the Bey’s authority at defiance, and were little likely to brook interference from them, we paid little heed to their forebodings, and under the guidance of the Khalifa of Mekna, we went up to one of the largest douars in sight, and claimed hospitality for the night.

We appeared to be regarded with some distrust, nothing like a cordial welcome was accorded to us, but the owner of the hut placed it at our service. It was not more than fifteen feet square, reeking with foul odours, the ground splashing with liquid manure, and our party consisted of ten persons besides ourselves. The family of the host added four or five women and children to the number, so we felt that it would be quite impossible for all to spend the night within the building. In spite, therefore, of the glances of alarm which the proposition elicited from our escort, we insisted on pitching our own tent in the vicinity. No sooner was this done, and we had commenced to prepare our dinner of preserved meat with the aid of a spirit lamp, than a great circle of wild-looking fellows gathered around us and watched our movements with wondering gravity. They allowed us to eat our meal without interruption, which done, we commenced to amuse them by the exhibition of compasses, barometers, tricks with pocket-handkerchiefs and string, and my companion, who is an unerring shot, astonished them by the accuracy of his aim. I do not think, however, that it was until we produced a pot of jam, and distributed it to the assembly, that we entirely succeeded in gaining their affections. Suddenly they all thawed in a most amusing manner, and we became the best possible friends. They declared that we must never leave them; they would give us land and sheep—and as for wives! the full number of four each was at our disposal on the most reasonable terms. They at once offered to escort us by land to La Calle, or to take us to any part of their country we pleased to visit, and we felt that the pacific conquest of the dreaded Khomair had been accomplished.

The Oued el-Kebir, which in part of its course is known as the Oued ez-Zan, or river of oak-trees, is the ancient Tusca, which formed the boundary between the Roman province of Africa and Numidia. It continued to be the boundary of the native states which succeeded the Roman occupation, and eventually between the pachaliks of Algiers and Tunis. After the French occupation of Algeria the limit was fixed in its present position, considerably further west.

In some maps it is also called the Oued Barbar; such a name is quite unknown at the present day, but it is given, no doubt, on the authority of Marmol, who accompanied the expedition of Charles V. to Africa, and having for twenty years followed the standard of that Emperor, was subsequently taken prisoner, and remained seven years and eight months in captivity in North Africa. He says:—

‘The Hued-yl-Barbar is another great river, which has its source in the great Atlas, near the town of Lorbus, in the kingdom of Tunis, and makes so many turnings and windings in these mountains that travellers who go from Bone to Tunis pass it twenty-five times, and during all this course it has neither a bridge nor a boat. At the end of its course it enters the sea, near the port of Taburc, at six leagues from the town of Begge’ (El-Badja).[233]

The valley in which it flows is unsurpassed for fertility and beauty; it is hardly possible to conceive one better suited for colonisation, or a locality which could more easily be made a centre of agricultural and industrial prosperity. It is about two miles wide at Tabarca, and stretches far away among the mountains to an unknown distance. It is flat, covered with rich crops and pasture, and dotted throughout its whole extent with fine trees. It is traversed by three streams; the main one is the Oued el-Kebir, the ancient Tusca, the eastern one the Oued es-Sahila, and the western one the Oued el-Ahmer. At present it is perfectly pestiferous, and the mortality amongst the troops stationed at Tabarca is alarming, although the men are relieved every two or three months. Ever since we crossed the Oued Zergäa, on our way to El-Badja, we had met small groups of fever-stricken wretches who had formed part of the garrison here, and who were going back to Tunis to recruit their health. We never failed to get an affirmative answer when we put the question on passing them, ‘Are you from Tabarca?’

The reason, however, is so obvious, and the remedy so simple, that one cannot help wondering why the natives have never attempted it in their own interests. The district which I have already described as the ‘Country of Sand’ commences at Tabarca, and forms a range of sandhills right across the mouth of the valley, except at the one point where the rivers converge and fall into the sea. The valley is so flat that there is no natural drainage into the rivers which traverse it; the consequence is that rain water has no means of escaping to the sea, the land becomes a swamp, and remains so during a great portion of the year, till dried up by solar evaporation. While this operation is being carried on by nature, the inevitable result, malarious fever, is felt in an unusual degree.

