Travels and Discoveries in North and Central Africa

Mr. Richardson was waiting in Paris for despatches, when Mr. Overweg and I reached Tunis, by way of Philippeville and Bona, on the 15th of December, 1849; and having, through the kind interference of Mr. Ferrier, the British vice-consul, been allowed to enter the town after six days’ quarantine, we began immediately to provide ourselves with articles of dress, while in the meantime we took most interesting daily rides to the site of ancient Carthage. Having procured many useful articles for our journey, and having found a servant, the son of a freed slave from Gober, we left Tunis on the 30th of December, and passed the first night in Hammám el Enf. Early next morning we followed the charming route by Krumbália, which presents a no less vivid specimen of the beauty and natural fertility of the Tunisian country than of the desolate state to which it is at present reduced. We then passed the fine gardens of Turki, a narrow spot of cultivation in a wide desolate plain of the finest soil; and leaving el Khwín to our right, we reached el Arbʿain.

Both these places enjoy a peculiar celebrity with the natives. El Khwín is said to have been once a populous place; but nearly all its inhabitants were destroyed by a spring of bituminous water, which according to tradition, afterwards disappeared. El Arbʿain, the locality of the “forty” martyrs, is a holy place; and ʿAli, our muleteer, in his pious zeal, took up a handful of the sacred earth and sprinkled it over us. It is a most picturesque spot. Keeping then along the wild plain covered with a thick underwood of myrtle, we beheld in the distance the highly picturesque and beautiful Mount Zaghwán, the Holy Mountain of the ancient inhabitants, which rose in a majestic form; and we at length reached Bir el buwíta, “the well of the little closet,” at one o’clock in the afternoon. The “little closet,” however, had given place to a most decent-looking whitewashed khán, where we took up our quarters in a clean room. But our buoyant spirits did not allow us long repose; and a quarter before eleven at night we were again on our mules.

I shall never forget this, the last night of the year 1849, which opened to us a new era with many ordeals, and by our endurance of which we were to render ourselves worthy of success. There were, besides ourselves, our servants, and our two muleteers, four horsemen of the Bey, and three natives from Jirbi. When midnight came my fellow traveller and I saluted the new year with enthusiasm, and with a cordial shake of the hand wished each other joy. Our Mohammedan companions were greatly pleased when they were informed of the reason of our congratulating each other, and wished us all possible success for the new year. We had also reason to be pleased with them; for by their not inharmonious songs they relieved the fatigue of a long, sleepless, and excessively cold night.

Having made a short halt under the olive-trees at the side of the dilapidated town of Herkla, and taken a morsel of bread, we moved on with our poor animals without interruption till half an hour after noon, when we reached the funduk (or caravanserai) Sidi Bú Jʿafer, near Súsa, where we took up our quarters, in order to be able to start again at night, the gates of the town being kept shut till morning. Starting before three o’clock in the morning, we were exactly twelve hours in reaching el Jem, with the famous Castle of the Prophetess, still one of the most splendid monuments of Roman greatness, overhanging the most shabby hovels of Mohammedan indifference. On the way we had a fine view, towards the west, of the picturesque Jebel Trutsa, along the foot of which I had passed on my former wanderings, and of the wide, out-stretching Jebel Useleet.

Another ride of twelve hours brought us, on the 3rd of January, 1850, to Sfákes, where we were obliged to take up our quarters in the town, as our land-journey was here at an end, and we were to procure a vessel to carry us either direct to Tripoli, or to some other point on the opposite side of the Lesser Syrtis. The journey by land is not only expensive, particularly by people who are encumbered with a good deal of luggage, as we then were, and very long and tedious, but is also very unsafe, as I found from experience on my former journey. The island of Jirbi, which forms the natural station of the maritime intercourse between the regency of Tunis and that of Tripoli, had been put under the strictest rules of quarantine, rather from political considerations than from those of health, all intercourse with the mainland having been cut off. It was therefore with great difficulty that we succeeded in hiring a “gáreb” to carry us to Zwára, in which we embarked in the forenoon of Saturday the 5th of January.

During our two days’ stay in Sfákes we made the acquaintance of a Jew calling himself Baránes, but who is in truth the Jew servant named Jacob who accompanied Denham and Clapperton, and is several times mentioned in the narrative of those enterprising travellers as self-conceited and stubborn; yet he seems to be rather a clever fellow, and in some way or other contrives to be on the best terms with the governor. He communicated to us many anecdotes of the former expedition, and, among other things, a very mysterious history of a Danish traveller in disguise whom they met in Bórnu coming all the way from Dar-Fúr through Wadaï. There is not the least mention of such a meeting in the journal of the expedition, nor has such an achievement of a European traveller ever been heard of; and I can scarcely believe the truth of this story, though the Jew was quite positive about it.

The vessel in which we embarked was as miserable as it could be, there being only a small low cabin as high as a dog-kennel, and measuring, in its greatest width, from six to seven feet, where I and my companion were to pass the night. We thought that a run of forty-eight hours, at the utmost, would carry us across the gulf; but the winds in the Lesser Syrtis are extremely uncertain, and sometimes so violent that a little vessel is obliged to run along the coast. At first we went on tolerably well; but the wind soon became unfavourable, and in the evening we were obliged to cast anchor opposite Nekta, and, to our despair, were kept there till the afternoon of Tuesday, when at length we were enabled to go forward in our frail little shell, and reached Méheres—not Sidi Méheres, as it is generally called in the maps—in the darkness of night. Having made up our minds rather to risk anything than to be longer immured in such a desperate dungeon as our gáreb, we went on shore early on Wednesday morning with all our things, but were not able to conclude a bargain with some Bedouin of the tribe of the Léffet, who were watering their camels at the well.

The majestic ruins of a large castle, fortified at each corner with a round tower, give the place a picturesque appearance from the seaside. This castle is well known to be a structure of the time of Ibrahim the Aghlabite. In the midst of the ruins is a small mosque. But notwithstanding the ruinous state of the place, and the desolate condition of its plantations, there is still a little industry going on, consoling to the beholder in the midst of the devastation to which the fine province of Byzacium, once the garden of Carthage, is at present reduced. Several people were busily employed in the little marketplace making mats; and in the houses looms, weaving baracans, were seen in activity. But all around, the country presented a frightful scene of desolation, there being no object to divert the eye but the two apparently separate cones of Mount Wuedrán, far in the distance to the west, said to be very rich in sheep. The officer who is stationed here, and who showed us much kindness, furnishing us with some excellent red radishes of extraordinary size, the only luxury which the village affords, told us that not less than five hundred soldiers are quartered upon this part of the coast. On my former journey I had ample opportunity to observe how the Tunisian soldiery eat up the little which has been left to the peaceable inhabitants of this most beautiful, but most unfortunate country.

Having spent two days and two nights in this miserable place without being able to obtain camels, we resolved to try the sea once more, in the morning of the 11th, when the wind became northerly; but before the low-water allowed us to go on board, the wind again changed, so that, when we at length got under weigh in the afternoon, we could only move on with short tacks. But our captain, protected as he was by the Promontory of Méheres, dared to enter the open gulf. Quantities of large fish in a dying state, as is often the case in this shallow water when the wind has been high, were drifting round our boat. The sun was setting when we at length doubled the promontory of Kasr Unga, which we had already clearly distinguished on the 8th. However, we had now overcome the worst; and when on the following morning I emerged from our suffocating berth, I saw, to my great delight, that we were in the midst of the gulf, having left the coast far behind us. I now heard from our raïs that, instead of coasting as far as Tarf el má (“the border of the water”), a famous locality in the innermost corner of the Lesser Syrtis, which seems to preserve the memory of the former connection between the gulf and the great Sebkha or Shot el Kebír (the “palus Tritonis”), he had been so bold as to keep his little bark straight upon the channel of Jirbi.

Our voyage now became interesting; for while we were advancing at a fair rate, we had a charming view of the mountain-range, which in clear contours extended along in the distance behind the date-groves on the coast, seen only in faint outlines. The western part of the chain is very low, and forms almost a group apart, but after having been intersected by a gap or “gate,” the chain rises to greater elevation, being divided, as it would seem from hence, into three separate ranges enclosing fine valleys.

We had hoped to cross the difficult channel to-day; but the wind failing, we were obliged to anchor and await the daylight, for it is not possible to traverse the straits in the night, on account of their extreme shallowness. Even in the light of the following day, when we at length succeeded, our little bark, which drew only two or three feet, struck twice, and we had some trouble to get afloat again. On the conspicuous and elevated promontory the “Jurf,” or “Tarf el jurf,” stood in ancient times a temple of Venus, the hospitable goddess of the navigator. Here on my former journey I crossed with my horses over from the main to the Island of Jirbi, while from the water I had now a better opportunity of observing the picturesque character of the rugged promontory. After traversing the shallow basin or widening, we crossed the second narrowing, where the castles which defended the bridge or “kantara,” the “pons Zitha” of the Romans, now lie in ruins on the main as well as on the island, and greatly obstruct the passage, the difficulty of which has obtained celebrity from contests between Islam and Christianity in comparatively modern times.

Having passed safely through this difficult channel, we kept steadily on through the open sea; and doubling Rás Mʿamúra, near to which our captain had a little date-grove and was cheerfully saluted by his family and friends, we at length entered the harbour of Zarzís, late in the afternoon of Sunday, and with some trouble got all our luggage carried into the village, which is situated at some distance. For although we had the worst part of the land journey now before us, the border-district of the two regencies, with the unsafe state of which I was well acquainted from my former journey, and although we were insufficiently armed, we were disposed to endure anything rather than the imprisonment to which we were doomed in such a vessel as our Mohammed’s gáreb. I think, however, that this nine days’ sail between Sfákes and Zarzís, a distance of less than a hundred and twenty miles, was on the whole a very fair trial in the beginning of an undertaking the success of which was mainly dependent upon patience and resolute endurance. We were rather fortunate in not only soon obtaining tolerable quarters, but also in arranging without delay our departure for the following day, by hiring two horses and three camels.

Zarzís consists of five separate villages—Kasr Bú ʿAli, Kasr Mwanza, Kasr Welád Mohammed, Kasr Welád Sʿaid, and Kasr Zawíya; the Bedouin in the neighbourhood belong to the tribe of the Akára. The plantation also is formed into separate date-groves. The houses are in tolerable repair and neatly whitewashed; but the character of order and well-being is neutralised by a good many houses in decay. Near the place there are also some Roman ruins, especially a cistern of very great length; and at some distance is the site of Medinet Ziyán, of which I have given a description in the narrative of my former journey.

Besides the eight men attached to our five animals, we were joined here by four pilgrims and three Tripolitan traders; we thus made up a numerous body, armed with eight muskets, three blunderbusses, and fourteen pistols, besides several straight swords, and could venture upon the rather unsafe road to the south of the Lake of Bibán, though it would have been far more agreeable to have a few trustworthy people to rely on instead of these turbulent companions. Entering soon, behind the plantation of Zarzís, a long narrow sebkha, we were struck by the sterile and desolate character of the country, which was only interrupted by a few small depressed localities, where a little corn was cultivated. Keeping along this tract of country, we reached the north-western corner of the Lake of Bibán, or Bahéret el Bibán, after a little more than eight miles. This corner has even at the present day the common name of Khashm el kelb (the Dog’s Nose), while the former classical name of the whole lake, Sebákh el keláb, was only known to Tayyef, the more learned of my guides, who, without being questioned by me, observed that in former times towns and rich cornfields had been where the lake now is, but had been swallowed up by a sinking of the ground. The real basin has certainly nothing in common with a sebkha, which means a shallow hollow, incrusted with salt, which at times is dry and at others forms a pool; for it is a deep gulf or fiord of the sea, with which it is connected only by a narrow channel called Wád mtʿa el Bibán. The nature of a sebkha belongs at present only to its shores, chiefly to the locality called Makháda, which, indenting the country to a great distance, is sometimes very difficult to pass, and must be turned by a wide circuitous path, which is greatly feared on account of the neighbourhood of the Udérna, a tribe famous for its highway robberies. Having traversed the Makháda (which at present was dry) without any difficulty, we entered upon good arable soil, and encamped, after sunset, at about half a mile distance from a Bedouin encampment.

Starting from here the following day, we soon became aware that the country was not so thinly inhabited as we had thought; for numerous herds covered the rich pasture-grounds, while droves of gazelles, now and then, attested that the industry of man did not encroach here upon the freedom of the various orders of creation. Leaving the path near the ruins of a small building situated upon a hill, I went with Tayyef and the Khalífa to visit the ruins of a Roman station on the border of the Bahéra, which, under the name of el Medaina, has a great fame amongst the neighbouring tribes, but which, with a single exception, are of small extent and bad workmanship. This exception is the quay, which is not only of interest in itself, formed as it is of regularly hewn stones, in good repair, but of importance as an evident proof that the lake was much deeper in ancient times than it is now. Traversing from this spot the sebkha, which our companions had gone round, we soon overtook them, and kept over fine pasture-grounds called el Fehén, and further on, Súllub, passing, a little after noon, a group of ruins near the shore, called Kitfi el hamár. At two o’clock in the afternoon, we had directly on our right a slight slope which, according to the unanimous statement of our guides and companions, forms the frontier between the two regencies; and keeping along it we encamped an hour afterwards between the slope and the shore, which a little further on forms the deep gulf called Mirsá Buréka.

Starting at an early hour, we reached after a march of ten miles the ruins of a castle on the sea-shore, called Búrj el Melha, to which those of a small village, likewise built of hewn stone, are joined, while a long and imposing mole called el Míná juts out into the gulf. Four and a half miles further on we reached the conspicuous hill on the top of which is the chapel of the saint Sidi Sʿaid ben Salah, sometimes called Sidi Gházi, and venerated by such of the natives as are not attached to the Puritan sect of el Mádani, of which I shall speak hereafter. All our companions went there to say a short prayer. Here we left the shore, and, having watered our animals near a well and passed the chapel of Sidi Sʿaid, close to which there are some ruins, we passed with expedition over fine meadows till we approached the plantation of Zowára, when, leaving Mr. Overweg and my people behind, I rode on with the Khalífa, in order to procure quarters from my former friend Sʿaid bu Semmín, who, as I had heard to my great satisfaction, had been restored to the government of that place. He had just on that very day returned from a visit of some length in the capital, and was delighted to see me again; but he was rather astonished when he heard that I was about to undertake a far more difficult and dangerous journey than my former one along the coast, in which he well knew that I had had a very narrow escape. However, he confided in my enterprising spirit and in the mercy of the Almighty, and thought if anybody was likely to do it, I was the man.

We had now behind us the most dreary part of our route, having entered a district which in ancient times numbered large and wealthy cities, among which Sabratha stands foremost, and which even in the present miserable state of the country is dotted with pleasant little date-groves, interrupted by fine pasture-grounds. In the westernmost part of this tract, however, with the exception of the plantation of Zowára, all the date-groves, as those of Rikdalíye, Jemíl, el Meshíah, and Jenán ben Síl, lie at a considerable distance from the coast, while the country near the sea is full of sebkhas, and very monotonous, till the traveller reaches a slight ridge of sand-hills about sixteen miles east from Zowára, which is the border between the dreary province of that government and a more favoured tract belonging to the government of Bú-ʿAjíla, and which lies a little distance inland. Most charming was the little plantation, of Kasr ʿalaiga, which exhibited traces of industry and improvement. Unfortunately our horses were too weak and too much fatigued to allow us to visit the sites either of Sabratha or Pontes. The ruins of Sabratha are properly called Kasr ʿalaiga, but the name has been applied to the whole neighbourhood; to the ancient Pontes seem to belong the ruins of Zowára eʾ sherkíyeh, which are considerable. Between them lies the pretty grove of Om el hallúf.

About four o’clock in the afternoon we traversed the charming little valley called Wady bú-harída, where we watered our horses; and then following the camels, and passing Asermán with its little plantation, which is bordered by a long and deep sebkha, we took up our quarters for the night in an Arab encampment, which was situated in the midst of the date-grove of ʿUkbah, and presented a most picturesque appearance, the large fires throwing a magic light upon the date-trees. But there are no roses without thorns: we were unfortunately persuaded to make ourselves comfortable in an Arab tent, as we had no tent of our own; and the enormous swarms of fleas not only disturbed our night’s rest, but followed us to Tripoli.

We had a long stretch the following day to reach the capital, which we were most anxious to accomplish, as we expected Mr. Richardson would have arrived before us in consequence of our own tedious journey; and having sent the Khalífa in advance to keep the gate open for us, we succeeded in reaching the town after an uninterrupted march of thirteen hours and a half, and were most kindly received by Mr. Crowe, Her Majesty’s consul-general, and the vice-consul Mr. Reade, with whom I was already acquainted. We were surprised to find that Mr. Richardson had not even yet been heard of, as we expected he would come direct by way of Malta. But he did not arrive till twelve days after. With the assistance of Mr. Reade, we had already finished a great deal of our preparations, and would have gladly gone on at once; but neither the boat, nor the instruments, nor the arms or tents had as yet arrived, and a great deal of patience was required. However, being lodged in the neat house of the former Austrian consul, close to the harbour, and which commands a charming prospect, our time passed rapidly by.

On the 25th of January Mr. Reade presented Mr. Overweg and me to Yezíd Bashá, the present governor, who received us with great kindness and good feeling. On the 29th we had a pleasant meeting with Mr. Frederic Warrington on his return from Ghadámes, whither he had accompanied Mr. Charles Dickson, who on the 1st of January had made his entry into that place as the first European agent and resident. Mr. F. Warrington is perhaps the most amiable possible specimen of an Arabianized European. To this gentleman, whose zeal in the objects of the expedition was beyond all praise, I must be allowed to pay my tribute as a friend. On setting out in 1850, he accompanied me as far as the Ghurián; and on my joyful return in 1855 he received me in Murzuk. By the charm of friendship he certainly contributed his share to my success.

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As soon as it became apparent that the preparations for our final departure for the interior would require at least a month, Mr. Overweg and I resolved to employ the interval in making a preliminary excursion through the mountainous region that encompasses Tripoli in a radius of from sixty to eighty miles. With this view, we hired two camels, with a driver each, and four donkeys, with a couple of men, for ourselves and our two servants, Mohammed Belál, the son of a liberated Háusa slave, and Ibrahim, a liberated Bagirmi slave, whom we had been fortunate enough to engage here; and through the Consul’s influence we procured a shoush, or officer, to accompany us the whole way. Neither the instruments provided by Her Majesty’s Government, nor the tents and arms, had as yet arrived. But Mr. Overweg had a good sextant, and I a good chronometer, and we were both of us provided with tolerably good compasses, thermometers, and an aneroid barometer. Mr. Frederic Warrington, too, was good enough to lend us a tent.

We had determined to start in the afternoon of the 4th of February, 1850, so as to pass the first night in Ghargásh; but meeting with delays, we did not leave the town till after sunset. We preferred encamping, therefore, in the Meshíah, a little beyond the mosque, under the palm-trees, little knowing at the time what an opportunity we had lost of spending a very cheerful evening. Soon after starting, we emerged from the palm-groves which constitute the charm of Tripoli, and continued our march over the rocky ground. Being a little in advance with the shoush, I halted to wait for the rest, when a very peculiar cry, that issued from the old Roman building on the roadside, called “Kasr el Jahalíyeh,” perplexed us for a moment. But we soon learnt, to our great surprise, not unmixed with regret, that it was our kind friend Frederic Warrington, who had been waiting for us here the whole night. From the top of the ruin, which stands on an isolated rock left purposely in the midst of a quarry, there is a widely extensive view. It appears that, before the Arabs built the castle, this site was occupied by Roman sepulchres. A little further on we passed the stone of Sidi ʿArífa. This stone had fallen upon the head of a workman who was digging a well. The workman, so runs the legend, escaped unhurt; and at Sidi ʿArífa’s word the stone once more sprung to the surface. Further on, near the sea-shore, we passed the chapel of Sidi Salah, who is said to have drawn by magic to his feet, from the bottom of the sea, a quantity of fish ready dressed.

From this point our kind friend Mr. Frederic Warrington returned with his followers to the town, and we were left to ourselves. We then turned off from the road, and entered the fine date-plantation of Zenzúr, celebrated in the fourteenth century, as one of the finest districts of Barbary, by the Sheikh eʾ Tijáni, passing by a great magazine of corn, and a mouldering clay-built castle, in which were quartered a body of horsemen of the Urshefána. Fine olive-trees pleasingly alternated with the palm-grove, while the borders of the broad sandy paths were neatly fenced with the Cactus opuntia. Having passed our former place of encampment in Sayáda, we were agreeably surprised to see at the western end of the plantation a few new gardens in course of formation; for there is a tax, levied not on the produce of the tree, but on the tree itself, which naturally stands in the way of new plantations. Having halted for a short time at noon near the little oasis of Sidi Ghár, where the ground was beautifully adorned with a profusion of lilies; and having passed Jedaim, we encamped towards evening in the wide courtyard of the Kasr Gamúda, where we were kindly received by the Kaimakám Mustapha Bey, whom I was providentially destined to meet twice again, viz. on my outset from, and on my final return to, Fezzan. The whole plantation of Zawíya, of which Gamúda forms a part, is said to contain a hundred and thirty thousand palm-trees.

Ibrahim gave me an interesting account to-day of Negroland. Though a native of Bagirmi, he had rambled much about Mandara, and spoke enthusiastically of the large and strong mountain-town Karawa, his report of which I afterwards found quite true; of the town of Mendif, situated at the foot of the great mountain of the same name; and of Mora, which he represented as very unsafe on account of bands of robbers,—a report which has been entirely confirmed by Mr. Vogel. Our chief interest at that time was concentrated upon Mandara, which was then supposed to be the beginning of the mountainous zone of Central Africa.

While the camels were pursuing the direct track, we ourselves, leaving our former road, which was parallel to the sea-coast, and turning gradually towards the south, made a circuit through the plantation, in order to procure a supply of dates and corn, as we were about to enter on the zone of nomadic existence. The morning was very fine, and the ride pleasant. But we had hardly left the plantation, when we exchanged the firm turf for deep sand-hills which were broken further on by a more favoured soil, where melons were cultivated in great plenty; and again, about four miles beyond the plantation, the country once more assumed a genial aspect. I heard that many of the inhabitants of Zawíya habitually exchange every summer their more solid town residences for lighter dwellings here in the open air. A little before noon we obtained a fine view over the diversified outlines of the mountains before us. In the plain there are many favoured spots bearing corn, particularly the country at the foot of Mount Mʿamúra, which forms a very conspicuous object from every side. As we advanced further, the country became well inhabited, and everywhere, at some distance from the path, were seen encampments of the tribe of the Belása who occupy all the grounds between the Urshefána and the BuʿAjíla, while the Urjímma, a tribe quite distinct from the Urghámma, have their settlements south-west, between the Nuwayíl and the BuʿAjíla. All these Arabs hereabouts provide themselves with water from the well Núr eʾ dín, which we left at some distance on our left.

The encampment near which we pitched our tent in the evening belonged to the chief of the Belása, and consisted of seven tents, close to the slope of a small hilly chain. We had scarcely pitched our tent when rain set in, accompanied by a chilly current of air which made the encampment rather uncomfortable. The chief, Mohammed Chélebi, brought us, in the evening, some bazín, the common dish of the Arab of Tripoli. We wanted to regale him with coffee, but, being afraid of touching the hot drink, and perhaps suspicious of poison, he ran away.

Continuing our march southward through the fine and slightly undulating district of el Habl, where water is found in several wells, at the depth of from fifteen to sixteen fathoms, we gradually approached the mountain-chain. The strong wind, which filled the whole air with sand, prevented us from obtaining a very interesting view from a considerable eminence called el Ghunna, the terminating and culminating point of a small chain of hills, which we ascended. For the same reason, when I and Ibrahim, after lingering some time on this interesting spot, started after our camels, we lost our way entirely, the tracks of our little caravan being totally effaced, and no path traceable over the undulating sandy ground. At length we reached firmer grassy soil, and, falling in with the path, overtook our people at the “Bir el Ghánem.”

Hence we went straight towards the slope of the mountains, and after little more than an hour’s march reached the first advanced hill of the chain, and began to enter on it by going up one of the wadys which open from its flanks. It takes its name from the ethel (Tamarix orientalis), which here and there breaks the monotony of the scene, and gradually widens to a considerable plain bounded by majestic ridges. From this plain we descended into the deep and rugged ravine of the large Wady Sheikh, the abrupt cliffs of which presented to view beautiful layers of red and white sandstone, with a lower horizontal layer of limestone, and we looked out for a well-sheltered place, as the cold wind was very disagreeable. The wady has its name from its vicinity to the chapel, or zawíya, of the Merábet Bu-Máti, to which is attached a large school. On setting out from this hollow we ascended the other side, and soon obtained an interesting view of the varied outlines of the mountains before us, with several half-deserted castles of the Arab middle ages on the summits of the hills. The castle of the Welád Merabetín, used by the neighbouring tribes chiefly as a granary, has been twice destroyed by the Turks; but on the occasion of nuptial festivities, the Arabs, in conformity with ancient usage, still fire their muskets from above the castle. The inhabitants of these mountains, who have a strong feeling of liberty, cling to their ancient customs with great fondness.

We descended again into Wady Sheikh, which, winding round, crossed our path once more. The regular layers of limestone, which present a good many fossils, with here and there a layer of marl, form here, during heavy rains, a pretty little cascade at the foot of the cliffs. We lost much time by getting entangled in a branch of the wady, which had no outlet, but exhibited the wild scenery of a glen, worn by the torrents which occasionally rush down the abrupt rocky cliffs. Having regained the direct road, we had to cross a third time the Wady Sheikh at the point where it is joined by Wady Ginna, or Gilla, which also we crossed a little further on. In the fertile zone along the coast, the monotony of the palm-groves becomes almost fatiguing; but here we were much gratified at the sight of the first group of date-trees, which was succeeded by others, and even by a small orchard of fig-trees. Here, as we began to ascend the elevated and abrupt eastern cliffs of the valley, which at first offer only a few patches of cultivated plateau, succeeded further on by olive-trees, a fine view opened before us, extending to the south-east as far as the famous Roman monument called Enshéd eʾ Sufét, which is very conspicuous. Having waited here for our camels, we reached the first village, whose name, “Ta-smeraye,” bears, like that of many others, indubitable proof that the inhabitants of these mountainous districts belong originally to the Berber race, though at present only a few of them speak their native tongue. These people had formerly a pleasant and comfortable abode in this quarter, but having frequently revolted against the Turks, they have been greatly reduced, and their villages at present look like so many heaps of ruins.

Having passed some other hamlets in a similar state of decay, and still going through a pleasant but rather arid country, we reached the oppressor’s stronghold, the “Kasr il Jebel,” as it is generally called, although this part of the mountains bears the special name of Yefren. It lies on the very edge of the steep rocky cliffs, and affords an extensive view over the plain. But though standing in a commanding position, it is itself commanded by a small eminence a few hundred yards eastward, where there was once a large quadrangular structure, now in ruins. The castle, which at the time of our visit was the chief instrument in the hands of the Turks for overawing the mountaineers, contained a garrison of four hundred soldiers. It has only one bastion with three guns, at the southern corner, and was found by Mr. Overweg to be 2,150 feet above the level of the sea. The high cliffs inclosing the valley are most beautifully and regularly stratified in layers of gypsum and limestone; and a man may walk almost round the whole circumference of the ravine on the same layer of the latter stone, which has been left bare,—the gypsum, of frailer texture, having been carried away by the torrents of rain which rush violently down the steep descent. From the little eminence above mentioned, there is a commanding view over the valleys and the high plain towards the south.

After our tent had been pitched, we received a visit from Haj Rashíd, the Kaimakám or governor, who is reckoned the second person in the Bashalík, and has the whole district from Zwára as far as Ghadámes towards the south-west and the Tarhóna towards the south-east, under his military command. His salary is 4,600 mahhbúbs annually, or about 720l. He had previously been Basha of Adana, in Cilicia; and we indulged, to our mutual gratification, in reminiscences of Asia Minor.

Early in the morning I walked to a higher eminence at some distance eastward from the castle, which had attracted my attention the day before. This conspicuous hill also was formerly crowned with a tower or small castle; but nothing but a solitary rustic dwelling now enlivens the solitude. The view was very extensive, but the strong wind did not allow of exact compass observations. While my companion remained near the castle, engaged in his geological researches, I agreed with our shoush and a Zintáni lad whom I accidentally met here, and who on our journey to Fezzan proved very useful, to undertake a longer excursion towards the west, in order to see something more of this interesting and diversified slope of the plateau.

I was anxious to visit a place called Ta-gherbúst, situated on the north side of the castle, along the slope of a ravine which runs westward into the valley; accordingly, on leaving the site of our encampment, we deviated at first a little northwards. Ta-gherbúst is said to have been a rich and important place in former times. Some of its inhabitants possessed as many as ten slaves; but at present it is a heap of ruins, with scarcely twenty-five inhabited houses. From hence, turning southward, we descended gradually along the steep slope, while above our heads the cliffs rose in picturesque majesty, beautifully adorned by scattered date-trees, which, at every level spot, sprung forth from the rocky ground, and gave to the whole scene a very charming character. A fountain which gushed out from a cavern on a little terrace at the foot of the precipice, and fed a handsome group of date-trees, was one of the most beautiful objects that can be imagined.

The Turks, two years ago, made a small path leading directly down from the castle to this fountain, which supplies them with water. After sketching this beautiful spot while the animals were watering, we followed a more gradual descent into the valley of el Ghasás, which here with a rough level widens to a plain, while its upper or southern part, called Wady Rumíye, forms a very narrow and picturesque ravine. We then continued our march in a westerly direction, having on our right the plain extending, with slight undulations, towards the sea, and on our left the majestic offshoots of the plateau jutting into the plain like vast promontories, with a general elevation of two thousand feet. This grand feature is evidently due to the waters which, in ancient times, must have rushed down the slope of the plateau in mighty streams. At present, the chief character of the country is aridity. On asking my guide whether great torrents are not still occasionally formed along those ravines strong enough to reach the sea, he replied, that once only—forty-four years ago—such a torrent was formed, which, passing by Zenzúr, gave a red colour to the sea as far as the Island of Jirbi. He also informed me that, in general, all the waters from the ridge joined the Wady Haera.

On our left, in the valley Khalaifa, a group of date-trees, fed by an abundant spring called Ain el Wuaníye, forms a conspicuous and interesting object; while, in general, these valleys or ravines exhibit, besides small brushwood, only trees of the siddre (Rhamnus nabeca), jári, and batúm tribe. The batúm-tree (Pistacia Atlantica) produces the fruit called gatúf, which is used by the Arabs for a great variety of purposes. Small brushwood or gandul, also, and various sorts of herbage, such as sebót, shedíde, and shʿade, enliven the ground.

As we advanced, we changed our direction gradually to the south-west, and entered the mountainous region. On our right there extended far into the plain a steep narrow promontory, which had served as a natural fortress to the mountaineers in the last war with the Turks; but no water being found near it, its occupants were soon reduced to extremities. Having gone round the last promontory on our left, we entered the picturesque valley “Welád ʿAli,” once adorned with orchards and groves of date-trees, but at present reduced to a desolate wilderness, only a few neglected fig-trees and scattered palms still remaining to prove how different the condition of this spot might be. After we had commenced our ascent along the side of the ravine, in order to return upon the level of the plateau, we made a short halt near a cluster of about eighty date-trees. But the ascent became extremely steep, especially near the middle of the slope, where the water, rushing down in cascades, has laid bare the limestone rock, and formed a sort of terrace. Here, on the east side of the cascade, is a spring in a well, called ʿAin el Gatár mtʿa Welád ʿAli. On both of the summits overlooking the slope are two villages of the Riaina, the eastern one a little larger than the other, but at present not containing more than about thirty stone-built cottages. In both we tried in vain to buy a little barley for our cattle, as we knew not whether, at our halting-place for the night, we might be able to obtain any; but we got plenty of dried figs for ourselves. This slope, with its ravines and valleys, might certainly produce a very considerable quantity of fruit; and in this respect it resembles in character that of the so-called Kabylia in Algiers. The rearing of fruit-trees seems to be a favourite occupation of the Berber race, even in the more favoured spots of the Great Desert.

Continuing our march on the summit of the plateau, we reached the village Kasr Shellúf, which exhibited far greater opulence, as it had escaped being ransacked by the Turks in the last war. Most probably in consequence of this circumstance, its inhabitants are more hospitably disposed than those of Riaina: but the cave or cellar in which they wanted to lodge me, had nothing very attractive for a night’s quarters, so that I urged my two companions onward. Having continued our south-westerly direction for awhile, and passed another village, we thought it safer to turn our steps eastwards, and took the direction of the zawíya or convent situated on the summit of the promontory; but when we reached it, just after dusk, the masters or teachers of the young men, who are sent to this holy place for education, refused to admit us for the night, so that we were obliged to go on and try to reach one of the five villages of Khalaifa. At length, after a very difficult descent down the steep rocky slope in the dark, we succeeded in reaching the principal village, and, after some negotiation, occasioned by the absence of the Kaid Bel Kasem, who is chief of the Khalaifa as well as of the Wuërje, we at length obtained admission, and even something to eat, my companions (rather against my will) representing me as a Turk.

Our route on leaving the village was very pleasant, winding round the sloping sides of several ravines, among which that formed by the rivulet Wuaniye, and adorned with date-trees, was the most beautiful. Ascending gradually, we reached again the level of the plateau, and obtained an extensive prospect, with the remarkable monument Enshéd eʾ Sufét as a conspicuous and attractive landmark in the distance. The elevated level had a slight undulation, and was clothed with halfa (Cynosurus durus) and gedím. However, we did not long continue on it, but descended into the well-irrigated valley Rumíye, which is extremely fertile, but also extremely unhealthy, and notorious for its fevers. The beauty of the scenery, enlivened as it is by a considerable torrent foaming along the ravine, and feeding luxuriant clusters of palm, pomegranate, fig, and apricot trees, surpassed my expectation.

Having kept awhile along this picturesque ravine, we ascended its eastern side, and then followed the very edge of the steep, directly for the castle; but before reaching our tent we were obliged to cross a deep branch of the ravine. There was some little activity to-day about the castle, it being the market-day; but the market was really miserable, and the Turkish troops, exercising outside the castle, could ill supply the want of national welfare and prosperity. If a just and humane treatment were guaranteed to these tribes, even under a foreign rule, the country might still enjoy plenty and happiness. Most of the tribes westward from the Riaina—namely, the Zintán, who formerly were very powerful, and even at present hold some possessions as far as Fezzan, the Rujbán, the Fissátu, the Welád Shebel, the Selemát, the Arhebát, the Harába, the Génafíd, the Kabáw, and the Nalúd, belong to the Berber race.

After a friendly parting from the Kaimakám, we broke up our encampment near the kasr, in the afternoon, in order to continue our tour eastward along the varied border of the plateau, under the guidance of a faithful black servant of the governor, whose name was Barka. Having passed several smaller villages, we reached Um eʾ Zerzán, a considerable village, situated on a round hill in the midst of a valley, ornamented with fine olive-trees, and surrounded by fine orchards. Um eʾ Zerzán is well known among the mountaineers as a centre of rebellion. The neighbourhood is full of reminiscences of the late war, and about two miles in the rear of the village are the remains of strong walls called el Matarís, behind which the Arabs made some stand against the Turks. Having passed a solitary rustic dwelling surrounded with a thriving olive-plantation, we reached the ruins of a castle or village from which the Roman sepulchre, known among the Arabs by the name Enshéd eʾ Sufét, burst suddenly upon our view.

After an extremely cold night on this high rocky ground, the thermometer in the morning indicating only 5° above freezing-point, with the dawn of day I mounted the hill opposite to the monument, commanding an extensive view.[4] It was a level tableland, uninterrupted by any higher eminence; but the landscape seemed to me highly characteristic, and I made a sketch of it.

Upon this hill there was formerly a castle built of hewn stone. The foundation walls, which are still traceable, show that it faced the east, the eastern and the western sides measuring each 57 ft. 8 in., the northern and southern, not more than 54 ft. On the eastern side there was a strong outwork protecting the gate, and measuring 16 ft. 11 in. on the north and south sides, and 12 ft. 1 in. on the east side, where there was a large gate 9 ft. 1 in. wide. This outwork juts off from the castle at 17 ft. 6 in. from the south corner. It was evidently a Roman castle; but after the dominion of the Romans and Byzantines had passed away, the Berbers appear to have strengthened it by adding another outwork on the west side, not, however, in the same grand style as the Romans, but with small irregular stones, putting bastions to the corners, and surrounding the whole castle with considerable outworks on the slope of the hill.

The Roman castle has been swept away; but the Roman sepulchre is still preserved, with almost all its architectural finery, and is still regarded by the surrounding tribes with a certain awe and reverence.[5] It was most probably the sepulchre of a Roman commander of the castle in the time of the Antonines; hence, in my opinion, the name Sufét, by which the natives have distinguished it. It is certainly not a Punic monument, though it is well known that the Punic language was generally spoken in several towns of this region much later than the second century after Christ. The style of its architecture testifies that it belongs to the second century; but no inscription remains to tell its story.

This interesting monument is situated on an eminence a little less elevated than that on which the castle is built, and south-westward from it. Its whole height is about 36 ft. The base or pedestal measures 16 ft. 8¾ in. on the west and east, and 16 ft. north and south. Its elevation varies greatly from east to west, on account of the sloping ground, the eastern side measuring 3 ft. 2 in., the western 5 ft. 7 in. In the interior of this base is the sepulchral chamber, measuring 7 ft. 1 in. from north to south, and 6 ft. 6 in. from east to west, and remarkable for the peculiar construction of the roof. Upon this lowest part of the base rises a second one 15 ft. 9 in. west and east, 14 ft. 3¾ in. north and south, and 2 ft. 1 in. high; and on this a third one, measuring 14 ft. 7½ in. west and east, 13 ft. 10¼ in. north and south, and 1 ft. 7 in. in height. Upon this base rose the principal part of the monument, 13 ft. 7 in. high, and measuring at its foot 13 ft. 11½ in. west and east, decorated at the corners with pilasters, the feet of which measure 1 ft. 1¾ in., and the shaft 9¾ in. The moulding is handsomely decorated. Upon this principal body of the monument is constructed the upper story, about 10 ft. high, decorated with pilasters of the Corinthian order. On the south and west sides the walls are plain; but on the east side they are ornamented with a bow window enclosed with pilasters of the same order, and on the north side with a plain window running up the whole height of the body. Inside of this chamber stood, probably, the statue of the person in whose honour the monument was erected. The upper compartment has a plain moulding about four feet high, and surmounted by a cornice. The material of this interesting monument is a very fine limestone, which under the influence of the atmosphere has received a vivid brownish colour, almost like that of travertine. It was taken from a quarry, which extends all round the monument, and is full of caverns now used by shepherds as resting-places when they tend their flocks hereabouts.

Our camels had already gone on some time before we parted from this solitary memorial of Roman greatness; and after a little distance we passed the ruins of another Roman fort called Hanshír Hámed. The country hereabouts, forming a sort of bowl or hollow, and absorbing a great deal of moisture, is very fertile, and is also tolerably well cultivated; but after a while it becomes stony. Having here passed a village, we reached a beautiful little valley, the head of the Wady Sheikh, which is irrigated by two springs, that feed a splendid little orchard with all sorts of fruit. Here lies Swédna, a considerable village spreading over the whole eminence, and known on account of the murder of Mohammed Efendi. As the valley divides into two branches, we followed the main wady, and afterwards crossed it, where it formed a pretty brook of running water. We then wound along a narrow valley overgrown with halfa and sidr, and, changing our direction, took the road to Kikla. The valley soon became decked with olives, which gradually formed a fine plantation. This is the chief branch of industry of the inhabitants, the ground being rather stony, and not so fit for grain. The district of Kikla contains numerous villages, all of which suffered much from the last war, when a great number of people were slaughtered, and their dwellings ransacked, by the Turks. Several of these villages lay in small hollows, or on the slope of ravines, and exhibited rather a melancholy appearance. After some delay, we resumed our easterly direction towards Rabda, and soon came to the spot where the elevated ground descends abruptly into the deep and broad valley called Wady Rabda, over which we obtained an interesting view. To the left the slope broke into a variety of cones and small mounts, among which the Tarhóna—“the mill,” so called from a mill that stood formerly on its summit—is remarkable for its handsome shape; while in front of us rose an almost perpendicular cliff of limestone, on a turn of which, in a very commanding position, lies the village Jáfet, enclosed, and naturally defended, on every side by a deep ravine. Here we commenced our descent, which took us a whole hour; on the middle of the slope we passed a kiln for preparing gypsum. At length we reached the side valley, which joins the main wady on the west. It was ornamented with a few solitary date-trees, and the beautifully shaped slopes and cones of the Tarhóna were just illuminated by a striking variety of light and shade. The soil, a fertile marl, remained uncultivated. Gradually we entered the main valley, a grand chasm of about four miles and a half in width, which has been formed by the mighty rushing of the waters down the slope of the plateau. In its upper part it is called Wady Kérdemín, in its lower part Wady Sert. The industry of man might convert it into a beautiful spot; but at present it is a desolate waste, the monotonous halfa being the only clothing of the ground.

The eastern border presents a perpendicular rocky cliff about 1,500 feet high, on the brink of which lies the village Misga. The western border consists of a cluster of detached mounts and rocks. Among these a black cone, which attracted Mr. Overweg’s attention, was found on examination to be pure basalt, with certain indications of former volcanic action. From beyond this remarkable cone, a mount was visible crowned with a castle. As we proceeded, the valley became enlivened by two small Arab encampments. Here we gradually obtained a view of the date-grove of Rabda, which, from the foot of the steep eastern cliffs, slopes down into the bottom of the valley, and is overtopped, in the distance, by the handsome bifurcated Mount Manterús. But Rabda was too far off to be reached before sunset; and we encamped in the wady, near a group of five tents inhabited by Lasába or el Asába Arabs, whose chief paid us a visit and treated us with bazín, but declined tasting our coffee, probably thinking with his fellow-chief the other day, that we were in the service of the Turks, and wanted to poison him. All the people of these regions regard strangers with suspicion.

Soon after we had started we entered upon cultivated ground,—the first trace of industry we had seen in this spacious valley. The eastern cliffs formed here a wide chasm, through which a lateral valley joined the Wady Sert. On the southern shore of this valley lies the Kasr Lasába, from which a torrent that came forth from it, and crossed our route, presented a refreshing spectacle. Emerging gradually from the valley, we obtained an extensive view over the plain called el Gatís. Westward, as far as the well called Bír el Ghánem, little was to be seen which could gladden the eye of the husbandman. Towards the north-east the level is interrupted by a small range of hills, the culminating points of which, called el Guleát and Mʿanmúra, rise to a great elevation. Beyond this range the plain is called Shefána, the country of the Ur-shefána. At nine o’clock we reached the fine date-grove of the westernmost village of Rabda. It is fed by a copious spring, which arrested our attention. Following it up to trace its source, we were greatly surprised to find, in the heart of some date-trees, a basin fifty feet in length, and about thirty in breadth, in which the water was continually bubbling up and sending forth a considerable stream to spread life and cheerfulness around. The water gushed up at a temperature of 72° Fahr., while that of the air was only 52°. Besides dates, a large quantity of onions is produced in this fertile spot. The village itself was in former times the residence of Hamíd, a powerful Arab chieftain, who at one time ruled the whole mountainous district, but was obliged to yield to the Turks, and lives at present about Beni-Ulíd, where I had to deal with him on my home-journey in 1855.

The groves of the two villages of Rabda are not far apart. On the north-eastern side of the village are seven holy chapels called el Hararát. The eastern village lies upon a hill, over a hollow, in which spreads a date-grove, likewise fed by a spring called ʿAin Rabda eʾ sherkíyeh. On crossing a brook we obtained a view of the Jebel Shehésh, which, attached to the Tarhóna, stretches a long way westward, and even el Gunna was seen faintly in the distance. Thus we approached gradually the interesting bicorn of the dark-coloured Jebel Manterús, which we were bent on ascending. Alighting at the foot of the mount, near the border of a deep channel, we sent the camels on, but kept the shoush and our guide back to wait for us. It took me twenty-five minutes to reach the eastern and higher summit, on which there is the tomb of a merábet, a holy shepherd called Sidi Bu-Mʿaza; but I was disappointed in my expectation of obtaining a great extent of view, the cone of Mount Tekút and other mountains intervening. Towards the south only, a peep into the Wady el Ugla, bordered by high cliffs, slightly rewarded me for my trouble; and the mount itself is interesting, as it exhibits evident traces of volcanic action.

I had reached the western lower cone in descending, when I met my companion in his ascent, and, being anxious to overtake the camels, I started in advance of him, accompanied by the guide, along the Wady el Ugla. But my companions did not seem to agree as to the path to be pursued; and my guide, overlooking on the rocky ground the footsteps of the camels, which had taken the direct path to the Kasr Ghurián, wanted to take me by the wady, and, instead of ascending the eastern cliffs of the ravine, kept along it, where, from being narrow and rocky—the mere bed of a torrent,—it widens to a pleasant, cultivated, open valley, with rich marly soil, and adorned with an olive-grove. On a hill in the centre lies the first village of the district Ghurián.

We had begun to leave the principal valley by a lateral opening, when the shoush, overtaking us, led us back to the more northern and more difficult but shorter path which our camels had taken. The ascent was very steep indeed; and the path then wound along the mountain-side and across ravines, till at length we reached the olive-grove which surrounds the Kasr Ghurián; but in the dark we had some difficulty in reaching it, and still more in finding our companions, who at length, however, rejoined the party. In order to obtain something to eat, we were obliged to pay our respects to the governor; but the Turks in the castle were so suspicious that they would scarcely admit us. When at last they allowed us to slip through the gate in single file, they searched us for arms; but the governor having assured himself that we had no hostile intention, and that we were furnished with a letter from the basha, sent a servant to procure us a lodging in the homestead or housh of a man called Ibrahim, where we pitched our tent. It was then nine o’clock; and we felt quite disposed to enjoy some food and repose.

We paid a visit to the governor, who, as well as the aghá, received us with the civility usual with Turks, and, in order to do us honour, ordered the garrison, consisting of two hundred men, to pass in review before us. They were good-looking men and well conditioned, though generally rather young. He then showed us the magazines, which are always kept in good order, for fear of a revolt, but will be of no avail so long as the command rests with ignorant and unprincipled men. It is built on a spur of the tableland, commanding on the south and south-west side the Wady Rummána and the highroad into the interior. Towards the north the lower hilly ground intervenes between it and Mount Tekút.

Having returned to our quarters, we started on foot a little after mid-day, on an excursion to Mount Tekút, which, from its elevation and its shape, appeared to us well worth a visit. Descending the slope by the “trík tobbi,” a road made by the Turks, we reached the eastern foot of the mountain, after an hour and a half’s expeditious march through the village Gwásem, and olive-groves, and over a number of subterranean dwellings. My companion went round to the south side in search of an easier ascent. I chose the cliff just above us, which, though steep, indeed, and difficult on account of scattered blocks and stones, was not very high. Having once climbed it, I had easier work, keeping along the crest, which, winding upwards in a semicircle, gradually led to the highest point of the mountain, on the north side, with an absolute elevation of about 2,800 feet. On the top are the ruins of a chapel of Si Ramadán, which, I think, is very rarely visited. The crest, which has fallen in on the south-east side, encloses a perfectly circular little plain, resembling an amphitheatre, and called Shʿabet Tekút. The mount appears evidently to have been an active volcano in former times, yet my companion declared the rock not to be pure basalt. The view was very extensive, and I was able to take the angles of several conspicuous points. After we had satisfied our curiosity, we descended along the northern slope, which is much more gradual, being even practicable for horses, and left the “Shʿabet” by the natural opening. Thence we returned along the path called Um eʾ Nekhél, which passes by the Roman sepulchre described by Lyon in general terms, and situated in a very conspicuous position.

Accompanied by the shoush, I made an excursion in a south-westerly direction. The villages, at least those above the ground, are generally in a wretched condition and half deserted; still the country is in a tolerable state of cultivation, saffron and olive-trees being the two staple articles of industry. Passing the little subterranean village of Shuedeya, we reached the Kasr Teghrínna, originally a Berber settlement, as its name testifies, with a strong position on a perfectly detached hill. At present the kasr, or the village on the hill-top, is little more than a heap of ruins, inhabited only by a few families. At the northern foot of the hill a small village has recently been formed, called Menzel Teghrínna. On the west and east sides the hill is encompassed by a valley with a fine olive-grove, beyond which the Wady el Arbʿa stretches westwards; and it was by this roundabout way that my guide had intended to take me from Wady el Ugla to Kasr Ghurián. Protected by the walls, I was able to take a few angles; but the strong wind which prevailed soon made me desist.

From this spot I went to the villages called Ksúr Gamúdi. These once formed likewise a strong place, but were entirely destroyed in the last war, since which a new village has arisen at the foot of the rocky eminence. A few date-trees grow at the north foot of the hill, while it is well known, that the palm is rare in the Ghurián. As I was taking angles from the top of the hill, the inhabitants of the village joined me, and manifested a friendly disposition, furnishing me readily with any information, but giving full vent to their hatred of the Turks. As the most remarkable ruins of the time of the Jahalíyeh—or the pagans, as the occupants of the country before the time of Mohammed are called,—they mentioned to me, besides Ghirze, a tower or sepulchre called Metuïje, about two days’ journey south-east; Beluwár, another tower-like monument at less distance; and in a south-west direction ʿAmúd, a round edifice which has not yet been visited by any European.

The valley at the foot of the Ksúr Gamúdi is watered by several abundant springs, which once supplied nourishment for a great variety of vegetables; but the kitchen-gardens and orchards are at present neglected, and corn alone is now cultivated as the most necessary want. The uppermost of these springs, which are stated to be six in number, is called Sma Rhʿain—not an Arabic name. Beyond, towards the south, is Jehésha, further eastward Usáden, mentioned by Lyon, with a chapel, Geba with a chapel, and, going round towards the north, Shetán, and further on Mésufín. The country beyond Kuléba, a village forming the southern border of the Ghurián, is called Ghadáma, a name evidently connected with that of Ghadámes, though we know the latter to be at least of two thousand years’ standing.

Continuing our march through the valley north-east, and passing the village Bu-Mát and the ruined old places called Hanshír Metelíli and Hanshír Jamúm, we reached the ruins of another old place called Hanshír Settára, in the centre of the olive-grove. The houses, which in general are built of small irregular stones, present a remarkable contrast to a pair of immense slabs, above ten feet long and regularly hewn, standing upright, which I at first supposed to be remnants of a large building; but having since had a better opportunity of studying this subject, I concluded that they were erected, like the cromlechs, for some religious purpose. On the road back to our encampment, the inhabitants of Gamúdi, who were unwilling to part company with me, gave vent to their hatred against the Turks in a singular way. While passing a number of saffron-plantations, which I said proved the productiveness of their country, they maintained that the present production of saffron is as nothing compared to what it was before it came into the impious hands of the Osmanlis. In former times, they said, several stems usually shot forth from the same root, whereas now scarcely a single sample can be found with more than one stalk,—a natural consequence of the contamination or pollution (nejes) of the Turks, whose predominance had caused even the laws of nature to deteriorate. In order to prove the truth of this, they went about the fields and succeeded in finding only a single specimen with several stems issuing from the same root.

Passing the subterranean villages of Suayeh and Ushen, and further on that called Housh el Yehúd, which, as its name indicates, is entirely inhabited by Jews, we reached our encampment in the housh of Ibrahím. The subterranean dwellings which have been described by Captain Lyon, seem to me to have originated principally with the Jews, who from time immemorial had become intimately connected with the Berbers, many of the Berber tribes having adopted the Jewish creed; and just in the same way as they are found mingling with the Berbers in these regions—for the original inhabitants of the Ghurián belong entirely to the Berber race—on friendly terms, so are they found also in the recesses of the Atlas in Morocco.

I then went to see the market, which is held every Thursday on the open ground at the east side of the castle, close to the northern edge of the ridge. Though much better supplied than that near Kasr Jebel, it was yet extremely poor; only a single camel was offered for sale. This results from the mistrust of the inhabitants, who, in bringing their produce to the great market at Tripoli, are less exposed to vexations than here. When taking leave of the Kaimakám, we found the whole castle beset by litigants. I saw in the company of the governor the chief of the Haj caravan, the Sheikh el Rakeb, of whose grand entrance into the town I had been witness. The aghá, wanting to show us their little paradise, accompanied us into the Wady Rummána, which, in a direction from south-east to north-west, winds along the southern foot of the ridge on which the castle is situated. Though it looks rather wild and neglected, it is a charming retreat for the leisure hours of a governor of a place like this. It is irrigated by a very powerful spring issuing from the limestone rock in a channel widened by art, and then dividing into several little rills, which are directed over the terraces of the slope. These, of course, have been raised by art, and are laid out in orchards, which, besides the pomegranates which have given their name to the valley, produce sferéj (sfarájel)—the Malum Cydonium—of an excellent quality, figs, grapes, and almonds. A path, practicable even for horses, leads down from the castle to the spring. Before I left this charming spot, I made a sketch of the valley, with the castle on the cliffs.

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It was past three in the afternoon of Thursday, February 14th, when we started from the dwelling of our host, in order to pursue our route in a south-easterly direction. We were agreeably surprised to see fine vineyards at the village called Jelíli; but the cultivation of olive-trees seemed almost to cease here, while the country became quite open, and afforded an unbounded prospect towards the distant southern range, with its peaks, depressions, and steep slopes. But the fine olive-groves of Sgáif proved that we had not yet reached the limit of this useful tree. We were just about to descend the slope into the broad valley called Wady Rán, when, seeing darkness approaching, and frightened by the black clouds rising from the valley, together with a very chilly stream of air, we began to look seriously about for some secure shelter for the night. To our right we had a pleasant little hollow with olive-trees; but that would not suffice in such weather as was apparently approaching, and we therefore descended a little along the cliffs on our left, where our shoush knew that there were caverns called Merwán. Scarcely had we pitched our tent on the little terrace in front of these, when the rain began to pour down, and, accompanied with snow, continued the whole night.

When we arose next morning, the whole country was covered with snow about an inch deep, and its natural features were no longer recognisable. Placed on the very brink of a bank partly consisting of rocky ground, with many holes, partly of marly soil and accordingly very slippery, we could not think of starting. At half-past six, the thermometer stood at 34° Fahr. Fortunately our tent, which had been fitted by Mr. Warrington for every kind of weather, kept the wet out. The caverns were very irregular excavations, used by the shepherds as temporary retreats, and full of fleas. The snow did not melt till late in the afternoon, and the rain fell without intermission the whole night.

