It was 2.30 P.M. when we were at last able to start, and, as we knew that there was still some distance to travel, we had but very little time for botanising during the afternoon ride. Our way lay for more than two hours along the base of the hills, whose forms were much of the pattern usually seen where a high mountain rises from a plain country. The ridges dividing the main valleys gradually diminish in height as they recede from the axis, and ultimately are weather-worn into eminences of a more or less conical form, which project to an unequal distance towards the plain. Towards five o’clock we began to ascend to a low pass connecting a long projecting spur to the right with the main mass of the hills on our left. Up to this we had seen a good many scattered blocks of sandstone, but nowhere forming mounds. We now came on limestone— showing traces of fossils. The hills hereabouts were bare of trees, with a thick growth of palmetto, bushy _Labiatæ_, _Helianthemum_, and perennial grasses, except where, under tillage, they produce good crops of red-bearded wheat. From the first pass we descended rather steeply to cross a narrow torrent bed, and reascend to a second somewhat higher pass, reached at 6 P.M., which we found to be 3,590 feet (1,094·3 m.) above the sea, or just 700 feet above the river at the mouth of the Ourika valley. The country here appears to be fully peopled. We saw several villages, and one or two quadrangular buildings of larger size, probably the dwellings of local sheiks. We had during most of the way wide views over the plain of Marocco, and were able to distinguish the city itself, with the great tower of the Koutoubia and the extensive palm groves on its western side. Slight undulations of the ground are not perceptible when seen from above; but it was quite clear to us that nothing deserving to be called a hill breaks the uniformity of the gentle slope with which the plain subsides from the base of the Atlas to the region traversed by us on our road from Mogador. The monotony of the march was diversified by another furious quarrel between the officers of our escort. Whatever may have been the pretext, the cause was doubtless the mutual ill blood arising from the disputes over their respective shares of the spoil obtained from the villagers. Not content with volleys of guttural abuse, and seemingly ferocious threats, they appeared intent on serious mischief, and proceeded to unpack their long guns. Luckily these were securely wrapped up in complicated covers of red cloth, and, before the combatants were ready for action, prudence once more restrained valour, and the storm passed away in sullen growlings and mutterings of future vengeance. It sometimes struck us that if there were such things as professional brigands in Marocco, we might have been robbed or murdered with perfect safety before one of the guns of our escort had been extracted from its case, and made ready for use.