A narrative of travels in northern Africa in the years 1818, 19, and 20; accompanied by geographical notices of Soudan and of the course of the NigerLyon, G. F. (George Francis)
History
A narrative of travels in northern Africa in the years 1818, 19, and 20; accompanied by geographical notices of Soudan and of the course of the Niger
Lyon, G. F. (George Francis)
Fezzan (Libya) -- Description and travel; Tripolitania -- Description and travel
Tuesday, 21st March.—At eight we left the Castle, and passed over
a sandy flat, the sea being hidden from us by the sand hills. At
noon we crossed a romantic water-course, having a small limpid
stream running through it. We saw here the remains of a magnificent
aqueduct, which once ran to Lebida. At a short distance from one
another were many small edifices resembling the mouths of wells,
which were once used as communications with the aqueduct; these
little buildings are seen all the way to Lebida, and show what course
the aqueduct takes. At two we separated from the Kafflé, and went to
the ruins of Lebida, which stand near the sea, and are surrounded by
sand hills formed against them. The country inland of these hills,
being highly and most luxuriantly cultivated, presents a pleasing
aspect. As I was still very unwell, and little able to walk up the
sand hills, I visited but three or four of the buildings, of which
the lighthouse appeared the most extraordinary. Other ruins, which
have once been fortresses, are formed of immense masses of stone.
The remains of the foundation of the ancient city wall are on
a gigantic scale, and several pillars yet remain of the same
description as those taken away in the Weymouth store-ship. My
time being limited, and this place having before been visited and
described by persons of more science and ability than myself, I did
not attempt to search for any inscriptions. My short visit, however,
afforded me much gratification, and I returned to the track of my
companions, whom I came up with at seven, having travelled north-
north-west thirty miles.
Wednesday, March 22nd.—I found myself much better. Fine morning. At
seven we pursued our course over mountains covered with verdure,
and at nine came to a Roman well standing at the foot of an old
castle, which appeared to have an arched communication with it,
to be used in time of war. This well was in a narrow deep ravine,
which the castle commanded. We found the old Turk and his slaves
waiting for us at the well; they had gone past us in the dark. The
old man was in great wrath; some thieves having come in the night
and robbed him of five hundred weight or a camel load of dates:
suspecting his own hungry Arabs, he had ordered them to lie at a
distance from the sacks. They told him they would pray to God that
he might suffer for his suspicion; and were therefore not sorry to
see him so soon punished for it. Some Bedouins among the rocks in the
pass were the robbers; one of his Negresses saw them in the act, but
feared to wake her master, because he once beat her for disturbing
him while asleep. When the old man related to me his misfortune,
I gave him no consolation, but said I admired the ingenuity of the
thieves; and all our Arabs tauntingly told him that he had now paid
his footing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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