washington woman shares adventure amid desert raiders · 2018. 3. 23. · the sunday! star,...

THE SUNDAY! STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C.. FEBRUARY 10, 1929-PART T.

Washington Woman Shares Adventure Amid Desert RaidersEditor’* Note. Mis* Dorothy Quincy

Bmith of Washington. who. with MissLloyd Preston of New York, were thefirst Americans and the fourth and fifthwhite women to receive official authori-sation by the Italian government toenter the oasis of Gadames. the r-ostnorthern of the four Touaree centers ofthe Central Sahara Desert, relates theexperiences of this unusual trip, recentlymade under military escort. In the fol-lowing article. Photographs made byMis* Bmlth and Miss Preston Includethe first authorized views taken withinthe desert outposts.

BY D. QUINCY SMITH.

FROMAmerica, after a casual

glance at the map of Tripoli-tania, a visit to the Touaregoasis of Gadames appeared quiteinteresting, but not at all the

achievement into which it rapidly de-veloped.

The second largest and most north-ern of the four great Touareg centers ofthe Central Sahara, Gadames, has beenthe end of the rainbow for desert ex-plorers for many centuries. In the daysof the Corsaris, a French lieutenant dis-guised himself as an Arab and, againstthe orders of his superiors, tried toreach the oasis, only to be ignominiouslychased out and his Arab companionskilled. In 1924 Col. G. B. Volpin, andthe Italian Camel Corps took the terri-tory for Italy and have held It theselast four years. During this period butthree white women had been grantedpermits to travel to Gadames. Thefirst was her royal highness theDuchess D’Aosta, who started fromGabes, In (French) Tunisia, and madethe trip by mehnra practically all theway on French soil. Next the CountessVolpi, who accompanied her husbandon one of his inspection trips while hewas Governor of Tripolitania, and lastyear two friends of Mussolini's, a Ger-man artist and his wife, were grantedpermits to go down and paint for threeweeks.

Consequently, great was the excite-ment when Miss Lloyd Preston and I,as the first Americans and the fourthand fifth white women, were grantedthe coveted authorization. When Nobilede Martino, the Italian Ambassador,

most brilliant Vermillion. Built into thewalls were small double-doored cup-boards, remarkable to the un-Arab mindfor the fact that tied to each doorknobby large bows of glistening red gauzeribbon were two new and very shinysilver tablespoons! To harmonize withthi? unique scheme of decoration thegrilled windows, set high in the walls,were fitted with double wooden blinds,their knobs also decorated with ribbonbows and silver spoons.

Literally struck speechless by thesight before us, we paused on thethreshold to let our eyes wander aboutthe walls and the ensuing expressionsof amazement were taken by our sixhosts as exclamations of admiration—asindeed they were. High up under theceiling, flat against the red wall, wererows upon rows of large elaboratelyhammered brass trays with, underneath,similar rows of smaller brass and pewterplates. In the “chinks” occurring be-tween these original rows of shimmer-ing discs, catching and reflecting anewthe dozens of little lamp flames, wereliterally hundreds of what appeared tobe American “5 and 10’s” glass Christ-mas tree balls of every color, although,as always, bright red predominated.And far above our heads, the trays andplates began to be replaced by mirrorsof every size, shape and variety, fromwee “vanities” to the most ornateFrench and Italian Renaissance worksof art. Interspersed among these werenative wicker baskets and trays beauti-fully embroidered in all shades of red,and below them, as a sort of "finis,”was a solid band, extending all the wayaround the room, of colored postcardsdepicting the life and death of Mo-hammed and his ideas of paradise. Andlast of all and below it all. about 6 feetfrom the floor, our astonished eyes sawsuspended a double row of wall hooks,until we almost believed ourselvesdreaming in some American schoolroom, and we waited the sound of thebell to wake us. But it never came andwe were recalled to reality only by thevoice of our host.

In the center of the room was anoblong table with four folding chairsabout it. We were escorted to two seats

Tells of Thrills on Trip With Young Woman Companion to Outposts of Central Sahara Desert, Where Only Three White

Women Had. Preceded Them, hy Special Authority of Italian Government —Entertained hy Sheiks, Blisteredhy Sun and “Frozen” at Night, But It Was Worth It!