When any great and sudden epidemic visits the country, it finds this district thoroughly prepared for its reception. The Abbé Poiret, who visited Tabarca just after Desfontaines in 1785, gives a harrowing account of the ravages committed by the plague during the previous year. Whole tribes were swept away, and the Turkish garrison perished, with the exception of five or six soldiers; the island was twice entirely depeopled, and the harvests were lost for want of labour to gather them in, while flocks of sheep and goats strayed all over the country without any owners to claim them.[234]

A few ditches, so cut as to direct the surface waters into the streams which traverse the plain, would soon remedy this evil, and convert the valley into what it ought to be, one of the finest and most salubrious districts in the Regency. It possesses every condition necessary to ensure prosperity, extensive corn and meadow land, capable of irrigation in summer; numerous flocks and herds; an unusually fine race of horses; an inexhaustible supply of the finest timber, especially oak; cork forests, and, above all, proximity to the sea, and an easy and secure anchorage, at least for small vessels.

There can be no doubt that the country is rich in minerals. A specimen of lead ore was picked up near Tabarca and brought to me. I submitted it for analysis to the English mining company at Ain Barbar, from which I have received a report that it contains 72·70 per cent. of lead, and that each ton of mineral contains 150 grammes, or 5 ounces of silver.

M. Peyssonnel (1724) mentions having visited a lead mine in this neighbourhood on his way from Cape Negro to Badja. He states: ‘We saw on our road, at about five leagues from Cape Negro, a mine of lead very abundant. The Moors, who worked it, stated that it had been opened by the ancient Christians. At the entrance to the quarry was a piece of marble, with a horse in bas-relief. We stopped at the place where they melted the lead. They mix the ore with wood in bad furnaces made with clay, and thus separate the metal very imperfectly.’[235]

The plain is covered with remains of Roman occupation. We observed no inscriptions, but Peyssonnel records four epitaphs[236] which existed in his time, and which are probably there still, so little has this district been visited by Europeans during the past century.

CHAPTER XXX.

The manner of fishing was exactly the same as at the present day. He says: ‘They fish by means of implements, to which are attached numerous bags, made of hemp. These are put in motion, the threads become entangled in the coral, upon which the fishermen pull up the instruments and extract the coral in great abundance.’[237]

In 1535 took place the celebrated expedition of Charles V. against Tunis. On the conclusion of peace the perpetual right of fishing for coral was conceded to the Spaniards.

About the same period Jean Dorea, nephew of the celebrated Andrea Dorea, captured on the coast of Corsica the no less celebrated Algerian corsair Draguth. On the partition of the spoil he fell to the share of one of the Lomellini family of Genoa, which exacted as the price of his ransom the cession of Tabarca. This was granted by Kheir-ed-din, and confirmed by the Porte.

The Lomellini came to an agreement with Charles V., who undertook the fortification and defence of the island, and built the citadel still existing, principally with the stones of the ancient city on the mainland. The Genoese agreed to pay five per cent. on all the commerce, which they made. Soon, however, the Spaniards neglected to keep up the works or pay the garrison, and the flag of Genoa was substituted for that of Spain, and though the governor was still named by the latter power, he was obliged to render his accounts to the Lomellini.

The inhabitants of the mainland owned allegiance neither to the Bey of Tunis nor to the Dey of Algiers.

Peyssonnel visited it in 1724, when it was occupied by the Genoese. He describes in detail the fortifications armed with bronze cannon, bearing the arms of Lomellini, which he says ‘make the island strong and sure, and in a condition neither to fear the Turks nor the Arabs of Barbary.’ It was inhabited by Genoese, and had a garrison of 100 soldiers, 350 coral fishers, 50 porters with their families, making a total population of 1,500 men.[238]

Near it was the trading station of Cape Negro, which was first founded by private French merchants. It was subsequently taken by the Spaniards, was for a short time occupied by the English, but from 1686 till its destruction it belonged to the French. At first there was a separate company charged with its concerns, called La Compagnie du Cap Nègre, but it eventually merged into the Compagnie d’Afrique, which established its head-quarters originally at the Bastion de France, in 1609, and moved to La Calle in 1681. The establishment at Cape Negro consisted of a director or governor, four or five assistants, a chaplain, doctor and about eighty subordinate employés. The principal trade consisted of cereals, wax, oil and hides.

