up a loud laugh, and my friend
the tobacconist--or rather the tobacco-less--looked exceedingly
"sold."

I found Marsa very prettily situated, opposite to the bay of Tunis,
near the ruins of old Carthage. The Bey's palace is a handsome
building. The English and French consulates are also well built. I
proceeded to a small Italian _locanda_, to get breakfast; but the old
lady, who seemed the presiding genius of the place, obstinately
refused to let us have anything. "_Io han niente_," was her
unanswerable argument. But I rather ostentatiously pulled out my
watch, whose golden blink somewhat softened the old lady's mood, and
caused her to remember that she might have certain eggs, and some
bread, and salad, though a moment before she had been protesting that
she had not even such a thing as bread in the house. Her son, a
handsome young Italian, returned at this juncture, and we soon had an
excellent _dejeuner_ of sausages, salad, spinach, omelette, and
cheese, with very good wine and coffee. I went down to the seaside and
bathed, first burying my watch and purse in the sand; for the Arabs
have a weakness for occasionally coming down under such circumstances,
and stealing one's clothes.

Past a ruined temple, down an avenue into Camatte, where I got an Arab
to show me the way to a house formerly occupied by an Englishman.
Here, for a wonder, I met a Moor, who spoke very good French, and was
very civil. He asked me how I liked Africa, and laughed cordially at
my open avowal, that it was "_un peu bizarre_." After gathering a few
delicious oranges for me in the garden, he took me into the interior
of the house. I found it a most charming residence, with a deliciously
cool marble reservoir in the centre, full of gold and silver fish.

I rode back by the margin of the lake, but saw only small game till I
got to a large olive forest, where a jackal made his appearance. I
gave chase, and, after a rattling gallop, lodged him among some cactus
bushes, where I could get near enough to shoot him; and so back to
Tunis.

CHAPTER X.

ABOUT BOAR-SHOOTING.

Sleeman.--The Oued el Ahwena.--Its Scenery and its Dangers.--Beauty
of the Landscape on its Banks.

I started next day with the Umbra, who was remarkable for a long
scimitar, and spurs nearly as long. Each time I put my horse to a
gallop, he was under the impression that I wanted to ride a race with
him, and went on at full speed, till I restrained his ardour. We