5 o'clock the following morning hewould take us to Derdj with him andsend us from there to Gadames byMehari caravan. As this cut the dis-tance we would have to travel by camelfrom 250 to 90 kilometers, we accepted;nrith alacrity. By motor with the majorwe made Sinauin for a gay lunch; noti-fied the waiting Touareg caravan ofour change of plans and left for Derdj,the frontier headquarters of the firstMehari group.

** * *

TOOTHING of which we had seen orread had prepared us for the reality

of Derdj and Its protecting outpost,T’Gutta. Perched on a sand hill 2,100feet high and about 500 feet above thesurrounding desert, the latter Is one ofItaly’s most important frontier posts.But dinner waited at Derdj and, notstopping then to explore, we drove thefour kilometers down the hillsidethrough the oasis to draw up in front ofjust such a dream castello as wouldhave delighted the heart of DouglasFairbanks in his "Thief of Bagdad.”

By the flickering light of hundredsof torches we were presented to theeight young officers who, as our latesthosts, escorted us through the vaultedmud-built halls of the old Touaregfortress to a tower room hung withsaddle bags and weapons and carpetedwith heavy Touareg rugs. Dinner bymoonlight on the open terrace, servedby silent veiled soldiers in white robes,will always remain the stuff of whichdreams are made. Our new friendsentertained us with tales of their latest

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THE FIRST PHOTOGRAPH OF THE STREETS OF GADAMES.

THE CARAVAN STARTS FOR THE OASIS OF GADAMES.

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ENTRANCE TO A SACRED “MOSQUE” IN GADAMES,' NEVERBEFORE PHOTOGRAPHED.

Surrounding all, is a heavy interlacedbarricade of barbed wire. At sunset, itpresents a striking picture silhouettedagainst the fading light, a corporal’sguard of machine gunners in eachturret, tall, lean, brown-skinned Eri-treans capped by the inevitable redfez and swishing tassel. And, afterdarkness, from the roof the powerfulsearchlight cuts through the heavens,manned by a crew of smiling youngItalians doing their military service.Apparently so bored with the drugeryand routine of fort life, these youngmen seemed almost to be praying forthe coming of the Touareg raideis forwhom they searched the desert.

But the next day tales of the raid-ers ceased to be amusing. A radiofrom Gadames announced raiders onthe route and ordered us held. Sothere we sat for three sweltering daysin that tiny desert post, with five be-wildered officers who, in the absenceof any common language, did all pos-sible to keep time from hanging tooheavily on our hands. On our first"night of detention" the Askri, whomwe had photographed and sketched,joined with the Italian N. C. O.’s ofthe searchlight and radio stations and,by the light of a glorious African moon(Oh, our memories of that “bellaluna”), serenaded us, and the Askri(native Libyans) then formed in ahalf circle to give us a “fantasia,” oneof the best of many we have seen.Fifty men stood, knelt and squatted

about a four-piece orchestra, composedof a flute made from a gazelle’s horns;a darbouka (tom-tom), a sopranodrum that began life as an Americanoil can, and a mineral water bottlewith a spoon inside.

In the center of the charmed circlewere the dancers, two men dressed aswild animals, the inevitable Sudaneseclowns and two others, their barracansdraped after the prevailing femininemode. When we asked for a daylightrepetition to make cinemas, one wouldhave thought a medal of honor hadbeen conferred on the post.

On the afternoon of the third day,

October 2, the mehari were broughtaround, loaded with the suit case, cam-eras, water and wTaps. and we climbedinto the hard "rakhla" (Touareg wood-

en saddles) and 5 o’clock saw us offon a trek of 24 hours In the saddle outof a total of 40 hours on the road,which our journal sums up as follows:

Oct. 2nd. Left T’Gutta 5 p.m. Rodetill 8, then dinner in tiny oasis. Arabsgathered about to watch proceedingsand contributed gifts of raw eggs andchicken. Left 9 with moon. Big cara-van. Two outriders each flank in ad-dition to front and rear guards andfour men detailed to ride beside eachof us. Made dry camp, fuelless andtentless in dunes, 2 a.m. Slept dressed,enveloped in coats and burnouses.Froze. (Oh, those ‘‘warm sands” ofthe desert!) Ourselves in center,

camels barracked in double circle aboutus, four guards posted and every gunloaded over camel.