Large quantities of wheat were exported to France, especially when there was a failure of crops in that country, and in consequence this establishment was regarded as of the greatest national importance.[239]

In 1728 the Lomellini family ceded the full sovereignty of the island to one of its members, Jacques de Lomellini, for 200,000 livres, and a branch of coral every year, valued at 50 piastres.

In 1741, during the war which M. Gautier, the Consul of France, brought about between his country and Tunis, the latter took possession of the island.

The Consul had incurred the displeasure of the Bey on account of a scandalous affair in which the former was mixed up, and on the occasion of a public audience he was openly insulted by the Bey, who said: ‘I am the friend of your master, but not of bullies like you—leave my presence!’[240]

While war was impending between France and Tunis, on account of this outrage, a rumour reached the Bey that the Genoese were in treaty to cede Tabarca to the French Company, which very naturally viewed with jealous feelings the possession by any other nation of so important a trading post between its two factories. He therefore determined to take it himself, before it should pass into the hands of his enemy, and for that purpose despatched a force of eight vessels to attack it by sea, while his brother Yoonus co-operated by land.

The Governor of the island was induced to venture on board the ship of the Tunisian commander, when he was at once arrested, and this spread such a panic amongst the garrison that they did not even attempt any serious resistance.

A part of the inhabitants, about 500 in number, effected their escape to La Calle, and thence proceeded to the island of San Pietro to the south-west of Sardinia, then uninhabited, where their descendants exist to the present day under the name of Tabarcini, and still pursue the coral fishery, as well as aid in loading vessels arriving at their port of Carloforte for minerals.

The Tunisian historian, Hadj Hamouda ben Abd el-Aziz, says that 900 men, women and children were taken as slaves to Tunis,[241] and their descendants still form an intermediate population between the Christians from Europe and the native Mohammedans.

After the capture of the island, Sidi Yoonus caused the defensive works to be destroyed, with the exception only of the castle built by Charles V. He also connected the island to the mainland by means of a causeway,[242] but this has long since disappeared, though some of the masonry can still be seen under water when the sea is clear.

After Bruce had left Algiers in 1765, he visited the island and proposed to the Ministry of the day to obtain possession of it as a station for the British trade in the Mediterranean. He remarked:—

M. Desfontaines, who travelled in Tunis from 1783 to 1786, was equally desirous, that this island should be taken possession of by the Government of France, and expressed his conviction that it would be more useful for his country than Port Mahon was for the English, and that, were it occupied, France would be able to lay down the law throughout the Mediterranean, and that England would be excluded and lose the Levant trade.

On the mainland opposite to the island are several ruins of European construction, and on the hill above, a modern fort, occupied by a detachment of troops from Tunis. Traces of Roman occupation exist in the plain, but no remains of any importance, and we could hear of no inscriptions.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Peyssonnel, in speaking of the country between La Calle and Bone, says: ‘As this country is full of lions, tigers, bears, and other wild animals, the flocks of the Arabs are often disturbed, and even the Arabs themselves are not safe in their tents, so that they are obliged to place sentinels, who cry out during all the night, and cause the dogs to bark, in order to frighten away these savage and ferocious animals. The lion, the king of beasts, is not so cruel or so much to be feared as is supposed. He rarely attacks men, still Arabs are found here who have fought and killed lions with their knives, after having received numerous wounds, which these terrible animals have inflicted with their claws and teeth. On the sea coast, where there are woods and quantities of wild boars and deer on which the lions feed, these are less dangerous than in the mountains.’[243]

The tigers here mentioned are probably panthers, or some other of the felines found in Algeria. Bears have long been extinct, although the bones of several species have been found in the cave of Djebel Thaya, and the Abbé Poiret, a zealous and accurate naturalist, saw the skin of one brought in during a visit he paid to Bordj Ali Bey, near La Calle, in 1785.[244] The red deer have quite disappeared from the coasts, indeed from every part of Algeria and Tunis, except in the territory of the Beni Salah.

The following interesting remarks on this subject are taken from the Mémoires of the Archæological Society of Constantine for the past year:—

‘While Captain Sergent occupied the position of chief of the Bureau Arabe at Jemmapes, he collected information of the greatest possible interest on the subject of the recent disappearance of the bear.

