The night was bright and starlit, one of those calm, mystic evenings peculiar to North Africa. All was peaceful, but no moon had yet risen. The city wore its gay air of carelessness. White-robed Moors and red-fezzed Arabs, negroes from the Soudan, and Biskris in their blue burnouses, lounged, chattered, and promenaded, while the cafés and bazaars around were full of life, and the warm, balmy air was laden with the scent of flowers. Suddenly, without warning, the whole place was illuminated by a brilliant light from the sea. Slowly it swept the town, and a few seconds later other bright beams shot forth, lighting up the quays, the terraces of white, flat-roofed houses, and the Moorish city on the hill. Then, before the promenaders could realise the cause, a loud booming was heard at sea, and almost at the same moment a shell fell, and, exploding in the midst of them, blew a dozen Moors and Arabs into atoms. In a few seconds the cannonade increased, and the battery in the centre of the harbour replied. Then firing seemed to proceed from all quarters, and a storm of shell suddenly crashed upon the town with the most appalling effect. British war-vessels had crept up within range, and were pouring the vials of Britain's wrath upon the ancient city of the Deys! The detachment of vessels which, led by the new battleship _Jupiter_, went south from St. Tropez, had received instructions to destroy Algiers and return with all speed to Cagliari, in Sardinia, to await further instructions. The bombardment of the two cities simultaneously was in order to draw off the French Squadron from the position it had taken up near Gibraltar, so that the British could fight and then run past them into the Atlantic. How far the manoeuvre succeeded is shown in the few interesting details of the bombardment given in the course of an interview which a reporter of the _Daily Telegraph_ had with Lieut. George Ingleton, of the first-class cruiser _Edgar_. The officer said:--