HOME!
My fellow-passenger, the Sportsman.--Passage from Tunis to Malta
in a Sailing Vessel.--Disagreeables of the Passage.--Home,
Overland.--Conclusion.
On the steamer _Meludiah_, for Malta, I found a sporting Frenchman
on deck. He had been my fellow-passenger from Bona to Tunis, and
carried a revolver and a gun; the first for porpoises, the second
for gulls, &c. He recounted to me, with great glee, how he had shot a
grosbeak, and some other small birds, near Tunis, and given them to
the cook on board for our dinner. It was a Mussulman steamer, and,
being Rhamazan, they did not serve dinner till after sunset. I was
nearly famished. The first course was salad served with rancid oil,
which immediately brought me and the Frenchman on deck. During the
rest of the passage I made Angelo serve my repasts. The Frenchman was
a character. "_Je viens de perdre ma femme_," he said; "_il y a
des femmes mechantes vous savez, Monsieur, et des femmes bonnes; la
mienne etait bonne! mais bonne! Tenez, je l'ai mis dans le cercueil
moi meme, et maintenant je suis ici pour me distraire, car je n'en
trouverai pas une comme celle-la, allez. Je ferai le voyage, j'irai
en Alexandrie--n'importe ou, travailler j'irai a l'Isthme de
Suez._" At last we arrived in Malta. It is a pity for officers and
others there is no regular communication by steam between Malta and
Tunis; for the _desagremens_ of a sailing-vessel are by no means
despicable. Witness a friend of mine's report thereon:--
"25th.--Came on board the _Gemo_ at seven A.M.; went on shore again at
nine, and stopped all day. Dined and slept on board; rough living
here, but no cattle, which is a great thing.--26th. Set sail at eleven
A.M.; fair wind; fine day, and very hot.--27th. Rain all night; wind
light and variable, and one made but little progress. Cape Bona still
close to us this morning. We are only going at three and three-quarter
knots per hour. A fine breeze got up at twelve, and at seven we passed
Panteleria Isle, going at seven knots.--28th. Wind fell away early
this morning, and about eleven blew strong from the east: the worst
quarter it could for us.--29th. This accursed wind has lasted all
night, and blows harder this morning; the sea, too, is very high. It
is intensely miserable; rough sea, bad grub, no one to talk to, no
books, and no idea when we shall reach Malta.--30th. East wind still;
an almighty swell on; one can neither sit, lie, nor stand with
comfort. The coast of Sicily is very plain this morning. We are about
forty-five miles from Malta, but no one can say when we shall reach
it. Fresh provisions have nearly come to an end. Let any one ever
catch me on board a sailing-ship again, unless I am forced.--1st. Half
a gale, and a heavy sea last night; got no sleep, as the ship jumped
so; and the mattress--fancy now!--is stuffed with sticks, and is so
cursedly hard, that, after five days of it, one's bones ache all over.
A very fine day; but this awful wind still east. At eleven A.M. we
were off Gozo, only twenty miles from our destination; but it was
impossible to get there. The diet and food on board are awful; I am
nearly starved. There was only one thing amusing. A Maltese, who slept
in the other berth near me, sneezed nine times in as many minutes;
and, after each sternutation, he went through a short formula of
prayer, beginning 'Santo Something,' to keep the devil to leeward, I
suppose; and, egad, I think he must have been on board _in propria
persona_, under some disguise, to have caused us so bad a passage.
This afternoon, to vary the programme pleasantly, we had a dead calm.
Our miseries seem to have no end. I begin to think I shall rival the
'Flying Dutchman,' and never make my port, but sail on for ever.--2nd.
A north-west wind sprang up at five P.M., and we reached Malta at
seven."
Thus, the sailing-vessel took seven days to do what I did in thirty
hours on the steamer. After the usual amount of driving, dining, &c.,
at Malta, in the words of the poet I bid
Adieu to joys of La Valette,
Adieu, sirocco, sun, and sweat;
Adieu, ye females without graces,
Adieu, red coats and redder faces;
Adieu, the supercilious air
Of those that strut _en militaire_.
And now the word is "homeward;" and across a track well known to the
English tourist, we journey onward, till
The mountains of Trieste afar are seen,
And farther yet, the Alps, whose highest peak
Now glitters with a gay and snowy sheen
In the bright sun; as quick our sailors seek
An anchorage in the port, where Turk and Greek,
Swede and Levantine, and full many more,
The haughty Spaniard, and the German sleek,
All races, from the Nile unto the Nore,
Into Trieste, in many a varied costume pour.