‘At the commencement of this century the bear was found all over the mountains situated north of Azeba, between the two rivers of Saf-Saf and Oued el-Kebir. It has gradually disappeared from that country, until then inhabited, consequent on the migration of the tribes, who occupied it, elsewhere. The Beni Mahenna have retained the remembrance of a great number of hunters, who passed their lives in pursuing the deer and the bear, on the crests, covered with arbutus, between Djebel ben-Alia and Bou-Kseïba. The most celebrated of these was Ali En-Nahel, belonging to the tribe of Oulad Ataï; several others are also cited by name.

‘There are numerous sayings which perpetuate the remembrance of the bear. Such an one is said to be as rude as a bear, he grumbles like a bear. Rivers, rocks, springs, and even trees have retained the name of this animal, such as Oued Deb, Geläat ed-Deb, Ain ed-Debba, &c. The bear, moreover, is said still to be found in the mountains of Morocco. From an archæological point of view the bear also deserves our attention; like all the great animals of Africa known to the ancients, it figures in the mosaics and on the earthen lamps preserved in our museums.’

The remarks of Bruce before quoted[245] with reference to the Oulad Sidi Bou Ghanim, were equally applicable to the Khomair; one of the reasons of their exemption from taxation was their utility in killing lions. At the present day they are no longer required to destroy wild animals, but they readily admit the obligation under which they lie to guard the frontier in their lord’s interests against all comers, and so well do they perform this duty, that I am not aware of any Europeans having been permitted to pass through it but ourselves.

There is a general opinion that this tribe is of Berber origin. I am not aware of any direct authority for this hypothesis. There is, of course, a strong presumption that the original Berber stock would have lingered in a purer condition in these inhospitable mountains, than in other parts of the country more liable to be overrun by the Arab conquerors. The Khomair are tall and stalwart fellows, with a bold and fearless demeanour, very different to that of the Arab of the present day; but these are characters which their wild and active life could hardly fail to engraft on any stock; they do not claim any affinity with the Kabyles or Chawia, they speak no other language than Arabic, and we saw no traces amongst them of light hair, blue eyes, or a fair European complexion, such as are so frequently met with both in the Aures Mountains and in the Kabylia of Djurdjura. When pressed to give an account of their origin, they universally declared themselves to be of Arab descent, but that their forefathers came from the Gharab, or West, somewhere in the kingdom of Morocco.

Ibn Khaldoun, in his history of the Berbers,[246] makes no allusion to this tribe, though he mentions an Arab one, the name of which is somewhat similar in its European guise, though totally different in Arabic, the Ghomara inhabiting the mountains of the Riff country. He derives their name from the root غَمَرَ to overflow, on account of the manner in which they, being Arabs, overran the Berber country. He says that they are broken up into an innumerable number of branches and families all over the country, and are found even as far as Tripoli. It is hardly possible that these races can be identical, for although there are certain letters in the Arabic language susceptible of transposition, it is unlikely that the خ kh should ever take the place of غ gh.

Berbers do exist in this valley; we met numbers of the Kabyle race of Zoaoua (whence the modern word Zouave) whose ancestors came from the Kabylia of Djurdjura to take military service under the Government of the Bey; these men were the Swiss of Africa, and went all over the country, as far even as the Pentapolis, as mercenary soldiers.

We had spent the previous evening in a most pleasant and instructive manner amongst our new friends, and were delighted at the idea of passing through their country to La Calle, and perhaps of returning on some future occasion to explore it more thoroughly. As we suspected, the tales of their barbarity and ferocity were very greatly exaggerated; at the same time, I confess I should not like to go far into their country without being accompanied by an influential member of the tribe, who would be responsible for my safety.

We started from Tabarca at 9·15 a.m., and followed the left bank of the Oued el-Ahmer (Red River), the most westerly of the three which drain the valley of the Oued el-Kebir. We proceeded in a south-westerly direction along a tolerably well-cleared path, made by the Tunisian Government for the purpose of bringing timber down to the coast. Even in the driest weather there is always a considerable body of water in the river, and now it was swollen by several days’ hard rain. Beautiful rills and mountain streams descended at every few hundred yards to add their tribute to the torrent; the banks were in some places clothed with ivy and ferns, and everywhere densely shaded by handsome trees, ilex, chêne zan (Quercus Mirbeckii), aspens, and hawthorns of such gigantic stature as fully to merit the appellation of forest trees; while the ground was carpeted with a profusion of wild flowers of every hue—blue pimpernel, centaury, valerian, pink and white cistus, myrtles, wild roses and yellow broom.

