with Gafsa--Pierre Bordereau's "La Capsa ancienne: La Gafsa moderne"--and,
glancing over its pages as the train wound southwards along sterile
river-beds and across dusty highlands, I became interested in this place
of Gafsa, which seems to have had such a long and eventful history. Even
before arriving at the spot, I had come to the correct conclusion that it
must be worth more than a two days' visit.

The book opens thus: _One must reach Gafsa by way of Sfax._ Undoubtedly,
this was the right thing to do; all my fellow-travellers were agreed upon
that point; leaving Sfax by a night train, you arrive at Gafsa in the
early hours of the following morning.

One must reach Gafsa by way of Sfax....

But a fine spirit of northern independence prompted me to try an
alternative route. The time-table marked a newly opened line of railway
which runs directly inland from the port of Sousse; the distance to Gafsa
seemed shorter; the country was no doubt new and interesting. There was
the station of Feriana, for instance, celebrated for its Roman antiquities
and well worth a visit; I looked at the map and saw a broad road
connecting this place with Gafsa; visions of an evening ride across the
desert arose before my delighted imagination; instead of passing the night
in an uncomfortable train, I should be already ensconced at a luxurious
table d'hote, and so to bed.

The gods willed otherwise.

In pitch darkness, at the inhuman hour of 5.55 a.m., the train crept out
of Sousse: sixteen miles an hour is its prescribed pace. The weather grew
sensibly colder as we rose into the uplands, a stricken region, tree-less