Along thy silent streets I wander now,
Venice, once queen, aye, empress of the sea!
Fairest in art as clime, yet sunk so low
Beneath the despot Teuton's rule, I see
Thy halls deserted, fallen, yet in thee
Much splendour to admire there still exists.
Well could I quit my native land, and flee
The rugged northern clime, the vapid mists,
With thee to dwell, did I that only what me lists.
The fiery car speeds on her iron way,
Through hill, o'er valley quickly do we fly.
There lies the grot of Adelberg, and day
Sees us past Gratze's fortress hasten by
Like lightning's flash, nor stop until we spy
St. Stephen's dome from out the darkness peer.
Like _bas reliefs_ her turrets in the sky
O'ertop Vienna, great the pious fear
Of holy men, who such vast beauteous structures rear.
There Coeur de Lion lived and almost died,
In yonder ruin gray o'erbent by time,
But that a troubadour, a servant tried,
His well-loved master sought through every clime;
Nor sought in vain, for by a simple rhyme,
A soft tuned sonnet, in a dungeon cold,
Imprisoned here he found him for no crime,
And saved. The ruins past, I now behold
Prague's lofty palaces arise, and turrets old.
The scene is changed by many a lovely vale:
Upon the Elbe my rapid way I went,
Where Nature reigns supreme, nor aught avail
'Gainst her the charms a Raphael's touch can lend
To Art's supremest works; these all depend
On light, on colour, on the master's hand;
Nature's own work, so thought I, as I bend
My steps through Dresden's galleries, and stand
Before Art's fairest deeds in this fair Saxon land!
Swift be my verse, and swifter still my pace
(Oh, pardon me, for I'll be sworn I bore)
By Berlin's quays, past oft a plain, I race
To Hamburg's crowded port, until the roar
Of ocean's wave is heard again once more.
Once more upon the deck I stand and view
Behind that cloud arise old Albion's shore--
Shore that I love, roast beef, plum-pudding too,
Pale ale, the _Times_, and scandal, like a Briton true.
NOTES FOR THE SPORTSMAN OR TOURIST
IN NORTH AFRICA.
The best time to go to Algeria or Tunis is October, when the heats of
summer begin to become cooler. By all means, let the traveller, if he
wish to be independent, travel on horseback. In Algeria he will meet
with accommodation everywhere, and proceed as safely as in London, or
any part of England.
He can go to Boussada or Laghouat, about six days' journey from
Algiers, staying every night at caravanserais _en route_. Boussada I
did not visit myself, but from rumour, I believe, there is excellent
gazelle shooting in the neighbourhood. By the plains of Boussada, the
tourist can pass into Tunisia over the French frontier. At Algiers,
the best hotels are the Hotel d'Orient and the Hotel de la Regence, on
the Grande Place. For ammunition, I recommend Huet, armourer, near the
English Consul's; and for horses--Francois or Francisco, a Maltese,
who speaks French and English. The grand thing to be considered is
economy of space. Let every necessary for clothing, if possible, be
crammed into the saddle-bags attached to one's saddle, as ammunition,
guns, &c. &c., must be placed on the other horses. Well did the
Romans call baggage by the appellation of _impedimenta_. In this
country it is so literally, not figuratively. It is absolutely
necessary to have an interpreter who can talk Arabic; for though in
Algeria there are many natives who jabber broken French or Italian,
even this _lingua Franca_ is so disguised that it is almost impossible
to comprehend them; and in the interior there are very few "indigenes"
who understand anything but Arabic. In Tunisia nothing but Arabic is
of any use whatever.
To travel in the interior of Tunis, it is necessary to have a mounted
escort, and also a letter of recommendation to the "Caids" (mayors) of
the different towns through which you pass. Here you must expect a
great want of comfort, as there are no beds, and you generally have to
sleep on the floor. On the Lake of Tunis, close to the city, there is
very good flamingo shooting. The flamingoes sit on the water in rows
like a regiment, and the method I employed in shooting them was as
follows:--I used to take a boat with my gun loaded with buckshot
(chevrotine), and my rifle. I fired my rifle at the line of flamingoes
when about 400 yards off, which used to bring them flying over the
boat for curiosity, when I managed, generally with my gun, to bring
down one or two. This is, I am sure, the best way of shooting them,
though several Europeans told me at Tunis I could shoot them with the
rifle.
