A wonderful luxuriance of vegetation characterises these oases of the wilderness. Under and between the date-palms, grow apricot and peach trees, pomegranates and oranges, the henna, so indispensable to Oriental beauty; and even the apple-tree, the pride of European orchards. The vine twines from one date-palm to another, and every spot susceptible of culture produces corn, particularly dourrah or barley, and also clover and tobacco. With a prudent economy the villages are built on the borders of the oases on the unfruitful soil, so that not a foot of ground susceptible of culture may be lost. The vast tracts of sterile sand, where not even the smallest plant takes root, and which might be called the ‘desert of the desert,’ present the greatest conceivable contrast to its green oases. With the vegetable world the animal kingdom likewise disappears, and for days the traveller pursues his journey without meeting with a single quadruped, bird, or insect. All is solitude and death in this awful wilderness, where, in the Bedouins’ poetical language, ‘nothing exists but Allah!’ Nowhere are the transitions of light and shade more abrupt than in the desert, for nowhere is the atmosphere more thoroughly free from all vapours. The sun pours a dazzling light on the ground, so that every object stands forth with wonderful clearness, while all that remains in the shade is sharply defined, and appears like a dark spot in the surrounding glare. These harsh contrasts between light and shade deprive the landscape of all grace and harmony; but this want is amply compensated by its singular grandeur. The boundless horizon and the silence which reigns over the whole scene, appeal with powerful effect to the imagination, and thus constantly amuse the mind amid scenery that presents so few objects to occupy it. But in such a country every slight modification of form or colour rivets observation: the senses are sharpened, and perceptive faculties prone to grow dull over a perpetual shifting of scenery, act vigorously when excited by the capability of embracing each detail. To the solitary wayfarer there is an interest in the wilderness unknown to the Alpine glacier and even to the rolling prairie, the effect of continued excitement on the mind, stimulating its powers to their pitch. Above, a sky, terrible in its stainless beauty, and the splendour of a pitiless blinding glare; around you, drifted sand-heaps upon which each puff of wind leaves its own trace in solid waves; naked rocks, the very skeletons of mountains, and hard unbroken plains, over which he who rides is spurred by the idea that the bursting of a water-bag or the pricking of a camel’s hoof would be certain death of torture--a haggard land infested by wild beasts and wilder men--a region whose very fountains seem to murmur the warning words ‘Drink and away.’ What can apparently be more devoid of every charm, and yet in none of her aspects is Nature more fascinating and sublime.