The chances of war separated us for a time from the Caid, but I heard of Siquot's return to France, where, oddly enough, his Paris friends, I am told, dubbed him with the nickname he had acquired in Africa. As for the German Lansquenet, after having marked every corner of the province of Oran with some trait of his courage, he was fortunate enough to escape safe and

*

*The Catalogue of the services of Caid Osman, which I have accidentally hit upon, are the best comment on what I have said of him.

Engaged at Mostaganem by General Lamoricière with the Spahis, October 2, 1841.

Mentioned in an order of the day to the army, by General Bugeaud, as having distinguished himself in the combat of Oued-Meoussa, 8th October, 1841. Had a horse killed under

him.

Mentioned with praise in the report of Gen. Bugeaud on the affair of Tegmaret, October 24th, 1841. Brigadier, 24th December, 1841.

Maréchal de Logis, March 23, 1842.

Mentioned in the report of Gen. Lamoricière for his brave conduct. Thegighest, December 18th, 1842.

Sub-Lieutenant, 22nd March, 1842.

Mentioned in the report of Gen. Tempoure, for his distinguished bravery in the combat of Oued-Mala, against SidiEmbarek, November 11th, 1843.

Mentioned in the report of Marshal Bugeaud, as having distinguished himself in the combat against the Marocains. Mentioned at the battle of Isly.

sound out of all dangers. When I saw him again in 1846, Tom, the horse, and the Chica formed, as formerly, all his family. Poor Chica! she had but one object of ambition in life; it was to wear a silk gown! In garrison, Tom was the chief purveyor of provisions. He and his master used to leave home at day-break, and not return till night, fatigued, but well content with a full game bag. The Chica, after singing to herself through her lonely day, would then lay the cloth, and the three friends sup quietly together.

A few months later, after an absence of three weeks, one of our squadrons, on visiting the advanced posts, re-entered Mascara. On our way to the Cavalry Barracks, we were a good deal surprised at seeing all the officers of the garrison assembled round the little house of the Caid; but when our mutual salutations and hand-shakings were over, we learnt that the Chica, the Caid's companion, and the friend of all, was dead.

The poor little woman had been a good while ill. The day before, however, she had risen from her bed. The weather was sunny and warm, and the air full of perfumes. "Chico," said she to the Caid, "give "give me your arm, I must look once more at the sun." After taking a few steps, the tears, as she beheld the budding leaves and the beauty

of the day, came into her eyes, and she was led back to her arm chair. "Ah, Chico," she exclaimed, sinking into it, "I am dying," and without agony, without convulsion, smiling still, with her eyes fixed upon the Caid, she expired.

Before we had moved on, the coffin was carried out of the house; all heads were uncovered; and we made part in the procession that followed it to the grave.

The cemetery of Mascara is situated in the midst of gardens. Olive plants and various other trees of larger growth, throw a shade of inexpressible peace and repose over the spot. The grave of the Chica had been hollowed under a fig-tree. The Spahis who carried the corpse stopped, and a circle was formed. Two soldiers of the engineer corps took the light bier, and lowered poor Chica into her last dwelling place. The Caid stood at the foot of the grave. A soldier handed him the handfull of earth; the rude hand of the Spahi trembled as he took it, and when it fell upon the coffin, making that dull, dead, mortal sound, the saddest upon earth, big tears, half suppressed, rolled from the eyes of the rough veteran.

From that day, Tom, whom the Chica loved, has been the only friend of the Caid.

172

THE DARHA.

THE BOU-MAZA.

"Health to you."

"Health and prosperity."

"May peace and blessing accompany your steps."

WHEN We had exhausted the interminable formularies of Arab politeness, we took our places on the cushions of the tent of Mustapha Ben-Dif, the leader of fifty native horsemen, who served as guides and couriers to the column of Mostaganem. The evening was fine, the air mild; a light land breeze wafted perfumes from the herbs and the flowers of the spring; the white woollen tent kept open in front by the support of long firelocks, gave a range to our view as far away as our biyouac, which was lighted up by the blue flames of the olive-wood, and gently hushed by the murmur of the sea against a wooded coast, about a quarter of a league distant.

It was here that we exchanged news with the companions of our various expeditions.

Mustapha-Ben-Dif might be thirty-five years of age. He was of the middle stature, broad and large shouldered; his restless animated features gave him, when in repose, some resemblance to a tiger watching its prey; on the slightest emotion, however, his brown eyes getting black, sparkled with sudden light, the blood rushed over their pupils, and the wild beast of combat and carnage woke up. Belonging to the Marghzen race of men, soldiers always at the disposition of any paymaster, be he Turk or Christian, Mustapha rendered us great services, and we always took pleasure in questioning him about the country, and in listening to his stories of past times. When therefore, in the month of April, 1845, the Mostaganem column, twelve hundred infantry, a battery of field pieces, and a squadron of the 4th chasseurs were marching upon Darha, there was joy in all our ranks on seeing Mustapha-Ben-Dif, followed by his well-known horsemen, in company with the chief of the Arab Bureau, the Commandant Bosquet.

We started at the time when the rains had set in, fearing we should meet with no resistThe hunt itself, however, would give us,

ance.