File:The gateway to the Sahara; observations and experiences in Tripoli (1909) (14784867015).jpg

Identifier: gatewaytosaharao00furl (find matches)
Title: The gateway to the Sahara; observations and experiences in Tripoli
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors: Furlong, Charles Wellington, 1874-
Subjects: Tripoli (Libya) -- Description and travel
Publisher: New York : C. Scribner's sons
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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ost a day it cut off traffic along the maincaravan road as it led into Tripoli. Greatcrowds gathered along its banks and on the roofsof the neighboring houses. The next daymuffled figures searched amongst the debris inthe gully for their lost ones and property. Often under the blue-green of African nightsI would sit in my window, whose broad stoneledge still held the heat of the departed day, andlisten in undisturbed reverie to the night soundsof the Arab city, sounds among which the rumbleof. traffic was conspicuously absent, soundswhich took on a personal element—the softscuff of feet; the prayer calls of Muezzins; far-off cries, voices of an almost forgotten people.From under the palms far out beyond the town,the hoarse bark of a wolf-hound drifts in, aspatrolling the mud walls of his masters gardenshe warns away marauders. Though early even-ing, the Arbar-Arsat is almost deserted. A low,sustained whistle, then down in the dark shadowa dusky figure moves noiselessly by. Soon (24)
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TOWN SCENES AND INCIDENTS another whistle from the direction in which hehas gone, and I know a second night watchmanhas passed him along. Thus to a certain extentdoes Tripoli protect or watch her inhabitants,who for good or ill may have occasion to tracetheir way at night through her dangerous, tor-tuous streets. Drifting over the housetops come waveringpulsations of sound. Then from some distantquarter they take form, and the wild beat of thetom-toms, strangely suggestive of the great ele-mental nature, heat, and passion of the drowsyand fanatical East, throbs its way nearer andnearer through the maze of dark and desertedstreets. Now the long-sustained or rippling res-onant notes of the oboes and thrumming gim-brehs are discernible. Lu-lu-lu-lu! ring outthe shrill voices of women; clash! go the steelcymbals, and a wedding procession turns into theArbar-Arsat. A yelling runner on ahead passes under mywindow, then in irregular march the processionitself. First, bearers of lanterns of c

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