by fierce winds, hot as a furnace blast, that heap up waves of sand and bury passing caravans. And the people who dwell in the midst of all this silent horror, are they not to be pitied? Cut off from civilization, ignorant, filthy, sick; their very existence often one long malady, mental, moral, and physical; their only earthly aspirations, sufficient food to sustain their miserable lives, a Bedouin tent beneath which to burn by day, to freeze by night. Yet the meanest of them consider themselves immeasurably superior to us. They say, "You people of the Great West, you have been favored with many blessings, great ships, great wealth, a thousand wonderful things most useful to people who live such hasty, restless lives; but to us Allah—praised be his name!—has given that which is above all this, he has given us the precious jewel of the 'True Belief.' This is our glorious heritage."
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WHERE FRANCE BURIES HER DEAD IN THE DESERT
The desert night is closing in as we approach the sandy hills of Touggourt. Just as the sun sinks below the horizon,
