The architectural peculiarity of Algiers is the curious arrangement of poles, all supposed to be of cedar wood, supporting the upper stories of the houses, which are built to project over and shade the lower, and nearly meeting overhead. Occasionally a fine gateway, rarely a decorative window, breaks the white surface of the walls, which are whitewashed and rewhitewashed continually. Generally the outer windows are mere holes, and the doors are hidden in the darkest corners. To the uninitiated nothing suggests riches or poverty; the walls are like masks. But once inside and through the dark entrance corridor, some of the houses are most beautiful. They are much alike, with their cloistered courts, with delicate, twisted columns and fine capitals. The reception-rooms have wide openings into the court, so that the cool fountain, and the flowers and trees, if there are any, may be enjoyed. The upper rooms open in a similar fashion upon a wooden balcony, generally beautiful with carving. The court and all the rooms are decorated with tiles of old designs, very rich and soft in colour, and many of the rooms have stucco work in the style of the Alhambra, only rougher and coarser in handling. Such houses or palaces or fragments of them are numerous. The Archbishop’s Palace, the Governor’s Palace, the old library, and the curiosity shops are the best known.
Even some of the schools are in fine old houses. The embroidery school was the prettiest, and was a charming sight with the court full of tiny children sitting on the matting and bending over their low embroidery frames—beautiful embroideries hanging over the balcony; and if one chose to climb up to the roof, a fine view of old Algiers, its roofs and terraces. Now the school has moved to larger quarters—another old house, pretty also, but not so interesting. The carpet school is most picturesque: there is a big doorway and the usual dark passage, then the door opens into the court, which is quite a small one with very strong light and shade. Between the pillars all round stand the big looms, and on low benches in front sit the little girls at work. The floor of the court is marble, the pillars are very curiously cut in varying designs, and are all coloured a rich yellowish orange. The balcony of the upper story has some good carved work, but very little of it is visible owing to the carpets of every tone and tint which hang over it. There are carpets on the floor, carpets in rolls, carpets and children everywhere; for upstairs also are more looms, and everywhere little workers, mostly girls, with here and there a very small boy—odd little things, with their long full Turkish trousers, white or in bright colours, their loose jackets, also mostly white, and their little heads veiled in white or else bound round with the gayest of handkerchiefs. The effect is often spoilt by common European blouses and quite hideous check shawls. Carpet-making looks easy enough, and the children seem to enjoy threading the bright wool through the web and tying the knots; for a little while that is, then like a little flight of butterflies they all come in a whirl to see what the stranger is doing in the dark inner room. This was alarming at first, as many are the stories of sketches destroyed and artists tormented by the irate victims of their brushes, and these innocent-looking little people, with their sweet smiles and pretty ways, were said to be most troublesome. But either they did not understand or they liked to be painted, for the smiles never died away till the mistress ordered them back to work, though for a few minutes one little maid propped up her pattern so as to hide her face. However, she soon forgot and things went on as before.