Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 97, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 April 1914 — Page 3

The CHARM of BISKRA

by ISABEL CLARK

r. was by way of Philippevllle, one of the brightest of the smaller Algerian ports, that I journeyed to Biskra, and passed through, for jthe first ’time, the beautiful landscape of the North African Tell. It Was in December,' but- ' there was little to suggest winter in the scene that met my eyes. The tracts of forest, filled with cork, ilex fd olive trees and thick bushes of butus, were colored tenderly in shades of softest green and gray, and the endless orchards, of orange and

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tfltron trees were hung with bright fruits. Great blue stars of convolvulus decorated the hedgerows and twined over the porches of the little French homesteads. Overhead, the sky Was of cloudless sapphire and the mountains were sharply etched against it It was only when I passed the wide vineyards, empty except for the •tunted brown stems, that I could realize it was December. Beyond Constantine, upon the high plateaus that make a well-defined ridge between the green and fertile strip of the plains and the •ndless waste of desert to the south, an' arid, rocky land presents itself. -Scant and, grudging Is the pasturage offered to the flocks that move ceaselessly across the hills. Thin and meager are the crops grown upon that land so patiently plowed. Here and there a chott, or salt lake, clear as crystal, gleamed like a shield of polished steel, reflecting every detail of the mountains with faithful exactitude. Here, too, may be seen the green, scrublike growth of the alfa grass, so much exported to England, where it is used in the production of highly glazed paper. So far it has resisted all the efforts that have been made to cultivate it. Early in the afternoon the train dipped down suddenly into the oasis of El Kantara, known to the Arabs aB Foum-el-Sahara—the Mouth of the Sahara. It is a place of palm trees and orange groves, watered by sweet springs, and possessing strange old Roman tombs and delicate fragments of Roman architecture. But the great

marvel of El Kantara lies in that deep and narrow gorge where the huge violet sides of Ojebl MetHli, riven asunder as if by the mighty stroke of an ax, disclose that abrupt and wonderful entrance into the Sahara. At its narrowest the rent is about 40 yards wide and the length is 300 yards. Prom the verdant and palm-clad beauty of the oasis the traveler gazes through that rent torn in the high rocks, and sees before him the illimitable white expanse

of desert, silver pale and shining as If encrusted with gems. A little wind came up from the south, blowing the fine white sand into my face, reminding me of the desolate solitudes that lay beyond, the endless empty sands dipping far southward. Groves of date patina .grew close to the river bank, and hedges of wild oleander still showed a few belated blossoms of fragile pink. It la thus almost dramatically that one enters the desert from the stony alfa-strewn ways of the high plateaus. No longer needed now were the fur coats and fOot-warmers that had been so necessary at the hour of our early departure from Constantine. We seemed to have passed suddenly into a sub-tropical land quivering in the burning sunlight. It is the fashion to say of Biskra that she has been spoilt since “The Garden of Allah” awakened the world to her hidden beauty, made her popular to the hordes of Cook’s tourists and gave a fresh impetus to the loafing profession of guide, which the Arab is always only too ready to adopt He is, indeed, somewhat more of a pest than ho used to be; he knows that hd has been written about and perhaps presented in too flattering an aspect, and it has made him conceited and self-conscious. But he is really no worse at Biskra than he is in • Tunis. Immense and luxurious hotels have sprung up to supersede the simpler caravanserais of former days,, when the little town was a favorite but quite unfashionable resort of French people in search of simplicity and sunshine. But lam inclined to think that Biskra is unspoilable. ‘The Heart of the Desert,” as the Arabs affectionately call her, she was the Ad Piscinam of the Romans, and the famous Third Legion sojourned in that wonderful and fertile oasis which can now be reached on the fifth day after leaving London.' “Two things are necessary,” says Stevenson, “in any neighborhood where we propose to spend a life—a desert and running water.” Biskra* possesses these essentials In abundance, and she has the' additional advantage of constant, almost perpetual, sunshine. Her palm and olive and orange groves are watered by springs that have never failed. Close to her —so close, indeed, that she almost seems to mock at its parched infertility—lies the white splendor of the desert with its pallor aB of a calm sea faintly touched with blue haze. The moonlight-colored city with Us blanched streets lies surrounded by a fringe of perpetual verdure. Watch the dawn waking lris-hued in the eastern Bky, painting the Aures mountains to a deeper rose and drawing a filmy amber veil across the sands, and I think you will agree with me that Biskra is unspoilable. * There are many simple sights that cannot fail to Interest the unaccustomed visitor from the North, on account of their novelty. The Arab school, with the bright>eyed, inattentive little tun baned or befezzed scholars, listlessly reciting verses from the Koran, under the aegis of the tolba, or schoolmaster; the market-place, teeming with native vendors, story-tellers and sand diviners; ‘ the groups of picturesque Arabs wrapped in their white burnouses or shabby gray haicks; the caravans arriving almost daUy from the south with their loads of dates; the swaying palanquins within which the women travel on the camels' backs, hidden and mysterious; the fine garden of Count Landon, with its lovely tropical trees and flowers; the village of Old sickra, with its clay-built huts swarming with dark-eyed children—these are but a few of the picturesque, quaint or beautiful tilings that offers to the visitor. The nomad camps, too, are a source of Interest with their tents of camel-hair doth, awarded often to » white Kabyle dog. The nomad