In the morning the bad weather still continued, but the cold was not quite so severe. Tired as we were of our involuntary delay in such a place, we decided upon starting; but it was difficult to get our half-frozen people to go to work. At length we set out, accompanied by an old man, whom we hired as guide, on the deep descent into Wady Rán. The soil was often so slippery that the camels could scarcely keep their feet; and we were heartily glad when, after an hour and a quarter’s descent, we at length reached stony ground, though still on the slope. Here the valley spread out before us to right and left, with the village Usíne, inhabited by the Merabetín Selahát, situated on the top of a hill, and distinguished for the quality of its dates, which are of a peculiar kind, short and thick with a very broad stone,—while at the foot of the western heights another village was seen, and on the top of them the castle Bústam. Here the great valley is joined by a smaller ravine, called Wady Nkhal, with a small village of the same name. We crossed two paths leading to Beni Ulíd, passing by Wady Rán, which went parallel to our course on the right, and where there are two springs and a date-grove, while to the left, we obtained a view of Sedi-úris, situated on a cone overtowering the northern end of Wady Kominshát. We then approached closely the steep glen of Wady Rán, and, after some turnings, crossed the small rivulet which flows through it, and, a little further on, recrossed it. Then, traversing the valley called Wady Marníyeh, we entered a fine fertile plain surrounded on all sides by heights, among which the Kelúba Naʿame was conspicuous on our right. But the camels found the marly soil, fully saturated as it was with rain, very difficult, especially after we had entered the “Shʿabet sóda.” For this reason, also, we could not think of following the direct path, which leads over the hills. At the western end of the shʿabet are the villages Deb Beni ʿAbas and Suadíyeh, with olive-groves. All the waters of the district are carried into Wady Rán, which joins the Wady Haera.

The country begins to exhibit decidedly a volcanic character, and from all the heights rise bare basaltic cones, while the lower part is covered with halfa. This character of the country seems to have been well understood by the Arabs, when they gave to these basins, surrounded by basaltic mounts, the name “Shʿabet,” which we have already seen given to the crater of the Tekút. Here, at a short distance on our left, we passed “another Shʿabet,” distinguished as “el Akhera.” At length we found an opening through the hilly chain on our right, behind an indented projection of the ridge called “Sennet el Osis,” and then suddenly changed our course from north-east to south-east. As soon as we had made the circuit of this mount, we obtained a view of the highest points of the Tarhóna, and directed our course by one of them, Mount Bíbel, which is said to be sometimes visible from Tripoli. Tales of deadly strife are attached to some localities hereabouts; and, according to our guide, the torrent which we crossed beyond Wady Ruéra poured down, some years ago, a bloody stream. But at present the scene wants life, the Kasr Kuséba, situated on the apex of a cone, being almost the only dwelling-place which we had seen for five hours. Life has fled from these fertile and pleasant regions; and the monotonous character which they at present exhibit necessarily impresses itself on the narrative of the traveller.

At length, after having entered the gorges of the mountains, we reached the encampment of the Merabetín Bu-ʿAáysha, and pitched our tent at a short distance from it. These people have considerable herds of camels and sheep; as for cattle, there are at present very few in the whole regency of Tripoli, except in the neighbourhood of Ben-gházi. Their chief, ʿAbdallah, who lives in Tripoli, is much respected. The valleys and plains hereabouts, when well saturated with rain, produce a great quantity of corn, but they are almost entirely destitute of trees. Having been thoroughly drenched to-day by heavy showers, we were in a very uncomfortable condition at its close.

About an hour before sunrise, when the thermometer stood at 41°, I set out to ascend an eminence north from our tent, which afforded me an excellent site whence to take the bearings of several prominent cones. After my return to the tent, we started together in advance of the camels, that we might have time to ascend the broad cone of Jebel Msíd, which had arrested our attention. We soon passed a well, or rather fountain, called Bir el ʿAr, which gives its name to some ancient monument (“sanem,” or idol, as it is called by the Arabs) at a little distance, and which the guide described as a kasr tawíl Beni Jehel, “a high fortress of the Romans.” The country was varied and pleasant, and enlivened, moreover, by flocks; but we saw no traces of agriculture till we reached the well called Hasi el abiár, beyond which we entered upon a volcanic formation. As we ascended along a small ravine, and entered another irregular mountain-plain of confined dimensions, we found the basalt in many places protruding from the surface. The more desolate character of the country was interrupted in a pleasant way by the Wady Nekhél, which has received its name from the number of palm-trees which grow here in a very dwarfish state, though watered by a copious spring. Following the windings of another small valley, we reached a plain at the foot of Mount Msíd, while on the right a large ravine led down from the heights. Here we commenced our ascent of the cone; and on the slope of the mountain we met with large pillars similar to those which I had seen in the ruins of Hanshír Settára. The pillars succeeded each other at regular distances up the slope, apparently marking the track to be followed by those ascending for religious purposes. The ascent was very gradual for the first twelve minutes; and twelve minutes more brought us to its summit, which was crowned with a castle of good Arabic masonry of about the thirteenth century. Its ruined walls gave us a little protection against the very strong blasts of wind; but we found it rather difficult to take accurate angles, which was the more to be regretted as a great many peaks were visible from this beautifully shaped and conspicuous mount.

It was a little past noon when we pursued our journey from the western foot of this once holy mount, and, turning its southern side, resumed our north-easterly direction. We then soon came to the “Wady hammám,” which forms here a wider basin for the brook running along it towards Mejenín, so as to produce a pleasant and fresh green spot. Having watered our animals, we entered a plain from which detached basaltic hillocks started up; and some ruins of regularly hewn stones, scattered about, bore testimony that the Romans had deemed the place worthy of fixed settlements. A small limestone hill contrasts handsomely with these black basaltic masses, among which the Leblú, the highest summit of a larger group to our right, is particularly remarkable. At the foot of the Jebel Jemmʿa was an encampment of the Welád ʿAli; but I cannot say in what degree they are connected with the family which has given its name to the valley in the Yefren. From this side in particular, the Jebel Msíd presents the form of a beautiful dome, the most regular I remember to have ever seen. It seems to rise with a proud air over its humbler neighbours. Having then passed a continuous ridge of cones stretching south-south-east, and cleared the basaltic region, we entered a wide plain covered with halfa, and, cutting right across it, we reached the fertile low plain Elkeb, where another encampment of the Welád ʿAli excited the desire of our people to try their hospitality for our night’s quarters; but some distance to the left two enormous pillars were to be seen standing upright, and thither we repaired. Here I had an opportunity of accurately investigating a very peculiar kind of ancient remains, giving a clue, I hope, to the character of the religion of the early inhabitants of these regions, though it seems impossible to give a satisfactory explanation respecting all the details of their structure.

It consists of a pair of quadrangular pillars erected on a common basis, which is fixed into the ground, and measures 3 ft. 1⁵⁄₁₂ in. in length, and 2 ft. 10 in. in width. The two pillars, which measure 2 ft. on each side, being 1 ft. 7²⁄₁₀ in. asunder, are 10 ft. high. The western pillar has three quadrangular holes on the inside, while the corresponding holes in the eastern pillar go quite through; the lowest hole is 1 ft. 8 in. above the ground, and the second 1 ft. ½ in. higher up, and so the third above the second. The holes are 6 in. square.

Over these pillars, which at present lean to one side, is laid another enormous stone about 6 ft. 6½ in. long, and of the same width as the pillars, so that the whole structure bears a surprising resemblance to the most conspicuous part of Stonehenge and other ruins in Malabar. But besides these, there are other very curious stones of different workmanship, and destined evidently for different purposes; some of them are large, flat, and quadrangular, very peculiarly worked, and adapted, probably, to sacrifices. One of them is 3 ft. in length and breadth, but with a projection on one side, as is represented in the woodcut, and 1 ft. 2 in. high. On the surface of this stone, and parallel to its sides, is carved a channel 4⁸⁄₁₀ in. broad, forming a quadrangle; and from this a small channel branches along the projecting part. Several stones of similar workmanship lie about. There is also the remnant of an enormous stone 3 ft. 7½ in. at the back and across, but rounded off at the corners, looking like a solid throne, excepting that on the upper side there is an excavation measuring 1 ft. 3²⁄₁₀ in. at the back, 9⁶⁄₁₀ in. on the front, and 1 ft. 1²⁄₁₀ in. across, and about 10 in. deep, with a small opening. This stone looks very peculiar, and probably formed an altar. These ruins are certainly very remarkable. Any one who looks at them without prejudice or preconceived opinion, will be impressed with the belief that they belonged to a place of worship; though how this peculiar structure could be adapted to religious purposes, I will not undertake to decide. I will only say that my distinct impression on the spot was, that the structure was a rude kind of sundial, combining the vertical with the horizontal principle. That it could not be intended as a common doorway, even if it were connected with another building, is evident from the narrowness of the passage; but it may have had the purpose of serving as a sort of penitential or purgatory passage in consecrating and preparing the worshippers, previous to their offering sacrifices, by obliging them to squeeze themselves through this narrow passage, the inconvenience of which was increased by the awful character attributed to this cromlech. The religious character of the whole structure can scarcely be doubtful, from the nature of the flat stone, the channel in which was certainly intended to carry off the blood of the victim.

It must strike the observer, in regarding these ruins, that while they are so rude in principle, their style of execution evidently bears traces of art; and I think it not improbable that the art may be ascribed to Roman influence. We shall further on see another specimen of these curious pillars combined with the ground-plan of an almost regular Roman temple. But from whatever quarter this artistic influence may have proceeded, there cannot be the least doubt that the character of the structure is, on the whole, not Roman, but indicates quite another race; and if we take into regard what I have just said about the influence of art visible in this structure, and that such influence could scarcely proceed from any other quarter than that of the Carthaginians or the Romans, we must attribute these remains to the Berber race, who, during the historical period, were the exclusive possessors of these inland regions. Analogous structures have been found, however, not only in England and Ireland on the one side, and in several parts of India, principally in the Nilgherries, on the other, but also in Circassia, Southern Russia, on the South Arabian coast, and in the Somali country.

These remarkable ruins are at a short distance from the foot of a fortified hill, which is crowned with ancient fortifications of hewn stone, to which are added later works of small stones. Other ruins of cut-stone buildings lie about; and on an eminence at a little distance eastward is a small castle belonging to the earlier times of the Arabs, while on the highest top of the hilly chain behind the Arab encampment, and which is called Gábes, are likewise ruins. The ruins of a whole village, partly built of regularly cut stone, and even exhibiting the ornament of a column, were found the next morning near our encampment, which our people had placed on the slope of the hills bordering the plain towards the north-east. All these ruins are evident proofs that the fertile plain Elkeb, and the adjoining one, called Madher, were once well cultivated and thickly inhabited. Their situation is very favourable, as the direct road from Tripoli to Beni Ulíd and Sokna, by way of the valley Melgha, passes close by. We had here descended to an average height of about one thousand feet above the level of the sea.

During the night there was heavy rain, which lasted till morning, and delayed our starting till rather late. After about a mile and a half’s march, we ascended a little from the plain to the undulating pastures of the Dháhar Tarhóna, which soon became enlivened by the tents and herds of the Megaigera, and where I was glad to see at length a few cows. The ground, though scantily covered with herbage, was dotted with lilies, which my companion called balúdt, though this name is generally understood to signify the ash-tree. Our guide from Meruán informed me here that the water of this district takes its course not towards the north, as might be expected, but towards the south-east, running from hence to Temásla, on this side of Beni Ulíd, thence into the Wady Merdúm, and thence into Wady Sofejín, which, as is well known, descends towards Tawárgha. A little further on we left, on a small eminence to the left, another hanshír surrounded by cultivated ground. It had been an inconsiderable place, built chiefly of small stones; but even here two enormous pillars or slabs were to be seen standing in the midst of the rubbish. There were two holes in each of these pillars, going quite through, and widening on one side.

At half-past nine o’clock, when passing the Hanshír Bu-Trehébe, at a distance of more than two miles on our left, we had a fine retrospective view of the various peaks of the Ghurián range, while on our left a lower range approached more and more, with two summits rising from it to a greater elevation. About noon we passed another site, called Hanshír Suán, where are the remains of a large castle, with an inner and outer fortification, built of small stones, but in a very neat and regular style. The country, chiefly owing to the murkiness of the sky, had begun to assume a very sombre character, and was crossed by stripes of red sand, which, however, affords the best soil for the growth of the pumpkin; but in the afternoon it improved greatly, showing fine pasture-ground and ample corn-fields and, among the ruins of ancient times, the rare example of a well-proportioned and neatly worked Ionic capital, which I found at the border of a ravine. Further on, upon a detached low rock, which had been hewn into rectangular walls, and surrounded with a ditch, were seen ruins of cut stone, very similar in appearance to those of Kasr Jahalíyeh, near Gargash. We at length found traces of living beings, in an Arab encampment situated in a green hollow, where we learnt that the Kaïd or governor of Tarhóna, whose residence we were in search of, was at present encamped near the spring called ʿAin Shershára.

The country gradually assumes a more diversified aspect, agreeably succeeding its former monotony. A considerable mountain-range, with manifold crags, peaks, and ravines, approaches from the south-south-west and, turning north-east, presents an insurmountable barrier to an advance in that direction, while the plain sweeps nicely in a concave towards its foot; but it is quite bare and desolate, and only now and then is seen a poor remnant of the large olive-grove, consisting, according to the statement of our shoush, of 10,000 trees, which Bey ʿAbd Allah, in Masráta, my host on my former journey, had ventured to plant here five years ago. My people maintained, whether correctly or not I cannot say, that the strong gales which prevail in this plain did not allow the young olive-tree to thrive. I think the failure is due rather to the character of the inhabitants, who, unaccustomed to this branch of culture, have not paid the necessary attention to the young trees.

Having passed a small wady, we came in sight of the encampment of the governor, which stretched out in front of us in a well-chosen situation at the southern foot of a small cone. A Turkish officer’s green tent, pitched a little in advance, was surrounded by several smaller ones, while another group of twelve Bedouin tents, in a higher position up the slope of the mount, contained the household. The governor received us in a very friendly but rather affected manner, which seemed peculiar to him, and might even be thought becoming in a man who has assisted his country’s foes in exterminating all the members of his family, formerly one of the foremost in the country. His friends, who try to represent him as an honest man, say that he was forced to the deed, after having once entered into Turkish service. This man, Bel Kásem el Lohéshi Mahmúdi, has since played a conspicuous part in the present revolution; for he it was who led the Turkish force last year against Ghóma, his near relative but most bitter enemy, who, having been a prisoner in Trebizond for many years, suddenly made his escape from thence during the Russian war, and, issuing from the Tunisian frontier, appeared in Jebel Yefren. El Lohéshi was routed, and taken prisoner, and, according to the first report, slain by the successful rebel. When we visited el Lohéshi, he had occupied his new post only for the last year, having been before governor of the Jebel. During all the period he had been in Tarhóna, he assured us he had not moved his encampment from this place; which I can well understand, as it is a very pleasant spot. His principal business, of course, consists in collecting the tithes, in registering which he was busily employed. He knew very little of the province under his government; and it was to other men that I had to look for information.

Having pitched our tent near that of the governor, we proceeded to make ourselves acquainted with the locality, and, a few paces north from our encampment, stumbled upon the famous brook called ʿAin Shersher, or ʿAin Shershára, which, proceeding from the junction of three springs, forms here a cascade of about twenty-five feet over the firm calcareous rock. Running west a short distance, it then turns north and, breaking through the mountain-slope in a deep picturesque glen, takes the direction of the Wady Ramle, which, however, it only reaches during great floods.

It seems as if this pleasant spot had already been a favourite residence in the Roman times, as is amply shown by the fine ruins of a large building of hewn stone, which the torrent has rent asunder and scattered on both sides. From this place, ascending the side of a very wild ravine, we reached the height which overlooks the Bedouin encampment, and on the morning of the following day made a more distant excursion to the mount called Bu-tauwíl, about three miles north, which was represented to us as affording a very distant prospect, and the name of which seemed to promise more than ordinary elevation.

As to the view we were rather disappointed; yet we were well repaid for our trouble from the character of the country traversed, and the unexpectedly pleasing aspect of the terrace spread out at the western foot of the mountain, which must have formed a favourite retirement in the times of the Romans, so literally strewn is it with the ruins of buildings of hewn stone. In descending it, about three hundred feet below the summit, we first came to a Roman tomb, 8 ft. 7 in. long, and 7 ft. 9 in. broad, rising in two stories, the lower being about 10 ft. high from the base to the moulding, and ornamented with pilasters at the corners. A little further on, to the west, was another tomb, just on the brink of the slope into the valley below; but it has been destroyed, and at present the chief interest attaches to a monumental stone, which most probably stood upright on its top, and fell down when the monument went to pieces, so that it now lies in a merely casual position on the floor of the sepulchre, which has been repeatedly rifled by greedy hands. This stone is 7 ft. 2 in. long, and has on one side, in high relief, the figure of a man, of natural size, clothed in a toga. The workmanship is good, and certainly not much later than the time of Severus. Close at hand are other ruins lying about; and further west are several groups of buildings. Three olive-trees and a palm-tree adorned this beautiful retired spot.

Having returned to our encampment, I and my companion resolved to separate for a few days, Overweg wishing to examine the neighbourhood of the ʿAin Shershára for geological purposes, while I was rather bent upon executing the original plan of our route all round the mountain-range. We agreed to meet again at the castle called Kasr el Jefára in the plain near the sea-shore. We borrowed another tent from the governor for Mr. Overweg during his stay at this place, while I procured a horseman, with whom, together with Ibrahím, our shoush, and one of the camel-drivers, I was ready for starting an hour before noon; for the heat of the sun was not much to be dreaded at this season of the year. Overweg accompanied me as far as Kasr Dóga.

Winding along narrow ravines, after about one mile’s march we passed, on an eminence to our right, another specimen of large pilasters with an impost, and ruins of buildings of large square stones close by. After much winding, we cleared the narrow channel ascending the hills, which were covered with halfa; but here too there was not a single tree to be seen, and my guide said that there were no olive-trees in the Tarhóna except in Máta, a place situated between Mount Bu-tauwíl and Kasr Jefára, from which the tribe Máta derives its name. I have noticed before, as remarkable, the three olive-trees near Bu-tauwíl. It was about one o’clock in the afternoon when we came in sight of the Roman monument called Kasr Dóga; and its brown colour almost induced us to conclude that it was of brick; but on approaching nearer, we found that it was built of hewn stone. We were astonished at the grand dimensions of the monument, as it appeared evident that it was originally a mere sepulchre, though in after times blocked up by the Arabs, and converted into a castle.

The front of the monument faces the south with ten degrees of deviation towards the west. The whole body of the building, rising upon a base of three steps, measures 47 ft. 6 in. in length, and 31 ft. 4 in. in breadth. The entrance or portal, equidistant from both corners, was 12 ft. 6 in. wide; but it has been entirely blocked up with hewn stone, so that it is now impossible to get into the interior of the monument without great labour, and only a glimpse can be obtained of a kind of entrance-hall of small dimensions. Of the interior arrangement, therefore, nothing meets the view; but on the top of the solid mass of building, rising to a height of 28 ft. 10 in., the ground-plan of the third story, which has been demolished to obtain materials for closing the entrance is distinctly visible. Here the vestibule measures 10 ft. 10 in., the wall of the interior chamber or cell being adorned with two columns, which are no less than 3 ft. 10 in. apart: the inner room itself measures 22 ft. 4 in. in length within the walls. The monument, although more massive than beautiful, is a fair proof of the wealth of this district in ancient times. Opposite to it, on a limestone hill of considerable elevation, is another specimen of the cromlech kind in good preservation, besides other ruins. In the hollow at the south-east side of the sepulchre there are six deep and spacious wells sunk in the rock.

Here my companion left me, and I continued my route alone, passing through a well-cultivated tract, till I reached an encampment of the Welád Bu-Séllem, where we pitched our tent. Here I met a cousin of Haj ʿAbd el Hádi el Meráyet, who had once been master of half the Tarhóna district, but was made prisoner by the Turks, and sent to Constantinople. This man also reappeared on the stage last year.

We set out early in the morning, the country continuing flat as far as the chapel of Sidi ʿAli ben Salah, which, standing on a hill, is a conspicuous object for many miles round. At a short distance from this chapel, I observed the ruins of a castle built of large square stones taken from older buildings; it measures 42 ft. in every direction, and exhibits a few bad but curious sculptures, among others an ass in relief. Around are the ruins of a small village, and flat stones of immense size, similar in workmanship to those described above, but no upright pillars.

Beyond the chapel of the saint the country became more hilly, and after some time we entered a ravine joining the Wady Gedaera, which exhibited the remains of three broad and firmly constructed dykes, crossing the ravine at the distance of about eight hundred yards from each other. They were built of small stones, and were evidently intended to exclude the water from the lower part of the valley. Another eight hundred yards below the innermost dyke, the ravine widens out into a fine verdant hollow, stretching from west to east, and provided with several wells. On a detached hill rising in the midst of this basin, is situated the Kasr Dawán, built partly of older materials of hewn stone, partly of small stones, and probably of the same age as the dykes. The whole floor of the basin is strewn with ruins; and a considerable village seems to have extended round the castle: where the ground was free from stones, it was covered with ranunculuses. Altogether, this spot was interesting—the stronghold of a chieftain who appears to have had energy and foresight, but whose deeds are left without a record.

As soon as we emerged from this ravine the whole character of the country changed, and through a pleasant valley we entered a wider plain, bordered in the distance by a high range of mountains, among which the Jebel Msíd, crowned with a zawíya or convent, is distinguished by its height and its form.

The fine pasturage which this plain affords to the cows of the Mehaedi enabled their masters to regale us with fine fresh sourmilk, which interrupted our march very pleasantly. On the site of an ancient village, near the margin of a small torrent, I found the above curious specimens of upright pilasters, together with the impost, remarkable for their height as well as for the rough sculpture of a dog, or some other animal, which is seen on the higher part of one of them. About seven hundred yards beyond the torrent called Ksaea, we had on our right a large building of hewn stone about 140 yards square, besides six pairs of pilasters together with their imposts; but some of them are lying at present on the ground. These structures could never have been intended as doors or passages; for the space between the upright stones is so narrow, that a man of ordinary size could hardly squeeze his way through them. Other ruins are on the left.

Here we entered the mountain-chain which forms the natural boundary between the district of Tarhóna and that of Meselláta, and at the present time separates scenes of nomadic life from fixed settlements. The highest part of the chain round the Jebel Msíd remained on our left, while the height on the right decreased in elevation. The chain has little breadth; and we hardly reached its crest when the country that presented itself to our view had quite a different appearance from that just left behind, presenting among other objects the castle of Meselláta, surrounded by an olive-grove. In this spot ancient sites and modern villages with stone houses are intermixed, while thick olive-groves enliven the whole, and constitute the wealth of the inhabitants.

Having passed a village called Fatír, lying in a ravine that runs south-west, we soon descried, in a hollow at the southern foot of the Kasr Sʿaade (a small ancient fortress), the first olive-plantation and the first orchards belonging to Meselláta. From this place onward they succeed each other at short intervals. Having passed a small eminence, with a fine olive-grove in the hollow at its foot, we entered the beautiful and well-inhabited plain of Meselláta. Here a great deal of industry was evinced by the planting of young cuttings between the venerable old olive-trees, or ghúrs Faraón as the Arabs call them. My shoush affirmed that the inhabitants of Meselláta are the most industrious and diligent people in the whole regency, taking good care of their plantations, and watering them whenever they need it. The whole country has here a different character from that of Tarhóna, the naked calcareous rock protruding everywhere, while in Tarhóna the plains generally consist of a clayey soil. This district is only about one thousand feet above the sea, while the average height of the Jebel (Yefren) and the Ghurián is about two thousand feet. Here the olives had been collected a month ago; in the former districts they remained still on the tree.

Cheered by the spectacle of life and industry around us, we continued our pleasant march, and having crossed an open space of rough rocky ground filled with cisterns, we reached the castle of Meselláta, an edifice of little merit, built with square stones from old ruins, and lying at the northern end of the village Kúsabát, which properly means “the Castles.” While my people were pitching my tent behind the castle, on the only spot which would allow of the pegs being driven into the ground, I went to pay a visit to Khalíl Aghá, who resided in the castle; but I found it to be so desolate and comfortless that I left it immediately, taking with me the sheikh Mesʿaud and a shoush named Ibrahím Tubbát, in order to view the Kalʿa or Gellʿah, a very conspicuous object, visible even from the sea. Keeping along the western side of the village, which consists of from three hundred to four hundred cottages built of stone, and occupies a gentle slope towards the south, the highest point of which, near the mosque, is 1,250 feet above the level of the sea, we reached a pleasant little hollow adorned with gardens, which being fenced with hedges of the Indian fig-tree, rendered the spot extremely picturesque. From hence we ascended the naked calcareous eminence, from the top of which the fortress overlooks a great extent of country. Going round its demolished walls, from east to west, I was able to descry and to take the bearings of a great number of villages belonging to the district of Meselláta, some of them peeping out of olive-groves, others distinguishable only by the smoke rising up from them.

The fortress itself is evidently a work not of Mohammedans, but of Europeans, and was most probably constructed by the Spaniards in the first half of the sixteenth century. It is built in the form of a triangle, one side of which, running north-west and south-east, measures about 108 yards; another, running east-north-east and west-south-west, measures 78½ yards, and the third, S. 5 W. and N. 5 E., 106½ yards. At the corner between the first and the second wall, is a polygonal bastion; between the second and third a round bastion, and a small one also between the third and the first wall. Descending from the fortress, I went with Mesʿaud through the village, the dwellings of which are built in a much better style than is usual in the regency. It is also stated that, in comparison with the rest of the country, its inhabitants enjoy some degree of wealth, and that the market is well supplied.

I rose at an early hour, in order to continue my route, and entered a very pleasant country, rendered more agreeable in appearance by the fineness of the morning. Winding along through hilly slopes covered with luxuriant corn-fields and wide-spreading olive-trees, we reached at half-past eight o’clock an interesting group of ruins consisting of immense blocks, and amongst them one like the flat quadrangular stones represented above, but having on its surface, besides the little channel, a large hole; also a block of extraordinary dimensions, representing a double altar of the curious massive sort described above. Close to these remarkable ruins, in a fine corn-field, is a small castle, situated upon a natural base of rock, in which subterranean vaults have been excavated in a very regular way. Towards the south, at the distance of about half an hour’s march, the large castle of Amámre rises into view. We then reached the fine plantation of Rumíyeh, while on a hill to the left lie other scattered ruins.

We met a good many people going to the Thursday market at Kúsabát. Further on, near another little grove, we found a small encampment of the Jehawát, a tribe which claims the possession of this whole district. We then passed a castle irregularly built of large square stones about twelve yards square. Having crossed a hollow, we obtained a good view over the country, in which the “Merkeb Sʿaid n ʿAli” (the most advanced spur of this chain towards the coast) formed a distinguished point, while we had already reached the last low breaks of the mountain-country towards the east. Meanwhile the greater dimensions of the ruins remind the traveller that he is approaching the famous remains of Leptis. I found here, a little to the right of our path, near a Bedouin encampment, the ruins of a temple of large proportions, called Sanem ben Hamedán, and of rather curious arrangement, the front, which faces the north and recedes several feet from the side-walls, being formed by double ranges of enormous stones standing upright—they can scarcely be called pilasters,—while the inner part is ornamented with columns of the Ionic order. The whole building is about forty paces long, and thirty-six broad; but the architectural merit of its details is not sufficient to repay the trouble of exact measurements. About a thousand yards further on, to the east, are the ruins of another still larger monument, measuring about seventy-seven paces in every direction, and called by the Arabs Kasr Kérker. It has several compartments in the interior—three chambers lying opposite to the entrance, and two other larger ones on the east side. Nearly in the middle of the whole building, there is a large square stone like those mentioned above, but having on one of its narrow sides a curious sculpture in relief.

The camels having been allowed to go on, I hastened after them with my shoush as fast as my donkey could trot, and passed several sites of ancient villages or castles, and numerous fine hollows with luxuriant olive-trees. I scarcely ever remember to have seen such beautiful trees. The country continues undulating, with fertile hollows or depressions. We reached the camels at Wady Lebda, which I found perfectly dry.

Close to our left we had cultivated ground and ruins. Near the sea-shore, the spacious and pleasant site of Leptis spread out on the meadow-land, while a little further, on rose a small ridge, on the top of which is situated the village Khurbet Hammám. After we had passed a pleasant little hollow, the plain became for a while overgrown with thick clusters of bushes; but on reaching the plantation of Swail, an almost uninterrupted line of villages stretched along the sahel (sea-shore) amid corn-fields and groves of olive and date-trees. According to my shoush, a great deal of corn is cultivated also in the valleys behind this plain; and numerous well-trodden paths were seen leading from the sahel into the hilly country on its southern side. After plentiful rains, this part of the plain is inundated by the waters of the Wady Bondári, which is called after the general name of the low range bordering the plain. Having passed several little villages of the sahel, and paid my due tribute of veneration to “el Dekhaele” (the oldest and tallest palm-tree in the whole district), a little before five o’clock in the afternoon I reached the village called Zawíya Ferjáni, where we pitched our tent in the stubble-field near a date-grove, and rested from our pleasant day’s march, experiencing hospitable treatment from our hosts.

The country hereabouts is regarded as tolerably healthy, but ʿAbd eʾ Saʿade, a village a little further eastward, has suffered greatly from malignant fevers, which are attributed to the unwholesomeness of the waters of the Wady Kʿaám, as I noticed on my former journey; hence the population has become rather thin, and industry has declined. At some distance from the wady, cultivation ceases entirely, and, instead of groves and gardens, a wide and wild field of disorder and destruction meets the eye. This rivulet, which is identical with the Cinyps, was in great vogue with the ancients, who knew how to control and regulate its occasional impetuosity. Immense walls, which they constructed as barriers against destructive inundations, remain to testify to their activity and energy. Of these one group, forming a whole system of dykes, some transverse, some built in the form of a semi-circle, is seen near the spot, where a beautiful subterranean aqueduct which supplied Leptis issues from the wady; another enormous wall, 650 yards long, and from 4 to 4½ yards thick, stands about three quarters of a mile higher up the valley.

Having started in the afternoon from the mouth of the wady, I re-entered Zawíya ʿAbd el Ferjáni from the rear, but finding that my people had gone on to Leptis, I followed them, after a little delay, by the way of Wady Súk, where every Thursday a market is held (“Súk el khamís,” a name applied by Captain, now Rear-Admiral, Smyth to the neighbouring village), and then over the open meadow-plain, having the blue sea on my right, and came up with my people just as they were about to pitch my tent at the foot of an enormous staircase leading to some undefined monument in the eastern part of the ancient city of Leptis. During the forenoon I was busily employed in a second investigation of some of the ruins of Leptis, which have been so well described and illustrated by Admiral Smyth. Near the small creek called Mirsá Legátah, and a little east of the chapel of the Merábet ben Shehá, a small castle has been lately built by the Turks, about a hundred paces square. It has quite a handsome look with its pinnacles and small bastions.

Leaving the site of this celebrated city, we proceeded, early in the afternoon, through a diversified hilly country, till we reached the high hill or mount of Mérkeb Sʿaid-n-ʿAli, which is visible from a great distance. This I ascended in order to correct some of my positions, particularly that of el Gellʿah in Meselláta, but found the wind too violent. Passing an undulating country, overgrown with the freshest green, and affording ample pastures to the herds of numerous Arab encampments, I pitched my tent near a small dowar of the Beni Jéhem, who treated us hospitably with sour milk and bazín.

The country continued varied, hill and dale succeeding each other; but beyond Kasr Aláhum (an irregular building of a late age), it became more rough and difficult, especially near the steep descent called Negási. Soon after this we descended into the plain, not far from the sea-shore, where we crossed several flat valleys. From the Wady Bú Jefára, where a small caravan going from Zlíten to the town overtook us, a monotonous plain, called Gwaea mtʿa Gummáta, extends to the very foot of the slope of Meselláta. Having traversed the desolate zone called el Míta mtʿa Terúggurt, whence may be descried the “úglah” near the shore, the residence of my old friend the sheikh Khalífa bú-Ruffa, we reached the broad and rock-bound valley Terúggurt itself, probably the most perfect wady which this part of the coast exhibits. To my great satisfaction, I met Overweg at the Kasr Jefára.

K. Jefára is also called Karabúli, from the name of a Mamlúk who, in the time of Yusuf Basha, built here a sort of convent or chapel. It is rather a “funduk,” or caravanserai, than a “kasr,” or castle, and the gates are always left open; but its situation is important, and it is the residence of a judge or kaíd. A battle between Ghóma and the Turks was fought in 1855 at no great distance from it. The country around is a monotonous plain, enlivened only by three small clusters of palm-trees towards the north. The following morning we proceeded, and encamped on the eastern side of Wady Raml. On Tuesday we returned to Tripoli well satisfied with our little excursion, and convinced that the Regency of Tripoli is not by any means so poor and miserable as it is generally believed to be.

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Meanwhile the instruments provided by Government had arrived, and proved in general well adapted for their purposes.[6] But the tents and arms had not yet reached us; and I thought it better to provide a strong, spacious, and low tent, which, even after the Government tents arrived, did not prove superfluous, although perhaps rather too heavy. All tents intended for travellers in hot climates should be well lined, and not high. Those which we received were quite unfit for the country whither we were going, and while they were so light that they could hardly withstand a strong blast of wind, they scarcely excluded the sun, particularly after a little wear and tear. All the tents ought also to have top-ropes, which can alone secure them in a tornado such as are common in those climates. Mr. Richardson was soon obliged to provide himself with another tent, so that in the course of our journey we had altogether five tents, but generally pitched only two, or, where we encamped for a greater length of time, four.

Mr. Overweg and I sustained a heavy loss in the secession of our black servant Ibrahím, who might have proved of great service to us in the interior, as he spoke the Bórnu and Bagrímma languages, and had himself wandered about a good deal in those little-known districts between Mándara and Bagírmi. But he declared that he could not remain in our service along with our servant Mohammed ben Belál, the son of a liberated Góber slave, who was a very clever but unscrupulous and haughty fellow, and bore the character of a libertine. But another cause of detention was the protest of his wives, who would not allow him to go unless he divorced them. We tried every means of settling the matter, but without success; so that we had only two servants, one of whom, Mohammed eʾ Zintáni, the lad I have mentioned before, would certainly not go further than Fezzán.

At length all was ready for our outset, except the boat, which caused Mr. Richardson a great deal of trouble, as it had been divided in Malta into two pieces instead of four. I proposed that we should pitch our tents for some days at ʿAin Zára, in order that we might be duly seasoned for our long journey. I would advise every traveller, who would calculate upon all the means of ensuring success, to adopt a similar course. A few days’ stay in his tent will familiarize him with the little store which is henceforward to form his principal, if not his only resource, and will enable him to bear the heat of the sun with ease.

It was late in the afternoon of the 24th of March, 1850, when Overweg and I, seated in solemn state upon our camels, left the town with our train, preceded by the consul, Mr. Crowe, in his carriage, by Mr. Reade, and by Mr. Dickson and his family, of whom we took a hearty leave under the olive-trees near Kasr el Haeni. We then continued our route, and in fine moonlight pitched our tent on the border of ʿAin Zára. This locality takes its name from a broad swampy hollow or depression to the south, thickly overgrown with reeds and rushes. At present no one lives in it; the wells are filled up with earth, and the date-trees, cared for by nobody, are partly overwhelmed by the sand which has accumulated in large mounds. Still it is an attractive spot, having just a little of cultivation and a little of sandy waste. A few olive-trees spread their fresh cool shade over a green meadow, forming a very pleasant resting-place. It was at this very spot that, in August 1855, on my joyful return, I again met Mr. Reade the vice-consul, and passed a night there.

Here we remained encamped till Friday the 29th. In the afternoon of the 27th, Mr. Frederic Warrington, who wished to escort us for a few days, came out, accompanied by the American consul Mr. Gaines, and brought us the satisfactory news, that on the following Friday Mr. Richardson would move from the town, and that we should meet him at Mejenín. I and my countryman required eight camels for our luggage, besides the two which we rode ourselves, and which were our own. I had been so fortunate as to procure an excellent Arab camel of the renowned breed of the Bú-Saef, which was my faithful companion as far as Kúkawa; and Mr. Warrington had made me a present of a handsome Ghadamsi saddle or basúr, with pillows and Stambúli carpet, so that I was comfortably mounted.

After a great deal of trouble (the camel-drivers and our men being as yet unaccustomed to our unwieldy luggage), we at length succeeded in making a start. After leaving the olive-trees and the little palm-grove of ʿAin Zára, we very soon entered deep sand-hills, which sheltered us from the strong wind; and after more than two hours we came upon pasture-grounds, which furnished our camels with a variety of herbs and gramineæ, such as the shʿade, the shedíde, and various others unknown to me. The progress of an Arab caravan (where the camels march each after its own inclination, straying to the right and to the left, nipping here a straw, and there browsing on a bush) must be rather slow in districts where the stubborn animal finds abundance of food. This way of proceeding is extremely tedious and fatiguing to the rider; and to obviate it the Tuarek, the Téb, and the people in the interior fasten all the camels one behind the other. Owing to our slow progress, the sun was almost setting when we overtook Mr. Warrington, who had pitched his tent on a fine pasture-ground near Bir Sbaea. The last hour and a half’s ride from the well Jenáwa lay along well-cultivated and flourishing corn-fields extending along the narrow wady of Mejenín, and intermingled with a rich profusion of flowers, principally the beautiful blue “khobbés.”

Having indulged for some hours in the quiet enjoyment of a fine morning and an open green country, I went with the shoush to look after Mr. Richardson’s party. After an hour’s ride through luxuriant corn-fields, and pasture-grounds enlivened by the horses of the Turkish cavalry, we found Mukni, the sailor, and all Mr. Richardson’s baggage; but he himself had not yet come up. I could not persuade the people to remove to our encampment; so I returned, after having paid a visit to the binbásha of the cavalry, who had been stationed here for the last seventeen years. He had contrived to procure himself a cool retreat from the sultry hours, by forming a regular tank, about two feet and a half square, in the midst of his tent, and keeping it always full of water. In the afternoon I made a long excursion with my Zintáni through the plain, beyond the chapel of Sidi Bargúb, in order to buy a sheep; but though the flocks were numerous, none of the shepherds would sell, as pasturage was abundant and every one had what he wanted.

Foggy weather indicated that rain was approaching; and just in time Mr. Richardson with his party arrived, and pitched his enormous lazaretto tent opposite our little encampment. Mr. Reade also had come from the town, in order to settle, if possible, the misunderstanding with our servant Mohammed, and see us off. It is an agreeable duty for me to acknowledge the many services rendered us during our stay in Tripoli. Our whole party was detained here the following day by the heavy rains; and Overweg and I were happy to get hold of the black servant of the ferocious pseudo-sheríf mentioned by Mr. Richardson, when that troublesome fellow was sent back to town, as we were much in want of another servant.

We fairly set out on our exhibition. The country became more diversified as we approached the defile formed by the Bátes and Smaera, two advanced posts of the mountain-chain, while the varied forms of the latter, in high cones and deep abrupt valleys, formed an interesting background. But the country hereabouts is cultivated with less care than Wady Mejenín; and the ground being more stony, presents of course more obstacles than the latter, while both districts are inhabited by the same tribes, viz. the Urgáat and the Akára. Even here, however, in the circle formed by the surrounding heights, was a fine extent of plain covered with corn-fields. Just at the entrance of the pass there is a well, where the road divides; and after a little consultation, we took the western branch, as our people feared that on the eastern we should not find water before night. Changing, therefore, our direction, we seemed awhile to keep off entirely from the mountain-range till we reached the wide but very rugged and rocky Wady Haera, which it was our object to reach at this spot, in order to fill our water-skins from the pools formed by the rains. The wady, indeed, looked as if it sometimes bore in its floods a powerful body of water; and a considerable dyke had been constructed in the early times of the Arabs, extending for two hundred paces from the wady eastward; but it has fallen to ruin, and the path leads now through the breach.

Resuming our march, after a good deal of delay, we turned sharp off towards the mountains, and at an early hour encamped on a very pleasant spot adorned with numerous sidr-trees (Rhamnus Nabeca); but instead of enjoying it in quiet, Overweg and I felt disposed to direct our steps towards a hill called Fulíje, about half an hour’s walk eastward, which promised to be a convenient point for obtaining correct angles of the prominent features of the chain, and proved to be so in reality. Having executed this task, therefore, we returned to our companions well satisfied, and spent the evening in the comfortable tent of Mr. Warrington. We had now reached the slope of the chain, where some of our people supposed that the boat would cause difficulties; but it could not well do so after being cut into quarters, which fitted to the sides of the camels rather better than the large quadrangular boxes. The most troublesome parts were the long oars and poles, which caused the camel much exhaustion and fatigue, by constantly swaying backwards and forwards.

The ground, soon after we had started the next morning, became stony, and, at three miles distance, very rugged and intersected by a number of dry watercourses. The landscape was enlivened not only by our own caravan, composed of so many heterogeneous elements, but also by some other parties who happened to be coming down the slope: first the Kaimakám of the Jebel, then a slave caravan, consisting of about sixty of these poor creatures, of whom the younger, at least, seemed to take a cheerful interest in the varied features of the country. The Wady Bú Ghelán, where the ascent commences, is here and there adorned with clusters of date-trees. In about an hour the first camels of our party reached the terrace of Beni ʿAbbás; and till the whole had accomplished the ascent, I had leisure to dismount from my tractable Bú-saefi, and to sit down quietly under a fine olive-tree near the chapel of the Merábet Sámes, watching them as they came up one by one, and cheered by the conviction that the expedition was at length in full train. The country was here hilly, and the path very often narrow and deeply cut in the marly soil. Further on, Overweg and I, together with our shoush, turned off a little to the right from the great caravan-road, and, passing through fine corn-fields interspersed with flowers of different kinds, reached the village Gwásem, lying at a short distance from the eastern foot of Mount Tekút, where we were treated with sourmilk by a friend of our companions. When we had overtaken our caravan, I found time to pay a visit to the Roman sepulchre, and ascertained that the base measured 24 ft. in every direction, the principal body of the monument, containing the sepulchral chamber, having fallen in entirely. From this point we began to ascend the second terrace, and reached the level of the plateau at two o’clock in the afternoon. The country had now a much more interesting appearance than when I was here two months before, being at present all covered with green corn. Having started in the direction of the castle, we descended, a little before reaching it, along the shelving grounds towards Wady Rummána, and encamped on the spot where the troops usually bivouac.

Here we remained the following day, when, in order to settle formally the demands of our camel-drivers, we had all our things accurately weighed by the officials of the castle. The little market did not grow busy till ten o’clock. The chief articles for sale were three head of cattle, one camel, some sheep and goats, a few water-skins, some barley, a few eggs, and sandals; but at noon it was moderately thronged. In the afternoon we paid a visit to several subterranean dwellings, but were disappointed in not getting access into an entirely new structure of this kind, formed of a much harder sort of clay. Our cheerful friend Mr. Warrington, in order to treat our party before he separated from it for a length of time which nobody could foresee, got an immense bowl of kuskus prepared, seasoned in the most savoury manner; and our whole party long indulged in the remembrance of this delicate dish as a luxury beyond reach. The site of our encampment was most pleasant: below us the wady, rich with varied vegetation; while towards the north the Tekút, with its regularly shaped crater towering proudly over the lower eminences around, formed a most interesting object. Though busy at an early hour, we did not get off till late; for many things were still to be settled here. We separated from Mr. Warrington: and of the three travellers I was the only one whom he was ever to see again.

Our path was at first very winding, as we had to turn round the deep indentation of the Wady Rummána, after which it took a straighter course, passing through several villages, with their respective olive-groves, till we reached Bu Sriyán, where the cultivation of the olive-tree ceased entirely for some distance, and the country became more open. Here we made another considerable deviation from our southerly direction, and followed a wide valley with much cultivated ground. Having reached the village Sémsa, situated upon an eminence to our right, we turned off eastward into a very pleasant ravine with an olive-grove, and then began the steep ascent towards the height Kuléba, which forms the passage over this southern crest of the plateau. While the camels in long rows moved slowly onwards, with their heavy loads, on the narrow and steep rocky path, I, allowing my camel to follow the rest, ascended directly to the village, which is situated round the eastern slope, and is still tolerably well inhabited, although many a house has fallen to ruin; for it has a considerable extent of territory; and owing to its situation as the southernmost point of Ghurián, the inhabitants are the natural carriers and agents between the northern districts and the desert. On the highest crest, commanding the village, there was formerly a castle; but it has been destroyed by the Turks.

Having descended a little into the barren valley, we encamped, at two o’clock in the afternoon, on the slope of the western hills, near the last scanty olive-trees, and not far from the well, from which we intended to take a sufficient supply of water to last us till we reached Mizda. While our people, therefore, were busy watering the camels and filling our water-skins, Overweg and I, accompanied by two of the inhabitants of the village, who had followed us, ascended a conspicuous mount, Jebel Toëshe, the highest in the neighbourhood, on the top of which a village is said to have existed in former times. We took several angles; but there is no very high point about Mizda which could serve as a landmark in that direction. The country through which we were marching, along irregular valleys, mostly of limestone formation, exhibited scattered patches of corn for about the first three miles, after which, almost every sign of cultivation suddenly ceased, and the “Twél el Khamér,” stretching from north-west to south-east, about two miles distant on the right, formed, as it were, the northern boundary of the naked soil. On its slope a few trees of the kind called radúk by the Arabs were seen from the distance. We then entered desolate stony valleys, famous for the bloody skirmishes which are said to have once taken place there between the Urfílla and the Welád Bu Séf, in the time of ʿAbd el Jelíl. Refreshing, therefore, was the aspect of Wady Ranne, which, extending from east to south-west, was overgrown with green herbage, and had two wells.

A little beyond, near the hill, or rather slope, called Shʿabet el Kadím, the latter part of which name seems, indeed, to have some reference to antiquity, we found the first Roman milestone, with the inscription now effaced: but further on, Mr. Overweg, who went on foot and was far behind the main body of our caravan, succeeded in discovering some milestones with inscriptions, which he regretted very much not being able to show me. Hereabouts commences the region of the batúm-tree, which, with the fresh green of its foliage, contributes a good deal to enliven and adorn some favoured spots of this sterile, gravelly tract. To the left of our path were some remarkable basaltic cones, starting up from the calcareous ridge. The ground was strewn with numerous flint-stones. About four o’clock P.M. I went to look at a curious quadrangular and regularly hewn stone, three feet in breadth and length, but only eight inches thick, which was standing upright at some distance from the caravan. It was evidently meant to face the west; but no trace of an inscription was to be seen. About a mile further on we encamped at the foot of the western chain, which rose to a height of about three hundred feet, and formed a narrow cleft with the eastern chain, which at this point closes upon it. In this corner (which collects the humidity of two valleys), besides several batúm-trees, a little corn had been sown. Panthers are said to be numerous in this region.

The next day we directed our march towards the pass, crossing the dry beds of several small torrents, and a broader channel bordered by plenty of batúm-trees. After an hour’s march, we had reached the summit of the pass, which now began to widen, the heights receding on each side, and a more distant range bounding the view. We found in the holes of the rocky bottom of Wady Mezummíta, which we crossed about half-past eight, several pools of rain-water, affording us a most refreshing drink; but it was quite an extra treat, owing to recent heavy rains which had fallen here, for in general the traveller cannot rely on finding water in this place. The ground becoming very stony and rugged, our progress was excessively slow—not above half an English geographical mile in seventeen minutes. The hills on our right displayed to the view regular layers of sandstone. Another long defile followed, which at length brought us to a plain called Wady Lilla, encompassed by hills, and offering several traces of former cultivation, while other traces, further on, bore testimony to the industry of the Romans. A small herd of goats, and the barking of a dog, showed that even at present the country is not wholly deserted. In our immediate neighbourhood it even became more than usually enlivened by the passage of a slave-caravan, with twenty-five camels and about sixty slaves, mostly females.

After having passed a small defile, we at length emerged into the north-west branch of the valley of Mizda, called here Wady Udé-Sheráb, the channel of which is lined with a considerable number of batúm-trees. Crossing the stony bottom of this plain, after a stretch of three miles more we reached the western end of the oasis of Mizda, which, though my fancy had given it a greater extent, filled me with joy at the sight of the fine fields of barley, now approaching maturity—the crop, owing to the regular irrigation, being remarkably uniform—while the grove of date-trees encompassed the whole picture with a striking and interesting frame. So we proceeded, passing between the two entirely separated quarters, or villages, distinguished as the upper, “el fók,” and the lower, “el utah,” and encamped on the sandy open space a little beyond the lower village, near a well which formerly had irrigated a garden. People going to Tripoli encamp at the other end of the oasis, as was done by a caravan of Ghadamsi people with slaves from Fezzán, on the following day.

Mizda, most probably identical with the eastern “Musti kome” of Ptolemy, appears to have been an ancient settlement of the indigenous inhabitants of North Africa, the Berbers, and more particularly of a family or tribe of them called “Kuntarár,” who even at present, though greatly intermixed with Arabs, have not entirely forgotten their Berber idiom. The oasis lies in the upper part of Wady Sofejín, or rather a branch of it, stretching out from south-west to north-east, which has in some parts a great breadth. The natural advantage, or productive principle, of the locality seems to lie in the circumstance that the humidity carried down by the Wady Sheráb is here arrested by a hill, and absorbed by the clayey soil. This hill is of a lengthened form, and consists entirely of gypsum.

The wells have little depth, and the water is drawn to the surface by means of oxen; but there being at present only three specimens of this precious animal in the place, the wells are far from being made use of to the extent which is practicable and has been once practised, as may be concluded from the pillars which extend to a considerable distance on the plain. The town, as I said, consists of two distinct quarters or villages, of which the western one, situated at the eastern foot of the hill, is by far the larger; it is built exactly in the character of the ksúr of the Algerian Sahara, with high round towers decreasing a little in width towards the upper part, and furnished with several rows of loopholes. The wall, purposely built with a great many salient and retiring angles, is in a state of decay, and many of the houses are in ruins; but the village can still boast a hundred full-grown men able to bear arms. The chief of this village always resides in it, while that of the other generally lives at some distance under tents. The circumference of the village, together with the palm-grove attached to its eastern side, and consisting of about two hundred trees, is 2,260 paces.

The lower or south-eastern village, the circumference of which is 600 paces, is separated from the former by an interval of about 400 paces, and has at present no palm-grove, all the gardens having been destroyed or ruined by neglect, and only twenty or thirty palm-trees now remaining scattered about the place. About 100 paces further down the declivity of the valley, is a group of three small gardens surrounded by a wall, but in bad condition; and at about the same distance beyond, another in the same state. The only advantage peculiar to this quarter is that of a large “zawíya,” the principal articles in the inventory of which are eight holy doves. But this also has now become but an imaginary advantage, as, according to its learned keeper’s doleful complaints, it is very rarely visited. In this as well as in the other quarter, all the houses are built of gypsum. As Mizda is a very remarkable feature in the country, I thought it worth while to make a particular sketch of the oasis also from this side.

This oasis is very diminutive; but two caravan-routes, one from Murzuk and one from Ghadámes, join at this point. The inhabitants are of a mild disposition, and enjoy the fame of strict honesty. Everything is here considered as secure; and the camels which cannot find food in the neighbourhood, are driven into the green valley at four or five minutes’ distance, and left there without a guardian. I make these statements advisedly, as reflections of a different kind have been made on their character. The people seem to suffer much from sore eyes. When we asked them about the most remarkable features of the road before us, they spoke of a high mount, Teránsa, which, however, we did not afterwards recognize.

In the afternoon I made an excursion with Overweg to Jebel Durmán, situated at the distance of a mile and a half south-east. It is rather a spur of the plateau jutting out into the broad valley, and, with its steep, precipitous, and washed walls, nearly detached and extremely narrow as it is—a mere neck of rock—looks much like a castle. Upon the middle of its steep side is a small zawíya belonging to the Zintán. The prospect from this steep and almost insulated pile could not, of course, be very extensive, as the mount itself is on the general level of the plateau; but we obtained a fine view over the sea of heights surrounding the broad valley and the several tributaries of which it is formed. Night was setting in, and we returned to our tent.

Having heard our Zintáni make frequent mention of an ancient castle with numerous sculptures, and situated at no great distance, I resolved to visit it, and set out tolerably early in the morning of the 9th of April, accompanied by the Arab and one of our shoushes. We had first to send for one of our camels, which was grazing at about three miles’ distance, in the sandy bottom of the wady south-east from our encampment. It was only on this occasion that I became aware of the exact nature of the valley of Mizda, and its relation to the Wady Sófejín; for we did not reach this latter wady until we had traversed the whole breadth of the sandy plain, and crossed a mountain-spur along a defile called Khurmet bu Mátek, at the distance of at least eight miles from our encampment. This is the famous valley mentioned, in the eleventh century, by the celebrated Andalusian geographer El Bekri. Figs and olive-trees adorn its upper part, which is said to stretch out as far as Erhebát, a district one day and a half beyond Zintán; barley is cultivated in its middle course, while wheat, from which the favourite dish ʿajín is made, is grown chiefly in its lower part near Tawárgha. The valley seems worthy of better fortune than that to which it is reduced at present; for when we marched along it, where it ran S. 20 W. to N. 20 E., we passed ruins of buildings and water-channels, while the soil exhibited evident traces of former cultivation. I listened with interest to the Zintáni, who told me that the valley produced an excellent kind of barley, and that the Kuntarár, as well as the people of Zintán, his countrymen, and the Welád Bu-Séf, vied with each other in cultivating it, and, in former times at least, had often engaged in bloody contests for the proprietorship of the ground. When I expressed my surprise at his joining the name of his countrymen with those of the other tribes hereabouts, he gave me the interesting information that the Zintán had been the first and most powerful of all the tribes in this quarter before the time of the Turks, and held all this country in a state of subjection. Since then their political power and influence had been annihilated, but they had obtained by other means right of possession in Mizda as well as in Gharíya, and still further, in the very heart of Fezzán, by lending the people money to buy corn, or else corn in kind, and had in this way obtained the proprietorship of a great number of the date-trees, which were cultivated and taken care of by the inhabitants for a share of the produce. Formerly the people of Zintán were in possession of a large castle, where they stored up their provisions; but since the time of the Turkish dominion, their custom has been to bring home the fruits of their harvests only as they want them. In Wady Sháti we were to meet a caravan of these enterprising people.

