The scientific researches on the site of Carthage, though under the official supervision of the Department of Antiquities and Arts of the beylical government, are being mainly conducted by a small group of White Fathers under the personal direction of the celebrated archæologist and explorer, Père Delattre. With his powerful frame, his ruddy cheeks, his twinkling eyes, and snowy, patriarchal beard, Father Delattre is one of the most picturesque and interesting figures whom I met in Africa. In accordance with the highly sensible custom of the order, he wears a modified form of the native costume—a flowing burnous of creamy white and the red _chéchia_ with its long blue tassel—so that he resembles a jolly old Moslem _mollah_ rather than a Christian priest. An octogenarian, he is as robust and agile as most men of half his years, and I must confess that as he strode across the rugged terrain where the work of excavation is being carried on it taxed my endurance to keep pace with him. Father Delattre’s chief interest is the Lavigerie Museum, housed in a modest building on the Byrsa, where, thanks to his indefatigable effort, there has been brought together an absolutely unique collection of columns, statues, sarcophagi, mosaics, amphoræ, stellæ, inscriptions, bas-reliefs, jewelry, and utensils of various kinds illustrative of the various phases of the city’s long and varied history. Here, brought from the early Punic tombs behind the Byrsa, are tear-glasses of Phenician glass, fragile and iridescent as the wing of a butterfly, in which the great ladies of Dido’s time carried their cosmetics just as American women carry “compacts” to-day. In this glass case is a necklace of as exquisite design and workmanship as anything that Tiffany or Cartier could show; perhaps—who knows?—it once encircled the white neck of Sophonisba. Over there is an extraordinary collection of lamps, the finest and most complete in existence: cheap little lamps of terra-cotta which gleamed from the windows of humble dwellings; elaborately carved lamps which shone on the sumptuous dinner-tables of great nobles and rich merchants; lamps of porphyry and marble which guttered on the altars of the gods. And there are thousands and thousands of bas-reliefs and inscriptions, on which appear such familiar religious symbols as the fish, the lamb, the anchor, and the crown, associated with the worship, persecution, and martyrdom of the early Christians. [Illustration: THE VOICE FROM THE MINARET As the sun sinks behind the rim of the Sahara the shrill voice of the muezzin quavers across the housetops and palm-groves in the call to evening prayer, the Moslem profession of faith—_Ash hadu illa illaha ill Allah, wa ash haduinna Mohammed an rasool Allah_....]