HUTS IN THE VILLAGE. 
71 
oasis. I observed an old woman reaping, and went 
to chat with her. Her sickle had a long handle, 
and the blade itself was narrow, but slightly bent 
and somewhat serrated. I tried it, and found that 
it answered its purpose very well, however rude in 
appearance. 
I entered one of the huts made of palm-branches, 
and carelessly smeared with mud — an attempt at 
plastering that can hardly be called successful. The 
door was formed of rough planks of date-wood, 
and the flooring of hard-trodden earth, covered with 
mats. The principal article of furniture was, as 
usual, the small hand corn-mill, for nearly every 
person in the East is still his own miller. The huts, 
though rude in outward appearance, were dark, 
cool, and comfortable within. In the town itself, 
many of them are built entirely of mud ; that is to say, 
of round mud balls, first moistened with water, and 
then dried in the sun. I entered several, and found 
that most were empty. Where we found people, 
they were courteous and cheerful in manners, and 
smiled at the curiosity with which I lifted up the 
wicker covers of their pots and jars. In one I found 
a little sour milk; in another, some bazeen; in an- 
other, a few dates soaking in water. A small vessel 
now and then occurred, full of oil ; but this is the 
greatest luxury they possess. 
None of the doors has either lock or key. The 
Fezzanee observed, " Strangers may steal, but Fez- 
zanees never. All the dates remain securely on the 
