I encompassed a great part of the Pentapolis, visited the ruins of
Arsinoe, and, though I was much more feebly recommended than usual, I
happily received neither insult nor injury. Finding nothing at Arsinoe
nor Barca, I continued my journey to Ras Sem, the petrified city,
concerning which so many monstrous lies were told by the Tripoline
ambassador, Cassem Aga, at the beginning of this century, and all
believed in England, though they carried falsehood upon the very face
of them[42]. It was not then the age of incredulity, we were fast
advancing to the celebrated epoch of the man in the pint-bottle, and
from that time to be as absurdly incredulous as we were then the
reverse, and with the same degree of reason.
Ras Sem is five long days journey south from Bengazi; it has no water,
except a spring very disagreeable to the taste, that appears to be
impregnated with alum, and this has given it the name it bears of Ras
Sem, or the Fountain of Poison, from its bitterness. The whole remains
here consist in the ruins of a tower or fortification, that seems to
be a work full as late as the time of the Vandals. How or what use
they made of this water I cannot possibly guess; they had no other
at the distance of two days journey. I was not fortunate enough to
discover the petrified men and horses, the women at the churn, the
little children, the cats, the dogs, and the mice, which his Barbarian
excellency assured Sir Hans Sloane existed there: Yet, in vindication
of his Excellency, I must say, that though he propagated, yet he did
not invent this falsehood; the Arabs who conducted me maintained the
same stories to be true, till I was within two hours of the place,
where I found them to be false. I saw indeed mice[43], as they are
called, of a very extraordinary kind, having nothing of petrifaction
about them, but agile and active, so to partake as much of the bird as
the beast.
Arsinoe, and, though I was much more feebly recommended than usual, I
happily received neither insult nor injury. Finding nothing at Arsinoe
nor Barca, I continued my journey to Ras Sem, the petrified city,
concerning which so many monstrous lies were told by the Tripoline
ambassador, Cassem Aga, at the beginning of this century, and all
believed in England, though they carried falsehood upon the very face
of them[42]. It was not then the age of incredulity, we were fast
advancing to the celebrated epoch of the man in the pint-bottle, and
from that time to be as absurdly incredulous as we were then the
reverse, and with the same degree of reason.
Ras Sem is five long days journey south from Bengazi; it has no water,
except a spring very disagreeable to the taste, that appears to be
impregnated with alum, and this has given it the name it bears of Ras
Sem, or the Fountain of Poison, from its bitterness. The whole remains
here consist in the ruins of a tower or fortification, that seems to
be a work full as late as the time of the Vandals. How or what use
they made of this water I cannot possibly guess; they had no other
at the distance of two days journey. I was not fortunate enough to
discover the petrified men and horses, the women at the churn, the
little children, the cats, the dogs, and the mice, which his Barbarian
excellency assured Sir Hans Sloane existed there: Yet, in vindication
of his Excellency, I must say, that though he propagated, yet he did
not invent this falsehood; the Arabs who conducted me maintained the
same stories to be true, till I was within two hours of the place,
where I found them to be false. I saw indeed mice[43], as they are
called, of a very extraordinary kind, having nothing of petrifaction
about them, but agile and active, so to partake as much of the bird as
the beast.