The shortest way direct to Tunis is by Malta; and, in passing, let the
sporting tourist visit Gozo, where, in April and September, there is
excellent quail shooting.
The inhabitants of this isle are a simple, primitive race of people,
very lively and intelligent; they speak nearly a pure Arabic. They
live chiefly by fishing, and also serve as sailors in foreign vessels,
where they remain sometimes entire years without being heard of by
their families. In this way they often find a watery grave; and in the
isle I met some females, whose male relations had all perished in this
way.
Navigation appears to have a great charm for these simple islanders;
and when they sail along these southern waters, where the sun shines
with a brilliant lustre, and the moon with a fairy splendour, they
forget not the simple home where the members of their family are
crouched side by side, enveloped in a sort of bournouse, and drinking
perhaps tea which differs only nominally from the tepid waters of the
surrounding ocean, and gabbling a jargon which one can scarcely
believe that they understand themselves. The charm which binds these
poor people together in their sober and modest existence is less the
_penchant_ of natural and intimate affection, than the chain of habit,
the necessity of a life of fraternal community and sentiment. A
certain equality of position and social development gives them the
same desires, the same ends of existence, and like ideas produce an
easy mutual understanding. Each one reads, as it were, in the eye of
the other; and when they talk, each knows what the other will say
almost before he has opened his lips. All the ordinary relations of
life are thus present to their memory; and so, by a simple intonation
of the voice, by the expression of the visage, by a mute gesture, they
excite, _inter se_, as many smiles or tears, more joy or vexation,
than we, among our equals, could perhaps evoke by the longest
demonstrations or declarations. For we civilised ones live, on an
average, in intellectual solitude; each of us, thanks to our
particular form of mind or education, has received a different bias of
character; each of us, morally weighed, thinks, acts, and believes
differently from his neighbour; and hence misunderstandings arise so
frequently among us, that, even in the largest families, life in
common becomes difficult, and we are often, as it were, apart, utterly
unknown one to another, and everywhere feel ourselves as on strange
territory.
Races, indeed, have lived--aye, for centuries--in a state of community
of ideas and sentiments such as I have described in the Isle of Gozo.
Perhaps, but only perhaps, the Roman Church of the Middle Ages wished
to establish among the nations of Catholic Europe such a state of
equality and uniformity of spirit. Hence, no doubt, the reason why she
took under her guardianship all the social relations, all the force
and manifestations of this life--in fine, man himself, moral and
physical man. I will not deny, nor will any one else, that much
peaceful happiness, much piety has been established by these means;
that human existence in the Middle Ages took an expression of greater
fervour and intimacy; that the arts, like flowers, mysteriously
developed, unfolded then, and showed to the day a beauty we now admire
and deplore, and that the rash and unquiet spirit of modern days
cannot imitate. But mind has its rights from all eternity; mind will
not be fettered by dogmas, or lulled to sleep by the ringing of a
bell; mind has cast aside his swaddling-clothes, and broken the string
by which his nurse (the Roman Church) held him, and, in the madness
and intoxication of his holiday, has rounded the globe, has traversed
all nations, has scaled the Himalayas, and, returning again to Mother
Earth, has begun to meditate over the wonders of creation by day, and
the stars of heaven by night. We know not, indeed, nor ever shall,
perhaps, the number of the stars that shine in the canopy of heaven;
we have not yet unveiled the dread mysteries of earth or of sea.
Enough: many enigmas are resolved; we know much--we guess at still
more. There remains one question unsolved--it is this: Is there more
real felicity in our minds now than there was in ancient times? I will
confess that if we look at the many, now-a-days, we could scarcely
answer this question in the affirmative; yet, it must also be
remembered that happiness, which is in part due to mental tyranny, is
scarcely true happiness, and that in the few moments of real
intellectual dignity some educated man can enjoy more real felicity
than the uneducated coal-heaver during many years of uninquiring
tranquillity.
But while, with a certain benevolence, I was dilating on the
intentions of the Roman Church, I find myself all of a sudden seized
with a zeal worthy of Exeter Hall. So I return to my Gozo friends.
Living among these simple, Christian islanders, of Moorish descent,
one is apt to meditate on the mighty transformations which have swept
over Europe and left them untouched.
