Tunis and Tripoli, and other parts of Barbary. To purchase the co-operation of a volunteer in these countries would require more money than defraying the expense of an expedition, and after all, from the love of intrigue and double-dealing which Europeans long resident in Barbary acquire, as well as other drawbacks, you would be very badly served. I shall begin the narrative of my personal adventures in The Sahara with my departure from the island of Jerbah to Tripoli. _May 7th, 1845._--Left Jerbah in the evening for Tripoli in the coaster _Mesâoud_ ("happy"). The captain and owner was a Maltese, but the colours under which we sailed were Tunisian. Generally, a Moorish captain _di bandeira_ commands these coasters, because it saves them dues at the various ports. Indeed, most of the small coasting craft of Tunis and Tripoli, though the property of Europeans, sail under the Turkish, rather Mahometan (_red_) flag. Although May, our captain told me, it was the worst month in the year for coasting in Barbary. The wind comes in sudden puffs and gales, blowing with extreme violence everything before it, prostrating and rooting up the stoutest and strongest palm-trees. So, in fact, as soon as we got out, a _gregale_ ("north-easter") came on terrifically, and occasioned us to return early next morning to Jerbah. During the night, we were nearly swamped a few miles from the shore. The _gregale_ continued the next two days, striking down several of the date-trees with great fury. When these trees are so struck down, the people do not make use of the wood for months, nay years, because it is ill-luck. Jerbah is a grand focus of wind, and it sometimes blows from every point of the compass in twelve hours. Æolus seems to patronize this isle; and, as at Mogador on the Atlantic, wind here supplies the place of rain. The inhabitants of Mogador have wind nine months out of twelve; but seasons pass without a shower of rain. _10th._--Evening. Left again for Tripoli. We passed the night about ten miles off the island, amongst the fishing apparatus, which looks at a distance like so many little islets. They consist of mere palm-tree boughs, struck deep into the mud as piles are driven; and large spaces are thus enclosed. When the tide[7] falls, the fish get entangled or enclosed in these enclosures, and are caught. Very fine fish are taken, and a fifth of the ordinary sustenance of the islanders is derived from this fishing. Unhappily the poor fishermen are obliged to pay from twenty-five to fifty per cent. of the fish caught to Government; so the poor in all countries are the worse treated because they are poor.