certainly gives a very practical example of the simple life, for his needs are re- ’ \SKJJ duced to a minimum. Food, shelter and clothing of the rudest kind are all that he requires as he wanders from desert to \ tell with his flocks. Like the bishop of Browning’s poem, he seems only to ask that "That hutch should rustle with sufficient wtraw,” but he is nevertheless said to suffer greatly from rheumatism caused by incessant exposure to all weathers, and also from ophthalmia, which Is a real scourge among the natives of Algeria, and results all too frequently In complete blindness. About a week or ten days before Christmas the “courses indigenes,” or native race meeting, takes place at Biskra. This meeting is, of course, much less popular than the fashionable one which is held in the spring, but a good number of French people alwayß attend it. There is a superstition in Biskra that this particular week is always the windiest in the year, and certainly, on the solitary occasion of which I have had experience, the reputation was justified. Even in the shelter of the stand we were thickly powdered with fine white sand that was blown In upon us by the high, strong wind. We drove out to the course In one of the shaky littlo carriages drawn by two swift pontes, which can be hired so cheaply in the town. The Hippodrome d*El Alia was thronged with people, French for the most part, with a sprinkling of English and Germans, and some native Kaids gorgeously appareled. The first part, “Courses du Mlnistere de la guerre,” consisted only of two events, the distance in each case being 1,500 meters. In the second part, "Courses de la Commune Indigene,” there were three events, and the longest distance run was 2,400 meters, this race being open to horses of all ages. The horses bore such names as Boucoucba, Lamari, Salah and Mabrouk, while the jockeys figure op the program under such, nomenclature as Messaoud-den-Chebha, Belgacem-ben-Mohamed and so forth. The course is of hard, white sand, upon which the flying hoofs beat with a noise like thunder. The streaming burnouses of the Arab Jockeys—red and white and blue of all shades —made patches of brilliant color- There were no rows of raucous-voiced bookmakers shouting the odds; but as the Arabs are Inveterate gamblero, no doubt a good deal of quiet betting' went on. *Among the spectators were many French officers, wearing the pale blue tunic *of the famous Chasseurs d’Afrique. Most of them were combining business with pleasure, for the Arabs from all p&rtß of the desert bring their best horses to compete in the races, and these are frequently bought for the remount department of the African cavalry. Every effort to being made by the French government to enoourage horsebreeding among the Arabs. Close to the grand stand some of the ha'em carriages, with their shuttered windows, couid be seen wherein the Arab ladies* of quality were sitting, concealed, catching imperfect glimpses of the races and also of what probably Interested them far more —the toilettes of the French worn-' en. A group of Spabis, in their bright red burnouses and high red boots, added to the picturesqueness of the gay scene. When the races were over we were invited to mount up into the judge’s box to witness the fantasia. TJiis was a thrilling and rather dramatic finale to the day's proceedings. The men of each goum, or tribe, rode past, heeded by their kaid, or chief. g&Uoplrf in rapid suc-

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INP.

cession down that hard, white course, waving their swords and firing their guns as they yrent The very smell- of powder never fails to fill the Arab with maddest excitement, and the fantasia had ajl the appearance of a fierce, cavalry charge. I retained an impression, vivid if fugitive, of kaleidoscopic color? passing swiftly by, blurred by the blue mist of the smoke mingling with the thick, white desert dust The noise of the firing, of the beating hoofs and of the wild cheering of the multitude'of spectators, the sight of the manycolored burnouses and the bronze faces under their white turbans, left a confused sense upon my mind as* of something strange and fantastic, almost unreal. Driving home, we saw the sun setting behind the groves of palms in a sky that was colored like a pomegranate blossom, with a glow that turned the very sands to flame. Djebl AhmarKraddou, tallest peak of the Aures mountains, caught .the reflection of it and shone as with rosecolored fire. The palm fronds were softly stenciled against the sky. Then the swift, sudden twilight of the South drew its delicate purple veil over the scene.' Strange music stole out of the silences, the faint flute notes, liquid and tender, of the gazbah, the dull throbbing of tom-tom and derbouka. The jmoon rose over the white city of the desert and, touched by its matchless radiance, the streets looked as if they had been wrought of gleaming marble; the cold indigo shadows flung by the houses were sharply defined. And surely nowhere in the world can one see a wider expanse of sky, filled from end to end with, clusters of golden stars, than that which hangs its canopy, velvet-soft, above the Heart of the Desert. —-

Mother —Now, Willie, put away those drum* sticks. Don’t you know, your father has a head* ache? Willie —But, ma, when I was going into the pal*' lor with my drum he told me to beat it”—Boston Evening Transcript. % --—ii* ■ ■' ■■ . i ■ ■ i

DOING HER BEST.

