FOREIGN BOY SCOUTS
THE NORWEGIANS.
When my holiday in Norway came to an end, I was very sorry to pack up and come away. Even when I drove the last thirty miles in a cart to the railway I carried my rod in my hand, and when I saw a good-looking pool or run in a river—we were generally near a river—I stopped the cart for a few minutes and tried for a trout, and, what was more, I occasionally caught one!
[Illustration: NORWEGIAN SCOUTS WERE VERY LIVELY.]
At last I got back to Christiania and to proper clothes and clean hands—and I didn't like it a bit.
However, I was comforted by being told that the Boy Scouts wanted me to Inspect them, and I did so.
There was a parade of nearly eight hundred of them; fine, strapping, big lads they were, too, just like a lot of British boys, and dressed the same as us, and very lively and active.
[Illustration: THE NORWEGIAN FLAG. As you will see, it is something like the Union Jack.]
I had to present Colours to some of their troops, and their national flag is in some ways a little like our Union Jack. And I told them that they were as like British boys as their flag was like ours, and that their forefathers, the Norsemen, were mixed up with our forefathers in the old days, and I hoped that we would all be mixed together, in a friendly way, in these days—as brother Scouts.
* * * * *
THE SWEDES.
In England we are apt to look upon Norway and Sweden as almost one nation, but they are not so in reality. The Norwegians in the old, old days formed one nation with the Danes, but the Swedes have always been a separate nation which has never been under the rule of any other people. And they are very proud of this. So when I got amongst the Swedes, I found a totally different people, but they were equally kind and friendly to me, and they had an equally British-looking lot of Boy Scouts.
A large number of these had collected the day before I was to review them in Stockholm, and were camped there. So I went and saw them overnight in camp, and found them round their camp-fires, cooking their suppers, as jolly as sandboys. If they could do nothing else, they could, at any rates cook their food very well.
But they could do other things, too, as they proved next day at the
Rally.
This took place on a big open sports ground.
The Crown Prince and Princess of Sweden were there to see them (the
Crown Princess is the daughter of H.R.H. the Duke of Connaught, our
President). Their Royal Highnesses are tremendously interested in the
Scouts, and watched all that they did most keenly.
[Illustration: A SWEDISH BOY SCOUT AT THE RALLY.]
I heard many reports of the good work done by Swedish Scouts. Here is one:
A poorly-paid working man in Gothenburg found himself in great difficulties recently through his wife and two children being suddenly taken ill with diphtheria and removed to the hospital. He himself had to go to his work at the factory all day, but he had one of the children left on his hands, as well as the home to look after.
He got the wife of one of his neighbours to do this for one day; the next he came back home during the dinner-hour to see how things were going on, and he found his home all cleaned and tidied up, and a strange boy sitting on the floor playing with his child, while another was still finishing the cleaning-up work.
When he asked who they were, they explained that they were Boy Scouts, and, having heard that he was wanting help in his home, they had come to give it.
You can imagine how grateful he was, especially as the Scouts kept on at the work for over two weeks until the mother had got well and returned to take charge.
One of those boys was the son of a rich man, while the other, his comrade, was quite a poor lad.
* * * * *
THE DANES.
In Denmark the Boy Scouts are strong in numbers and keen and good at their work. Those of Copenhagen gave a Rally in my honour, and twenty troops paraded and gave very good shows of scout work, each troop doing its own in turn. They seemed very good, especially in their cooking.
There were two very smart troops of Girl Guides also present at the parade, who cooked, too.
[Illustration: AVENUE OF CROSSED STAVES. Formed by Boy Scouts and Girl
Guides at Copenhagen. I drove through it in a motor-car.]
The consequence was that when I began tasting some of their good dishes, I had to go and taste all, so that when the time came for the official dinner I had to attend in the evening I was already so "crowded" that I could not eat any of it!
When I drove away from the parade-ground after it was over, the Scouts and the Girl Guides made an avenue, crossing their staves overhead, through which I drove in my motor-car.
In Copenhagen, the Town Hall is the great "thing" to see. It is quite modern, only lately built, and is a magnificent building. One of the features about it is the lifts, which keep running slowly up and down. They have no attendants in them. You simply have to jump in or out fairly quickly. I saw one stout old lady come and look at the lift. She did not seem to like trying to jump in, but there seemed no way for getting it to stop for a minute; she looked helplessly around; then she had another look at it. The more she looked the less she liked it, and finally she gave up the idea of visiting the upper floors of the building, and went sorrowfully away.
[Illustration: The lift in the Town Hall at Copenhagen is a continuous moving one—you have to jump in or out of it pretty smartly. Old Lady: "Shall I venture?">[
The Scouts in Copenhagen have been trained in first aid work by a
First Aid Corps which exists in that city.
The Danish First Aid Corps is very much like our Fire Brigade. At the first aid station are motor-cars fitted up with things needed for almost every kind of accident, and they are ready to turn out at any moment that their services may be required. Their office is on the telephone with every police station, and when they get a call to an accident, the motor, with all appliances, leaves the station within thirty seconds of the alarm.
When I was there the alarm came that a man had been run over by a tramcar in Market Street. In a few moments a motor lorry ran out of the station equipped with lifting jacks and levers to raise the tramcar, while a second followed it immediately with stretcher and first aid appliances for the injured man.
In the station were kept all the things necessary for dealing with railway accidents, for rescuing people overcome with gas, for saving people in the water, and for pumping air into them when apparently drowned; there were derricks for raising fallen horses, and fire escapes of every kind. In fact, it was fitted up and manned by thirty men, all trained and prepared to deal with every kind of accident that could well happen.
Well, that's just what I should like to see done by Boy Scouts in our country towns and villages. They might make their club-room a first aid station, with as many appliances they could get together in the shape of bicycles, hand-carts, ladders, jumping-sheets, stretchers, bandages, spare harness, and with every Scout trained to deal with every kind of accident, or to form fence while others rendered first aid, and so on.
There might be some way of sending round or sounding the "alarm" when an accident was reported, to bring together in a few minutes the patrol whose turn it was for duty.
In this way Scouts would do most valuable work.
* * * * *
THE DUTCH SCOUTS.
Then I went to Holland, where I saw plenty more Scouts, both at Amsterdam, Amersfoort, and The Hague; and fine, smart, clean-looking fellows they were, too.
[Illustration: Most of the Amsterdam Boy Scouts carry lassoes with which they are very handy.]
One thing which they did especially well was throwing the lasso. They all carried light cord-lassoes on them. These came in useful for hundreds of things, like making bridges, rope-ladders, rescuing people from burning houses, and so on. But the Scouts also used them for lassoing each other, and many of them were awfully good at it.
The Dutch Scouts also had an excellent stretcher, which I think would be very useful for some of our ambulance patrols. With its help, one Scout alone could take an injured man to hospital. In the first place, it was flat on the ground, without any feet to it, so the Scout could roll or drag his patient on to it.
[Illustration: THE DUTCH SCOUTS' STRETCHER.]
Then it had two pairs of canvas flaps, which could lace across the patient's chest and loins, with sort of pockets for his feet, so that after the patient had been fastened on to it he could, if necessary, be stood upright. This is sometimes useful in a narrow place like a tunnel or a mine or a passage. Then, with a short chain and hook to each corner, the stretcher was slung underneath a pair of wheels (a Scout's hand-cart would do equally well), and the Scout was able to wheel his patient away.
