The horror of the Desert does not lie only in its aridity, in its vacuity--this vacuity is not absolute; in default of life, Death peoples its solitudes. The glens or gorges frequented by the caravans are lined with stones, symmetrically disposed at certain intervals. These stones mark the places where rest the remains of the hapless pilgrims who have attempted to cross the wilderness, and perished in the attempt. Round and about each rugged tomb lie the skeletons of animals which none have troubled themselves to bury in the sand. Frequently you may see, on the sandy wastes of Africa, or the desolate plains of Asia and the New World, these carcasses laid out in two interminable rows; indicating the gloomy track which should be followed by the traveller, and never failing to remind him of the tribute Death levies upon mankind in these accursed regions. Thus does the Desert show itself more relentless than even the hungry ocean, which at least devours its victims whole, and affronts the eye with no traces of its murders. But the Moloch of the Desert has no shame; it cynically exposes the hideous remains of those whom it has killed; it strews the earth with their bones; it has its museums of skeletons, or rather of preserved animals. M. Trémaux observed this curious phenomenon in the ravines of Korosko, but it probably occurs elsewhere under similar conditions. On closely examining the carcasses which he met at every step, he was astonished to find them covered with their skin, and presenting still their natural forms, as if the animals had been stuffed or embalmed. He readily distinguished horses, oxen, asses, camels. He observed with no less surprise that these corpses exhaled no odour. They had been dried by the heat before decomposition could commence its frightful work. The skin had hardened; the muscles and internal organs had been reduced into dust and gradually blown away by the wind through the yawning apertures at the two extremities of the body. There remained nothing more, literally, but skin and bone. "This skin had such a consistency," says our author, "such a degree of solidity, that all my efforts to split it were without result. The heaviest stones which I could raise rebounded upon their carcasses with a loud noise, but did not pierce them. If a man dies while a caravan is on its march, he is buried in the sand. I have had no opportunity of examining whether the desert-heat produces the same effect upon his body as upon the corpses of the animals just mentioned; but it ought not to be so, since the human skin has not the same consistency." * * * * *