Djelish. I stopped at the Cat or Du-chat stables,
appropriately kept by Mr. Duchat-_el_, and found that it was too late
to stop at any place on the road to Blidah.

I took a walk through the town, and on the Grande Place found a number
of soldiers singing a chorus very creditably, without instrumental
accompaniment. They perform in this manner every Sunday. The view over
the plain of the Djelish is one of the most splendid I ever beheld,
not excepting that from the Alhambra itself. I was told I could easily
get to Blidah in a day on horseback, from Milianah, so I determined to
stay at the Hotel d'Iffly, a very comfortable place. At dinner I met
Mostyn and Captain Ross, just arrived from Algiers, per diligence.
Captain R----, who is in the Bengal Artillery, told me he thought the
French used the natives much better than we do those of India. I
differ from him. One of the French officers with whom I dined told me
the only way to manage the "Indigenes" was by that vigorous measure,
"_un coup de fouet_," and, from what I saw, I believe it to be the
case.

On Monday, the 19th, I left Milianah at about half-past seven, and
rode through splendid Pyreneean scenery to Vezoul, a French village.
The aubergiste took me for a German, and announced that he had two
German workmen staying with him, who spoke with the same accent I
used. When I repudiated my Teutonic nationality, he met me with the
remark: "_Enfin, c'est le meme sang rouge qui coule dans nos veines,
que nous soyons Anglais, Francais, ou Allemands;_" to which undeniable
proposition I rejoined, "_Oui, c'est vrai nous sommes tous Europeens
ici._" I fed my horse here, and came on, over the mountains, under a
very hot sun, to Bourkikah, where I entered the Medidja plain. On
entering this plain, the traveller enjoys a magnificent view right
onward to sea, gleaming miles away in the sunny haze. At Bourkikah, my
horse was so tired, that I was obliged to take off the saddle-bags,
and leave them at the "Bureau des Diligences," to be forwarded. Some
French officers at the hotel assured me I should not be able to get to
Blidah, and recommended me strongly to stay at El Afroun, "_chez les
Petits Freres_," if I found my horse too tired to proceed. I rode
determinedly on through the plain, but could scarcely get my horse to
move by dint of whip or spur. By the time I had crossed the river into
El Afroun, I found my horse so entirely knocked up, that it was
clearly impossible to pro