* * * * *
BELGIAN SCOUTS.
Before my visit to Belgium the Scouts there did grand work in helping the soldiers who had been sent to put out some forest fires. For several days the Scouts were camped with the soldiers.
They supplied a line of signalling posts, by which communication was kept up with the nearest telegraph offices.
They rendered first aid to a good number of soldiers who got slight injuries from burning or other accidents in fighting the flames. And also the Scouts did good work in keeping the soldiers supplied with water when it was most difficult to get.
When the campaign with the bush fires was over, the military commanding officer published his very sincere thanks and praise for the good work done by the Scouts.
The Belgian Scouts made a very good kind of hut for themselves. In the sketch below you see the framework of one hut, as well as the hut completed by being covered with turf sods, and a wickerwork door.
[Illustration: BELGIAN BOY SCOUTS' HUT. On the right is shown the framework.]
During the war, the Belgian Scouts have amply sustained the reputation won for the Belgians by the men in the fighting line. Indeed, many of the Scouts themselves, though boys, joined in the fighting. One boy, Leysen, alone, was decorated by King Albert for having captured no fewer than eleven spies, and for having accounted for one of the enemy with his own hand.
Two Belgian Scouts were captured by the Germans while observing their lines and executed; while a large number have been employed in the hospitals as orderlies, in addition to doing good work conveying rations to troops in outlying trenches.
On the occasion of one of my visits to the Front, I saw a smart troop of Belgian Scouts. It was a cyclist troop and the boys had offered their services at the outbreak of war for orderly duty to the military authorities at Antwerp. They continued their work in the retreat from that place to Dunkirk and to North France, afterwards being employed on regular pay by their Army Headquarters as orderlies.
I had the pleasure, too, of meeting the Chief Scout of Belgium, Dr. de Page, the director of a splendid hospital for Belgian soldiers given by the people of Great Britain. His three sons are Scouts, two of them serving in the Army, and the youngest doing his bit in the workshop attached to the hospital—where they make their own instruments, such as scalpels, scissors, etc.
Finally, I had an interview with King Albert of Belgium. He told me that "he considered the Movement one of the best steps of modern times for the education of the boy. His own son is an enthusiastic Scout, and the Belgian boys who had taken it up were quite changed for the better, and had done valuable service in the war. The war had been a high test for it, but had proved that our training gave the very best foundation for making good soldiers—by developing the right spirit and intelligence as well as physical strength and activity."
At the opening of the "Mercers' Arms" (the Hut for the use of our troops which is manned by Scoutmasters) a Guard of Honour was formed by a Calais Troop of French Boy Scouts under Scoutmaster Laut. These boys have been doing helpful service in the military hospitals. It was very pleasing indeed to see our international comradeship thus exemplified.
* * * * *
A TRIP TO ALGERIA
One January morning my wife and I sailed from Southampton for Algeria, on the north coast of Africa.
As we came into the Bay of Biscay, after leaving the English Channel, our ship got into a big swell, the seas rolling us heavily, and occasionally rushing over our bows in frothing green and clouds of spray.
After about twenty-four hours of rough weather we sighted Cape Finisterre—the first headland on the coast of Portugal, and not far from that we passed Corunna, where, during the Peninsular War in 1810, the British force under Sir John Moore successfully got away from a superior force of French, though losing their gallant commander in doing so.
The next important town on the coast is Vigo, and it was in Vigo Bay that Drake "singed the Spanish King's beard" by capturing and burning his fleet.
Also later, during the war of the Spanish Succession in 1702, an
Anglo-Dutch fleet under Admirals Rooke and Stanhope attacked the
Spanish "silver fleet" in Vigo Harbour, captured much treasure, and
sank many vessels.
Past the Torres Vedras. where Wellington successfully held off
Napoleon's army till his own was fit to take the field.
And near that is Oporto, where the port wine comes from, and which is well known to Britons as being the place where the Duke of Wellington defeated the French troops under Marshal Ney in the Peninsular War by crossing the River Douro unexpectedly—the French thinking it quite impassable by British troops,
We got into calmer water near the mouth, of the River Tagus, and here we saw the palace of our national guest, the young ex-King of Portugal, standing high up on a mountain peak above Cintra.
* * * * *
ALGIERS.
Continuing our voyage, we passed Trafalgar Bay and Gibraltar, where we reviewed some Scouts.
On arrival at Algiers, the chief seaport and capital of Algeria, the first thing that struck us was the strange mixture of people we met in the streets.
There were Arabs, in their flowing white garments, brushing shoulders with smartly dressed French officers and ladies, and picturesque native soldiers and Turks and Italian peasants all busy at their different pursuits.
Algiers is now a modern French town, though formerly it was the headquarters of the Algerian pirates. The native quarter of the city is still a network of narrow streets and alleys, made quite dark by the houses that almost meet overhead.
Above the town stands the old fortress, called the Casbah. This was the stronghold of the Turkish Corsairs and it was here that they kept the prisoners which they captured from various vessels at sea.
Those of the captives who were Christians they treated with unusual severity, and a large number of British sailors suffered torture at their hands.
We saw here a massive doorway with chains hanging festooned upon the upper part. This was called "the Gate of Pardon," because here the prisoner was given a chance of release.
He was made to run between two lines of soldiers armed with swords, all of whom cut at him as he ran by, and if he were able at the end of the course to spring up and catch hold of the chain he was allowed to go free. If he failed he had to run the gauntlet back again, and very few survived it.
[Illustration: THE GATE OF PARDON, ALGIERS.]
Another reminder of the Christian prisoners is to be seen in the chief mosque of the city. This was designed and built by these captives under the orders of their heathen masters. They naturally constructed it like one of our churches in the form of a cross. This was afterwards recognised by the Moors, and the church was used, but the builders were put to death for their temerity.
We can admire the bravery of these men, who, in spite of the danger of being killed for it, did their best to maintain their religion to the end.
* * * * *
CONSTANTINE.
A day's journey by train from Algiers, through country closely cultivated with vines and crops by the French colonists, and then through a mountainous district inhabited by the Kabyle tribes, brought us into Constantine.
This is a wonderful city perched on a high rock, and surrounded on three sides by a narrow gorge some 400 feet deep. It has been a fortress since ancient times; and holds the record for being besieged, having stood no fewer than eighty investments in its time.
On the last occasion it was held by the Arabs against the French, whose first attempt to take the place was defeated by the natives after a desperate fight. It looks practically impossible to capture the place, but for two years the French did not give up hope, continuing their efforts until in the end they were successful.
Like the Scouts they were not put off by very big difficulties, but pluckily stuck to it, and gained their end.
We visited here the French cavalry regiment, the 3rd Chasseurs d'Afrique. This regiment distinguished itself in the Crimea by supporting the charge of the British Light Brigade at Balaclava.
It dashed bravely into the batteries of Russian artillery, who were firing into the flanks of our force, and captured a number of their guns, and thus enabled the survivors of the charge to make their way back from the field.
The records of this exploit are still preserved in the regimental museum, or salle d'Honneur, as are also the trophies and memorials of other fine deeds performed by the regiment on active service.
Among these was an interesting letter written by an officer after he had been mortally wounded by a shot which shattered his jaw. It was his last message to the men of his squadron urging them to do their duty before all else, and saying he was proud to die in the cause of his Country.
* * * * *
A ROMAN HOUSE.
