‘Then what evidence have you for the truth of those marvellous apparitions?’ _Cadi._—‘Every one believes in all I have told you.’ ‘Is it not possible that all this belief may be the result of the fevered imagination of some superstitious individual?’ _Cadi._—‘It certainly is possible,—but all believe it.’” This wonderful “sea” is a vast lake, dry for about nine months of the year, extending about seventy miles in length, by forty broad at its widest part. It receives several streamlets, such as the _Ras Elain_ of Nefta; and, during the rainy season, the torrents from the mountains which on two sides at least adjoin it. During the winter, portions of the lake-bed retain for a short time the waters thus poured into it; but during the greater part of the year, a deposit of salt only is visible on its sandy surface. It abounds in marshes, quicksands, and trap-pits; and at no time can it be crossed save by a single route, which is pointed out by trunks of palm-trees, placed at short distances,—and hence its proper name, _the Lake of Marks_. Tufts of very sickly-looking grass, and mounds clothed with consumptive shrubs, fringed its shores at the time our travellers visited it; and its surface was wavy, and covered with saline incrustations. Towards the north-east part of the lake there is a kind of island, about four miles in circumference, which is covered with palm-trees. The Arabs say that those trees have grown up from the kernels left there by Pharaoh’s troops,—and this they regard as an additional proof that the Egyptian monarch and his army perished there! At last the three weeks’ stay at Tozar drew to a close, and a most lovely night was that which preceded their departure. Mr Davis seldom indulges in scenic description; and we give the following as a rare and charming picture of a night-scene in the Desert:— “At half-past ten, when every inmate of my establishment had retired to rest,—the tranquillity, the universal stillness, and balmy atmosphere seemed to invite me to leave my tent again. All was serene and calm without, and everything appeared to inspire the mind with serious and sober reflection. ‘Nature was hush’d, as if her works adored, Still’d by the presence of her living Lord.’ The sultry heat of the day had now ceased, and a cool northerly breeze gently waved the branches of the stately palm-trees. The darkness gradually vanished before the bright rays of the moon, whose silvery light streamed through the forest; and in a few minutes, she rode high above the loftiest of its countless trees, and by her splendour and brilliancy so illuminated every object around, that day appeared again perfectly restored. And the stars, too,— ‘Those quenchless stars! so eloquently bright. Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,’—