Instead of the koubbas so common in other parts of the country, the tombs of holy men are here marked by a few stones, broken pots, and one or two white flags stuck amongst them. The first that we met was that of Sidi Bou Firnan (My Lord, the father of cork oaks), who had possessed a number of these useful trees before his beatitude. As our guide passed his rustic shrine, he stopped a moment, held his hands open as if they were a book, and muttered a short prayer. The good Hadj is a holy man himself; he has made the pilgrimage to Mecca, and is delighted to find that I have been to Arabia, and have visited Jerusalem and especially Kerouan, next to Mecca and Medina, the most holy city in the eyes of Western Mohammedans. He is never tired of telling everyone he meets the marvellous tale, and of communicating the fact that the English are the most faithful friends the Sultan has, and are almost Mohammedans themselves. It is not in the heart of the Khomair country, that one would try to controvert this theory of his.

After having ridden for about five miles, we crossed the Oued el-Ahmer, and entered a country called El-Baiadha, now a moor of tree heath, but once a great forest, as the blackened stumps of trees, destroyed by fire, attest. Here and there a few Aleppo pines and junipers are still found, and on the summit of the hill, about 1,100 feet above the sea, and under a gigantic oak, we observed the first appearance of Roman colonisation in this district. Only a few cut stones remain, but there could be no doubt regarding their origin.

We now descended into the valley of the Oulad Sidera, which runs in a north-easterly direction for a distance of fifteen or twenty miles. We entered it at about the broadest part, where it had a width of rather more than a mile. A short distance lower down the hills converge, forming a narrow gorge called Khangat el-Hadeed, or the iron pass; but as our route lay in an opposite direction, we were unable to examine it. Beyond it again appeared the high peak of Djebel Atatfa, but the hills which bound the valley itself appear to have no other name than that of the tribe which inhabits them.

If a poet or a painter wished to depict a valley ‘sacred to sweet peace,’ he could do no better than take for his model that of the Oulad Sidera. It is admirably cultivated throughout, and from every direction beautiful sparkling streams join the river, which flows along the bottom. The pasturage is rich and succulent, and the brilliant carmine of some of the clovers contrasted with the bright yellow of other species, nestling in a carpet of green, still fresh and wet with the late rains, added a richness to the landscape, which can nowhere be seen in a more northern country.

Not only by the river banks, but along the bottom of the hills, and indeed here and there throughout the whole course of the valley, are trees of very unusual size. As a rule, the cork oaks in Africa do not attain the dimensions they do in Spain; yet here we saw some not less than fifty or sixty feet high, and with trunks four feet in diameter. I also observed, what I had seen nowhere but at the Fontaine des Princes in the Forest of Edough, ancient trees of various kinds, the upper surface of whose branches was covered with a thick layer of moss, out of which grew masses of polypodium and other ferns. This is the best possible certificate of climate, for in a locality subject to great heat or drought, especially in one exposed to the sirocco wind, such vegetation could not exist during a single summer.

The villages throughout the district we traversed were carefully concealed from observation, and sites have been chosen high up on the crests of the hills, with the double object, no doubt, of defence and economy of space. The huts are rude and squalid, built generally of branches of trees and diss grass, sometimes with a little plastering of mud. Near the upper end of the valley of the Oulad Sidera, under the shade of some grand old olive-trees, whose age it is impossible to conjecture, stand the remains of a Roman farm. The walls are still in some places fifteen feet high, built of small hammer-dressed stones, with finely-cut masonry at the angles, and here and there an upright course of similar stones in the walls. The building was rectangular, twenty-two paces long by twenty wide, regular in shape except at one corner, where was probably the entrance gate. The interior was so thickly overgrown with briars and weeds that we could detect no remains of partitions.

