Bougie, which is the natural seaport of Kabylia, is superbly situated on the slopes of Mount Guraya, which are so steep that the red-roofed, white-walled buildings of the town seem in imminent danger of sliding into the sea. Many of its streets, in fact, are too precipitous for vehicular traffic, being ascended, as in the case of certain Italian towns, by long flights of stairs. There is a theatrical air about the place, roofed with rose-red tiles and smothered in crimson bougainvillea, as it rises, tier on tier, above a U-shaped harbor on whose ultramarine waters ride at anchor vessels which bear beneath their sterns the names of half the ports along the Mediterranean, fishing-craft with hibiscus-colored lateen-sails, a French destroyer, slim and gray. Frowning on the heights above the town is an ancient Spanish fortress whose crumbling, mellow-tinted walls might have been built from papier-mâché by a designer of stage-scenery. At its back rises the great rock of Guraya, topped by a shrine which is a place of pilgrimage for pious Moslems; while behind that in turn tower skyward the mighty peaks of Babor and Tababort, dominating and dwarfing all else. As I breakfasted on the lofty, rose-embowered balcony of my hotel, the ruined corsair castle clinging to the hillside just above me, the red-and-white town sprawling at my feet, and the sun-flecked, bright blue sea as a back-drop, I always had the feeling that I was in a box at the theater, and that shortly the orchestra would strike up and a chorus of pirates and peasant maidens would come prancing out upon the stage. Skirting the edge of the precipitous headland on which Bougie stands, or hewn from its face, is the finest cliff walk I have ever seen; a narrow foot-path, nearly four miles long and in places barely a yard in width, every turn of which reveals a view of sea or mountains which causes one to gasp with admiration and awe. The Strandweg at Abbazia, the pergola-covered walk of the Cappuccini-Convento above Amalfi, the path which borders the cliffs of Anacapri, all these are very lovely in their way; but I, who have seen most of the sights this world has to offer, assure you that none of them can compare in grandeur and beauty with Bougie’s promenade.