While engaged in this kind of conversation we entered a smaller lateral valley of Wady Sófejín, and reached the foot of a projecting hill on its western side, which is crowned with a castle. Here it was that I was to find marvellous ancient sculptures and drawings; but I soon perceived that it would be as well not to cherish any high expectations. The castle, as it now stands, is evidently an Arab edifice of an early period, built of common stones hewn with some regularity, and set in horizontal layers, but not all of the same thickness. It forms almost a regular square, and contains several vaulted rooms, all arranged with a certain degree of symmetry and regularity. But while we pronounce the main building to be Arab, the gateway appears to be evidently of Roman workmanship, and must have belonged to some older edifice which the Arab chieftain who built this castle probably found in the place,—a conjecture which seems to be confirmed by several ornamental fragments lying about.

It is a pity that we know so little of the domestic history of these countries during the period of the Arab dynasties, though a step in advance has been made by the complete publication of Ebn Khaldún’s history; else we should regard with more interest these relics of their days of petty independence. This castle, as well as another, the description of which I shall subjoin here, though it was visited some days later, is called after a man named Khafáji ʿAámer, who is said to have been a powerful chief of great authority in Tunis no less than in Tarábolus (Tripoli).

The other ruin, related to this one as well by name as by the style of its workmanship—but in many respects more interesting, having been evidently once a place of Christian worship—stands on a narrow and detached neck of rock in the Shʿabet Um el Kharáb, and, from its whole plan, appears to have been originally and principally a church about forty-three feet square, sufficiently large for a small congregation, and with more art and comfort than one can easily suppose a Christian community in these quarters ever to have possessed. Hence greater interest attaches to this building than it would otherwise deserve. It closes with a plain apsis, in which there are two openings or doorways leading into an open room stretching behind it and the side-naves, and is divided into three naves, the middle one of which is eight paces, and the lateral ones six and a half wide. The naves are divided from one another by columns with differently ornamented capitals supporting arches, all in the so-called round style of architecture. I made purposely a sketch of two different capitals, in order to show their designs; and I think they are very characteristic. But it is curious to observe that the walls also appear to have been originally painted on stucco, though at present but a small piece of it remains near the corner; hence I conclude that the date of the painting was later than that of the erection of the church.

The front of the building has suffered in some degree from the depredations of the Arabs, who are said to have carried away a great many sculptures from this place—as much, indeed, a man from Mizda would have made me believe, as fifty-five camel-loads. However exaggerated this statement may be, it is evident that the whole layer over the entrance was originally covered with ornamental slabs, while now only two remain to the left of the doorway; and these, though in the same style of sculpture as the capitals, would rather seem to have been taken from another edifice. There are many debatable points involved in the consideration of this building. The first fact clearly shown is the existence of a Christian community or a monastery in these remote valleys, as late as the twelfth century at least, under the protection of a powerful chief; and this is not at all improbable, as we know that Mohammed expressly ordered that zealous priests and monks should be spared, and as we find so many monasteries in several other Mohammedan countries. That it was not merely a church, but a monastery, seems plainly indicated by the division into apartments or cells, which is still clearly to be seen in the upper story. Attached to the north side of the church was a wing containing several simple apartments, as the ground-plan shows; and on the south corner of the narrow ridge is a small separate tower with two compartments. Near this ruin there is another, which I did not visit, called Ksaer Labayed mtʿa Derayer, while a third, called Ksaer el Haemer, has been destroyed.

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We lost the best part of the morning, our men not being able to find their camels, which had roamed over the whole wady. Our road was almost the same as that by which I had returned the previous day; and we encamped in the Wady Sófejín, on a spot free from bushes. From this place, accompanied by the Zintáni, I visited, the next morning, the castle or convent in Shʿabet Um el kharáb, which I have described, and thence struck across the stony plateau in order to overtake our caravan. It was a desolate level, rarely adorned with humble herb or flower; and we hastened our steps to reach our companions. Here I heard, from the Zintáni, that his father came every year about this season, with his flocks, to the valleys east of our road, and that he would certainly be there this year also. He invited me to go thither with him, and to indulge in milk to the extent of my wishes; as for myself, I declined, but allowed him to go, on condition that he would return to us as soon as possible.

Even after we had overtaken the caravan, the country continued in general very bare; but we passed some valleys affording a good deal of herbage or adorned with some fine batúm-trees. About five o’clock P.M. we encamped in Wady Talha, not far from a Roman castle or tower on a hill to our left. On visiting the ruin, I found it built of rough stones without cement, being about twenty feet square in the interior, with rounded corners, and with only one narrow gate, towards the east. But this was not the only remnant of antiquity in the neighbourhood, for in front of us, on the plateau, there appeared something like a tower of greater elevation; and proceeding early the next morning, when our people had only begun to load, to examine it, I found it to be a Roman sepulchre, originally consisting apparently of three stories; but of these only the base and the first story remain, while the stones belonging to the upper one are now scattered on the ground, and show that it was ornamented with small Corinthian columns at the corners. Even in the most desolate spot, everything left by the Romans has a peculiar finish. The first story, being all that at present remains, measures 5 ft. 4 in. on the east and west, and 5 ft. 9 in. on the north and south sides. Not far from this sepulchre are the ruins of another one, of which, however, nothing but the base remains, if, indeed, it was ever completed. By the time my drawing was finished, the caravan had come up.

I then passed several detached cones, the steep precipitous sides of which, formed by the breaking away of the strata, looked like so many castles, and traversing Wady Marsíd, reached the camels. They marched to-day at a very good rate, the quickest we had as yet observed in ordinary travelling—namely, half a mile in twelve minutes, making a little less than two and a half miles an hour; but we afterwards found that this had now become our usual rate, whereas before reaching Mizda we had scarcely ever exceeded two miles an hour. The load of the camels, of course, had been heavier in the beginning; but this can hardly be the only reason of the difference. The greater dreariness of the country, and the impulse of our camel-drivers and their beasts to get to their homes, must be taken into account. I must here observe that Overweg and I measured our rate repeatedly, with a chain provided by Government, although it was a very fatiguing labour, and injurious to our dignity in the eyes of our people. Gradually the day grew very uncomfortable, a hot west wind driving the sand into our faces, and totally obscuring the sky. Keeping along the Wady Téroth, sometimes more than a mile wide, we had on our left a broad mount, rising first with a gradual ascent, but in its upper part forming a steep and lofty wall called el Khaddamíyeh. Here, too, according to the information of my faithful Arab, there is said to be a Roman sepulchre. Having passed a small defile, and crossed another valley, we had other Roman ruins on our right, a castle as it seemed, and near it something like a sepulchre; but the sand-storm hardly allowed us to look, still less to go in that direction.

At three o’clock in the afternoon we turned off to the west into Wady Tagíje, and encamped near the bed of a torrent eight feet deep, which amply testifies that, at times, a considerable stream is formed here, a fact confirmed by the fresh and luxuriant herbage springing up in many parts of the valley among thick bushes and brushwood. Nor was it quite desolate even now; for the flocks of the Welád Bu-Séf were seen, and their tents were said to be not far off. The upper part of the valley is called el Khúrub.

This hot day proved a dies ater to my Arab, who had gone to visit his family. Having brought his old father with him, together with a goat, as a present, and a skin of milk, he unluckily arrived too late in the morning at our last night’s encampment. He then sent his father back with the goat, and began to follow us in the hope of soon overtaking the caravan; but he was obliged to march the whole intensely hot day without water, and he could not drink the milk in the skin, which became quite hot, so that he suffered greatly, and arrived in a very exhausted state.

The fine herbage procured us a whole day’s rest, as the camel-drivers were in no haste to bring up their camels. Not knowing this, but yet convinced that we should not start at an early hour, as the well was at some distance, and following the information received from the Zintáni, who was himself too lame to accompany me, I had taken my gun and pistols at an early hour in the morning, and gone in the direction of the valley to look after a monument. After nearly two hours’ march I distinguished something like a high pillar, and, proceeding straight towards it, found it to be one of the richest specimens of this kind of monument bequeathed to us by antiquity, and an indisputable proof that these regions, now so poor, must have then supported a population sufficiently advanced in taste and feeling to admire works of a refined character.

The monument rises, upon a base of three steps and in three stories, nearly to a height of forty-eight feet. The base contains a sepulchral chamber 4 ft. 10⅓ in. long, and 4 ft. ⅛ in. broad, with three niches, one on the north, and two on the east side. This side was the principal face of the monument, forming its most ornamented part. The first story measures at its base on the east and west sides 5 ft 5⅜ in., and on the north and south sides 4 ft. 10⅛ in.: it consists of six layers of stones, on the lowest of which is represented a pair of wild animals, probably panthers, with their fore legs or paws resting upon a sepulchral urn, as if they were watching it; on the next layer above is seen the handsome bust of a young female; two layers intervene without sculpture; and the fifth is ornamented on all the four sides with hunting-scenes. The frieze on every side is formed by four rosettes; but that on the north side has some additional decoration, the second rosette on that side, from the east, exhibiting a group of centaurs, and the fourth a cock. Upon this part of the frieze is a garland of clusters of grapes; then follows the moulding.

In the second story the third layer forms the sill and lower part of a false door very richly ornamented, and on the fifth layer a pair of genii hold a coronal over the door of the sepulchre, a representation which seems to intimate Christian ideas. Above it a niche contains the busts of a man and his wife; but on the north side an elderly woman occupies a niche with her bust, probably in her character as proprietress of the single sepulchral niche of the tomb below. Above is an ornament with two bunches of grapes; and then follows the frieze, of the common Ionic order. The moulding is surmounted by a pyramidal roof about twelve feet high, which has lost its summit; otherwise the whole monument, with the exception of the sepulchral chamber, which has been broken up in search of treasures, is in the best state of preservation, notwithstanding its very slender proportions,—a circumstance very remarkable, after a lapse of at least more than sixteen centuries. No wonder that the natives of these regions now regard these tall sepulchral monuments, so strange at present in this land of desolation, as pagan idols, and call them “sanem;” for I myself, when alone in front of the monument in this wide, solitary valley, and under the shadow of the deep, precipitous side of a plateau adjoining the Khaddamíye on the east, felt impressed by it with a certain degree of awe and veneration.

My sketch being finished, I was still attracted to a greater distance up the valley by something which seemed at first to be another monument; but it was only a mark fixed by the Arabs, and served but to lengthen my march back, which was more slow, as the heat had set in. But I was well satisfied with my morning’s work; and my companions were greatly astonished when they saw the sketch. In the afternoon I made with Overweg another excursion in the opposite direction, when after an hour’s march we ascended a height and obtained a most interesting view over this singular tract, which seems to be the fragmentary border of a plateau torn and severed by ravines and precipices, so that only wall-like cliffs, rising like so many islands out of a sea of desolation, indicate its height. A high craggy ridge towards the west, with precipitous pinnacled walls, looked like a castle of the demons. Just in a ravine on the border of this wild scene of natural revolutions, my companion had the good luck to find some very interesting fossils, particularly that beautiful specimen which after him has been called Exogyra Overwegi; but our zeal had carried us too far, and it grew dark as we commenced our return, so that we had some difficulty in groping our way back to our encampment, where we arrived weary and fatigued, after having caused our people a good deal of apprehension.

We were roused from our refreshing sleep as early as two o’clock after midnight; but this was a mere sham of our camel-drivers, who feigned making up for the loss of yesterday, and after all we did not get off early. Our road carried us from wady to wady, which were generally separated from each other by a defile, occasionally presenting some difficulty of passage. We left a castle of Roman workmanship, as it seemed, in the distance to the left, and further on to the right a slight stone wall called Hakl el Urínsa, dating from the petty wars between the Arab tribes. We had already passed a few small ethel-bushes; but now we came to a most venerable-looking old tree called Athelet Si Mohammed fi Useát, spreading out its weather-beaten branches to a considerable distance: under this I sat down quietly for a while, waiting for our people, who were still behind. The caravan at length came up; and continuing our march, we soon passed on our right hand the chapel of a great Merábet of the Welád Bu-Séf, called Si Rashedán. The Welád Bu-Séf in general enjoy great authority with the other tribes for their sanctity of life and purity of manners; they allow no stranger to come near their villages, but pitch a tent for him at a distance, and treat him well.

The Welád Bu-Séf are remarkable for the excellent breed of their camels, which they treat almost as members of their families. It is curious that this tribe, intent upon right and justice, has waged war incessantly from ancient times with the Urfílla, the most warlike and violent of the tribes of these regions. It is difficult to make out whether they are related to the Welád Bu-Séf of the western part of the desert, who are likewise distinguished by their peculiar manners, but who it seems would scruple, on religious grounds, to call a man ʿAbd eʾ nebi (Slave of the Prophet), which is the name of the ancestor of the Eastern Bu-Séf.

Emerging from a defile, upon high ground, early in the afternoon, we obtained a view over Wady Zémzem, one of the most celebrated valleys of this part of North Africa. It runs in general from west to east-north-east, and is furnished with a great many wells, the most famous of which are el Abiadh, Sméla, Nákhala, Urídden, Halk el Wady, and, a little further down, Téder. In half an hour we encamped in the valley, full of herbage and with a goodly variety of trees. A caravan coming from the natron-lakes, and carrying their produce to Tripoli, was here encamped. I could not withstand the temptation of ascending, in the afternoon, a projecting eminence on the south side of the valley, which was broken and rent into a great variety of precipices and ravines; but its summit, being on a level with the plateau, did not afford me such a distant view as I had expected. The cliff was formed of strata of marl and gypsum, and contained many fossil shells.

As soon as we left the bottom of the valley, the path, which became rugged and stony, led up the southern cliffs, went round the east side of the conspicuous promontory, and then continued to wind along between the slopes of the higher level of the plateau. A hill, distinguished from among the surrounding heights by the peculiar shape of its cone, has here received the significant name Shúsh el ʿabíd—the Slaves’ Cap. A little further on, the roads separate, that to the left leading along the principal branch of the valley to the little town Gharíya, while the eastern goes to the well Taboníye. One might suppose that in a desolate country like this, and just at the entrance into a desert tract of great extent, the caravans would gladly avail themselves of those abodes of life which still exist: but this is not the case; they avoid them intentionally, as if a curse were attached to them, and those places, of course, fall every day more and more into decay. After a little consultation, the path by Taboníye was thought preferable, and we took it. The rough and stony character of the country ceased, and we gradually entered a fine valley, called Wady Tolágga, richly clothed with a variety of trees and bushes, such as the sidr, the ethel, the ghurdok, and several others. After meeting here with a caravan, we caught the gladdening and rare sight of an Arab encampment, belonging to the Urínsa, and obtained some milk. Without crossing any separation or defile, but always keeping along the same valley, we approached the well Taboníye. But near it the vegetation is less rich; the soil is intermixed with salt, and covered with a peculiar kind of low tree called by the present inhabitants of the country, frʿo,—a term which in pure Arabic would only mean “a branch.”

While our people were busily employed pitching the tents, I went at once to examine a monument which, for the last hour of our march, had stood as a landmark ahead of us. I reached it at the distance of a mile and a quarter from our encampment, over very stony and rugged ground. It was well worth the pains I had taken; for, though it is less magnificent than the monument in West Tagíje, its workmanship would excite the interest of travellers, even if it were situated in a fertile and well-inhabited country, and not in a desolate wilderness like this, where a splendid building is of course an object of far greater curiosity. It is a sepulchre about twenty-five feet high, and rising in three stories of less slender proportions than the monument above described, and is probably of a later period. The sketch on the preceding page will suffice to give an exact idea of it.

Near this is another sepulchre, occupying a more commanding situation, and therefore probably of older date, but it is almost entirely destroyed; and a third one in an equally ruinous state, but of larger proportions than either, is seen further south-east. These monuments serve to show that the dominion of the Romans in these regions was not of momentary duration, but continued for a length of time, as the different styles of the remains clearly proves. It may be presumed that no common soldier could pretend to the honour of such a tomb; and it is probable that these sepulchres were destined to contain the earthly remains of some of the consecutive governors or officers stationed at the neighbouring place, which I shall soon describe.

Like a solitary beacon of civilization, the monument rises over this sea-like level of desolation, which, stretching out to an immense distance south and west, appears not to have appalled the conquerors of the ancient world, who even here have left behind them, in “lithographed proof,” a reminiscence of a more elevated order of life than exists at present in these regions. The flat valley below, with its green strip of herbage, stretches far into the stony level; and beyond, north-eastwards, the desolate waste extends towards Gharíya.

I returned to the encampment, which meanwhile had sprung up on the open space round the well, and was anxious to quench my thirst with a draught of the precious liquid; but the water was rather salt, and disagreed with me so long as I continued to use it,—that is, for the next seven days. That we might make good use of our leisure hours, all three of us went the next day to Gharíya, or rather Gharíya el gharbíya—i.e., western, to distinguish it from the more distant eastern place of the same name.

Cheerfully as we set forward, we were heartily glad when, after a three hours’ march, we saw the northern tower of the place become visible over the monotonous stony plain, the wide and unbounded expanse of which seemed to indicate something above a single day’s excursion. After having also descried the half-ruined dwellings of the village, we were eagerly looking out for the palm-grove, when we suddenly reached the brink of a deep ravine, in which, on our left, the fresh green plantation started forth, while all around was naked and bare. We crossed the ravine, leaving the grove on our left, and ascended the opposite cliffs towards the ruined cluster of miserable cottages, when, having traversed the desolate streets, we encamped outside the Roman gate, the massive and regular architecture of which formed a remarkable contrast to the frail and half-ruined structures of the village. We were greatly astonished to find such a work here.

It has but little resemblance to the Roman castle or station at Bonjem, such as it is seen in Captain Lyon’s drawing; for while the latter represents a single gateway flanked by two quadrangular towers, the building at Gharíya consists of three archways, flanked by towers with receding walls. The two smaller gateways have been almost entirely filled with rubbish; the upper layer likewise is gone, and only those stones which form the arch itself are preserved, the centre stone above the principal arch, bearing the inscription “PRO. AFR. ILL.” (provincia Africæ illustris), encircled by a coronal, while that above the eastern side-gate is ornamented with a large sculpture, the lower part of which it is difficult to make out distinctly, except the trace of a chariot and a person in curious attire following it, while the upper part represents two eagles in a sitting posture, with half-extended wings, holding a coronal, and at each end a female genius, in a flying posture, stretching out a larger and a smaller coronal. Besides this, and a few Berber names, there is no inscription now on the building; but an inscription found in another place, which I shall soon mention, and which was probably originally placed over the small archway on the right, seems to leave no doubt that this fortification dates from the time of Marc. Aurel. Severus Antoninus, and if not built in the years between 232 and 235 after Christ, at least was then in existence.

As the ground-plan, which is here subjoined, evidently shows, this is not by itself a complete building, and could only afford quarters to a very limited number of soldiers acting as a guard: in fact it can only be the well-fortified entrance into the Roman station; but of the station itself I was unable to discover any traces, though a great quantity of stones from some building lie scattered about in the village. The only ancient building which I was able to discover, besides the gate, was a cistern at the north-west corner of the wall, near the slope into the wady, which is here very precipitous. It was probably 60 ft. long, for at 30 ft. there is an arch dividing it; but one half of it, except a space of about 8 ft., has been filled with rubbish: its breadth is 5 ft. 3½ in. Perhaps the whole fortification was never finished; the inner edge of the stones would seem to intimate that not even the gateway received its entire ornament.

While I was busy making a drawing of the ruins, Overweg, who, in order to measure the elevation of the place by boiling water, had directed his steps to a rising ground at some distance north of the village, which was crowned with a tower, sent to inform me that on the tower was a large Roman inscription, which he was unable to make out; and as soon as I had finished my sketch I went thither. It is a round Arab tower, only two large ancient stones having been made use of as jambs, while a large slab, covered with an inscription, is used as an impost, owing to which circumstance the inhabitants generally regard even the tower as a Christian or Roman building. The inscription, which was evidently taken from the fortified station, is 32⁷⁄₁₂ in. long, and 15¹⁰⁄₁₂ in. high, and consists of nine lines. It has been read and interpreted by Mr. Hogg in the following manner.

As for the tower, or nadhúr, it was evidently erected in former times in order to give timely notice when a band of freebooters—“el jaesh” (the army), as they are called here—was hovering around the solitary village; for this seems to have been the chief cause of its destruction, the Urfílla being said to have been always watching and lying in ambush round this lonely place, to attack and rob small parties coming from or going to it; they are said even to have once captured the whole place. The consequence is, that it has now scarcely thirty male inhabitants to bear arms, and is avoided by the caravans as pestilent, the water, they say, being very unwholesome. The small remnant of the inhabitants have a very pale and ghastly appearance, but I think this is owing rather to the bad quality of their food than to that of the water. In former times it is said to have been celebrated on account of a merábet of the name of Sidi Mʿadi.

As soon as I had sufficiently examined the ruins and the village, I hastened to the bottom of the ravine. The contrast between the ruined hovels of the village, perched on the naked rock, and the green, fresh plantation, fed by a copious supply of water, is very great. Thick, luxuriant, and shady clusters are here formed, principally around the basin filled by the spring, which rushes forth from beneath a rock, and gives life to the little oasis; its temperature I found, at half-past one o’clock P.M., 70½° Fahr., while that of the air was 70°. The number of the date-trees, though small, is nevertheless larger than in Mizda, and may be nearer to 350 than to 300. The water of the ravine after a heavy fall of rain joins the Wadi Zemzem, the principal valley of this whole district, which together with Wady Sófejín and Wady Beï, carries all the streams collected hereabouts to the sea.

According to our Zintáni, the path leading to Taboníye from the western village first lies over the hammáda, then crosses a ravine called Wady Khatab, leads again over the plateau, crosses another wady, and at length, after about ten miles, as it seems, reaches the ravine of Gharíya eʾ sherkíya, stretching from west to east, the grove, of about the same extent as in the other oasis, being formed at the north and west bases of the rocky height upon which the place stands. At the side of the village there is, he said, a large Roman castle, far larger than that in the western one, of about eight or ten feet elevation at present, but without an arched gateway of that kind, and without inscriptions. On the east side of the eminence are only a few palms, and on the south side none. The village is distinguished by a merábet called Bu-Sbaeha. Neither from the Zintáni nor from anybody else did I hear that the inhabitants of these two solitary ksúr are called by the peculiar name Warínga; I learnt it afterwards only from Mr. Richardson’s statement, and I have reason to think that the name was intended for Urínsa.

We returned by a more northern path, which at first led us through a rather difficult rocky passage, but afterwards joined our path of yesterday. Overweg and I had no time to lose in preparing for our journey over the hammáda, or plateau, while Mr. Richardson was obliged, by the conduct of the ill-provided and ill-disciplined blacks who accompanied him, to follow us by night. We therefore got up very early next morning, but lost a good deal of time by the quarrels among our camel-drivers, who were trying, most unjustly, to reserve all the heavy loads for the camels of the inexperienced Tarki lad ʿAli Karámra, till they excited his indignation, and a furious row ensued. This youth, though his behaviour was sometimes awkward and absurd, excited my interest in several respects. He belonged to a family of Tawárek, as they are called, settled in Wady el Gharbi, and was sent by his father to Tripoli with three camels, to try his chance of success, although members of that nation, with the exception of the Tinylkum, rarely visit Tripoli. He was slender and well-formed, of a glossy light-black complexion, and with a profile truly Egyptian; his manners were reserved, and totally different from those of his Fezzáni companions.

At length we were under way, and began gradually to ascend along the strip of green which followed the shelving of the plateau into the valley, leaving the Roman sepulchre at some distance to our right. The flat Wady Labaerek, which is joined by Wady Shák, was still adorned with gattúf and rétem. It was not till we had passed the little hill called Lebaerek, and made another slight ascent, that we reached the real level of the terrible Hammáda; the ascent, or shelving ground, from Taboníye to this point being called el Mudhár mtʿa el Hammáda, and the spot itself, where the real Hammáda begins, Bú-safár, a name arising from the obligation which every pilgrim coming from the north, who has not before traversed this dreaded district, lies under, to add a stone to the heaps accumulated by former travellers.

But, notwithstanding all the importance attached to the dreary character of this region, I found it far less naked and bare than I had imagined it to be. To the right of our path lay a small green hollow, of cheerful appearance, a branch of which is said, probably with some degree of exaggeration, to extend as far as Ghadámes; but the whole extent of the Hammáda is occasionally enlivened with small green patches of herbage, to the great relief of the camel. And this, too, is the reason why the traveller does not advance at a rate nearly so expeditious as he would expect. In the latter part of our preceding journey we generally had made almost as much as two and a half miles an hour; but we scarcely got over two on this level open ground. Of course, the wider the space the wider the dispersion of the straggling camels; and much time is lost by unsteady direction. At the verdant hollow called Garra mtʿa eʾ Nejm the eastern path, which is called Trík el mugítha (via auxiliaris), and passes by the village of Gharíya, joined our path.

At Wady Mʿamúra I first observed the little green bird generally called asfír, but sometimes mesísa, which lives entirely upon the caravans as they pass along, by picking off the vermin from the feet of the camels. In the afternoon we observed, to our great delight, in the green patch called el Wueshkeh, a cluster of stunted palm-trees. Hereabouts the camel-drivers killed a considerable number of the venomous lizard called bu-keshásh; and the Tarki in particular was resolute in not allowing any which he saw to escape alive. After a moderate march of little more than ten hours and a half, we encamped in a small hollow called, from a peculiar kind of green bush growing in it, el Jederíya. A strong cold wind, accompanied by rain, began to blow soon after we encamped. The tent, not being sufficiently secured, was blown down in the night; and we had some trouble in pitching it again.

Continuing our march, we passed, about ten o’clock in the morning, a poor solitary talha-tree bearing the appellation of el Duhéda. Further on we found truffles, which in the evening afforded us a delicious truffle-soup. Truffles are very common in many parts of the desert; and the greatest of Mohammedan travellers (Ebn Batúta) did not forget them in relating his journey from Sejelmása to Waláta, in the middle of the fourteenth century. The sky was very dark and hazy; and the moon had an extraordinary “dára,” or halo. We slept this night without a tent, and felt the cold very sensibly.

The march of the following day was a little enlivened by our meeting with two small caravans: the first, of five camels; the second, belonging to Ghadámsi people, and laden with ivory, of fifteen. With the latter was also a woman, sitting quite comfortably in her little cage. Shortly after half-past one o’clock in the afternoon, we had reached the highest elevation of the Hammáda, indicated by a heap of stones called, very significantly, Rejm el erhá, 1,568 feet above the level of the sea. We encamped soon after, when a very heavy gale began to blow from the north-north-west driving the swallows, which had followed our caravan, into the tent and the holes formed by the luggage; but the poor things found no protection, for our tent, which was light and high-topped, was blown down again during the night, while a heavy rain accompanied the storm, and we as well as our little guests were left awhile without shelter, in a very uncomfortable situation.

We started rather late the following morning, entering now upon the very dreariest part of the Hammáda, called el Hómra. So far there had been only one track over this stony plateau; but in the afternoon a path, called Msér ben Wáfi, branched off towards the left. This path, which leads to the eastern parts of Wady Sháti, formed formerly the common road to Fezzán, the road by way of el Hasi being considered as too insecure, on account of the robberies of the Urfílla. Hence the latter is still called the new road, “Trík el jedíd.” Richardson, who had had enough of the inconveniences of travelling by night, easily got in advance of us this morning, after our short march of yesterday, and had advanced a good way by daytime. We were therefore anxious to come up with him; and on our way we encountered a heavy shower of rain before we pitched our tent. The whole caravan being once more united, the increased variety of our own party relieved a good deal of the feeling of monotony arising from the desolate character of the country through which we travelled. After marching about seven miles, we arrived at the greenest and largest hollow of the Hammáda, called Wady el Alga, which we ought to have reached yesterday, in order to be able to get this day as near the well as possible.

As it was, when we encamped in the afternoon, we had still a long day’s march before us, and therefore the next day, from general impulse, in order to make sure of our arrival at the well, we started at an early hour, keeping the caravan together by repeated shouting. After a march of about twelve miles, we reached the first passage leading down from the Hammáda and called Tníe Twennín; but it was too steep and precipitous for our rather heavily laden caravan, and we had to continue till we reached the Tníe el ʿArdha, a little after eleven o’clock, when we began to descend from the plateau along a rough winding pass. The sandstone of which it is formed presented to us a surface so completely blackened, not only in the unbroken walls of the ravine, but also in the immense blocks which had been detached from the cliffs, and were lying about in great confusion, that at first sight anybody would have taken it for basalt; but when the stones were broken, their real nature became apparent. Over this broad layer of sandstone, which in some places covered a bed of clay mixed with gypsum, there was a layer of marl, and over this, forming the upper crust, limestone and flints.

After a winding course for an hour, the narrow ravine, shut in by steep, gloomy-looking cliffs, began to widen, and our direction varied less; but still the whole district retained a gloomy aspect, and the bottom of the valley was strewn with masses of black sandstone, while the country ahead of us lay concealed in a hazy atmosphere, which did not admit of an extensive view. Eager to reach the well, the caravan being scattered over a great extent of ground, we three travellers, with one of the shoushes, pushed on in advance, the south wind driving the sand, which lay in narrow strips along the pebbly ground, into our faces. We cherished the hope of finding a cool little grove, or at least some shade, where we might recline at ease after our fatiguing march; but, to our great disappointment, the sand became deeper, and nothing was to be seen but small stunted palm-bushes. But even these ceased near the well, which was dug in the midst of the sandy waste, and had once been protected by an oval-shaped building, of which nothing but crumbling ruins remained.

It was a cheerless encampment after so fatiguing a march; but there was at least no more fear of scarcity of water, for the well had an abundant supply. No name could be more appropriate to this place than el Hasi (the well). There is no need of any discriminating surname; it is “the Well”—the well where the traveller who has successfully crossed the Hammáda may be sure to quench his own thirst and that of his animals. But it is not a cheerful resting-place, though it is the great watering-place on this desert road, as he has to cross the fearful “burning plain” of the Hammáda before he reaches the spot. There are several wells hereabouts, which might easily supply with water the largest caravan in an hour’s time; for the water is always bubbling up, and keeps the same level.

The well at the side of which we had encamped is rather narrow and deep, and therefore inconvenient for a large party; but it is, though slightly, protected by the ruins around against the wind, which is often very troublesome, and was particularly so on the evening of our arrival. Formerly there was here a sort of fortified khan, such as is very rarely seen in these parts, built by the tribes of the Notmán and Swaíd, in order to protect their caravans against the pillaging parties of the Urfílla, originally a Berber tribe. This building consisted of simple chambers, twenty, as it seems, in number, lying round an oval court which has entrances from north and south. It is thirty paces long by sixteen wide, the centre being occupied by the well, which, as it is dug in the sandy soil, bears the general name Hasi. It has a depth of five fathoms; and its temperature was found to be 71⅗° Fahr. The quality of the water, in comparison with that of Taboníye, was very good. The elevation of this place was found by Overweg to be 696 feet; so that we had descended from the highest point of the Hammáda 742 feet.

As it was, we felt heartily glad when our steady and heavy Tripolitan tent being at length pitched, we were able to stretch ourselves without being covered with sand. All the people were greatly fatigued, and required repose more than anything else. Out of regard to the men as well as to the camels, we were obliged to stay here the following day, though the place was comfortless in the extreme, and did not offer the smallest bit of shade. Scarcely any of our places of encampment on the whole journey seemed to me so bad and cheerless as this. If I had had an animal to mount, I would have gone on to a cluster of three or four date-trees, which are said to be at the distance of about three miles west from the well, and belong to the people of Zintán, to enjoy a little shade; but our camels were too much distressed.

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There are three roads from el Hasi: the westernmost called Trík eʾ duésa, after a small cluster of palm-trees; the second, called Trík eʾ safar, stony and more desolate than the former, but half a day shorter; and the third, or eastern, leading directly to Bírgen. When we at length left our uncomfortable encampment at el Hasi, our camel-drivers chose the middle road, which proved to be dismal and dreary. But the first part of it was not quite so bad, the appearance of granite among the rocks causing a little variety, while tamerán and shíʿah clothed the bottoms of the valleys; and we had a single specimen of a beautiful and luxuriant batúm-tree. When, however, we began to enter the region of the sand-hills, intermixed with rocky ridges and cliffs, the character of the country became desolate in the extreme.

We travellers, being in advance, chose our resting-place for the first night near a high rocky mass called el Medál, against the wish of the camel-drivers, who would rather have encamped in the Shʿabet eʾ talha, further on. The summit of the rocky eminence afforded a very interesting prospect over this singular district; and our younger shoush discovered, lower down, some scrawled figures. He came running up to inform me of his discovery; but it was of no interest, a cow and a sheep being the only figures plainly recognizable. The Fezzáni people come hither in spring, when the rain-water collects in the cavities of the rocks, and stay some months, in order to allow the camels to graze on the young herbage, which then shoots up here in profusion. Ben Sbaeda during such a stay here had lost a son, near whose tomb the camel-drivers said a prayer, or zikr, early the next morning.

Continuing our march, we soon came to the Shʿabet eʾ talha, the bottom of which is clothed with the brushwood called arfísh, and with the rétem, or broom. Further on, when we came upon the higher rocky ground, the country grew more sterile, though we were so fortunate as to catch two gazelles. Black masses of sandstone jutted out on all sides, and gave a wild air to the desolate region through which we were passing. The sterile character of the scene underwent no change till next morning, when, on advancing about a mile and a half, we came to the Wady Siddre, which was enlivened by a few talha-trees. A narrow defile led us from this place to the Wady Boghár, whence we entered another defile. Mid-day was past, when we obtained a distinct view of the date-grove in Wady Sháti, and the high sand-hills which border the valley on the south. Towards the north it was rather open, and we hastened on to escape from the hot desert through which we were marching; but a good while elapsed before we reached the border of the valley, which on this side abounded in herbage. After a mile and a half we reached the first wild palm-trees, thriving in separate and casually formed groups. Then followed a belt of bare black ground, covered with a whitish crust of salt. The town, on the top of a broad terraced rock, seemed as far off as ever. But I urged on my Bu-Séfi along the winding path over the hard ground; Richardson and Overweg followed close behind, while the camel-drivers had fallen back to exchange their dirty costume for one more decent. At length we reached the north-western foot of the picturesque hill, and chose our camping-ground beyond the shallow bed of a torrent between the date-trees and the corn-fields, near the largest fountain,—a very agreeable resting-place, after the dreary desert which we had traversed.

We had felt tired so long as the place was yet ahead of us; but we had no sooner reached it than all fatigue was gone, and Overweg and I, under the guidance of a mʿallem, went forth to view the interesting features of the locality. It is certainly a very rare spectacle in this quarter of the world, to see a town on the top of a steep terraced hill in the midst of a valley, and occupying an advantageous position which might be supposed to have given the place great importance from very ancient times. Éderi seems to have been a considerable place till fourteen years ago, when the independent spirit of its inhabitants was broken by the despotism of ʿAbd el Jelíl ben Séf eʾ Nasr, the famous chief of the Welád Slimán. The old town on the top of the hill having been destroyed, and there being no longer a necessity for a fortified residence, under the civilized though exhausting government of the Turks, the new village was built at the northern foot of the hill, on which side lies the chapel of the Merábet Bu-Derbála, and another of less fame, a little east of the former, called Sidi ʿAbd eʾ Salám.

The new village has two gates. Crossing it, we ascended the steep narrow streets of the old town, which seems to have been densely inhabited, and from the highest part, which is one hundred and ninety feet above the bottom of the valley, obtained a very interesting view over a great part of the wady, with its varied features,—here, black sandstone, which in several places forms hills of considerable extent; there, green fields of wheat and barley; then, again, a large grove of date-trees scattered in long narrow strips behind the high sand-hills bordering the valley on the south. The black ground, covered with a whitish crust, lay bare and naked in many parts, while in others it was entirely overgrown with herbage. Towards the south the slope of the rock on which, the town stands is rather steep and precipitous. On this side lies the caverns which have been already noticed by Oudney, and which are interesting only on account of the oval-shaped form in which they have been excavated, as they are neither remarkable for dimensions nor for regularity; their general shape is this. A larger group of caverns has been made in a detached rocky eminence, upon which at present the cemetery is situated; but it is only seventy-two feet in length, and its ground-plan is far from being regular.

From this place I went through the adjoining grove, which, with a little more care, might easily become a very beautiful plantation; for there are a great many wells of very little depth, and the water is led through the channels with slight trouble. Our encampment in the beautiful moonlight, with not a breath of wind to disturb the tranquillity of the scene, was pleasant in the extreme, and we all felt much delighted and greatly restored.

Early on Sunday morning, after having finished my sketch of the village on the hill, with our encampment in the foreground, I took a walk all round the scattered groups of the plantation, which must have suffered a great deal from ʿAbd el Jelíl, even though the number of six thousand trees, which he is said to have cut down, be an exaggeration. Towards the east side the salt crust is still thicker than on the west, and is very unpleasant for walking. I found here that, in addition to wheat and barley, much amára was cultivated in the garden-fields, besides a few figs; but I saw no grapes. Several families were living here outside in light huts or sheds made of palm-branches, and seemed to enjoy some degree of happiness. At the south-east end of the plantation rose a hill also formed of marl, and very similar to that on which the town is situated. The names of the villages along the valley, proceeding from west to east, are the following: after Éderi, Témesán; then Wuenzerík, Berga (a couple of villages distinguished as B. el foka and B. el utíyah), Gúta, Turut, El Ghurda, Meherága, Agár, Gógam, Kosaer Sellám, Támezawa, Anerúya, Zeluáz, Abrák, Gíreh, Debdeb, and Ashkiddeh. The valley has two kaíds, one of whom, ʿAbd el Rahmán, resides at present in Temesán, while the residence of the other ʿAgha Hassan eʾ Rawi, is in Támezawa. Meherága seems to be the most populous of the villages. Abrák has the advantage of a school.

We left our picturesque encampment in order to commence the passage over the sand-hills which separate the shallow “rent” of Wady Shiyáti from the deeper valley the Wady el Gharbi, the great valley par excellence. It is rather singular that even the higher ground, which is elevated about fifty feet above the bottom of the valley, is entirely covered with a crust of salt. Having traversed this, we began the ascent of the sand-hills, which in several favoured spots presents small clusters of palm-trees, which too have their proprietors. Mukni, the father of Yusuf, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter, is said to have killed a great many Welád Slimán hereabouts. The most considerable of the depressions or hollows in the sand, which are decked with palm-trees, is the Wady Shiúkh, which afforded in truth a very curious spectacle,—a narrow range of palm-trees half-buried between high sand-hills, some of them standing on the tops of hillocks, others in deep hollows, with the head alone visible. At length after a good deal of fatigue, we encamped in Wady Góber, another shallow cavity between sand-hills with brackish water and a few palm-trees. Here our camel-drivers themselves possessed a few trees, and, of course, were more interested in the inspection of their own property than in starting at an early hour the next day.

When we resumed our march we found our work more difficult than before, the sand-hills assuming a steepness most trying for the camels, particularly at the brink of the slopes. We were several times obliged to flatten away the edges with our hands, in order to facilitate the camel’s ascent. I went generally a little in front, conducted by Mohammed ben Sbaeda, one of our camel-drivers, who, from the moment we had entered Fezzán, had exchanged the quarrelsome character by which he had made himself disagreeable to us, for very obliging and pleasing manners, and was anxious to give me every information. He told me that this belt of sand extended in south-west and north-east direction from Dwésa as far as Fukka, a place, according to him, five days’ march on this side of Sókna. He added, that, however high and steep we might think these sand-hills, they were nothing in comparison with those in the direction of the natron-lakes; but, in making this remark, I think he wanted to excuse himself and his companions for taking us this long way round by the west. He knew that it was our desire to visit the natron-lakes, and that our direct way to Murzuk led by those lakes, while their object was to take us to their native village Ugréfe. Mohammed stated that each district in Fezzán has its own peculiar dialect; and he contended that, while the inhabitants of Wady Sháti speak a good sort of Arabic, similar to that spoken in Mizda, the people of the great wady (Wady el Gharbi) make use of a corrupt dialect.

Meanwhile the caravan remained very far behind, and we thought it prudent to wait for them in Wady Tawíl, particularly as the path divided here. It was so hot that my camel, when I let it loose to browse a little would not touch anything. When the other camel-drivers at length came up, there was a dispute as to the path to be followed; but the truth was, that while there could be no doubt about the direct road to Múrzuk, some of the camel-drivers wished to take us to Ubári. But at length the other party, interested only in carrying us westward as far as Ugréfe, which was a great deal out of our route, got the upper hand, and we left the road to Ubári, which passes only two wadys, or hollows, called Tekúr and Uglah, both with bad water, to the west, and followed the road to Ugréfe.

About four o’clock in the afternoon we encamped in the Wady Mukméda, near the sand-hills bordering its southern side, under the shade of a wild palm-bush. Close to it was very good water only two feet below the surface; but as the hole had only just been made, it contained much sulphuretted hydrogen. The following day we crossed several smaller valleys with a few palm-trees (but a larger grove adorned the Wady Jemál), all belonging to one of our camel-drivers of the name of Bu Bakr. He also possessed here a magazine, built of bricks, and probably several centuries old, but entirely covered with sand, where he had deposited forty camel-loads of dates. They were of the kind called tefsirt, of very large size and exquisite taste, and were eagerly devoured by our people. After having refreshed ourselves for a moment, we went on, having just before us the very steepest ascent that occurs on the whole road. I was obliged to dismount from my beautiful Bu-Séfi in order to get him over it. This ridge being once behind us, we were told that all the “wár” was over; there were, however, still a few “difficult passes” before us. In the Wady Gellah, which we next crossed, we found the footsteps of a flock of sheep and of a single camel, which latter animal finds plenty of food in this sandy district, and, at the shallow well in Wady Uglah, is able to quench its thirst without the assistance of man. Thence we descended into Wady Tigidéfa, where we encamped near a couple of palm-trees, the only ones in the wady; a copious well of very good water was near them, overshadowed by a thick cluster of palm-bushes. It was altogether a very satisfactory camping-ground, except that it swarmed with camel-bugs, as such places in the desert generally do.

With a general impulse of energy, we started this morning at a very early hour,—twenty minutes past two o’clock in the morning—in order to get out of the sands, and to arrive in “the Wady.” After seven hours’ constant march, we at length got a fine view of the steep cliffs which enclose the Wady on the south side, and which contrasted marvellously with the white sand-hills in the foreground; for, stretching out in a horizontal dark line which faded away at each end, they exhibited an illusive picture of a lake spread out before us in the remote distance. The cool east wind, which had blown in the morning, and promised a fine day, changed, as is very common in these regions, towards noon into a hot south wind, and made us very uncomfortable and susceptible of the fatigue of a long march, particularly as the distance proved much greater than we had expected. Indeed it was not till nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, that Mr. Richardson and I, who were much in advance of the caravan, reached the border of the Wady, and shortly afterwards the well Moghrás, at the foot of two tall palm-trees, where we found a woman with two neatly dressed children. They belonged to the Azkár-Tuarek, who, leaving their miserable abodes, migrate to these more fertile districts, where they build themselves light cottages of palm-branches, and indulge in a patriarchal life, breeding camels and rearing sheep. Near almost every village in the Wady, outside the palm-grove, in the bare naked bottom of the valley, these poor people form a sort of suburb of frail huts; but nevertheless they keep up family ties with their brethren near Ghát, and respect in some degree the authority of the chief Nakhnúkhen. That this state of things might become very unfavourable to Fezzán in an outbreak of hostilities between the Turks and the Tuarek, is obvious; I shall have occasion to say more on this subject further on. A belt of saline incrustation, of more than half a mile in breadth, runs through the middle of the valley, forming a line of demarcation between the separate palm-groups and the continuous grove.

On reaching this grove we soon caught sight of the famous village Ugréfe, the residence of our camel-drivers, which was to them the grand point of attraction, and in truth the only cause of our taking this westerly route. It consisted of about thirty light and low dwellings made of clay and palm-branches, and lay near an open space where we were desired to encamp: but longing for shade, we went a little further on, and encamped near two splendid ethel-trees (Tamarix orientalis), the largest I ever saw before I reached Égeri. When the camels came up and the tents were pitched, the encampment proved most agreeable.

Early next morning I was again in motion, roving over the plantation, and was very much pleased with its general character. The corn, which was a fine crop, was just ripe and about to be harvested; and close to our camping-ground two negro slaves were employed in cutting it, while three or four negresses carried it away to the stores. The negroes were powerful young fellows; the women were rather ugly, excepting one, who had a very handsome figure, and by coquettish demeanour tried to make herself more attractive. All of them accompanied their work with singing and wanton movements, and gave distinct manifestations of the customs of this district, which is notorious for the familiarity of its female inhabitants with the large caravans of pilgrims who annually pass through the Wady on their way to or from Mekka. The fields are watered from large holes or wells, which are sunk through layers of variegated marl.

Being anxious to visit Old Jerma, and to convince myself of its identity with the Garama of the Romans, I hired a miserable little donkey, and, accompanied by the stupid young son of Sbaeda, set out on an exploring expedition into the eastern part of the valley. Keeping in general along the southern border of the plantation, and having on my right the precipitous rocky cliff, of from 300 to 400 feet elevation, I went on slowly till I reached the south-west corner of Jerma kadím, fortified with a quadrangular tower built of clay, and exhibiting a very curious arrangement in its interior. The whole circumference of the town, which was deserted long ago, is about 5,000 paces. Here, near the town, there are no Roman ruins whatever, but the remains of several large and strong towers built of clay are to be seen a little further on; and being unable to make out the sepulchre described by Dr. Oudney, I was obliged to go to Tawásh, the village inhabited by the Merabetín. It is divided into three distinct parts, a Tarki village, consisting of huts of palm-branches, an outer suburb of scattered dwellings built of clay, and a small quadrangular place of very regular shape, surrounded by earthen walls, and furnished with two gates, one on the east, and the other on the west side, and regular streets crossing at right angles. Having here obtained a guide from Háj Mohammed Sʿaídi, a wealthy man and the owner of almost all our camels, I started for the Roman monument, situated in a wide opening of the southern recess. I found it in tolerably good preservation, and without delay made a sketch of it, as it seemed to me to be an object of special interest as the southernmost relic of the Roman dominion. It is a remarkable fact, that several years before the beginning of our era the Romans should have penetrated as far as this place; and that their dominion here was not of a merely transitory nature, this monument seems clearly to show. It is only one story high, and seems never to have been loftier. This is evidently characteristic of the age in which it was built; and I am persuaded that it is not later than the time of Augustus. Those high steeple-tombs which I have described above, seem not to have come into fashion before the middle of the second century after Christ. The base measures 7 ft. 9½ in. on the west and east sides, and at least 7 ft. 4 in. on the other two sides, including a spacious sepulchral chamber or burial-room; but while the base forms almost a quadrangle, the sides of the principal structure are of very different dimensions, measuring not more than 5 ft. 8½ in. on the north and south, and 7 ft. on the west and east sides. It is adorned with pilasters of the Corinthian order. The whole monument is covered with Tefínagh or Berber writing, which was not only intelligible to me, but also to our young camel-driver ʿAli Carámra, whose family lives in this part of the wady, in a homely little dwelling of palm-leaves. However, as the writing was very careless, and my time was fully taken up with sketching the more important subjects, I did not copy the inscriptions, which indeed are only names; but of course even names might contribute something towards elucidating the history of the country.

By a direct path I returned from this place to our encampment, and felt rather fatigued, having been in motion during all the heat of the day. The south wind still increased in the evening; and we could distinctly see that it was raining towards the longed-for region whither we were going, while we had nothing from it but clouds of sand. Overweg, meanwhile, had ascended in the morning the highest cliff of the sandstone rocks forming the southern border of the valley, and had found it to be 1,605 feet high or 413 feet above the ground at our encampment.

Having heard, the day before, in the village of Merabetín, that Háj Mohammed, the owner of our camels, ordered the boy who was with me to tell Sbaeda, his father, that they should not start before this evening, I was not surprised at our camel-drivers not bringing the camels in the morning. It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon when Overweg and I at length pushed on, entering the extensive grove of New Jerma,—a miserable place, which being entirely shut in by the palm-grove, is almost deserted. The grove, however, exhibited a very interesting aspect, all the trees being furnished with a thick cluster of palm-bush at their roots, while the old dry leaves were left hanging down underneath the young fresh crown, and even lower down the stem, not being cut off so short as is customary near the coast. But picturesque as the state of the trees was, it did not argue much in favour of the industry of the inhabitants; for it is well known to Eastern travellers that the palm-tree is most picturesque in its wildest state. Beyond the town the grove becomes thinner, and the ethel-tree predominates over the palm-tree; but there is much palm-bush.

We entered another grove, which stretches far northward into the valley, its produce being, according to our camel-drivers, entirely reserved for the poor. Having passed Tawásh, with its little grove, we entered the fine plantation of Brék, enlivened by the bleating of sheep and goats. Here, in the small fields where corn is cultivated, the ground is thickly encrusted with salt and soda. We at length encamped near the grove of Tewíwa, close to the village of the same name, and to the north side of the Merábet Sidi eʾ Salám.

The next morning, while the camels were loading, I visited the interior of the village. The walls have given way in several places, and the whole made the impression of a half-deserted place; but the little kasbah, which is never wanting in any of these towns, was in tolerable condition. One of the inhabitants, on being asked why the village was so much decayed, told me that a torrent had destroyed a great portion of it nine years ago, in consequence of which the greater part of its population had dispersed abroad, only about twenty families now remaining. But this is the condition of nearly all the places in Fezzán; and it can be partially accounted for only by supposing that many of the male inhabitants go off to Negroland, to avoid being made soldiers. A very extensive grove belongs to Tewíwa; but the plain between the village and the rocks is rather open, only a few patches of corn-field being scattered thereabouts. Three vast and detached buttresses, which jut out from the cliffs into the plain, give a very picturesque appearance to the groves and villages which we passed on our route. We were just proceeding in the best manner, when a halt was ordered, from very insufficient reasons, a little south from the village Tekertíba, where we were to pass the heat. Meanwhile I ascended a ridge of rocks which, a little further down, crossed the valley from the southern border. The ridge was a narrow, steep, wall-like cliff, which afforded a very interesting view of the end, or rather beginning, of the fertile Wady, which was close at hand.

From the highest point of the ridge I descended northwards, crossing a small defile, which is formed between the two rocky buttresses to the north and south, the latter being the more considerable. Along it runs a path, connecting the two valleys. Here I obtained a view of the fresh green valley on the one side, and the destructive sand-hills on the other, and directed my steps to the plantation, where young people were busily engaged in drawing water from the large pond-like wells. The beams, by means of which the water is drawn up, require to be strongly constructed, the whole of the khattár having the height of from sixty to eighty feet. These draw-wells are always placed in pairs; and a couple of miserable asses, partners in suffering, do all the work. The young male labourers all wore straw hats, and had an energetic appearance.

The northern border of the plantation is now menaced by the approach of the sand-hills, which have already overwhelmed the last range of palm-trees. There is a curious tradition in Tekertíba, that from the highest peak of the cliffs bordering the valley on the south side, a rivulet or brook, issuing from a spring, runs down into the valley underground. There were, it is related, originally several canals or stream-works leading down to this subterranean aqueduct; but they have been all filled up. The village itself, on the south border of the plantation, is tolerably large, but is inhabited by only forty families at the utmost, though it is the most populous place in the valley next to Ubári.

By the exertion of much energy, I at length succeeded in the afternoon in getting our little caravan again under way; and we left the Great Wady through the defile, which appears to have been once defended by walls, and, having crossed some irregular depressed plains, encamped at seven o’clock in the evening in a wady with a moderate supply of herbage. Starting on the following morning, at an early hour, we soon emerged into a more open level, beautifully adorned with fine talha-trees, and having with difficulty dragged on our camel-drivers, who shortly afterwards wanted to encamp in Wady Resán, we entered a dreary wilderness, from which we did not emerge till we arrived at the plantation of Aghár, where we encamped.

All the people were eager to reach to-day the first great station of our journey; but owing to the straying of some of the camels, we were unable to start quite as early as we wished. The country in general was very sterile, presenting only a few small date-groves, which we passed at greater or less distance, and at length, when we reached the plantation of Múrzuk itself, we were far from finding in it that picturesque and refreshing character which we had admired in the palm-groves of the Wady. These had formed a dense beautiful shade and fine groups; while the plantation of Múrzuk was scattered about in thin growth, so that it was scarcely possible to determine exactly where it began or where it ended. Thus we reached the wall of the town, built of a sort of clay glittering with saline incrustations; and going round the whole western and northern sides, which have no gate wide enough for a caravan, we halted on the eastern side of the town, not far from the camp of the pilgrims who were returning from Egypt to Marocco and Tawát, till Mr. Gagliuffi came out of the town, and brought us in. Mr. Richardson had arrived about an hour before us. I was lodged in a cool and airy room on the north-east corner of Mr. Gagliuffi’s house, which had within the court a very pleasant half-covered hall. Mr. Gagliuffi treated us with all possible hospitality, and did all in his power to render our stay in the town agreeable.

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July 5.—We had to separate from the Tinýlkum, and from our luggage, without having any certainty as to where and when we might overtake them. The chiefs of Ghát, too, had started in advance. The country had been rising all the way from Wady Sháraba, which seems to form the lowest point in this whole region, and we ascended to-day very considerably. Pushing on in advance of our little troop, and passing a small caravan, which was laden with provisions and merchandise belonging to the pilgrim-caravan of the Tawáti, I soon came up with Hatíta and his companions. They were civil and kind, but the old friend of the English, who had an eye to a new marriage with some pretty Amóshagh girl some forty or fifty years younger than himself, gave me sundry expressive hints that I should spare him something of my outfit,—either a pair of pistols, or a carpet, or a bernús, or any other little article. My refusal in no wise rendered him uncivil. While he was riding by my side, I took the opportunity of making a slight sketch of him,—his English gun, the gift of some previous traveller, forming a striking contrast to his large shield of antelope-hide, ornamented with a cross. Having crossed another valley of some extent, we descended into Wady Elghom-udé (the Valley of the Camel), which, richly clothed with herbage, forms an inlet in the stony plateau from north to south, and has a very cheerful aspect. The encampment, spread over a great extent of ground, formed quite an ethnographical museum, comprising as it did six distinct small caravan-troops from different parts of Africa, and even of Europe.

July 6.—A splendid morning, cool and fresh. We were happy to meet a small caravan coming from Sudán, which brought us some important pieces of news: first, that they had come to Ghát in the company of five men belonging to the family of Ánnur (the chief of the Kél-owí), who, after a short stay, would return to their country; and secondly, that the expedition of the Kél-owí had returned from Kánem, after having totally annihilated the Welád Slimán. They brought with them seventeen slaves, among whom were fifteen females, one with a very engaging countenance. After less than three miles’ march, our companions looked about in the Wady Telísaghé for a camping-ground. The valley proved of more than ordinary interest. It was hemmed in by steep cliffs of rock, and adorned with some fine talha-trees. With no great reluctance we followed the Tuarek chiefs, who kept along its steep western border, and at length chose the camping-ground at a spot where a western branch joins the principal wady. Scarcely had we pitched our tents, when we became aware that the valley contained some remarkable sculptures deserving our particular attention.

