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Our short mid-day halt was in a pleasant spot, under the shade of some very fine carob and olive trees, in view of a village with large quadrangular windowless buildings, that seemed to show that the mountaineers here are far better lodged than the people of the plain. The nearer hills, and one of the higher but nearer peaks, displayed long unbroken lines of escarpment, formed by the exposed edges of thick beds of rock (doubtless sandstone), of a deep red colour, indicated in the annexed plate. We here noticed the first indication of one prominent characteristic of the Great Atlas flora—the reappearance of many of the common field plants of Europe, which are not seen in the lower region. Among others, we gathered three species of Ranunculus (R. arvensis, R. parviflorus, and R. muricatus) beside our halting place.

We were soon again in the saddle, and every step as we advanced disclosed some new object of interest, either in the scenery that gradually opened before us, or in the vegetation close at hand. We passed close to a village where the demeanour of the people was more distinctly friendly than we had yet experienced since we landed at Tangier. The whole population—men, women unveiled, and children—turned out to see the cavalcade pass, and something approaching to a smile was seen on many a countenance. It appeared that the fame of Hooker’s skill as a hakim had travelled before us, and during the following days his patience was often tried by the numbers who flocked to consult him. In this and the other neighbouring valleys there are a good many Jews, who appear to find life among the Shelluhs less hard than among the Arabs of the plain. True to the instinct of race, they contrive to make a living as brokers, by conducting the sale of the surplus produce of the mountain country to Moorish traders, and the purchase of the grain, which must be brought from the low country for the subsistence of the people.

Some more fine plants were collected by the way. Among these were three species of Astragalus, one of them new, but nearly allied to A. narbonensis; and Atractylis macrophylla, of Desfontaines, a noble plant of the thistle tribe, much the most ornamental of the genus, reaching a height of three feet; but, as it flowers late, we saw only the withered heads of the previous year.

About 6 P.M. we reached the spot which was destined to be our head-quarters for several days. The site chosen was an olive grove, on a shelf of level ground about one hundred feet above the stream. The soil in the openings between the trees must have been lying fallow for some time, and was not so uncomfortably rough as the ploughed land on which we often had to pitch our tents. The two nearest villages are named Hasni and Tassghirt; but the former was taken by us as the name of the place that became to us a sort of temporary home. By the mean of four nearly concordant observations, compared with those at Mogador, the height of our camp was 4,205 feet (1,281·8 m.) above the sea.

By the time we were installed in our tents it was nearly dark, but a much longer delay occurred before the mona arrived from the neighbouring village. The interval was well employed in a negotiation with Si Hassan, the sheik of the valley, ending by an engagement on his part to conduct us on the following day ‘to the snow.’

With eager anticipation, we rose early on the morning of May 13, and soon made our arrangements for the day’s excursion. Abraham, with most of the escort, remained in charge of the camp, while three or four of the soldiers went with us, and Si Hassan with two or three wild-looking followers took charge of the expedition. During the past fortnight, our Mogador attendants, and especially Ambak, whose superior intelligence was conspicuous, had picked up enough of English to make the constant presence of a regular interpreter less necessary than it had been at first, though occasions were pretty frequent when the attempts at mutual understanding between us and the Shelluhs were evidently unsuccessful.

Immediately above our camp the valley narrows rapidly, and for some miles the torrent flows through a mere cleft with steeply sloping precipitous sides. To avoid this, the upward track ascends steeply for several hundred feet, and is then carried along the slope at a considerable height above the torrent. After suffering from the usual delays, we commenced the ascent about eight o’clock. The morning was bright, and the temperature delightful. The thermometer had fallen to 50° about sunrise, but during the day it stood some ten degrees higher in the shade in the middle part of the valley. To a party of naturalists it was tantalising work to ride along the rocky track, passing at every step objects of the greatest interest, yet unable to do more than snatch a fragment, or hastily drag up an imperfect specimen. The pace over the broken ground was necessarily slow, and it was easy for a man on foot to keep up with the horses; but then the temptation to linger by the way became irresistible. What botanist could be expected to pass by new and hitherto unseen forms of vegetable life without at least securing two or three specimens? As one or other of us yielded to the impulse, he was called to order by the cry of his companions, ‘We must lose no time—we must keep together’—and so reluctantly remounting, he was forced to keep time with our sheik guide, who led the way. At a point about four miles above our camp the valley opened a little, and near a village (Ouanzerout?) our track lay through a grove of large olive trees and then descended a little to cross the stream. We now found this an impetuous torrent, with a much greater body of water than it had showed where we crossed it the day before many miles lower down, and a rocky bed full of deep holes through which it was not quite easy to take our horses and mules.

Throughout the valley we were struck by the proofs of native industry and skill given by the numerous irrigation channels, such as one sees in Piedmont, and in the tributaries of the Rhone valley in Switzerland, sometimes cut along steep faces of rock, sometimes maintained by high terraced banks. Where the ground is favourable, walnut trees are often planted along these watercourses, and must largely contribute to the dietary of the inhabitants. It thus appears that the drainage of the Great Atlas is, in great part, absorbed by irrigation, even before the streams enter the low country, while a further portion is there taken up for the same purpose, and but a small percentage reaches the sea in ordinary weather. This helps to account for much that at first sight appears so strange in the hydrography of Marocco. A vast mountain region, fully exposed to the currents of saturated warm air from the Atlantic, sends but four rivers to the ocean from its northern and western flanks, in a coast line of over 400 miles from El Araisch to Cape Guer; and these, at ordinary times, are all easily fordable. But when rain falls on the mountains, the irrigation channels are speedily filled to the brim, and the entire surplus reaches the rivers, which are then said to rise ten or twelve feet in the course of as many hours. As bridges are unknown, the Moors speak of travellers being detained for many days before a flooded river channel, as a common occurrence.

Above the ford, the valley was again contracted to a mere gorge, and the narrow path mounts on its eastern flank, and winds along the extremely steep rugged slopes much after the fashion of some unfrequented valley of the Southern Alps. Although the sun was already high, the mountain rose so sheer upon our left that the shadow often gave welcome protection; and the track was so narrow in places that we were not free from anxiety for the baggage animals.