This portion of the Globe was once an important part of the Roman
Empire.
As every Scout knows this great nation penetrated as far north as the borders of Scotland, and ruled over England for nearly 400 years. They also held Germany, France, and Spain, and the larger portion of North Africa.
In the course of our travels in Algeria, we came across remains of the
Roman occupation, the finest of these being the ruins of the city of
Timgad.
These have been dug out of the sand, and preserved, so that it is now possible to walk through the paved streets and visit what were once the market place, theatre, bathing establishments, temples, public libraries, and private houses of people who lived there over 1800 years ago.
The usual Roman house consisted of a front hall leading into a central open-air courtyard, which was surrounded by a colonnade, and had a fountain or tank full of fish in the centre. Then leading out of this were the owner's study, sitting-room, bedrooms, dining-room, and a series of three bathrooms, one warm, the second hot, and the third cold.
The floors of the rooms were made of cement, upon which ornamental mosaic was inlaid, that is, a pattern made out of very small stones of different colours.
* * * * *
AN ARAB MARKET.
On arrival at Timgad my wife and I found the weekly Arab market in full swing.
[Illustration: AN ARAB TAKING A SHEEP HOME FROM MARKET.]
It is not in the least like an English market with its tidy pens of sheep and cattle and orderly arrangement of stalls, for this is a dense crowd of white-robed Arabs, in the midst of which camels and donkeys for sale stand about amongst tents full of clothes and corn and seed, and strips of hide for making shoes.
And here and there in the dust are dark men cooking and selling unappetising bits of meat and making black coffee, which is their only drink.
Towards evening the fair breaks up. Those who have bought corn load up great sacks of it upon their camels' backs.
The camel, as you know, squats down on the ground whilst its master loads it, and during the process looks round and gives out heartrending groans as if complaining at the excessive weight being put upon its back, but when the load is adjusted, the animal gets up and walks away quite contentedly.
The camel can travel long distances for days together without drinking fresh water, because his throat is fitted by Nature with bladders, which he fills with water before starting. When he feels thirsty, he ejects one of these out of his throat, and then drinks the water from it.
Others of the Arabs who have been attending the fair mount their mules or donkeys—often two of them on one mule—carrying their purchases with them, in some cases even carrying live sheep across their saddles. Many of them crowd into coaches to go home. These are rickety-looking boxes on wheels with roofs to them, drawn by six horses, which travel three abreast.
When they were all comfortably settled in one of these coaches ready for their journey, my wife stepped forward with her kodak to photograph them. In a moment they were tumbling out of their places, hurrying to get out of the range of the "Evil Eye"—for that is what they think the camera must be; they fear it may bring sickness or bad luck upon them.
* * * * *
THE SPAHIS.
While we were at Timgad a gaily coloured little band of mounted men came trailing across the plain, and finally made their halt close to us. They were a troop of "Spahis," or native cavalry of the French army in Algeria.
The men dress in Arab costume, with the white turban on their heads, a short red jacket, and baggy blue Turkish breeches with boots of red morocco leather. They also wear a huge red cloak in cold weather.
[Illustration: ASPAHI, OR NATIVE CAVALRYMAN OF THE FRENCH ARMY IN
ALGERIA.]
They are mounted on small grey Arab horses, and sit in a very high-peaked saddle, and the horses all wear blinkers. Altogether they make very picturesque soldiers, and at the same time are good riders and brave fighters.
* * * * *
A TRAMPING CAMP.
Prom Biskra on the Sahara we started' on a walking tour among the mountains of the desert.
We got a couple of tents, bedding, camp furniture, and food, and two mules to carry it all. We also got two Arabs to guide us and be generally useful. Their names were Rahmoun and Ibrahim.
Our preparations did not take us long, and we were soon camped out on the desert, far from other human habitations, in the glorious sunshine of North Africa.
At night, although the air was keen and cold, we had our beds put outside the tent in the open, and we slept under the stars.
The drawback to camping was the difficulty in getting fresh water and firewood. We generally carried bottles of fresh water with us, as even when we were able to find a trickle of water in a river-bed, it was frequently brackish or half salt.
[Illustration: "We were soon camped out on the desert, far from other human habitations, in the glorious sunshine of North Africa.">[
Then there were no trees or bushes with which to light our fire, so we had to collect the smallest sticks and straws to act as "punk" and loaded up any parched plants that we could find, and these, together with twigs and branches of little thorn tufts, enabled us to make a fire. It was not a big one, but then a Scout does not need a bonfire to cook his food.
* * * * *
A FORTIFIED FARM.
We left the railway to face the open stony desert and arid rocky mountains with the greatest keenness, in the bright sun and clear air of Southern Algeria.
The last bit of civilisation that we saw was a French. colonist's farm, fortified with a strong loopholed tower, in which the farmer and his family could take refuge and stand a siege if the Arabs should rise in rebellion.
These fortified farms are to be seen in many parts of Algeria, and are a sign, of the farmers Being Prepared for what is possible, though it may not be probable.
If our own people in South Africa had prepared their homesteads for defence in the same way against the Kaffirs, the Zulus, the Basutos, and the Matabele tribes, they would have saved themselves in very many cases from death at the hands of these savage warriors when they rose at different times in rebellion against the white men.
Any Boy Scout who goes later on to farm in an Oversea Dominion where there are fighting natives will do well to remember this, and to make one of his farm buildings defensible, so that it cannot be attacked or burnt by the enemy, and where he and his family can stand a siege of some weeks, having food, water, and ammunition always ready inside it.
This is Being Prepared, and not leaving things to chance.
* * * * *
CLIFF HOMES.
Our way next led us through a mighty gorge between the mountains. There were high, rocky cliffs on either side, and a stream running among the stones at the bottom of it.
This ravine we clambered through for five or six miles, passing on the way an Arab village of flat-roofed mud huts perched on the side of the cliffs like swallows' nests.
And not far from them were holes and caves in the cliffs in which some of the Arab tribes lived. Many of them were so difficult to get at that the inhabitants got to them by means of ropes lowered down over the edge of the cliff.
* * * * *
A MOUNTAIN OF SALT.
The Romans in the old days had marched, fought, and colonised all over
Algeria, and their doings have been recorded by their history writers.
One of these, Herodotus, has described how in one part of Algeria there were many wonders, such as springs of water in which the water came out boiling, donkeys which had horns like rams' horns on their heads, and lastly that there was a great mountain made of solid salt.
Of course, he got a good deal laughed at, and was entirely disbelieved by the Romans who stayed at home, but all the same his yarns were not far off the truth.
We ourselves were camped near one of the numerous hot springs in Algeria, Hammam Mousketine, it was called; clouds of steam used to rise from it always.
Also, we met many English sportsmen tramping and camping among the mountains in search of the "moufflon," a kind of mountain wild sheep, which, at a short distance, looks very like a donkey with big ram's horns on its head.
In the course of our tramp we paid a visit to the Salt Mountain, and found that Herodotus had told nothing more than the truth.
The mountain is about 900 feet high, and about three miles long, and consists of a jumble of crags and fissures, chiefly of yellow sandstone, in which are imbedded great blocks and sheets of salt.
The natives for miles round come with picks and mattocks, and cut as much of it as their donkeys can carry to market.
* * * * *
IN A GALE.
Our next march took us across endless dry water-courses with steep sides, which had to be clambered up and down under a hot sun.
