Travels in the Atlas and southern MoroccoA narrative of exploration . rushed to grab hold of the pack, the legs, or thetail of the unfortunate animal, to assist in preventinga disastrous catastrophe. Everybody screamed outorders or cursed and swore. Some dusted the mulesbide, or overwhelmed it with such names as pig, dog,Jew, Christian, infidel, or other equally opprobrious epi-thets, in the midst of which pandemonium of voices thedownward progress of the mule was generally these occasions, however, it was a constant marvelto me that a single tail was left to adorn the
Travels in the Atlas and southern MoroccoA narrative of exploration . rushed to grab hold of the pack, the legs, or thetail of the unfortunate animal, to assist in preventinga disastrous catastrophe. Everybody screamed outorders or cursed and swore. Some dusted the mulesbide, or overwhelmed it with such names as pig, dog,Jew, Christian, infidel, or other equally opprobrious epi-thets, in the midst of which pandemonium of voices thedownward progress of the mule was generally these occasions, however, it was a constant marvelto me that a single tail was left to adorn the bodies ofour animals, so terrible was the unwonted strain putupon them by the combined weight of two or threemen. If Tam-o-Shanter had been mounted on aMoorish, mule instead of his auld mare Meg, on theoccasion of his memorable ride, he would never, Imake bold to say, have crossed the keystone of theBridge of Ayr. With our arrival at the bottom of the mountain ourpath became easier, and as we neared our destination,the misgivings which had pestered us since we left. ACROSS run tizi-n-teluet. 215 Tezert came upon us with renewed force. We triedto be liopeful, but it was liard work, and we more oftenpictured ourselves returning over the pass than ventur-ing further afiekl. We rounded a hill of basalt, and crossed severalhillocks and mound-like ridges formed of undoubtedglacial debris. The country we traversed was stony,and its fertility more forced than natural. Suddenly,on turning the end of a ridge, we found ourselves con-fronted with a magnificent and imposing castle of theold baronial style. Tlie battled towers, the donjon keep,Tlie loophole grates, Mhere captives weep,Tlie flanking walls that round it sweep,In yellow lustre shone. We could hardly believe our eyes as we scanned theturreted walls, the crenelated battlements, the fortifiedgateways and outer lines, which rose before us withsuch a princely air of military strength and glory, inkeeping with the stern grandeur of f
Size: 1258px × 1985px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorthomsonjoseph18581895, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880