Oct. 3rd. Broke camp 6 a.m. Trav-eled till 11 on one cup coffee. Heatterrific. Nearly fainted for lack offood. Chicken broth and boiled chick-en 1:30. Some rest, but too hot tosleep. Strong wind and sand whippedour faces even under tent. En route5 p.m. In raiders country. Evengreater precautions than last night. Atdusk entered big wadi. Signs of men.Our men unslung guns. Trot for safety.Found men extra patrol sent out fromGadames. Camp for dinner in wadi.Escort now most imposing. 8 to 9p.m. on foot over stones and thistlesup wadi. Rode till 2 a.m. Then drycamp on stones, too bruised and tiredto sleep.

Oct. 4th. Broke camp, frozen, 7a.m. Arrived Gadames 11 a.m. Made

trip in same time as Meharisti. Pickedup two more patrols, both Spahis, onway. Learned about raiders. Veiledmen swept down on Gadames and inoasis, 4 kilometers from fort, killedsoldier guard and stole the 30 meharispecially trained to chase their cap-tors. So sore and tired on arrivalhardly able to move. But rode up tofort at brisk trot and slid to earthwith grins glued on tight. Baths be-fore good lunch and two raw eggs inspirits. Some improvement. Room infort, a furnace, but slept till late after-noon.

** * *

P MERGING from beneath our mos-quito netting into a seething mass

of flies, we slipped into our thinnestdresses and, cameras and parasols inhand, started for the town in the oasis,which we had worked so hard to reach.Our first evening’s tramp convinced usof the worthwhileness of our journey-ing. But a harder place to photographand sketch it would be difficult toimagine.

Being the fourth and fifth Europeanwomen to visit Gadames and the first“tourists” during Italian control of theterritory, we certainly could not com-plain that the town and its inhabitantswere “spoiled.” Quite the contrary, infact, for out of every doorway poppedthe heads of countless women, whoresponded in a soft treble to our con-tinuous greeting of "N’Harak Said,” andthe masculine portion of the popula-tion, whether crouching or apparent-ly sleeping, at our approach, rose andremained standing as we passed, thenobles coming forward to touch ourfingers and all invariably giving theFascist salute.

Situated in the central Sahara, in anarea which native records show to havebeen rainless for several thousand years,Cadames, nevertheless, Impressed us asbeing spotlessly clean, especially its nar-row, winding, covered streets or lanes.

Their roofs are supported on queerlyshaped sexagonal arches in no way re-sembling the horseshoe-shapfd struc-tures of the Arabs. Their sides arelined with broad benches upon whichthe venerable elders crouch to smoke,gossip and sip the omnipresent case

Maure. Up these 4-foot-wide highwayshas been moving the traffic of cen-turies—great caravans of camels load-ed with gold from the mines of Solomonand ivory and ostrich feathers fromequatorial jungles—until the Britishbuilt their railroad to the coast andcaptured the equatorial trade at itssource. They so successfully soundedthe death knell of the great caravansthat today we moved with a feelingakin to awe through the deserted thor-oughfares silently greeted by the white-robed spirits of a lose prosperity.

Thanks to the delay caused by theraiders, our stay was cut in hajf. Sowe tramped the town and oasis earlymorning and late evening, duly escortedby our interpreter, a camera boy and awalking arsenal, whom we were toldwas to protect us—from what we havenot yet discovered.

In the comparative cool of the earlymornings, we roamed the oasis of 50,000date palms, to see native women wash-ing their clothes and gossiping in theclear, cool waters pumped into therivulets by the most remarkable wellsor systems of wells we had ever seen.In more prosperous times slaves werehandcuffed to the long wooden leversbehind the receiving trough, in such away that the six or eight goatskin wa-ter containers emptied their contents inunison into the common trough hol-lowed out of the trunk of a palm tree.

Today the giant Nubians are replacedby a sextet of Arabs who seem to beexhausted with every rise and fall ofthe great levers. Three such multiplewells, tapping the same source of desertwealth, furnish town and gardens withthe “liquid gold.”

Returning to the town and penetrat-

Wired me that his government had con-sented, I had less than a week to gathermy kit and leave to join Miss LloydPreston in Rome. Here the directorgeneral of the colonies himself handedover the precious scraps of paper, andSeptember 6 found us again in Tripoli.There we stopped three endless weekswhile the governor and the secretarygeneral started wires to Rome to ex-plain the impossibility of allowing twoyoung women so near the frontier. Andimmediately the young women in ques-tion started bombarding the powers-that-be with both telegrams and let-ters. The result was that on Septem-ber 18 we were notified by the Castellothat we would be sent down by militarycaravan. On September 23 we left bymotor for the interior.

