and my memory is not yet so enfeebled by age as to forget the fate of the Oulaad Riah. Bearing that diabolic act in mind, can I forgive my enemy, the enemy of my country? The remembrance of the fate of my kinsmen in the cave of Khartani is ever fresh before me, and will never be obliterated. No acts of justice, no deeds of kindness can atone for it it will, and it must, be avenged!"

That unfortunate expedition, which has been regarded as "a justifiable necessity," has done the French cause in Africa much harm. The French troops pursued the Oulaad Riah, who had been guilty of numerous outrages, and being hard pressed, the Arabs took refuge in the cave of Khartani. Some 700 persons in men, women, and children, thronged the windings of this subterranean stronghold, where a few armed men sufficed to oppose even a much stronger force than was then under the command of Col. Pelissier, the present duke of Malakhoff. The Arabs were repeatedly summoned to surrender, but they remained obstinately silent. It was impossible to force a way into it. The Arabs might have been starved to submission, for the cave had no other outlet than the one guarded by the French troops; but, I believe, the apprehension of the expected arrival of fresh hostile forces decided the commander upon precipitate action. An immense fire was kindled at the mouth of the cave, and sedulously fed during the whole of that night with every kind of combustible which was calculated to increase the intense smoke, thick volumes of which the wind drove into the cave. At dawn of the following day, and after sufficient time had elapsed to render the air of the silent cave breathable, some soldiers were ordered to ascertain the state of things within. They were gone but a few minutes, and they came back, we are told, pale, trembling, and terrified and no wonder, for they had found all the Arabs dead-men, women, and children-all dead! As death had left them, so they found them—the old man grasping his grey beard-the

DISAPPEARANCE OF ONE OF OUR PARTY.

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younger one grim, rigid, stern as iron, with frantic hatred and despair depicted on his countenance-the dead mother clasping her dead child! Death reigned throughout the vast cave of Khartani !

The Algerine Arabs could give us no information respecting the ruins we were about visiting, and we therefore continued following our guide, whose name was Taib, was Taib, "good." But to what other of his qualifications this adjective may be applicable I cannot tell ;-it certainly could have had no reference to the kind of knowledge for which he particularly recommended himself to us. Taib turned out to be a bad guide. After a tedious ride of ten hours, over the most detestable ground, he brought us to a ruin only about five miles' distance from Cassareen!

"This is Khoush Elkhaima!" he exclaimed triumphantly, pointing to a circular mausoleum.

We could have reached this spot, which we had no desire to visit, in half the time by an excellent road. Our disappointment was great, and our anger in the same proportion, for we could not divest ourselves of the conviction that it was not the result of stupidity that we were led astray: we believed, and not without reason, that we were intentionally misled. But we bore our disappointment philosophically, and, dismissing Taib, rode down towards the zowia of Sidy Mustapha, where, after a little altercation, we pitched our tents, in sight of the ruins of Cassareen.

We were just preparing to retire to rest, when Sadek, who seldom manifested other signs of animation than such as are absolutely indispensable at the dish of coscoso, entered our tent looking sadly aghast, and after considerable efforts to speak, ultimately succeeded in communicating this sentence:"They say there are lions in this vicinity."

"And what of that, Sadek ? Are you afraid?" we rejoined.

"Afraid!" he exclaimed, "not I; naal bo elchawaaf,

Q

cursed be the father of the coward. I am not afraid,I am a Moslem, and know not what fear is. We must all die, and what does it matter when our turn comes? We cannot alter the decrees of Allah. Everything is maktoob, predestinated."

"But you look nevertheless terrified. Have they frightened you here by some lion stories?" we asked.

"I tell you again," he answered rather impatiently, "I am not afraid, but I am concerned about Abdallah."

"And what is your concern about Abdallah?" "I am afraid the lions will devour him."

"The lions devour Abdallah! and why him more than either you or any of us?"

After a variety of questions and answers, we finally succeeded in ascertaining that Abdallah, a dirty lazy drone whom we hired at Thala, had stopped on the road and had not yet made his appearance.

"And why trouble them about Abdallah?" inquired Machfood, who stood at the door of our tent listening; "if he has fallen into the clutches of the lion, he is now either in heaven or in hell; if he has not fallen into his grasp, then, depend upon it, he is now comfortably asleep in some dowaar, encampment, and you will have him here early in the morning."

This remark satisfied Sadek, who at once retired to assume his favourite attitude, and was soon sound asleep.

We gave our lost attendant a chance to rejoin us, and therefore started later than we otherwise should have done. But he did not make his appearance, and as we heard no further tidings of him, we are left in total ignorance as to his real fate. We, however, requested the Khaleefa of Cassareen to make the requisite inquiries concerning him, which he faithfully promised to do.

CHAPTER X.

THE CANVAS CITY.

Fording the Waad Foscana-A Collector of Charity-A fruitless ChaceRuins of Sbaitla-A Moslem C. E.-Restoration of the "City of Judges -The Restorer-A Friend in need-A quarrel among Thieves-The Black Inscription-We enter Africa Propria-Ruins of Gilma-Belaarem's Request The Canvas City-The Prince.

WE abandoned the idea of visiting Khoush Elkhaima, the Telepte of the French map and of M. Lapie, and having procured a new guide, we travelled in a direction east by north towards Sbaitla. We approached the river Hattab at the part where it goes by the name of Waad Foscana, and here the guide told us to cross it with as much speed as possible, on account of its quicksands. The baggage horses were first hurried over, and reached the opposite bank in safety; the rest, except my artistic friend, followed as expeditiously. This gentleman had a natural antipathy to interfering with his charger, and had an utter dislike to managing the reins, while his horse, owing to this licence, had a peculiar predilection to a recumbent posture. This tacit understanding between the rider and his steed proved often very inconvenient to the former, who, in one day, alone found himself suddenly shifted from his saddle, to the bare ground, no less than three times! This was done without any premonitory symptoms, and the constant repetition of the practice produced such a spirit of independence in the horse as in some countries is rarely tolerated in man. He did

what he liked, and went wherever he pleased. In the present instance this absence of all restraint might have proved dangerous to both, for, instead of obeying instructions, the horse, on entering the river, stood and deliberately commenced pawing the water. The shouts of warning from the guide, and from the whole party, were disregarded. The horse now visibly decreased in size. He was fast sinking, and neither he nor the rider appeared much concerned about their impending fate. They seemed alike indifferent. A resolute effort was, however, made by us, and we succeeded in extricating both from the treacherous Waad Foscana.

Leaving the river, which flows from west to east, we approached a hilly country, and then entered a vast stretch of high table-land, thickly overgrown with halfa, through which there is neither a beaten road nor a direct path. A ruin, or a hillock, serves as a landmark, to which the traveller works his way by the tedious zigzag or serpentine intervals between the tufts or clumps of, what is here, useless vegetation, but which would fetch a high price in England or elsewhere. Having travelled nearly four hours, we steered towards a square ruined building, where we halted, and where we called Said's talents into requisition, and he, with his usual alacrity and promptness, prepared us an excellent breakfast. We were regaling ourselves upon delicious coffee, as well as on some of the stores we laid in at Tebessa, and, sheltered from the sun's rays by the shadow of the ruin, were reading over some of the articles in Galignani for the third or the fourth time. Neither encampment nor a single human being was visible within our horizon, embracing many miles. We were in the midst of a solitude abandoned alike by man and wild beast, and yet here was a vast extent of arable soil. A little labour would clear it of its rank vegetation, and would improve it for the growth of wheat, or barley, sufficient to maintain a great portion of the world's population. These sweeping plains are generally