Dakota farmers' leader. (Canton, S.D.) 1890-19??, 1910-01-14

There is a Christmas which calls up
strange memories to me, writes a cor
respondent of the Montreal Star. l
spent it in the Great Oasis of the
Libyan Desert. It was full of marvels.
We Travelled on a railway that was not
yet open across a savage and IRE
clatmable Wilderness, which no trav-
eler had ven traversed before, save
painfully with six days journeying on
camel-back over plains strewn with
round boulders like ancient cannon
balls. over plains showed over with
alkali, over hummocks of golden sand,
over mountains scanned with terrific
gorges, over sheets of contorted black
rocks, like the lava fields of Mount
Etna, always without sign Of water.
always without sign of life. On the
plain behind the mountains as we
flew down the swift incline we saw
the faint green Of the Oasis, and when
we drew near it gave us the impress
sion of a MAJ tanning the wilderness
to grow low crops OF bearded wheat
and the bounteous berseem; not the
palm trees shading clear pools, which
were the GASES we dreamed of in our
childhood. And our party, it was so
familiar and SO unfamiliar-an Irish
girl n Rushbrooke, the s%un-baked
man In the government survey depart
ment who had surveyed the oasis
prior to sale. His Arab servant, al
ways in spotless white. was a picture.
We had an absurd dragoman, a little
Berberine, who wore a tarboosh and
bursting tennis shoes, a black frock
on US in the desert.
The idea of a rest-house had terri
ned my wife: it was really high up In
the scale Of hotels. 1t had a bathroom
and bedrooms, lofty and spacious, and
in the center quite a fine hall, bay
Widowed at one end. verandahed at
the other, and with wooden columns
up the center, where fifty sojourners
could take their meals and refuge
from the heat. 1t is easy to supple
ment bedrooms with tents, and all his
was built of mud-mud three feet
thick-its dark brown contrasted very
pleasantly with the fresh pine window
sashes and doors. There were no mos
Quitoes, SO we could fling our windows
wide to the lustrous skies. and hear
the night sounds OF Africa.
l was up in time to see the sunrise.
flooding with golden light the pale
green of the crops in front-crops at
Christmas!-wide stretches of desert
behind, and IN the horizon the tum-
hled sea OF mountains. the crest of
the desert we had crossed. The angry
grunt of a camel disturbed me. I went
through the hall, and there, in our
kitchen yard Of desert, were five tall
camels. objecting to lie down, as they
would presently object to get up.
Breakfast Yer. my wife, who looks
upon the camel as a wild beast, and
the managers wife and the lunch
soon flying up the line to the rest
house by the Temple Of Darius. pro-
PEELED by three stalwart Arabs in flut.
tering white robes, and the solemn
camel-mounting ceremony began.
AS we drew near Khargo, which
gives the oasis its modern name. we
saw high on our left the Roman fort
where the founder of the HISTORIANS
was an exile and a captive, and On the
sand hills to our right saw whole
streets of arcaded ancient Roman
tombs standing out noble on the rises,
like the tombs OF the Mamelukes at
Cairo, the most picturesque city Of
the dead among all the Roman ruins
OF the world. AS we rode up to them
we passed the camp of a scientific ex-
petition from an American university.
Their aims were very practical. The
tombs and mummies were nothing to
them-they were hunting for lost epls.
ties Of the early saints, for Christian
papyri, In fact. At the present mo-
ment they were cooking a Christmas
dinner in a much earlier rock tomb
Of pagan extraction. Being American,
their ides. Of Christmas was a tur.
key. tt sy were in the midst OF a
tragedy. The favorite gazelle, which
had new T seen a harsh look from man,
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