The spot where we had pitched our tents afforded a very favourable locality for commemorating any interesting events, and the sandstone blocks which studded it were covered with drawings representing various subjects, more or less in a state of preservation. With no pretensions to be regarded as finished sculptures, they are made with a firm and steady hand, well accustomed to such work, and, being cut to a great depth, bore a totally different character from what is generally met with in these tracts. The most interesting sculpture represented the following subject, the description of which I am unfortunately able at present to accompany with only an imperfect woodcut.

The sculpture represents a group of three individuals of the following character and arrangement:—

To the left is seen a tall human figure, with the head of a peculiar kind of bull, with long horns turned forward and broken at the point; instead of the right arm, he has a peculiar organ terminating like an oar, while in the left hand he carries an arrow and a bow—at least such is the appearance, though it might be mistaken for a shield; between his legs a long tail is seen hanging down from his slender body. The posture of this figure is bent forward, and all its movements are well represented. Opposite to this curious individual is another one of not less remarkable character, but of smaller proportions, entirely human as far up as the shoulders, while the head is that of an animal which reminds us of the Egyptian ibis, without being identical with it. The small pointed head is furnished with three ears, or with a pair of ears and some other excrescence, and beyond with a sort of hood (which, more than any other particular, recalls the idea of Egyptian art), but it is not furrowed; over the fore part of the head is a round line representing some ornament, or perhaps the basilisk. This figure likewise has a bow in its right hand, but, as it would seem, no arrow, while the left hand is turned away from the body.

Between these two half-human figures, which are in a hostile attitude, is a bullock, small in proportion to the adjacent lineaments of the human figure, but chiselled with the same care and the same skilful hand, with the only exception that the feet are omitted, the legs terminating in points, a defect which I shall have occasion to notice also in another sculpture. There is another peculiarity about this figure, the upper part of the bull, by some accident, having been hollowed out, while in general all the inner part between the deeply chiselled outlines of these sculptures is left in high relief. The animal is turned with its back towards the figure on the right, whose bow it seems about to break. The block on which it was sculptured was about four feet in breadth, and three in height. It was lying loose on the top of the cliff.

No barbarian could have graven the lines with such astonishing firmness, and given to all the figures the light, natural shape which they exhibit. The Romans, who had firmly established their dominion as far as Garama, or Jerma, might easily have sent emissaries to this point, and even further; but the sculptures have nothing in them of a Roman character. Some few particulars call to mind the Egyptian sculptures. But on the whole it seems to be a representation of a subject taken from the native mythology, executed by some one who had been in intimate relation with the more advanced people on the coast, perhaps with the Carthaginians. Be this as it may, it is scarcely doubtful that the subject represents two divinities disputing over a sacrifice, and that the figure at the left is intended for the victor.

On the cliff itself there is another sculpture on a large block which, now that the western end is broken off, is about twelve feet long and five feet high. The surface of the block is quite smooth, protected as it has been, in some degree, by the block above, which projects considerably; nevertheless the sculpture has suffered a good deal. It bears testimony to a state of life very different from that which we are accustomed to see now in these regions, and illustrates and confirms St. Augustine’s statement that the ancient kings of this country made use of bulls for their conveyance. It represents a dense group of oxen in a great variety of positions, but all moving towards the right, where probably, on the end of the stone which is now broken off, the pond or well was represented from which the beasts were to be watered. Some of these bulls are admirably executed, and with a fidelity which can scarcely be accounted for, unless we suppose that the artist had before his eyes the animals which he chiselled. My sketch gives only a faint idea of the design, which is really beautiful. The only defect, as I have already remarked above, is in the feet, which, from some reason or other, have been negligently treated.

If we consider that the sculpture described is close to a watering-place on the high road to Central Africa, we are reduced to the conjecture that at that time cattle were not only common in this region, but even that they were the common beasts of burden instead of the camel, which we here look for in vain. Not only has the camel no place among these sculptures, but even among the rude outlines which at a much later period have been made on the blocks around, representing buffaloes, ostriches, and another kind of birds, there are no camels; and it is a well-known fact that the camel was introduced into the western part of Northern Africa at a much later period.

There was a similar group on another block of this interesting cliff, but too much effaced to allow the particulars to be distinguished; but the figure of an ass among the oxen was quite clear, as well as that of a horse, which was, however, ill-drawn. Not far off, Overweg found another sculptured stone, representing, as the annexed sketch shows, an ox jumping through or falling into a ring or hoop, which I should suppose to have an allegorical meaning, or to represent a sacrifice, rather than, as Mr. Richardson thought, to represent any games of the circus. There was a circle regularly laid with large blocks of rock, at the south-western slope of the cliff; these, I should suspect, belong to the same, period as the sculptures before mentioned.

To a later period belong innumerable inscriptions in Tefínagh, with which the cliffs on the other side of the valley and overhanging the waterpond are covered. These are mere scribblings, and are interesting merely as they serve to render evident, by contrast, the superior merit and age of the adjacent sculptures. It appeared to me remarkable that on this side, where the water now principally collects, not a single drawing should be seen; and I formed the conclusion that in more ancient times the water collected on the other side.

The valley is formed by the junction of two branches coming from the north, of which the western is the more considerable, being joined by some smaller wadys. Just at the place of our encampment it changed its direction, and extended from west to east, having run in its upper course from north-west to south-east. After the junction, the valley runs from north to south, and loses for a moment almost the character of a wady, while running over pebbly ground; but it soon becomes once more well-bordered and adorned with fine groups of talha-trees, and in some places exhibits a river-bed eight feet deep, and still wet. Near a shepherd’s cave there was a very luxuriant tree, under whose shade I lay down. Towards evening the pilgrim-caravan of Haj ʿAbd el Káder, which had delayed so long in the wady, arrived. The whole valley resounded with the cries of the men and their camels, who were all eagerly pressing towards the pond at the foot of the steep cliffs. Fortunately we had already laid in a supply of water, else we should not have been able to obtain any fit to drink.

July 7.—Owing to the camels having strayed to a great distance, we started at a late hour, still leaving the Tuarek chiefs behind, who wanted to settle some business with the Tawáti, and for this purpose had changed their dirty travelling-dress for showy caftans and bernúses. We ascended the higher level, and continued along it, crossing some small beds of watercourses overgrown with herbage, till, after a little more than four miles, we had to descend into a deep and wild ravine which led us to a vale. Having again ascended, we then came to the wide and regular valley called Erazar-n-Hágarné, bordered by steep cliffs from 150 to 200 feet high, and richly clothed with herbage. Following the windings of this large wady, which evidently has received its name from the circumstance that the Hogár or Hágara pasture their camels chiefly hereabouts, we reached the point where it is joined by the valley called Áman sémmedné, and encamped near a fine talha-tree in order to allow Hatíta to come up. This valley has its name from the cold water which at times descends from the plateau in floods, of which the deeply worn channel bears evident traces; it is joined at this place by an important branch valley and several smaller ravines.

When the heat of the sun began to decline, I took a walk through the valley, and being attracted by a circle laid out very regularly with large slabs like the opening of a well, I began to ascend the steep cliffs opposite the mouth of the valley of Áman sémmedné, rising to a height of about 500 feet, and which, as I clearly saw, had been repeatedly ascended. The cliffs are here, as is usual in this formation, broken into regular strata, and steep flat blocks standing upright give them an imposing appearance. My search here, however, led only to the discovery of the well-chiselled form of a single bullock, in exactly the same style as that in Wady Telísaghé, though it had suffered a little from its exposed situation; but the whole appearance of the locality shows that in former times it contained more of this kind. On the plain above the cliffs is another circle regularly laid out, and, like the many circles seen in Cyrenaica and in other parts of Northern Africa, evidently connected with the religious rites of the ancient inhabitants of these regions. Quartz pebbles were scattered about this part of the valley.

Our people meanwhile had been busy laying in provision of dry herbage for the next marches, during which we were told our camels would scarcely find anything to feed upon; and our Tuarek friends, when they at length arrived for their supper, did the same.

The caravan of the Tawáti having passed by our encampment at an early hour, we followed betimes, having an interesting day’s march before us. For the first three miles we still kept along the large valley, into which masses of sand had been driven down from the plateau by the strong east winds; further on it became dry and bare. To this succeeded an irregular knot of hollows and plains between the sides of the plateau, which in some places formed imposing promontories and detached buttresses, all on one and the same level. We then began to ascend along a sort of broad valley, which gradually assumed a regular shape, and bore the name of Tísi. The slope of the plateau was shaped into regular strata, the uppermost of which form steep precipices like the wall of a castle; the lower ones slope, down more gradually. Here we discovered ahead of us, at the foot of the southern slope, the encampment of the pilgrim-caravan, who were resting during the heat of the day. We continued our march, always ascending, till a little after noon we reached the edge of the pass, a perfect watershed, of more than 2,000 feet elevation, descending more gradually towards the east as far as the well of Sháraba, while towards the west is formed a steep precipice, passable only along a most interesting gully cut into it by the water towards the Valley of Ghát. The higher level, which rises above the pass about 300 feet, seems to be considerably depressed in this place, where it collects large floods of water, such as could alone cut the remarkably wild passage through the sandstone cliffs which we were about to descend: it is called Rálle.

The first part of it was more rough than wild, and the cliffs of the sandstone rather rugged and split than precipitous and grand; but after half an hour’s descent it bore evident traces of the waters that descend from the heights, and which being here collected into one mighty stream, with enormous power, force their way down through a narrow channel. The defile was here encompassed by rocky walls about a hundred feet high, half of which consisted of sandstone, while the other half was formed by a thick deposit of marl; and a little further down it was not more than six feet wide, and the floor and the walls were as smooth as if they had been cut by the hand of man; but the course of the defile was rather winding and not at all in a straight line, forming altogether a pass easily to be defended by a very small power, and affording the Tuarek a stronghold against any designs of conquest on the side of the Turks, although it does not form the frontier, but is regarded as entirely belonging to Fezzán. At the narrowest point Tuarek as well as Arab travellers had recorded their names.

Where the channel began to widen there were some curious narrow gaps or crevices on both sides, the one to the right, with its smooth rounded surface, bearing a great similarity to the famous Ear of Dionysius in Syracuse. The walls contained strata of chalk and ironstone, and Overweg found here some interesting petrifactions. The crevice to the left was less deep, and rather resembled a cell or chamber.

Having here waited some time for the boat to come up, we started together, but had still to get through two more narrow passes of the wady, and at four o’clock in the afternoon entered another very narrow defile, the steep cliffs forming it being covered with inscriptions. At length, after a descent of altogether four hours, we emerged into the open plain some 600 feet below, and had a wide view of the high precipitous cliffs of the plateau, stretching out in several buttresses into the plain, which is interrupted only by detached hills. Amongst these was a rather remarkable one upon a terrace-like base, and opening with three caverns towards the roadside. Ascending the terrace, I found the westernmost of the caverns vaulted, as if by art, in the shape of a large niche, but it was a little filled with sand; I found, however, no inscriptions nor anything but four round holes, about nine inches in diameter, hollowed out in a slab on the terrace in front of the cavern. Beyond this hill, where Hatíta told us that he had once passed the heat of the day with ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) and the tabíb (Oudney), the country is quite open towards the north. About sunset we encamped in the deep Erazar-n-Tese; there were a few talha-trees and some herbage.

The following day our route lay over the dreary plain, where nothing but the varied form of the rocky buttresses projecting from the plateau into the plain interrupted the monotony of the prospect. Near the slope the country seems a little less desolate, and the valley Támelelt, which extends between two of the promontories, has even a great reputation among the natives. In the afternoon we entered a sandy region, when we began to ascend gradually till we reached the summit of the sand-hills. We then continued on the higher level, where chalk protruded to the surface. After a long march we encamped on stony ground, covered only with a scanty growth of sebót.

On the 10th we descended a good deal from this higher ground. At first the descent was gradual; but beyond the valley In-kássewa, which, running through high rocky ground, is not so poor in herbage, we descended about two hundred feet by steep terraces, having before us the peculiarly serrated crest of the Akakús, and in front of it some lower offshoots covered with sand. The bottom of the plain was a broad and entirely naked level, with hard calcareous soil, surrounded by irregular half-decayed hilly ridges. It forms the boundary between Fezzán and the country of the Hogár. The character of the country underwent no change till we reached the valley Telíga, where, at an early hour in the afternoon, we encamped near a group of talha-trees, not far from the well, and remained for the next two days at an elevation of 1,435 feet.

The valley is very shallow, now and then interrupted by some sand-hills and adorned with some fine specimens of the ethel-tree, while broad strips of herbage cover the more favoured spots. It runs north-west, nearly parallel with the range of the Akakús, which remained at a distance of three miles. It joins the valley Ilághlaghén, which again unites with the Titábtarén; and this valley runs towards a favoured spot called Sérdales, which we were unfortunately prevented from visiting, as Hatíta thought we should be annoyed by the begging propensities of the people. Copious springs, from which the whole locality takes the name of el Awenát, irrigate and fertilize the soil, and support a village of about the same size as Tigger-odé, inhabited by about a hundred families, while in the gardens corn, melons, and ghédeb are produced in tolerable quantity. The water of the springs is said to be warm. We saw a party of Hágara from that place, who called on our friends; they were fine men and neatly dressed.

The water of our well was not very good; from being at first discoloured, it gradually acquired a taste like that of ink, and when boiled with tea became entirely black. Late in the evening our best and most steady servant, Mohammed from Gatrón, was wounded, but whether stung by a scorpion or bitten by a snake he knew not, and was much alarmed. We applied spirits of hartshorn to the wound; but he was very ill for the next twenty-four hours, and totally disabled, so that we were obliged to bind him on the camel during the next day’s march.

July 13.—There had been much talk for some days to the effect that we travellers, together with Hatíta, should take the nearer but more difficult road to Ghát across the range, while our luggage should go by the longer but smoother road round the mountains; but it was at length decided that we should all go by the longer road, and none but the Sfaksi, who was anxious to overtake the caravan as soon as possible, took the more difficult path, which, for geological observations, might have proved the more interesting. Going sometimes on pebbly, at others on sandy ground, after five miles we reached the shallow valley, Ilághlaghén, running from east to west, and handsomely overgrown with bushes; and after another stretch of about the same length, we entered the range of mountains, consisting of remarkably cragged and scarred rocks, with many narrow defiles. Altogether it presented a very curious spectacle.

When the rocks assumed a smoother appearance, we suddenly descended into a deep ravine, which, at the first glance, appeared to be of a volcanic nature; but, on closer inspection, all the black rocks composing these dismal-looking cliffs, proved to consist of sandstone, blackened by the influence of the atmosphere; further on it was disposed in regular strata very much like slate. The western and highest part of the range seems to consist of clay-slate. The valley changed its character in some degree after its junction with a side-valley called Tipérkum, which bears distinct marks of great floods occasionally descending along its channel from the mountains. Here we collected some firewood, as we were told that further on we should find none, and then entered a defile or glen with an ascent of about a hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. Beyond this the scene grew more open, and irregular plains, interrupted by steep buttresses, succeeded each other.

At half-past four o’clock in the afternoon we had gradually begun to change our direction from north-west by west to south. The valley was bordered by a deep chasm and craggy mountain to the right, and a range of grotesque promontories towards the left, the slope of which was broken into a variety of terraces, with several cones rising from them. At length, turning round the edge of the mountain range, we entered the broad valley of Tánesof, having before us the isolated and castellated crest of Mount Ídinen, or Kasr Jenún, and on our left the long range of the Akakús, beautifully illuminated by the setting sun, and forming a sort of relief in various colours, the highest precipitous crest, with its castles and towers, being white, while the lower slope, which was more gradual and rugged, disclosed regular strata of red marl. Towards the west the valley, about five miles broad, was bordered by sand-hills, whence the sand was carried by the wind over its whole surface. We ourselves encamped at length on sandy soil without the least herbage, while at the distance of about two miles a strip of green was seen running along the valley.

Starting at an early hour the next day, we kept along the broad barren valley straight for the Enchanted Castle, which the fanciful reports of our companions had invested with great interest. Notwithstanding, or perhaps in consequence of, the warnings of the Tuarek not to risk our lives in so irreligious and perilous an undertaking as a visit to this dwelling of the demons, I made up my mind to visit it, convinced as I was that it was an ancient place of worship, and that it might probably contain some curious sculptures or inscriptions. Just at noon the naked bottom of the valley began to be covered with a little herbage, when, after another mile, beyond a depression in the ground which had evidently at one time formed a considerable water-pond, talha-trees and ethel-bushes broke the monotony of the landscape, while between the sand-hills on our right a broad strip of green was seen, coming from the westernmost corner of the Ídinen. Keeping still on for about five miles, we encamped in the midst of a shallow concavity of circular shape, surrounded by herbage, and near a large mound crowned by an ethel-tree. At some distance south-east we had the well Táhala, the water of which proved very good. As it was too late to visit the Ídinen to-day, I sat down in the shade of a fine talha, and made the subjoined sketch of it. In the evening we received a visit from two men belonging to a caravan laden with merchandise of Ghadamsíyin (people of Ghadámes), which was said to have come, by the direct road through the wady, in thirty days from Tripoli.

July 15.—This was a dies ater for me. Overweg and I had determined to start early in the morning for the remarkable mountain; but we had not been able to obtain from the Tuarek a guide to conduct us from thence to the next well, whither the caravan was to proceed by the direct road. Hatíta and Utaeti having again resisted all our solicitations for a guide, I at length, determined as I was to visit the mountain at any cost, started off in the confidence of being able to make out the well in the direction indicated to me. By ill-luck, our provision of zummíta (a cool and refreshing paste on which we were accustomed to breakfast) was exhausted the day before, so that I was obliged to take with me dry biscuit and dates, the worst possible food in the desert when water is scarce.

But as yet I needed no stimulus, and vigorously pushed my way through the sand-hills, which afforded no very pleasant passage. I then entered a wide, bare, desolate-looking plain, covered with black pebbles, from which arose a few black mounds. Here I crossed the beginning of a fiumara richly overgrown with herbage, which wound along through the sand-hills towards the large valley-plain. It was the abode of a beautiful pair of maraiya (Antelope Soemmeringii), which, probably anxious for their young ones, did not make off when roused by my approach, but stopped at a short distance, gazing at me and wagging their tails. Pursuing my way over the pebbly ground, which gradually rose till it was broken up by a considerable ravine descending from the western part of the mount, I disturbed another party of three antelopes, which were quietly lying down under the cover of some large blocks. At last I began to feel fatigued from walking over the sharp-pointed pebbles, as the distance proved to be greater than I had originally imagined, and I did not seem to have got much nearer to the foot of the Enchanted Mountain. In fact it proved that the crest of the mount formed a sort of horseshoe, so that its middle part, for which I had been steering all the time, in order to gain a depression which seemed to afford an easy ascent, was by far the remotest. I therefore changed my course and turned more eastward, but only met with more annoyance, for, ascending the slope which I hoped would soon convey me to the summit, I suddenly came to the steep precipice of a deep ravine, which separated me from the crest.

Being already fatigued, the disappointment, of course, depressed my spirits, and I had to summon all my resolution and energy in order to descend into the ravine and climb the other side. It was now past ten o’clock; the sun began to put forth its full power, and there was not the slightest shade around me. In a state of the utmost exhaustion I at length reached the narrow pinnacled crest, which was only a few feet broad, and exhibited neither inscriptions nor sculptures. I had a fine prospect towards the south-west and north-east, but I looked around in vain for any traces of our caravan. Though exposed to the full rays of the sun, I lay down on my high barbacan to seek repose; but my dry biscuit or a date was quite unpalatable, and being anxious about my little provision of water, I could only sip an insufficient draught from my small water-skin. As the day advanced I feared that our little band, thinking that I was already in advance, might continue their march in the afternoon, and, in spite of my weakness, determined to try to reach the encampment. I therefore descended the ravine, in order to follow its course, which, according to Hatíta’s indications, would lead me in the direction of the well. It was very hot, and being thirsty, I swallowed at once the little water that remained. This was about noon, and I soon found that the draught of mere water, taken upon an empty stomach, had not at all restored my strength.

At length I reached the bottom of the valley. Hatíta had always talked as if they were to encamp at no great distance from the mountain; yet, as far as I could strain my view, no living being was to be seen. At length I became puzzled as to my direction, and hurrying on as fast as my failing strength would allow, I ascended a mound crowned with an ethel-bush, and fired my pistols; but I waited in vain for an answer: a strong east wind was blowing dead against me. Reflecting a moment on my situation, I then crossed the small sand-hills, and, ascending another mound, fired again. Convinced that there could be nobody in this direction, at least at a moderate distance, I bethought myself that our party might be still behind, and, very unluckily, I kept more directly eastward.

The valley was here very richly overgrown with sebót, and to my great delight I saw at a distance some small huts attached to branches of the ethel-tree, covered on the top with sebót, and open in front. With joy in my heart I hastened on towards them, but found them empty; and not a living being was to be seen, nor was there a drop of water to be got. My strength being now exhausted, I sat down on the naked plain, with a full view before me of the whole breadth of the wady, and with some confidence expected the caravan. I even thought, for a moment, that I beheld a string of camels passing in the distance. But it was an illusion; and when the sun was about to set, not being able to muster strength enough to walk a few paces without sitting down, I had only to choose for my night’s quarters between the deserted huts and an ethel-tree which I saw at a little distance. I chose the latter, as being on a more elevated spot, and therefore scrambled to the tree, which was of a respectable old age, with thick tall branches, but almost leafless. It was my intention to light a fire, which promised almost certain deliverance; but I could not muster sufficient strength to gather a little wood. I was broken down and in a feverish state.

Having lain down for an hour or two, after it became quite dark I arose from the ground, and, looking around me, descried, to my great joy, a large fire south-west down the valley, and, hoping that it might be that of my companions, I fired a pistol, as the only means of communicating with them, and listened as the sound rolled along, feeling sure that it would reach their ears; but no answer was returned. All remained silent. Still I saw the flame rising towards the sky, and telling where deliverance was to be found, without my being able to avail myself of the signal. Having waited long in vain, I fired a second time—yet no answer. I lay down in resignation, committing my life to the care of the Merciful One; but it was in vain that I tried to sleep, and, restless and in a high fever, I tossed about on the ground, looking with anxiety and fear for the dawn of the next day.

At length the long night wore away, and dawn was drawing nigh. All was repose and silence, and I was sure I could not choose a better time for trying to inform my friends, by signal, of my whereabouts. I therefore collected all my strength, loaded my pistol with a heavy charge, and fired—once—twice. I thought the sound ought to awaken the dead from their tombs, so powerfully did it reverberate from the opposite range and roll along the wady; yet no answer. I was at a loss to account for the great distance apparently separating me from my companions, who seemed not to have heard my firing.

The sun that I had half longed for, half looked forward to with terror, at last rose. My condition, as the heat went on increasing, became more dreadful; and I crawled around, changing every moment my position, in order to enjoy the little shade afforded by the leafless branches of the tree. About noon there was of course scarcely a spot of shade left—only enough for my head—and I suffered greatly from the pangs of thirst, although I sucked a little of my blood till I became senseless, and fell into a sort of delirium, from which I only recovered when the sun went down behind the mountains. I then regained some consciousness, and crawled out of the shade of the tree, throwing a melancholy glance over the plain, when suddenly I heard the cry of a camel. It was the most delightful music I ever heard in my life; and raising myself a little from the ground, I saw a mounted Tarki passing at some distance from me, and looking eagerly around. He had found my footsteps in the sandy ground, and losing them again on the pebbles, was anxiously seeking traces of the direction I had taken. I opened my parched mouth, and crying, as loud as my faint strength allowed, “Áman, áman” (Water, water), I was rejoiced to get for answer “Íwah! íwah!” and in a few moments he sat at my side, washing and sprinkling my head, while I broke out involuntarily into an uninterrupted strain of “El hamdu lilláhi! el hamdu lilláhi!”

Having thus first refreshed me, and then allowed me a draught, which, however, I was not able to enjoy, my throat being so dry, and my fever still continuing, my deliverer, whose name was Musa, placed me upon his camel, mounted himself in front of me, and brought me to the tents. They were a good way off. The joy of meeting again, after I had been already despaired of, was great; and I had to express my sincere thanks to my companions, who had given themselves so much trouble to find me. But I could speak but little at first, and could scarcely eat anything for the next three days, after which I gradually recovered my strength. It is, indeed, very remarkable how quickly the strength of a European is broken in these climes, if for a single day he be prevented from taking his usual food. Nevertheless I was able to proceed the next day (the 17th), when we kept more towards the slope of the Akakús, and here passed a broad lateral valley, rich in herbage, called Ádar-n-jelkum, after which we descended about a hundred feet, from the pebbly ground into sandy soil forming a sort of valley called Ighelfannís, and full of ethel-trees and sebót. In such a locality we encamped two hours after noon, near splendid ethel-trees; but the strong north-easterly wind, enveloping ourselves and baggage in thick clouds of sand, banished all enjoyment.

July 18.—We continued our march with the sure expectation of soon reaching Ghát, the second great station on our journey. The valley after some time became free from ethel-trees, and opened a view of the little town, situated at the north-western foot of a rocky eminence jutting out into the valley, and girt by sand-hills on the west. Its plantation extends in a long strip towards south-south-west, while another group, formed by the plantation and by the noble-looking mansion of Háj Ahmed, appears towards the west. Here we were joined by Mohammed Sheríf, a nephew of Háj Ahmed, in a showy dress, and well mounted on a horse; and we separated from Hatíta in order to take our way round the north side of the hill, so as to avoid exciting the curiosity and importunity of the townspeople. But a good many boys came out of the town, and exhibited quite an interesting scene as they recognized Yakúb (Mr. Richardson), who had visited this place on his former journey. Many people came out to see us, some offering us their welcome, others remaining indifferent spectators.

Thus we reached the new plantation of Háj Ahmed, the Governor, as he is called, of Ghát, and found, at the entrance of the outbuilding, which had been destined for our use, the principal men of the town, who received us with great kindness and politeness. The most interesting among them was Háj Ahmed himself, a man of grave and dignified manners, who, although a stranger to the place, and a native of Tawát, has succeeded, through his address and his mercantile prosperity, in obtaining for himself here an almost princely position, and has founded in reality a new town, with large and splendid improvements, by the side of the old city. His situation as Governor of Ghát, in reference, and in some degree in opposition, to the Tuarek chiefs, is a very peculiar one, and requires, on his part, a good deal of address, patience, and forbearance. I am convinced that when we first arrived he did not view us with displeasure, but, on the contrary, was greatly pleased to receive under his roof a mission of Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, with whose immense influence and power, and the noble purpose of whose policy, he was not entirely unacquainted; but his extraordinary and precarious situation did not allow him to act freely, and besides I cannot say that he received from us so warm an acknowledgment as his conduct in the first instance seemed to deserve.

Besides him, the chief parties in our first conversation were his nephew Ahmed Mohammed Sheríf (the man who came to meet us), a clever but forward lad, of pleasant manners—whom in the course of my travels I met several times in Sudán—and Mohammed Káfa, a cheerful, good-humoured man. Our quarters, of which the accompanying woodcut gives the ground-plan, were certainly neither airy nor agreeable, but the hot sand wind which blew without made them appear to us quite tolerable.

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There can be no doubt that even Fezzán, in ancient times, had a population entirely different from that dwelling near the coast; but the original black inhabitants of that country have been swept away, or mixed up entirely with the Arabs, who seem to have invaded this country not earlier than the fifteenth century of our era, for in Makrizi’s time Fezzán was still a Berber country. But few names now remain which evidently bespeak a Central African origin, such as those terminating in awa, as Tasáwa or Tessáwa (a town already mentioned by Edrísi), Portukawa, and others. But in the country of Ghát, which we have now entered, the case is very different; for here the former state of things has not been so entirely altered as not to leave some unmistakable testimonies behind it.

All the original population of North Africa appear to have been a race of the Semitic stock, who, by intermarriage with tribes which came from Egypt, or by way of it, had received a certain admixture. The consequence was that several distinct tribes were produced, designated by the ancients as Libyans, Moors, Numidians, Libyphœnicians, Getulians, and others, and traced by the native historians to two different families, the Beránes and the Abtar, who, however, diverge from one common source, Mazigh or Madaghs. The native widespread African race, either from the name of their supposed ancestor, Ber, which we recognize in the name Afer, or in consequence of the Roman term barbari, has been generally called Berber, and in some regions Shawi and Shelluh. The general character and language of these people seem to have been the same, while the complexion alone was the distinguishing point of difference.

How far southward the settlements of this North African race originally extended, it is difficult to say; but it may be gathered, even from ancient writers, that they did not extend to the very border of the naked desert, and that they were bounded on the south by a region occupied by Æthiopian races,—an observation which is confirmed by the present state of things. Wárgela evidently belonged originally to the dominion of the Blacks, as well as Tawát. The Berbers seem in general to have kept within their borders till driven from their native seats by the Arabs; for they had been mildly treated by the former conquerors of the country (the Phœnicians, the Romans, Vandals, and Byzantines), and they appear even to have partly embraced Christianity.

In the central part of Barbary the flight of the Berbers seems to have been connected with that numerous immigration of Arab families into North Africa which took place in the first half of the eleventh century, in the time and at the instigation of Ahmed ben ʿAli el Jerjeráni, who died in A.H. 436, or 1044-5 of our era. The fugitives pushed forward in several great divisions, which it is not essential here to enumerate, as, with a few exceptions, they have become extinct. It seems only necessary to advert here to the fact that of all the reports handed down to us by the ancient Arab historians and geographers respecting the different Berber nations existing in the desert, the name of Tarki, or Tuarek, by which they are at present generally designated, occurs only in Ebn Khaldún, under the form Tarká or Táriká; and after him Leo Africanus is the first who, in mentioning the five great tribes, names one of them Terga. This name, which has been given to the Berber inhabitants of the desert, and which Hodgson erroneously supposed to mean “tribe,” is quite foreign to them. The truly indigenous name by which these people call themselves is the same by which they were already known to the Greeks and Romans, and which was given to their ancestors by Ebn Khaldún and other Arabic writers, viz. Amázigh, Mázigh, Mazix, Masix, Mazys, Mazax, and even Maxitanus in the singular form. The general form now used in these regions is Amóshagh in the singular, Imóshagh in the plural, and Temáshight in the neutral form. This is the native name by which the so-called Tawárek designate their whole nation, which is divided into several great families. And if the reader inquires who gave them the other name, I answer, with full confidence, the Arabs; and the reason why they called them so was probably from their having left or abandoned their religion, from the verb “tereku dínihum;” for, from evidence which I have collected elsewhere, it seems clear that a great part of the Berbers of the desert were once Christians (they are still called by some Arabs “the Christians of the desert”), and that they afterwards changed their religion and adopted Islam; notwithstanding which they still call God “Mesí,” and an angel “anyelús,” and have preserved many curious customs which bear testimony to their ancient creed.

The tribe which now possesses the country, the Imóshagh or Tuarek of Ghát, are generally called Azkár or Azgar; but they are named also Hogár or Hágara, though the latter name is very often employed to denote another tribe. Upon this point, also, we have received full and credible information from Ebn Khaldún, who tells us that the name Hogár was formed from that of Hauwára, and served to designate that section of the great Berber tribe which had retired into the desert about Gógó; and it is very remarkable that the Hogár were described just about the same time, in those same regions, by the traveller Ebn Batúta. Hogár therefore seems to be the more general name, while Azkár serves to designate a section of this tribe. However, this name also appears to be an ancient one, being mentioned already by Edrísi (A.H. 453) as the name of a tribe evidently identical with that of which we are speaking, the settlements of which he indicates as being distant twelve days’ journey from Tasáwa, and eighteen from Ghadámes. It is mentioned about a century later by Ebn Sʿaid as dwelling in the same place. The Tinýlkum Ibrahim was of opinion that Azkár means that section of the Hogár who had remained (at some period unknown to us) “faithful to the established authority.” But this interpretation of the name, if we consider the early period at which it occurs, does not seem quite probable, and I suspect that those may be right who give to the name a more general meaning.

At present the Azkár form but a small part of the population of the country which they rule, namely, the region enclosed between the desert bordered by Wady Talíya in the east, the valleys Zerzúwa and Áfara in the west, the well of Asïu towards the south, and Nijbertín towards the north, and are not able to furnish more than about five hundred armed men. In fact, they form a warlike aristocracy of five families, divided into thirty divisions or fayas, each of which has an independent chief. The names of the five families are Urághen, Ímanang, Ífogas, Hadánarang, and Manghássatang. The Urághen or Aurághen, meaning the “Yellows,” or “golden” (in colour), who seemed to have once formed a very powerful family, and have given their name to one of the principal dialects of the Tarkíye or Temáshight, are at present much dispersed, many of them living among the Awelímmiden, on the northern shore of the Isa or Niger, where I shall have more to say about them. Even among the Azkár they still form the most important division, and count at least a hundred and fifty full-grown men. A large body of them is settled in and about the valley of Arikím, on the direct road from Múrzuk to Sudán, and about fifty miles to the south of Ghát. Their original abode is said to have been at a place called Asáwa, to the south of Irálghawen. But the tribe that formerly possessed the greatest authority, and which on this account is still called Amanókalen, or the Sultan tribe, is that of the Ímanang, who are at present reduced to extreme poverty, and to a very small number, said not even to reach ten families. But they have still a very large number of Imghád under their command. Their women are celebrated for their beauty. They are most of them settled in the valley of Díder. The third division of the Azkár, to which Hatíta, the friend of the English, belongs, are the Manghássatang, or Imaghássaten, whose leather tents are generally pitched in the valley of Zerzúwa, on the road from Ghát to Tawát, about six days’ journey from the former.

The three clans, or “Tiyúsi,” which I have mentioned, constitute at present, strictly speaking, the family of the Azkár, the other two divisions, viz. the Ífogas and the Hadánarang, having separated from the rest, and broken in some way the national bond which formerly united them with the others. One of them, the Ífogas, are scattered over the whole desert, some having settled among the Kél-owí at a place called Tórit, on the road to Damerghú; another section dwells in the more favoured valleys to the east of Mabrúk; while a small portion of this tribe remains in the territory of the Azkár, where they have their abode in the valley of Áfara, about half-way between Ghát and Tawát. The second of these tribes, viz. the Hadánarang, is settled in a place called Ádemar, not far from the southern frontier of the territory of the Azkár, in the midst of the Imghád. They are, to some extent at least, migratory freebooters; and to them belonged those robbers who, soon after we had fortunately got out of their clutches, murdered two Tébu merchants on the road from Aïr to Ghát, carrying away their whole caravan, with no less than thirty-three slaves.

I was assured by Hatíta that there were not less than thirty subdivisions of the larger clans, called “faya,” in Temáshight; but I could only ascertain the names of four of them; viz. the Izóban and the Okéren, living in the Wady Irárarén, and probably belonging to one and the same family (I believe the Ímanang); the Degárrab, probably a section of the Hadánarang, living in a place called Tárat, together with some Imghád; and finally the Ihiyáwen or Ihéwan, a portion of whom dwell in Titarsén, while another section has settled near Tasáwa in Fezzán, forming the last link of the chain which connects the Imghád and the Azkár. Another link is formed by the Makéresang, who, like the former, submit to the authority of the chief Nakhnúkhen; then follows the Ifélelen, who are settled in Tasíl with the Imghád. The least degenerate of these half-caste tribes, who hold a middle place between the Imóshagh and the Imghád, or between the free and the servile, is said to be the section of the Mateghílelen, now settled in the Wady el Gharbi, in Fezzán, while their kindred certainly belong to the Imghád. This is the best proof that the name Ámghi does not express national descent, but social condition. Another section or tribe loosely connected with the Azkár, but not regarded as noble, although as strict ascetics they are much respected, and are enabled to carry on almost undisturbed the commerce between Fezzán and Negroland, are the Tinýlkum, of whom I have already had occasion to speak repeatedly. At present they are settled partly in the valley Tigger-odé, where their chief the Háj ʿAli resides, partly in Wady el Gharbi and around Tasáwa; but their ancient seats were to the south of Ghát, and even in the town of Ghát itself, they having been called in to decide the quarrel between the former inhabitants of that place, the Kél-tellek and the Makamúmmasen.

As I said above, the ruling class of the Azkár constitutes by far the smaller part of the population of the country, while the great mass of the population of these regions consists of a subject or degraded tribe called Imghád, or, in the Arabic form, Merátha, or even Metáthra. This I formerly considered to be a Gentile name; but I found afterwards that it is a general epithet, used by all the different tribes of the Imóshagh to denote degraded tribes. The singular form of the name is Ámghi, which is the counterpart of Amóshagh, as it means “servile,” while the latter means “free.” The Imghád of the Azkár differ a great deal from the ruling tribe, particularly the women; for while the Imóshagh are tolerably fair, a great many of the former are almost black, but nevertheless well made, and not only without negro features, but generally with a very regular physiognomy, while the women, at least in their forms, approach more to the type of the negro races. But as for their language, I must confess that I am not able to decide with confidence whether it sprang originally from a Berber dialect or the Háusa language:[7] many of the people, indeed, seem to be bilingual; but by far the greater part of the men do not even understand the Háusa language. I am persuaded that they were originally Berbers who have become degraded by intermixture with the black natives.

The Imghád of the Azkár, who altogether form a numerous body, being able to furnish about five thousand armed men, are divided into four sections—the Batánatang or Ibétnaten, the Fárkana or Aférkenén, Segígatang, and Wárwaren, which latter name, I think, very naturally calls to mind the Latin “Barbari,” a name which, according to some ancient authors, belonged to certain tribes of Northern Africa, and may fairly explain the origin of the name Berber, though it is to be remarked that “war,” a syllable with which a great number of Berber names begin, seems to signify “man.” Of these four divisions the last three seem to live principally in and around the small town of Bárakat, a few miles south of Ghát, and in and around Jánet or Yánet, about thirty miles south-south-west from Égeri. Neither the population of the town of Ghát nor that of the town of Bárakat is at present formed by these Imghád; but I should suppose that in former times they were also the privileged inhabitants of Ghát itself, which at present is occupied by a very mixed race, so well described by the late Mr. Richardson. These two favoured spots of the desert seem to be left entirely to these people as tenants, on condition that they take care of the plantations and of the gardens, and gather the fruit, of which they are bound to give a portion to their masters. Some of the noble Imóshagh, indeed, seem to have a great many of these people at their disposal. The Batánatang or Ibétnaten reside principally in a valley called Tesíli, while another section of them have their abode amongst the Hogár, in a district called Tehellahóhet, on the road from Asïu to Tawát. A portion of the last tribe (viz. the Fárkana or Aférkenén) dwell in a valley called Tárat, about a day’s journey north-west from Nghákeli.

Besides these four great divisions, there are many other sections of the Imghád. The names of these, as far as they became known to me, are as follows: the Dik-Surki, settled in the territory of the Azkár, in a place called Édehi; the Kél-n-tunín, living in Aderár; the Amatghílelen, who have their abode in the same spot; the Kél-áhenet, living in Hágara; the Akeshemáden, in the valley called Atúl; the Íkelan, who have their dwelling-places in Zerzer; the Kélghafsa, in Ífak; the Kél-ífis, in Temághaset; and finally, the Ijrán.

The ruling race of the Imóshagh subsist entirely on the labour of this depressed class, but still more upon the tribute or gheráma which, as I mentioned above, they raise from the caravans—a custom already mentioned by Leo Africanus. Without some such revenue they could not trick themselves out so well as they do, though when at home in their “tekábber” they live at a very little expense, particularly as they are not polygamists. The Imghád are not allowed to carry an iron spear nor to wear a sword, which is the distinction of the free man, nor any very showy dress. Most of them may be regarded as settled, or as “Kél,” that is to say as the constant, or at least as the ordinary, inhabitants of a given place; and this indeed, it seems, is even to be said of a great many of the Azkár themselves, who seem to hold a middle place between the nomadic and the settled tribes. The consequence is that many of them do not live in leather tents, or “éhe,” but in round conical huts called tekábber, made of bushes and dry grass.

The town of Ghát (the favoured locality of which might be presumed to have attracted a settlement at a very early age) is not mentioned by any Arabic author except the traveller Ebn Batúta, in the fourteenth century, and seems never to have been a large place. Even now it is a small town of about two hundred and fifty houses, but nevertheless of considerable commercial importance, which would become infinitely greater if the jealousy of the Tawáti would allow the opening of the direct road from Timbúktu, which seems to be under the special protection of the powerful chief Gemáma.

The view from the rocky hill which reaches its greatest elevation just over the town, and, together with a cistern, offers a few Berber and Arabic inscriptions to the curious traveller, proved far less extensive and picturesque than that from a sand-hill a little distance westward from the house of Háj Ahmed. I ascended this little hill in the afternoon of the 22nd, and, screened by an ethel-bush, sketched the whole oasis—the separate strips of palm-trees, the wide desolate valley, bordered by the steep slope of the Akakús-range, with its regular strata of marly slate and its pinnacled crest of sandstone; the little town on the left, at the foot of the rocky hill, contrasting with the few and frail huts of palm-branches scattered about here and there; the noble and spacious mansion of the industrious Háj Ahmed in the foreground, on the northern side of which was the flat dwelling assigned to us. When descending from this hill towards the south, I was greatly pleased with the new improvements added by Háj Ahmed to his plantation. The example of this man shows how much may be achieved by a little industry in these favoured spots, where cultivation might be infinitely increased. In the southernmost and most recent part of the plantation a large basin, about 100 feet long and 60 feet broad, had been formed, receiving a full supply of water from the northern side of the sand-hills, and irrigating kitchen-gardens of considerable extent. Thus the wealthy Governor makes some advance every year; but, unfortunately, he seems not to find many imitators.

Our negotiation with the Tuarek chiefs might have been conducted with more success if a letter written by Her Majesty’s Government to the chief Jabúr had not been produced at the very moment when all the chiefs present were ready to subscribe the treaty. But their attention was entirely distracted from the object in view. This letter made direct mention of the abolition of the slave-trade; hence it became a very difficult and delicate matter, especially as Mr. Richardson’s supplies of merchandise and presents at that moment were entirely in the hands of the merchant Háj Ibrahim, who, even if liberal enough to abstain from intrigue against admitting the competition of English merchants, would be sure to do all in his power to prevent the abolition of the slave-trade.

It was a serious undertaking to enter into direct negotiation with these Tuarek chiefs, the absolute masters of several of the most important routes to Central Africa. It required great skill, entire confidence, and no inconsiderable amount of means, of which we were extremely deficient. To this vexation let there be added the petulant and indiscreet behaviour of our servants, who were exasperated by the sufferings of the Rámadán during the hottest season of the year, and were too well aware of the insufficiency of our means to carry out the objects of our mission, and the reader will easily understand that we were extremely glad when, after repeated delays, we were at length able to leave this place in the pursuance of our journey.

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On the morning of the 26th of July I once more found myself on the back of my camel, and from my elevated seat threw a last glance over the pleasant picture of the oasis of Ghát. There is an advanced spur of the plantation about two miles south from the town, called Timéggawé, with a few scattered cottages at its southern end. Having left this behind us, we came to the considerable plantation of Íberké, separated into two groups, one on the west, and the other on the east side, and kept along the border of the western group, which forms dense clusters, while that to the east is rather thin and loosely scattered. The town of Bárakat, lying at the foot of a sandy eminence stretching north and south, became now and then visible on our right, glittering through the thinner parts of the plantation.

Being prepared for a good day’s march, as not only the Tinýlkum were reported to have left Arikím several days ago, but as even the little caravan of Kél-owí, with whom we had made arrangements for protection and company on the road, was a considerable way in advance, we were greatly astonished when ordered to encamp near the scattered palm-trees at the extreme eastern end of the plantation. Utaeti, who had accompanied us all the way from Ghát on foot, chose the camping-ground. Mr. Richardson, who had been behind, was not less astonished when he found us encamped at so early an hour. But our camels, which seemed to have been worked during our stay at Ghát, instead of being allowed to recover their strength by rest and pasture, were in great want of some good feeding, and there was much aghúl (Hedysarum Alhajji) about our encampment. Towards noon we were visited by several Hogár, or rather Azkár, who proved a little troublesome, but not so much so as the townspeople, who caused us a great deal of annoyance, both during the evening and on the following morning, and gave us some idea of what might await us further on.

Being annoyed at our delay here, I accompanied two of Mr. Richardson’s people and the young son of Yusuf Mukni, who wished to go into the town to buy a fowl. We were followed by two men from among the townspeople, who wanted to extort a present from me, and one of whom, by bawling out the characteristic phrase of his creed, made me fear lest he might succeed in exciting all the people against me. The town was distant from our encampment a mile and a quarter; and having once reached its wall, I determined to enter it. The town, or ágherim, forms a tolerably regular quadrangle, on an open piece of ground at the eastern foot of the sandy eminence, and is enclosed by a wall (agadór), built of clay, about five-and-twenty feet high, and provided with quadrangular towers. We entered it by the eastern gate, which, being defended by a tower, has its entrance from the side, and leads first to a small court with a well, from which another arched passage leads into the streets. Here several women, of good figure and decently dressed, were seated tranquilly, as it seemed, enjoying the cool air of the afternoon, for they had no occupation, nor were they selling anything. Although I was dressed in a common blue Sudán shirt, and tolerably sunburnt, my fairer complexion seemed to alarm them, and some of them withdrew into the interior of the houses crying “Lá ilah.” Still I was not molested nor insulted by the people passing by, and I was pleased that several of them courteously answered my salute. They were apparently not of pure Berber blood. It appeared that a good many of the inhabitants had gone to their date-groves to look after the harvest, as the fruit was just about to ripen; hence the place, though in good repair and very clean, had a rather solitary appearance. There is no commerce in this place as in Ghát, the whole wealth of the inhabitants consisting in their plantations. Yet they are said to be better off than the population of Ghát, who are exposed to great and continual extortions from the Tuarek on account of their origin, while the people of Bárakat enjoy certain privileges. The houses were all two or three storeys high, and well built, the clay being nicely polished. A few palm-trees decorate the interior of the town. It is of still more diminutive size than Ghát, containing about two hundred houses; but it is built with great regularity. Having stuck fast awhile in a lane which had no thoroughfare, we at length got safely out of the little town of Bárakat by the south gate. It has, I believe, four gates, like Ghát. On this side of the town, inside of the walls, stands the mosque, a building of considerable size for so small a place, neatly whitewashed, and provided with a lofty minaret.

Leaving the town, we took a more southern and circuitous road than that by which we had come, so that I saw a good deal of the plantation. The soil is for the most part impregnated with salt, and the wells have generally brackish water. There was much industry to be seen, and most of the gardens were well kept; but the wells might easily be more numerous, and only a small quantity of corn is cultivated. The great extent to which dukhn, or Guinea corn (“éneli” in Temáshight), or Pennisetum typhoïdeum, is cultivated here, as well as near Ghát, in proportion to wheat or barley, seems to indicate the closer and more intimate connection of this region with Negroland. Some culinary vegetables also were cultivated, and some, but not many, of the gardens were carefully fenced with the leaves of the palm-tree. The grove was animated by numbers of wild pigeons and turtle-doves, bending the branches of the palm-trees with their wanton play; and a good many asses were to be seen. Cattle I did not observe.

But far more interesting were the scenes of human life that met my eyes. Happiness seemed to reign, with every necessary comfort, in this delightful little grove. There was a great number of cottages, or tekábber, built of palm-branches and palm-leaves, most of them of considerable size, and containing several apartments; all of them had flat roofs. They are inhabited by the Imghád, or Merátha. A great many of the men seemed at present to be busy elsewhere; but these lightly built, straggling suburbs were full of children, and almost every woman carried an infant at her back. They were all black, but well formed, and infinitely superior to the mixed race of Fezzán. The men wore in general blue shirts, and a black shawl round the face; the women were only dressed in the túrkedi, or Sudán-cloth, wound round their body, and leaving the upper part, including the breasts, uncovered. They understood generally nothing but Temáshight, and only a few of them spoke the Háusa language. The men were nearly all smoking.

Having returned to our tent from this pleasant ramble, I did not stay long in it, but stealing off as secretly as possible, I walked to the eastern side of the valley, which is here locked up by the steep slope of the Akakús range. The plain on this side, being much interrupted by hills crowned with ethel-trees, does not afford a distant prospect. In this quarter, too, there are a few scattered gardens, with melons and vegetables, but no palm-trees.

In the evening we were greatly annoyed by some Imghád, and between one of them and our fiery and inconsiderate Tunisian shushán a violent dispute arose, which threatened to assume a very serious character. We were on the watch the whole night.

Having waited a long time for Utaeti, we at length started without him, passing on our right a beautiful palm-grove, with as many as ten thousand trees, while our left was bordered by scattered gardens, where the people were busy, in the cool of the morning, irrigating the corn and vegetables, with the assistance of Sudán oxen. They came out to see us pass by, but without expressing any feeling, hostile or otherwise. After a mile and a half the plantation ceased, at the bed of a torrent which contained a pond of rain-water collected from the higher rocky ground, which here terminates. Further on we passed another small channel, overgrown with bushes, and remarkable for nothing but its name, which seems plainly to indicate that this country originally belonged to the Góber or Háusa nation, for it is still called Korámma, a word which in the Háusa language denotes the bed of a torrent. To this watercourse particularly the general designation was most probably assigned, because in its further progress it widens very considerably, and in some degree appears as the head of the green bottom of the Valley of Ghát.

But a more luxuriant valley, from three to four miles broad, begins further on, rich in herbage, and full of ethel-trees, all crowning the tops of small mounds. Here we encamped, near a pond of dirty rain-water, frequented by great flocks of doves and waterfowl, and a well called Ízayen, in order to wait for Utaeti. The well was only about three feet deep, but the water brackish and disagreeable. Our friend came at length, and it was then decided to march during the night, in order to reach the Kél-owí; we therefore left our pleasant camping-ground about half-past nine in the evening, favoured by splendid moonlight. So interesting was the scene that, absorbed in my thoughts, I got considerably in advance of the caravan, and, not observing a small path which turned off on the right, I followed the larger one till I became conscious of my solitary situation, and, dismounting, lay down in order to await my companions. Our caravan, however, had taken the other path, and my fellow-travellers grew rather anxious about me; but my camel, which was evidently aware of the caravan ahead of us, would not give up this direction, which proved to be the right one, and after I had joined the caravan we were obliged to return to my former path.

Here we found the small Kél-owí caravan encamped in the midst of a valley well covered with herbage, near the well Karáda. Our new companions were perfect specimens of the mixed Berber and Sudán blood, and, notwithstanding all their faults, most useful as guides. It was two hours after midnight when we arrived, and after a short repose we started again tolerably early the next morning. For the first hour we kept along the valley, when we began to ascend a narrow path winding round the slope of a steep promontory of the plateau. The ruins of a castle at the bottom of the valley formed an object of attraction. The ascent took us almost an hour, when the defile opened to a sort of plateau, with higher ground and cones to the left. After another ascent four miles further on, over a rocky slope about 180 feet high and covered with sand, we encamped at an early hour, as the heat was beginning to be felt, in a valley with sidr-trees and grass, called Erázar-n-Ákeru.

A large basin of water, formed by the rains in a small rocky lateral glen joining the large valley on the west side, afforded a delightful resting-place to the weary traveller. The basin, in which the negro slaves of our Kél-owí swam about with immense delight, was about 200 feet long and 120 feet broad, and very deep, having been hollowed out in the rocks by the violent floods descending occasionally from the heights above. But on a terrace about 200 feet higher up the cliffs I discovered another basin, of not more than about half the diameter of the former, but likewise of great depth. All along the rocky slope between these two basins, cascades are formed during heavy rains, which must render this a delightfully refreshing spot.

We soon emerged from the valley, and entered a district of very irregular character, but affording herbage enough for temporary settlements or encampments of the Imghád, whose asses and goats testified that the country was not quite uninhabited. Some people of our caravan saw the guardians of these animals—negroes, clad in leather aprons. Against the lower part of the cliffs, which rise abruptly on all sides, large masses of sand have accumulated, which, as in the case of the upper valley of the Nile, might induce the observer to believe that all the higher level was covered with sand, which from thence had been driven down; but this is not by any means the case.

I had a long conversation this morning with the Tawáti ʿAbd el Káder, who had come with the pilgrim-caravan as far as Ghát, and, together with another companion, had attached himself to the Kél-owí, in order to go to Ágades. He was a smart fellow, of light complexion and handsome countenance, but had lost one eye in a quarrel. He was armed with a long gun with a good English lock, of which he was very proud. He had, when young, seen the Raïs (Major Laing) at Tawát, and knew something about Europeans, and chiefly Englishmen. Smart and active as this fellow was, he was so ungallant as to oblige his young female slave, who was at once his mistress, cook, and servant, to walk the whole day on foot, while he generally rode. A little after noon we encamped in the corner of a valley rich in sebót, and adorned with some talha-trees, at the foot of cliffs of considerable height, which were to be ascended the following day.

We began our task early in the morning. The path, winding along through loose blocks on a precipitous ascent, proved very difficult. Several loads were thrown off the camels, and the boat several times came into collision with the rocks, which, but for its excellent material, might have damaged it considerably. The whole of the cliffs consisted of red sandstone, which was now and then interrupted by clay slate, of a greenish colour. The ascent took us almost two hours, and from the level of the plateau we obtained a view of the ridge stretching towards Arikím, the passage of which was said to be still more difficult. Having successively ascended and descended a little, we then entered a tolerably regular valley, and followed its windings till about noon, when we once more emerged upon the rugged rocky level, where Amankay, the well-travelled búzu or mulatto of Tasáwa, brought us a draught of deliciously cool water, which he had found in a hollow in the rocks. Here our route meandered in a very remarkable way, so that I could not lay aside my compass for a moment; and the path was sometimes reduced to a narrow crevice between curiously terraced buttresses of rocks.

The ground having at length become more open, we encamped about a quarter past three o’clock, in a small ravine with a little sprinkling of herbage.

Here we had reached an elevation of not less than four thousand feet above the sea, the greatest elevation of the desert to be passed, or rather of that part of Africa over which our travels extended. The rugged and bristling nature of this elevated tract prevented our obtaining any extensive views. This region, if it were not the wildest and most rugged of the whole desert, limiting vegetation to only a few narrow crevices and valleys, would be a very healthy and agreeable abode for man; but it can only support a few nomadic stragglers. This, I am convinced, is the famous mountain Tántanah, the abode of the Azkár mentioned by the early Arabic geographers, although, instead of placing it to the south-west of Fezzán, they generally give it a southerly direction. I am not aware that a general name is now given to this region.

