decision to abandon the idea of bathing was hastened when we saw three large gray water-rats furtively emerge from one of the dressing-rooms. This was, we learned, the bathing-establishment _de luxe_ of El Hamma, patronized only by the wealthier natives; the general run of Arabs utilize the numerous hot streams which meander in all directions through the town. These streams are supplied by springs which gush from sandy hillocks, and almost all of them are at a very hot temperature, often at the boiling-point. As in the case of the other hot springs found throughout Tunisia, most of them have medicinal properties and are said to be highly efficacious in the treatment of certain ailments, a fact which explains, no doubt, the Roman settlements in remote parts of the country, for, particularly during the luxurious and dissolute days of the empire, the Romans, as is well known, were subject to gout, rheumatism, eczema, and syphilitic diseases. The Arabs, who are extremely superstitious, assert that the springs of El Hamma were originally cold and devoid of medicinal properties, but that a beneficent marabout, a holy man of exceptional sanctity, was persuaded to spit into them one day, whereupon they became hot and mineralized! In places the streams have eroded narrow gulches in the soft soil, and these the natives have here and there roofed over with palm-branches and matting so as to afford a measure of privacy, of which, however, they did not appear to avail themselves, for on every hand we encountered Arab men and boys splashing about and soaping themselves in the steaming waters, stark naked but quite unashamed. In a somewhat more secluded spot, where one of the streams broadened out into a fair-sized pool, was a bath reserved for the other sex, its banks dotted with women and girls in various stages of dishabille. Despite all that has been written about the excessive modesty of Moslem women-folk, who, when on the street, swathe themselves in shapeless garments and cover their faces to the eyes, the slim brown maidens of El Hamma disrobed themselves before us with utter unconcern, displaying their charms with as little reserve as the show-girls in Earl Carroll’s “Vanities.” Some of the younger ones were as graceful as the bronzes in a museum, with slim rounded bodies and firm pointed breasts, their clear olive skins suffused with pink and as smooth and lustrous as satin. They completely ignored our presence, disporting themselves in the pool with the abandon of water-nymphs, until I indiscreetly unslung my camera, whereupon a Cerberus in the person of a wrinkled crone suddenly appeared with a cudgel and, loosing a torrent of shrill Arabic invective, drove us away. Perhaps I am mistaken, but it struck me that the nymphs were sorry to see us go.