their camp, which is called in their language Berkelet. But
the short distance of the Moors was found very long by the females and
the children, on account of the downs of sand which we had to ascend and
descend every instant, also of prickly shrubs over which we were
frequently obliged to walk. Those who were barefooted, felt most
severely at this time the want of their shoes. I myself lost among the
bushes various shreds of my dress, and my feet and legs were all
streaming with blood. At length, after two long hours of walking and
suffering, we arrived at the camp of that tribe to which belonged our
Arab conductors. We had scarcely got into the camp, when the dogs, the
children, and the Moorish women, began to annoy us. Some of them threw
sand in our eyes, others amused themselves by snatching at our hair, on
pretence of wishing to examine it. This pinched us, that spit upon us;
the dogs bit our legs, whilst the old harpies cut the buttons from the
officers coats, or endeavoured to take away the lace. Our conductors,
however, had pity on us, and chased away the dogs and the curious crowd,
who had already made us suffer as much as the thorns which had torn our
feet. The chiefs of the camp, our guides, and some good women, at last
set about getting us some supper. Water in abundance was given us
without payment, and they sold us fish dried in the sun, and some
bowlfuls of sour milk, all at a reasonable price.

We found a Moor in the camp who had previously known my father at
Senegal, and who spoke a little French. As soon as he recognised him, he
cried, "Tiens toi, Picard! ni a pas connaitre moi Amet?" Hark ye,
Picard, know you not Amet? We were all struck with astonishment at
these French words coming from the mouth of a Moor. My father
recollected having employed long ago a young goldsmith at Senegal, and
discovering the Moor Amet to be the same person, shook him by the hand.
After that good fellow had been made acquainted with our shipwreck, and
to what extremities our unfortunate family had been reduced, he could
not refrain from tears; and this perhaps was the first time a Musulman
had ever wept over the misfortunes of a Christian. Amet was not
satisfied with deploring our hard fate; he was desirous of proving that
he was generous and humane, and instantly distributed among us a large
quantity of milk and water free of any charge. He also raised for our
family a large tent of the skins of camels, cattle and sheep,