We saw other ruins further up, and heard of the existence of many more, so that there can be no doubt that even these inaccessible mountains must have been occupied in a serious manner by the Romans.

Peaceful and smiling as this valley seems, it is occupied by a sturdy and truculent race, whom one would rather meet as friends than as foes, and it is the refuge of all the unquiet spirits who have made the plains of Tunis or the frontiers of Algeria too hot to hold them. While we were examining the ruins I have just described, a party of ill-looking fellows kept creeping up to us, dodging from tree to tree, to escape as much as possible our observation. No sooner, however, did they see our friend the Hadj, than they seemed to conclude that all was right; they came forward at once and saluted him with great respect, kissing the palms of each others’ hands. Then I overheard a whispered conversation—

‘Who are they?’

‘English travellers going to La Calle.’

‘By the life of the Prophet, are they English?’

‘Certainly, or you would not have seen them with me. This one has been to Arabia, Jerusalem and Kerouan!’

‘Wallah! has he really?’

‘By the life of your head he has!’

This seemed to satisfy them entirely: we became excellent friends, and they allowed us to examine their arms and curious leathern pouches in the most affable manner. Each had a short straight sword, not much longer than an English drummer-boy’s, with an old-fashioned flint pistol; and two or three leathern bags curiously worked, one containing flint and steel, another powder and ball, a third a small knife, and some had a larger one to contain miscellaneous articles. They laughed at our temerity in coming into their country, through which they assured us that no European had ever before passed; but as the English were such faithful friends of the Sultan, and in the habit of visiting holy places like Kerouan and Jerusalem—in fact, so nearly Mohammedans, we were welcome, and might go where we pleased. I laughingly asked them what they would have done had we been French. My friend gave a broad grin, and passed his forefinger across his throat in reply. Perhaps they might not have adopted such extreme measures; but it is quite certain, that there is not a man along the frontier line, who would permit a Frenchman to advance a step after he was observed; and even an Englishman would find it impossible to penetrate from Algeria. The Khomair are very like Arabs everywhere else when removed from civilisation, wild and fanatical while their suspicions are aroused, but as tractable as children when these are allayed. When a traveller can make them laugh, the victory is gained; hence our success with the pot of jam.

The disturbances in European Turkey had broken out not very long before our visit, and we were much interested to observe the eagerness with which they demanded news of ‘the Black Mountain,’ for under that designation they seemed to include all the disturbed districts; but though they were in a state of great excitement, and would no doubt have marched without the least hesitation to attack a body of Christians anywhere near, if thereby they could have aided in the Holy War, I doubt whether their love of the Sultan, or their attachment to El-Islam would have carried them the length of forming a contingent to go to the scene of war in his defence.

We had not a chance of forming an opinion of the fair sex in this happy valley; every woman, who observed us in the distance, fled into the woods affrighted at the unwonted spectacle.

About half-past two we arrived at the Oued Froor, a picturesque mountain stream, which marks the French frontier; we had some difficulty in getting our baggage animals across—several times their loads slipped off—and we had to enlist the assistance of some of the Khomair, whom we saw there, to enable us to cut a way through the thick brushwood on the Tunisian side. They were most obliging and willing to help us in our difficulties without the least expectation of reward. One of them asked our aid in his trouble—his brother had a wife and baby, the former of whom, on account of some matrimonial difference, had fled over the frontier, and would not listen to any proposition of reconciliation. We could only advise him to apply to the French authorities, who are ever ready to lend their willing assistance in such matters.

Their rule on the frontier is extremely just and paternal. The hatred, with which they are regarded by such tribes as the Oulad Sidera, is the inevitable result of a well-organised system of government, coming into such close contact with savages unrestrained by any power save their own will.

Shortly after crossing the frontier we saw on our left, on the further side of a steep ravine, an important Roman ruin. Time would not permit us to inspect it closely, but it appeared to be either a fortress or a large agricultural establishment. The natives could not tell me whether it contained any inscribed stones, but they said that there were representations of rams and other animals sculptured on the walls. This is called by them El-Kasr, the palace, and the valley Oued el-Kasr. It is the spot marked on M. de St. Marie’s map as Ouksir R. R., but the configuration of the ground, and especially the course of the river, on this map are altogether incorrect.

