To visit it from Algiers he will either have to leave by the 6 A.M. train, or go there on Sunday, and sleep the night.

This is quite practicable, as there are two or three unpretending, but clean and tolerably comfortable little inns in the village-Hôtel et Café Benoît-du Commerce. Omnibus from the station no charge. Rooms had better be secured beforehand, and a private sitting-room ordered, as on market-days the village is naturally crowded. The market, which is attended by some four or five thousand Arabs and Kabyles, besides numerous colonists, is a most picturesque and curious scene. It begins at daybreak and should be visited not later than 7 A.M., although the whole proceedings are not concluded much before midday. The market is divided into various distinct portions. On one side is the cattle-market, by no means the most pleasing section, since the Arabs have no very great notion of humanity; on the other the horse-fair, where animals not altogether types of the vaunted "Arab steed" are mounted by grand-looking Arabs, and put through their paces. Between these is the Cadi's Court, where all matters in dispute are settled by a grave and turbaned magistrate, who must be possessed of more than Solomon's wisdom, to come to any decision on any subject whatever, amid the general din that assails him, since it seems to be a recognised rule in an Arab court of justice, that complainant, defendant, and counsel on both sides should all speak at once. Through all, the dignitary remains passive and undisturbed, and a kind of happy-go-lucky sentence is pronounced. In front of the Cadi's Court is a long row of Arab tents, before which cobblers are seated, hard at work upon old moccasins,

a score or so of native

THE ARAB MARKET,

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which have doubtless to be given back to the owners as good as new" before the end of the fair. A parallel row of camel's-hair tents is occupied by a company of grocers. Here may be seen skins of wild boar filled with olive oil, piles of Sahara dates, dried figs from Kabylia, coffee, rice, and sweet concoctions of unpromising appearance. Every here and there is a café, before which, on the usual oval palmetto-mats, sit groups of smokers and coffee-drinkers, refreshing themselves after the exertion of a "bargain," which on these occasions is a matter of much time and a good deal of breath. In another row will be found all kinds of materials from which native clothing is manufactured; goodly piles of burnous for the men, and delicate striped haiks for the women, as to the purchase of which, their lords and masters have doubtless received many minute instructions, for it need scarcely be said that no women are to be seen at the fair, other than the Spanish and Mahonese vegetable-merchants, who stand behind piles of their fresh lettuces, peas, and artichokes.

Here

It is a scene full of bustle, life, and activity. Here, a couple of kneeling, groaning camels are being laden with purchases. There, a stately figure, scheik of some mountain tribe, stalks grandly along through the crowd, distinguished scarcely at all by his dress, but followed everywhere by salutations both graceful and respectful. two friends meeting, fall upon each other's neck after the fashion of the ancient patriarchs. On all sides are hundreds and thousands of dark, swarthy, bright-eyed faces, and majestic forms clad in the grandly folded toga, which modern civilization has discarded, but which, ragged or dirty even as it may be, and, alas! often is, lends a manly

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dignity to the human form, which the very best modern. tailoring fails altogether to impart. It is a curious fact, but a fact all the same, that the European beside the Arab looks ridiculous. Let his top-hat be ever so shiny, his clothes ever so well-fitting, his form ever so straight, he looks at a disadvantage beside the spare figure and the flowing draperies of the wandering Bedouin whom he despises. To quote M. Fromentin—

"The Arab has one special privilege which, in spite of all, ennobles him—he always escapes being ridiculous. He is poor without being abased. He is sordid without being mercenary. Even his raggedness has a grandeur about it. As a beggar there is in him something of the typical Lazarus or Job."

So writes the one Frenchman among many, to whom the poetical or artistic side of the Arab character has been revealed. Let those who doubt the force of what he writes, wander a brief hour among the Arab crowds at Bou-Farik. Formerly it was not by any means safe for Europeans to attend these native fairs, and troops were called out to protect any strangers who might venture to present themselves at the Bou-Farik market. Now, Europeans and natives mingle peacefully, if not amiably, together, and the only outrage against which an European need guard, is the chance of nimble fingers, Arab or otherwise, making themselves acquainted with the lining of his outside pockets.

CHAPTER XXIII.

BLIDAH.

"Wo die Citronen blühn

Im dunklen Laub die Gold-orangen glühn."

Goethe.

HOTELS.-Hôtel Geronde, in a good open situation, nearest the station. Very clean and comfortable, and most obliging landlord. Excellent food-dinner, 3 fr.

Hôtel d'Orient, on the "Place." Not quite so clean, but extremely good table.

Hôtel de France. Situation inferior, but rooms clean and food good. Charges very moderate.

Hotel omnibuses from the station; no charge. Fiacres, I fr. station is about half a mile from the town.

BLIDAH

The

LIDAH is a corruption of the Arab El-Boleida, the little town.

"Others call thee El-Boleida,

But I call thee Ourida" (the little rose),

sang the Arab poet. And in truth the situation of Blidah justifies all that has been said in its praise. Although the mountains at the foot of which it lies are not very lofty, being only snow-capped during the winter months, and the scenery which surrounds it, is for the most part, pleasing rather than striking, it possesses attractions which are usually found to be irresistible, not the least of which are the mul