There was no regular road, because every downfall of rain alters the course of the ravines. So we had to make the best of our way in the general direction of the place we were making for.
It is wonderful how easily you lose your direction when you get into a mass of ravines unless you notice carefully your bearings beforehand, and either make for some good landmark, such as a distant mountain peak, or else keep your direction by noticing the position of the sun.
In doing this, you must, of course, allow for the sun also changing his position in the sky as the hours pass by.
We used the sun to some extent this day, but after a time a cold breeze sprang up, and clouds began to gather, so that in a very little while the sky was overcast and the sun was no longer any guide.
Then came on a cold, cold wind, which got more bitter as we struggled against it.
But, cold as it was, I did not find that Scouts' kit was so cool as people try to make out; the wind certainly whistled about my knees, but I did not feel so very cold then.
We searched for some sort of sheltered place to pitch our tent, and found plenty of such in the dry bed of the river under the cliffs, which formed its banks, but we dared not use it, as rain clouds were banking up, and if heavy rain were to come the dry river bed would in a very short time be a raging torrent.
So we struggled on, and at last found a ledge among some rocks above the river bed, which just afforded room for our tent, and here we pitched it.
And only just in time, for before we had got it well up the rain began to come down, and continued to rattle on our canvas roof for the rest of the night.
But the storm had come with so little warning, and the wind had come before the rain, so we comforted ourselves with the Scouts' weather mottoes:—
"Long foretold, long last;
Short notice, soon past."
And
"When the wind's before the rain,
Soon you may make sail again;
When the rain's before the wind,
Then your sheets and halyards mind."
Sure enough, next morning the sky cleared, and a beautiful sunny day enabled us to carry out our next march in comfort.
* * * * *
ARABS' CANDLES.
Our next camp was a delightful one—in place of the open, dry, stormy desert, we found ourselves in groves of young palm trees on the river bank, with plenty of fresh water and plenty of firewood. So we were in luxury, and stayed two days in this spot to enjoy it to the full.
We had the additional fun here of catching fish in the river with a hook and line attached to a stick cut from an oleander bush. We found some worms in the irrigated garden, and thus we were able to fish and to catch a good number of barbel.
These made a great addition to our larder.
A very useful tip to know in Africa is that when all other wood is wet, dead palm branches will always light and burn well. They are most useful as torches in camp, and are nicknamed "Arabs' Candles."
* * * * *
A DRAGON'S LAIR.
We left our camp ground, with its palm trees down by the river, and with our tent and belongings packed on to two mules, and our two Arabs as guides, trekked across a wide, stony plain under a blazing hot sun.
Not a particle of shade the whole way, nor a drop of water; every footstep had to be picked among the loose, jagged stones, and our way was continually barred by deep, dry water-courses, which had to be carefully clambered into and scrambled out of.
It was a very trying day's march, but yet we enjoyed it.
The views of the mountains around us were splendid.
[Illustration: EL KANTARA]
We were marching parallel with the wonderful range which stands like a turreted wall between Algeria and the Sahara. It is so regular in its outline that it looks almost as if built by the hands of giants, and in the centre is a narrow, broken gap, El Kantara, through which run the road, the river, and the railway.
[Illustration: "THE TOOTH," or THE RED CASTLE MOUNTAIN.]
We passed on our way close under a solitary peak which stands out from the rest of the neighbouring mountains exactly in the likeness of a great red ruined castle, called by the Arabs "The Tooth."
Then we got into a deep ravine with red sandy cliffs on either side, and marching up its rocky bed we finally got in among the mountains, and there made our camp.
After getting our tent pitched, and while the men were finding firewood, my wife and I started a bit of engineering work in order to obtain a water supply.
We cleared out the little trickle of water which we found in the river bed, and digging a hollow in the sandy bed, we planted in it our india rubber bath, and diverted the trickle so that it ran into this, and so gave us a standing supply of clear water for our camp.
It was quite a triumph of engineering, though we got pretty wet and muddy in carrying it out.
Then we went exploring among the hills, following up our gorge. We soon found that it became a narrow fissure between the mountains, so narrow that the overhanging rocks often nearly touched each other high above our heads. It was a most weird place—exactly the sort of spot where one might expect a dragon to dwell.
* * * * *
ARAB POLITENESS.
A thing that strikes one about the Arabs is their politeness and readiness to do good turns.
Every Arab we met as we tramped across the plains greeted us with "good morning" in Arabic or French, and, though it must be a strange sight to them to see a white lady walking, and a man in shorts and shirt-sleeves (for I always wear the Scout kit for camping), they never showed undue curiosity, and never thought of jeering at us as I fear would be the case in many places in England.
[Illustration: AN ARAB TENT. The goatskin slung on a tripod is full of water for the use of the family.]
If they saw our mules in trouble, or found us pitching our camp, they were always ready to lend a hand without any idea of getting a reward or a tip for doing so.
They have a good deal of the Scout in them, and many tribes of them do not know what it is to live in a house-they are "nomads," that is, they are wanderers, and live always in tents, moving with their flocks and families from place to place where the grass gives the best pasture for their sheep and goats.
Their tents are large, low, widespread awnings of black or brown goats'-hair cloth, supported on numerous short poles.
The tent ropes stretch in various directions, and round the whole they put up a hedge or "zareeba" of thorn bushes to keep out the jackals, and to keep in their goats during the night.
In front of the tent hangs a goatskin slung on a tripod, and full of water for the use of the family.
Many Arabs are well behaved and hospitable to strangers. But all are not so polite: there are some tribes who are pretty cunning thieves. Our two Arabs always patrolled round our camp at night with loaded rifle and revolver to drive off any would-be robbers, and our mules were shackled up at night with "handcuffs" on their fetlocks, and these were locked to prevent them being stolen.
* * * * *
THE HOT SPRINGS OF HAMMAM MOUSKETINE.
The first thing one notices about the hot springs of Hammam Mousketine which I mentioned above, is clouds of steam coming up out of the bushes at different points. Here you will find water bubbling up out of the ground and through a small mound of hard white or yellow crust.
The water is boiling hot, and the crust is formed from salts and chemicals contained in the water drying on the surface.
There are about a dozen of these springs and a large number of cones or mounds which have been springs, and which have choked themselves up or run dry.
Half a dozen of these cones, of about ten feet high, stand together in a group, and the Arabs have a curious story about them, which I will tell you in the next paragraph. Also close by is a great waterfall about a hundred yards wide by fifty feet high, but all turned to stone by the same process.
* * * * *
THE ARAB MARRIAGE.
A rich Arab named Ali Cassam had a beautiful sister named Ourida.
Ali thought her the best woman in the world, and although she was his sister he determined to marry her.
Such a marriage is considered just as unholy by the Mohammedans as it is with us, and so everybody was against it. But Ali was great and powerful, and he thought that by making a magnificent show of it he would get over the feelings of those who said it was wrong.
[Illustration: The wedding party were all there in their places, but all were turned into stone.]
So a splendid feast was arranged, and the ceremony began on a very big scale.
The priest Abdallah undertook to carry out the religious part of it, and had just taken the first step in the marriage service of placing the bridegroom's hand on the bride's head when there was a tremendous flash of lightning, fire rushed out of the earth, the day was suddenly turned into night, and boiling water spouted up in all directions.
When the sun came out again the wedding party were all there in their places, but all were turned into stone, and the boiling water still bubbles up out of the earth round about them.