Noon of the second day out welunched with Maj. Perugini, the com-mandante of the southwest territory.He casually remarked that no caravanwould leave for two or three months, asthe Meharisti were out on a scoutingexpedition after a particularly badgroup of raiders. Considerable persua-sion resulted in eliciting a letter toCapt. Fcssa, the Fascist commandanteat Nalut, instructing him to send us,under escort, with a Touareg caravanabout to leave Sinauen, a desert post 250kilometers south of Nalut. And wesighed with relief that one more ob-stacle was overcome.

At Nalut, where we had spent sometime last year, our hosts were delightful.Capt. Fossa radioed at once to Sinauenfor exact news of the caravan, which, hetold us, would leave the latter postOctober 2. This gave us five days toreduce our two suit cases and pannier of2,000 feet of cinema films to one valise,half of which we utilized for a scantw'ardrcbe of our thinnest frocks. Theother side was for our precious films.The three cinemas and three “still”cameras we could not reduce, but later,with hearts in our mouths and ferventprayers on our llpr for their safety, wewatched them dangle from the sides ofour mehari.

Being the only available girls hasdistinct advantages. Our 16 hostsplanned elaborate entertainments tooccupy the time before we left forSinauen. Lieut. Romagnoli gave anArabe tea party in his metamorphisedTrogladyte grotto, where we sat cross-legged on Touareg cushions about abrass tabouret, drinking steaming hotlea flavored with roasted peanuts. Laterhe assembled his native band in thesquare and we sat about the lone tableof the town’s one case, sipping the in-evitable cinzano, while the brown-faced,bare-legged little band trudged solemnlyup and down in front of us. The cadi(Arab for sheik in this dialect) joinedwith Lieut. Corriere and his companyof Spahis in an elaborate cavalry drilland “fantasia” of several hours in orderthat we might secure the first coloredcinemas ever made of such a subject.

Again, Lieut. Romagnoli had justarrived with his 100 artillery camelsand, cinemas in hand, wc slid down 200or more feet of perpendicular mountaintrail to “shoot” the animals at theirbi-weekly drinking bout of 20 gallonseach. Another morning our orderlycame running in to announce “boom,boom, pronto Castello,” and vanishedwith our cameras over his shoulderwhile we collected parasols and filmsand tagged obediently in his wake.Lieut. Robcrti, with two trench cannonsimilar to the 75's of the variety madefamous at Verdun, was holding the firstartillery practice Nalut had ever seen—-or heard. Soldiers and Arabs were out,eyes glued on to the two picturesquegun crews who sited, loaded and firedwith a precision many a European crewmight envy. Italy is making soldiers ofher new subjects.

September 27, Maj. Perugini returnedunexpectedly and at 7 p.m. sent t© tellm umuwt

achievements and tried to scare us outof proceeding on to Oadames, protestingtheir fears for the safety of the firstgirls and first Americans to be theguests of the “Gruppo” at Derdj. Butwhen we remained firm in our deter-mination to go, they changed theirtactics and began plans for cinemas tobe made the following morning, which,while one of the most interesting wehave had in Trlpolitania, was certainlyone of the most strenuous one couldimagine.

By six we were dressed and out, twoAskri carrying our six cameras. Belowus, under the palm trees, were gathered,company by company, the 500 soldiersmaking up the Primo Gruppo Sahar-iano. Each man in immaculate whiteuniform and turban, the distinguish-ing red belt of his unit wrapped abouthis waist and brought up over theshoulders so as to cross front and back,knife on hip and gun on shoulder,stood beside his kneeling mehara.

With Maj. Perugini, Capt. Boselli,the commandante of the Gruppo, andour officer hosts, we walked aboutamong the men and camels in an effortto get unposed pictures of them andtheir betasseled steeds. Then out acrossthe burning desert sands to a narrowwadi (dry desert stream bed), at thehead of which we posted ourselves, andfor over two hours loaded and “shot,”while the men rode into the cinemas.On foot, at trot, at gallop they came,350 artillery and machine gunners, 100irregular mounted infantry and some 50Touareg. And then “close-ups" and“stills” of the elaborate trappings ofindividual camel’s and men, snappiestof all, the officers as, in a compactunit, they trotted toward us and drewup in silent salute.

