among the vegetable than with the human part of the inhabitants.

What more amiable example of give-and-take than the intertwining of birch
and orange, the thin ghostly sprays of the hyperborean caressing the
fragrant leaf and golden globes of the sub-tropical? This, and other
conjunctions less eloquent of contrast, may be seen on the headland of
Zeffoun or Cape Corbelin. They stand out from a prevailing background of
the familiar forest trees of temperate Europe and America--the ash, elm,
beech, oak, fir and walnut. The orchards, above those of oranges and
lemons, are of figs and olives. The cork-oak covers considerable tracts,
but is less attended to than in Spain. A non-European aspect is imparted by
the tufts of cactus and aloes which abound in the most arid localities.

[Illustration: THE DJURJURA RANGE.]

Wherever intelligent farming is met with in Northern Africa it is a safe
assertion that the Kabyles are either on the spot or not far off. Like
other farmers, they are conservative and adhere to old rules or fancies,
which in some cases verge upon superstition. The practice of fertilizing
fig trees by hanging them with fruits of the wild fig is one of those which
it is difficult to class--whether with the visionary or the practical. Be
that as it may, people who know nothing about figs except to eat them have
no right to a say in the matter. Tradition and experience are in favor of
the Kabyle. He does what has been done since Aristotle, Theophrastus and
Pliny, all of whom insist on "caprification" as essential to a large crop
of figs adapted to drying. He will go or send many miles to procure the
wild fruit if it does not grow in his neighborhood, and the traffic in it
reaches a value of some thousands of dollars annually, trains of thirty,
fifty and sixty mule-loads passing from one tribe to another. As with other
valuable things, this inedible fruit is food for quarrelling. The tribe