Personally I could not recognise exactly the actors in this drama; it needed a lot of imagination to believe that one mound represented Ali and another Ourida, while Abdallah was recognisable by his turban!
This was all that I saw of them.
* * * * *
A GOOD TURN TO A DONKEY.
Owing to the absence of roads in the country the Arabs do not use carts. All the carrying is done by camels, mules, or donkeys. The donkeys are the commonest, being the cheapest; and very patient, hard-working little servants they are.
On one of our tramps we came across an Arab standing very forlornly by his donkey, which had fallen down. There was the little beast lying on its side with its huge load of halfa grass partly across it, and the owner quite at a loss to know what to do. This "halfa" or "esparto" grass is collected by the Arabs on the mountain side, and brought down and sold to merchants to go and make paper in England. It weighs very heavy, which we soon found when we went to the assistance of the Arab, and lifted the load off the donkey. The little animal seemed in no hurry to rise from his comfortable position on the ground, and the Arab was proceeding with a big stick to hint to him that it was time to get up, when my wife intervened, and showed the Arab that this was no way to treat the good little beast.
[Illustration: 1. IN DISTRESS.]
Having induced him at last to rise, the load of grass was up-ended, the donkey put broadside on to it, and the burden was quickly hoisted on to its back again.
[Illustration: 2. ALL HANDS TO THE RESCUE.]
So we had been able to do a little good turn to the man, though the donkey did not probably appreciate it quite so much at first, but he did in the end, for as soon as his load was securely on his back the man started to whack him on along his road.
But again my wife put in a remonstrance, and the Arab, grasping her meaning, refrained from using his stick, and coming back to us he gave us each a hearty handshake, as if to show his gratitude for our help and his determination to treat his four-footed friend with greater kindness in the future.
[Illustration: 3. ALL PLEASED EXCEPT THE DONKEY.]
* * * * *
A CAMP INVENTION.
We were awfully sorry to finish our tramping camp. It was over much too soon, but in the short time that we were at it we picked up lots of health and enjoyment, and also a good many useful camp hints.
[Illustration: WHENEVER WE HAD A MOMENT TO SPARE SHE SET TO WORK TO
SCRUB THE SAUCEPAN.]
One of these—like so many great discoveries—was found by accident.
My wife, like a good Scout, kept everything very clean in camp, and our joke was that whenever there was a moment to spare she would set to work to scrub the saucepan. That seemed to be her favourite job, using a handful of sand and a twist of coarse grass, and the result was a bright, clean saucepan in which to cook our food.
A good deal of sickness comes in camps when dirty saucepans are used.
When she was not cleaning the saucepan her other spare minutes were spent in cleaning up the camp ground, and burning all scraps.
One morning when doing this she made the great discovery. It was this—how to make toast without a good fire. She had wrapped some unused slices of bread in some waste paper, and put the whole lot among the ashes of our palm-leaf fire in order to burn them.
The paper gradually charred and burnt itself away, and left the bread behind it nicely roasted into crisp brown toast!
* * * * *
TRUFFLE HUNTING.
Another tip which we learnt in camp was how to find truffles. These are a kind of root akin to a mushroom, which grow entirely underground. They are very nice to eat, and command a good price in the market.
In France the people find them with pigs; the pigs are able to scent them, and proceed to root them up with their snouts, when the man steps in and collars the truffle.
The Arabs showed us how to find them on the desert, where they are quite plentiful.
We had to examine the ground pretty carefully as we went along, and where we saw a few little cracks in the surface leading out from one centre where the earth bulged up a little—there we dug down two or three inches and found the truffle.
* * * * *
AN EX-BOY SCOUT.
At one railway station in Algeria we found a motor-car waiting to take us to our destination. The driver, unlike so many motor-car drivers, set to work to carry our luggage himself, and worked for us most willingly and well. He spoke English perfectly, with a South African accent.
We soon found that he came from the Transvaal, and had learnt his energetic helpfulness and courtesy through having been a Boy Scout in Johannesburg!
* * * * *
THE STORY OF THE SIWASH ROCK.
The story of the "Arab Marriage" reminds me of another legend about rocks, but this one was a Red Indian story about a rock in British Columbia, Canada.
The Arab story showed that the Arabs respect decent behaviour, and this one, on the opposite side of the world, shows that the Red Indians also give honour to manliness and purity.
[Illustration: TUNISIAN ARAB BOY WEARING A "CHEKIA" OR FEZ.]
[Illustration: TUNISIAN WOMAN OUT FOR A WALK—BLACK MASK AND ROOMY
"BAGS.">[
Just at the entrance to the harbour of Vancouver stands a solitary pinnacle of rock, straight and upright. It is called the Siwash Rock.
A young chief had made himself renowned for his wonderful courage in war and for his sense of duty to his tribe and to his religion, and for his courtesy to women.
He had married a wife, and when she was about to give birth to a child they did as laid down in the laws of the tribe, that is, they both bathed in the sea to be so clean that no wild animal should be able to scent them. This would ensure their child being clean in thought and deed.
The woman returned to their tent, but the young chief went on swimming to make sure that he should be clean and pure for the birth of his son.
While he swam a canoe came along with four giants in it. These shouted to him to get out of their way, but he only laughed back at them that he was swimming on important business.
But they shouted to him that he must cease swimming in the channel, as they were messengers of the great God, and that if he did not they would turn him into a fish, or a tree, or a stone.
[Illustration: A SPAHI (NATIVE CAVALRY SOLDIER) ADMIRED BY AN ABAB BOY
SCOUT OF THE FUTURE.]
But he only replied that he must be clean for the birth of his child, and therefore he meant to go on swimming, no matter what the risk was to him.
This quite nonplussed the giants.
They could not run him down, because if their canoe were to touch a human being their power over men would be lost.
Just then, when they were pausing, wondering what to do, they heard the cry of a baby come from the woods on the shore.
Then one of the giants stood up and chanted to the swimmer a message from the great God that, because he had bravely held out against all their threats in order that his child should be the son of a clean father, he should never die, but should remain for ever as a reminder to other warriors to do their duty, and to obey the law of the tribe. And his wife and child, too, should be for ever near him.
So the moment he touched the shore he became the great upright rock, now called the Siwash Rock. And a short distance from him, in the woods, are two more rocks, a big one and a little one beside it—his wife and child.
They are monuments to the Indian belief that those who do their duty in spite of any difficulty or danger are the best men and the greatest heroes.
* * * * *
TUNIS.
The Souks.
Perhaps you do not know what a "souk" is?
Imagine yourself in a long, narrow tunnel lit with skylights here and there, with small open shops along either side. That is what one of the "souks" or bazaars in Tunis is like.
There are miles of them, and they are generally crowded from end to end with the white-cloaked Arabs and shrouded figures of women with black masks over their faces, all busy shopping, buying or selling.
Each trade has a souk to itself. Thus, in one souk you will find nothing but shoemakers' shops one after another, in the next will be all coppersmiths, in another the cloth merchants, and so on.
There still stand the "Bardo" or Palace of the "Bey" or King of Tunis, and the "kasbah" or castle in which the Tunisian pirates of old days used to imprison the Christians whom they captured at sea; and there is still the old slave market where they used to sell them.
Many an English sailor has been lost for ever to his home and friends in that dismal place.
