was undoubtedly a Christian one also, for the ruins of a church were found when making the excavations for the new buildings. . . . The houses, separated one from the other, but arranged in straight streets, are simple in construction, but bright, clean, and cheerful. Green plantations of the eucalyptus look gay against the white walls. A pretty little church is built in the centre of the village, above which rises the cross of the primate, St. Cyprian, the Carthage martyr, to whom the church is dedicated. In front of the village is stretched a vast garden, divided into allotments, according to the number of the families, and irrigated by two norias (or wells), sunk in the soil. Behind is a large park, surrounded by a wall, in which are inclosed the oxen for ploughing, with the cows and goats needed for milking. All around, the dwarf palms and Algerian-bush vegetation are being cleared, to make way for wheat-fields and other crops. Everywhere you see work, life, and action. If you ask a European the name of this new village, he will tell you, "It is St. Cyprian of Tighsel" (the Tighsel is the name of the little river to the right, which forms the boundary of the village). But if you go to any of the Arab tribes encamped on the neighboring hills, and ask the same question, they will answer, "It is the village of the children of the great marabout."
- This "marabout" is myself. They give the same name to all priests, whether Catholic or Mahometan. My children are our orphans; the Arabs look upon me as the father of all these poor little souls, whom I have saved from death, and it is their custom to give to the tribes the name of their founder.
The archbishop continues in a subsequent letter: —
- These villages are, in truth, the salvation of our children. Here, under the eye of our missioners, sustaining one another, and exciting each other by example and emulation in work and all the virtues of a Christian family, they are sheltered from the evils of our colonies, where the worst vices have free play. They are as green oases in the midst of the desert. Here my children thrive, increase, and multiply, for in this land of the sun, everything goes quickly, and most of our young couples have now two or three children, so I am already a grandfather. I wish you could see me when I come to St. Cyprian, surrounded by all these little creatures, who call me "grandpapa monseigneur," and who pull me about in every direction, and scramble on my knee, to see if I have not some sugarplums for them in my pocket. I let them do what they will, as you may imagine, thanking God for his goodness, who has so blessed this work, and created so many little innocent creatures to serve his gracious purposes hereafter. . . . For the birth of these children in our new families is to us the assurance of the continuance of our work and the pledge of the success, in which, thanks be to God, we have not been disappointed.
But one thing was needed to complete these villages, and that was a hospital for the many diseases rife among the natives. Hence the creation of the Hospital of St. Elizabeth, at St. Cyprian, of which some account must be given.
One of the objects which Mgr. Lavigerie hoped to attain by the establishment; of these native Christian villages was to bring about friendly relations with the Arab tribes encamped in the neighborhood. Several of the young couples, in fact, had found members of their own families — uncles, aunts, and cousins, who came to visit them at St. Cyprian, and were amazed at what they saw. "Even had your fathers lived," the Arabs would exclaim to the new settlers, "they would never have been able to do for you what the great marabout of the Christians has done." Mgr. Lavigerie had placed as pastors of these new villages some of his own admirable African missioners. Now, one of their rules is to study medicine, and to attend themselves to any sick who may be brought to them. And so, at St. Cyprian, they began, as they did everywhere else, to devote themselves to the care of the sick and suffering. One of the houses in the village was taken for a pharmacy, and the skill and tender care of the missioners, who gave both dressing and drugs gratuitously, soon attracted all the sick Arabs of the different mountain tribes in the vicinity. Many who could not walk were brought on the backs of mules, and laid down at the feet of the fathers, who would kneel and dress their hideous wounds with the utmost charity and patience. The natives were never weary of expressing their astonishment. "Why do you do this?" they would exclaim. "Our own fathers and mothers would not take as much trouble for us!" The reputation of the cures effected in this way spread far and wide. The women, who held aloof at first from Mussulman prejudice, began flocking in likewise. The archbishop then sent sisters (of the same African congregation which he had founded) to attend to them. But one thing was becoming indispensable, and that was a hospital, where those whose diseases required a longer treatment could be received and nursed with that care and cleanliness, which were almost the conditions of cure. But where was the archbishop to find the money, either for the building or for the necessary staff of such an establishment? He
