On the present occasion, however, our travellers were embarked on a much shorter journey. A few hours’ ride sufficed to carry them over the waste, and bring them to the oasis of Nefta—of the extreme antiquity of which town the Cadi had the most assured belief. “Nefta,” said he, “was built—or, rather the foundation of it was laid—by _Saidna Noah_ (our Lord Noah): peace be upon him! Here he discovered the first dry spot; and hence he disembarked here, and erected an abode for his family.” The inhabitants of these oases of the Desert are not without their etiquette; and on approaching the town, the Governor assumed his dignified aspect, made his entry with all possible gravity, and was no sooner seated in his own residence than the sheikhs and aristocracy of Nefta assembled to welcome him, some kissing his head, some his shoulder, some his elbow, and some the palm of his hand. The worthy Governor, however, who had a good dash of humour in his composition, loved other things better than etiquette. “No sooner was the assembly dismissed,” says our author, “than our lordly host again resumed his easy and affable manner. When the sound of the feet of the last grandee had died away, Ibrahim rose up, and assumed an attitude which might have been a subject for the study of an artist. There he stood, not unlike what I could fancy a Demosthenes, a Cato, or a Cicero, when on the point of commencing one of their thrilling orations. Ibrahim remained in that position a few seconds, and then turning to us, said, ‘I am glad to be free again. Gentlemen! you no doubt are hungry as well as myself; have you any objection to a good dinner?’”