‘Nature was hush’d, as if her works adored,Still’d by the presence of her living Lord.’
‘Nature was hush’d, as if her works adored,Still’d by the presence of her living Lord.’
‘Nature was hush’d, as if her works adored,Still’d by the presence of her living Lord.’
‘Nature was hush’d, as if her works adored,
Still’d by the presence of her living Lord.’
The sultry heat of the day had now ceased, and a cool northerly breeze gently waved the branches of the stately palm-trees. The darkness gradually vanished before the bright rays of the moon, whose silvery light streamed through the forest; and in a few minutes, she rode high above the loftiest of its countless trees, and by her splendour and brilliancy so illuminated every object around, that day appeared again perfectly restored. And the stars, too,—
‘Those quenchless stars! so eloquently bright.Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,’—
‘Those quenchless stars! so eloquently bright.Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,’—
‘Those quenchless stars! so eloquently bright.Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,’—
‘Those quenchless stars! so eloquently bright.
Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,’—
vied with each other in lustre, to contribute to the magnificence of this majestic scene,—to add dazzling refulgence to the prodigious theatre exhibited for the admiration of wondering man!
“Here we have our white canvass city, and, a little beyond it, the sombre buildings of Tozar. Here again is the thick forest of graceful palms, with their clusters of ‘fruits of gold,’ pendant beneath their feathery branches. The rippling brook flows on in its eccentric course, bearing on its surface the reflection of the host of stars in the firmament. All nature—animate and inanimate—as far as my vision could embrace, not only declared the omnipotence and benevolence of the great Eternal, but seemed to proclaim universal peace and safety,—
‘’Twas a fair scene,—a land more brightNever did mortal eye behold!’
‘’Twas a fair scene,—a land more brightNever did mortal eye behold!’
‘’Twas a fair scene,—a land more brightNever did mortal eye behold!’
‘’Twas a fair scene,—a land more bright
Never did mortal eye behold!’
“The only sound audible, besides that of the sentries, and the rippling stream close by, was the voice of adervishor saint, who was entertaining the inmates of a tent, pitched a short distance from mine, with some extraordinary Mecca legends. I was on the point of re-entering my tent, when one of the party, attracted by the scene without, called upon his companions to behold the wonderful works of God. All obeyed; and my thin texture partition enabled me to listen to their repeated exclamations ofAllah Kabeer, ‘God is great!’ Thus the Moslem, like the Christian, was led, from a survey of the stupendous works of nature, to contemplate nature’s omnipotent God.”
We need not follow the steps of the expedition as it slowly retraced its path northwards through the Desert, from oasis to oasis, till it fairly reentered the region of verdure and perennial waters. Nor can we stay, even in passing, to tell of the many French deserters who have sought refuge among the tribes and towns of the Sahara, nor of their strange adventures, nor of the hardship and death which in so many cases has overtaken them. We merely reconduct Mr Davis, with a velocity unknown to desert-travelling, back to Tunis, and there leave him. His book is a very creditable performance,—though one-half of it might have been as well written (and perhaps was so) in comfortable lodgings in London as in “My Tent” in the Balad Ejjareed. It is not a book of personal adventure. The author is a reverend gentleman, who has no ambition to rival the feats of Gordon Cumming among the lions and hippopotamuses of the African wastes; still less is he inclined to become a “free lance” in the ranks of General Pelissier’sZouaves, and spin us thrilling tales of hairbreadth escapes, such as have lately issued from the press of Germany. But he has been a considerable time—six years—in Northern Africa, and has made himself well acquainted with the language and customs of its people,—upon which subjects we know of no writer in whom we would place more confidence. He is also well acquainted with the works of adventure and travel already published on this part of the world, and of which he very properly makes use to lend additional value or interest to his own. Indeed we think we have recognised several anecdotes in his book which we have already quoted in our pages, when reviewing the foreign works in which they originally appeared. Hence theseEvenings in my Tentdo not contain so much fresh matter as we anticipated; yet the substance of their pages is, on the whole, both good and readable—if we except the antiquated chapter on the Slave-trade, and a few passages where the author’s clerical habits incline him to sermonise rather more than may suit the tastes of his lay readers.