There Were No Cultivated
Lands Hereabouts, And I Was Told That A Great Part Of Morocco Presents
This Desolate Aspect.
We visited, however, the celebrated Argan tree,
which the people pretend was planted by the lieutenant of the Prophet,
The mighty Okba, who, having spurred his horse in the roaring rebellious
surge of the Atlantic, wept and wailed before Heaven that there were no
more nations in whose heart to plunge his awful scimitar - so teaching
them the mercy of God! Alas! the old hoary tree, with a most peaceful
patriarchal look, seemed to belie the honour, stretching out its broad
sinewy arm to shelter a hundred people from the darting fires of an
African sun. A more noble object of inanimate nature is not to be
contemplated than a large and lofty branching tree; in its boughs and
leaves, endlessly varying, matted together and intersecting each other,
we see the palpable image of infinity. But in the dry and hot climate of
Africa, this tree is a luxury which cannot be appreciated in Europe.
We sat under its fresh shade awhile, gazing with security at the bright
fires of the sun, radiating over and through all visible nature. To
check our enthusiasm, we had strewn at our feet old broken bottles and
crockery, the _debris_ and classic relics of former visitors, who were
equally attentive to creature-comforts as to the grandeur of the Argan
monarch of the surrounding forest.
The Emperor's garden contains a well of water and a few fruit-trees, on
the trunk of one of which, a fine fig-tree, were carved, in durable
bark, the names of European visitors.
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