Lippincotts Magazine, Vol. 22, September, 1878 | Page 6

own apartments, or, if not too
hot, to the shade of the garden, and did the dolce far niente till the sun
had passed the zenith and had begun to sink in the west. Then, again,
on foot or donkey-back, we visited the different parts of the oasis,
returning in time for a six-o'clock dinner; after which, the room usually
becoming insufferably hot, we once more sought our open-air
drawing-room and took our evening coffee by the light of the stars.
Mere existence in such an atmosphere is bliss. One does not seem to
breathe, as at home, machine-like, just what is necessary for the
maintenance of life, but, exhilarated with the pureness and freshness,
one drinks in long breaths of pleasure. It would be difficult to give an
idea of the charm of our morning and evening rambles--the delicious
shade, the beautiful light and shadow, the sweet wafts of warm
aromatic fragrance, the refreshing murmur of the numberless runlets of
water--everything so calm, so full of dreamy beauty.
What the Nile is to Egypt, the stream which flows here is to Biskra. By
considerable labor it has been made to meander among the palms in
numerous tiny canals, thus by an elaborate system of irrigation causing
the barren soil of the desert to become fertile and bring forth fruit.
Everywhere the little runlets are led round the very roots of the trees,
for the palm, it is said, loves to have its head in the fire and its feet in
the water. Here and there even a few cereals are extracted from the
unwilling soil. At the time of our visit, in April, it was harvest-time,
and the husbandman was busy gathering in his little store. The
date-harvest, which constitutes the chief wealth of the district, does not
take place till October.
Besides the town proper and the fort, there is at Biskra a negro village,
while scattered throughout the oasis there are numerous mud-built
mosques and cottages, which contrast charmingly with the tropical
vegetation and add greatly to the picturesque beauty of the scene. In
addition to these abodes of the settled population, there are also groups

of real black Arab tents, which form the habitations of the more
nomadic races. These are here to-day and away to-morrow, carrying all
their possessions with them. The troops of Arabs we had met en route
belonged to these wandering tribes, and were going to the Tell country
for summer pasturage. While we were at Biskra there was a wedding in
one of these dingy black tents, and a very queer place it seemed to us to
bring a bride to; nevertheless, she was conducted thither in triumph,
riding upon a mule, while the Arabs in front of the tent fired feu-de-joie
amid the most noisy demonstrations of welcome and rejoicing.
Within the town there are several streets, some large open places, and a
covered market-hall, where a brisk trade is daily carried on, large
quantities of dates, small quantities of grain, cutlery--knives and
daggers with roughly-hewn wooden sheaths--primitive musical
instruments, embroidered leather caps, straps, tobacco-pouches, etc.,
being exposed in the various stalls. Altogether, a singular medley, and
quite unlike any European market.
The wild music of the tom-tom, a primitive Arab drum, seemed to us
never to cease at Biskra. At night, when we retired to rest, it was
drumming in our ears, and in the morning, when we awoke, its
monotonous tones still floated on the air. At all hours of the day and
night the cafés are frequented by pleasure-seekers. Hence the incessant
drumming, as the music of the tom-tom seems to be an indispensable
adjunct to Arab enjoyment.
Once or twice we made a round of the cafés, and very grim and solemn
the entertainment appeared to us. In one, for example, which was
crowded with tall grave men calmly puffing at their pipes and sipping
their coffee, we found a danseuse performing--a tall female figure, who
glided and swayed about in the mazes of a strange dance, while the
musician sat cross-legged in a corner of the room playing the inevitable
tom-tom. This Arab danseuse was as unlike our performers of the ballet
as she well could be. Her clothing was a loose flowing drapery, which
fell from her shoulders to her heels, while instead of agility of motion
or sprightliness there was nothing but a dreamy gliding, a kind of
somnambulistic movement, apparently without plan or purpose, but not

without a certain grace. In another café two children were pulling each
other about in a less graceful and equally meaningless dance; while in a
third we found a professional story-teller holding forth in earnest tones
to a group gathered closely round him. From the looks of the spectators
it was impossible to say whether or not they