The reason I recommend the route _via_ Malta and Tunis, instead of
passing by Algiers, as I did, is the miserable accommodation on board
the steamers between Tunis and Algiers. The passengers on these boats
are chiefly bagmen and colonists of different nations. We had a
Savoyard, a Spaniard, and two or three Frenchmen and Italians at one
table; and the noise, and row, and heat after dinner were very
edifying. Bottles were quickly emptied, and heads as quickly filled.
One of the guests sung songs; another neighed; a third shouted in
tragic verse; a fourth spoke Latin; and a fifth preached temperance; a
sixth gave himself out for a professor, and his lecture was nearly as
follows:--"The earth, my friends, is a cylinder, and men are but
little diminutive dots spread over its surface, apparently at hazard;
but _voila_, the cylinder takes a fancy to turn, the little dots are
hustled about, some here, others there, and so emit a sort of
vibratory sound, some frequently, others more rarely; and this is the
marvellous, complicated music that men call universal history," &c.
&c. A fat-looking German, who kept his nose continually dipped in a
glass of punch, inhaling the steam with a very gratified look,
observed that he felt as though he was in the refreshment saloon of
the Berlin theatre; while the Savoyard kept looking at us through his
glass, as though it were a _lorgnette_, and the red wine streamed down
his purple cheeks into his gaping jaws.
And now to proceed to matters of sport. With regard to small game,
partridges, ducks, quails, rabbits, &c., there is abundance to be
found in Algeria. Near Algiers there is hawking of partridges and hares
among the Arab tribes; and, before the French occupation, falconry was
the especial amusement of the Arab aristocracy. For shooting of small
game I would more especially recommend a caravanserai called Oued el
Massin, about half way between Milianah and Teniet. Partridges and
woodcock abound there; the quarters, moreover, are remarkably good,
and the _cuisine_, superintended by my friend, Mr. Ball, is by no means
despicable. From Oued el Massin, a day's journey beyond Milianah, I
am convinced excellent shooting may be obtained with a couple of good
pointers. Quails are also very numerous. Aquatic birds abound in
Algeria, more especially on the lake Fetzara, near Bona, in the
province of Constantine. Nothing is more beautiful than the lake
Fetzara at sunrise; on its banks are a thousand plants and flowers
of every colour and hue, and on its waters repose birds of every
description and plumage. As yet it is dusk; everything animal and
vegetable is in repose; but with the first ray of the sun come sounds
and cries of every imaginable description, and thousands, aye,
myriads, of birds are everywhere on the wing. In the impetuosity of
their flight, they shake, as it were, the plants and flowers on the
border of the lake, who thus pay their morning salute to the sun of
Africa. A small barque, however, advances (_vide_ picture), and from
this frail skiff suddenly appears the flash of a gun. In a moment the
whole air is in motion; grebes with their beautiful plumage,
flamingoes with flaming wings, wild swans, and ducks, and teals, by
thousands whirl through the air.
Is it really to be believed that Nature has affixed (so to speak) some
danger to everything charming? One is almost tempted to say so, after
examining the enchanting borders of this lake, whose azure waters flow
from the mountainous frontier of Tunisia to the opulent plains of
Bona. You botanists, who are attracted by the singular colour or
strange beauty of some plant or flower here, beware how you approach.
Under this magnificent vegetation a trap--a mortal trap--is laid: the
banks are of quick-sand! One step, and you meet death--a horrible
death. The earth gives way, and you disappear without a trace, for
those delicious flowers and plants close up their ranks again, like
immortelles over your sepulchre. Listen:--A French cavalry officer
came from Bona to shoot flamingoes on this lake. He was accompanied by
his servant, also on horseback. He shot a flamingo, who tumbled just
on the border of the lake, and dispatched his servant to fetch the
bird. At three or four yards from the bird, the soldier disappeared
with his horse; and some Arabs, coming up, at the cries of the officer
(for the Mussulman believes that the genius of the lake, propitious to
Mahometans, devours the profane European), with difficulty saved his
servant. As soon as the soldier was out of danger, he cried out, with
all the gasconade of a Frenchman, "_Je ne laisserai pas la ce maudit
oiseau, cause de ma mesaventure!_" In spite of the energetic
dissuasions of the natives, whom, by the way, he could not understand,
he advanced on foot; but the earth opened again--he disappeared. One
moment his head remained above this liquid ground, one moment he cried
for aid, and the abyss had swallowed its prey. However, at certain
points, this lake is quite approachable; and, there being several
barques, excellent sport may be had. I would, however, recommend
sportsmen to procure a letter of introduction to some neighbouring
grandee. There is an excellent caravanserai close by, at Ain Mokra.