But on one occasion the prisoners got the better of their captors. As many as ten thousand of them had been collected, and they made a plan to escape, and, rising against their captors, they overwhelmed them by force of numbers and got away.
"Home, Sweet Home,"
An interesting spot in the city is the old Christian cemetery, in which lies buried the man who wrote the well-known song, "Home, Sweet Home." Most people think that it is an English song, but the composer was in reality an American—a clerk in the Consulate—named John Howard Payne.
* * * * *
CARTHAGE.
Close to Tunis is the site of Carthage, the capital of the great country of that name in North Africa.
There is very little to be seen of it to-day, for the city was destroyed by its enemies, and the stones were taken to build the present town of Tunis.
It was founded nearly 900 years before the time of Christ, and was for hundreds of years a powerful and prosperous country till 146 years before Christ, when it was conquered by the Romans, and the city was given over to the flames.
The city was at that time twelve miles round, and was defended by huge walls sixty feet high and thirty-three feet thick with rooms inside them. In the lower storey were stables for horses and elephants (of which there were 300), and the upper storey served as barracks for over 20,000 soldiers, who formed the garrison for defence of the city.
But very few of these soldiers were Carthaginians. The Carthaginian young men did not care about soldiering: they preferred to loaf about and do nothing but watch public games, and foreigners or poor men were hired to do the soldiering for the country.
The country was large and rich, and had many colonies oversea and plenty of ships.
It looked as though no enemy could ever arise to come and attack her.
But what seemed so unlikely actually happened in the end.
The Romans had no great fleet to speak of, but they had a fine army, and they meant business. They put their soldiers into crowded transports, and sailed across the short distance of ocean that lay between the two countries—not much farther than Hamburg in Germany is from Hull in Yorkshire.
Thus the country which, like Germany, had a fine, well-trained army, landed a force in Carthaginia, the country which, like Britain, had a great fleet and great colonies, but only a small army, and it smashed up the Carthaginians through their not Being Prepared for it.
Boar Hunting.
From Tunis one sees to the southward a mountain called Zaghouan. Though forty miles away it was from here that the Carthaginians got their water supply, and they conveyed it by a small canal, which they built all the way to Carthage.
[Illustration: You can imagine the fun of having a lot of wildly excited Arabs firing from the opposite side of the circle straight in your direction, with the animal in between you.]
That canal still serves to bring the water into Tunis, though it is now a good deal over two thousand years old!
I went to Zaghouan once to hunt wild boars. We got on that occasion a hyena. It was an exciting time when our Arab beaters, working in a big circle, gradually closed in on him from all sides.
It was exciting because every beater carried a gun, and every man meant having a shot at that hyena.
You can imagine the fun of having a lot of wildly excited Arabs firing from the opposite side of the circle straight in your direction at the animal in between you!
Fortunately on this occasion the first few shots killed him, and there were no other deaths to record.
The Arabs themselves see no special danger in it, because, they say, the guns are all pointing downwards at the animal, and if the bullet misses him it will only bury itself in the ground.
That is all very well, but it might as likely as not hit a stone and glance up again and catch one in the eye or elsewhere that might be unpleasant.
Personally, I did not hold with that kind of shooting, but the Arabs seemed to enjoy it so much and were so cheery and jolly over it that I, too, had to smile and look as if I liked it.
There is plenty of game near Tunis, and this day we saw two dead wild boars being brought in.
* * * * *
ELEPHANTS USED IN WAR.
In the old days, as I told you, Carthage was the London of that time, being a city of 700,000 inhabitants, and the capital of a great empire, which had overseas colonies in Spain, Corsica, and Sicily.
For a very long time it was at war with the Romans, who were the great military nation then, and at first the Carthaginians got the better of their adversaries.
One great help to them was their corps of elephants. These elephants had scythes fixed on to their tusks, so that when they charged they not only cut down the serried ranks of their enemies, but they also trampled them underfoot.
In their great fight outside Carthage, the army belonging to the Carthaginians under a Greek officer, Xanthippus, carried the day with a grand charge of elephants, and thus defeated and routed the Romans under Regulus.
Of the 20,000 men who formed the Roman force only 2000 escaped. Regulus and a number of his best officers were captured and held as prisoners of war for several years.
* * * * *
A BRAVE MAN FACES TORTURE.
As time went on, the Carthaginians tried to make peace, and they sent their prisoner, Regulus, over to Rome to persuade the Roman Government to come to terms. They made him promise on his word of honour that if he failed to bring about peace he would return again to Carthage, and become a prisoner once more.
When he got to Rome, instead of urging them to make peace, he told his countrymen to go on with the war.
The Roman Government were inclined to do this, but at the same time they saw that if they did, Regulus would probably be put to death by the Carthaginians for not having procured peace, so they did not know what to do.
Regulus, seeing their difficulty, told them that he was an old man and his life did not matter, and he pretended that he had already taken slow poison. So the Romans resolved to continue the war, and Regulus went back to Carthage, according to his promise, and gave himself up to the Carthaginians.
[Illustration: AN ARAB BOY AND HIS "MOKE.">[
You might think that they would have admired him for his courage and sense of honour, but the Carthaginians, as I told you, were a cowardly lot; they hired soldiers to do their fighting for them, and, like all cowards, they were cruel, too; so instead of respecting this plucky old Roman, they punished him by shutting him into a box lined with sharp spikes, so that he could get no rest nor sleep.
Then they cut off his eyelids, and took him out of his dark cell into the blazing sunlight, so that he was blinded, and finally they killed him by crucifying him.
Supposing that we were invaded by an enemy who had a strong army, and we had nothing but paid soldiers to defend ourselves with because our men were too cowardly or too unpatriotic to learn how to defend their homes. If such an enemy were to defeat our weak army, and then order us to destroy every house in London, how should we like it?
Should not we feel, like the Carthaginians, enraged with our Government who had not made the country strong, and also enraged with ourselves because we had not trained ourselves to defend our homes before it was too late?
The Carthaginians in despair sent more messengers to the Roman general at their gates, begging for thirty days' grace in which to make their arrangements, but the conquerors sent these men back with the order that the destruction of the city was to begin at once.
Then a change came over the Carthaginians. From a mob of despairing, panic-stricken wretches they organised themselves into a defence force. They barred the city gates, and started to make weapons to replace those which they had surrendered to their enemies.
Night and day they worked—men, women, and children. They manufactured daily 100 shields, 300 swords, 500 spears, and 1000 balls for their catapults, and the women cut off their hair and plaited it into ropes for the catapults.
* * * * *
A CATAPULT.
[Illustration: A CARTHAGINIAN CATAPULT.]
The catapult which the Carthaginians used was not the little implement that a boy uses nowadays; it was a big kind of windlass, by which a number of ropes were twisted up tightly till they acted as a spring to a strong wooden arm at the end of which was a leather cup. This held a stone about the size of a man's head.
When the spring was let go, this arm was flung violently forward, and the stone was thereby hurled into the air, and flew with great force for 400 or 500 yards.
The catapults served the purpose of artillery in those days when gunpowder had not been invented.
The Carthaginians, when a favourable wind blew, sent a lot of fire boats filled with faggots and tar to drift among the Roman fleet and burn their ships.
They also got together the wrecks of their own ships which had been smashed up by the enemy, and from them they built up others and sallied out of port in order to astonish the Romans.
