VoL. XXII, No. 9 
WASHINGTON 
SEPTEMBER, LOM 
THE MOLE MEN: AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
BReOGCODY TES OF SOU THERN TUNISIA 
By Frank Epwarp JouHNson 
HEN the cadi’s letter reached 
me in Norwich, Connecticut, 
early last December, I little 
tealized what I was to see on accepting 
his kind invitation to come and visit him 
at Foum ‘Tatahouine, in the extreme 
southern part of Tunisia. He wrote, 
“What you have said in your lectures 
about the Troglodytes is very true and 
interesting, but you have not seen the 
highest types of our mountaineers. I 
myself own one of these mountain caves, 
and my pleasure is great when I can flee 
away from the noise and complaints of 
my tribunal and seek the quiet of my 
Troglodyte home, which is warm in win- 
ter and cool in summer.” 
The cadi and I had become firm 
friends during a trip to Tripoli, of Bar- 
bary, in the spring of 1910. The bound- 
ary between Tripoli and Tunisia was 
being settled, and the cadi was one of 
the commissioners sent by the French 
government. He is a full-blooded Trog- 
lodyte. 
In certain parts of Tripoli Jews dwell 
in caves and holes in the earth, but they 
are not the original Troglodytes and do 
not date back many centuries. 
In the island of Grand Canary there 
are colonies of cave-dwellers living in 
-caves dug in the cliffs; they are descend- 
ants of the Guanchos, and they are fierce 
and curious. I rode out on horseback to 
see them. Again, in France and Spain 
there are people that live in caves. To 
my great surprise | found that in Wash- 
ington, D. C., they call the old families 
in certain streets cave-dwellers, and they 
were so charming that it was with great 
difficulty that I tore myself away to start 
off on my long journey to Tunisia en 
route to study the Troglodytes of ex- 
treme southern Tunisia. 
The steamers of the Compagnie To- 
nache sail once a week (Fridays) from 
Tunis for Tripoli, of Barbary, and inter- 
mediate ports; so one Friday night about 
8 o'clock we steamed slowly down the 
canal from Tunis to La Goulette and 
around Cape Bon on the good ship 
Djurjura. My welcome on board was a 
warm one, for the last time I traveled 
on that steamer was after the attack on 
me in the streets of Tripoli, and every 
one, from the captain down to the cabin 
boy, was most kind and attentive. The 
captains of this line are well-read, enter- 
taining men and excellent seamen. 
About 6 o’clock Saturday morning we 
dropped anchor in the quaint little town 
of Sousse, known as Hadremuntum in 
the days of Rome. The Arab town is 
well worth a visit, and so are the cata- 
