Algiers of to-day is essentially a big commercial town of over two hundred thousand inhabitants. Owing to the configuration of the ground it has spread east and west, giving it a sea-front of some ten miles. Inland the houses have crept up the hills as far as possible, but in many places it is too steep to attempt building, and one- or two-storied villas are the general rule. Most of these villas are lamentable modern constructions, but there are a few which date from the old Arab days, and in which there are a multitude of lovely marbles and tiles of the period. These villas were occupied after the French conquest by followers of the victorious army, and later, when Algiers was discovered as a winter resort, they passed into the hands of English hibernators. In those days the life on the Mustapha Hill was brilliant and amusing. The English colony was composed of well-to-do people who spent half the year in these Arab villas, while those who had not permanent residences settled in the few local hotels. An English club flourished, and a real society existed. But all this is gone. The facilities of transit, the mechanical age in which we live, and newly acquired wealth have dispelled all this pleasant life. The English hibernators who inhabited the picturesque villas have in many cases been supplanted by foreigners, and those who remain are not much given to entertaining, so that it is rare for the outsider to get more than a glimpse of the multi-colored tiles. Great hotels have sprung up, rivaling one another in a second-rate atmosphere of the Riviera; Swiss waiters do their utmost to keep up the illusion, but the lack of elegance handicaps them. If, therefore, the visitor is not seeking gossip and bridge in overheated drawing-rooms, or the company of summer boarders from Bexhill and the relics of our great Indian Empire, he will do well to stay just long enough in Algiers to collect his breath, and then penetrate into the interior and see the real life of the country. If, however, he is not of an active nature, he can find excursions round about Algiers, but it will be at the cost of submitting to the gala nights of the Mustapha hotels, of the unsyncopated music of lamentable orchestras, while the middle-aged ladies of fashion sit round criticizing the few youthful or well-dressed creatures who have strayed by accident into this mediocre society. Algiers is not Algeria, and its people are wisely called “Algerois,” as against “Algeriens.”