But this highest part of the tableland rather forms a narrow “col” or crest, from which, on the following morning, after a winding march of a little more than three miles, we began to descend by a most picturesque passage into a deeper region. At first we saw nothing but high cones towering over a hollow in the ground; but as we advanced along a lateral wady of the valley which we had entered, the scenery assumed a grander aspect, exhibiting features of such variety as we had not expected to find in this desert country. While our camels began slowly to descend, one by one, the difficult passage, I sat down and made the accompanying sketch of it, which will convey a better idea of this abrupt cessation of the high sandstone level, with the sloping strata of marl where it is succeeded by another formation, that of granite, than any verbal description would do.

The descent took us two hours, when we reached the bottom of a narrow ravine about sixty feet broad, which at first was strewn with large blocks carried down by occasional floods, but a little further on had a floor of fine sand and gravel. Here the valley is joined by a branch wady, or another ravine, coming from the north. Near the junction it is tolerably wide; but a few hundred yards further on it narrows between steep precipitous cliffs, looking almost like walls erected by the hand of man, and more than a thousand feet high, and forms there a pond of rain-water. While I was sketching this remarkable place, I lost the opportunity of climbing up the wild ravine. The locality was so interesting that I reluctantly took leave of it, fully intending to return the following day, with the camels, when they were to be watered; but, unfortunately, the alarming news which reached us at our camping-ground prevented my doing so. I will only observe that this valley, which is generally called Égeri, is identical with the celebrated valley Amaïs or Maïs, the name of which became known in Europe many years ago.

A little beyond the junction of the branch ravine the valley widens to about one hundred and fifty feet, and becomes overgrown with herbage, and ornamented with a few talha-trees, and after being joined by another ravine, exhibits also colocynths, and low but widespreading ethel-bushes, and, what was more interesting to us, the ʿashur (or, as the Háusa people call it, “tunfáfia,” the Kanori “krunka,” the Tuarek “tursha”), the celebrated, widespread, and most important Asclepias gigantea, which had here truly gigantic proportions, reaching to the height of twenty feet; and being just then in flower, with its white and violet colours it contributed much to the interest of the scene. Besides, there was the jadaríyeh, well known to us from the Hammáda, and the shiʿa or Artemisia odoratissima, and a blue crucifera identical, I think, with the damankádda, of which I shall have to speak repeatedly. Having gone on a little more than three miles from the watering-place, we encamped; and the whole expedition found ample room under the widespreading branches of a single ethel-tree, the largest we had yet seen. Here the valley was about half a mile broad, and altogether had a very pleasant character.

I was greatly mortified on reflecting that the uncertainty of our relations in the country, and the precarious protection we enjoyed, would not allow me to visit Jánet, the most favoured spot in this mountainous region; but a great danger was suddenly announced to us, which threatened even to drive us from that attractive spot. An expedition had been prepared against us by the mighty chieftain Sídi Jáfel ínek (son of) Sakertáf, to whom a great number of the Imghád settled thereabouts are subject as bondmen or serfs.

Upon the circumstances of this announcement and its consequences I shall not dwell, but will only observe that this transaction made us better acquainted with the character of each of our new friends. There were three principal men in the Kél-owí caravan with which we had associated our fortunes—Ánnur (or properly Eʾ Núr), Dídi, and Fárreji. Ánnur was a relative of the powerful Kél-owí chief of the same name, and, in order to distinguish him from the latter, was generally called Ánnur karamí, or the little Ánnur. He was of agreeable, prepossessing countenance, and of pleasing manners, but without much energy, and anything but warlike. Dídi and Fárreji were both liberated slaves, but of very different appearance and character. The former was slim, with marked features, indicating a good deal of cunning; the latter was a tolerably large man, with broad, coarse features, which well expressed his character, the distinguishing trait of which was undisguised malice. When a new demand was to be put forth Fárreji took the lead, and, with an impudent air, plainly state the case; Dídi kept back, assisting his companion underhand; and Ánnur was anxious to give to the whole a better appearance and to soothe our indignation.

The whole affair having been arranged, and the stipulation being made that in case the direct road should become impracticable our Kél-owí were to lead us by a more eastern one, where we should not meet with any one, we started in good spirits on the morning of the 1st of August, and soon emerged from the valley by a southern branch, while the surrounding cliffs gradually became much lower and flatter. Here we observed that granite had superseded the sandstone, appearing first in low, bristled ridges, crossing the bottom of the valley in parallel lines running from west-north-west to east-south-east, and gradually accompanying the whole district, while the sand, which before formed the general substance of the lower ground, was succeeded by gravel. Our path now wound through irregular defiles and small plains, enclosed by low ridges of granite blocks, generally bare, but in some places adorned with talha-trees of fine fresh foliage. The whole country assumed quite a different aspect.

Our day’s journey was pleasantly varied by our meeting with the van of a large caravan belonging to the wealthy Fezzáni merchant Khweldi, which had separated in Aïr on account of the high prices of provisions there. They carried with them from forty to fifty slaves, most of them females, the greater part tolerably well made. Each of our Kél-owí produced from his provision-bags a measure of dates, and threw them into a cloth, which the leader of the caravan, a man of grave and honest countenance, had spread on the ground. A little before noon, we encamped in a sort of wide but shallow valley called Ejénjer, where, owing to the junction of several smaller branch vales collecting the moisture of a large district, a little sprinkling of herbage was produced, and a necessary halting-place formed for the caravans coming from the north, before they enter upon the naked desert, which stretches out towards the south-west for several days’ journey. The camels were left grazing the whole night, in order to pick up as large a provision as possible from the scanty pasture.

August 2.—We entered upon the first regular day’s march since we left Ghát. After a stretch of nine miles, an interesting peak called Mount Tiska, rising to an elevation of about six hundred feet, and surrounded by some smaller cones, formed the conspicuous limit of the rocky ridges. The country became entirely flat and level, but with a gradual ascent, the whole ground being formed of coarse gravel; and there was nothing to interrupt the monotonous plain but a steep ridge, called Mariaw, at the distance of about five miles to the east.

The nature of this desert region is well understood by the nomadic Tuarek or Imóshagh, who regard the Mariaw as the landmark of the open, uninterrupted desert plain, the “ténere;” and a remarkable song of theirs, which often raised the enthusiasm of our companions, begins thus: “Mariaw da ténere nís” (We have reached Mariaw and the desert plain). The aspect of this uninterrupted plain seemed to inspire our companions, and with renewed energy we pursued our dreary path till after sunset, when we encamped upon this bare gravelly plain, entirely destitute of herbage, and without the smallest fragment of wood for fuel; and I was glad to get a cup of tea with my cold supper of zummíta. Even in these hot regions the European requires some warm food or beverage.

The next morning, all the people being eager to get away from this dreary spot, every small party started as it got ready, without waiting for the rest, in order to reach as soon as possible the region of the sand-hills, which we saw before us at the distance of a little more than five miles, and which promised to the famished camels at least a slight repast. Herbage was scattered in bunches all about the sides of the sand-hills, and a number of butter- and dragon-flies greatly relieved the dreary scene. After a while the sand-hills ranged themselves more on both sides, while our road led over harder sandy soil, till the highest range crossed our path, and we began to ascend it, winding along its lower parts. Granite, lying a few feet under the surface, in several spots chequered the sand, tinged with a pretty blue.

A little after mid-day we emerged from the sand-hills, and entered a plain from two to three miles wide, bounded on both sides by sand-hills, and were here gratified with the view of shifting lakes which the mirage set before our eyes. Then followed another narrow range of sand-hills, succeeded by a barren open plain, and then another very considerable bank of sand, leaning on a granite ridge. After a steep ascent of forty-five minutes, we reached the highest crest, and obtained an extensive prospect over the country before us—a desert plain, interspersed by smaller sand-hills and naked ledges of rock, and speckled with ethel-bushes half overwhelmed by sand, at the foot of a higher range of sand-hills. For sand-hills are the landmark of Afalésselez, and the verse of the desert song celebrating Mariaw as the landmark of the open gravelly desert plain is succeeded by another, celebrating the arrival at Afalésselez and its sand-hills: “In-Afalésselez da jéde nís.” Having long looked down from this barbacan of sand, to see whether all was safe near that important place whence we were to take our supply for the next stretch of dry desert land, we descended along the south-western slope, and there encamped.

After a march of little more than four miles the next morning, we reached the well Falésselez, or Afalésselez. This camping-ground had not a bit of shade, for the few ethel-bushes, all of them starting forth from mounds of not less than forty feet elevation, were very low, and almost covered with sand. Besides, the gravelly ground was covered with camels’ dung and impurities of a more disagreeable nature, and there was not a bit of herbage in the neighbourhood, so that the camels, after having been watered, had to be driven to a distance of more than eight miles, where they remained during the night and the following day till noon, and whence they brought back a supply of herbage for the next night.

But, notwithstanding its extraordinary dreariness, this place is of the greatest importance for the caravan trade, on account of the well, which affords a good supply of very tolerable water. At first it was very dirty and discoloured, but it gradually became clearer and had but little after-taste. The well was five fathoms deep, and not more than a foot and a half wide at the top, while lower down it widened considerably. It is formed of the wood of the ethel-tree. The temperature of the water, giving very nearly the mean temperature of the atmosphere in this region, was 77°.

After the camels had gone, our encampment became very lonely and desolate, and nothing was heard but the sound of ghussub-pounding. The Kél-owí had encamped at some distance, on the slope of the sand-hills. It was a very sultry day, the hottest day in this first part of our journey, the thermometer, in the very best shade which we were able to obtain, showing 111·2° heat, which, combined with the dreary monotony of the place, was quite exhausting. There was not a breath of air in the morning; nevertheless it was just here that we remarked the first signs of our approaching the tropical regions, for in the afternoon the sky became so thickly overcast with clouds that we entertained the hope of being refreshed by a few drops of rain. In the night a heavy gale blew from the east.

Next day came Utaeti. On his fine méheri, enveloped as he was in his blue Sudán-cloth, he made a good figure. The reply which he made, when Mr. Richardson asked him how his father had received the present of the sword which H.B.M.’s Government had sent him, was characteristic: the sword, he said, was a small present, and his father had expected to receive a considerable sum of money into the bargain. He informed us also that, by our not coming to Arikím, we had greatly disappointed the Tuarek settled thereabouts.

Tuesday, August 6.—The sand-hills which we ascended after starting were not very high, but after a while we had to make another ascent. Sometimes small ridges of quartzose sandstone, setting right across our path, at others ethel-bushes, gave a little variety to the waste, and at the distance of about eight miles from the well singularly shaped conical mounts began to rise. The eastern road, which is a little more circuitous, is but a few hours’ distance from this; it leads through a valley at the foot of a high conical mount, with temporary ponds of rain-water, and herbage called Shambakésa, which about noon we passed at some distance on our left. In the afternoon we came in sight of a continuous range of heights ahead of us. The whole region exhibited an interesting intermixture of granite and sandstone formation, white and red sandstone protruding in several places, and the ground being strewn with fragments of granite and gneiss. Passing at one time over gravel, at another over rocky ground strewn with pebbles, we encamped at length in a sort of shallow valley called Taghárebén, on the north side of a very remarkable mass of curiously shaped sandstone blocks, heaped together in the most singular manner, and rising altogether to a height of about one hundred and fifty feet. On inspecting it more closely, I found that it consisted of four distinct buttresses, between which large masses of loose sand had collected, the sandstone being of a beautiful white colour, and in a state of the utmost disintegration.

After a weary day’s march, the camping-ground, adorned as it was with some fine talha-trees, and surrounded with small ridges and detached masses of rock, on which now depended the beauty of the scene, cheered our minds, and fitted us for another long day’s work. Soon after we started the ground became rugged and stony, and full of ridges of sandstone, bristling with small points and peaks. In this wild and rugged ground our people amused themselves and us with hunting down a lizard, which tried to escape from the hands of its pursuers in the crevices of the rocky buttresses. Then followed broad, shallow valleys, at times overgrown with a little herbage, but generally very barren; winding along them we turned round a larger cluster of heights which seemed to obstruct our route. Bare and desolate as the country appears, it is covered, as well as the whole centre of the desert, with large herds of wild oxen (Antilope bubalis), which rove about at large, and, according as they are more or less hunted, linger in favoured districts or change their haunts. Our men tried to catch them, but were unsuccessful, the animal, clumsy and sluggish as it appears, climbing the rocks with much more ease than men unaccustomed to this sort of sport, and, owing to the ruggedness of the ground, being soon lost sight of.

At five o’clock in the afternoon the heights on our left rose to a greater elevation, as much as a thousand feet, bristling with cones, and formed more picturesque masses. Resting on the spurs of the mountain range was a peculiar knot of cliffs, ridges of rocks, and isolated perpendicular pillars, through which our road led with a gradual ascent till we reached the highest ground, and then descended into a shallow valley furnished with a tolerable supply of herbage and a few talha-trees, some of which, with their young leaves, soon attracted the attention of the famished camels. The poor animals were left grazing all night, which recruited their strength a little. These long stretches were fatiguing both for man and beast, and they were the more trying for the traveller as, instead of approaching by them in long strides the wished-for regions to the south, there was scarcely any advance at all in that direction, the whole route leading to the west.

Thursday, August 8.—After a mile and a half’s march the country became more open and free, and those ridges of granite rock which had been characteristic of the region just passed over ceased; but ahead of us considerable mountain masses were seen, the whole mountainous district, in which the long range called Isétteti is conspicuous, being named Ánahef. After a march of about ten miles, a path branched off from our road towards the west, leading to a more favoured place, called Tádent, where the moisture collected by the mountain masses around seems to produce a richer vegetation, so that it is the constant residence of some Azkár families; it is distant from this place about sixteen miles. Here some advanced heights approach the path, and more talha-trees appear; and further on the bottom of the fiumara was richly overgrown with bú rékkebah (Avena Forskalii), grass very much liked by the camels, and which we had not observed before on our route. The country ahead of us formed a sort of defile, into which I thought we should soon enter, when suddenly, behind the spur of a ridge projecting into the plain on our left, we changed our direction, and entering a wide valley enclosed by two picturesque ranges of rock, we there encamped.

The valley is called Nghákeli, and is remarkable as well on account of its picturesque appearance as because it indicates the approach to a more favoured region. Besides being richly overgrown with luxuriant herbage of different species, as sebót, bú rékkebah, shiʿa, and adorned with fine talha-trees, it exhibited the first specimens of the Balanites Ægyptiaca (or “hajilíj” as it is called by the Arabs, “áddwa” by the Háusa people), the rope-like roots of which, loosened by the torrent which at times sweeps along the valley, grew to an immense length over the ground. I walked up the valley to a distance of two miles. Compared with the arid country we had been travelling over latterly, it made upon me just the same impression which the finest spots of Italy would produce on a traveller visiting them from the north of Europe. The Kél-owí had chosen the most shady talha-tree for a few hours’ repose, and I sat down a moment in their company. They gave me a treat of their palatable fura, or ghussub-water, the favourite (and in a great many cases the only) dish of the Absenáwa.

In the evening Mr. Richardson bought from some sportsmen a quantity of the meat of the wadán, or (as the Tuarek call it) aúdád (Ovis tragelaphos), an animal very common in the mountainous districts of the desert, and very often found in company with the wild ox. As for myself, I kept my tent, filling up from my memorandum-book my last day’s journal, and then, full of the expectation that we were now about to enter more pleasant regions, lay down on my hard couch.

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Friday, August 9.—There had been much talk about our starting at midnight; but, fortunately, we did not get off before daylight, so that I was able to continue my exact observations of the route, which was now to cross the defile observed yesterday afternoon, which already began to impart quite a characteristic aspect to the country. There were some beautifully shaped cones rising around it, while beyond them an uneven tract stretched out, crowded with small elevations, which gradually rose to greater height; among them one peak, of very considerable elevation, was distinguished by its graceful form, and seemed worthy of a sketch. Attached to it was a lower rocky range, with a very marked horizontal crest, while running parallel to our path were small ledges of gneiss. After a march of seven miles and a half, we ascended a considerable range of rugged eminences, from the crest of which we followed a steep descent into an uneven rocky tract intersected by several shallow beds of torrents; and then, just as the heat began, we reached the valley of Arókam, where we encamped at about half an hour’s distance from the well, and opposite to a branch wady through which lay our next day’s route. In the afternoon I climbed the highest of the cones rising above the cliffs, but without obtaining any distant prospect.

Saturday, August 10.—The active buzu Amankay, who early in the morning went once more to the well in order to fill a few water-skins, brought the news that a considerable caravan, consisting chiefly of Aníslimen or Merabetín from Tintaghodé, had arrived at the well the evening before, on their road to Ghát, and that they protested against our visiting their country, and still more against our approaching their town. Notwithstanding the bad disposition of these people towards us, I managed to induce one of them, who visited our encampment, to take charge of letters addressed by me to Háj Ibrahim, in Ghát, which I am glad to say arrived safely in Europe. Amankay reported to us that on his way to the well he had observed a small palm-tree.

We started rather late in the morning, entering the branch wady, which proved to be far more considerable than it seemed, and rich in talha-trees. In this way we kept winding along several valleys, till, after a march of three miles, we ascended and crossed a very interesting defile, or a slip in the line of elevation, bordered on both sides by a terraced and indented slope, the highest peaks of the ridge rising to not less than a thousand feet, while their general elevation was about six hundred feet. Mr. Overweg recognized this as gneiss. Close beyond this defile, at the foot of mounds of disintegrated granite, we encamped, to our great astonishment, a little after eight o’clock in the morning; but the reason of this short march was that our companions, on account of the arrival of the caravan above mentioned, did not choose to stop at our former encampment, else they would have rested there to-day. In the afternoon a high wind arose, which upset our tent.

Sunday, August 11.—After a march of little more than two miles over an irregular tract of granite, in a state of great disintegration, intersected by crests of gneiss, we obtained from a higher level an interesting view over the whole region, and saw that beyond the hilly ground of broken granite a large plain of firm gravelly soil spread out, surrounded by a circle of higher mounts. Then followed a succession of flat, shallow valleys, overgrown with sebót- and talha-trees, till the ridges on the right and left (the latter rising to about eight hundred feet) approached each other, forming a sort of wider passage or defile. The spur of the range to the left, with its strongly marked and indented crest, formed quite an interesting feature.

Beyond this passage we entered a bare gravelly plain, from which rose a few detached mounts, followed by more continuous ranges, forming more or less regular valleys. The most remarkable of these is the valley Aséttere, which in its upper course, where it is called Ákafa, is supplied by the famous well Tajétterat; but as we were sufficiently supplied with water from Arókam, and as the well Aïsalen was near, we left it on one side.

We encamped at length in a valley joined by several branch vales, and therefore affording a good supply of herbage, which the Kél-owí were anxious to collect as a supply for the journey over the entirely bare tract to Asïu. As for ourselves, one of our servants being utterly unfit for work, we could not lay in a supply. We had been rather unfortunate with this fellow; for having hired him in Múrzuk, he was laid up with the guinea-worm from the very day that we left Ghát, and was scarcely of any use at all. This disease is extremely frequent among people travelling along this route; Amankay also was suffering from it, and at times became quite a burden. It attacked James Bruce even after his return to Europe; and I always dreaded it more than any other disease, during my travels in Central Africa; but, fortunately, by getting a less serious one, which I may call sore legs, I got rid of the causes which, I am sure, when acting in a stronger degree, produce the vena.

About sunset I ascended the eastern cliffs, which are very considerable, and from the highest peak, which rose to an elevation of more than twelve hundred feet above the bottom of the valley, obtained an extensive view. The whole formation consists of granite, and its kindred forms of mica, quartz, and felspar. The bottom of the valley bore evident traces of a small torrent which seems to refresh the soil occasionally, and the same was the case with several small ravines which descend from the south-eastern cliffs.

Monday, August 12.—Our route followed the windings of the valley, which, further on, exhibited more ethel- than talha-trees, besides detached specimens of the Asclepias. After a march of four miles and a half, we came to two wells about four feet deep, and took in a small supply of water. The granite formation at the foot of the cliffs on our left was most beautiful, looking very like syenite. While we were taking in the water, flocks of wildfowl (Pterocles) were flying over our heads, and expressed by repeated cries their dissatisfaction at our disturbing their solitary retreat. The ethel, the talha, and the áddwa, or abórak, enliven these secluded valleys.

Delighted by the report of Amankay, who came to meet us, that he had succeeded in detaining the caravan of the Tinýlkum at Aïsala, where they were waiting for us, we cheerfully continued our march; but before we reached the place the whole character of the country changed, the cliffs being craggy and split into huge blocks heaped upon each other in a truly Cyclopean style, such as only Nature can execute, while the entire hollow was covered with granite masses, scarcely allowing a passage. Descending these, we got sight of the encampment of the caravan, in a widening of the hollow; and after paying our compliments to all the members of this motley band, we encamped a little beyond, in a recess of the western cliffs.

The Tinýlkum as well as Bóro Serki-n-turáwa were very scantily provided. They had lost so much time on the road on our account that it was necessary, as well as just, to leave them part of the provisions which they were carrying for us. All our luggage we found in the best state. Very much against their will, our companions had been supplied on the road with the flesh of nine camels, which had succumbed to the fatigues of the march; and some of them, and especially our energetic friend Háj ʿOmar, had obtained a tolerable supply by hunting: besides wadáns, they had killed also several gazelles, though we had scarcely seen any.

They had been lingering in this place four days, and were most anxious to go on. But we had a great deal to do, for all our luggage was to be repacked, all the water-skins to be filled, and herbage and wood to be collected for the road. Besides Ibrahim, who was lame and useless, Overweg and myself had only two servants, one of whom (Mohammed, the liberated Tunisian slave) was at times a most insolent rascal.

Besides, we were pestered by the Kél-owí and by Utaeti, and I got into a violent dispute with Fárreji, the shameless freed-slave of Lusu; still I managed on the morning of the following day to rove about a little. Just above the well rises a confused mass of large granite blocks, the lowest range of which was covered with Tefínagh inscriptions, one of which I copied. It was written with uncommon accuracy and neatness, and if found near the coast would be generally taken for Punic. I was obliged to be cautious, as there was a great deal of excitement and irritation in the caravan, and from what had previously taken place all the way from Múrzuk, everybody regarded us as the general purveyors, and cherished the ardent hope that at last it would be his good fortune, individually, to get possession of our property.

In the afternoon the Tinýlkum started in advance, and we followed them, the hollow gradually widening and becoming clothed with large knots of low ethel-bushes. At the point where this valley joins another, and where a large quantity of herbage bedecked the ground, we found our friends encamped, and chose our ground a little beyond them, near a low cliff of granite rocks. All the people were busily employed cutting herbage for the journey, while Mr. Richardson at length succeeded in satisfying Utaeti, who was to return. He had been begging most importunately from me, and by way of acknowledging my obligations to him I presented him, on parting, with a piece of white muslin and a red sash, together with something for Hatíta.

These parties were scarcely quieted when others took their place, urging their pretensions to our acknowledgments; and we had just started the next day when Bóro Serki-n-turáwa despatched, underhand, my smart friend the Tawáti ʿAbd el Káder, with full instructions to give me a lecture on his boundless power and influence in the country which we were fast approaching. I was aware of this before, and knew that, in our situation as unprotected travellers in a new country, we ought to have secured his friendly disposition from the beginning; but the means of our expedition being rather limited, Mr. Richardson had made it a principle never to give till compelled by the utmost necessity, when the friendly obligation connected with the present was, if not destroyed, at least greatly diminished.

The structure of the valley soon became irregular, and the character of the country more desolate, a circumstance which seems to be expressed by its name, Ikadémmelrang. All was granite, in a state of the utmost disintegration, and partly reduced to gravel, while detached cones were rising in all directions. Marching along over this dreary and desolate country, we reached, at half-past two in the afternoon, after a gradual and almost imperceptible ascent, the highest level of the desert plain, from whence the isolated rocky cones and ridges look like so many islands rising from the sea. A sketch which I made of one of these mounts will give an idea of their character.

After a march of twelve hours and a half, which I would have gladly doubled, provided our steps had been directed in a straight line towards the longed-for regions of Negroland, we encamped on hard ground, so that we had great difficulty in fixing the pegs of our tents. The sky was overcast with thick clouds, but our hopes in a refreshing rain were disappointed.

Thursday, August 15.—The character of the country continued the same, though the weather was so foggy that the heights at some distance were quite enveloped, and became entirely invisible. This was a sure indication of our approaching tropical climes. After a march of three miles and a half, the ground became more rugged for a short time, but was soon succeeded by a gravelly plain. The sky had become thickly clouded, and in the afternoon a high wind arose, succeeded, about two o’clock, by heavy rain, and by distant thunder, while the atmosphere was exceedingly heavy, and made us all feel drowsy.

It was three o’clock when we arrived at the Marárraba, the “halfway” between Ghát and Aïr, a place regarded with a kind of religious awe by the natives, who in passing place each a stone upon the mighty granite blocks which mark the spot. To our left we had irregular rocky ground, with a few elevations rising to greater height, and ahead a very remarkable granite crest, sometimes rising, at others descending, with its slopes enveloped in sand up to the very top. This ridge, which is called Giféngwetáng, and which looks very much like an artificial wall erected between the dry desert and the more favoured region of the tropics, we crossed further on through an opening like a saddle, and among sand-hills where the slaves of our companions ran about to pick up and collect the few tufts of herbage that were scattered over the surface, in order to furnish a fresh mouthful to the poor wearied animals. At four o’clock the sand-hills ceased, and were succeeded by a wide pebbly plain, on which, after six miles travelling, we encamped. Our encampment was by no means a quiet one, and to any one who paid due attention to the character and disposition of the people serious indications of a storm, which was gathering over us, became visible. Mohammed Bóro, who had so often given vent to his feelings of revenge for the neglect with which he had been treated, was all fire and fury, and stirring up the whole encampment, he summoned all the people to a council, having, as he said, received intelligence that a large party of Hogár were coming to Asïu. Not having paid much attention to the report about Sídi Jáfel’s expedition, I became anxious when made aware of the man’s fury, for I knew the motives which actuated him.

Friday, August 16.—We started early. Gravelly and pebbly grounds succeeded each other, the principal formation being granite; but when, after a march of about thirteen miles, we passed the narrow sandy spur of a considerable ridge approaching our left, a fine species of white marble became visible. We then passed a rugged district, of peculiar and desolate appearance, called Ibéllakang, and crossed a ridge of gneiss covered with gravel. Here, while a thunder-storm was rising in the east, our caravan, to our great regret, divided, the Tinylkum turning off towards the east, in order, as we were told, to look for a little herbage among the sand-hills. Meanwhile thick, heavy clouds, which had been discharging a great quantity of rain towards the east, broke over us at a quarter past four o’clock in the afternoon, when we were just in the act of crossing another rocky crest covered with gravel. A violent sand-storm, followed by heavy rain, which was driven along by a furious gale, soon threw the caravan into the utmost confusion, and made all observation impossible; but fortunately it did not last long. It was on descending from this crest, while the weather cleared up, that the Háusa slaves, with a feeling of pride and joy, pointed out in the far distance “dútsi-n-Absen” (Mount Absen). Here the granite formation had been gradually succeeded by sandstone and slate. This district, indeed, seems to be the line of demarcation between two different zones.

At twenty minutes past six o’clock we at length encamped, but were again in the saddle at eleven o’clock at night, and in pale moonlight, sleepy and worn out as we were, began a dreadful night’s march. But altogether it proved to be a wise measure taken by the Kél-owí, who had reason to be afraid lest the Hogár, of whom they appeared to have trustworthy news, might overtake us before we reached the wells of Asïu, and then treat us as they pleased. Our companions, who were of course themselves not quite insensible to fatigue, as night advanced, became very uncertain in their direction, and kept much too far to the south. When day dawned our road lay over a flat, rocky, sandstone surface, while we passed on our left a locality remarkable for nothing but its name, Efínagha. We then descended from the rocky ground into the extremely shallow valley of Asïu, overgrown with scanty herbage of a kind not much liked by the camels. Here we encamped, near a group of four wells, which still belong to the Azkár, while a little further on there are others which the Kél-owí regard as their own property. How it was that we did not encamp near the latter I cannot say. But the people were glad to have got so far. The wells, or at least two of them, afforded an abundant supply of water; but it was not of a good quality, and had a peculiar taste, I think on account of the iron ore with which it was impregnated.

This, then, was Asïu, a place important for the caravan trade at all times, on account of the routes from Ghadámes and from Tawát joining here, and which did so even as far back as the time when the famous traveller Ebn Batúta returned from his enterprising journey to Sudán homewards by way of Tawát (in the year 1353-4). Desolate and melancholy as it appeared, it was also an important station to us, as we thought that we had now left the most difficult part of the journey behind us. For though I myself had some forebodings of a danger threatening us, we had no idea that the difficulties which we should have to encounter were incomparably greater than those which we had passed through. Mr. Richardson supposed that because we had reached the imaginary frontier of the territories of the Azkár and Kél-owí, we were beyond the reach of any attack from the north. With the utmost obstinacy he reprobated as absurd any supposition that such a frontier might be easily crossed by nomadic roving tribes, asserting that these frontiers in the desert were respected much more scrupulously than any frontier of Austria, notwithstanding the innumerable host of its land-waiters. But he was soon to be undeceived on all the points of his desert diplomacy, at his own expense and that of us all.

There was very little attraction for roving about in this broad gravelly plain. Now and then a group of granite blocks interrupted the monotonous level, bordered on the north by a gradually ascending rocky ground, while the southern border rose to a somewhat higher elevation.

Desolate as the spot was, and gloomy as were our prospects, the arrival of the Tinýlkum in the course of the afternoon afforded a very cheerful sight, and inspired some confidence, as we felt that our little party had once more resumed its strength. All the people, however, displayed an outward show of tranquillity and security, with the exception of Serki-n-turáwa, who was bustling about in a state of the utmost excitement. Watering the camels and filling the water-skins employed the whole day.

Sunday, August 18.—After a two hours’ march we began to ascend, first gradually, then more steeply, all the rocks hereabouts, consisting of slate, greatly split and rent, and covered with sand. In twenty-five minutes we reached the higher level, which consisted of pebbly ground, with a ridge running, at the distance of about four miles, to the west.

While we were quietly pursuing our road, with the Kél-owí in the van, the Tinýlkum marching in the rear, suddenly Mohammed the Sfaksi came running behind us, swinging his musket over his head, and crying lustily, “He awelád, awelád bú, ʿadúna já!” (“Lads, lads, our enemy has come!”), and spreading the utmost alarm through the whole of the caravan. Everybody seized his arms, whether musket, spear, sword, or bow, and whosoever was riding jumped down from his camel. Some time elapsed before it was possible, amid the noise and uproar, to learn the cause of the alarm. At length it transpired. A man named Mohammed, belonging to the caravan, having remained a little behind at the well, had observed three Tuarek, mounted on mehára, approaching at a rapid rate; and while he himself followed the caravan, he left his slave behind to see whether others were in the rear. The slave, after a while, overtook him, with the news that several more camels had become visible in the distance; and then Mohammed and his slave hurried on to bring us the intelligence. Even Mr. Richardson, who, being rather hard of hearing, judged of our situation only from the alarm, descended from his slender little she-camel and cocked his pistols. A warlike spirit seemed to have taken possession of the whole caravan, and I am persuaded that had we been attacked at this moment, all would have fought valiantly. But such is not the custom of freebooting parties; they will cling artfully to a caravan, and first introduce themselves in a tranquil and peaceable way, till they have succeeded in disturbing the little unity which exists in such a troop, composed as it is of the most different elements; they then gradually throw off the mask, and in general attain their object.

When at length a little tranquillity had been restored, and plenty of powder and shot had been distributed among those armed with firelocks, the opinion began to prevail that, even if the whole of the report should be true, it was not probable that we should be attacked by daylight. We therefore continued our march with a greater feeling of security, while a body of archers was despatched to learn the news of a small caravan which was coming from Sudán, and marching at some distance from us, behind a low ridge of rocks. They were a few Tébu, with ten camels and between thirty and forty slaves, unconsciously going to meet a terrible fate; for we afterwards learned that the Imghád of the Hogár, or rather the Hadánara, disappointed at our having passed through their country without their getting anything from us, had attacked this little troop, murdering the Tébu, and carrying off their camels and slaves.

While the caravan was going slowly on, I was enabled to allow my méheri a little feeding on the nesí (Panicum grossularium, much liked by camels), in a spot called Tahasása. At noon we began to ascend on rocky ground, and, after a very gradual ascent of three miles, reached the higher level, strewn with pebbles, but exhibiting further on a rugged slaty soil, till we reached the valley Fénorang. This valley, which is a little less than a mile in breadth and two in length, is famous for its rich supply of herbage, principally of the kind called bú rékkebah, and the far-famed el hád (the camel’s dainty), and is on this account an important halting-place for the caravans coming from the north, after having traversed that naked part of the desert, which produces scarcely any food for the camel. Notwithstanding, therefore, the danger which threatened us, it was determined to remain here not only this, but also the following day.

As soon as the loads were taken off their backs, the half-starved camels fell to devouring eagerly the fine herbage offered them. Meanwhile we encamped as close together as possible, preparing ourselves for the worst, and looking anxiously around in every direction. But nobody was to be seen till the evening, when the three men on their mehára made their appearance, and, being allowed to approach the caravan, made no secret of the fact that a greater number were behind them.

Aware of what might happen, our small troop had all their arms ready, in order to repulse any attack; but the Kél-owí and the few Azkár who were in our caravan kept us back, and, after a little talk, allowed the visitors to lie down for the night near our encampment, and even solicited our hospitality in their behalf. Nevertheless, all of them well knew that the strangers were freebooters, who could not but have bad designs against us; and the experienced old Awed el Khér, the sheikh of the Káfila, came expressly to us, warning and begging us to be on our guard, while Bóro Serki-n-turáwa began to play a conspicuous part, addressing the Kél-owí and Tinýlkum in a formal speech, and exhorting them to stand by us. Everybody was crying for powder, and nobody could get enough. Our clever but occasionally very troublesome servant Mohammed conceived a strategical plan, placing on the north side of the two tents the four pieces of the boat, behind each of which one of us had to take his station in case of an attack.

Having had some experience of freebooters’ practices in my former wanderings, I knew that all this was mere farce and mockery, and that the only way of ensuring our safety would have been to prevent these scouts from approaching us at all. We kept watch the whole night; and of course the strangers, seeing us well on our guard, and the whole caravan still in high spirits and in unity, ventured upon nothing.

Monday, August 19.—In the morning our three guests (who, as I made out, did not belong to the Azkár, but were Kél-fadé from the northern districts of Aïr) went slowly away, but only to join their companions, who had kept at some distance beyond the rocky ridge which bordered or, rather, interrupted the valley to the westward. There some individuals of the caravan, who went to cut herbage, found the fresh traces of nine camels. In spite of outward tranquillity, there was much matter for anxiety and much restlessness in the caravan, and suddenly an alarm was given that the camels had been stolen, but fortunately it proved to be unfounded. ʿAbd el Káder, the Tawáti of whom I have spoken above, trying to take advantage of this state of things, came to Mr. Overweg, and urgently pressed him to deposit everything of value with Awed el Khér, the Kél-owí, and something, “of course,” with him also. This was truly very disinterested advice; for if anything had happened to us, they would of course have become our heirs. In the evening we had again three guests, not, however, the same as before, but some of their companions, who belonged to the Hadánara, one of the divisions of the Azkár.

Tuesday, August 20.—At an early hour we started, with an uneasy feeling. With the first dawn the true believers had been called together to prayer, and the bond which united the Mohammedan members of the caravan with the Christian travellers had been loosened in a very conspicuous manner. Then the encampment broke up, and we set out—not, however, as we had been accustomed to go latterly, every little party starting off as soon as they were ready, but all waiting till the whole caravan had loaded their camels, when we began our march in close order, first along the valley, then entering upon higher ground, sometimes gravelly, at others rocky. The range to our right, here a little more than a mile distant, bears different names, corresponding to the more prominent parts into which it is separated by hollows or saddles, the last cone towards the south being called Timázkaren, a name most probably connected with that of the Azkár tribe, while another is named Tin-dúrdu-rang. The Tarki or Amóshagh is very expressive in names; and whenever the meaning of all these appellations shall be brought to light, I am sure we shall find many interesting significations. Though I paid a good deal of attention to their language, the Tarkíyeh or Temáshight, I had not leisure enough to become master of the more difficult and obsolete terms; and, of course, very few even among themselves can at present tell the exact meaning of a name derived from ancient times.

At length we had left behind us that remarkable ridge, and entering another shallow valley full of young herbage, followed its windings, the whole presenting a very irregular structure, when suddenly four men were seen ahead of us on an eminence, and instantly a troop of lightly armed people, amongst them three archers, were despatched, as it seemed, in order to reconnoitre, marching in regular order straight for the eminence.

Being in the first line of our caravan, and not feeling so sure on the camel as on foot, I dismounted, and marched forward, leading my méheri by the nose-cord, and with my eyes fixed upon the scene before us. But how much was I surprised when I saw two of the four unknown individuals executing a wild sort of armed dance together with the Kél-owí, while the others were sitting quietly on the ground! Much perplexed, I continued to move slowly on, when two of the men who had danced suddenly rushed upon me, and grasping the rope of my camel, asked for tribute. Quite unprepared for such a scene under such circumstances, I grasped my pistol, when, just at the right time, I learnt the reason and character of this curious proceeding.

The little eminence on the top of which we had observed the people, and at the foot of which the armed dance was performed, is an important locality in the modern history of the country which we had reached. For here it was that when the Kél-owí (at that time an unmixed and pure Berber tribe, as it seems) took possession of the country of Old Góber, with its capital, Tin-shamán, a compromise or covenant was entered into between the red conquerors and the black natives, that the latter should not be destroyed, and that the principal chief of the Kel-owí should only be allowed to marry a black woman. And as a memorial of this transaction, the custom has been preserved that when caravans pass the spot where the covenant was entered into, near the little rock Máket-n-ikelán, “the slaves” shall be merry and be authorized to levy upon their masters a small tribute. The black man who stopped me was the “serki-n-baï” (the principal or chief of the slaves).

These poor, merry creatures, while the caravan was proceeding on its march, executed another dance; and the whole would have been an incident of the utmost interest, if our minds and those of all the well-disposed members of the caravan had not been greatly oppressed and vexed with sad forebodings of mishap. The fear was so great that the amiable and sociable Slimán (one of the Tinýlkum, who at a later period manifested his sympathy with us in our misfortunes) begged me most urgently to keep more in the middle of the caravan, as he was afraid that one of those ruffians might suddenly rush upon me, and pierce me with his spear.

The soil hereabouts consisted entirely of bare gravel; but farther on it became more uneven, and broken by granite rocks, in the cavities among which our people found some rain-water. The tract on our right was called Tisgáwade, while the heights on our left bore the name Tin-ébbeke. I here rode awhile by the side of Émeli, a Tarki of the tribe of the Azkár, a gentleman both in his dress and manners, who never descended from the back of his camel. Although he appeared not to be very hostile to the robbers on our track, and was certainly aware of their intention, I liked him on account of his distinguished manners, and, under more favourable circumstances, should have been able to obtain a great deal of information from him. But there was with him a rather disagreeable and malicious fellow named Mohammed (or, as the Tuarek pronounce it, Mokhammed), from Yánet or Jánet, who, in the course of the difficulties which befell us, did us a great deal of mischief, and was fully disposed to do us much more.

The country, which in the meantime had become more open, after a while became bordered ahead by elevations in the form of a semicircle, while we began to ascend. The weather had been extremely sultry and close the whole day, and at last, about three o’clock in the afternoon, the storm broke out, but with less violence than on the day before our arrival at Asïu. We encamped at length on an open gravelly plain, surrounded by ridges of rocks, without pitching our tents; for our unwished-for guests had in the face of the Tinýlkum openly declared that their design was to kill us, but that they wanted first to get more assistance. Notwithstanding this, Mr. Richardson even to-night was obliged to feed these ruffians; such is the weakness of a caravan—although in our case the difference of religion, and consequent want of unity, could not but greatly contribute to paralyze its strength. I here heard that some of the party were Imghád, from Tádomat. Under such circumstances, and in such a state of feeling, it was impossible to enjoy the sport and frolics of the slaves (that is, of the domestic slaves) of the Kél-owí, who with wild gestures and cries were running about the encampment to exact from all the free individuals of the caravan their little Máket-n-ikelán tribute, receiving from one a small quantity of dates, from another a piece of muslin or a knife, from another a shirt. Everybody was obliged to give something, however small. Notwithstanding our long day’s march, Overweg and I found it necessary to be on the watch the whole night.

Wednesday, August 21.—Starting at an early hour, we ascended very rugged ground, the rocky ridges on both sides often meeting together and forming irregular defiles. After a march of five miles and a half, we reached the highest elevation, and obtained a view over the whole district, which, being sprinkled, as it were, with small granitic mounds, had a very desolate appearance; but in the distance to our left an interesting mountain group was to be seen, of which the accompanying sketch will give some idea.

Having crossed several small valleys, we reached, a little before ten o’clock, one of considerable breadth, richly overgrown with herbage, and exhibiting evident traces of a violent torrent which had swept over it the day before, while with us but little rain had fallen. It is called Jínninau, and improved as we advanced, our path sometimes keeping along it, sometimes receding to a little distance; in some places the growth of the trees, principally the Balanites or abórak, was indeed splendid and luxuriant. Unfortunately we had not sufficient leisure and mental ease to collect all the information which, under more favourable circumstances, would have been within our reach. Thus, I learnt that magnetic ironstone was found in the mountains to our left. After noon the valley divided into three branches, the easternmost of which is the finest and richest in vegetation, while the western one, called Tiyút, has likewise a fine supply of trees and herbage; we took the middle one, and a little further on, where it grew narrower, encamped.

It was a very pretty and picturesque camping-ground. At the foot of our tents was a rocky bed of a deep and winding torrent, bordered by most luxuriant talha- and abórak-trees (Balanites Ægyptiaca), and forming a small pond where the water, rushing down from the rocks behind, had collected; the fresh green of the trees, enlivened by recent rains, formed a beautiful contrast with the dark-yellowish colour of the rocks behind. Notwithstanding our perilous situation, I could not help straying about, and found, on the blocks over the tebki or pond, some coarse rock-sculptures representing oxen, asses, and a very tall animal which, according to the Kél-owí, was intended to represent the giraffe.

While I was enjoying the scenery of the place, Dídi stepped suddenly behind me, and tried to throw me down, but not succeeding, laid his hands from behind upon the pistols which I wore in my belt, trying, by way of experiment, whether I was able to use them notwithstanding his grasp; but turning sharply round, I freed myself from his hold, and told him that no effeminate person like himself should take me. He was a cunning and insidious fellow, and I trusted him the least of our Kél-owí friends. Ánnur warned us that the freebooters intended to carry off the camels that we ourselves were riding, in the night; and it was fortunate that we had provided for the emergency, and were able to fasten them to strong iron rings.

While keeping the first watch during the night, I was enabled by the splendid moonlight to address a few lines in pencil to my friends at home.

Thursday, August 22.—The Kél-owí having had some difficulty in finding their camels, we did not move at an early hour. To our great astonishment, we crossed the rocky bed of the torrent, and entered an irregular defile, where a little further on we passed another pond of rain-water. When at length we emerged from the rocks, we reached a very high level, whence we had a clear prospect over the country before us. Four considerable ranges of mountains were clearly distinguishable in the distance, forming an ensemble of which the accompanying sketch will give an idea. We then entered valleys clothed with a fine fresh verdure sprinkled with flowers, and with a luxuriant vegetation such as we had not seen before. The senna-plant (Cassia senna) appeared in tolerable quantity. Mountains and peaks were seen all around, in a great variety of forms; and at twenty minutes past nine we had a larger mountain mass on one side, from which a dry watercourse, marked by a broad line of herbage issued and crossed our route.

Having here allowed our camels a little feeding, we entered upon gravelly soil with projecting blocks of granite, and then went on ascending through a succession of small plains and valleys, till we reached Erazar-n-Gébi, among the splendid vegetation of which we first observed the abísga, or Capparis sodata, called siwák or lirák by the Arabs, an important bush, the currant-like fruit of which is not only eaten fresh, but also dried, and laid up in store, while the root affords that excellent remedy for the teeth which the Mohammedans, in imitation of their prophet, use to a great extent. The root, moreover, at least on the shores of the Tsád, by the process of burning, affords a substitute for salt. It is the most characteristic bush or tree of the whole region of transition between the desert and the fertile regions of Central Africa, between the twentieth and the fifteenth degree of northern latitude; and in the course of my travels I saw it nowhere of such size as on the northern bank of the Isa or Niger, between Timbúktu and Gágho, the whole ground which this once splendid and rich capital of the Songhay Empire occupied being at present covered and marked out by this celebrated bush. As for the camels, they like very well to feed for a short time upon its fresh leaves, if they have some other herb to mix with it; but eaten alone it soon becomes too bitter for them. In this valley the little berries were not yet ripe; but further on they were ripening, and afforded a slight but refreshing addition to our food.

Leaving the pleasant valley of Gébi by a small opening bordered with large blocks of granite, while peaks of considerable elevation were seen towering over the nearer cliffs, we entered another large valley, called Tághajít, but not quite so rich in vegetation, and encamped here, on an open space, a little after noon. The valley is important as being the first in the frontier region of Aïr or Asben where there is a fixed settlement—a small village of leathern tents, inhabited by people of the tribe of Fade-ang, who preserve a certain independence of the Kél-owí, while they acknowledge the supremacy of the Sultan of Ágades, a state of things of which I shall have occasion to say more in another place.

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The sensations of our guides and camel-drivers had been uneasy from the very moment of our encamping; and Mr. Richardson, at the suggestion of Ánnur, had on the preceding day sent Émeli and Mohammed in advance, in order to bring to us the chief of Fade-ang. This person was represented to us as a man of great authority in this lawless country, and able to protect us against freebooting parties, which our guests of the other day, who had gone on in advance, were sure to collect against us. But Mohammed, as I have observed above, was a great rascal himself, who would do all in his power to increase our difficulties, in order to profit by the confusion. The chief was accordingly reported as being absent, and a man who was said to be his brother was to take his place. This person made his appearance, accompanied by some people from the village; but it became immediately apparent that he had no authority whatever, and one of the Imghád of Tádomat, who had stuck to us for the last two days, in order to show us what respect he had for this man, struck him repeatedly with his spear upon the shoulder. Among the companions of our new protector was a Taleb of the name of Buhéda, distinguished by his talkativeness and a certain degree of arrogance, who made himself ridiculous by trying to convince us of his immense learning. What an enormous difference there was between these mean-looking and degraded half-castes and our martial pursuers, who stood close by! Though I knew the latter could and would do us much more harm than the former, I liked them much better.

Overweg and I had sat down in the shade of a talha-tree at a little distance from our tent, and had soon a whole circle of visitors around us, who in the beginning behaved with some modesty and discretion, but gradually became rather troublesome. I gave them some small presents, such as scissors, knives, mirrors, and needles, with which they expressed themselves well pleased. Presently came also several women, one with the characteristic features called in Temáshight “tebúllodén,” which may be translated by the words of Leo, “Le parti di dietro pienissime e grasse,” and another younger one, mounted upon a donkey. The whole character of these people appeared very degraded. They were totally devoid of the noble and manly appearance which the most careless observer cannot fail to admire even in a common Tarki freebooter, and the relations between the sexes appeared in a worse light than one would expect in such a situation as this. However, we have ample testimony in ancient Arabian writers that licentious manners have always prevailed among the Berber tribes on the frontier of the desert; and we found the same habits existing among the tribe of the Tagáma, while not only Ágades, but even the little village of Tintéllust was not without its courtesans. This is a very disheartening phenomenon to observe in so small a community, and in a locality where nature would seem peculiarly favourable to purity and simplicity of manners. The names of some of these Tághajít beauties—Telíttifók, Tatináta, and Temétilé—are interesting for the character of the language.

We were anxious to buy some of the famous Aïr cheese, for which we had been longing the whole way over the dreary desert, and had kept up our spirits with the prospect of soon indulging in this luxury; but we were not able to procure a single one, and our endeavours to buy a sheep or a goat were equally fruitless. Instead of the plenty which we had been led to expect in this country, we found nothing but misery. But I was rather surprised to find here a very fine and strong race of asses. We were tolerably composed, and reclining at our ease (though our weapons were always at hand), when we were a little alarmed by a demand of six riyals for the use of the pond in Jínninau. Our amiable but unenergetic friend Ánnur seconded the demand, by way of satisfying in some way the intruders upon our caravan. These claims were scarcely settled when a dreadful alarm was raised, by the report that a body of from fifty to sixty Mehára were about to attack us. Though no good authority could be named for this intelligence, the whole caravan was carried away by excitement, and all called out for powder and shot. Bóro Serki-n-turáwa once more delivered eloquent speeches, and exhorted the people to be courageous; but many of the Tinylkum, very naturally, had a great objection to come to open hostilities with the Tuarek, which might end in their being unable to travel any longer along this route.

In this moment of extreme excitement Khweldi arrived, the chief merchant of Múrzuk, whom we had not expected to see, though we knew that he was on his way from Sudán to the north. We were in a situation wherein he was able to render us the most material service, both by his influence upon the individuals of whom our caravan was composed, and by his knowledge of the country whose frontier territories we had just entered. But unfortunately, though a very experienced merchant, he was not a practical, sharp-sighted man; and instead of giving us clear information as to the probable amount of truth in the reports, and what sort of difficulties we might really have to encounter, and how by paying a sort of passage-money to the chiefs we might get over them, he denied in private the existence of any danger at all, while openly he went round the whole caravan extolling our importance as a mission sent by a powerful government, and encouraging the people to defend us if we should be in danger. In consequence of his exhortations, the Tinýlkum took courage, but had the imprudence and absurdity to supply also the three intruders with powder and shot, who, though protesting to be now our most sincere friends, of course made no other use of the present than to supply their band with this material, which alone gave us a degree of superiority and constituted our security.

Any one accustomed to look closely at things could not be at all satisfied with the spirit of our caravan, notwithstanding its noise and waste of powder, and with its entire want of union; but the scene which followed in the bright moonlight evening, and lasted throughout the night, was animating and interesting in the extreme. The whole caravan was drawn up in line of battle, the left wing being formed by ourselves and the detachment of the Kél-owí who had left their own camping-ground and posted themselves in front of our tent, while the Tinýlkum and the Sfaksi formed the centre, and the rest of the Kél-owí with Bóro, the right wing, leaning upon the cliffs, our exposed left being defended by the four pieces of the boat. About ten o’clock a small troop of Mehára appeared, when a heavy fusillade was kept up over their heads, and firing and shouting were continued the whole night.

Our situation remained the same the whole of the following day; and it became very tedious, as it prevented us from making excursions, and becoming acquainted with the features of the new country which we had entered. Another alarm having been raised in vain, the leaders of the expedition which was collecting against us came out, with the promise that they would not further molest the caravan if the Christians were given up to them. This demand having been at once rejected, we were left in tolerable tranquillity for a while, as the freebooters now saw that in order to obtain their object, which was plunder, they should be obliged to bring really into the field the whole force they had so long boasted of. Khweldi paid us another visit in the afternoon; and as he wanted to make us believe that there was really no danger in this country, so he did not fail to represent the state of things in Sudán as the most favourable we could have wished for. He also sought to sweeten over any remnant of anxiety which we might have, by a dish of very delicious dates which he had received from his friend Háj Beshír, in Iferwán, and which gave us a favourable idea of what the country before us was able to produce. Altogether Khweldi endeavoured to be agreeable to everybody; and on a later occasion, in 1854, when I was for some time without means, he behaved towards me in a very gentlemanlike manner. In his company was a brother of our quiet and faithful servant Mohammed, from Gatrón, who was now returning home with his earnings.

Not being able to refrain wholly from excursions, I undertook in the afternoon to visit the watering-place situated up a little lateral nook of the valley, adorned with very luxuriant talha-trees, and winding in a half-circle by south-east to north-east. First, at the distance of about a mile, I came to a hole where some of the Tinýlkum were scooping water; and ascending the rocky bed of the occasional torrent, I found a small pond where the camels were drinking; but our faithful friend Músa, who was not at all pleased with my having ventured so far, told me that the water obtained here did not keep long, but that higher up good water was to be found in the principal valley. I had from the beginning attentively observed the character and proceedings of Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, and feared nothing so much as his intrigues; and at my urgent request, Mr. Richardson to-night made him a satisfactory present as an acknowledgment of the courage which he had lately shown in defending our cause. Of course the present came rather late; but it was better to give it now, in order to avert the consequences of his intrigues as much as possible, than not at all. Had it been given two months ago, it might have saved us an immense deal of difficulty, danger, and heavy loss.

Saturday, August 24.—We left at length our camping-ground in Tághajít, and soon passed Khweldi’s encampment, which was just about to break up.

Rocky ground, overtopped by higher mountain-masses or by detached peaks, and hollows overgrown with rich vegetation, and preserving for a longer or shorter time the regular form of valleys, succeed by turns, and constitute the predominant feature of the country of Asben. But instead of the fresh green pasture which had delighted and cheered us in some of the northern valleys, the herbage in some of those which we passed to-day was quite dry.

Early in the afternoon we encamped in the valley Imenán, a little outside the line of herbage and trees, on an open spot at the southern foot of a low rocky eminence. The valley, overgrown as it was with large talha-trees and the oat-grass called bú rékkebah, of tall, luxuriant growth, was pleasant, and invited us to repose. But before sunset our tranquillity was greatly disturbed by the appearance of five of our well-known marauding companions, mounted on camels, and leading six others. They dismounted within less than a pistol-shot from our tents, and with wild ferocious laughter were discussing their projects with the Azkár in our caravan.

I could scarcely suppress a laugh when several of the Tinýlkum came and brought us the ironical assurance that there was now perfect security, and that we might indulge in sound sleep. Others came with the less agreeable but truer warning that we ought not to sleep that night. The greatest alarm and excitement soon spread through the caravan. Later in the evening, while our benevolent guests were devouring their supper, Mohammed el Túnsi called me and Overweg aside, and informed us that we were threatened with great danger indeed, these Hogár, as he called them, having brought a letter from Nakhnúkhen, authorizing them to collect people in the territory of the Kél-owí, and there to despatch us in such a way that not even a trace of us should be found, but not to touch us so long as we were within the confines of the Azkár.

