I shall never forget this, the last night of the year 1849, which opened to us a new era with many ordeals, and by our endurance of which we were to render ourselves worthy of success. There were, besides ourselves, our servants, and our two muleteers, four horsemen of the Bey, and three natives from Jirbi. When midnight came my fellow traveller and I saluted the new year with enthusiasm, and with a cordial shake of the hand wished each other joy. Our Mohammedan companions were greatly pleased when they were informed of the reason of our congratulating each other, and wished us all possible success for the new year. We had also reason to be pleased with them; for by their not inharmonious songs they relieved the fatigue of a long, sleepless, and excessively cold night. Having made a short halt under the olive-trees at the side of the dilapidated town of Herkla, and taken a morsel of bread, we moved on with our poor animals without interruption till half an hour after noon, when we reached the funduk (or caravanserai) Sidi Bú Jʿafer, near Súsa, where we took up our quarters, in order to be able to start again at night, the gates of the town being kept shut till morning.[7] Starting before three o’clock in the morning, we were exactly twelve hours in reaching El Jem, with the famous Castle of the Prophetess, still one of the most splendid monuments of Roman greatness overhanging the most shabby hovels of Mohammedan indifference. On the way we had a fine view, towards the west, of the picturesque Jebel Trutsa, along the foot of which I had passed on my former wanderings, and of the wide, out-stretching Jebel Useleet. Another ride of twelve hours brought us, on the 3rd of January 1850, to Sfákes, where we were obliged to take up our quarters in the town, as our land-journey was here at an end, and we were to procure a vessel to carry us either direct to Tripoli, or to some other point on the opposite side of the Lesser Syrtis. The journey by land is not only expensive, particularly for people who are encumbered with a good deal of luggage, as we then were, and very long and tedious, but is also very unsafe, as I found from experience on my former journey. The island of Jirbi, which forms the natural station of the maritime intercourse between the regency of Tunis and that of Tripoli, had been put under the strictest rules of quarantine, rather from political considerations than from those of health, all intercourse with the mainland having been cut off. It was therefore with great difficulty that we succeeded in hiring a “gáreb” to carry us to Zwára, in which we embarked in the forenoon of Saturday the 5th of January.