328 FROM NORTH POLE TO EQUATOR. 



Barren, pitifully barren is the desert, but it is not dead not, at 

 least, to those who have eyes to see its life. Whoever looks with a 

 dull eye sees nothing but sandy plains and rocky cones, bare low 

 grounds and naked hills, may even overlook the sparse reed-like 

 grasses and shrubby trees of the deeper hollows, and the few 

 animals which occur here and there. But he who really wishes to 

 see can discover infinitely more. To the dull-eyed the desert is a 



land of horrors; they allow themselves to be so depressed by the 

 glowing heat of the day that the blissfulness of the night brings 

 them no comfort or strength; they ride into the desert trembling, 

 and leave it shuddering; their sensations are all for the terrible, 

 their feelings for the annoyances attendant on the journey; for the 

 infinite sublimity of the desert such hearts are too small. But 

 those who have really learned to know the desert judge otherwise. 



Barren the desert is, we confess, but it is riot dead. Thus, 

 although the general aspect is uniform, the nature of the surface 

 varies greatly. For wide stretches the desert is like a rocky sea, 



