DESERT JOURNEYS. 341 



and as the stars begin to twinkle and tremble, his thoughts become 

 dreams, and his eyes close in sleep. 



After the refreshment which the desert night brings both to 

 body and soul, the discomforts of the next day seem lighter, how- 

 ever much effort it may require to drink the water, which becomes 

 more vile every hour. Perfect rest, unclouded comfort is only to be 

 had at one of the desert wells. Always menaced by dearth of the 

 most essential necessaries of life, every desert journey is a ceaseless 

 anxiety, a restless hastening on; it is therefore entirely devoid of 

 that ease and comfort with which one would prefer to travel. 

 One day passes like another; each night, in favourable seasons at 

 least, is like that which I have described. But in the oasis, the day 

 becomes a holiday, the evening is a joyous festival, and the night 

 brings perfect rest. 



The essential condition for the formation of an oasis is a basin- 

 like or valley-like depression. Without a gushing spring, without 

 at least an artificial well, rich vegetation is impossible, and water is 

 found in the desert only on the lofty mountains or in the deepest 

 hollows. As the sea of sand is in so many respects the counterpart 

 of the ocean, so its oases are counterparts of islands, but they do not 

 rise above the surface, they are sunk beneath it. The water may 

 either rise in a visible spring, or it may be found at a slight depth 

 below the surface. Its abundance and its quality determine the 

 character of the oasis. In the minority the water is pure and cool, 

 but in most cases it is salt, ferruginous, or sulphurous, and on that 

 account probably very healthful. But it is by no means always 

 drinkable or conducive to fertility. Perhaps there is hardly one oasis 

 which produces fresh, green sward. And it is only in very favourable 

 places that the water is evident at all; in most cases it collects drop 

 by drop in clefts of the rock or in shafts which have been dug for 

 it; at times at least it has to be artificially forced. Even where the 

 water wells up copiously it would soon lose itself in the sand, if it 

 were not carefully collected and distributed. At the same time it 

 always evokes a refreshing life, doubly welcome amid such sterility. 



Around the spring, long before men appeared to take possession, 

 a company of green plants had effected settlement. Who can tell 