But they did not make any bold attacks, consequently the Romans only sat tight and got reinforcements over, and in the end they attacked and forced their way into the city. There the fighting in the streets was very close and bitter.
For six days it went on, but the stern discipline and valour of the Romans gradually told, and very soon the whole city was in their hands. Fifty thousand inhabitants were allowed to escape, and the city was given over to the flames.
One lot of defenders the Romans refused to spare. Some 900 of them took refuge, and made a last stand, in the Temple of AEsculapius, and among them was the wife of Hasdrubal, the commander of the Carthaginians, and her two sons.
Hasdrubal himself saved his skin by surrendering to Scipio, the Roman commander, but his wife stood up on the temple, which was now on fire, and reviled him as a coward. Then she killed her two boys, and threw herself into the fire rather than give in to the Latin enemy.
* * * * *
MALTA.
A Home of Scouting.
Malta was a home of Scouting, since the Knights of St. John, who settled there after the Crusades, were typical Scouts.
They knew how to Be Prepared
I remember reading the diary of a traveller who visited Malta in their time—some three hundred years ago. He said that one morning a pirate ship was sighted off the island. The Grand Master at once ordered one of the fighting ships to get ready, and called upon the knights to man it. Any who desired to go were to parade in front of the Castile Palace (now the Mess house of the Royal Artillery). Some fifty or sixty would be sufficient, but instead of this over three hundred turned up on parade with their retainers and men-at-arms ready to start then and there.
In the Armoury can be seen among many others the suit of armour worn by the Grand Master Wignacourt.
One cannot but admire the beautiful fitting of the different folds of armour, made so that the arms and legs could be bent and yet thoroughly protected against wounds; also the whole is beautifully engraved with ornamental designs. Among these a quick-sighted Scout will at once notice the fleur-de-lys, or Scout's badge, on the breast.
* * * * *
NEVER SAY DIE.
The badge also occurs on another badge of the knights, that is, on the Maltese Cross, which all of them wore. This cross was eight-pointed in shape, and was originally derived from the skull and crossbones; it came from the crossbones, and served to remind the knights that it was their duty to fight to the death and never to give in.
[Illustration: A notice on the walls of the fortifications of Malta, where caper-plants grow plentifully, says: "No one is allowed to cut capers here except the Commanding Royal Engineer." This is how I picture him.]
Their motto might well have been that which the Boy Scouts use to-day: Never say die till you are dead—struggle on against any difficulty or danger, don't give in to it, and you will probably come out successful in the end.
* * * * *
THE MALTESE CROSS.
Most of the Oversea Scouts wear, in addition to the Scout's badge of the fleur-de-lys, the badge belonging to their country. For instance, the Canadian Scouts wear the maple leaf, and the New Zealanders wear a leaf of the tree fern.
If the Maltese Scouts want a badge of their own they could not do better than adopt the Maltese Cross of the knights, and then stick to, and act up to the meaning of it.
* * * * *
HOW MALTA CAME TO BE BRITISH.
When Napoleon was trying to conquer the whole of Europe a hundred years ago, he proceeded to take Malta.
But the Maltese people rose, and held the rest of the island against him, and sent and asked the British under Lord Nelson to come to their assistance.
This was promptly done, and the British Fleet laid siege to the French in Valetta, so that no supplies of food could be brought to the French, and some British troops were landed to help the Maltese.
Thus the French were defeated, and the Maltese handed themselves and their island over to become a colony of the British Empire.
One celebrated officer who largely helped to defeat the French in
Malta was Admiral Troubridge.
Someone was condoling with Nelson once on his losing his right arm in action. The gallant seaman replied cheerily:
"My good sir, I have got three right arms. Here is one (raising his left arm), and there are my other two (pointing to Capt. Ball and Capt. Troubridge)."
At the time of the British investment of the French in Malta, the Maltese themselves were suffering from famine, and their state was so deplorable, and the British authorities so slow to help them, that Commodore Troubridge could bear it no longer, and to ease their sufferings he caused some grain ships at Messina to be seized and brought to Malta and their contents to be given out to feed the starving people.
Commodore Troubridge began life as a ship's boy at fifteen, and rose from seaman to be an officer through his steady attention to his duty, so in all ways he was a good example for a Scout to follow.
Malta remains to-day a British colony, small in size—not much bigger than the Isle of Wight—but having a numerous population of people speaking their own language, and at the same time loyal to King George and the British Empire.
Malta is chiefly valuable as having a harbour, dockyard, and coal stores for our Mediterranean Fleet, and is therefore strongly fortified and garrisoned by British troops, both infantry and artillery.
The Maltese themselves supply some companies of Fortress Artillery and two battalions of Infantry Militia.
* * * * *
MALTESE BOY SCOUTS.
Now, also, they have their Boy Scouts, whom I saw during my visit.
For Sea Scouts it is an ideal place, with its fine harbours, and its coasts with their numerous creeks and landing places.
The warm climate also induces much to bathing, and the Maltese are naturally good swimmers and handy men in boats. Their boats are very graceful in shape; they are called "daisas," which is spelt "dghaisa," but I never could see the use of the letters "gh" in the word; it sounds all right without them.
[Illustration: A MALTESE "DGHAISA.">[
* * * * *
MY DGHAISA.
Long ago I was quartered in Malta for three years, and I greatly enjoyed my life there, especially the boating and the bathing.
After the South African War the people of Malta very kindly sent me a beautiful present, and, I suppose on account of my known love of boating, it took the form of a silver model of a sailing dghaisa. It was so accurately and carefully made that not only did it include oars and boat-hooks, etc., but even the thole-pins and the scoop for bailing out water.
I was, of course, delighted to see the place again after twenty years' absence, and to see so many of my old friends. Nothing seemed very much changed in all that time, except that the Boy Scouts had come into existence there as in every other important part of the British Empire.
* * * * *
SICILY.
Any boy who has read Marryat's Midshipman Easy will remember how that cheeky young Naval officer and a friend of his went for a spree in an Italian sailing boat from Malta to Sicily, which is eighty miles away, and how their spree turned into a pretty desperate adventure.
The boys were attacked by their boat's crew during the night, and they only saved themselves by using their pistols on the Italian desperadoes. They eventually landed on the Sicilian coast not far from Syracuse.
Anyone who has read Count Erbach's diary of his visit to Malta in the time of the Knights of St. John will remember his exciting experiences when, on leaving the island, for Sicily, the vessel in which he sailed had got within sight of Syracuse when a rakish-looking craft, which proved to be an Algerian pirate, ran out from under the land, and chased and captured his ship, and carried him off a prisoner to Tunis.
Going farther back, every boy who has read his Greek and Roman history knows how Syracuse was in ancient days one of the great war harbours of the Mediterranean.
It was the arsenal where fleets fitted out, and the depot where they brought back their booties of valuables and slaves after their victorious raids.
You may imagine, then, that it was interesting to us to steam into the beautiful bay on a calm, sunny morning, past the old fort which guards the entrance, and into the back of the island on which the town now stands.
All was looking sweet and peaceful where for hundreds of years had been the scene of strife and adventure. The Cathedral and Circus.
The walls of the cathedral are supported by immense columns, which, 500 years before Christ was born, formed the walls of the Temple of Jupiter.
Many are the signs of the Greek and Roman occupation of the place.
We visited the great open-air circus where gladiators used to fight each other to the death, and where slaves were given to lions to devour before the eager eyes of ten thousand spectators. The seats are still there, and the dungeons of the slaves, and the dens of the wild beasts.
