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T was almost impossible to take up a newspaper in Algiers, or to converse for five minutes in a café, or at the club, without the 'question Kabyle' cropping up in some paragraph or conversation. Every day there came contradictory news about the war, that it would really be over to-morrow or the next day, or the next week. It had lasted with more or less activity for thirty years, but now at last the smouldering embers seemed to be dying out.

The Djurjura mountains stretching eastward into Kabylia, which we knew so well in their peaceful aspect, with the sun shining upon their snow-clad summits from morning till night, were still the theatre of war. In the heart of the mountains, about sixty miles from Algiers, and at a height of nearly 3000 feet above the sea, the French army was busily engaged in building a fortress, in order to keep the Kabyles at bay and give protection to the colonists; and whilst this work was progressing with wonderful rapidity, the outposts of the army were carrying on a guerilla warfare with the unsubdued tribes. Their camps were pitched on the various heights, and the sound of the morning réveille was generally succeeded by the 'ping' of the rifle from some concealed Kabyles, and by a quick return volley from the French outposts.

We went to the Fort Napoleon at the invitation of some French officers, who, when they wrote to us, imagined (as all French people had imagined a hundred times before) that the war was over, and that it would be a good opportunity to visit the camp and the fort, in process of construction. * Two easy days' journey on horseback, halting for the night at a caravanserai called Les Issers, brought us to Tiziouzou, a small town and military depot on the borders of Kabylia, at the foot of the mountains, and but a few miles from the fort. At Les Issers we slept upon the ground, each man by the side of his own horse, as there was neither stabling nor sleeping accommodation to be had in the inn, which was crowded before we arrived, with troops and war matériel. To reach this, our first night's halting-place, we had had some rough riding, ending by fording in the evening, a rapid river which rose above the saddle-girths and nearly upset our active little horses. The night was starlight, and we lay down about fifty together, with fires burning in a circle round us, to prevent any surprise.

* General Randon laid the first stone of the Fort Napoléon
in June, 1857. This fort, which occupies an area of more
than twenty acres, and is built on most irregular ground,
was built in a few months.

The route from Les Issers to Tiziouzou was crowded with baggage-waggons sticking in the mud, and with immense droves of camels and donkeys, on their way to the fort. The late rains had almost obliterated the military road (which was said to extend all the way from Algiers to the Fort Napoléon), and in some places it was turned into a river. The greater part of our route had been wild and uncultivated, but as we came near to Tiziouzou and approached the mountains, every valley was luxuriant with vegetation, fig-trees and olives grew in abundance, the former of enormous size. But nearly every inhabitant was French, and we, who had come to sketch and to see the Kabyles, were as yet disappointed at finding none but French soldiers, European camp-followers, and camel-drivers, on the way; and when we arrived at Tiziouzou, we were so shut in by mountains on all sides, that even the heights of Beni-Raten were concealed from view. It was fortunate that we obtained the shelter of a little inn on the night of our arrival, for the rain fell steadily in sheets of water, until our wooden house was soaked through, and stood like an island in the midst of a lake.

We sent our horses back to Algiers, and carrying our own knapsacks, set off in the early morning to walk up to the fort. A lively cantinière (attached to a regiment of Zouaves camped near Tiziouzou) walked with us and led the way, past one or two half-deserted Kabyle villages, by a short cut to the camp. The military road by which the artillery had been brought up was about fifteen miles, but by taking the steeper paths, we must have reduced the distance by more than half. At one point of the way the bare mountain side was so steep and slippery with the late rain, that it was almost impossible to ascend it, but some Arabs, with an eye to business worthy of the western world, had stationed themselves here with their camels to drag up pedestrians; a camel's tail was let for two sous and was in great request. The latter part of the ascent was through forests, and groves of olive and cork trees, looking cool and grey amongst the mass of rich vegetation, through which we had sometimes to cut a path.

It was a wild walk, but our merry little cantinière was so active and entertaining that we, encumbered with knapsacks, had enough to do to keep up with her, and indeed to comprehend the rapid little French histories that she favoured us with. Every now and then we heard through the trees the strains of 'Partant pour la Syrie,' or the rattle of a regimental drum, and came suddenly upon working parties on the road, which the army boasts was made practicable in three months.

After about four hours' clambering, we again emerge upon the road, near the summit, and in a few minutes more, come in sight of the fort and the pretty white tents of the camps on the surrounding hills. Here we must pause a few minutes, to give a picture of the state of things at the 'Fort Napoléon,' a few weeks before our arrival. We are indebted to Lieut.-Col. Walmisley, one of our countrymen who accompanied the expedition, for the following graphic account of a sharp action with the Kabyles:—