“Does your wife run to meet you when yon come home in the gloaming?" “Well, her gown is a trifle tight for running. She hobbles toward me as rapidly as she can.”

THE LONGER THE BETTER.

“I took a long walk yesterday," said Boreman as he collapsed into a seat at Busyman's desk “Take another, old man,” suggested Busyman; “It’ll do us both good.”—Puck.

WHICH IS UNGENEROUS.

BIX-I Always keep my trouble to myself. Dlx—Quite right, too! When you tell them yon are taking np the time of the man whe I* uniting to tell yon V*

SLANGY PA.

FABLES FOR THE FAIR

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THE WOMAN WHO WAS NOT ATHLETIC There was once a Woman who wore High-heeled Shoes and a Tight Corset. Both These are Highly Injurious and Inartistic to the Last Degree. One Day she Went out to the Links with a Sensible Friend who wore a Sweater and Man-fashioned Shoes. There they Met two Men playing Golf. “I Fear I shall only Be in your Way,” said the Woman who was Not Athletic. “I Cannot Play-the Game at all. Ido Not Know a Caddy from a Bunker, nor a Foursome from a Tee.” - “Not at all. I will Describe the Game to You,” said the Men. “Oh, Thank you, Uut One will be Quite Enough,” she replied, and she Selected the Best-looking and the Other Went out after the Sensible Friend. “May I Carry your Parasol ?” said he when they had Started. “If you will Be so Good,” she answered. “It is very Foolish, I know, but itxy Skin is so Absurdly Thin, and the Sun Blisters it so.” The Sensible Friend came up just Behind, and Mopping her Face, she said, “You are too Ridiculous. A Rose-colored Parasol on the Links f

SHE WENT TO THE LINKS WITH A SENSIBLE FRIEND WHO WORE A SWEATER AND MAN-FASHIONED SHOES.

You are Keeping Him from Playing, too. He will get Practice.” “Oh, I hope Not,” said the Woman who was Not Athlmc. “Do not be Alarmed,” said the Man, “It is All right.” y “Moreover, I Saw him Help you Over a Fence,” said the Sensible Friend, as she Waded through a Muddy Brook. The Woman who was Not Athletic looked Pensively and for Some Time at the Man. “I am Spoiling Everything,” she said softly. “Let me Go Home, and then You can Play.” “But then You could NoTLearn the Game,” said he, Sitting down under a Kind of Artificial Watershed and Watching the Bose-colored Reflection of her Parasol. “Is this a Bunker ?” she asked. “Yes,” he replied; “Its Purpose is to shield People Who wish to be Alone from Observation.” “Oh!” said she. “Then over That Wall Behind that Big Rock is one of the Best Bunkers on the Links, isn’t it ?” ' “It is, -indeed,” he replied. “Yon Pick Up the Game very Rapidly. Come over There, and I will Explain it Further to You.” -t “You are So Good,” she said, as he Lifted her Over the Wall. Some* Time Afterward the Sensible Friend, who was Engaged in Wallowing Through some Underbrush and Falling into a Pond in Search of her Ball, Passed by Them on the Return Course, and seeing than Seated against the Wall, noted their somewhat Unoriginal Attitudes. She was Surprised. f *; This teaches us that You need Not Teach an Old Dog Nefir Tricks.

THE WOMAN WHO COULD NOT SEW

There’ was once a Woman who was So extraordinarily Clever as to be able to Persuade a Man that Bhe was Beautiful. But she was not Domestic. She wrote Fascinating Letters which made the Man Believe ' that to Have Any One like That in the House he would Willingly Hire a Housekeeper. But he / was Set in his Ways, which was One of the Reasons why she Liked him So much. One Day he stole up Behind Her as she

SAW A LARGE HOLE IN HER STOCKING.

sat Composing a Fascinating Letter to him, and saw a Large Hole in her Stocking. "I am Afraid this will Not Do,” he said, and Broke the Engagement. Afterward the Woman Attended Classes in Domestic Science, including Sewing, but her Efforts were Unavailing. ' " This teaches us that it is Sometimes too Late to Mend.

Must Be Left Untouched.

The "Treasure of the Lowly” la the supreme undiscovered treasure, that Is why Maeterlinck write# of It with a golden pen. Bring the jewel Into the market, let the lapidary take It from Its mysterious matrix and cot it with his remorseless tools, fit It Into a king’s crown, a lady’s rinp or the eorer of a sliver box and somehow

BY JOSEPHINE DODGE DASKAM

the wonder vanishes. The crowd may stare, but no one goes into, raptures any more—lndian Messenger.

Buried, but Not Lost.

It is a good thing to bury the hatchet, but the trouble with this pastime te that somebody always puts a marker at the place to show where the implement is.—Chester Times.