I was convinced that this account, so far as it regarded Nakhnúkhen, was an absurd fiction of our persecutors; and I tried to persuade our servant to this effect. When he returned from us to the caravan, a council of war was held, and a resolution passed, that if a number of from twenty to thirty people came to attack us they would undertake to defend us, but if we should be threatened by a more numerous host they would try to make a compromise by yielding up a part of our goods. In consequence of this resolution, all possible warlike preparations were made once more, and Bóro delivered another speech; but it seemed rather irreconcilable with such a state of things that while we, as well as the Tinýlkum, brought all our camels close to our tents at an early hour, the Kél-owí left theirs out the whole night. Perhaps, being natives of the country, they did not expect that the freebooters would seize their animals.

Be this as it may, great anxiety arose when early in the morning it was found that the camels were gone; and when day broke our guests of last night, who had stolen away before midnight, were seen riding down from the rocky ridge on the south, and with a commanding air calling the principal men of the caravan to a council. Then followed the scenes which Mr. Richardson has so graphically described.

I will only mention that Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, sword in hand, led us on with great energy. He called me to keep close to him; and I think that now (when we had atoned for the neglect with which he had been treated by us, by assuring him that we were convinced of his high position and influence in the country) he had the honest intention to protect us. Of the Tinýlkum only our faithful Músa and the amiable young Slimán adhered to us and of the other people, the Tawáti and Mohammed eʾ Sfaksi, although the latter trembled with fear and was as pale as death, Yusuf Mukni remained behind. Fárreji on this occasion behaved with great courage, and bravely challenged the enemy. What frightened the latter most were the bayonets on our guns, as they saw that, after having received our fire, they would not yet have done with us, but would still have a weapon to encounter at least as formidable as their own spears. As soon as the enemy had protested that he was only come against us as Christians, all sympathy for us ceased in the caravan. All expected that we would become Moslemín without great difficulty; and our servant Mohammed, when we rejected this condition as an impossibility, immediately relapsed into his ordinary impudence, laughing in our faces because, forsooth, we were so absurd as still to think of some other expedient. This clever but spoiled youngster was a protégé of the British consulate in Tunis.

At length all seemed to be settled. The whole host of the enemy, besides its rich booty, had been treated with an enormous quantity of mohamsa, and we had repeatedly been assured that now we might be certain of reaching the chief Ánnur’s residence without any further disturbance, when the little Ánnur, a man of honest but mild character, came to beg us most earnestly to be on our guard, lest behind the rocks and ridges there might still be some persons in ambush. At length we left this inhospitable place; but we were far from being at ease, for it was clear that there was still a cloud on the horizon, which might easily gather to another storm. After a short march, we encamped in a small valley without pitching our tents. The Merábet who had accompanied and sanctioned the expedition against us was now in our company, and that was thought to be the best means of preventing any further molestation. This man, as I made out afterwards, was no other than Ibrahím Aghá-batúre (the son of Háj Beshír, a well-known and influential person settled in Ferwán, or Iferwán), who, in consequence of these proceedings, was afterwards punished severely by the Sultan of Ágades. With Aghá-batúre himself I met accidentally at a later period, in 1853, near Zinder, when he was greatly astonished to see me still alive, notwithstanding all the hardships I had gone through. Bóro, who passed the evening with him in reading the Kurán, treated him hospitably—with Mr. Richardson’s mohamsa.

Monday, August 26.—After a march of three miles and a half, having ascended a little, we obtained a clear view of the great mountain mass which, lying between Tídik, on the north and Tintagh-odé on the west, seems not to be marked with a collective proper name, although it is very often called by the people Mount Absen. But I cannot say whether this name, which is the old Góber name for the whole country called the Berbers Aïr, belonged originally only to these mountains, or whether it is now given to them merely on account of their being the conspicuous elevation of the country so named, to people coming from the north; for this, according to the unanimous statement of the Kél-owí, is the frontier of Sudán, to which neither Tághajít nor even Tídik belongs. The Tuarek, it would seem, have no indigenous proper name for Sudán (properly Beled eʾ sudán) or Negroland; most of them call it Agús (the south). Nevertheless Tekrúr seems to be an ancient Libyan name for Negroland.

A remarkable peak called Téngik or Tímge towers over this mountain mass, being, according to the intelligent old chief Ánnur (who ought to be well acquainted with his own country), the most elevated point in the whole country of Aïr. Unfortunately our situation in the country was such that we could not think of exploring this very interesting northern barrier, which must be supposed to possess many beautiful glens and valleys. But we were still at some distance from these picturesque mountains, and had to cross a very rugged and dreary waste, where, however, we caught sight of the first ostrich as yet seen on our journey. We encamped at length in a shallow valley devoid of any interesting features.

During the night, while I was on the first watch, walking round the encampment of the caravan, it struck me that at one end of it, beyond the Kél-owí, a small party was separately encamped. When I went there the first time all was quiet; but a little after eleven o’clock (for in general, on such a journey, every one lies down at an early hour), hearing a noise on that side, and turning thither, I saw two armed Tuarek saddle their mehára, and make off in the gloom of night. From this circumstance I concluded that something was still going on against us; but as it appeared useless to make an alarm, I only took the precaution to put Overweg, who succeeded me on the watch, upon his guard.

Tuesday, August 27.—We started at a very early hour; but fortunately the moonlight was so clear and beautiful that I was not interrupted for a moment in marking down all the features of the country—at least along our route, for our situation was now too precarious to allow of our observing angles to fix the exact position of mountains lying at some distance from us. The road in general continued rugged for the first six miles, and formed at times very difficult passes; but, notwithstanding these obstacles, the whole caravan kept as close together as possible, and so frustrated the plans of our persecutors, who, as we concluded from the appearance of several Mehára in the distance, intended to attack us on the road, if occasion offered. There are two roads, the easternmost of which passes further on through a remarkable gorge in the mountains, which we had for a long time ahead of us. Here, where we turned off with a westerly deviation, beautiful white marble, but slightly weatherworn on the surface, appeared between the nodules of granite and gneiss, while on our right we had a rocky ridge called Itsa, the crest of which was indented in a most remarkable way. Further on, where for a while we entered on a gravelly soil, the whole ground was covered with fresh footsteps of camels and men, and there was not the least doubt that another host was gathering against us.

Mount Kadamméllet, with its tapering double peak, at a greater distance in the west, formed an interesting object, while the country was gradually improving. While turning round the lower offshoots of the large mountain mass which we had now approached, we entered a rather narrow but very rich valley, adorned with most luxuriant talha-trees completely enwrapped and bound together by creepers, while the ground was richly clothed with herbage. This is the valley of Tídik; the village of that name, which is situated in a recess of the mountains on our left, remained invisible. It is said to consist of huts formed of a kind of long dry grass, and therefore makes some approach to the fashion of Sudán; these huts are called tághamt, or táramt, by the Southern Imóshagh. But at present the village was desolate, all the inhabitants, the Kél-tídik (people of Tídik), having gone for a while to the fine valleys in the west, which appear to be richer than those to the east. Further on we crossed the bed of a considerable torrent, the valley terminating in a narrow passage, which, though generally considered as the very entrance into the region of Sudán, led us once more into a desolate rocky district, at times widening to dry hollows. Here Mount Kadamméllet, of which only the double peak had been previously visible, exhibited to us its ample flanks. The country became so extremely rugged that we advanced but slowly; and having here received distinct information which fully confirmed our apprehension of another predatory expedition against us, we marched in order of battle. Thus we reached a pond of rain-water in the narrow rugged hollow Tároï, where we filled our water-bags. We found here several donkeys of a remarkably fine breed, belonging to the men who had brought us the news. The country beyond this place became more interesting and even picturesque at times, several fine glens descending one after the other from the beautifully indented mountains on our left, which now rose into full view, as the offshoots had gradually receded.

We were only about eight miles from Selúfiet, where we might expect to be tolerably safe; and we had not the least doubt that we were to sleep there, when suddenly, before noon, our old Azkár mádogu Awed el Khér turned off the road to the right, and chose the camping-ground at the border of a broad valley richly overgrown with herbage. As if moved by supernatural agency, and in ominous silence, the whole caravan followed; not a word was spoken. It was then evident that we were to pass through another ordeal, which, according to all appearance, would be of a more serious kind than that we had already undergone. How this plot was laid is rather mysterious; and it can be explained only by supposing that a diabolical conspiracy was entered into by the various individuals of our caravan. Some certainly were in the secret; but Ánnur, not less certainly, was sincere in our interest, and wished us to get through, safely. But the turbulent state of the country did not allow this weak, unenergetic man to attain his object. Blackmail had been levied upon us by the frontier tribes; here was another strong party to be satisfied, that of the Merábetín or Aníslimen, who, enjoying great influence in the country, were in a certain degree opposed to the paramount authority of the old chief Ánnur in Tintéllust; and this man, who alone had power to check the turbulent spirit of these wild and lawless tribes, was laid up with sickness. In Agades there was no Sultan, and several parties still stood in opposition to each other, while by the great expedition against the Welád Slimán all the warlike passions of the people had been awakened, and their cupidity and greediness for booty and rapine excited to the utmost pitch. All these circumstances must be borne in mind in order to form a right view of the manner in which we were sacrificed.

The whole affair had a very solemn appearance from the beginning, and it was apparent that this time there were really other motives in view besides that of robbing us. Some of our companions evidently thought that here, at such a distance from our homes and our brethren in faith, we might yield to a more serious attack upon our religion, and so far were sincerely interested in the success of the proceeding; but whether they had any accurate idea of the fate that awaited us, whether we should retain our property and be allowed to proceed, I cannot say. But it is probable that the fanatics thought little of our future destiny; and it is absurd to imagine that, if we had changed our religion as we would a suit of clothes, we should have thereby escaped absolute ruin. Our people, who well knew what was going on, desired us to pitch only a single tent for all three of us, and not to leave it, even though a great many people should collect about us. The excitement and anxiety of our friend Ánnur had reached the highest pitch, and Bóro was writing letter after letter. Though a great number of Merábetín had collected at an early hour, and a host of other people arrived before sunset, the storm did not break out; but as soon as all the people of our caravan, arranged in a long line close to our tent, under the guidance of the most respected of the Merábetín as Imám, had finished their Mughreb prayers, the calm was at an end, and the scene which followed was awful.

Our own people were so firmly convinced that, as we stoutly refused to change our religion, though only for a day or two, we should immediately suffer death, that our servant Mohammed, as well as Mukni, requested us most urgently to testify, in writing, that they were innocent of our blood. Mr. Richardson himself was far from being sure that the sheikhs did not mean exactly what they said. Our servants, and the chiefs of the caravan, had left us with the plain declaration that nothing less than certain death awaited us; and we were sitting silently in the tent, with the inspiring consciousness of going to our fate in a manner worthy alike of our religion and of the nation in whose name we were travelling among these barbarous tribes, when Mr. Richardson interrupted the silence which prevailed, with these words: “Let us talk a little. We must die; what is the use of sitting so mute?” For some minutes death seemed really to hover over our heads, but the awful moment passed by. We had been discussing Mr. Richardson’s last propositions for an attempt to escape with our lives, when, as a forerunner of the official messenger, the benevolent and kind-hearted Slimán rushed into our tent, and with the most sincere sympathy stammered out the few words, “You are not to die.”

The amount of the spoil taken from us was regulated by the sum which we had paid to our Kél-owí escort, the party concerned presuming that they had just the same demands upon us as our companions. The principal, if not the only, actors in this affair were the Merábetín; and Ánnur, the chief of Tin-téllust, afterwards stated to us that it was to them we had to attribute all our losses and mishaps. There was also just at this period a young sheríf from Medína at Tintagh-odé, with whom we afterwards came into intimate relations, and who confessed to us that he had contributed his part to excite the hatred of the people against the Christian intruders. Experienced travellers have very truly remarked that this sort of sherífs are at the bottom of every intrigue. To the honour of Bóro Serki-n-turáwa, I have to state that he was ashamed of the whole affair, and tried to protect us to the best of his power, although in the beginning he had certainly done all that he could to bring us into difficulties.

It was one of the defects of the expedition that our merchandise, instead of comprising a few valuable things, was for the most part composed of worthless bulky objects, and that it made the people believe that we were carrying with us enormous wealth, while the whole value of our things scarcely amounted to two hundred pounds. We had besides about ten large iron cases filled with dry biscuit, but which all the ignorant people believed to be crammed with money. The consequence was that the next morning, when all the claims had at length been settled, and we wanted to move on, there was still great danger that the rabble, which had not yet dispersed, would fall upon the rest of our luggage; and we were greatly obliged to the Sfaksi, who not only passed some of our luggage as his own, but also dashed to pieces one of the iron cases, when, to the astonishment of the simple people, instead of heaps of dollars, a dry and tasteless sort of bread came forth from the strong enclosure.

Meanwhile the persecuted Christians had made off, accompanied by some of the Kél-owí; and at length the whole caravan collected together. The valley was here very beautiful, and having crossed some smaller hollows, we reached the fine valley of Selúfiet, rich in trees and bushes, but without herbage; while at the distance of less than a mile on our left the high peak of the Tímge stood erect. Towards the west the valley forms a deep gap behind a projecting mass of granite blocks, and it was here that I met again my old acquaintance from the Sʿaid and Nubia, the dúm-tree or Cucifera Thebaïca, here called gáriba, after the Háusa name góreba. From the Kél-owí I could not learn the proper Berber name of this tree, but the Western Imóshagh call it akóf. Even the Capparis sodata seems to be called, by the Berber conquerors of this country, only by the Háusa name abísga, while their western brethren call it téshak. Besides the Cucifera, or fan-palm, there were here also a few isolated specimens of the date-palm.

The village of Selúfiet itself, consisting of sixty or seventy grass huts of peculiar shape, lies on the southern side of a broad valley running here from east to west, and richly overgrown with górebas, abísgas, and talha-trees, but without any grass, for which the ground seems too elevated and stony. Our camping-ground also was of this bare character, and not at all pleasing; it was protected in the rear by large buttresses of rock. We had not yet enjoyed much tranquillity and security, and we here felt its want the more keenly as, our camel-drivers having been hired only as far as this place, we had henceforth to take charge of all our things ourselves. A large mob of lawless people came about us in the course of the night, howling like hungry jackals, and we were obliged to assure them, by frequent firing, that we were on the watch. We had been obliged to leave our camels to the care of the Kél-owí; but the freebooters having succeeded in dispersing the camels in every direction, our friends were unable in the evening to collect either their own animals or ours, and in the night they were all driven away, as we were told, by the Merábetín themselves, who so repeatedly assured us of their protection.

In the letters which we sent to Europe during our next day’s halt in this place, by a caravan of Arabs and Kél-owí, the largest part of which was already in advance, we were unable to give a perfectly satisfactory account of our progress; nevertheless we had made a great step in advance, and were justified in hoping that we should be able to overcome whatever difficulties might still await us, and the more so as we were now able to place ourselves in direct communication with the chief of Tin-téllust, from whom we might soon expect to receive an escort.

Thursday, August 29.—Some of the stolen camels having been recovered, though fifteen were still wanting, we were enabled to move from this uncomfortable place the next day, leaving behind us, however, the boat and some other things, which were valueless to any but ourselves.

Pleased as we were with our onward movement, we were still more cheered when we observed in the fine valley, which here seems to bear the name Érasa, or rather Érazar, some small fields with a fresh green crop of negro millet—a delicious sight to travellers from the desert, and the best assurance that we had entered cultivable regions. The fields or gardens were watered by means of a kind of khattára of very simple construction, a simple pole, with a longer cross pole, to which the bucket is fastened. A little further on the whole valley was clothed with fine widespreading bushes of the abísga or Capparis; but it soon narrowed, while we marched straight upon the high pointed peak overtowering Tintagh-odé, which forms an interesting object. The valley of Selúfiet seems to have no connection with that of the latter place; at least, the principal branch, along which our route lay, was entirely separated from it by rocky ground. Here a broad gap dividing the mountain mass allows a peep into the glens formed by the several ridges of which it consists, and which seem to rise to greater elevation as they recede. The slope is rather precipitous, and the general elevation of this mountain mass seems scarcely less than 3,300 feet above the bottom of the valley, or about 5,000 feet above the level of the sea.

We soon descended again from the rocky ground into a hollow plain richly clothed with vegetation, where, besides the abísga, the tunfáfia or Asclepias gigantea, which we had entirely lost sight of since leaving Égeri, appeared in great abundance. Here also was a new plant which we had not seen before—the “állwot,” with large succulent leaves and a pretty violet flower. The camels devoured it most eagerly, and, in the whole district of Aïr, preferred it to any other kind of food. It has a great resemblance to the poisonous damankádda, which in Sudán is often the cause of dangerous disease, and even of death, to the camel. After marching along this valley for two miles, we encamped on an open space encircled with the green spreading bushes of the abísga, a little beyond Tintagh-odé, the village of the Merábetín or Aníslimen, which is spread in a long line over the low offshoots of the mountain range, and contains about a hundred light huts, almost all of them being made of grass and the leaves of the dúm-palm, a few only being built of stones. Small as this village is, it is of very great importance for the intercourse between Central Africa and the northern region beyond the desert; for under the authority of these learned and devout men, commerce is carried on with a security which is really surprising, if regard be had to the wild and predatory habits of the people around. As these Aníslimen belong to a tribe of the Kél-owí, we may infer that their settlement here was contemporaneous with the conquest of the country by the latter tribe, a conclusion favoured by the narrative of Ebn Batúta, who does not appear to have found any settlements in this quarter.

The Aníslimen, however, though they style themselves “devout men,” have not therefore relinquished all concern about the things of this world, but, on the contrary, by their ambition, intrigues, and warlike proceedings, exercise a great influence upon the whole affairs of the country, and have placed themselves, as I have already mentioned, in a sort of opposition to the powerful chief of Tin-téllust. Recently, however, a great calamity had befallen them, the Awelímmiden (the “Surka” of Mungo Park, the dreaded enemies of the Kél-owí) having by a sudden inroad carried away all their camels; and it may have been partly the desire to make use of the opportunity afforded them by the arrival of some unprotected infidels, to repair their losses in some measure, which made them deal so hostilely with us.

As we encamped, the boys of the village hovered around us in great numbers; and while we kept a good look out to prevent their pilfering, we could not but admire their tall, well-formed figures and their light colour, the best proof that this little clan does not intermarry with the black race. They wore nothing but a leather apron; and their hair was shorn on the sides, leaving a crest in the middle. When we had made ourselves somewhat comfortable we were desirous of entering into some traffic with the people, in order to replace our provisions, which were almost wholly exhausted; but we soon had reason to be convinced how erroneous were the ideas which we had formed from reports as to the cheapness of provisions in this country, and that we should have very great difficulty in procuring even the little that was absolutely necessary. Of butter and cheese we were unable to obtain the smallest quantity, while only very small parcels of dukhn, or gero (millet or Pennisetum typhoïdeum), were offered to us, and greatly to our disadvantage, as the articles we had to barter with, such as bleached and unbleached calico, razors, and other things, were estimated at a very low rate. A common razor brought us here ten zekka of millet, worth, according to the estimate of the country, one-third of a mithkál, equal to 333 kurdi, or about sixpence-halfpenny. I learnt from Émeli that the Sakomáren, a tribe of Imóshagh possessing large flocks of sheep and even much cattle, bring almost every year a considerable supply of butter to this country, a statement which was soon confirmed by my own experience.

The man just mentioned, who had something extremely noble and prepossessing about him, was about to return to Ghát, and I confided to him a letter for Europe. In all probability this is the letter which was afterwards found in the desert, and was brought by Nakhnúkhen (the chief of the Azkár) himself to Mr. Dickson, Her Majesty’s agent in Ghadámes, who from its fate drew some sinister conclusions as to my own.

Sunday, September 1.—Several other people having left us, we remained in tolerable quiet and repose the whole day; but it was reported that the next day, during which we should be obliged to stay here in order to wait for the restitution of our camels, there would be a great concourse of Mehára to celebrate a marriage in the village; but fortunately the immense quantity of rain which fell in the whole of the neighbourhood, and which on the 1st of September changed our valley into the broad bed of a rapid river, placing all our property in the utmost danger, prevented this design from being executed, and, while it seemed to portend to us a new misfortune, most probably saved us from a much greater mischief.

Having just escaped from the dangers arising from the fanaticism and the rapacity of the people, it was a hard trial to have to contend again against an element the power of which, in these border regions of the desert, we had been far from appreciating and acknowledging. We had no antecedents from which to conclude the possibility that in this region a valley, more than half a mile wide, might be turned, in twenty-four hours, into a stream violent enough to carry away the heaviest things, not excepting even a strong, tall animal like the camel; and it was with almost childish satisfaction that, in the afternoon of Saturday, we went to look at the stream, which was just beginning to roll its floods along. It was then a most pleasant and refreshing sight; the next day it became a grand and awful picture of destruction, which gave us no faint idea of a deluge. To the description of the flood itself, as it is given by Mr. Richardson, I shall not add anything; but I have to mention the following circumstances, which seem not to have been placed in their true light.

Half an hour after midday, the waters began to subside, and ceased to endanger our little island, which, attacked on all sides by the destructive fury of an impetuous mountain torrent swollen to the dimensions of a considerable river, was fast crumbling to pieces, and scarcely afforded any longer space enough to hold our party and our things. Suddenly, on the western shore, a number of Mehára were seen; at the same time the whole population of Tintagh-odé, in full battle-array, came from the other side, and formed themselves in regular groups, partly round our hill, and partly opposite to the Tinýlkum. While we looked with distrust upon these preparations, most of our muskets having been wetted, the mischievous Mohammed approached our hill and, addressing me with a very significant and malevolent look, cried out, “Lots of people!” The previous afternoon, when I had requested him, while squatting himself insolently upon my carpet, to leave this only piece of comfort for my own use, he threatened me in plain terms, and in the coolest manner, that the following night I should lie on the bottom of the wady, and he upon my carpet. Not put out by his malice, though I was myself rather doubtful as to the friendly intentions of all these people, I told him that the Mehára were our friends, sent by the chief Ánnur as an escort to conduct us safely to Tin-téllust. With a threatening gesture he told me I should be sadly disappointed, and went away. Fortunately, it turned out that the people mounted on camels were really Annur’s escort; but at the same time a large band of robbers had collected, in order to make a last effort to take possession of our property before we should obtain the protection of Ánnur, and only withdrew reluctantly when they saw that they should meet with a strong opposition.

We were then justified in hoping that we had at length entered a harbour affording us a certain degree of security, and with thankful and gladdened hearts we looked forward to our further proceedings. Our present situation, however, was far from being comfortable: almost all our things were wet; our tents were lying in the mud at the bottom of the stream; and our comfortable and strong, but heavy, Tripolitan tent was so soaked with water and earth that a camel could scarcely carry it. Leaving at length our ill-chosen camping-ground, Overweg and I were passing the principal torrent (which was still very rapid), when the camels we rode, weakened by the dreadful situation they had been in the whole day, were unable to keep their feet, and, slipping on the muddy bottom, set us down in the midst of the stream. Soaked and barefoot, having lost my shoes, I was glad to reach in the dark the new encampment which had been chosen on the elevated rocky ground a little beyond the border of the valley. Our beds were in the most cheerless condition, and in an unhealthy climate would certainly have been productive of bad consequences. Aír, however, in every respect may be called the Switzerland of the desert.

Monday, September 2.—Fortunately the weather on the following morning cleared up, and, although the sun came forth only now and then, a fresh wind was very favourable for drying; and it was pleasant to see one thing after another resume a comfortable appearance. The whole encampment seemed to be one large drying-ground.

Having recovered a little from the uncomfortable state in which we had passed the night, we went to pay a visit to the principal men of our new escort, who had seated themselves in a circle, spear in hand, with their leader, Hámma (a son-in-law of the chief Ánnur) in the midst of them. Entire strangers as both parties were to each other, and after the many mishaps we had gone through, and the many false reports which must have reached these men about our character, the meeting could not fail to be somewhat cool. We expressed to the leader our sincere acknowledgment of the service which the chief Ánnur had rendered us, and begged him to name us to such of his companions as were related to the chief. On this occasion Mohammed, the chief’s cousin, who afterwards became a great friend of mine, made himself remarkable by his pretensions and arrogance. They were all of them tolerably good-looking, but they were not at all of the same make as the Azkár and the people living near the border of Aïr. They were blacker, and not so tall, and, instead of the austere and regular northern features, had a rounder and more cheerful, though less handsome expression of countenance. Their dress also was more gay, several of them wearing light blue, instead of the melancholy-looking dark blue tobes.

At about ten o’clock we at length moved on, and chose the western of the two roads, leading hence to Tin-téllust, by way of Fódet; the eastern one passes through Tágo and Táni. Leaving the large green valley of Tintagh-odé on our left, we kept on more uneven ground, passing some smaller glens, till we reached the commencement of the fine broad valley Fódet, and encamped near the cliffs bordering its eastern side. Here the water, rushing down from the rocks in a sort of cascade, had formed a pond, which, however, was not destined to remain long.

Tuesday, September 3.—We made a very interesting march through a country marked with bold features, and showing itself in more than one respect capable of being the abode of man. Turning away from the eastern border, we kept more along the middle of the valley, till we reached the most picturesque spot, where it divided into two branches, the eastern of which, bordered by several imposing mountain spurs, presented a very interesting perspective, of which the accompanying sketch, drawn as it was on the back of my camel, will give only a faint idea.

The whole bottom of the valley, where, the day before yesterday, a mighty torrent had been foaming along, was now glittering with fragments of minerals. We then passed the ruins of some houses carried away by the floods, and met further on a little troop of asses laden with éneli. Our whole caravan was in good spirits; and our escort, in order to give us a specimen of their horsemanship, if I may so call it, got up a race, which, as may be readily imagined, proved a very awkward affair. Two or three of the riders were thrown off, and the sport soon came to an end. The swift camel is excellent for trotting, but it can never excel in a gallop. In our ascent we had reached very considerable mountain masses on our right, when some of our old companions, who had come with us from Ghát, separated from us, in order to go to their village, Túngadu. Among these was Ákshi, a very modest and quiet man, who alone of all these people had never begged from me even the merest trifle, though he gave me some information, and I might have learnt much more from him if I had seen him more frequently. But I had the good fortune to meet with him again at a later period.

The country here became very mountainous, and the ascent steep, till we reached a valley called by some of the Kél-owí the upper course of the valley of Tin-téllust. Having reached the crest of the elevation, we began to descend, first gradually along smaller valleys, afterwards more steeply into a deep ravine, while in the distance towards the south-west, above the lower hills, a ridge of considerable elevation became visible. Gradually the ravine widened, and became clothed with fine herbage. Here, to our great disappointment, the little Ánnur, Dídi, Fárreji, and several of the Tinýlkum (among them the intelligent and active Ibrahím) left us in order to reach their respective residences. Of course Ánnur ought to have seen us safe to the chief’s residence; but being without energy, he allowed our new companions, with whom we had not yet been able to become acquainted, to extort from us what they could, as the Fade-ang and the Aníslimen had done before. Keeping along some smaller valleys, we reached, about noon, a considerable pond of rain-water, where I watered my thirsty camel. Almost all the smaller valleys through which we passed incline towards the west.

Much against our wish, we encamped a little after three o’clock P.M., in a widening of the valley Afís, near the southern cliffs (which had a remarkably shattered appearance), there being a well at some little distance. We had scarcely encamped when a troublesome scene was enacted, in the attempt to satisfy our escort, the men not being yet acquainted with us, and making importunate demands. But there was more turmoil and disturbance than real harm in it; and though half of the contents of a bale of mine were successfully carried off by the turbulent Mohammed, and a piece of scarlet cloth was cut into numberless small shreds in the most wanton manner, yet there was not much to complain of, and it was satisfactory to see Hámma (Ánnur’s son-in-law, and the chief of the escort) display the greatest energy in his endeavours to restore what was forcibly taken.

Wednesday, September 4.—We were glad when day dawned; but with it came very heavy rain, which had been portended last night by thickly accumulated clouds and by lightning. Rain early in the morning seems to be rather a rare phenomenon, as well in this country as all over Central Africa, if it be not in continuation of the previous night’s rain; and it was probably so on this occasion, rain having fallen during the whole night in the country around us.

Having waited till the rain seemed to have a little abated, we started at seven o’clock, in order to reach the residence of the powerful chief Ánnur, in whose hands now lay the whole success of the expedition. Though all that we had heard about him was calculated to inspire us with confidence in his personal character, yet we could not but feel a considerable degree of anxiety. Soon emerging from the valley of Afís, we ascended rocky ground, over which we plodded, while the rain poured down upon us with renewed violence, till we reached the commencement of another valley, and a little further, on its northern side, the small village Sárara, or Asárara, divided into two groups, between which we passed. We then crossed low rocky ground intersected by many small beds of torrents descending from the mountains on our left, which rise to a considerable elevation. All these channels incline towards the south, and are thickly clothed with bushes.

It was half-past nine o’clock, the weather having now cleared up, when we entered the valley of Tin-téllust, forming a broad sandy channel, bare of herbage, and only lined with bushes along its border. On the low rocky projections on its eastern side lay a little village, scarcely discernible from the rocks around; it was the long and anxiously looked-for residence of the chief Eʾ Núr or Ánnur. Our servants saluted it with a few rounds. Leaving the village on the eastern border of the sandy bed, we went a little further to the south, keeping close to the low rocky projection on our right, at the foot of which was the little tebki or water-pond, and encamped on a sand-hill rising in a recess of the rocky offshoots, and adorned at its foot with the beautiful green and widely spreading bushes of the Capparis sodata, while behind was a charming little hollow with luxuriant talha-trees. Over the lower rocky ground rose Mount Tunán, while towards the south the majestic mountain group of Búnday closed the view. As for the prospect over the valley towards the village, and the beautiful mountain mass beyond, it is represented in the annexed sketch, made at a later period, and for the accuracy of which I can answer.

Altogether it was a most beautiful camping-ground, where in ease and quiet we could establish our little residence, not troubled every moment by the intrusion of the townspeople; but it was rather too retired a spot, and too far from our protector, being at least eight hundred yards from the village, in a country of lawless people not yet accustomed to see among them men of another creed, of another complexion, and of totally different usages and manners.

This spot being once selected, the tents were soon pitched; and in a short time, on the summit of the sand-hill, there rose the little encampment of the English expedition, consisting of four tents forming a sort of semi-circle, opening towards the south, the point to which all our arduous efforts were directed, Mr. Richardson’s tent towards the west, Overweg’s and mine adjoining it towards the east, and each flanked by a smaller tent for the servants. Doubtless this sand-hill will ever be memorable in the annals of the Asbenáwa as the “English Hill,” or the “Hill of the Christians.” But before I proceed to relate the incidents of our daily life while we stayed here, it will be well to introduce the reader to the country and the people with whom we have come in contact.

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The name Aír, exactly as it is written and pronounced by the natives at the present day, first occurs in the description of Leo, which was written in 1526. The country Káher, mentioned by the traveller Ebn Batúta on his home journey from Tekádda by way of the wells of Asïu, is evidently somewhere hereabouts, but seems rather to denote the region a few days’ journey west from Tin-téllust, and to be identical with the “Ghir” of Leo, though this extended more to the south-west. The name being written by the Arabs with an h (Ahír), most historical geographers have erroneously concluded that this is the true indigenous form of the name.

Aïr, however, does not appear to be the original name of the country, but seems to have been introduced by the Berber conquerors, the former name being Asben or Absen, as it is still called by the black and the mixed population. Asben was formerly the country of the Góberáwa, the most considerable and noble portion of the Háusa nation, which does not seem to belong to the pure Negro races, but to have originally had some relationship with North Africa; and from this point of view the statement of Sultan Bello cannot be regarded as absurd, when in the introduction to his historical work on the conquests of the Fulbe, “Infák él misúri fi fat hah el Tekrúri,” he calls the people of Góber Copts, though only one family is generally considered by the learned men of the country as of foreign origin. The capital of this kingdom of Asben, at least since the sixteenth century, was Tin-shamán, at present a village a little to the west of the road from Aúderas to Ágades, and about twenty miles from the latter place. The name is evidently a Berber one; and the Berber influence is still more evident from the fact that a portion, at least, of the population of the town were Masúfa, a well-known Berber tribe who in former times were the chief guides on the road from Sejilmésa to Waláta. Be this as it may, several learned men, inhabitants of this place, are mentioned by the native historians of Negroland, which shows that there existed in it some degree of comparative civilization. In the middle of the fourteenth century not only Tekádda, but even Káhír was in the hands of the Berbers, as we see from Batúta’s narrative; and this eminent traveller mentions a curious custom with regard to the Berber prince, whom he styles el Gérgeri, or Tegérgeri, which even at the present moment is in full operation in this country, viz. that the succession went not to his own sons, but to his sister’s sons. This remarkable fact is a certain proof that it was not a pure Berber state, but rather a Berber dominion engrafted upon a Negro population, exactly as was the case in his time in Waláta. Leo, who first calls the country by its present Berber name Aïr, states also expressly that it was then occupied by Tuarek, “Targa populo;” and we learn also from him that the ruler of Ágades (a town first mentioned by him) was likewise a Berber; so that it might seem as if the state of the country at that time was pretty nearly the same as it is now; but such was not the case.

The name of the Kél-owí is not mentioned either by Leo or any other writer before the time of Horneman, who, before he set out from Fezzán on his journey to Bórnu, obtained some very perspicuous information about these people, as well as about their country, Asben. At that time, before the rise of the Fulbe under their reformer (el Jihádi), Othmán, the son of Fódiye, it was a powerful kingdom, to which Góber was tributary. From Horneman’s expression it would seem that the Kél-owí had conquered the country only at a comparatively recent date; and this agrees perfectly with the results of my inquiries, from which I conclude that it took place about A.D. 1740. However, we have seen that four centuries before that time the country was in the hands of the Berbers.

It appears that the Kél-owí are traceable from the north-west, and the nobler part of them belong to the once very powerful and numerous tribe of the Aurághen, whence their dialect is called Auraghíye even at the present day. Their name signifies “the people settled in (the district or valley of) Owí;” for “kél” is exactly identical with the Arabic word áhel, and seems besides to be applied with especial propriety to indicate the settled, in opposition to the nomadic tribes. For in general the characteristic mark of the Kél-owí and their kinsmen is, that they live in villages consisting of fixed and immovable huts, and not in tents made of skins, like the other tribes, or in movable huts made of mats, like the Tagáma and many of the Imghád of the Awelímmiden. With this prefix kél may be formed the name of the inhabitants of any place or country: Ferwán, Kél-ferwán; Bághzen, Kél-bághzen; Afélle (the north), Kél-afélle, “the people of the north,” whom the Arabs in Timbúktu call Áhel eʾ Sáhel; and no doubt a Targi, at least of the tribe of the Awelímmiden or Kél-owí, would call the inhabitants of London Kél-london or Kél-londra, just as he says Kél-ghadámes, Kél-tawát.

But there is something indeterminate in the name Kél-owí, which has both a narrower and a wider sense, as is frequently the case with the names of those tribes which, having become predominant, have grouped around them and, to a certain extent, even incorporated with themselves many other tribes which did not originally belong to them. In this wider sense the name Kél-owí comprises a great many tribes, or rather sections, generally named after their respective settlements.

I have already observed that the Berbers, in conquering this country from the Negro, or I should rather say the sub-Libyan race (the Leucæthiopes of the ancients), did not entirely destroy the latter, but rather mingled with them by intermarriage with the females, thereby modifying the original type of their race, and blending the severe and austere manners and the fine figure of the Berber with the cheerful and playful character and the darker colour of the African. The way in which they settled in this country seems to have been very similar to that in which the ancient Greeks settled in Lycia. For the women appear to have the superiority over the male sex in the country of Asben, at least to a certain extent; so that when a ba-Ásbenchi marries a woman of another village she does not leave her dwelling-place to follow her husband, but he must come to her in her own village. The same principle is shown in the regulation that the chief of the Kél-owí must not marry a woman of the Targi blood, but can rear children only from black women or female slaves.

With respect to the custom that the hereditary power does not descend from the father to the son, but to the sister’s son—a custom well known to be very prevalent not only in many parts of Negroland, but also in India, at least in Malabar—it may be supposed to have belonged originally to the Berber race; for the Azkár, who have preserved their original manners tolerably pure, have the same custom, but they also might have adopted it from those tribes (now their subjects—the Imghád) who conquered the country from the black natives. It may therefore seem doubtful whether, in the mixed empires of Ghánata, Melle, and Waláta, this custom belonged to the black natives or was introduced by the Berbers. Be this as it may, it is certain that the noble tribe of the Awelímmiden deem the custom in question shameful, as exhibiting only the man’s mistrust of his wife’s fidelity; for such is certainly its foundation.

As for the male portion of the ancient population of Asben, I suppose it to have been for the most part exterminated, while the rest was degraded into the state of domestic slavery, with the distinct understanding that neither they nor their children should ever be sold out of the country. The consequence of this covenant has been an entire mixture between the Berber conquerors and the female part of the former population, changing the original Berber character entirely, as well in manners and language as in features and complexion. Indeed, the Háusa language is as familiar to these people as their Auraghíye, although the men, when speaking among themselves, generally make use of the latter. The consequence is that the Kél-owí are regarded with a sort of contempt by the purer Berber tribes, who call them slaves (íkelán). But there is another class of people, not so numerous, indeed, in Asben itself as in the districts bordering upon it; these are the Búzawe, or Abogelíte, a mixed race, with generally more marked Berber features than the Kél-owí, but of darker colour and lower stature, while in manners they are generally debased, having lost almost entirely the noble carriage which distinguishes even the most lawless vagabond of pure Targi blood. These people, who infest all the regions southwards and south-eastwards from Asben, are the offspring of Tuarek females with black people, and may, belong either to the Háusa or to the Sónghay race.

What I have here said sets forth the historical view of the state of things in this country, and is well known to all the enlightened natives. The vulgar account of the origin of the Kél-owí from the female slave of a Tinýlkum who came to Asben, where she gave birth to a boy who was the progenitor of the Kél-owí, is obviously nothing but a popular tale, indicating, at the utmost, only some slight connection of this tribe with the Tinýlkum.

Having thus preliminarily discussed the name of the tribe and the way in which it settled in the country, I now proceed to give a list, as complete as possible, of all the divisions or tiúsi (sing. tausit) which compose the great community of the Kél-owí.

The most noble (that is to say, the most elevated, not by purity of blood, but by authority and rank) of the subdivisions of this tribe at the present time are the Irólangh, the Amanókalen or Sultan family, to which belongs Ánnur, with no other title than that of Sheikh or Elder (the original meaning of the word)—“sófo” in Háusa, “ámaghár” or “ámghár” in Temáshight. The superiority of this section seems to date only from the time of the present chief’s predecessor, the Kél-ferwán appearing to have had the ascendency in earlier times. Though the head of this family has no title but that of Sheikh, he has nevertheless far greater power than the amanókal or titular Sultan of the Kél-owí, who resides in Ásodi, and who is at present really nothing more than a prince in name. The next in authority to Ánnur is Háj ʿAbdúwa, the son of Ánnur’s eldest sister, and who resides in Táfidet.

The family or clan of the Irólangh, which, in the stricter sense of the word, is called Kél-owí, is settled in ten or more villages lying to the east and the south-east of Tin-téllust, the residence of Ánnur, and has formed an alliance with two other influential and powerful families, viz. the Kél-azanéres, or people of Azanéres, a village, as I shall have occasion to explain further on, of great importance, on account of its situation in connection with the salt lakes near Bilma, which constitute the wealth and the vital principle of this community. On account of this alliance, the section of the Kél-azanéres affected by it is called Irólangh wuén Kél-azanéres; and to this section belongs the powerful chief Lúsu, or, properly, el Úsu, who is in reality the second man in the country on the score of influence.

On the other side, the Irólangh have formed alliance and relationship with the powerful and numerous tribe of the Ikázkezan, or Ikéshkeshen, who seem likewise to have sprung from the Aurághen; and on this account the greater, or at least the more influential, part of the tribe, including the powerful chief Mghás, is sometimes called Irólangh wuén Ikázkezan, while, with regard to their dwelling-place, Támar, they bear the name Kél-támar. But this is only one portion of the Ikázkezan. Another very numerous section of them is partly scattered about Damerghú, partly settled in a place called Elákwas (or, as it is generally pronounced, Alákkos), a place between Damerghú and Múnio, together with a mixed race called Kél-elákwas. The Ikázkezan of this latter section bear, in their beautiful manly figure and fine complexion, much more evident traces of the pure Berber blood than the Irólangh; but they lead a very lawless life, and harass the districts on the borders of Háusa and Bórnu with predatory incursions, especially those settled in Elákwas.

There are three tribes whose political relations give them greater importance, namely, the Kél-táfidet, the Kél-n-Néggaru, and the Kél-fares. The first of these three, to whom belongs the above-mentioned Háj ʿAbdúwa, live in Táfidet, a group of three villages lying at the foot of a considerable mountain chain thirty miles to the south-east of Tin-téllust, and at the distance of only five good days’ march from Bilma. The Kél-n-Néggaru form an important family originally settled in Néggaru, a district to the north of Selúfiet; but at present they live in Ásodi and in the village Eghellál, and some of them lead a nomadic life in the valleys of Tin-téggana and Ásada. On account of the present Sultan (who belongs to them) being called Astáfidet, they are now also named Aushi-n-Astáfidet (the tribe of Astáfidet). The Kél-fares, to whom belongs the great, mʿallem Azóri, who, on account of his learning, is respected as a prince in the whole country, live in Tin-téyyat, a village about thirty-five miles east-north-east from Tin-téllust.

The nominal chief of the Kél-owí is the amanókal residing in Asodi; but there is now another greater association or confederation, formed by the Kél-owí, the Kél-gerés, and the Itísan, and some other smaller tribes combined together; and the head of this confederation is the great amanókal residing in Ágades. This league, which at present hardly subsists (the Kél-gerés and Itísan having been driven by the Kél-owí from their original settlements, and being opposed to them almost constantly in open hostility), was evidently in former times very strong and close.

But before speaking of the Kél-gerés and their intimate friends the Itísan, I shall mention those small tribes which, though not regarded as belonging to the body of the Kél-owí and placed under the special and direct supremacy or government of the Sultan of Ágades, are nevertheless more intimately related to them than to the other great tribes. These are, besides the Ém-egédesen, or the inhabitants of Ágades or Agadez, of whom I shall speak in the account of my journey to that interesting place, the three tribes of the Kél-fadaye, the Kél-ferwán and the Izeráren.

As for the Kél-fadaye they are the original and real inhabitants of the district Fáde-ang, which lies round Tághajít; while the Éfadaye, who have been called after the same district, are rather a mixture of vagabonds flocking here from different quarters, and principally from that of the Azkár. But the Kél-fadaye, who, as well as their neighbours the Éfadaye, took part in the ghazzia against the expedition on the frontiers of Aïr, are a very turbulent set of people, being regarded in this light by the natives themselves, as appears from the letter of the Sultan of Ágades to the chiefs Ánnur and Lúsu, of which I brought back a copy, wherein they are called Mehárebín, or freebooters. Nevertheless they are of pure and noble Berber blood, and renowned for their valour; and I was greatly astonished to learn afterwards from my noble and intimate friend and protector the sheikh Sídi Ahmed el Bakáy, that he had married one of their daughters, and, had long resided amongst them. Even from the letter of the Sultan of Ágades it appears that they have some relations with the Awelímmiden. The name of their chief is Shúrwa.

The Kél-ferwán, though they are called after the fine and fertile place Iferwán, in one of the valleys to the east of Tintágh-odé, where a good deal of millet is sown, and where there are plenty of date-trees, do not all reside there at present, a numerous portion of them having settled in the neighbourhood of Ágades, whence they make continual marauding expeditions, or “égehen,” upon the Timbúktu road, and against the Awelímmiden. Nevertheless the Kél-ferwán, as the kinsmen of the Aurághen, and the Amanókalen (that is to say the clan to which, before the different tribes came to the decision of fetching their Sultan from Sókoto, the family of the Sultan belonged) are of nobler and purer blood than any of the rest. As an evidence of their former nobility, the custom still remains that when the Sultan of Ágades leaves the town for any length of time his deputy or lieutenant in the place is the chief of the Kél-ferwán.

The third tribe of those who are under the direct authority of the Sultan of Ágades, viz. the Izeráren, live between Ágades and Damerghú. But I did not come into contact with them.

The Kél-gerés and Itísan seem to have been originally situated in the fertile and partially beautiful districts round the Bághzen, or (as these southern tribes pronounce the name in their dialect) Mághzem, where, on our journey towards Damerghú, we found the well-built stone houses in which they had formerly dwelt.

On being driven out of their original seats by the Kél-owí, about twenty-five or thirty years ago, they settled towards the west and south-west of Ágades, in a territory which was probably given them by the Awelímmiden, with an intention hostile to the Kél-owí. From that time they have been alternately in bloody feud or on amicable terms with the Kél-owí; but a sanguinary war has recently (in 1854) broken out again between these tribes, which seems to have consumed the very sources of their strength, and cost the lives of many of my friends, and among them that of Hámma, the son-in-law of Ánnur. The principal dwelling-place of the Kél-gerés is Arar, while their chief market-place is said to be Jóbeli, on the road from Ágades to Sókoto.

The Kél-gerés and the Itísan together are equal in effective strength to the Kél-owí, though they are not so numerous, the latter being certainly able to collect a force of at least ten thousand armed men, all mounted, besides their slaves, while the former are scarcely able to furnish half as many. But the Kél-gerés and Itísan have the advantage of greater unity, while the interests of the various tribes of the Kél-owí are continually clashing, and very rarely allow the whole body to collect together, though exceptions occur, as in the expedition against the Welád Slimán, when they drove away all the camels (according to report, not less than fifty thousand), and took possession of the salt lakes near Bilma.

Moreover, the Kél-gerés and Itísan, having preserved their Berber character in a purer state, are much more warlike. Their force consists for the greater part of well-mounted cavalry, while the Kél-owí, with the exception of the Ikázkezan, can muster but few horses; and of course the advantage of the horseman over the camel-driver is very great either in open or close fight. The Kél-gerés have repeatedly fought with success even against the Awelímmiden, by whom they are called Aráuwen. They have even killed their last famous chief, Eʾ Nábegha. The Kél-gerés came under the notice of Clapperton, on account of the unfortunate expedition which they undertook against the territories of the Fulbe in the year 1823, though it seems that the expedition consisted chiefly of Tagáma, and that they were the principal sufferers in that wholesale destruction by Sultan Bello.

Their arms in general are the same as those of the Kél-owí, even the men on horseback bearing (besides the spear, the sword, and the dagger) the immense shield of antelope-hide with which they very expertly protect themselves and their horses; but some of them use bows and arrows even on horseback, like many of the Fulbe, in the same way as the ancient Assyrians. A few only have muskets, and those few keep them rather for show than for actual use.

The Itísan (who seem to be the nobler tribe of the two, and, as far as I was able to judge, are a very fine race of men, with expressive, sharply cut features, and a very light complexion) have a chief or amanókal of their own, whose position seems to resemble closely that of the Sultan of the Kél-owí, while the real influence and authority rests with the war-chiefs, támbelis, or támberis, the most powerful among whom were, in 1853, Wanagóda, who resides in Tswáji, near Góber, on the side of the Kél-gerés, and Maiwa, or Mʿoáwíya, in Gulluntsúna, on the side of the Itísan. The name of the present amanókal is Ghámbelu.

I must here state that, in political respects, another tribe at present is closely related with the Kél-gerés, viz. that section of the Awelímmiden (the “Surka” of Mungo Park) which is called Awelímmiden wuén Bodhál; but as these belong rather to the Tuarek or Imóshagh of the west, I shall treat of them in the narrative of my journey to Timbúktu. Other tribes settled near Ágades, and more particularly the very remarkable tribe of the Íghdalén, will, in consequence of the influence exerted on them by the Sónghay race, be spoken of in my account of that place.

Many valleys of Aír or Asben might produce much more than they do at present; but as almost the whole supply of provision is imported, as well as all the clothing material, it is evident that the population could not be so numerous as it is were it not sustained by the salt trade of Bilma, which furnishes the people with the means of bartering advantageously with Háusa. As far as I was able to learn from personal information, it would seem that this trade did not take the road by way of Ásben till about a century ago, consequently not before the country was occupied by the Kél-owí. It is natural to suppose that so long as the Tébu, or rather Tedá, retained political strength, they would not allow strangers to reap the whole advantage of such natural wealth. At present the whole authority of Ánnur as well as Lúsu seems to be based upon this trade, of which they are the steady protectors, while many of their nation deem this trade rather a degrading occupation, and incline much more to a roving life. I now return to our encampment near Tin-téllust, reserving a brief account of the general features of the country till the moment when we are about to leave it.

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Thursday, September 5.—We saw the old chief on the day following our arrival. He received us in a straightforward and kindly manner, observing very simply that even, if as Christians, we had come to his country stained with guilt, the many dangers and difficulties we had gone through would have sufficed to wash us clean, and that we had nothing now to fear but the climate and the thieves. The presents which were spread out before him he received graciously, but without saying a single word. Of hospitality he showed no sign. All this was characteristic.

We soon received further explanations. Some days afterwards he sent us the simple and unmistakable message, that if we wished to proceed to Sudán at our own risk, we might go in company with the caravan, and he would place no obstacle in our way; but if we wanted him to go with us and to protect us, we ought to pay him a considerable sum. In stating these plain terms he made use of a very expressive simile, saying that as the leffa (or snake) killed everything that she touched, so his word, when it had once escaped his lips, had terminated the matter in question—there was nothing more to be said. I do not think this such an instance of shameful extortion as Mr. Richardson represents it, considering how much we gave to others who did nothing for their pay, and how much trouble we caused Ánnur. On the contrary, having observed Ánnur’s dealings to the very last, and having arrived under his protection safely at Kátsena, I must pronounce him a straightforward and trustworthy man, who stated his terms plainly and drily, but stuck to them with scrupulosity; and as he did not treat us, neither did he ask anything from us, nor allow his people to do so. I shall never forgive him for his niggardliness in not offering me so much as a drink of fura or ghussub-water when I visited him, in the heat of the day, on his little estate near Tasáwa; but I cannot withhold from him my esteem both as a great politician in his curious little empire, and as a man remarkable for singleness of word and purpose.

Having come into the country as hated intruders, pursued by all classes of people, we could not expect to be received by him otherwise than coldly; but his manner changed entirely when I was about to set out for Ágades, in order to obtain the good-will of the Sultan of the country. He came to our encampment to see me off, and from that day forth did not omit to visit us every day, and to maintain the most familiar intercourse with us. So it was with all the people; and I formed so many friendships with them that the turbulent Mohammed, Ánnur’s cousin, used often to point to them as a proof how impossible it was that he could have been the instigator of the misdeeds perpetrated on the night preceding our arrival in Tin-téllust, when we were treated with violence, and our luggage was rifled. Still we had, of course, many disagreeable experiences to make before we became naturalized in this new country.

Monday, September 9.—It was the rainy season, and the rain, setting in almost daily, caused us as much interest and delight (being a certain proof that we had reached the new regions after which we had so long been hankering) as served to counterbalance the trouble which it occasioned. Sometimes it fell very heavily, and, coming on always with a dreadful storm, was very difficult to be kept out from the tent, so that our things often got wet. The heaviest rain we had was on the 9th of September, when an immense torrent was formed, not only in the chief valley, but even in the small ravine behind our encampment. Yet we liked the rain much better than the sand-storm. In a few days nature all around assumed so fresh and luxuriant a character that so long as we were left in repose we felt cheered to the utmost, and enjoyed our pleasant encampment, which was surrounded by masses of granite blocks, widespreading bushes of the abísga, and large luxuriant talha-trees, in wild and most picturesque confusion. It was very pleasant and interesting to observe, every day, the rapid growth of the little fresh leaves and young offshoots, and the spreading of the shady foliage.

Tuesday, September 17.—Monkeys now and then descended into the little hollow beyond our tents to obtain a draught of water; and numbers of jackals were heard every night roving about us, while the trees swarmed with beautiful ringdoves, and hoopoes, and other smaller birds. The climate of Aïr has been celebrated from the time of Leo, on account “della bontá e temperanza dell’ aere.” But unfortunately our little English suburb proved too distant from the protecting arm of the old chief, and after the unfortunate attack in the night of the 17th of September, which if made with vigour would inevitably have ended in our destruction, we were obliged to remove our encampment, and, crossing the broad valley, pitch it in the plain near the village.

But the circumstances connected with this attack were so curious that I must relate them, in a few words. The rain, which had wetted all our things, and made us anxious about our instruments and arms, seemed to abate; and Overweg and I decided, the very day preceding the attack in question, on cleaning our guns and pistols, which had been loaded for some time; and having cleaned them, and wishing to dry them well, we did not load them again immediately. In the afternoon we had a visit from two well-dressed men, mounted on mehára; they did not beg for anything, but inspected the tents very attentively, making the remark that our tent was as strong as a house, while Mr. Richardson’s was light and open at the bottom.

The moon shed a splendid light over the interesting wilderness, and our black servants being uncommonly cheerful and gay that night, music and dancing were going on in the village, and they continued playing till a very late hour, when they fell asleep. Going the round of our encampment before I went to lie down, I observed at a little distance a strange camel, or rather méheri, kneeling quietly down with its head towards our tents. I called my colleagues, and expressed my suspicion that all was not right; but our light-hearted and frivolous servant Mohammed calmed my uneasiness by pretending that he had seen the camel there before, though that was not true. Still I had some sad foreboding, and, directing my attention unluckily to the wrong point, caused our sheep to be tied close to our tent.

Being uneasy, I did not sleep soundly, and a little after two o’clock I thought I heard a very strange noise, just as if a troop of people were marching with a steady step round our tents, and muttering in a jarring voice. Listening anxiously for a moment, I felt sure that there were people near the tent, and was about to rush out; but again, on hearing the sound of music proceeding from the village, I persuaded myself that the noise came from thence, and lay down to slumber, when suddenly I heard a louder noise, as if several men were rushing up the hill, and, grasping a sword and calling aloud for our people, I jumped out of the tent; but there was nobody to be seen. Going then round the hill to Mr. Richardson’s tent, I met him coming out half-dressed, and begging me to pursue the robbers, who had carried away some of his things. Some of his boxes were dragged out of the tent, but not emptied. None of his servants were to be seen except Sʿaid, all the rest having run away without even giving an alarm; so that all of us might have been murdered.

