We started from Zanfour at a quarter to five A.M., and reached Teboursouk at four P.M., a ride of thirty-eight miles, too far for one day, especially during such intense heat as we encountered.
After quitting the plateau of Zanfour we paid a visit to the tents of our friend Si Mohammed esh-Shabi. The good Sheikh was quite distressed that we would not spend a day at his encampment, or even alight to partake of his hospitality; but time was precious, so we contented ourselves with quaffing a lordly bowl of milk to his health, and he filled the haversacks of our escort with dates, bread and fresh cheese, the only luxuries of a portable nature that he possessed. He accompanied us several miles on our way, and we parted with, I hope, mutual feelings of goodwill and regret that our visit had been so short. His encampment did not materially differ from all other Arab villages, if so they may be called. It consisted of a circle of black tents, in the centre of which were the cattle, horses and mules of the family. The intervals between the tents were filled up with prickly brushwood; but the great protection of an Arab camp, which makes approach to it extremely dangerous to a stranger, is the cloud of yelping dogs which rush out from every direction, and can hardly be pacified by the utmost efforts of the owner. The tents are made of strips, sewn together, of black and brown woollen material like sacking, very open in texture, but perfectly impervious to the rain. The Arab knows nothing of the exigencies of fashion; he dresses as his forefathers have done for countless generations, and his tents are exactly the same as when they were described by Sallust as ‘oblonga, incurvis lateribus tectâ, quasi navium carinæ sunt.’[202]
We traversed the plain of Es-Sers from north-west to south-east, over soft springy meadow land, or amongst fields of corn, and crossing a low range of hills which bounds it, entered a valley scored in every direction with deep ravines, only just practicable for laden mules, and so descended into the plain of El-Gharfa. This is drained by a considerable river, the Oued Tessäa, which lower down becomes the Oued Khalad. It contains a small quantity of cultivated land, but much excellent pasturage. A considerable part of it is overgrown with a thick scrub of lentisk, once a favourite resort of brigands, but since the accession to power of the present Wuzir, General Kheir-ed-din, the roads in Tunis have become nearly as secure as those in Algeria.
The heat all day was insupportable; a strong sirocco, I will not say blew, but existed, for the worst siroccos are characterised by an utter absence of air in motion; the atmosphere is deprived of every particle of moisture, the sky is leaden, the mucous membranes of the body get parched, dry and incapable of relief by perspiration; everything one touches is hot and brittle, and the leaves of a book curl up and expand like those of a fan. It is no use to rest under the shade of a tree; the heat is not only in the direct rays of the sun, but everywhere; escape is hopeless and life is a burden.
About four miles before reaching Teboursouk we passed Ain Edjah, where is an interesting ruin, sometimes called Bordj Ibrahim, after a late Kaid of the Drid tribe, who built a stone house here, and surrounded it with a beautiful orchard of fruit trees.
The ruin was evidently a Roman fort, restored by the Byzantines, and converted into a fonduk, or wayside inn, by the Arabs. In some few places the original Roman foundations are still visible. Of the Byzantine restoration a great part of the wall of circumvallation remains; it was of a rectangular form, with square towers at the angles. In one of these the vaults which covered in the rooms on the ground floor and first storey still exist, as well as the stairs which conducted to the upper terrace. From the foundation of the eastern tower issues a beautiful spring, which waters the orchard below. This is the source of Edjah, which gives its name to the district. There is no doubt that this name is simply a corruption of the ancient one, Municipium Agbiensium, or Agbia, mentioned in the Tables of Peutinger. A short distance beyond, on the road to Teboursouk, we observed two milliary columns lying half buried in the earth, with their bases still in place close beside them. One was too deeply covered to permit us to see the inscription, and we had no instruments with which to dig it up. The other was only partly legible, the upper part of the inscription being much defaced by the action of weather. It has been recorded, both by Pelissier and Guerin.[203]
After a very fatiguing journey we reached Teboursouk, and were at once conducted to the house of the Khalifa. Our host was extremely courteous, but at first cool and reserved. He gave up one of the rooms in the ground-floor of his own house for our accommodation, and appropriated an empty building close by for the use of our attendants. He sent us our meals from his own kitchen, where certainly the art of cookery is thoroughly understood, and very soon, through the instrumentality of his son, a dear little fellow about four years old, to whom we presented a few trifles, and whose curiosity was insatiable, the good gentleman thawed considerably and our intercourse became more friendly and unrestrained.
The modern town is no exception to the general law, which seems to have doomed all Mohammedan cities to decay. Its situation is naturally most beautiful, being built on the slope of a hill which commands a valley of singular fertility, covered with groves of olives, and orchards of fruit trees; but the houses are half-ruinous, and the streets in a filthy and neglected condition.
Teboursouk, the ancient Thibursicum Bure, was so-called to distinguish the city of the pro-consular province from another of the same name in Numidia, Thibursicum Numidarum, the modern Khamisa.
Several bishops of this place are recorded, and one of them is mentioned by St. Augustine in his book Contra Cresconium.[204]