Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 January 1912 — IN THE LAND OF LOTUS-EATERS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

IN THE LAND OF LOTUS-EATERS

M Tla not 80 many years ago ■ —that tourists did not find much inducement to make a prolonged stay in the* French Protectorate KgSw 7 of Tunisia, the new fangrw led name for that ancient V"v promontory of North Asm&U, rica, which* once*; knew the glory of Carthage and - of Rome, its chief city

now being “Tunis the * White,” so white thßt U iR called “The Burnous of the Prophet;” for a new Carthage, Another Gibraltar, was in process of formation at Bizerta, oh the very site ■-of jmi ancient Phoenician colony, where Agathocles built a harbor twen-ty-two centuries before the • French, seizing Tunis with a high hand, set to work to transform It into a great naval station. Strangers—and in those pre-Edwardian days English strangers especially—were not welcome at Bizerta; but the old order has changed, giving place to new. . < > ; fHuch that was picturesque, at Bizerta, at Tunis, and elsewhere, has been wiped out; towns have been girded with neat French streets and wide ' boulevards —wherever the Frenchman goes be paves and plants a boulevard —the land has been cohered with a network of railways. The same energy and skill that have made Algiers and its charming suburb of Mustapha a favorite winter resort of Europeans have been displayed at Tunis. The Protectorate is fast taking its place as one Of the winter haunts of those fortunates who can fly southward with the swallows. _ < Having, caught the last glimpse of Notre Dame, de la Garde at Marseilles and bid farewell to Europe, the steamer takes these lucky mortals straight across the Mediterranean to the Al- ■ gerianport of Bone and thence in two easterly' loops along the coast of Bi»ert»*and Goletta. Housed at Tunis or .Marsa, and having performed the first duty—a visit to the site of Carthage—they can turn their attention to a series of wonderful excursions, each ®ne of which will be a fresh revelation of that eternal subject befitting an Eternal City—the power and might of the Roman empire. The winter resident will realise in North Africa better than anywhere else, and in Tunisia better than any where else in North , Africa, that the Mediterranean was a Roman lake, and if he is a widely read ■ and widely traveled man he will agree, on the whole, with the opinion expressed in the guide book that “no country in the world, with the exception of Italy, is more remarkable for . its memorable events and movements than Tunisia," and that “of all'the periods of Tunisian history the Roman occupation was the One which has left .its greatest-mark In the country." There Is no more impressive Roman mark than the ROman aqueduct. Italy, Spain, Southern France,- and Northern Africa are stamped with this symbol of power and civilization—the long line of gigantic arches running straight across country, brlnging'from far-off springs, over valley and plain, the cool mountain stream into the heart of the parched city. The aqueduct and the bath were the first “installation” of a conquering ’Roman army after the Roman road and the Roman camp had done their work. Bo It was in Tunisia. The first thing the traveler sees is the great aqueduct which, by underground canals or

uplifted on hundreds of magnificent arches, delivered six million gallons of water a day from the rocky heights of Zaghouan, far away in the south, into Roman Carthage. The Vandal and the Spaniard helped to destroy this great work, but there—indestructible as Rome Itself —still'stand hundreds of its arches crossing the Valley of the Melian. At the first sight of them one word'rises to the lips—“ Rome!” The line of the great aqueduct points in the direction of the charming little town of Zaghouan, about forty miles from Tunis, the starting place of the aqueduct, “a pleasant spot, embossed in orange and fig trees, a wilderness of cactus, myrtle, rose laurel, and arbutus, with a tall palm here and there lifting its head into the clear sky.” Zoghouah now boasts its “Hotel de France,” amf* is ‘ becoming a favorite resort of winter visitors from all parts of Europe, bidding fair to be, on a smaller scale, fcr Tunis what Biskra is for Algiers. The chief charm .pf Zaghouan lies in its Nymphaeum, a Roman semicircular colonnade and water temple, which once held the statue of the pro l tectlng divinity of the spring. The Nymphaeum, the spring head of the water supply of Carthage, is one of the most beautiful of the Roman remains of Tunisia, as charming in architectural design as it is in its conception.' What more fitting than a sacred shrine at the fountain and origin of so beneflclent a work? Towering above the desolate dwelling of the Water nymph is the vast peak of Ras-el-Ka'sa. It takes four, hours to ascend its 4,000 feet of height, but when you’ stand on the summit you can see more than a half of the whole territory of Tunisia. Once settled in winter quarters in Tunis, the visitor has a bewildering choice of excursions. One of the most enjoyable is that by.Tteamer southward, along the coast of the GUlf of Syrtis, touching at Shfsa, where one can land and take the rail to the Holy

City of Kerouan. After Susa, the ruins of.JThapsus are passed, where Julius Caesar smashed the power of the Pompeian party; then the steamer calls in at Mahedla, where Hannibal took ship after his flight from Carthage, now a pretty little town with modern Improvements and the inevitable “Hotel de France.” Thence to Sfax, a much bombarded town, which put up a fair fight against the French in 1881; and so to Gabes, a place of Greeks and Jews, surrounded by oases and villages of Arab tentdwellers. Gabes is an oasis of gar-, dens and date palms, entwined by clinging vines. One can wander at will among orange, citron, almond, fig, and pomegranate treds, amid which run gurgling little waterways. From Gabes the southward journey caff be continued to Djerba—the Island of the Lotus-Eaters —of whom Homer sang lnthat “Romance es the Youth of the World," the Odyssey:— Now whosoever did eat the honeysweet fruit-of the Lotus had no more. wish to bring,tidings, nor 'to cbme back,, but there he chose to-abide with the lotus-eating men, ever feeding on the lotus and forgetful of his homeward way.” What was it, this lotus fruit, the fruit of forgetfulness? Commentators have covered reams of paper with theory and conjecture. But this is what Sir Lambert Playfair says: “It seems unnecessary to go out of one’s way to searbh for the Homeric food. The island is covered with it. No greater blessing was ever bestowed by Providence on man, and no other fruit is so all-sufficient tat human sustenance as the honey-sweet lotus of the ancients—the date of the modern Arab.” Djerba Is fertile and beautiful; the inhabitants are gentle and quiet; and growing on the island are one millions three hundred thousand date palms. Let the winter resident or the casual tourist beware, therefore, how he lands on the Isle of the Lotus-Eaters lest be forget the homeward way!