The dry bed of the torrent glows in hues of isabel and
cream, while its perpendicular mud-banks, on the further side, gleam like
precipices of amber; the soil at your feet is besprinkled with a profusion
of fair and fragile flowerlets.
Here stand, like sentinels at the end of all things living, the three or
four last, lonely palms--they and their fellows lower down are fed by a
silvery streamlet which is forced upwards, I suppose, by contact with
Professor Koken's conglomerate; above and below this oasis-region the
river-bed is generally dry. It must be a wonderful sight, however, when
the place is in flood--a deluge of liquid ooze careering madly southward
towards the dismal Chotts amid the crashing of stones and palm trees and
the collapse of banks. For the Oued Baiesh can be angry at times; in 1859
it submerged fifty hectares of the Gafsa gardens.
Instead of returning by the main road from Sidi Mansur, one can bend a
little to the right and so pass the military hospital, a large
establishment which looks as if it could be converted into a barrack in
case of need. This is as it should be.
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