* * * * *
THE EAR OF DIONYSIUS.
In the neighbourhood are the great quarries in which the slaves not only worked, but also lived. They were made to cut the walls so that they inclined inwards, and therefore could not be climbed.
The only entrance to the quarries was by ladder, so there was no escape for a man once he got in there.
There are huge caves cut in the walls of the quarries in which the slaves lived, and one of these caves has been cut into a narrow cleft exactly on the principle of the inside of your ear. So that anyone sitting at the top of the cleft can hear every word that is being spoken or even whispered in the cave below.
It is said that Dionysius, the ruler of Syracuse, had this made so that he could sit in the cleft (where there is a little chamber with private door) unknown to the people in the cave, and there he could overhear all that the prisoners talked about and plotted among themselves.
The whole cave is called "The Ear of Dionysius."
I remember a similar kind of "ear" in a natural cave in Matabeleland. It was here that one of the native sorcerers used to hide himself, and when he whispered through a crack in the rocks it could be heard all over the cave.
The people believed that it was the voice of a god speaking to them, so they used to come and pray to him for advice, and the old villain told them that they must rise up and murder all the white people, and their chief, Lobengula, who had long been dead, would come to life and lead them against their enemies once more.
He had nearly persuaded them to come out on the war-path, when Burnham, the American scout, made his way into the secret part of the cave and shot the supposed god while he was preaching murder.
* * * * *
CARTS IN SICILY.
A curious thing that strikes you in Sicily is the kind of cart and harness used by the country people.
[Illustration: A SICILIAN PAINTED CART AND DECORATED HARNESS.]
The cart is a light, two-wheeled affair of an ordinary kind, but every inch of it inside and out as far as the ends of the shafts and down the spokes of the wheels, is painted in gaudy colours, for the most part yellow, blue, red, and green.
Pictures of incidents in Bible history, of the war against the Turks in Tripoli, of ballet dancers, etc., are to be seen on most of these carts, while on others ornamental patterns only are painted.
Then the harness of the horse is of a very gaudy kind when new, but being largely made up of cheap gold braid and coloured cloth, it soon fades and looks tawdry.
* * * * *
A MUSICAL SADDLE.
In place of a bit there is a steel noseband on the horse's bridle by which he is driven and guided, and instead of the ordinary pad on the horse's back, a great ornamental brass affair is used.
Years ago I bought one of these pads and brought it home as a curiosity. A friend met me as I was bringing it along, and said:
"Hullo! what on earth is this? Surely it must be some sort of musical instrument. Look here! I am getting up a concert; you must bring your instrument and play it there. Will you?"
Of course, I always like to oblige a friend, and I did not like to disappoint this one, so I meekly promised.
I chose a beautiful piece of high-class music, and got the orchestra to practise it over as accompaniment to my instrument, the "sellura." I tuned it by winding the brass flags which adorn it.
I fingered the knobs up and down the front of it as if they were the notes; the big projections on either side I pulled as if to alter the tone.
And the music? Well, I got that out of a comb and paper affixed to the back, and into which I sang.
But, mixed up with the other instruments, it sounded all right, and I got lots of applause and lots of questions afterwards as to where you could buy these wonderful organs, and how long did it take one to learn to play them, and so on!
* * * * *
TAORMINA.
Six hundred feet up on a mountain spur overhanging the sea stands the little town of Taormina.
Long ago it was chosen as a beauty spot by the Romans and Greeks, and here they had their villas and baths and theatre.
The theatre stands to this day, in ruins, it is true, but sufficiently whole to show what an ancient theatre was like.
One can sit in the upper circle and look down upon the "pit" and "orchestra," and the marble pillars and wall which formed the back of the stage in those days in place of scenery.
But an earthquake has thrown down the greater part of the back wall, and has thereby opened up a beautiful view of the coast of blue water and white sand far below, and of the purple slopes and snowy crest of Mount Etna above—a scene such as no scene painter could have equalled.
[Illustration: THE THEATRE AT TAORMINA.]
Among the quaint and ancient buildings of the town stand the old monastery and church of San Domenico. The monastery is now the chief hotel, and with the splendid view from its windows and its pretty gardens makes a charming place to stay at in this most charming spot.
* * * * *
NAPLES. - VESUVIUS.
Naples is a city lying around a great bay on the Italian coast, and behind it, about ten miles distant, rises the double-peaked mountain, Vesuvius. Vesuvius is, as you know, a volcano and a thin cloud of smoke is always coming out of it.
When I visited Naples a few years ago, the mountain was shaped like this:
[Illustration: ]
Now it is like this
[Illustration: ]
It lost its peak in one night, and I was there the night that it happened.
I was sleeping peacefully in my hotel, when I was awakened in the middle of the night by heavy bangings, and it at once occurred to me that the artillery were firing guns in the street below my window.
I thought: "Hullo, here's a revolution or something going on," and I rushed out on to my balcony.
The street below was empty, but in other streets I could hear people calling to each other and crying out.
Then came more of the awful banging, like claps of thunder, all round.
Then there was suddenly a great blaze of red light up in the sky, and
I realised that Vesuvius was breaking out.
It was just like a fountain of fire squirting up, with volumes of smoke and steam above it all lit up with the glow, and round it jagged, white lightning kept blazing and darting about.
Soon the flames were dimmed, the whole outbreak became a dull glare, even the houses round us grew indistinct, and what seemed to be a regular London fog set in.
But it was not a fog; it was a cloud of light dust—the ashes from the volcano, which had begun to fall over Naples.
When daylight came you could no longer see the mountain, although you could hear it rumbling like thunder.
You could scarcely see across the street, so thick was the ash fog. The fine dust got into one's eyes and nose, and everything, indoors and out, was covered with a thick coating of grit.
At the foot of Vesuvius a great stream of red-hot lava mud slid down the mountain side, straight across fields and roads, and over farms and villages, slowly but steadily pushing its way, the country people fleeing before it with such of their property as they were able to bundle on to carts or carry away with them.
* * * * *
POMPEII.
But on the whole the people were not so frightened after the first outbreak as one might have expected.
Yet they had every reason to be, because near the mountain stand the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Pompeii, which was overwhelmed, not by lava, but by just such a fall of ashes from a great eruption of Vesuvius about thirty years after the death of Christ.
The ashes had fallen lightly at first, but so thickly that in a very short space of time the whole city was buried under tons of it, and the people were crushed or suffocated in their homes.
You will find the whole story of it in the novel called The Last Days of Pompeii, but if you ever go to Pompeii the ruins which have been dug out tell their own story better than any book can do.
You walk through silent streets of beautifully decorated houses, of shops, theatres, and baths; the pavement is scored with the wheelmarks of the chariots, and in some of the houses the skeletons of the inhabitants are still to be seen.
* * * * *
BOY SCOUTS OF NAPLES.
To-day the whole country around the foot of the mountain is thickly populated, and towns and villages stand on the slopes of Vesuvius as if there were no danger of his ever breaking out again.
And Naples itself is a great, flourishing city with big factories, and a busy seaport where ships of every nation congregate.
And last, but not least, it has its Boy Scouts.
They are Italian boys, but they dress and work just the same as their British brothers. They have done a lot of camping out, and are all very good at cooking their grub. And also they do a bit of sea scouting in the splendid harbour and bay of Naples.