The Oued Froor, where we passed it, flows in a south-easterly direction, but I had no means of ascertaining its ultimate course. It appeared to be an affluent of some other stream, which probably joins the Oued Oulad Sidera, and not to flow directly towards the Mediterranean.

The river of the Oulad Sidera flows in a similar direction, and is probably an affluent of the Oued el-Kebir in the upper part of its course.

The French have not shown their usual sagacity in fixing the boundaries of their colony, or rather I should say a desire to avoid even the appearance of encroaching on their neighbours, and perhaps some pressure from other European Powers, has induced them to abandon much valuable territory, which, if the prescription of eighteen centuries deserves to be taken into account, undoubtedly belonged to Algeria.

After the fall of Jugurtha, 106 B.C., the country between the east coast of Tunis and the Atlantic was divided into three provinces, Africa proper, Numidia and Mauritania. At subsequent periods these were further subdivided, but two great landmarks remained constant during all the political and geographical changes of North Africa—the river Tusca, or Oued el-Kebir, formed the eastern boundary of Numidia, and the Malua or Molochath, the modern Molouia, the western one of Mauritania Cæsariensis, dividing it from Tingitana, the present Empire of Morocco.

These boundaries continued, almost to the period of the French conquest, to limit the territory owning allegiance to the Dey of Algiers and the Bey of Constantine. When the present boundary question had to be settled, the French naturally claimed the line of the Tusca on the east; the Tunisians as stoutly contended that La Calle belonged to them; so a compromise was effected fixing Cape Roux as the limit; about as unsatisfactory and undefined a frontier line as it is possible to conceive.

The same thing happened to the west. The French claimed the ancient line; the Moroccans demanded the Tafna, and, as a compromise, the Kiss was accepted—a small river which does not run more than twelve miles along the boundary line. This latter compromise was the less necessary as the country in dispute was actually in the military occupation of the French. The consequence is, that Algeria has no natural frontiers at all, and it has on either side of it one of the strongest, most warlike and most turbulent tribes in North Africa, the Khomair to the east and the Beni Snassen to the west.

Some little distance from where we crossed the frontier, not perhaps more than two miles in a direct line, though we traversed very much more ground to reach it, is a douar of Arabs; and a ruined stone building, called Bordj el-Aïoun, Castle of the Wells, from which a high road, very rough at first, but gradually improving, leads through a magnificent forest of cork oak to the copper mines of Kef Omm-et-Taboul, a large and prosperous establishment exporting 600,000 francs’ worth of mineral per annum, situated on the last slope of the mountain, and so past the fine fresh-water lake of Guerah el-Hout (lake of fish), along the plain to La Calle, where we arrived, men and beasts both thoroughly exhausted, at half-past eight at night. Our day’s march, measured on the map, was not perhaps more than from 28 to 30 miles, but we must have actually gone over at least 44 miles of ground. Our horses, which had borne us so bravely all the way from Susa, here gave in entirely; on the following day they were unable to move, but the baggage mules were as fresh as ever, and seemed absolutely incapable of fatigue.

La Calle is the nearest French town to the Tunisian frontier, and though it has a very small and inconvenient harbour, it is the headquarters of the coral-fishery, and a place daily rising in importance. The old town was contained within the present fortifications, built on a ridge of rocks about 400 yards long, surrounded by the sea, except on the east side, where a bank of sand 150 yards in length connects it with the land. A new town has been built on the mainland, and there is a project for creating a military port and harbour of refuge at a short distance to the west. A new and highly profitable branch of trade has sprung up within the last few years, the salting and preparation of sardines, which bids fair to become one of the staple industries of Algeria. But its former history interested us more than its actual condition. The traveller going from Bone to Tunis usually touches here for a short time, and it is right that he should know what an important part it once played in the relations between France and the Barbary States.

The French Compagnie d’Afrique was established under Louis XIV. Its principal factory was at first established at the Bastion de France, and its object was to fish for coral and to purchase grain; in the latter pursuit it had as a rival an English company established at La Calle, but on its failure, the entire trade fell into the hands of the French, for which privilege, however, they were obliged to pay very heavy taxes to the Government of Algiers and the Bey of Constantine. Gradually, as the coral fisheries began to fail, the Company devoted itself more to commerce, and purchased large quantities of cereals, wool, leather and wax.