Next, out beyond the oasis to the“Campo Touareg,” here to desert ourcavaliers. They stood grouped on theoutskirts of the encampment andwatched while the girls wandered aboutsmiling and talking to the unveiledwomen and shy babies who graduallygathered about the tall blond and shortbrown-haired Americans, to touchfingers and murmur “Bi’s’lamma”(Bless you). The men seeing the val-or of their women, came forward tooffer us a “plccola fantasia.” So, downwe squatted under a palm tree, munch-ing dates while our new “girl friends”folded themselves into a compact circlesome distance off to croon out a wild mi-nor song, made more so by the insistentrhythm of the skin-covered tom-toms.One by one, the black veiled mencame out to whirl about, singly andcollectively, shooting and throwing theirlong guns into the *air very much aswe are taught our American Indiansused to do in by-gone days.

At 5 that afternoon, the Gruppogathered in military formation to startforth on a month of desert scouting,and a more inspiring sight we arenever likely to see. /Each company asquare unit in its oWn place, the officersin front, and leading the whole thesmart young commandante, who issuedorders by whistle.

A little to one side, by the major,we stood and, before they rode offinto the setting sun, each company, aperfectly trained unit, presented armsto the major, mounted their proudsteeds and as one man, rose hnd trot-ted silently past. Spellbound, wewatched them disappear over the rosydunes into the land of the settingsun. Then the major touched myarm, we climbed into the car and droveback to T’Gutta, from which we wereto start by mehari for Gadames thefollowing afternoon,

** * *

rP’GUTTA, one of Italy’s strongestA frontier posts, is a square, mud-

baked brick fortress, with a circulartower in each comer, and about it, the

Music—to Make Us Work Harder

BY SALLY MACDOUGALL.

AHARP that once through theMetropolitan Opera House thesoul of music shed now standsmute most of the time so thatWilliam Van de Wall may be

free to spend his days and nights cast-ing out devils.

Dr. Van de Wall has placed himselfat the head of a small but Increasingarmy that is waging a melodious war-fare against a variety of evil spiritswhich he believes are obstructing manypaths to achievement and happinessand which can be vanquished by musicmore effectively than by any otheragency. He believes creative workersand other toilers will experience un-dreamed-of productivity after musicshall have been made a more practical,more constant and intimate factor in allour lives.

The decision to forsake his career asorchestra harpist and become a mis-sionary for music first occurred to Dr.Van de Wall while he was with theMetropolitan Opera of New York, wherehe played the harp for six years aftercoming to this country from Holland.

“Iwas at that time a correspondentfor Dutch newspapers," he recalled. “Ihad contracted to write a weekly articleon Dutch immigrants in America. Onecould not imagine anything more remotefrom the moods of ‘Tristan’ or ‘Meister-slnger’ than sociological studies onDutch strangers in a new land. Yet itwas under the influence of just suchmusic that these articles took form.

“At first I tried to compose them inthe hours when I was not at the operahouse. These efforts were usually dis-appointing and unsatisfactory, besidesbeing very hard work. Then I dis-covered that literary composition cameeasily and fluently and without strainwhile I was listening to the greatvolume of orchestra music that sur-rounded me. In the long waits whenthere were no passages for my harp themusic stimulated my fancy. Imagina-tion flowed in a pleasant stream andideas took form. The things that hadto be written came to life and shapedthemselves so definitely that the job ofwriting was no trouble at all.”

In an interval between lectures atColumbia University the other day Dr.Van de Wall admitted his belief that ifwe could all have orchestras in the ante-room during working hours a tremen-dous Impetus would be added to theworld’s work. He surmises that theradio may become a constructive In-fluence in this connection.

During the years since he played theharp at the Metropolitan and earnedextra money as a newspaper corre-spondent Dr. Van de Wall has becomeinternationally known as an authorityon the curative effects of music uponfeeble-minded and insane persons.Evangelical zeal impelled him to carryhis message to the American PrisonAssociation, and through that con-nection hebecapie field director for the

Harp-Playing Professor AdvocatesSymphonies for Pepping-Up Sed-

entary Workers, While AnotherMusic Doctor Tries Jazz Diet

on Bear, Baboon andSeal at Zoo.

mainly In New York and Pennsylvania.And years of proof showing that

music can be used as a lever on thementally sick to banish ugly moods andto lift submerged springs of energy intoconsciousness. Dr. Van de Wall is nowdirecting his propaganda toward normalpeople, working chiefly with musicsupervisors in schools, because he be-lieves that through them he can reachthe largest possible public.