For gazelles one must go quite into the interior of the desert--to
Boussada and Laghouat--in the great Sahara desert. Ghazella is, in
the Arab language, the synonym for beauty and velocity.
Those persons who really desire sport, however, I would recommend to
travel from Algiers to Tunisia by land, and, if possible, let them
pass by Kef, which is the frontier town. In the vicinity of this town
there are, no doubt, plenty of lions; and my friend (who visited it
with Dr. Davies, the celebrated explorer and excavator at Carthage)
heard of several there, though his stay was so short that he did not
succeed in bagging one. For lion-hunting, as for many other things,
"_il faut bien de la patience_." Thus it very frequently happens that
a man may search without success for months and months for the
whereabouts of a lion, and then, suddenly, when your hunter is least
prepared for it, and perhaps unarmed, the monarch of the desert will
present himself to his astonished gaze. Notwithstanding the formidable
character attributed to the lion, he will rarely attack any man unless
previously molested. There are three sorts of lions in North
Africa--the black, the tawny, and the grey, though the latter is by
some supposed to be the same genus as the tawny, only grizzled by age.
There are two ways of hunting the lion, by day and by night. That by
day is by battue, when a whole tribe turns out to "beard the lion in
his den" and make him break cover. Those who are well armed are posted
at the outlets of the cover or beaten tracks by which the lion
generally passes; any Europeans who assist are usually so stationed;
they, however, need have but little fear, for the monarch almost
always attacks the _tawny_ native by preference. Is it from sympathy
of colour, _similia similibus gaudent_, or from a sort of instinct
that the European is better armed, or because he supposes the Arab
will make a better repast? The other way of killing the lion is in
ambuscade, of which there are two or three kinds. Sometimes the
hunters dig a hole in the ground near the spot where the lion is in
the habit of passing by night; over this hole they throw branches of
trees, which they cover with stones and mortar; they then place some
bait near, which can be commanded through holes made in the covering,
and when the lion approaches to examine the carcase, he is immediately
brought down. Another way of shooting is from a tree. My friend, Count
Zamoyski, who has a residence at the Lake Fetzara, shot several in
this way. I will, however, refer the reader to Jules Gerard's book for
a description of this kind of sport. I did not stay long enough in
North Africa to be able to judge of it myself. What I recount now with
regard to lion hunting is from hearsay, not from personal experience.
The panther is a more dangerous animal than the lion, and much more
cunning. Like his relative, the cat, he is very difficult to kill, and
it must be a well-directed ball through the head or heart that will
prevent him from avenging his wound. For the rest, he is hunted much
as the lion. I will not mention the jackal and hyena, both of which
animals can be shot after dusk from the tent or hut, by throwing out
some carcase or bait before sunset to attract them. Let us pass to
that animal which, in my opinion, of all creatures presents by far the
best sport on the coast of Barbary--I mean, of course, the wild boar,
or halouf, as he is called in the Arabic language.
I had long had a desire to hunt the halouf. On my arrival at the
Caid's house at Solyman (about twenty miles from Tunis), an old Arab
named Mahmoud was sent for, who was reported to be, like Nimrod, a
mighty hunter before the Lord and before the tribes.
The next day we started before sunrise to the river, where the boar
was supposed to be.
_En route_ I questioned my Arab by interpreter. "The halouf," he
replied, "when wounded, is as dangerous as the lion. I have," he
continued, "myself seen a boar repulse the attack of a young lion."
Of boars there are no doubt plenty in Tunisia. They are fond of lying
in the thickest brushwood, what the French call _broussailles_, and
the main difficulty is to drive them out. It requires some one
perfectly conversant with Arabic, and having some authority over the
natives, to make them beat properly; otherwise, in a short time they
will give over, and pretend that there is nothing there. The best
localities for boar are near Solyman, in Tunisia, and Biserta, about
fifty miles from Tunis. As for Algeria, the country is now so much
frequented by Europeans of all nations, who frighten, if they do not
kill, the game, that one has to go a long way into the interior before
any sport can be met with.
