blocks a foot and a half square. We could trace also the imperfect
letters of a Latin inscription, together with some Berber characters.
The houses of the present inhabitants are formed of rough blocks of
limestone mixed with mud, and roofed with palm-trunks and palm-trees.
The water resembles that of the well of Tabooneeah, coming "from the
same rock," as the people say: it is slightly bitter and saltish.

With the exception of the little valley we had crossed, nothing could be
seen from Ghareeah but a dreary waste, especially to the south and east.
A tower of modern date rises to the east, on a solitary rock; and we
knew that Eastern Ghareeah was concealed among the hills at a distance
of six hours. The inhabitants of these secluded towns are called
Waringab, and promise shortly to become extinct. In this Western
Ghareeah there are twenty heads of families, but very few
children,--scarce sixty souls altogether; and the population of the
other place, which gives itself airs of metropolitan importance, is not
more than double. How they have not abandoned the place long ago to
jackals and hawks is a mystery. They do not possess a single camel; only
two or three asses and some flocks of sheep; and depend, in a great
measure, on chance profits from caravans, for their valley often only
affords provision for a couple of months or so. At intervals, it is
true, when there has been much rain, they sell barley in the
neighbouring valleys; but this season has been a dry one, and the crop
has consequently fallen short. When they have no barley, they say, they
eat dates; and when the dates are out, they fast--a long, continual
fast--and famine takes them off one by one. The melancholy remnant
preserve traditions of prosperity in comparatively recent times.
Notwithstanding their miserable condition, however, these wretched
people are drained by taxation of thirty mahboubs per annum--so many
drops of blood! The eastern village pays in proportion. Possibly in a