"A human being is a rhythmicallyfunctioning organism that is peculiarlysensitive to the stimulus of music,” hesaid. ‘‘Different organisms will respondin different ways. IfI want to write anarticle or prepare a lecture I put sym-phony music on the phonograph. Underthat influence the mind is quieted, theimagination is stimulated, outside inter-ests are excluded. Creative plansemerge. I have a friend, a well knownengineer, who for years has evolved hisplans and blue prints under the influ-ence of symphony music.

‘‘But we must not forget that withdifferent organisms music may stimu-late on different levels and that thequality of music should correspond tothe quality of mind that is to be affect-ed. Music that would stimulate oneperson intellectually to release thecreative faculties might stimulate an-other only emotionally, or it mightmerely give a desire for the sort ofphysical energy which leads to themarch or the dance or the mere tap-ping of feet on the floor. Refined orless refined satisfactions may be foundin music. For music is a message fromone individual to another and we canhear only that for which we have ears.

“The ideal citizen functions as a vitalorganism on many levels —the intellec-tual, spiritual, social, emotional, phys-ical—and he reacts to music on eachand all of these. A less fortunate per-son, one whose functions may be ob-structed by disease or for some otherreason, may be able to function on fewerlevels. The idiot, who functions only onthe physical, will clap his hands uponhearing music, while in the mind of theintellectual, hearing the same music,creative processes may be released.”

Dr. Van de Wall advocated the use ofmusic in offices and factories as an in-

which most workers experience at somehour of the day—some about 11 o’clockin the morning, some at 3 o’clock in theafternoon. Experiments have convincedhim that music may be successfully em-ployed to call out reserve energy whenworkers are tired.

“Here we have music as a means toconcentration,” he said. “But it isnecessary to caution against overstimu-lating to the point of inaction. Formusic may also serve as a sedative. Forproof of that we have the radio’s slum-ber hour, which I regard as a mosthelpful innovation, especially in insti-tutions where individual earphones havebeen installed as an aid to sinking intoself-forgetfulness and restful sleep.”

Dr. Van de Wall finds a relation be-tween the influences of alcohol or drugsand music.

“The drug addict seeks release fromthe miserable present. Music will givehim that,” he guaranteed. “Itreleasesinhibitions and creates harmony bycalling the different elements of therhythmic human organism into tunewith each other. For rhythm is funda-mental and necessary if life is to be atall successful. One good thing aboutmusic as a stimulant is that it leavesno bad aftermath.

“Iam convinced that if we can Intro-duce a constructive understanding andenjoyment of music very early in achild’s life much of the world’s un-happiness and frustration and unpro-ductiveness will be overcome. It is withthis idea in mind that I am now work-ing with special groups of teachers—-music supervisors with love for children,devotion to work and an intelligent un-derstanding of what music may accom-plish to make and keep life harmoni-ous.”

In his enthusiastic evangelism in thecause of music Dr. Van de Wall admitsthat he is merely picking it up whereanother and more exalted harpist leftoff many years ago. In this connectionhe quotes a Bible passage about Davidthe psalmist:

“ ‘And it came to pass, when the evilspirit from Ood was upon Saul, thatDavid took a harp and played with hishand; so Saul was refreshed and waswell, and the evil spirit departed from

“In the Greek myths.” the professorsaid, “music was the handmaiden, thedaughter of the gods, the sacred magi-cian taming wild animals and causingstones to leap up into temples. Thereare great psychological truths in theseold stories. We know that music todayhas the power to lift buried thoughtconstellations with their energy intoconsciousness, thus causing new streamsof feeling, thought, action. Any onewho wants to prove that might tryhearing some old song that has beenunheard for years and Jot down thethoughts as they come.”

Asked why it is that famous musi-cians are not always ideal citizens, Dr.Van de Wall explained that somewherein history the co-ordinating and dealingqualities of the art went into eclipse onaccount of the worldly tributes pi fameand fortune that came to tha per-former.