But immediately after this accident we received the distinct assurance of protection both from the Sultan of Ágades and from the great mʿallem Azóri; and I began to plan my excursion to Ágades more definitely, and entered into communication with the chief on this point. Meanwhile I collected a great deal of information about the country, partly from a Tawáti of the name of ʿAbd el Káder (not the same who accompanied us on the road from Ghát), and partly from some of the Tinýlkum, who, having left us the day after our arrival in Tin-téllust, had dispersed all over the country, some pasturing their camels in the most favoured localities, others engaged in little trading speculations, and paying us a visit every now and then. Small caravans came and went, and among them one from Sudán, with its goods laden almost entirely on pack-oxen—a most cheerful sight, filling our hearts with the utmost delight, as we were sure that we had now passed those dreary deserts where nothing but the persevering and abstemious camel can enable man to maintain communications. At length, then, we were enabled to write to Government, and to our friends in Europe, assuring them that we had now overcome, apparently, most of the difficulties which appeared likely to oppose our progress, and that we felt justified in believing that we had now fairly entered upon the road which would lead directly to the attainment of the objects of the expedition.

With regard to our provisions, Overweg and I were at first rather ill off, while Mr. Richardson, although he had been obliged to supply food on the road to troops both of friends and foes, had still a small remnant of the considerable stores which he had laid in at Múrzuk. We had been led to expect that we should find no difficulty in procuring all necessaries, and even a few luxuries, in Asben (and carriage was so dear that we were obliged to rely upon these promises); but we were now sadly disappointed. After a few days, however, the inhabitants being informed that we were in want of provisions, and were ready to buy, brought us small quantities of Guinea corn, butter—the botta (or box made of rough hide, in the way common over almost the whole of Central Africa) for two or two and a half mithkáls—and even a little fresh cheese; we were also able to buy two or three goats, and by sending Ibrahím, who had now recovered from his guineaworm, to Ásodi, where provisions are always stored up in small quantities, we obtained a tolerable camel-load of durra or sorghum.

But I could not relish this grain at all, and as I was not able to introduce any variety into my diet, I suffered much; hence it was fortunate for me that I went to Ágades, where my food was more varied, and my health consequently improved. I afterwards became accustomed to the various preparations of sorghum and Pennisetum, particularly the asída or túvo, and found that no other food is so well adapted for a hot climate; but it requires a great deal of labour to prepare it well, and this of course is a difficult matter for a European traveller, who has no female slave or partner to look after his meals. Our food during our stay in Asben was so ill prepared (being generally quite bitter, owing to the husk not being perfectly separated from the grain) that no native of the country would taste it.

Meanwhile my negotiation with the chief, with regard to my going to Ágades, which I managed as silently and secretly as possible, went on prosperously; and on the 30th of September I took my leave of him, having with me on the occasion a present for himself, worth about eighty riyáls, or eleven pounds sterling, and the presents intended for the Sultan of Ágades, in order that he might see what they were and express his opinion upon them; and I was greatly pleased to find that he was satisfied with both. He promised me perfect safety, although the undertaking looked a little dangerous, and had a letter written to ʿAbd el Káder (or, in the popular form, Kádiri—this was the name of the new Sultan), wherein he recommended me to him in the strongest terms, and enumerated the presents I meant to offer him.

But as soon as my intention transpired, all the people, uninvited as well as invited, hastened to give me their best advice, and to dissuade me from embarking in an undertaking which would certainly be my ruin. Conspicuous among these motley counsellors was a son of Háj ʿAbdúwa, the presumptive heir of Ánnur, who conjured me to abandon my design. These people, indeed, succeeded in frightening Yusuf Mákni, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter, whom the latter wished to send with me; but as for myself, I knew what I was about, and had full confidence in the old chief’s promise, and was rather glad to get rid of Mákni, whom I well knew to be a clever but no less malicious and intriguing person. With difficulty I persuaded Mohammed, our Tunisian shushán, to accompany me; and I also succeeded in hiring Amánkay, Mr. Richardson’s active black Búzu servant, who, however, on this trip proved utterly useless, as we had no sooner set out than he began to suffer from his old complaint of guineaworm, and was the whole time too lame for service.

I then arranged with Hámma, Ánnur’s son-in-law, under whose especial protection I was to undertake my journey, but whom I had to pay separately. I gave him the value of eleven mithkáls, or about one pound sterling, for himself, and hired from him two camels, each for six mithkáls. After various delays, which, however, enabled me to send off two more of my journals, together with letters, to Múrzuk, by the hand of a half-caste Kél-owí of the name of Báwa Amákita, our departure was definitively fixed for the 4th of October.

---

Friday, October 4.—At length the day arrived when I was to set out on my long-wished-for excursion to Ágades. For although at that time I was not aware of the whole extent of interest attaching to that place, it had nevertheless been to me a point of the strongest attraction. For what can be more interesting than a considerable town, said to have been once as large as Tunis, situated in the midst of lawless tribes, on the border of the desert and of the fertile tracts of an almost unknown continent, established there from ancient times, and protected as a place of rendezvous and commerce between nations of the most different character, and having the most various wants? It is by mere accident that this town has not attracted as much interest in Europe as her sister town, Timbúktu.

It was a fine morning, with a healthy and refreshing light breeze, invigorating both body and mind. The old chief, who had never before visited our encampment, now came out to pay us his compliments, assuring me once more that “my safety rested upon his head.” But his heart was so gladdened at witnessing our efforts to befriend the other great men of his country that his habitual niggardliness was overcome, and with graceful hospitality he resigned one of his bullocks to our party. The little caravan I was to accompany consisted of six camels, five-and-thirty asses, and two bullocks, one of which was allotted to me, till my protector Hámma should be able to hire a camel for me. But although well accustomed to ride on horseback as well as on a camel, I had never yet in my life tried to sit astride on the broad back of a bullock; and the affair was the more difficult as there was no saddle, nor anything to sit upon, except parcels of luggage not very tightly fastened to the animal’s back and swinging from one side to the other.

After the first bullock had been rejected, as quite unfit, in its wild, intractable mood, to carry me, or indeed anything else, and when it had been allowed to return to the herd, the second was at length secured, the luggage fastened somehow on his back, and I was bid to mount. I must truly confess that I should have been better pleased with a horse, or even an ass; but still, hoping to manage matters, I took my seat, and, bidding my fellow-travellers farewell, followed my black companions up the broad valley by which we had come from the north. But we soon left it, and ascended the rocky ground, getting an interesting view of the broad and massive Mount Eghellál before us. Having at first thought my seat rather too insecure for making observations, I grew by degrees a little more confident, and, taking out my compass, noted the direction of the road, when suddenly the baggage threatened to fall over to the right, whereupon I threw the whole weight of my body to the left, in order to keep the balance; but I unluckily overdid it, and so all at once down I came, with the whole baggage. The ground was rocky, and I should inevitably have been hurt not a little if I had not fallen upon the muzzle of my musket, which I was carrying on my shoulder, and which being very strong, sustained the shock, and kept my head from the ground. Even my compass, which I had open in my left hand, most fortunately escaped uninjured, and I felt extremely glad that I had fallen so adroitly, but vowed never again to mount a bullock.

I preferred marching on foot till we reached the valley Eghellúwa, where plenty of water is found, in several wells. Here we halted a moment, and I mounted behind Hámma on the lean back of his camel, holding on by his saddle; but I could not much enjoy my seat, as I was greatly annoyed by his gun sticking out on the right, and at every moment menacing my face. I was therefore much pleased when we reached the little village of Tiggeréresa, lying on the border of a broad valley well clothed with talha-trees, and a little further on encamped in a pleasant recess formed by projecting masses of granite blocks; for here I was told we should surely find camels, and in fact Hámma hired two for me, for four mithkáls each, to go to and return from Ágades. Here we also changed our companions, the very intelligent Mohammed, a son of one of Ánnur’s sisters, returning to Tin-téllust, while the turbulent Mohammed (I called him by no other name than Mohammed bábo hánkali), our friend from Afís, came to attend us, and with him Hámmeda, a cheerful and amiable old man, who was a fair specimen of the improvement derivable from the mixture of different blood and of different national qualities; for while he possessed all the cheerfulness and vivacity of the Góber nation, his demeanour was nevertheless moderated by the soberness and gravity peculiar to the Berber race, and though, while always busy, he was not effectively industrious, yet his character approached very closely to the European standard. He was by trade a blacksmith, a more comprehensive profession in these countries than in Europe, although in general these famous blacksmiths have neither iron nor tools to work with. All over the Tuarek country the “énhad” (smith) is much respected, and the confraternity is most numerous. An “énhad” is generally the prime minister of every little chief. The Arabs in Timbúktu call these blacksmiths “mʿallem,” which may give an idea of their high rank and respected character. Then there is also the “mʿallema,” the constant female companion of the chief’s wife, expert above all in beautiful leather work.

In order to avoid, as much as possible, attracting the attention of the natives, I had taken no tent with me, and sheltered myself at night under the projecting roof of the granite blocks, my Kél-owí friends sleeping around me.

Saturday, October 5.—Hámma was so good as to give up to me his fine tall méheri, while he placed his simple little saddle or “kíri” on the back of the young and ill-trained camel hired here, a proceeding which in the course of our journey almost cost him his ribs. In truth I had no saddle, yet my seat was arranged comfortably by placing first two leathern bags filled with soft articles across the back of the camel, and then fastening two others over them lengthwise, and spreading my carpet over all. Even for carrying their salt, the Kél-owí very rarely employ saddles, or if they do, only of the lightest description, made of straw, which have nothing in common with the heavy and hot “hawiya” of the Arabs.

The country through which we travelled was a picturesque wilderness, with rocky ground intersected at every moment by winding valleys and dry watercourses richly overgrown with grasses and mimosas, while majestic mountains and detached peaks towered over the landscape, the most interesting object during the whole day being Mount Cheréka, with its curious double peak, as it appeared from various sides, first looking as if it were a single peak, only bifurcated at the top, then after a while showing two peaks, separated almost to the very base, and rising in picturesque forms nearly to the same elevation. Unfortunately our road did not lead us near it, although I was as anxious to explore this singular mountain as to visit the town of Ásodi, which some years ago attracted attention in Europe. We had sent a present to Astáfidet, the chief of the Kél-owí residing here, and probably I should have been well received; but Hámma would not hear of our going there now, so we left the town at no great distance to the right, and I must content myself with here inserting the information obtained from other people who had been there repeatedly.

Ásodi, lying at no great distance from the foot of Mount Cheréka, which forms the most characteristic feature of the surrounding landscape, was once an important place, and a great resort for merchants, though as it is not mentioned by any Arabic writer, not even by Leo, it would seem to be of much later origin than Ágades. Above a thousand houses built of clay and stone lie at present in ruins, while only about eighty are still inhabited; this would testify that it was once a comparatively considerable place, with from eight to ten thousand inhabitants. Such an estimate of its magnitude is confirmed by the fact that there were seven tamizgídas, or mosques, in the town, the largest of which was ornamented with columns, the “mamber” alone being decorated with three, while the naves were covered in partly with a double roof made of the stems of the dúm-tree, and partly with cupolas. The town, however, seems never to have been enclosed with a wall, and in this respect, as well as in its size, was always inferior to Ágades. At present, although the population is scattered about, the market of Ásodi is still well provided with provisions, and even with the more common merchandise. The house of the amanókal of the Kél-owí is said to stand on a little eminence in the western part of the town, surrounded by about twenty cottages. There is no well inside, all the water being fetched from a well which lies in a valley stretching from north to south.

Conversing with my companions about this place, which we left at a short distance to our right, and having before us the interesting picture of the mountain range of Búnday, with its neighbouring heights, forming one continuous group with Mount Eghellál, we reached the fine valley Chizólen, and rested in it during the hottest hours of the day, under a beautiful talha-tree, while the various beasts composing our little caravan found a rich pasturage all around.

Having taken here a sufficient supply of very good water from hollows scooped in the sand, we continued our march over rocky ground thickly covered with herbage, and surmounted on our right by the angular outlines and isolated sugar-loaves of a craggy ridge, while on our left rose the broad, majestic form of Mount Eghellál. As evening came on I was greatly cheered at the sight of a herd of well-fed cattle returning from their pasture-grounds to their night quarters near the village of Eghellál, which lies at the foot of the mountain so named. They were fine, sturdy bullocks, of moderate size, all with the hump, and of glossy dark-brown colour. In the distance, as the Eghellál began to retire, there appeared behind it, in faint outlines, Mount Bághzen, which of late years has become so famous in Europe, and had filled my imagination with lofty crests and other features of romantic scenery. But how disappointed was I when, instead of all this, I saw it stretching along in one almost unbroken line! I soon turned my eyes from it to Mount Eghellál, which now disclosed to us a deep chasm or crevice (the channel of powerful floods), separating a broad cone, and apparently dividing the whole mountain mass into two distinct groups.

At six o’clock in the evening we encamped in the shallow valley of Eghellál, at some distance from the well, and were greatly delighted at being soon joined by Háj ʿAbdúwa, the son of Fátima (Ánnur’s eldest sister), and the chief’s presumptive heir, a man of about fifty years of age, and of intelligent and agreeable character. I treated him with a cup or two of coffee well sweetened, and conversed with him awhile about the difference between Egypt, which he had visited on his pilgrimage, and his own country. He was well aware of the immense superiority even of that state of society; but on the other hand he had not failed to observe the misery connected with great density of population, and he told me, with a certain degree of pride, that there were few people in Aïr so miserable as a large class of the inhabitants of Cairo. Being attacked by severe fever, he returned the next morning to his village, Táfidet, but afterwards accompanied the chief Astáfidet on his expedition to Ágades, where I saw him again. I met him also in the course of my travels twice in Kúkawa, whither he alone of all his tribe used to go in order to maintain friendly relations with that court, which was too often disturbed by the predatory habits of roving Kél-owí.

Sunday, October 6.—Starting early, we soon reached a more open country, which to the eye seemed to lean towards Mount Bághzen; but this was only an illusion, as appeared clearly from the direction of the dry watercourses, which all ran from east to west-south-west. On our right we had now Mount Ágata, which has given its name to the village mentioned above as lying at its foot. Here the fertility of the soil seemed greatly increased, the herbage becoming more fresh and abundant, while numerous talhas and abísgas adorned the country. Near the foot of the extensive mountain group of Bághzen, and close to another mountain called Ajúri, there are even some very favoured spots, especially a valley called Chímmia, ornamented with a fine date-grove, which produces fruit of excellent quality. As we entered the meandering windings of a broad watercourse we obtained an interesting view of Mount Belásega. The plain now contracted, and, on entering a narrow defile of the ridges, we had to cross a small pass, from the top of which a most charming prospect met our eyes.

A grand and beautifully shaped mountain rose on our right, leaving, between its base and the craggy heights, the offshoots of which we were crossing, a broad valley running almost east and west, while at the eastern foot of the mountain a narrow but richly adorned valley wound along through the lower rocky ground. This was Mount Abíla, or Bíla, which is at once one of the most picturesque objects in the country of Aír, and seems to bear an interesting testimony to a connection with that great family of mankind which we call the Semitic; for the name of this mountain, or rather of the moist and “green vale” at its foot (throughout the desert, even in its most favoured parts, it is the valley which generally gives its name to the mountain), is probably the same as that of the well-known spot in Syria from which the province of Abilene has been named.

A little beyond the first dry watercourse, where water was to be scooped out a few feet under the surface of the ground, we rested for the heat of the day; but the vegetation around was far from being so rich here as in the valley Tíggeda, at the eastern foot of the picturesque mountain, where, after a short march in the afternoon, we encamped for the night. This was the finest valley I had yet seen in the country. The broad sandy bed of the torrent, at present dry, was bordered with the most beautiful fresh grass, forming a fine turf, shaded by the richest and densest foliage of several kinds of mimosa, the tabórak or Balanites, the tághmart, the abísga, and tunfáfia, while over all this mass of verdure towered the beautiful peaks which on this side start forth from the massive mountain, the whole tinged with the varied tints of the setting sun. This delicious spectacle filled my heart with delight, and having sat down a little while quietly to enjoy it, I made a sketch of the beautiful forms of the mountain peaks. Just before encamping we had passed a small chapel in ruins, surrounded by a cemetery. At that time I thought this valley identical with the Tekádda (as the name is generally spelt), mentioned by Ebn Khaldún and by Ebn Batúta as an independent little Berber state between Gógo and Káhir, lying on the road of the pilgrims; but I found afterwards that there is another place which has better claims to this identification.

Monday, October 7.—We began a most interesting day’s march, winding first along the valley Tíggeda (which now, in the cool of the morning, was enlivened by numerous flocks of wild pigeons), and then over a short tract of rocky ground entering the still more picturesque “Erázar-n-Ásada,” on the west only lined by low rocky ridges, but bordered towards the east by the steep massive forms of the Dógem. Here, indeed, a really tropical profusion of vegetation covered the whole bottom of the valley, and scarcely left a narrow low passage for the camels, the rider being obliged to stoop every moment to avoid being swept off his seat. The principal tree here is the dúm-tree, or Cucifera Thebaïca, which I had not seen since Selúfiet; but here it was in the wild picturesque state into which it soon relapses if left to nature. There was, besides, a great variety of the acacia tribe, all growing most luxuriantly, and interwoven with creepers, which united the whole mass of vegetation into one thick canopy. I regret that there was no leisure for making a sketch, as this valley was far more picturesque even than Aúderas, of which I have been able to give the reader a slight outline.

In this interesting valley we met two droll and jovial-looking musicians, clad in a short and narrow blue shirt, well fastened round their loins, and a small straw hat. Each of them carried a large drum, or tímbali, with which they had been cheering the spirits of a wedding-party, and were now proceeding to some other place on a similar errand. We then met a large slave-caravan, consisting of about forty camels and sixty slaves, winding along the narrow path, hemmed in by the rank vegetation, and looking rather merry than sad, the poor blacks gladdened, doubtless, by the picturesque landscape, and keeping up a lively song in their native melody. In the train of this caravan, and probably interested in its lawless merchandise, went Snúsi and Awed el Khér, two of the camel-drivers with whom we had come from Múrzuk, and who probably had laid out the money gained from the English mission in the very article of trade which it is the desire of the English Government to prohibit. This is a sinister result of well-meant commercial impulses, which will probably subsist as long as the slave-trade itself exists on the north coast of Africa.[8]

On emerging from the thick forest, we obtained the first sight of the majestic cone of the Dógem, while a very narrow ravine or cleft in the steep cliffs on our left led to the village, Ásada. We then began to ascend, sometimes along narrow ravines, at others on sloping rocky ground, all covered with herbage up to the summits of the lower mountains. In this way we reached the highest point of the pass, about 2,500 feet, having the broad cone of the Dógem on our left, which I then thought to be the most elevated point in Aír, though, as I mentioned above, the old chief Ánnur maintained that the Tímge is higher. This conspicuous mountain most probably consists of basalt; and, from what I shall observe further on, it may be inferred that the whole group of the Bághzen does so too. From this pass we descended into the pebbly plain of Erázar-n-Déndemu, thickly overgrown with small talha-trees, and showing along the path numerous footprints of the lion, which are extremely common in these highland wildernesses, which, while affording sufficient vegetation and water for a variety of animals, are but thinly inhabited, and everywhere offer a safe retreat. However, from what I saw of him, he is not a very ferocious animal here.

The weather meanwhile had become sultry; and when, after having left the plain, we were winding through narrow glens, the storm, the last of the rainy season, broke out; and through the mismanagement of the slaves, not only our persons, but all our things were soaked with the rain. Our march became rather cheerless, everything being wet, and the whole ground covered with water, which along the watercourses formed powerful torrents. At length we entered the gloomy, rugged valley of Tághist, covered with basaltic stones, mostly of the size of a child’s head, and bordered by sorry-looking rocky hills.

Tághist is remarkable as the place of prayer founded by the man who introduced Islám into Central Negroland,[9] and thus gave the first impulse to that continual struggle which, always extending further and further, seems destined to overpower the nations at the very equator, if Christianity does not presently step in to dispute the ground with it. This man was the celebrated Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím ben Maghíli, a native of Búda, in Tawát,[10] and a contemporary and intimate friend of the Sheikh eʾ Soyúti, that living encyclopædia and key-stone, if I may be allowed the expression, of Mohammedan learning.

Living in the time when the great Sónghay empire began to decline from that pitch of power which it had reached under the energetic sway of Sónni ʿAli and Mohammed el Háj Áskia, and stung by the injustice of Áskia Ismʿaíl, who refused to punish the murderers of his son, he turned his eyes on the country where successful resistance had first been made against the all-absorbing power of the Asáki, and which, fresh and youthful as it was, promised a new splendour, if enlightened by the influence of a purer religion. Instigated by such motives, partly merely personal, partly of a more elevated character, Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím turned his steps towards Kátsena, where we shall find him again; but on his way thither he founded in this spot a place of prayer, to remain a monument to the traveller of the path which the religion of the One God took from the far east to the country of the blacks. The “msíd,” or “mesálla,” at present is only marked by stones laid out in a regular way, and enclosing a space from sixty to seventy feet long, and fifteen broad, with a small mehhráb, which is adorned (accidentally or intentionally, I cannot say) by a young talha-tree. This is the venerated and far-famed “Makám eʾ Sheikh ben ʿAbd el Kerím,” where the traveller coming from the north never omits to say his prayers; others call it Msíd Sídi Baghdádi, the name Baghdádi being often given by the blacks to the Sheikh, who had long resided in the east.

At length we descended from the rugged ground of Tághist into the commencement of the celebrated valley of Aúderas, the fame of which penetrated to Europe many years ago. Here we encamped, wet as we were, on the slope of the rocky ground, in order to guard against the humidity of the valley. Opposite to us, towards the south, on the top of a hill, lay the little village Aërwen wan Tídrak. Another village, called Ífarghén, is situated higher up the valley, on the road from Aúderas to Damerghú. On our return I saw in this valley a barbarous mode of tillage, three slaves being yoked to a sort of plough, and driven like oxen by their master. This is probably the most southern place in Central Africa where the plough is used; for all over Sudán the hoe or fertaña is the only instrument used for preparing the ground.

Tuesday, October 8.—While the weather was clear and fine, the valley, bordered on both sides by steep precipices, and adorned with a rich grove of dúm-trees, and bush and herbage in great variety, displayed its mingled beauties, chiefly about the well, where, on our return journey, I made the accompanying sketch. This valley, as well as those succeeding it, is able to produce not only millet, but even wheat, wine, and dates, with almost every species of vegetable; and there are said to be fifty garden fields (gónaki) near the village of Ífarghén. But too soon we left this charming strip of cultivation, and ascended the rocky ground on our right, above which again rose several detached hills, one of which had so interesting and well-marked a shape that I sketched its outlines. The road which we followed is not the common one. The latter, after crossing very rugged ground for about fifteen miles, keeps along the fine deep valley Télwa for about ten miles, and then ascending for about an hour, reaches Ágades in three hours more. This latter road passes by Tímelén, where at times a considerable market is said to be held. Having descended again, we found the ground in the plain covered with a thin crust of natron, and further on met people busy in collecting it; but it is not of very good quality, nor at all comparable to that of Múnio or to that of the shores of Lake Tsád. There are several places on the border between the desert and the fertile districts of Negroland which produce this mineral, which forms a most important article of commerce in Middle Sudán. Another well-known natron district is in Zabérma; but in Western Sudán natron is almost unknown, and it is only very rarely that a small sample of it can be got in Timbúktu. Many of the Kél-owí have learnt (most probably from the Tedá or Tébu) the disgusting custom of chewing tobacco intermixed with natron, while only very few of them smoke.

The monotony of the country ceased when we entered the valley Búdde, which, running in the direction of our path from south-south-west to north-north-east, is adorned with a continuous strip of dúm-trees, besides abísga and talha; but the latter were of rather poor growth in the northern part of the valley. Having crossed at noon the broad sandy watercourse, which winds through the rich carpet of vegetation, and where there happened to be a tolerably large pond of water, we encamped in the midst of the thicket. Here the mimosas attained such an exuberance as I had scarcely observed even in the valley Ásada, and being closely interwoven with “gráffeni” or climbing plants, they formed an almost impenetrable thicket. From the midst of this thorny mass of vegetation a beautiful ripe fruit, about an inch and a half long, of the size of a date and of dark-red colour, awakened the desire of the traveller; but having eaten a few, I found them, though sweet, rather mawkish.

Here too I first became acquainted with the troublesome nature of the “karéngia,” or Pennisetum distichum, which, together with the ant, is to the traveller in Central Africa his greatest and most constant inconvenience. It was just ripe, and the little burr-like seeds attached themselves to every part of my dress. It is quite necessary to be always provided with small pincers, in order to draw out from the fingers the little stings, which, if left in the skin, will cause sores. None even of the wild roving natives is ever without such an instrument. But it is not a useless plant; for, besides being the most nourishing food for cattle, it furnishes even man with a rather slight, but by no means tasteless food. Many of the Tuarek, from Bórnu as far as Timbúktu, subsist more or less upon the seeds of the Pennisetum distichum, which they call “úzak.” The drink made of it is certainly not bad, resembling in coolness the fúra or ghussub-water.

From the circumstance that our Kél-owí were here cutting grass for the camels, I concluded that the next part of our journey would lead through an entirely sterile tract; but though the herbage was here exuberant, it was not at all wanting further on. Having left the valley awhile to our right, we soon re-entered it, and crossed several beautiful branches of it very rich in vegetation. We then encamped on an open place beyond the southernmost branch, close to a cemetery of the Imghád who inhabit a small village to the east called Tawár Nwaijdúd, and further on some other villages, called Téndau, Tintabórak, and Emélloli. While, with the rest of our companions, we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the hard ground and under the open canopy of heaven, Hámma and Mohammed took up their quarters with the Imghád, and, according to their own statement on their return the following morning, were very hospitably treated, both by the male and female part of the inhabitants. As for the Imghád who live in these fertile valleys round Ágades, they are divided into numerous sections, of which I learnt the following names: the Ehér-heren, the Kél-chísem, the Taranaiji, the Edárreban, the Yowúswosan, the Efeléngeras, the Éheten, the Tariwáza, the Ihíngemángh, the Egemmén, the Edellén, the Kél-tédele, and the Ikóhanén.

Wednesday, October 9.—Our route led us over stony ground till we reached another favoured valley, called Tefárrakad, where, owing to the watercourse being divided into several branches, vegetation is spread over a larger space. Here, while our Kél-owí hung a little behind, two Imghád, mounted on camels, attached themselves to us and became rather troublesome; but they looked so famished and thin that they awakened pity rather than any other feeling, their dress and whole attire being of the poorest description. Further on, when we had left the valley and ascended rocky ground, we met a small caravan of the same mixed kind as our own troop—camels, bullocks, asses, and men on foot; they were returning to their village with provision of Negro millet, which they had bought in Ágades.

We had scarcely advanced three miles when we descended again into another long, beautiful hollow in the rocky ground, the valley Bóghel, which, besides a fine grove of dúm-trees, exhibits one very large and remarkable specimen of the tree called baure[11] in Háusa, a large ficus with ample fleshy leaves of beautiful green. This specimen, so far to the north, measured not less than twenty-six feet in circumference at the height of eight feet from the ground, and was certainly eighty feet high, with a full, widespreading crown. I scarcely remember afterwards to have seen in all Sudán a larger baure than this. Here, for the first time, I heard the Guinea-fowl (“táliat” or “tailelt” in Temashight, “zabó” in Háusa); for I did not see it, the birds keeping to the thick and impenetrable underwood which filled the intervals between the dúm-trees.

At noon the wood, which was rather more than half a mile in breadth, formed one continued and unbroken cluster of thicket, in the most picturesque state of wild luxuriance, while further on, where it became a little clearer of underwood, the ground was covered with a sort of wild melon; but my friend the blacksmith, who took up one of them and applied his teeth to it, threw it away with such a grimace that I rather suspect he mistook a colocynth, “jan-gunna,” for a melon, “gunna.” Numbers of the Asclepias gigantea, which never grows on a spot incapable of cultivation, bore testimony to the fertility of the soil, which was soon more clearly demonstrated by a small corn-field still under cultivation. Traces of former cultivation were evident on all sides. There can scarcely be the least doubt that these valleys, which were expressly left to the care of the degraded tribes or the Imghád, on condition of their paying from the produce a certain tribute to their masters, once presented a very different aspect; but when the power of the ruler of Ágades dwindled away to a shadow, and when the Imghád, who received from him their kaid or governor, “tágaza,” ceased to fear him, preferring robbery and pillage to the cultivation of the ground, these fine valleys were left to themselves, and relapsed into a wilderness.

We encamped at an early hour in the afternoon near the watercourse, but did not succeed in obtaining water by digging, so that we could not even cook a little supper. Further down the valley there had been a copious supply of water; and we had passed there a numerous caravan of asses near a large pool; but my companions, who were extremely negligent in this respect, would not then lay in a supply. Several Tuarek, or rather Imóshagh and Imghád, encamped around us for the night, and thus showed that we were approaching a centre of intercourse.

Thursday, October 10.—Owing to our want of water, we started at a very early hour, and, ascending gradually, after a little more than three miles, reached the height of the pebbly plateau on which the town of Ágades has been built. After having received several accounts of this naked “hammáda” or “ténere” stretching out to the distance of several days, I was agreeably surprised to find that it was by no means so dreary and monotonous as I had been led to expect, forming now and then shallow depressions a few feet only lower than the pebbly surface, and sometimes extending to a considerable distance, where plenty of herbage and middle-sized acacia were growing. The road was now becoming frequented, and my companions, with a certain feeling of pride, showed me in the distance the high “Mesállaje,” or minaret, the glory of Ágades. Having obtained a supply of water, and quenched our thirst, to my great astonishment we proceeded to encamp at half-past seven in the morning in one of these shallow hollows; and I learnt that we were to stay here the whole day till near sunset, in order to enter the town in the dark.

We were here met by two horsemen from Ágades (the son of the kádhi and a companion), who, I suppose, had come out on purpose to see us. They had a very chevaleresque look, and proved highly interesting to me, as they were the first horsemen I had seen in the country. The son of the kádhi, who was a fine, tall man, was well dressed in a tobe and trousers of silk and cotton; he carried only an iron spear besides his sword and dagger, but no shield. But for me the most interesting part of their attire was their stirrups, which are almost European in shape, but made of copper. Of this metal were made also the ornaments on the harness of their horses; their saddles also were very unlike what I had yet seen in these countries, and nearly the same as the old Arab saddle, which differs little from the English.

While encamped here, I bought from Hámma a black Sudán tobe, which, worn over another very large white tobe or shirt, and covered with a white bernús, gave me an appearance more suited to the country, while the stains of indigo soon made my complexion a few shades darker. This exterior accommodation to the custom of the natives my friend Hámma represented as essential for securing the success of my undertaking; and it had, besides, the advantage that it gave rise to the rumour that the Sultan of Ágades himself had presented me with this dress.

At length, when the sun was almost down, and when it was known that the Kél-gerés and Itísan (who had come to Ágades in very great numbers, in order to proceed on their journey to Bilma after the investiture of the new Sultan) had retreated to their encampments at some distance from the town, we started, and were soon met by several people, who came to pay their compliments to my companions. On entering the town, we passed through a half-deserted quarter, and at length reached the house of Ánnur, where we were to take up our abode. But arriving in a new place at night is never very pleasant, and must be still less so where there are no lamps; it therefore took us some time to make ourselves tolerably comfortable. But I was fortunate in receiving hospitable treatment from our travelling companion ʿAbd el Káder, who, being lodged in a chamber close to mine, sent me a well-prepared dish of kuskusu, made of Indian corn. I could not relish the rice sent by one of Ánnur’s wives, who resides here, owing to its not being seasoned with any salt, a practice to which I became afterwards more accustomed, but which rather astonished me in a country the entire trade of which consists in salt.

Having spread my mat and carpet on the floor, I slept well, in the pleasing consciousness of having successfully reached this first object of my desires, and dreaming of the new sphere of inquiry on which I had entered.

---

Friday, October 11.—Early in the morning the whole body of people from Tawát who were residing in the place, ʿAbd el Káder at their head, paid me a visit. The Tawátíye are still, at the present time (like their forefathers more than three hundred years ago), the chief merchants in Ágades; and they are well adapted to the nature of this market, for, having but small means, and being more like pedlars or retail dealers, they sit quietly down with their little stock, and try to make the most of it by buying negro millet when it is cheap, and retailing it when it becomes dear. Speculation in grain is now the principal business transacted in Ágades, since the branches of commerce of which I shall speak further on, and which once made the place rich and important, have been diverted into other channels. Here I will only remark that it is rather curious that the inhabitants of Tawát, though enterprising travellers, never become rich. Almost all the money with which they trade belongs to the people of Ghadámes; and their profits only allow them to dress and live well, of which they are very fond. Till recently, the Kél-owí frequented the market of Tawát, while they were excluded from those of Ghát and Múrzuk; but at present the contrary takes place, and, while they are admitted in the two latter places, Tawát has been closed against them.

Several of these Tawátíye were about to return to their native country, and were anxiously seeking information as to the time when the caravan of the Sakomáren, which had come to Tin-téllust, intended to start on their return journey, as they wished to go in their company. Among them was a man of the name of ʿAbdallah, with whom I became afterwards very intimate, and obtained from him a great deal of information. He was well acquainted with that quarter of the African continent which lies between Tawát, Timbúktu, and Ágades, having been six times to Ágades and five times to Timbúktu, and was less exacting than the mass of his countrymen. The most interesting circumstance which I learnt from them to-day was the identity of the Emgédesi language with that of Timbúktu, a fact of which I had no previous idea, thinking that the Háusa language, as it was the vulgar tongue of the whole of Asben, was the indigenous language of the natives of Ágades. But about this most interesting fact I shall say more afterwards.

When the Tawátíye were about to go away, Ámagay, or Mággi, as he is generally called, the chief eunuch of the Sultan, came; and I was ordered by my Kél-owí companions, who had put on all their finery, to make myself ready to pay a visit to the Sultan. Throwing, therefore, my white heláli bernús over my black tobe, and putting on my richly ornamented Ghadámsi shoes, which formed my greatest finery, I took up the letters and the treaty, and solicited the aid of my servant Mohammed to assist me in getting it signed; but he refused to perform any such service, regarding it as a very gracious act on his part that he went with me at all.

The streets and the market-places were still empty when we went through them, which left upon me the impression of a deserted place of bygone times; for even in the most important and central quarters of the town most of the dwelling-houses were in ruins. Some meat was lying ready for sale, and a bullock was tied to a stake, while numbers of large vultures, distinguished by their long naked neck, of reddish colour, and their dirty-greyish plumage, were sitting on the pinnacles of the crumbling walls, ready to pounce upon any kind of offal. These natural scavengers I afterwards found to be the constant inhabitants of all the market-places, not only in this town, but in all places in the interior. Directing our steps by the high watch-tower, which, although built only of clay and wood, yet, on account of its contrast to the low dwelling-houses around, forms a conspicuous object, we reached the gate which leads into the palace or fáda, a small separate quarter, with a large, irregular courtyard, and from twenty to twenty-five larger and smaller dwellings. Even these were partly in ruins; and one or two wretched conical cottages built of reeds and grass, in the midst of them, showed anything but a regard to cleanliness. The house, however, in which the Sultan himself dwelt proved to have been recently repaired, and had a neat and orderly appearance; the wall was nicely polished, and the gate newly covered in with boards made of the stem of the dúm-tree, and furnished with a door of the same material.

We seated ourselves apart, on the right side of a vestibule, which, as is the case of all the houses of this place, is separated from the rest of the room by a low balustrade, about ten inches high, and in this shape:

Meanwhile, Mággi had announced us to his Majesty, and, coming back, conducted us into the adjoining room, where he had taken his seat. It was separated from the vestibule by a very heavy wooden door, and was far more decent than I had expected. It was about forty or fifty feet in every direction, the rather low roof being supported by two short and massive columns of clay, slightly decreasing in thickness towards the top, and furnished with a simple abacus, over which one layer of large boards was placed in the breadth, and two in the depth of the room, sustaining the roof, formed of lighter boards. These are covered in with branches, over which mats are spread, the whole being completed with a layer of clay. At the lower end of the room, between the two columns, was a heavy door giving access into the interior of the house, while a large opening on either side admitted the light.

ʿAbd el Káderi, the son of the Sultan el Bákiri, was seated between the column to the right and the wall, and appeared to be a tolerably stout man, with large, benevolent features, as far as the white shawl wound around his face would allow us to perceive. The white colour of the lithám, and that of his shirt, which was of grey hue, together with his physiognomy, at once announced him as not belonging to the Tuarek race. Having saluted him one after the other, we took our seats at some distance opposite to him, when, after having asked Hámma some complimentary questions with regard to the old chief, he called me to come near to him, and in a very kind manner entered into conversation with me, asking me about the English nation, of which, notwithstanding all their power, he had, in his retired spot, never before heard, not suspecting that “English powder” was derived from them.

After explaining to him how the English, although placed at such an immense distance, wished to enter into friendly relations with all the chiefs and great men on the earth, in order to establish peaceable and legitimate intercourse with them, I delivered to him Ánnur’s and Mr. Richardson’s letters, and begged him to forward another letter to ʿAlíyu, the Sultan of Sókoto, wherein we apologized for our incapability, after the heavy losses and the many extortions we had suffered, of paying him at present a visit in his capital, expressing to ʿAbd el Káder, at the same time, how unjustly we had been treated by tribes subject to his dominion, who had deprived us of nearly all the presents we were bringing with us for himself and the other princes of Sudán. While expressing his indignation on this account, and regretting that I should not be able to go on directly to Sókoto, whither he would have sent me with the greatest safety, in company with the salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés, and at the same time giving vent to his astonishment that, although young, I had already performed journeys so extensive, he dismissed us, after we had placed before him the parcel containing the presents destined for him. The whole conversation, not only with me, but also with my companions, was in the Háusa language. I should have liked to have broached to him the treaty at once, but the moment was not favourable.

On the whole, I look upon ʿAbd el Káder as a man of great worth, though devoid of energy. All the people assured me that he was the best of the family to which the Sultan of Ágades belongs. He had been already Sultan before, but, a few years ago, was deposed, in order to make way for Hámed eʾ Rufäy, whom he again succeeded; but in 1853, while I was in Sókoto, he was once more compelled to resign in favour of the former.

While returning with my companions to our lodging, we met six of Bóro’s sons, among whom our travelling companion Háj ʿAli was distinguished for his elegance. They were going to the palace in order to perform their office as “fadáwa-n-serkí” (royal courtiers), and were very complaisant when they were informed that I had been graciously received by his Majesty. Having heard from them that Bóro, since his return, had been ill with fever, I took the opportunity to induce my followers to accompany me on a visit to him. Mohammed Bóro has a nice little house for a town like Ágades, situated on the small area called Erárar-n-sákan, or “the Place of the Young Camels.” It is shown in the accompanying sketch. The house itself consists of two storeys, and furnishes a good specimen of the better houses of the town; its interior was nicely whitewashed. Bóro, who was greatly pleased with our visit, received us in a very friendly manner, and when we left accompanied us a long way down the street. Though he holds no office at present, he is nevertheless a very important personage, not only in Ágades, but even in Sókoto, where he is regarded as the wealthiest merchant. He has a little republic of his own (like the venerable patriarchs), of not less than about fifty sons, with their families; but he still possesses such energy and enterprise that in 1854 he was about to undertake another pilgrimage to Mekka.

When I had returned to my quarters, Mággi brought me, as an acknowledgment of my presents, a fat, large-sized ram from ʿAbd el Káder, which was an excellent proof that good meat can be got here. There is a place called Aghíllad, three or four days’ journey west from Ágades, which is said to be very rich in cattle. On this occasion I gave to the influential eunuch, for himself, an aliyáfu, or subéta, a white shawl with a red border. In the afternoon I took another walk through the town, first to the Erázar-n-sákan, which, though it had been quiet in the morning, exhibited now a busy scene, about fifty camels being offered for sale, most of them very young, and the older ones rather indifferent. But while the character of the article for sale could not be estimated very high, that of the men employed in the business of the market attracted my full attention.

They were tall men, with broad, coarse features, very different from any I had seen before, and with long hair hanging down upon their shoulders and over their face, in a way which is an abomination to the Tuarek; but upon inquiry I learnt that they belonged to the tribe of the Ighdalén, or Éghedel, a very curious mixed tribe of Berber and Sónghay blood, and speaking the Sónghay language. The mode of buying and selling, also, was very peculiar; for the price was neither fixed in dollars, nor in shells, but either in merchandise of various descriptions, such as calico, shawls, tobes, or in Negro millet, which is the real standard of the market of Ágades at the present time, while, during the period of its prime, it was apparently the gold of Gágho. This way of buying or selling is called “kárba.” There was a very animated scene between two persons, and to settle the dispute it was necessary to apply to the “serki-n-káswa,” who for every camel sold in the market receives three “réjel.”

From this place we went to the vegetable-market, or “káswa-n-delélti,”[12] which was but poorly supplied, only cucumbers and molukhia (or Corchorus olitorius) being procurable in considerable plenty. Passing thence to the butchers’ market, we found it very well supplied, and giving proof that the town was not yet quite deserted, although some strangers were just gathering for the installation of the Sultan, as well as for the celebration of the great holiday, the ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja. I will only observe that this market (from its name, “káswa-n-rákoma,” or “yóbu yoëwoëni”) seems evidently to have been formerly the market where full-grown camels were sold. We then went to the third market, called katánga, where, in a sort of hall supported by the stems of the dúm-tree, about six or seven women were exhibiting, on a sort of frame, a variety of small things, such as beads and necklaces, sandals, small oblong tin boxes such as the Kél-owí wear for carrying charms, small leather boxes of the shape here represented, but of all possible sizes, from the diameter of an inch to as much as six inches. They are very neatly made, in different colours, and are used for tobacco, perfumes, and other purposes, and are called “botta.” I saw here also a very nice plate of copper, which I wanted to buy the next day, but found that it was sold. A donkey-saddle, “ákomar,” and a camel-saddle, or “kíri,” were exposed for sale. The name “katánga” serves, I think, to explain the name by which the former (now deserted) capital of Yóruba is generally known; I mean Katúnga, which name is given to it only by the Háusa and other neighbouring tribes.

I then went, with Mohammed “the Foolish” and another Kél-owí, to a shoemaker who lived in the south-western quarter of the town, and I was greatly surprised to find here Berbers as artisans; for even if the shoemaker was an Ámghi, and not a free Amóshagh (though from his frank and noble bearing I had reason to suspect the latter), at least he understood scarcely a word of Háusa, and all the conversation was carried on in Uraghíye. He and his assistants were busy in making neat sandals; and a pair of very handsome ones, which indeed could not be surpassed, either in neatness or in strength, by the best that are made in Kanó, were just ready, and formed the object of a long and unsuccessful bargaining. The following day, however, Mohammed succeeded in obtaining them for a mithkál. My shoes formed a great object of curiosity for these Emgédesi shoemakers, and they confessed their inability to produce anything like them. On returning to our quarters we met several horsemen, with whom I was obliged to enter into a longer conversation than I liked, in the streets. I now observed that several of them were armed with the bow and arrow instead of the spear. Almost all the horses are dressed with the “karaúrawa” (strings of small bells attached to their heads), which make a great noise, and sometimes create a belief that a great host is advancing, when there are only a few of these horsemen. The horses in general were in indifferent condition, though of tolerable size; of course they are ill fed, in a place where grain is comparatively dear. The rider places only his great toe in the stirrup, the rest of the foot remaining outside.

The occurrences of the day were of so varied a nature, opening to me a glance into an entirely new region of life, that I had ample material for my evening’s meditation, when I lay stretched out on my mat before the door of my dark and close room. Nor was my bodily comfort neglected, the Sultan being so kind and attentive as to send me a very palatable dish of “finkáso,” a sort of thick pancake made of wheat, and well buttered, which, after the unpalatable food I had had in Tintéllust, appeared to me the greatest luxury in the world.

Saturday, October 12.—Having thus obtained a glance into the interior of the town, I was anxious to get a view of the whole of it, and ascending, the following morning, the terrace of our house, obtained my object entirely, the whole town being spread out before my eyes, with the exception of the eastern quarter. The town is built on a level, which is only interrupted by small hills formed of rubbish heaped up in the midst of it by the negligence of the people. Excepting these, the line formed by the flat-terraced houses is interrupted only by the mesállaje (which formed my basis for laying down the plan of the town), besides about fifty or fifty-five dwellings raised to two storeys, and by three dúm-trees and five or six talha-trees. Our house also had been originally provided with an upper storey, or rather with a single garret—for generally the upper storey consists of nothing else; but it had yielded to time, and only served to furnish amusement to my foolish friend Mohammed, who never failed, when he found me on the terrace, to endeavour to throw me down the breach. Our old close-handed friend Ánnur did not seem to care much for the appearance of his palace in the town, and kept his wife here on rather short allowance. By-and-by, as I went every day to enjoy this panorama, I was able to make a faithful view of the western quarter of the town as seen from hence, which gives a more exact idea of the place than any verbal description could do.

About noon the amanókal sent his musicians to honour me and my companions with a performance; they were four or five in number, and were provided with the instruments usual in Sudán, in imitation of the Arabs. More interesting was the performance of a single “maimólo,” who visited us after we had honourably rewarded the royal musicians, and accompanied his play, on a three-stringed “mólo,” or guitar, with an extemporaneous song.

My companions then took me to the house of the kádhi, after having paid a short visit to the camel-market. The kádhi, or here rather alkáli, who lives a little south-west from the mosque, in a house entirely detached on all sides, was sitting with the mufti in the vestibule of his dwelling, where sentence is pronounced, and after a few compliments, proceeded to hear the case of my companions, who had a law-suit against a native of the town, named Wá-n-seres, and evidently of Berber origin. Evidence was adduced to the effect that he had sold a she-camel which had been stolen from the Kél-owí, while he (the defendant) on his part proved that he had bought it from a man who swore that it was not a stolen camel. The pleas of both parties having been heard, the judge decided in favour of Wá-n-seres. The whole transaction was carried on in Temáshight, or rather in Uraghíye. Then came another party, and while their case was being heard we went out and sat down in front of the house, under the shade of a sort of verandah consisting of mats supported by long stakes, after which we took leave of the kádhi, who did not seem to relish my presence, and afterwards showed no very friendly feelings towards me.

While my lazy companions wanted to go home, I fortunately persuaded Mohammed, after much reluctance, to accompany me through the southern part of the town, where, lonely and deserted as it seemed to be, it was not prudent for me to go alone, as I might have easily got into some difficulty. My servant Amánkay was still quite lame with the guineaworm; and Mohammed, the Tunisian shushán, had reached such a pitch of insolence when he saw me alone among a fanatical population that I had given him up entirely. First, leaving the fáda to our right, we went out through the “kófa-n-Alkáli;” for here the walls, which have been swept away entirely on the east side of the town, have still preserved some degree of elevation, though in many places one may easily climb over them. On issuing from the gate I was struck with the desolate character of the country on this side of the town, though it was enlivened by women and slaves going to fetch water from the principal well (which is distant about half a mile from the gate), all the water inside the town being of bad quality for drinking. At some distance from the gate were the ruins of an extensive suburb called Ben Gottára, half covered with sand, and presenting a very sorry spectacle. It was my design to go round the southern part of the town; but my companion either was, or pretended to be, too much afraid of the Kél-gerés, whose encampment lay at no great distance from the walls. So we re-entered it, and followed the northern border of its deserted southern quarter, where only a few houses are still inhabited. Here I found three considerable pools of stagnant water, which had collected in deep hollows from whence, probably, the materials for building had been taken, though their form was a tolerably regular oval. They have each a separate name, the westernmost being called from the Masráta, who have given their name to the whole western quarter, as well as to a small gate still in existence; the next, southwards from the kófa-n-Alkáli, is called (in Emgedesíye) “Masráta-hogú-me,” for the three languages—the Temáshight or Tarkíye, the Góber or Háusa language, and the Sónghay- or Sonrhay-kini—are very curiously mixed together in the topography of this town, the natural consequence of the mixture of these three different national elements. This mixture of languages was well calculated to make the office of interpreter in this place very important, and the class of such men a very numerous one.

In the Masráta pool, which is the largest of the three, two horses were swimming, while women were busy washing clothes. The water has a strong taste of salt, which is also the case with two of the three wells still in use within the town. Keeping from the easternmost pool (which is called, like the whole quarter around, Terjemáne, from the interpreters whose dwellings were chiefly hereabout) a little more to the south-east, I was greatly pleased at finding among the ruins in the south-eastern quarter, between the quarters Akáfan árina and Imurdán, some very well-built and neatly polished houses, the walls of which were of so excellent workmanship that even after having been deprived of their roofs, for many years, perhaps, they had sustained scarcely any injury. One of them was furnished with ornamented niches, and by the remains of pipes, and the whole arrangement bore evident traces of warm baths. Music and song diverted us in the evening, while we rested on our mats in the different corners of our courtyard.

Sunday, October 13.—My Kél-owí companions regaled me with a string of dates from Fáshi, the westernmost oasis of the Tébu, or, as the Tuarek call them, Berauni. But instead of indulging myself in this luxury, I laid it carefully aside as a treat for my visitors, to whom I had (so small were my means at present) neither coffee nor sugar to offer. I then accompanied my friends once more to the Alkáli; but the litigation which was going on being tedious, I left them, and returned quite alone through the town, sitting down a moment with the Tawatíye, who generally met at the house of the Emgédesi Ídder, a sort of Tawáti agent and an intelligent man.

When I returned to our house I found there a very interesting young man of the tribe of the Ighdalén, with a round face, very regular and agreeable features, fine lively black eyes, and an olive complexion only a few shades darker than that of an Italian peasant. His hair was black, and about four inches long, standing upright, but cut away all round the ears, which gave it a still more bristling appearance. I hoped to see him again, but lost sight of him entirely. The Arabs call these people Arab-Tuarek, indicating that they are a mixed race between the Arab and Berber nation; and their complexion agrees well with this designation, but it is remarkable that they speak a Sónghay dialect. They possess scarcely anything except camels, and are regarded as a kind of Merábetín. I afterwards went to call upon our old friend Ánnur Karamí, from Aghwau, who had come to Ágades a day or two before us, and had accompanied me also on my visit to the Sultan. He lived, together with my amiable young friend the Tinýlkum Slimán, in the upper storey, or soro, of a house, and when I called was very busy selling fine Egyptian sheep-leather called kurna (which is in great request here, particularly that of a green colour) to a number of lively females, who are the chief artisans in leather-work. Some of them were of tolerably good appearance, with light complexion and regular Arab features. When the women were gone Ánnur treated me with fura or ghussub-water; and young Slimán, who felt some little remorse for not having been able to withstand the charms of the Emgédesíye coquettes, told me that he was about to marry a Ma-Ásbenchi girl, and that the wedding would be celebrated in a few days. As to the fura, people who eat or rather drink it together squat down round the bowl, where a large spoon, the “lúdde,” sometimes very neatly worked, goes round, everybody taking a spoonful and passing the spoon to his neighbour. On the previous page is a drawing of this drinking-spoon, as well as of the common spoon, both of ordinary workmanship.

The houses in Ágades do not possess all the conveniences which one would expect to find in houses in the north of Europe; but here, as in many Italian towns, the principle of the da per tutto, which astonished Göethe so much at Rivoli, on the Lago di Garda, is in full force, being greatly assisted by the many ruined houses which are to be found in every quarter of the town. But the free nomadic inhabitant of the wilderness does not like this custom, and rather chooses to retreat into the open spots outside the town. The insecurity of the country and the feuds generally raging oblige them still to congregate, even on such occasions. When they reach some conspicuous tree the spears are all stuck into the ground, and the party separates behind the bushes; after which they again meet together under the tree, and return in solemn procession into the town.

By making such little excursions I became acquainted with the shallow depressions which surround Ágades, and which are not without importance for the general relations of the town, while they afford fodder for any caravan visiting the market, and also supply the inhabitants with very good water. The name of the depression to the north is Tagúrast, that to the south-west Mérmeru; towards the south-east Amelúli, with a few kitchen-gardens; and another a little further on, south-south-east, Tésak-n-tálle; while at a greater distance, to the west, is Tára-bére (meaning “the wide area,” or plain, “babá-n-sarari”). Unfortunately, the dread my companions had of the Kél-gerés did not allow me to visit the valleys at a greater distance, the principal of which is that called el Hakhsás, inhabited by Imghád, and famous for its vegetable productions, with which the whole town is supplied.

Mohammed the Foolish succeeded in the evening in getting me into some trouble, which gave him great delight; for seeing that I took more than common interest in a national dance, accompanied with a song, which was going on at some distance east-north-east from our house, he assured me that Hámma was there, and had told him that I might go and join in their amusement. Unfortunately, I was too easily induced; and hanging only a cutlass over my shoulder, I went thither unaccompanied, sure of finding my protector in the merry crowd. It was about ten o’clock at night, the moon shining very brightly on the scene. Having first viewed it from some distance, I approached very near, in order to observe the motions of the dancers. Four young men, placed opposite to each other in pairs, were dancing with warlike motions, and, stamping the ground violently with the left foot, turned round in a circle, the motions being accompanied by the energetic clapping of hands of a numerous ring of spectators. It was a very interesting sight, and I should have liked to stay longer; but finding that Hámma was not present, and that all the people were young, and many of them buzawe, I followed the advice of ʿAbdu, one of Ánnur’s slaves, who was among the crowd, to withdraw as soon as possible. I had, however, retraced my steps but a short way when, with the war-cry of Islam, and drawing their swords, all the young men rushed after me. Being, however, a short distance in advance, and fortunately not meeting with any one in the narrow street, I reached our house without being obliged to make use of my weapon; but my friends the Kél-owí seeing me in trouble, had thrown the chain over the door of our house, and, with a malicious laugh, left me outside with my pursuers; so that I was obliged to draw my cutlass in order to keep them at bay, though, if they had made a serious attack, I should have fared ill enough with my short, blunt European weapon, against their long, sharp swords. I was rather angry with my barbarous companions, particularly with Mohammed, and when after a little delay they opened the door, I loaded my pistols and threatened to shoot the first man that troubled me. However, I soon felt convinced that the chief fault was my own; and in order to obliterate the bad impression which this little adventure was likely to make in the town, particularly as the great Mohammedan feast was at hand, which of course could not but strengthen greatly the prejudice against a Christian, I resolved to stay at home the next few days. This I could do the more easily as the terrace of our house allowed me to observe all that was going on in the place.

I therefore applied myself entirely for a few days to the study of the several routes which, with the assistance of ʿAbdallah, I had been able to collect from different people, and which will be given in the Appendix, and to the language of Ágades. For though I had left all my books behind at Tin-téllust, except that volume of “Prichard’s Researches” which treats of Africa, I had convinced myself, from the specimens which he gives of the language of Timbúktu, that the statement of my friends from Tawát with regard to the identity of the languages of the two places was quite correct, only with this qualification, that here this language had been greatly influenced by intercourse with the Berbers, from whom sundry words were borrowed, while the Arabic seemed to have had little influence beyond supplanting the numerals from 4 upwards. I was also most agreeably surprised and gratified to find this identity confirmed by the fact that the people of Ágades give the Tuarek in general the name under which that tribe of them which lives near Timbúktu and along the Niger had become known to Mungo Park in those quarters where the language of Timbúktu is spoken. This was indeed very satisfactory, as the native name of that powerful tribe is entirely different; for the Surka, as they are called by Mungo Park, are the same as the Awelímmiden, of whom I had already heard so much in Asben (the inhabitants of which country seemed to regard them with much dread), and with whom I was afterwards to enter into the most intimate relations.

