[Illustration: “SHOVING IT HURRIEDLY OFF ON TO THE FLOOR, I FOUND IT CONTAINED A HISSING AND SQUIRMING MASS OF SNAKES.”] [Illustration: My Experiences in Algeria. BY THE BARONESS DE BOERIO.] The Baroness’s husband, an officer in the French army, was ordered to Algeria, and took his wife and children with him. There, located at a tiny post far from civilization, in the midst of fierce and unruly tribes, the authoress met with some very strange adventures, which she here sets forth in a chatty and amusing fashion. III. We climbed into the regimental brake very gladly, had a good breakfast at Boghar, and then, at four o’clock in the afternoon, started for the first caravanserai, Ain Ousera, on the way to Laghouat, where we ought to have arrived at about half-past seven. However, half-past nine came, and still no caravanserai was in sight. The night was of an inky blackness, and we began to suspect that we had lost our way. My husband accordingly stopped the carriage and questioned the driver, who acknowledged that he had only been that way once before, and was not very sure of his route. In this country, where there are no roads, one always follows the direction of the telegraph posts. “Where are they?” asked my husband. The Spahi hung his head abashed. “I have not seen one since it grew dark,” he confessed. [Illustration: ARAB WOMEN WASHING IN A STREAM. _From a Photograph._] There was no use being angry and abusing him, so my husband set to work to gain some idea of our position. Happily we met an Arab, who gave us the indication required, and we set out again at a good pace. Whether the Arab gave us the wrong direction, or whether the driver deviated, I cannot say; but we were spinning along, making up for lost time, when suddenly the horses were flung back on their haunches and a voice yelled, “Back! Back! _Malheureux_!” The Spahi fortunately obeyed the command, and my husband jumped out quickly to see what new adventure had befallen us. This one, however, came very near being our last, for we had been stopped by the guardian on the very brink of a quarry! Another few yards and we should have leapt into space and fallen down a precipice some thirty feet deep. My husband was afraid to trust the soldier driver any more, so he arranged with the quarry guardian to guide us, and we ultimately arrived at Ain Ousera towards 2 a.m., tired out and as hungry as wolves. We woke up the landlord and asked for beds and food. There was nothing to be had, he said, but bread, potatoes, and eggs, but we told him that would do if some strong, hot coffee accompanied it. An hour later we were all snoring. [Illustration: “THE HORSES WERE FLUNG BACK ON THEIR HAUNCHES AND A VOICE YELLED, ‘BACK! BACK!’”]