He admlted that his own musical edu-cation in the Royal Conservatory at TheHague and at Leipzig, while it madehim a capable technician qualified tohold first-class orchestra jobs, did notreveal to him the aspects of music helater discovered for himself, somethingmore akin to the musical ideals of theancients.

His program with school childrenaims to give a rising generation an in-sight into music that should enablethem to combat any species of evil spiritthat might otherwise get into heir bud-ding lives.

In the years while Dr. Van de Wallhas been watching music work miraclesin the lives of the Insane and the nor-mal, Dr. W. R. Blair, director of theBronx Park Zoo, has been conductingexperiments on the effects of musicupon animals. Dr. Blair was not somuch concerned with changing dis-turbed moods into calm ones, morosemoods into happy ones, as he was indiscovering whether there was any sortof reaction. Like Dr. Van de Wall, heis convinced that there is a world ofunrevealed Influence in music. The sealions—he calls them the jazz artists ofthe zoo—are proof of that.

“Not long ago we tried a jazz programon some of the tigers, leopards andlions,” he said. “The experiment lefta question in our minds as to whetherthey approve of jazz. One after an-other they retired inside their cages andpeeked out around corners. On bandconcert days these animals are alwaysrestless. We have long known that theyare not Indifferent to ordinary music.We also tried a jazz experiment withthe bears, but the test was ineffectualbecause the keeper had not been noti-fied. In the middle of the program hecame over the hill with the feed cart.That ended whatever interest the bearsmight have shown in our music. Mon-keys and sea lions have shown more in-terest than any other animals in ourexperiments with radio music. Themonkey will try to get as close as hecan to the source of sound, Just as' hedoes with band music.”

Dr. Blair hopes some day to have alaboratory at the zoo so that scientifictis an m

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MISS PRESTON INTERVIEWING THE LORD HIGH MAYOR OFTHE DESERT OUTPOST.

ing its very heart is a cool, almost in-vigorating walk under the whitewashedvaults, which, for light and air, openevery 100 yards or so into tiny arcadedsquares, where, in the vivid sunshine,Arab youngsters play at tops and mar-bles quite after the fashion of theirAmerican brothers.

** * *

/'YUR mornings were devoted totramping, photographing and

sketching. Our invaluable interpreter,Sig Gabrclli, arranged for us not onlyto see, but also to photograph for thefirst time certain native dances andceremonies of the Touareg and Sudan-ese negresses. The Touareg had al-ready given us a little “fantasia” atDerdj, it will be remembered, but not tobe compared with the one the “Capo deTouareg” arranged for the “two wives”of his friend Sig. Oabrelli. At 4 o’clockour second afternoon, the Capo ap-peared at the fort, face closely veiled inblack and clad in the vivid purple andmagenta silk and broadcloth robes lastworn to welcome H, R. H. the Duke dePuglie, and ceremoniously escorted usto his village. There we were seated ontheir choicest rugs and cushions as thewomen, as gorgeously appareled as theirCapo, issued from every camel's-hairtent, to touch our fingers and crouch ina compact circle a dozen feet off togaze solemnly at us. When a dozen orso had collected they hauled from thevoluminous folds of their silken dra-peries strange-looking native instru-ments from which they proceeded toextract even stranger noises. As thegroup swelled in numbers, so did theperformers, until the climax for us wasreached with the arrival of a shriveled-up old leper and three truly beautifulgirls whom she instructed to dance un-veiled before our cinemas. !* V UUI Viiiciuao,

Not to be outdone by the Capo deTouareg. the sheik of the town pre-sented himself at the fort the followingafternoon in his spotless white barra-cano to invite us to attend a specialfantasia of the Negresses, the first wehad ever seen. About one hundredwomen, all dressed in varying shadesof magenta and purple, were gatheredin an open court, their foreheads boundwith a bandeau of loose, jingling, finelychased gold discs and golden banglesdangling freely from ears and nostrils.As they threw back their barracans thebetter to play their tomtoms we saw anelaborate array of silver and goldbracelets reaching solidly from wrist toelbow and. in the case of the youngestand, fairest maidens, all the way to theshoulder. Except for their picturesqueapparel and barbaric Jewelry, theseNegresses comported themselves verymuch after the manner of their Amer-ican kinswomen at an old-fashioned re-vival meeting, their bodies swaying inunison to a rhythm as pronounced asAmerican jazz and their voices risingand falling in a weird sonance.

