of its rings of wood, so might it be possible—if any inquiring physiologist cared to undertake the experiment—to discover approximately the age of an Algerian Arab by ascertaining in how many layers of worn out burnous he is enveloped. This, however, is probably a libel. Certain it is that in the little brooks of the Sahel there may sometimes be seen an Arab who has divested himself of his wardrobe, has spread it out upon the pebbly bed of the stream, and is cleansing it by a sedate and solemn process of walking back and forth over its surface.

A favorite halting place for the camel convoys is the Champ de Manoeuvres, a wide open space in the lower suburb of Mustapha, used by the soldiers of the garrison as an exercising ground. A little distance beyond this is another landmark of Algerian topography, the Jardin d'Essai, a great subtropical horticultural park, where are fine avenues of palms and aloes. In and around the city the date palm grows abundantly, but seldom comes to fruitage. Some very large and ancient trees that stand in an Arab graveyard in Mustapha, and bear great clusters of dates, are so exceptional as to attract notice. The commercial supply of the fruit comes from the interior.

The orange is the gem of Algerian vegetation. To the traveler from northern climes, the perfumed waxen blossoms and the globes of golden fruit that are mingled together upon its branches are indeed things of beauty. Orange groves are abundant upon the slopes of Mustapha. In the Jardin d'Essai and the villa gardens there are also to be found lemons, limes, figs, and bananas. There are, too, olives and cypresses, more luxuriant of growth than those of Europe, and plantations of eucalyptus, the arboreal foe of malaria. In the grounds of the Palais d' Eté—once the summer abode of the Deys, now that of the French governor, and in his absence thrown open to visitors—is a thicket of bamboos. A