ver can we forget the charm of unclosing
our door in the early morning. What a flood of light and freshness and
fragrance rushed in upon us while we dressed and prepared for the
business of the day! Our apartment had a bare stone floor, its furniture
consisted of two beds, two chairs and a deal table--nothing could have
been more simple--yet this little nest in the desert appeared to us
about the nearest imaginable approach to an earthly paradise. How we
congratulated ourselves upon having had the courage to leave the dingy
rooms at the other hotel to our travelling companions, and to force an
entrance into this sweet spot! Our hosts, too, seemed delighted and most
happy at having guests in their house once more.

[Illustration: NEGRO VILLAGE AT BISKRA.]

Every morning we rose at five, took tea in our arbor before six, and
then sallied out to explore and photograph till ten, when we returned to
breakfast. Then we retired either to our 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