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A/fOST unusual and by far the great-¦LVA est honor of all was an invitationto tea from a Cadi of Tripoli in hisSummer residence at Gadames. On ourlast afternoon the Cadi's eldest soncalled at the fort and, accompanied bySig. Gabrielll, we set out through thevaulted streets of the town until wehalted before a passage darker thanthe others. This might have been theentrance to Aladdin's Palace. Withinthe passage was lighted by tiny walllamps, made of baked clay, in size andform identical with those of ancientHome and true to history, even to thecrude wick and flickering spurt of light.Along the passes and up a short flightof steps, and there we found ourselvesin a room conceived only hr the mindof an Arab. The irregular mud floorwas covered with the rarest of Kairouanrugs, bounded on all sides by embroid-ered silk and leather cushions, and the

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facing our two “chief hosts” and as wewere seated the other five men auto-matically folded themselves up on near-by cushions. As soon as we were seatedthe two eldest sons of the house ap-peared to serve their guests, placing be-fore us tall glasses of grenadine fol-lowed by equally tall glasses of coco-nut milk. Then a third son appearedto load the table with six plates of asmany varieties of dates, two of figs,eight kinds of cakes and 10 varietiesof native candies—their appetizing ap-pearance enhanced by the Instant ar-rival of at least 9,000,000 flies 1 Thetwo fluids and the dates, cakes andcandies sampled and enthused over, ourrebellious interiors welcomed with joythe advent of the eldest son bearingthe steaming case Maure which con-cludes every Arab repast. That dis-posed of, we rose to leave, when ourhost interposed to say the ladies of thehousehold were waiting to receive usupstairs.

So upstairs we went to find ourselvesin a world of women on the sunnycrenellated roofs of the city above thepalms. Here the four ladies of thehousehold received us as graciously aswe might have been received in anyEuropean drawing room. The first wifeescorted us to two chairs under a cano-py on a platform at the farther end of“our” roof. Thus enthroned, ourhostesses gathered about us to touchour shoes, chiffon dresses and strawhats and go into ecstasy over Helen’swavy golden hair. But a community ofinterest was established when it wasdiscovered that out of compliment toour hostesses we were both wearingArab necklaces and bracelets. At oncehalf a dozen pairs of arms were thrustforward to display their owners’ wealthof gold and silver.

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But, while we were being thus enter-tained, the news had spread that the

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two young “Roiunia” were “on the8 roof’’ and over the roofs in all direc-j tions we heard the soft tread of bare

£ feet as the blue-robed women clustered! about on the adjoining houses to amtta“

and kiss their hands to us and candown musical greetings in response to

| our timidly spoken Arab salutations.y*** *

• rTHE next morning, our last, we were» A surprised and pleased to reecive ah\ Invitation from our host of the precea-• ing afternoon to midmornjng tea at hisj “country house” in the oasis. When het brought us the Invitation, our Invalu-, able interpreter delivered it with almost11 paternal pride over our social success,l adding, “You know, the only other Eu-: ropean lady ever received by the Cadi. and his wives is H. R. H. the Duchess. d’Aosta, and she didn’t see the garden

, we’re going to now.” Which settled the. matter: we just had to go 3 kilometers, and back in the broiling sun. But once

’ arrived, we didn’t regret it. The house.approached native style through a dirtcourt occupied by goats, dogs, chickens

. and donkeys, faces on a “Garden oft Allah.” Sitting on the cool arcaded\ terrasse, we looked into a world ofpalms.

• their waving fronds sending the sun-i beams dancing a hundred ways into

> lower trees of oranges, lemons, pome-t granates, peaches, apples, pears; a care-! fully tended garden of roses, yellow; daisies and a dozen local flowers un-i known to us. Presently we deserted thet lower terrasse for the roof and the! finest view we ever had of the oasis ofI Gadames and Its protecting circles of

soft sand dunes or hills of 300 or 400feet in height. Halfway downstairs oneof the sons we had met yesterdaypopped, like one of Aladdin’s genii, outof an invisible doorway to usher us into •

a huge room—walls and floors coveredwith rare old tiles and a beamed ceil- ,

ing of huge carved palm trunks. Atone end of the room was the inevitableoverburdened table at which wc seated

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