After fifteen days of desert marching, the
sight of a well-cultivated garden was an Eden in our eyes. About
eight acres of land, on the margin of the river, were thickly
planted with lofty date groves, and shady citron and lemon trees,
beneath which we revelled in luxury on our Persian rugs, and
enjoyed complete rest after the fatigue of our long journey.
Countless birds were chirping and singing in the trees above us;
innumerable ring-doves were cooing in the shady palms; and the
sudden change from the dead sterility of the desert to the scene
of verdure and of life, produced an extraordinary effect upon the
spirits. What caused this curious transition? Why should this
charming oasis, teeming with vegetation and with life, be found
in the yellow, sandy desert? . . . Water had worked this change;
the spirit of the Nile, more potent than any genii of the Arabian
fables, had transformed the desert into a fruitful garden.
Halleem Effendi, the former Governor, had, many years ago,
planted this garden, irrigated by numerous water-wheels; and we
now enjoyed the fruits, and thanked Heaven for its greatest
blessings in that burning land, shade and cool water.
The tents were soon arranged, the camels were paid for and
discharged, and in the cool of the evening we were visited by the
Governor and suite.
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