Railway. Biskra has not inappropriately been termed "The Pearl of the Sahara," for in truth it combines much that would tend to make almost any place attractive. Its oasis extends over a linear expanse of nearly five miles, and in its area is crowded a forest of upward of a quarter of a million of date palms, in whose shade a multitude of trees and plants of the European flora find a congenial home. Biskra also has its true gardens, which have grown up under Trench rule and domination, and in some of these the rustic chair and table are by no means an unpleasant association. If the truth has to be told, the heart of Biskra might just as well be a town in the interior of Trance as part of an African oasis. One can not, to be sure, overlook the large number of Arabs and Ethiopians who congregate everywhere in troops or marching lines, or lounge in indifferent attitudes before their not wholly lordly manors—some shouting, some bargaining, and all, with the exception of the women, practically indifferent to the presence of the stranger; but with these products of the African soil rise up the outliers of European civilization—the hotels, the cafés, and a number of by no means unstately mansions which constitute the home of the foreign contingent of the population. The Hôtels du Sahara, de 1'Oasis, and Victoria would do credit to far more important places than this, and while, perhaps, the accommodations and comforts served by them have in a measure been Africanized, they yet provide to the traveler all that is needed by way of relaxation and sustenance.
We put up at the Hôtel du Sahara, where we found a charming hostess in the person of Madame Chabert. Under the amiable method of this lady, supported by the plaisir of her two daughters, we were not long in reaching the conclusion that even a summer day in the African desert can not only be made bearable but decidedly enjoyable. Our arrival in the evening did not permit us to clearly make out the exact nature of our surroundings, but sufficient was visible to indicate that in our entertainment we should be obliged to conform in part to entirely new and interesting situations. The dining room was constituted by the tunnel which opened into the street in front and the court in the rear, and its continuation was the open air-space beyond. Our part of the meal was served under the waving tufts of the date palm overhead, and it was a no mean luxury to be fed in good, old-fashioned French style in this al fresco corner of the garden. The thermometer at this time, about eight o'clock, covered the better part of its range of 100°, and thus, while still sufficiently high, it had already lost about sixteen degrees of its column. A steaming heat this, but nevertheless, and despite the fatigue of the day's journey, it did not feel particularly oppressive. The two delicacies that were served to us were the grape of
