never he was
let loose, he was sure to be sniffing about among the prostrate
figures, examining their faces and _bournouses_, and often waking them
up with a start, to the intense delight of the French tars.

On our arrival off La Goulette, the only anchorage for ships, situated
about eight miles from Tunis, by sea, and nine miles by land, we were
greeted by a scene of the most tremendous confusion. All the feluccas
were rowed by Arabs, and their shouting, swearing, and gesticulation
exceeded all my former experiences of the kind, Stamboul not
excepted. A little patience, and a good deal of backsheesh, enabled us
to pass our baggage through the Douane; and we sent it on by boat to
Tunis, whither we proceeded by land in a carriage, and a drizzling
rain. Once on the way we stopped, at what the inhabitants term the
"Carthaginian cistern," to take in some exceedingly dirty water, from
a fountain of old-fashioned appearance. The carriage windows were
closed on account of the rain--an arrangement which interfered a good
deal with my view of the surrounding country. Twice only, before we
arrived at Tunis, my companion, a Russian, opened the window--to spit!
On the first of these occasions, I got a glimpse of a large heap of
immense stones, which were pointed out to me as the ruins of Carthage,
and a grove of olives, looking dismal exceedingly in the drizzling
rain. On the second occasion, I saw the lakes, and a solitary Tunisian
sentinel. This soldier was dressed much in the Turkish costume, and I
should scarcely have known him from an Osmanli, but that he wore the
brass plaque in the front of his scarlet fez, instead of at the top.

As we approached Tunis, we became involved in an increasing crowd of
loaded asses and mules; and, amid a great deal of screeching and
shouting, we made our entry into the city, and drove to the Hotel
de France, where we obtained such a complete view of an old wall,
that it effectually prevented us from seeing anything else. The
rooms, or rather holes, assigned to us, were so miserable, that we
tried the solitary opposition shop the place can boast--the Hotel
de Provence--but found that here we should fare rather worse than in
the Hotel de France. There was a third establishment--a tavern,
rejoicing in the magniloquent title of "Hotel of the Britannic
Isles"--but as this hostelry was entirely occupied by sailors and
Maltese skippers, we declined to avail ourselves of the "Britannic"
accommodation