The French talk a great deal about "_la chasseaux pantheres_" and "_la
chasse aux lions_," &c. &c.; but, in my humble opinion, their forte is
"_la chasse aux dames_" or, in plain Saxon English, the success of the
"_salon_." Let me conclude with a few words regarding regimen. In this
burning climate, above all things observe temperance. I do not mean by
that expression that you must be a teetotaller, but the more you can
abstain from heating liquids or solids, the better. The other extreme,
too, is bad; too much lemonade, or water, or sherbet, is apt to
produce diarrhoea. Nature seems to have indicated to the Arabs the
best beverage in this zone, both to quench thirst and to preserve
health, viz., coffee; but as on a march or out shooting you cannot
always stop to have a fire lit, the next best drink is a little weak
brandy and water, which you should carry from where you start in the
morning, as the water of the rivers is pestiferous. To avoid fever or
malaria, I would always take a small quantity of bark of quinine.
During the time I was in Africa I enjoyed most excellent health, as I
believe everybody may who takes the commonest precautions, and does
not indulge, as he may with impunity in more northern climes.
Finally, let me give one piece of advice to the sportsman. If he
comes to these countries with the expectation that he can, as in
England, go out with his gun of a morning and return with his bag full
in the evening to a capital dinner, he had better stay at home. To do
anything in this country, a man must make his mind up to long and
fatiguing marches in the heat of the day, with miserable quarters
often at night, in places infested by vermin of every description; in
a word, he must be content to rough it. I will also candidly own that,
from the accounts I had previously received, I was very much
disappointed as regards the quantity of large game to be found in
these parts; still, I was, to a certain extent, indemnified for this
by the pleasure of visiting a beautiful country, a remarkable people,
and magnificent scenery, the entire appearance of which is utterly
unlike what one is accustomed to see in the hackneyed countries of
modern continental Europe.
ITINERARY CARTE.
ROUTE--from London to Marseilles, about forty-eight hours. Marseilles,
Hotel d'Orient.
Marseilles to Algiers, average passage, three days. Hotels--Hotel de
la Regence and Hotel de Paris, both good.
Algiers to Blidah--horse or diligence--about five hours; Blidah to
Medeah--horse or diligence--about eight hours; Blidah to Milianah,
about fourteen hours. Blidah--Hotel de la Regence; Medeah--Hotel du
Gastronome; Milianah--Hotel d'Iffly.
Milianah to Teniet, two days, staying at Oued el Massin, caravanserai;
Teniet to Boghar, two days; Boghar to Laghouat, extremity of French
frontier in Great Sahara Desert, three days.
From there visit Boussada for Gargelles, thence to Constantine, five
days; Constantine to Lake Fetzara and Bona, one day. Bona--Hotel de
France.
Another way, is to return to Algiers and proceed by sea to Bona,
passing Boujie, and Djidjelli, and Philippeville, about forty-eight
hours.
From Bona to Tunis, by sea, about eighteen hours; or by land, _via_
Keff, the frontier town of Tunisia and Algeria, about six days; an
escort required. Tunis--Hotel de France.
Tunis to Solyman, four hours; Tunis to Biserta, fourteen hours.
On horseback, take two flannel shirts, one change of boots, and
bournouse, &c. Average expense per diem, with horse and servant,
twenty-five francs. I had three horses and one interpreter, and my
expenses averaged L1 10s. _par jour_.
THE END.
PETTER AND GALPIN, BELLE SAUVAGE PRINTING WORKS, LUDGATE HILL, E.C.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Illustrations have been moved closer to their relevant paragraphs.
The page numbers in the List of Illustrations do not reflect the new
placement of the illustrations, but are as in the original.
Author's archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation is
preserved.
Author's punctuation style is preserved.
Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_.
Passages in bold indicated by =equal signs=.
Typographical problems have been changed and are listed below.
Transcriber's Changes:
Page 5: Original Table of Contents lists Chapter III as page 17.
Page 8: Was 'unhapy' (his cutting sarcasm, and the =unhappy=
frivolity which defaces the works of the man)
Page 30: Was 'Kadir' (FURTHER EXPERIENCES:--Abd-el-=Kader= (but not
the Emir)--Difficult Road)
Page 33: Was 'twent' (The Arab had fired at the brute at =twenty=
paces, but missed his aim.)
Page 85: Was 'mattrass' (and the =mattress=--fancy now!--is stuffed
with sticks, and is so cursedly hard)