Man’s heart bounds in his breast at the thought of measuring his puny force with the desert’s might, and of emerging triumphant from the trial--and this sense of danger never absent invests the scene of travel with an interest not its own. Thus, in spite of all he may have endured, the traveller that has once crossed the desert will ever after remember it with regret, and long for the renewal of its deep emotions. For the life of the Sahara resembles that of the ocean. During a continuance of bad weather or a calm the mariner may vow to forsake the sea for ever, but he has scarcely landed when his affection revives and he longs for the sea again. In summer when the sun pours his vertical rays over the arid waste the desert is one vast furnace; but in the temperate season, its pleasures well repay the wanderer for many a peril or hardship. In this pure dry atmosphere his health improves, and with his health the tone and vigour of his mind. Though his mouth glows and his skin is parched--yet he feels no languor, the effect of humid heat; his lungs are lightened, his sight brightens, his memory recovers its strength, his spirits become exuberant, his fancy and imagination are powerfully aroused-- and the wildness and sublimity of the scenes around him stir up all the energies of his soul--whether for exertion, danger, or strife. His senses are quickened; they require no stimulant but air and exercise-- in the desert spirituous liquors only excite disgust. There is a keen enjoyment in a mere animal existence. The vigorous appetite disposes of the most indigestible food; the sand is softer than a bed of down, and the purity of the air suddenly puts to flight a dire cohort of diseases. Hence it is that both sexes and every age, the most material as well as the most imaginative of minds, all feel their hearts dilate and their pulses beat strong, as they look down from their dromedaries upon the glorious desert. Nothing can equal the beauty of the night in these arid wilds, doubly grateful after the heat and glare of the day. We, the sons of a colder clime, accustomed to see the starry firmament faintly glimmering through a misty haze, can have no idea of the magnificence of its luminous worlds brightly sparkling through an atmosphere of incomparable clearness. Grazing at these isles of light the soul rises on the wings of adoration to Him who made them. The desert is the image of the Infinite; no place is more apt to awaken religious feelings, and no time is fitter for devotion than its still and solitary night. He, who, in the desert does not hear the voice of God, knows not the Almighty, and ranks far below the wandering Arab, who, after the toil of the sultry day, reverentially bows down his forehead in prayer over the sand of the desert. Falling on his knees he exclaims: ‘Allah hu akbar! God is greater:’ greater than all created things, which only bear witness to His greatness.