An interesting picture of life at La Calle is given by the Abbé Poiret, who travelled in Barbary from 1785 to 1786.

When he landed, the country round was being devastated by the plague, and the comptoir of the French jealously barricaded its gates to prevent all communication with the interior. The Arabs, irritated and jealous at seeing the Christians exempt from a disease which was committing such cruel ravages amongst themselves, tried by every means in their power to introduce the contagion. They buried plague-stricken corpses at the gates of La Calle, and they threw rags saturated with virus over the walls, and, independently of these secret attacks, a continued and open state of hostility seemed to prevail. La Calle was governed by an agent, having the title of governor, with about fifteen other officers under his direction. The Arabs were excluded from the place, with the exception of a few who were retained as hostages, or who were employed in manual labour. The inhabitants were from three to four hundred, mostly Corsicans and natives of Provence. Some were employed in the coral fishery; others, with the name of soldiers, were occupied in guarding the cattle when taken outside for pasture. Sometimes these same soldiers, in the guise of carters, were sent to the neighbouring forests to cut wood. Others, called frégataires, were occupied in loading vessels, transporting corn, cleaning the port, and similar works, and there was in addition a staff of bakers, blacksmiths, masons and other artificers. All these employés were paid, fed and lodged by the Company, but the fair sex was rigorously excluded. If sometimes the Governor was permitted to bring his wife, serious troubles were sure to result, and he was rarely able to keep her there for any length of time.

The climate was then exceedingly unhealthy. Violent fevers were of constant occurrence, which carried off their victims in four days, and the mortality amongst the employés was immense.

These were people of the worst character, as the Company received indiscriminately all applicants, without asking any questions. Most of them were convicts who had escaped from justice in France, men lost through libertinage and debauch, without principles of religion, or the least sentiment of probity.

At La Calle it was only the worst crimes of which any cognisance was taken, all others were allowed to go without punishment, as the Governor had only the shadow of authority, and it was necessary to humour this nest of ruffians always ripe for revolt. In addition to the heavy taxes paid directly to the State, the Company was subjected to indirect taxation to an enormous extent, and was also subjected to the most humiliating restrictions. It was compelled to feed all the Arabs, who chose to present themselves. If an Arab killed a Christian he was liable to a fine of 300 piastres as blood money, which was never paid, but in the event of a Christian killing an Arab, he was forced to pay 500 piastres, which sum was exacted to the last farthing. The Company was not permitted to appoint its own interpreters; these were always named by the State, and the only qualification, that appeared to be required, was sufficient sagacity to enable him to betray the Christian.

In 1806 Mr. Blanckley, the British Consul-General at Algiers, contracted with the Dey for the possession of Bone and La Calle, which latter had been a century and a half in the hands of the French, whose contract had expired. 50,000 dollars, or 11,000l., was the sum agreed on as an annual rent. This was actually paid for some years, without any result following, save that of keeping out the French for a time.[247] La Calle was re-occupied by the French on July 15, 1836, shortly after the capture of Bone.

Here our journey may be said to have terminated; we dismissed our horses and attendants, bade adieu to our Khomair friends, who had accompanied us so far, and proceeded in an open boat to Bone, where we took the steamer to Algiers.

In these two journeys, though I have not actually followed the route of Bruce, I have visited every place of importance which he described, and, with the single exception of Hydra, I have examined and described every ruin which he drew, in Algeria and Tunis.

I could not spare time to follow him in the Belad el-Djerid and eastward to the Pentapolis. There I must leave him to tell his own tale, illustrating this as far as I can by the descriptions of more recent travellers. The temptation to follow him to Tripoli was very great, but I was reconciled to the impossibility of doing this by the knowledge that Mr. Edward Rae, who has already earned the reputation of being an intelligent traveller and an accurate observer, had just returned from a journey through that country and the southern parts of Tunis, including Kerouan. I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance at Tunis, and I have little doubt that his ‘Country of the Moors,’ which is being published simultaneously with the present work, will give much valuable information regarding these little-known regions. It will materially contribute to elucidate the diary of Bruce, which unfortunately is out of all proportion, as regards interest, to his admirable architectural drawings. How different the case would have been, but for that disastrous shipwreck at Bengazi!