unger; he has no notion of
laying by any thing for the advantage of his family, or as a reserve
for himself in his old age; but if by any chance he obtains money, he
remains idle until it is expended, and then returns unwillingly to
work. The females here are allowed greater liberty than those of
Tripoli, and are more kindly treated. Though so much better used than
those of Barbary, their life is still a state of slavery. A man never
ventures to speak of his women; is reproached, if he spends much time
in their company, never eats with them; but is waited upon at his
meals, and fanned by them while he sleeps. Yet these poor beings,
never having known the sweets of liberty, are, in spite of their
humiliation, comparatively happy.

The authority of parents over their children is very great; some
fathers of the better class do not allow their sons even to eat or
sit down in their presence, until they become men; the poorer orders
are less strict.

There are no written records of events amongst the Fezzaners, and
their traditions are so disfigured, and so strangely mingled with
religious and superstitious falsehoods, that no confidence can be
placed in them. Yet the natives themselves look with particular
respect on a man capable of talking of the people of the olden time.
Several scriptural traditions are selected and believed. The Psalms
of David, the Pentateuch, the Books of Solomon, and many extracts
from the inspired writers, are universally known, and most
reverentially considered. The New Testament, translated into the
Arabic, which Captain Lyon took with him, was eagerly read, and no
exception was made to it, but that of our Saviour being designated as
the son of God. St. Paul, or Baulus, bears all the blame of Mahomet's
name not being inserted in it, as they believe that his coming was
foretold by Christ, but that Paul erased it; he is therefore called a
kaffir, and his name is not used with much reverence.

Captain Lyon had not been more than ten days at Mourzouk, before he
was attacked with severe dysentery, which confined him to his bed
during twenty-two days, and reduced him to the last extremity. His
unadorned narrative conveys an affecting account of the sufferings to
which the party were exposed from the insalubrity of the climate; the
inadequate arrangements which had been made for their comfort, or
even subsistence, and the sordid and treacherous conduct of the
sultan. "Our little party," he says, "was