Biskra, The Ziban Queen 



563 



dents from many other countries. Sci- 

 entific men have come to regard the 

 biological station as one of the most im- 

 portant fields of original research, for 

 from the study of the elementary cellular 

 creatures of the ocean it is expected that 

 the baffling enigma of the origin of life 

 may at length receive enlightenment. 



As the result of the survey, a wonder- 

 ful collection of ethnological specimens 

 will also be assembled in Honolulu. The 

 disposition of these among the various 

 institutions of the world which collab- 

 orate in the undertaking will be an im- 

 portant consideration. The main collec- 

 tion should, however, be retained to aug- 

 ment the already goodly collection of the 

 celebrated Bishop Museum. 



As time goes on and when the whole 

 series of establishments are in operation, 



Honolulu .will rank among the foremost 

 centers of scientific research. The an- 

 tiquarian, the ethnologist, the zoologist, 

 and the botanist will look to the Ha- 

 waiian Islands as preserving the record 

 of many of the most interesting objects 

 of their various departments of learning. 

 It is anticipated that when the estab- 

 lishment of the Pacific Scientific Institu- 

 tion becomes known, many patrons of 

 science will avail themselves of the op- 

 portunity of contributing to an undertak- 

 ing which will so greatly benefit our race. 

 The manner in which the Institution has 

 been incorporated and the trustees under 

 whose administration it has been placed 

 assure us that the long-delayed work of 

 Pacific exploration will shortly be com- 

 menced. 



BISKRA, THE ZIBAN QUEEN 



By Mrs George C. Bosson, Jr. 



The photographs accompanying this article zvere sent to this Magazine by Miss 

 Louise Coleman, those on pages 578 and 579 being taken by her, while the others 

 zvere purchased. 



TO the uninitiated, what vision 

 rises at the thought of an oasis 

 in Sahara? I confess that in 

 my mind there used to be the picture of 

 sparse grass struggling through smooth 

 yellow sand, a few tall, fronded palms, 

 a well and some camels, with burnoused 

 Arabs kneeling in the background against 

 a setting sun — a tout ensemble traceable, 

 doubtless, to a cut in some primary 

 geography. I know I never expected a 

 miniature city, with churches, clubs, mar- 

 kets, hotels, barracks, shops, with cafes- 

 chantants and wickedness sufficient to 

 have earned the sobriquet of "la petite 

 Paris" — on my word, no. I always had 

 a latent romantic leaning toward the bold 

 Bedouin and "king of the desert," and 

 to the desert we went to get a nearer 

 view. 



We had left behind us the snowy state- 



liness of the Atlas Mountains and the 

 Kabyle villages with their vivid impres- 

 sions of Eastern existence. We had 

 seen Jacob and Joseph, as one imagines 

 them to the life, Ruth in the fields and 

 Rebecca by the well, and a white-robed 

 patriarch coming down the mountains 

 with a light about his head as the sun's 

 last rays burst upon him, and in his arms 

 a petted, straying lamb. And as we sped 

 on in the twilight, the shepherds watch- 

 ing their flocks by night, "all seated on 

 the ground," and one shining star above, 

 made peace on earth seem nearer, though 

 in the world of telegrams and news- 

 papers which we had left far behind wars 

 and rumors of wars were cruel and rife. 

 At Setif, a French garrison village 

 high up in the mountains (Setif is at an 

 elevation of 3,700 feet), we spent the 

 last night before entering the desert, and 