While residing in Ágades I was not yet aware of all the points of information which I have been able to collect in the course of my travels, and I was at a loss to account for the identity of language in places so widely separated from each other by immense tracts of desert, and by countries which seemed to have been occupied by different races. But while endeavouring, in the further course of my journey, to discover as far as possible the history of the nations with whom I had to deal, I found the clue for explaining this apparently marvellous phenomenon, and shall lay it before my readers in the following chapter. To the Tawáti ʿAbdallah I was indebted for information on a variety of interesting matters, which I found afterwards confirmed in every respect. In a few points his statements were subject to correction, and still more to improvement, but in no single case did I find that he had deviated from the truth. I state this deliberately, in order to show that care must be taken to distinguish between information collected systematically by a native enjoying the entire confidence of his informant, and who, from his knowledge of the language and the subject about which he inquires, is able to control his informant’s statements, and that which is picked up incidentally by one who scarcely knows what he asks.

But to return to my diary, the visits paid me by the other people of Tawát became less frequent, as I had no coffee to treat them with; but I was rather glad of this circumstance, as my time was too short for labouring in that wide field of new information which opened before me, and it was necessary to confine myself at present to narrower limits. In this respect I was extremely fortunate in having obeyed my impulse to visit this place, which, however desolate it may appear to the traveller who first enters it, is still the centre of a large circle of commercial intercourse, while Tin-téllust is nothing but a small village, important merely from the character of the chief who resides in it, and where even those people who know a little about the country are afraid to communicate that very little. I would advise any traveller who should hereafter visit this country to make a long stay in this place, if he can manage to do so in comfort; for I am sure that there still remains to be collected in Ágades a store of the most valuable and interesting information.

In the afternoon of the 15th of October (the eve of the great holiday) ten chiefs of the Kél-gerés, on horseback, entered the town, and towards evening news was brought that Astáfidet, the chief of the Kél-owí residing in Ásodi, was not far off, and would make his solemn entry early in the morning. My companions, therefore, were extremely busy in getting ready and cleaning their holiday dress, or “yadó,” and Hámma could not procure tassels enough to adorn his high red cap, in order to give to his short figure a little more height. Poor fellow! he was really a good man, and one of the best of the Kél-owí; and the news of his being killed, in the sanguinary battle which was fought between his tribe and the Kél-gerés in 1854, grieved me not a little. In the evening there were singing and dancing (“wargi” and “wása”) all over the town, and all the people were merry except the followers of Mákita, or Ímkiten, “the Pretender,” and the Sultan ʿAbd el Káder was obliged to imprison three chiefs of the Itísan, who had come to urge Mákita’s claims.

It was on this occasion that I learnt that the mighty King of Ágades had not only a common prison, “gida-n-damré,” wherein he might confine the most haughty chiefs, but that he even exercised over them the power of life and death, and that he dispensed the favours of a terrible dungeon, bristling with swords and spears standing upright, upon which he was authorized to throw any distinguished malefactor. This latter statement, of the truth of which I had some doubt, was afterwards confirmed to me by the old chief Ánnur. In any case, however, such a cruel punishment cannot but be extremely rare.

Wednesday, October 16.—The 10th of Dhú el kádhi, 1266, was the first day of the great festival ʿAid el kebír, or Salla-léja (the feast of the sacrifice of the sheep), which in these regions is the greatest holiday of the Mohammedans, and was in this instance to have a peculiar importance and solemnity for Agades, as the installation of ʿAbd el Káder, who had not yet publicly assumed the government, was to take place the same day. Early in the morning, before daylight, Hámma and his companions left the house and mounted their camels, in order to pay their compliments to Astáfidet, and join him in his procession; and about sunrise the young chief entered and went directly to the “fáda,” at the head of from two hundred to three hundred Mehára, having left the greater number of his troop, which was said to amount to about two thousand men, outside the town.

Then, without much ceremony or delay, the installation, or “sarauta” of the new Sultan took place. The ceremonial was gone through inside the fáda, but this was the procedure: First of all, ʿAbd el Káder was conducted from his private apartments to the public hall. Then the chiefs of the Itísan and Kél-gerés, who went in front, begged him to sit down upon the “gadó,” a sort of couch or divan made of the leaves of the palm-tree, or of the branches of other trees, similar to the angaríb used in Egypt and the lands of the Upper Nile, and covered with mats and a carpet. Upon this the new Sultan sat down, resting his feet on the ground, not being allowed to put them upon the gadó, and recline in the Oriental style, until the Kél-owí desired him to do so. Such is the ceremony, symbolical of the combined participation of these different tribes in the investiture of their Sultan.

This ceremony being concluded, the whole holiday procession left the palace on its way to a chapel of a merábet called Sídi Hammáda, in Tára-bére, outside the town, where, according to an old custom, the prince was to say his prayers. This is a rule prevailing over the whole of Mohammedan Africa, and one which I myself witnessed in some of the most important of its capitals—in Ágades, in Kúkawa, in Más-eña, in Sókoto, and in Timbúktu; everywhere the principle is the same. Not deeming it prudent on such an occasion to mix with the people, I witnessed the whole procession from the terrace of our house, though I should have liked to have had a nearer view. The procession having taken its course through the most important quarter of the town, and through the market-places, turned round from the “káswa-n-delélti” to the oldest quarter of the town, and then returned westward, till at last it reached the above-mentioned chapel or tomb of Sídi Hammáda, where there is a small cemetery. The prayers being finished, the procession returned by the southern part of the town, and about ten o’clock the different parties which had composed the cortège separated.

In going as well as in returning the order of the procession was as follows: In front of all, accompanied by the musicians, rode the Sultan, on a very handsome horse of Tawáti breed, wearing, over his fine Sudán robe of coloured cotton and silk, the blue bernús I had presented to him, and wearing on his side a handsome scimitar with gold handle. Next to him rode the two sáraki-n-turáwa—Bóro, the ex-serki, on his left, and Ashu, who held the office at the time, on his right—followed by the “fádawa-n-serki,” after whom came the chiefs of the Itísan and Kél-gerés, all on horseback, in full dress and armour, with their swords, daggers, long spears, and immense shields.

Then came the longer train of the Kél-owí, mostly on mehára, or swift camels, with Sultan Astáfidet at their head; and last of all followed the people of the town, a few on horseback, but most of them on foot, and armed with swords and spears, and several with bows and arrows. The people were all dressed in their greatest finery, and it would have formed a good subject for an artist. It recalled the martial processions of the Middle Ages, the more so as the high caps of the Tuarek, surrounded by a profusion of tassels on every side, together with the black “tesílgemist,” or lithám, which covers the whole face, leaving nothing but the eyes visible, and the shawls wound over this and round the cap, combine to imitate the shape of the helmet, while the black and coloured tobes (over which on such occasions the principal people wear a red bernús thrown across their shoulders) represent very well the heavier dress of the knights of yore. I will only add that the fact of the Sultan wearing on so important and solemn an occasion a robe which had been presented to him by a stranger and a Christian had a powerful influence on the tribes collected here, and spread a beneficial report far westward over the desert.

Shortly after the procession was over, the friendly Haj ʿAbdúwa, who, after he had parted from us in Eghellál, had attached himself to the troop of Astáfidet, came to pay me a visit. He was now tolerably free from fever, but begged for some Epsom salts, besides a little gunpowder. He informed me that there was much sickness in the town, that from two to three people died daily, and that even Astáfidet was suffering from the prevalent disease. This was the small-pox, a very fatal disease in Central Africa, against which, however, several of the native Pagan tribes secure themselves by inoculation, a precaution from which Mohammedans are withheld by religious prejudice. I then received a visit from the sons of Bóro, in their official character as “fádawa-n-serki.” They wished to inform themselves, apparently, with reference to my adventure the other night, whether the townspeople behaved well towards me; and I was prudent enough to tell them that I had nothing to complain of, my alarm having been the consequence of my own imprudence. In fact the people behaved remarkably well, considering that I was the first Christian that ever visited the town; and the little explosions of fanaticism into which the women and children sometimes broke out, when they saw me on our terrace, rather amused me. During the first days of my residence in Ágades they most probably took me for a Pagan or a Polytheist, and cried after me the confessional words of Islam, laying all the stress upon the word Allah, “the One God;” but after a few days, when they had learnt that I likewise worshipped the Deity, they began to emphasize the name of their Prophet.

There was held about sunset a grave and well-attended divan of all the chiefs, to consult with respect to a “yáki,” or “égehen,” a ghazzia to be undertaken against the Mehárebín or freebooters of the Awelímmiden. While we were still in Tin-téllust the rumour had spread of an expedition undertaken by the latter tribe against Aïr, and the people were all greatly excited. For the poor Kél-owí, who have degenerated from their original vigour and warlike spirit by their intermixture with the black population and by their peaceable pursuits, are not less afraid of the Awelímmiden than they are of the Kél-gerés; and old Ánnur himself used to give me a dreadful description of that tribe, at which I afterwards often laughed heartily with the very people whom he intended to depict to me as monsters. By way of consoling us for the losses we had sustained, and the ill-treatment we had experienced from the people of Aïr, he told us that among the Awelímmiden we should have been exposed to far greater hardships, as they would not have hesitated to cut the tent over our heads into pieces, in order to make shirts of it. The old chief’s serious speeches had afterwards the more comical effect upon me as the tent alluded to, a common English marquee, mended as it was with cotton strips of all the various fashions of Negroland, constantly formed a subject of the most lively scientific dispute among those barbarians, who, not having seen linen before, were at a loss to make out of what stuff it was originally made. But, unluckily, I had not among the Kél-owí such a steadfast protector and mediator and so sensible a friend as I had when, three years later, I went among the Awelímmiden, who would certainly have treated me in another way if I had fallen into their hands unprotected.

The old and lurking hostility amongst the Kél-owí and Kél-gerés, which was at this very moment threatening an outbreak, had been smoothed down by the influential and intelligent chief Sídi Ghalli el Háj Ánnur (properly Eʾ Núr), one of the first men in Ágades; and those tribes had sworn to forget their private animosities, in order to defend themselves against, and revenge themselves upon, their common enemy the Awelímmiden. Hámma was very anxious to get from me a good supply of powder for Sídi Ghalli, who was to be the leader of the expedition; but I had scarcely any with me. While I was reclining in the evening rather mournfully upon my mat, not having been out of the house these last few days, the old friendly blacksmith came up, and invited me to a promenade, and with the greatest pleasure I acceded to the proposal. We left the town by the eastern side, the moon shining brightly, and throwing her magic light over the ruins of this once wealthy abode of commerce. Turning then a little south, we wandered over the pebbly plain till the voices heard from the encampment of the Kél-gerés frightened my companion, and we turned more northwards to the wells in Amelúli; having rested here awhile, we returned to our quarters.

Thursday, October 17.—Ánnur karamí, our amiable and indolent attendant, left this place for Tin-téllust with a note which I wrote to my colleagues, informing them of my safe arrival, my gracious reception, and the general character of the place. To-day the whole town was in agitation in consequence of one of those characteristic events which, in a place like Ágades, serve to mark the different periods of the year; for here a man can do nothing singly, but all must act together. The salt-caravan of the Itísan and Kél-gerés had collected, mustering, I was told, not less than ten thousand camels, and had encamped in Mérmeru and Tesak-n-tállem, ready to start for the salt-mines of Bilma, along a road which will be indicated further on. However exaggerated the number of the camels might be, it was certainly a very large caravan, and a great many of the inhabitants went out to settle their little business with the men, and take leave of their friends. Ghámbelu, the chief of the Itísan, very often himself accompanies this expedition, in which also many of the Tagáma take a part.

In the course of the day I had a rather curious conversation with a man from Táfidet, the native place of Háj ʿAbdúwa. After exchanging compliments with me, he asked me, abruptly, whether I always knew where water was to be found; and when I told him that though I could not exactly say in every case at what depth water was to be found, yet that, from the configuration of the ground, I should be able to tell the spot where it was most likely to be met with, he asked whether I had seen rock inscriptions on the road from Ghát; and I answered him that I had, and generally near watering-places. He then told me that I was quite right, but that in Táfidet there were many inscriptions upon rocks at a distance from water. I told him that perhaps at an earlier period water might have been found there, or that the inscriptions might have been made by shepherds; but this he thought very improbable, and persisted in his opinion that these inscriptions indicated ancient sepulchres, in which, probably, treasures were concealed. I was rather surprised at the philosophical conclusions at which this barbarian had arrived, and conjectured, as was really the case, that he had accompanied Háj ʿAbdúwa on his pilgrimage and on his passage through Egypt, and had there learned to make some archæological observations. He affected to believe that I was able to read the inscriptions, and tell all about the treasures; but I assured him that while he was partially right with regard to the inscriptions, he was quite wrong so far as regarded the treasures, as these rock inscriptions, so far as I was able to decipher them, indicated only names. But I was rather sorry that I did not myself see the inscriptions of which this man spoke, as I had heard many reports about them which had excited my curiosity, and I had even sent the little Fezzáni Fáki Makhlúk expressly to copy them, who, however, brought me back only an illegible scrawl.

Friday, October 18.—The last day of the Salla-léja was a merry day for the lower class of the inhabitants, but a serious one for the men of influence and authority; and many councils were held, one of them in my room. I then received a visit from a sister’s son of the Sultan, whose name was Alkáli, a tall, gentlemanlike man, who asked me why I did not yet leave Ágades and return to Tin-téllust. It seemed that he suspected me of waiting till the Sultan had made me a present in return for that received by him; but I told him that, though I wished ʿAbd el Káder to write me a letter for my Sultan, which would guarantee the safety of some future traveller belonging to our tribe, I had no further business here, but was only waiting for Hámma, who had not yet finished his bartering for provisions. He had seen me sketching on the terrace, and was somewhat inquisitive about what I had been doing there; but I succeeded in directing his attention to the wonderful powers of the pencil, with which he became so delighted that when I gave him one he begged another from me, in order that they might suffice for his lifetime.

Interesting also was the visit of Háj Beshír, the wealthy man of Iferwán whom I have already mentioned repeatedly, and who is an important personage in the country of Aïr. Unfortunately, instead of using his influence to facilitate our entrance into the country, his son had been among the chief leaders of the expedition against us. Though not young, he was lively and social, and asked me whether I should not like to marry some nice Emgedesíye girl. When he was gone I took a long walk through the town with Hámma, who was somewhat more communicative to-day than usual; but his intelligence was not equal to his energy and personal courage, which had been proved in many a battle. He had been often wounded, and having in the last skirmish received a deep cut on his head, he had made an enormous charm, which was generally believed to guarantee him from any further wound; and in fact, if the charm were to receive the blow, it would not be altogether useless, for it was a thick book. But his destiny was written.

There was a rather amusing episode in the incidents of the day. The ex-Sultan Hámed eʾ Rufäy, who had left many debts behind him, sent ten camel-loads of provisions and merchandise to be divided among his creditors; but a few Tuarek to whom he owed something seized the whole, so that the other poor people never obtained a farthing. To-day the great salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés and Itísan really started.

Saturday, October 19.—Hámma and his companions were summoned to a council which was to decide definitively in what quarter the arm of justice, now raised in wrath, was to strike the first blow; and it was resolved that the expedition should first punish the Imghád, the Ikázkezan, and Fádë-ang. The officer who made the proclamation through the town was provided with a very rude sort of drum, which was, in fact, nothing but an old barrel covered with a skin.

Sunday, October 20.—The most important event in the course of the day was a visit which I received from Mohammed Bóro, our travelling companion from Múrzuk, with his sons. It was the best proof of his noble character, that before we separated perhaps never to meet again, he came to speak with me, and to explain our mutual relations fairly. He certainly could not deny that he had been extremely angry with us; and I could not condemn him on this account, for he had been treated ignominiously. While Mr. Gagliuffi told him that we were persuaded that the whole success of our proceedings lay in his hands, he had been plainly given to understand that we set very little value on his services. Besides, he had sustained some heavy losses on the journey, and by waiting for us had consumed the provisions which he had got ready for the march.

Although an old man, he was first going with the expedition, after which he intended accompanying the caravan of the Kél-gerés to Sókoto with his whole family; for Sókoto is his real home. The salt-caravan and the company of this man offered a splendid opportunity for reaching that place in safety and by the most direct road; but our means did not allow of such a journey, and after all it was better, at least for myself, that it was not undertaken, since, as matters went, it was reserved for me, before I traced my steps towards the western regions, to discover the upper navigable course of the eastern branch of the so-called Niger, and make sundry other important discoveries. Nevertheless, Bóro expressed his hope of seeing me again in Sókoto, and his wish might easily have been accomplished. He certainly must have been, when in the vigour of life, a man, in the full sense of the word, and well deserved the praise of the Emgedesíye, who have a popular song beginning with the words, “Ágades has no men but Bóro and Dahámmi.” I now also became aware why he had many enemies in Múrzuk, who unfortunately succeeded in making Gagliuffi believe that he had no authority whatever in his own country; for as serki-n-turáwa he had to levy the tax of ten mithkáls on every camel-load of merchandise, and this he is said to have done with some degree of severity. After a long conversation on the steps of the terrace, we parted, the best possible friends.

Not so pleasant to me, though not without interest, was the visit of another great man—Belróji, the támberi or war-chieftain of the Ighólar Im-esághlar. He was still in his prime, but my Kél-owí (who were always wrangling like children) got up a desperate fight with him in my very room, which was soon filled with clouds of dust; and the young Slimán entered during the row, and joining in it, it became really frightful. The Kél-owí were just like children; when they went out they never failed to put on all their finery, which they threw off as soon as they came within doors, resuming their old dirty clothes.

It was my custom in the afternoon, when the sun had set behind the opposite buildings, to walk up and down in front of our house; and while so doing to-day I had a long conversation with two chiefs of the Itísan on horseback, who came to see me, and avowed their sincere friendship and regard. They were fine, tall men, but rather slim, with a noble expression of countenance and of light colour. Their dress was simple but handsome, and arranged with great care. All the Tuarek, from Ghát as far as Háusa, and from Alákkos to Timbúktu, are passionately fond of the tobes and trousers called “tailelt” (the Guinea-fowl), or “fílfil” (the pepper), on account of their speckled colour. They are made of silk and cotton interwoven, and look very neat. The lowest part of the trousers, which forms a narrow band about two inches broad, closing rather tightly, is embroidered in different colours. None of the Tuarek of pure blood would, I think, degrade themselves by wearing on their head the red cap.

Monday, October 21.—Early in the morning I went with Hámma to take leave of the Sultan, who had been too busy for some days to favour me with an audience; and I urged my friend to speak of the treaty though I was myself fully aware of the great difficulty which so complicated a paper, written in a form entirely unknown to the natives, and which must naturally be expected to awaken their suspicion, would create, and of the great improbability of its being signed while the Sultan was pressed with a variety of business. On the way to the fáda we met Áshu, the present serki-n-turáwa, a large-sized man, clad in an entirely white dress, which may not improbably be a sign of his authority over the white men (Turáwa). He is said to be a very wealthy man. He replied to my compliments with much kindness, entered into conversation with me about the difference of our country and theirs, and ordered one of his companions to take me to a small garden which he had planted near his house in the midst of the town, in order to see what plants we had in common with them. Of course there was nothing like our plants; and my cicerone conceived rather a poor idea of our country when he heard that all the things which they had we had not—neither senna, nor bamia, nor indigo, nor cotton, nor Guinea-corn, nor, in short, the most beautiful of all trees of the creation, as he thought—the talha, or Mimosa ferruginea; and he seemed rather incredulous when told that we had much finer plants than they.

We then went to the fáda. The Sultan seemed quite ready for starting. He was sitting in the courtyard of his palace, surrounded by a multitude of people and camels, while the loud murmuring noise of a number of schoolboys who were learning the Kurán proceeded from the opposite corner, and prevented my hearing the conversation of the people. The crowd and the open locality were, of course, not very favourable to my last audience, and it was necessarily a cold one. Supported by Hámma, I informed the Sultan that I expected still to receive a letter from him to the Government under whose auspices I was travelling, expressive of the pleasure and satisfaction he had felt in being honoured with a visit from one of the mission, and that he would gladly grant protection to any future traveller who should happen to visit his country. The Sultan promised that such a letter should be written; however, the result proved that either he had not quite understood what I meant, or, what is more probable, that in his precarious situation he felt himself not justified in writing to a Christian government, especially as he had received no letter from it.

When I had returned to my quarters, Hámma brought me three letters, in which ʿAbd el Káder recommended my person and my luggage to the care of the Governors of Kanó, Kátsena, and Dáura, and which were written in rather incorrect Arabic, and in nearly the same terms. They were as follows:—

These letters were all sealed with the seal of the Sultan.

Hámma showed me also another letter which he had received from the Sultan, and which I think interesting enough to be here inserted, as it is a faithful image of the turbulent state of the country at that time, and as it contains the simple expression of the sincere and just proceedings of the new Sultan. Its purport was as follows, though the language in which it is written is so incorrect that several passages admit of different interpretations:—

The whole population was in alarm, and everybody who was able to bear arms prepared for the expedition. About sunset the “égehen” left the town, numbering about four hundred men, partly on camels, partly on horseback, besides the people on foot. Bóro as well as Áshu accompanied the Sultan, who this time was himself mounted on a camel. They went to take their encampment near that of Astáfidet, in Tagúrast, ʿAbd el Káder pitching a tent of grey colour, and in size like that of a Turkish aghá, in the midst of the Kél-gerés, the Kél-ferwán, and the Emgedesíye; while Astáfidet, who had no tent, was surrounded by the Kél-owí. The Sultan was kind and attentive enough not to forget me even now; and having heard that I had not yet departed, Hámma not having finished his business in the town, he sent me some wheat, a large botta with butter and vegetables (chiefly melons and cucumbers), and the promise of another sheep.

In the evening the drummer again went his rounds through the town, proclaiming the strict order of the Sultan that everybody should lay in a large supply of provisions. Although the town in general had become very silent when deserted by so many people, our house was kept in constant bustle, and in the course of the night three mehára came from the camp, with people who could get no supper there, and sought it with us. Bóro sent a messenger to me early the next morning, urgently begging for a little powder, as the “Mehárebín” of the Imghád had sent off their camels and other property, and were determined to resist the army of the Sultan. However, I could send him but very little. My amusing friend Mohammed spent the whole day with us, when he went to join the ghazzia. I afterwards learnt that he obtained four head of cattle as his share. There must be considerable herds of cattle in the more favoured valleys of Asben; for the expedition had nothing else to live upon, as Mohammed afterwards informed me, and slaughtered an immense quantity of them. Altogether, the expedition was successful, and the Fádë-ang and many tribes of the Imghád lost almost all their property. Even the influential Háj Beshír was punished, on account of his son having taken part in the expedition against us. I received also the satisfactory information that ʿAbd el Káder had taken nine camels from the man who retained my méheri; but I gained nothing thereby, neither my own camel being returned nor another given me in its stead. The case was the same with all our things; but nevertheless the proceeding had a good effect, seeing that people were punished expressly for having robbed Christians, and thus the principle was established that it was not less illegal to rob Christians than it was to rob Mohammedans, both creeds being placed, as far as regards the obligations of peace and honesty, on equally favourable terms.

Tuesday, October 22.—I spent the whole of Tuesday in my house, principally in taking down information which I received from the intelligent Ghadámsi merchant Mohammed, who, having left his native town from fear of the Turks, had resided six years in Ágades, and was a well-informed man.

Wednesday, October 23.—My old friend the blacksmith Hámmeda, and the tall Elíyas, went off this morning with several camels laden with provisions, while Hámma still stayed behind to finish the purchases; for on account of the expedition, and the insecure state of the road to Damerghú, it had been difficult to procure provisions in sufficient quantity. Our house therefore became almost as silent and desolate as the rest of the town; but I found a great advantage in remaining a few days longer, for my chivalrous friend and protector, who, as long as the Sultan and the great men were present, had been very reserved and cautious, had now no further scruple about taking me everywhere, and showing me the town “within and without.”

We first visited the house of Ídder, a broker, who lived at a short distance to the south from our house, and had also lodged Háj ʿAbdúwa during his stay here. It was a large, spacious dwelling, well arranged with a view to comfort and privacy, according to the conception and customs of the inhabitants, while our house (being a mere temporary residence for Ánnur’s people occasionally visiting the town) was a dirty, comfortless abode. We entered first a vestibule, about twenty-five feet long and nine broad, having on each side a separate space marked off by that low kind of balustrade mentioned in my description of the Sultan’s house. This vestibule or ante-room was followed by a second room of larger size and irregular arrangement; opposite the entrance it opened into another apartment, which, with two doors, led into a spacious inner courtyard, which was very irregularly circumscribed by several rooms projecting into it, while to the left it was occupied by an enormous bedstead (1). These bedsteads are a most characteristic article of furniture in all the dwellings of the Sónghay. In Ágades they are generally very solidly built of thick boards, and furnished with a strong canopy resting upon four posts, covered with mats on the top and on three sides, the remaining side being shut in with boards. Such a canopied bed looks like a little house by itself. On the wall of the first chamber, which on the right projected into the courtyard, several lines of large pots had been arranged, one above the other (2), forming so many warm nests for a number of turtle-doves which were playing all about the courtyard; while on the left, in the half-decayed walls of two other rooms (3), about a dozen goats were fastened each to a separate pole. The background of the courtyard contained several rooms, and in front of it a large shade (4) had been built of mats, forming a rather pleasant and cool resting-place. Numbers of children were gambolling about, who gave to the whole a very cheerful appearance. There is something very peculiar in these houses, which are constructed evidently with a view to comfort and quiet enjoyment.

We then went to visit a female friend of Hámma, who lived in the south quarter of the town, in a house which likewise bespoke much comfort; but here, on account of the number of inmates, the arrangement was different, the second vestibule being furnished on each side with a large bedstead instead of mats, though here also there was in the courtyard an immense bedstead. The courtyard was comparatively small, and a long corridor on the left of it led to an inner courtyard or “tsakangída,” which I was not allowed to see. The mistress of the house was still a very comely person, although she had borne several children. She had a fine figure, though rather under the middle size, and a fair complexion. I may here remark that many of the women of Ágades are not a shade darker than Arab women in general. She wore a great quantity of silver ornaments, and was well dressed in a gown of coloured cotton and silk. Hámma was very intimate with her, and introduced me to her as his friend and protégé, whom she ought to value as highly as himself. She was married, but her husband was residing in Kátsena, and she did not seem to await his return in the Penelopean style. The house had as many as twenty inmates, there being no less than six children, I think, under five years of age, and among them a very handsome little girl, the mother’s favourite; besides, there were six or seven full-grown slaves. The children were all naked, but wore ornaments of beads and silver.

After we had taken leave of this Emgedesíye lady, we followed the street towards the south, where there were some very good houses, although the quarter in general was in ruins; and here I saw the very best and most comfortable-looking dwelling in the town. All the pinnacles were ornamented with ostrich eggs. One will often find in an eastern town, after the first impression of its desolate appearance is gone by, many proofs that the period of its utter prostration is not yet come, but that even in the midst of the ruins there is still a good deal of ease and comfort. Among the ruins of the southern quarter are to be seen the pinnacled walls of a building of immense circumference and considerable elevation; but unfortunately I could not learn from Hámma for what purpose it had been used; however, it was certainly a public building, and probably a large khán rather than the residence of the chief. With its high, towering walls, it still forms a sort of outwork on the south side of the town, where in general the wall is entirely destroyed, and the way is everywhere open. Hámma had a great prejudice against this desolate quarter. Even the more intelligent Mohammedans are often afraid to enter former dwelling-places of men, believing them to be haunted by spirits; but he took me to some inhabited houses, which were all built on the same principle as that described, but varying greatly in depth and in the size of the courtyard; the staircases (abi-n-háwa) leading to the upper story are in the courtyard, and are rather irregularly built of stones and clay. In some of them young ostriches were running about. The inhabitants of all the houses seemed to have the same cheerful disposition, and I was glad to find scarcely a single instance of misery. I give here the ground-plan of another house.

The artisans who work in leather (an occupation left entirely to females) seem to live in a quarter by themselves, which originally was quite separated from the rest of the town by a sort of gate; but I did not make a sufficient survey of this quarter to mark it distinctly on the ground-plan of the town. We also visited some of the mat-makers.

Our maimólo of the other day, who had discovered that we had slaughtered our sheep, paid us a visit in the evening, and for a piece of meat entertained me with a clever performance on his instrument, accompanied with a song. Hámma spent his evening with our friend the Emgedesíye lady, and was kind enough to beg me to accompany him. This I declined, but gave him a small present to take to her.

I had a fair sample of the state of morals in Ágades the following day, when five or six girls and women came to pay me a visit in our house, and with much simplicity invited me to make merry with them, there being now, as they said, no longer reason for reserve, “as the Sultan was gone.” It was indeed rather amusing to see what conclusions they drew from the motto “Serki yátafi.” Two of them were tolerably pretty and well-formed, with fine black hair hanging down in plaits or tresses, lively eyes, and very fair complexion. Their dress was decent, and that of one of them even elegant, consisting of an under-gown reaching from the neck to the ankles, and an upper one drawn over the head, both of white colour; but their demeanour was very free, and I too clearly understood the caution requisite in a European who would pass through these countries unharmed and respected by the natives, to allow myself to be tempted by these wantons. It would be better for a traveller in these regions, both for his own comfort and for the respect felt for him by the natives, if he could take his wife with him; for these simple people do not understand how a man can live without a partner. The Western Tuarek, who in general are very rigorous in their manners, and quite unlike the Kél-owí, had nothing to object against me except my being a bachelor. But as it is difficult to find a female companion for such journeys, and as by marrying a native he would expose himself to much trouble and inconvenience on the score of religion, he will do best to maintain the greatest austerity of manners with regard to the other sex, though he may thereby expose himself to a good deal of derision from some of the lighter-hearted natives. The ladies, however, became so troublesome that I thought it best to remain at home for a few days, and was thus enabled at the same time to note down the information which I had been able to pick up. During these occupations I was greatly pleased with the companionship of a diminutive species of finches which frequent all the rooms in Ágades, and, as I may add from later experience, in Timbúktu also; the male, with its red neck, in particular looks extremely pretty. The poults were just about to fledge.

Sunday, October 27.—There was one very characteristic building in the town, which, though a most conspicuous object from the terrace of our house, I had never yet investigated with sufficient accuracy. This was the mesállaje, or high tower rising over the roof of the mosque. The reason why this building in particular (the most famous and remarkable one in the town) had been hitherto observed by me only from a distance, and in passing by, must be obvious. Difference of religious creed repelled me from it; and so long as the town was full of strangers, some of them very fanatical, it was dangerous for me to approach it too closely. I had often inquired whether it would not be possible to ascend the tower without entering the mosque; but I had always received for answer that the entrance was locked up. As soon, however, as the Sultan was gone, and when the town became rather quiet, I urged Hámma to do his best that I might ascend to the top of this curious building, which I represented to him as a matter of the utmost importance to me, since it would enable me not only to control my route by taking a few angles of the principal elevations round the valley Aúderas, but also to obtain a distant view over the country towards the west and south, which it was not my good luck to visit myself. To-day Hámma promised me that he would try what could be done.

Having once more visited the lively house of Ídder, we took our way over the market-places, which were now rather dull. The vultures looked out with visible greediness and eagerness from the pinnacles of the ruined walls around for their wonted food—their share of offal during these days, when so many people were absent, being of course much reduced, though some of them probably had followed their fellow-citizens on the expedition. So few people being in the streets, the town had a more ruined look than ever, and the large heap of rubbish accumulated on the south side of the butchers’ market seemed to me more disgusting than before. We kept along the principal street between Dígi and Arrafíya, passing the deep well Shedwánka on our right, and on the other side a school, which resounded with the shrill voices of about fifty little boys repeating with energy and enthusiasm the verses of the Kurán, which their master had written for them upon their little wooden tablets. Having reached the open space in front of the mosque, and there being nobody to disturb me, I could view at my leisure this simple but curious building, which in the subsequent course of my journey became still more interesting to me, as I saw plainly that it was built on exactly the same principle as the tower which rises over the sepulchre of the famed conqueror Háj Mohammed Áskiá (the “Ischia” of Leo).

The mesállaje starts up from the platform or terrace formed by the roof of the mosque, which is extremely low, resting apparently, as we shall see, in its interior, upon four massive pillars. It is square, and measures at its base about thirty feet, having a small lean-to, on its east side, on the terrace of the mosque, where most probably there was formerly the entrance. From this the tower rises (decreasing in width, and with a sort of swelling or entasis in the middle of its elevation, something like the beautiful model adopted by nature in the deléb palm, and imitated by architects in the columns of the Ionic and Corinthian orders) to a height of from ninety to ninety-five feet. It measures at its summit not more than about eight feet in width. The interior is lighted by seven openings on each side. Like most of the houses in Ágades, it is built entirely of clay; and in order to strengthen a building so lofty and of so soft a material, its four walls are united by thirteen layers of boards of the dúm-tree, crossing the whole tower in its entire breadth and width, and coming out on each side from three to four feet, while at the same time they afford the only means of getting to the top. Its purpose is to serve as a watch-tower, or at least was so at a former time, when the town, surrounded by a strong wall and supplied with water, was well capable of making resistance, if warned in due time of an approaching danger. But at present it seems rather to be kept in repair only as a decoration of the town.

The mesállaje in its present state was only six years old at the time of my visit (in 1850), and perhaps was not even quite finished in the interior, as I was told that the layers of boards were originally intended to support a staircase of clay. About fifty paces from the south-western corner of the mosque, the ruins of an older tower are seen still rising to a considerable height, though leaning much to one side, more so than the celebrated Tower of Pisa, and most probably in a few years it will give way to an attack of storm and rain. This more ancient tower seems to have stood quite detached from the mosque.

Having sufficiently surveyed the exterior of the tower, and made a sketch of it, I accompanied my impatient companion into the interior of the mosque, into which he felt no scruple in conducting me. The lowness of the structure had already surprised me from without; but I was still more astonished when I entered the interior, and saw that it consisted of low, narrow naves, divided by pillars of immense thickness, the reason of which it is not possible at present to understand, as they have nothing to support but a roof of dúm-tree boards, mats, and a layer of clay; but I think it scarcely doubtful that originally these naves were but the vaults or cellars of a grand superstructure, designed but not executed; and this conjecture seems to be confirmed by all that at present remains of the mosque. The gloomy halls were buried in a mournful silence, interrupted only by the voice of a solitary man, seated on a dirty mat at the western wall of the tower, and reading diligently the torn leaves of a manuscript. Seeing that it was the kádhi, we went up to him and saluted him most respectfully; but it was not in the most cheerful and amiable way that he received our compliments—mine in particular—continuing to read, and scarcely raising his eyes from the sheets before him. Hámma then asked for permission to ascend the tower, but received a plain and unmistakable refusal, the thing being impossible, there being no entrance to the tower at present. It was shut up, he said, on account of the Kél-gerés, who used to ascend the tower in great numbers. Displeased with his uncourteous behaviour, and seeing that he was determined not to permit me to climb the tower, were it ever so feasible, we withdrew and called upon the imám, who lives in a house attached to these vaults, and which looked a little neater from having been whitewashed; however, he had no power to aid us in our purpose, but rather confirmed the statement of the kádhi. This is the principal mosque of the town, and seems to have been always so, although there are said to have been formerly as many as seventy mosques, of which ten are still in use. They deserve no mention, however, with the exception of three, the Msíd Míli, Msíd Éheni, and Msíd el Mékki. I will only add here that the Emgedesíye, so far as their very slender stock of theological learning and doctrine entitles them to rank with any sect, are Malekíye, as well as the Kél-owí.

Resigning myself to the disappointment of not being able to ascend the tower, I persuaded my friend to take a longer walk with me round the northern quarter of the town. But I forgot to mention that besides Hámma, I had another companion of a very different character. This was Zúmmuzuk, a reprobate of the worst description, and whose features bore distinct impress of the vile and brutal passions which actuated him; yet being a clever fellow, and (as the illegitimate son, or “dan néma,” of an Emgédesi woman) fully master of the peculiar idiom of Ágades, he was tolerated not only by the old chief Ánnur, who employed him as interpreter, but even by me. How insolent the knave could be I shall soon have occasion to mention. With this fellow, therefore, and with Hámma, I continued my walk, passing the kófa-n-alkáli, and then, from the ruins of the quarter Ben-Gottára, turning to the north. Here the wall of the town is in a tolerable state of preservation, but very weak and insufficient, though it is kept in repair, even to the pinnacles, on account of its surrounding the palace of the Sultan. Not far from this is an open space called Azarmádarangh, “the place of execution,” where occasionally the head of a rebellious chieftain or a murderer is cut off by the “dóka;” but as far as I could learn, such things happen very seldom. Even on the north side, two gates are in a tolerable state of preservation.

Having entered the town from this side, we went to visit the quarter of the leather-workers, which, as I stated before, seems to have formed originally a regular ward; all this handicraft, with the exception of saddle-work, is carried on by women, who work with great neatness. Very beautiful provision-bags are made here, although those which I brought back from Timbúktu are much handsomer. We saw also some fine specimens of mats, woven of a very soft kind of grass, and dyed of various colours. Unfortunately, I had but little with me wherewith to buy; and even if I had been able to make purchases, the destination of our journey being so distant, there was not much hope of carrying the things safely to Europe. The blacksmiths’ work of Ágades is also interesting, although showy and barbarous, and not unlike the work with which the Spaniards used to adorn their long daggers.

Monday, October 28.—During all this time I prosecuted inquiries with regard to several subjects connected with the geography and ethnography of this quarter of the world. I received several visits from Emgédesi tradesmen, many of whom are established in the northern provinces of Háusa, chiefly in Kátsena and Tasáwa, where living is infinitely cheaper than in Ágades. All these I found to be intelligent men, having been brought up in the centre of intercourse between a variety of tribes and nations of the most different organization, and, through the web of routes which join here, receiving information of distant regions. Several of them had even made the pilgrimage, and thus come in contact with the relatively high state of civilization in Egypt and near the coast; and I shall not easily forget the enlightened view which the mʿallem Háj Mohammed ʿOmár, who visited me several times, took of Islamism and Christianity. The last day of my stay in Ágades, he reverted to the subject of religion, and asked me, in a manner fully expressive of his astonishment, how it came to pass that the Christians and Moslemín were so fiercely opposed to one another, although their creeds, in essential principles, approximated so closely. To this I replied by saying that I thought the reason was that the great majority both of Christians and Moslemín paid less regard to the dogmas of their creeds than to external matters, which have very little or no reference to religion itself. I also tried to explain to him that in the time of Mohammed Christianity had entirely lost that purity which was its original character, and that it had been mixed up with many idolatrous elements, from which it was not entirely disengaged till a few centuries ago, while the Mohammedans had scarcely any acquaintance with Christians except those of the old sects of the Jacobites and Nestorians. Mutually pleased with our conversation, we parted from each other with regret.

In the afternoon I was agreeably surprised by the arrival of the Tinýlkum Ibrahim, for the purpose of supplying his brother’s house with what was wanted; and being determined to make only one day’s stay in the town, he had learned with pleasure that we were about to return by way of Áfasás, the village whither he himself was going. I myself had cherished this hope, as all the people had represented that place as one of the largest in the country, and as pleasantly situated. Hámma had promised to take me this way on our return to Tin-téllust; but having stayed so much longer in the town than he had intended, and being afraid of arriving too late for the salt-caravan of the Kél-owí on their way to Bilma, which he was to supply with provisions, he changed his plan, and determined to return by the shortest road. Meanwhile he informed me that the old chief would certainly not go with us to Zínder till the salt-caravan had returned from Bilma.

Fortunately, in the course of the 29th a small caravan with corn arrived from Damerghú, and Hámma completed his purchases. He had, however, first to settle a disagreeable affair; for our friend Zúmmuzuk had bought, in Hámma’s name, several things for which payment was now demanded. Hámma flew into a terrible rage, and nearly finished the rogue. My Arab and Tawáti friends, who heard that we were to start the following day, though they were rather busy buying corn, came to take leave of me, and I was glad to part from all of them in friendship. But before bidding farewell to this interesting place, I shall make a few general observations on its history.

---

Previously to Mr. Cooley’s perspicuous inquiries into the Negroland of the Arabs, this place was identified with Aúdaghost, merely on account of a supposed similarity of name. But Ágades, or rather Égedesh, is itself a pure Berber word, in no way connected with Aúdaghost. It is of very frequent occurrence, particularly among the Awelímmiden, and means “family,” and the name was well chosen for a town consisting of mixed elements. Moreover, while we find Aúdaghost in the far west in the twelfth century, we have the distinct statement of Marmol that Ágades was founded a hundred and sixty years before the time when he wrote (that is to say, in 1460), the truth of which statement, harmonizing as it does with Leo’s more general account, that it was a modern town, we have no reason to doubt. Neither of these authors tells us who built it; but as we know that the great Sónghay conqueror Háj Mohammed Áskiá, who conquered the town of Ágades in the year of the Hejra 921, or 1515 of our era, expelled from it the five Berber tribes who, according to the information collected by me during my stay in Ágades, and which I shall soon lay before my readers, must have been long resident in the town, it appears highly probable that these Berbers were its founders. And if this be assumed, there will be no difficulty in explaining why the language of the natives of the place at present is a dialect of the Sónghay language, as it is most probable that this great and enlightened conqueror, after he had driven out the old inhabitants, established in this important place a new colony of his own people. In a similar way we find the Sónghay nation, which seems not to have originally extended to a great distance eastward of Gágho or Gógo, now extending into the very heart of Kébbi, although we shall find other people speaking the same language in the neighbourhood of Ágades, and perhaps may be able in the course of our researches to trace some connection between the Sónghay and ancient Egypt.

It is therefore highly probable that those five Berber tribes formed the settlement in question as an entrepôt for their commerce with Negroland, though the foundation of such a grand settlement on the border of the desert presumes that they had at that time a preponderating influence in all these regions; and the whole affair is so peculiar that its history could not fail to gratify curiosity if more could be known of it. From Bello’s account, it would appear that they, or at least one of these tribes (the Aújila), conquered the whole of Aïr.

It is certainly remarkable to see people from five places, separated from each other by immense tracts, and united only by the bond of commerce and interest, founding a large colony far away from their homes and on the very border of the desert. For, according to all that I could learn by the most sedulous inquiries in Ágades, those tribes belonged to the Gurára of Tawat, to the Tafimáta, to the Beni Wazít and the Tésko of Ghadámes, to the once powerful and numerous tribe of the Masráta, and finally to the Aújila; and as the names of almost all these different tribes, and of their divisions, are still attached to localities of the town, we can scarcely doubt the correctness of this information, and must suppose that Sultan Bello was mistaken in referring the five tribes (settled in Ágades) to Aújila alone.

Though nothing is related about the manner in which Háj Mohammed Áskiá took possession of the town, except that it is stated distinctly that he drove out the five tribes, it seems, from the traditions current in Ágades, that a considerable number of the Berbers, with five hundred “jákhfa” (cages mounted on camels, such as only wealthy people can afford to keep for carrying their wives), left the town, but were all massacred. But no one who regards with the least attention the character of the present population of the town can doubt for a moment that a considerable number of the Berber population remained behind, and in course of time mixed with the Sónghay colonists; for, even if we set aside the consideration of the language (which is greatly intermixed with Berber words), there is evidently much Berber blood in the population even at the present day, a fact which is more evident in the females than in the males.

It is a pity that Leo says nothing about the language spoken in Ágades; for he lived just at the very period during which the town, from a Berber settlement, became a Negro town. His expression certainly implies that he regarded it as a Negro town. But, while well-informed in general respecting the great conquests of Mohammed Áskiá (or, as he calls him, Ischia, whom he erroneously styles King of Timbúktu), he does not once mention his expedition against Ágades, of which he might have heard as easily as of those against Kátsena and Kanó, which preceded the former only by two years. From his account it would seem that the town was then in a very flourishing state, full of foreign merchants and slaves, and that the king, though he paid a tribute of one hundred and fifty thousand ducats to the King of Timbúktu (Gágho), enjoyed a great degree of independence, at least from that quarter, and had even a military force of his own. Besides, it is stated expressly that he belonged to the Berber race. But it would almost seem as if Leo, in this passage, represented the state of things as it was when he visited the town, before Áskiá’s time, and not at the date when he wrote, though the circumstance of the tribute payable to that king may have been learnt from later information. In general, the great defect in Leo’s description is that the reader has no exact dates to which to refer the several statements, and that he cannot be sure how far the author speaks as an eye-witness, and how far from information.

Of course it is possible that the Berbers found a Sónghay population, if not in the place itself, which most probably did not exist before the time of their arrival, yet in the district around it; and it would seem that there existed in ancient times, in the celebrated Valley of Ír-n-allem, a small town of which some vestiges are said to remain at the present day, as well as two or three date-trees, the solitary remains of a large plantation. From this town, tradition says, the present inhabitants of Ágades were transplanted. But be this as it may, it is certain that the same dialect of the Sónghay language which is spoken in Ágades is also still spoken in a few places in the neighbourhood, by the tribe of the Íghdalén, or Ighedálen, whose whole appearance, especially their long hair, shows them to be a mixed race of Sónghay and Berbers, and there is some reason to suppose that they belonged originally to the Zenága or Senhája. These people live in and around Íngal, a small town four days’ journey from Ágades, on the road to Sókoto, and in and around Tegídda, a place three days’ journey from Íngal, and about five from Ágades west-south-west. This latter place is of considerable interest, being evidently identical with the town of the same name mentioned by Ebn Khaldún and by Ebn Batúta as a wealthy place, lying eastward from Gógo, on the road to Egypt, and in intimate connection and friendly intercourse with the Mzáb and Wárgela. It was governed by a Berber chief, with the title of Sultan. This place, too, was for some time subject to Gógo, or rather to the empire of Méle or Málli, which then comprised Sónghay, in the latter part of the fourteenth century; and the circumstance that here too the Sónghay language is still spoken may be best explained by referring it to colonization, since it is evident that Áskiá, when he took possession of Ágades, must have occupied Tegídda also, which lay on the road from Gógo to that place. However, I will not indulge in conjectures, and will merely enter into historical questions so far as they contribute to furnish a vivid and coherent picture of the tribes and countries with which my journey brought me into contact. I will therefore only add that this place, Tegídda or Tekádda, was famous, in the time of Ebn Batúta, for its copper mines, the ores of which were exported as far as Bórnu and Góber, while at present nothing is known of the existence of copper hereabouts; but a very good species of salt of red colour (já-n-gísherí), which is far superior to that of Bilma, is obtained here, as well as in Íngal. But I recommend this point to the inquiry of future travellers. I have mentioned above the presence of loadstone on the border of Aír.

Having thus attempted to elucidate and illustrate the remarkable fact that the language of Ágades is derived from and akin to the Sónghay—a fact which of course appeared to me more surprising before I discovered, in the course of 1853, that this language extends eastward far beyond the so-called Niger—I return once more to the settlement of the Berbers in Ágades. It is evident that this settlement, if it was of the nature described above, was made for the purpose of serving as a great commercial entrepôt for the commerce with another country; and if we duly consider the statements made by el Bekri, Ebn Batúta, Leo, Ca da Mosto, and by the author of the “History of Sónghay,” with regard to the importance of the market of Gógo, and if we pay due attention to that circuitous route which led from Gógo by way of Tegídda, not only to Egypt, but even to Tawát, there cannot be the least doubt that Ágades was founded by those Berber tribes with the distinct purpose that it might serve them as a secure abode and fortified magazine in their commercial intercourse with that splendid capital of the Sónghay empire, the principal article of which was gold, which formed also the chief article in the former commerce of Ágades. For Ágades had its own standard weight of this precious metal, the mithkál, which even at the present day regulates the circulating medium. And this mithkál of Ágades is totally different from the standard of the same name which is in use in Timbúktu, the latter being, in regard to the value of the Spanish dollar, as 1⅓ to 1, and the former only as ⅖ to 1. But for wholesale business a greater weight was in use, called “kárruwe,” the smaller kárruwe containing thirty-three mithákel, or mithkáls, and a third, equal to two rottls and a sixth, while the larger kárruwe contained a hundred mithkáls, and was equal to six rottls and a half.

The importance of the trade of Ágades, and the wealth of the place in general, appear very clearly from the large tribute, of a hundred and fifty thousand ducats, which the King of Ágades was able to pay to that of Sónghay, especially if we bear in mind that Leo, in order to give an idea of the great expense which this same King of Sónghay had incurred on his pilgrimage to Mekka, states in another passage that having spent all he took with him, he contracted a debt amounting to that very sum. As for the King of Ágades, his situation was at that time just what it is now; and we cannot better describe his precarious position, entirely dependent on the caprice and intrigues of the influential chiefs of the Tuarek, than by using the very words of Leo, “Alle volte scacciano il re e pongono qualche suo parente in luogo di lui, nè usano ammazzar alcuno; e quel che più contenta gli abitatori del diserto è fatto re in Agadez.”

Unfortunately, we are not able to fix a date for that very peculiar covenant between the different tribes with regard to the installation of the Sultan of Ágades, and the establishing of the principle that he must belong to a certain family, which is regarded as of sheríf nobility, and lives not in Ágades, nor even in the country of Aír, but in a town of Góber. I was once inclined to think that this was an arrangement made in consequence of the power and influence which the Emír of Sókoto had arrogated to himself; but I have now reason to doubt this, for even the grandfather of ʿAbd el Káder was Sultan. Certainly even now, when the power of the Fulfúlde or Féllani empire is fast crumbling to pieces, the Emír of Sókoto has a certain influence upon the choice of the Sultan of Ágades. Of this fact I myself became witness during my stay in Sókoto in April, 1853, when Hámed eʾ Rufäy was once more sent out to succeed ʿAbd el Káder. Indeed, Ittegáma, ʿAbd el Káder’s brother, who thought that I enjoyed the favour and confidence of the Emír, called upon me (as I shall relate in due time) expressly to entreat me most urgently to exert my influence in order to restore my former host to his authority.

I have described already in what way the union of the tribes of the Itísan, the Kél-gerés, and the Kél-owí is expressed in installing the Sultan; but though without the presence and assent of the former the new prince could never arrive at his place of residence, the final decision seems to rest with the chief Ánnur, the inhabitants of the town having no voice in the matter. The Sultan is rather a chief of the Tuarek tribes residing in Ágades than the ruler of Ágades. How difficult and precarious his position must be may be easily conceived if it be considered that these tribes are generally at war with one another; the father of Hámed eʾ Rufäy was even killed by the Kél-gerés. Nevertheless, if he be an intelligent and energetic man, his influence in the midst of this wild conflict and struggle of clashing interests and inclinations must be very beneficial.

What the revenue of the Sultan may at present amount to it is difficult to say. His means and income consist chiefly in the presents which he receives on his accession to authority, in a contribution of one bullock’s hide or kulábu (being about the value of half a Spanish dollar) from each family, in a more considerable but rather uncertain tribute levied upon the Imghád, in the tax of ten mithkáls or four Spanish dollars which he levies on each camel-load of foreign merchandise which enters the town of Ágades (articles of food being exempt from charge), in a small tribute derived from the salt brought from Bilma, and in the fines levied on lawless people and marauders, and often on whole tribes. Thus it is very probable that the expedition which ʿAbd el Káder undertook immediately after his accession, against the tribes who had plundered us, enriched him considerably. As for the inhabitants of Ágades themselves, I was assured that they do not pay him any tribute at all, but are only obliged to accompany him on his expeditions. Of course in earlier times, when the commerce of the town was far greater than at present, and when the Imghád (who had to provide him with cattle, corn, fruit, and vegetables) were strictly obedient, his income far exceeded that of the present day. When taken altogether it is certainly considerably under twenty thousand dollars. His title is Amanókal, or Amanókal Imakóren, in Temáshight, Kókoy bére in the Emgédesi, and Babá-n-Serkí in the Háusa language.

The person second in authority in the town, and in certain respects the Vizier, is now, and apparently was also in ancient times, the “kókoy gerégeré” (i.e. master of the courtyard or the interior of the palace). This is his real indigenous character, while the foreigners, who regarded him only in his relation to themselves, called him Sheikh el ʿArab, or, in the Háusa language, Serkí-n-turáwa (the Chief of the Whites), and this is the title by which he is generally known. For it was he who had to levy the tax on the merchandise imported into the town, an office which in former times, when a considerable trade was carried on, was of great importance. But the chief duty of the “serkí-n-turáwa,” at the present time, is to accompany annually the salt-caravan of the Kél-gerés, which supplies the western part of Middle Sudán with the salt of Bilma, from Ágades to Sókoto, and to protect it on the road as well as to secure it against exorbitant exactions on the part of the Fúlbe of Sókoto. For this trouble he receives one “kántu,” that is to say the eighth part (eight kántu weighing three Turkish kantars or quintals) of a middle-sized camel-load, a contribution which forms a considerable income in this country, probably of from eight to ten thousand Spanish dollars, the caravan consisting generally of some thousand camels, not all equally laden, and the kántu of salt fetching in Sudán from five thousand to seven and eight thousand kurdí or shells, which are worth from two to three dollars. Under such circumstances those officers, who at the same time trade on their own account, cannot but amass considerable wealth. Mohammed Bóro as well as Áshu are very rich, considering the circumstances of the country.

After having escorted the salt-caravan to Sókoto, and settled the business with the Emír of this place, the serkí-n-turáwa in former times had to go to Kanó, where he received a small portion of the six hundred kurdí, the duty levied on each slave brought to the slave-market, after which he returned to Ágades with the Kél-gerés that had frequented the market of Kanó. I had full opportunity, in the further course of my journey, to convince myself that such is not now the case; but I cannot say what is the reason of this custom having been discontinued, though it may be the dangerous state of the road between Sókoto and Kanó. Mohammed Bóro, the former serkí-n-turáwa, has still residences as well in Kanó and Zínder as in Sókoto and Ágades. From what I have said it is clear that at present the serkí-n-turáwa has much more to do with the Tuarek and Fúlbe than with the Arabs, and at the same time is a sort of mediator between Agades and Sókoto. Of the other persons in connection with the Sultan, the “kókoy kaina” or “bába-n-serkí” (the chief eunuch), at present Ámagay, the fádawa-n-serkí (the aides-de-camp of the Sultan), as well as the kádhi or alkáli, and the war-chief Sídi Ghalli, I have spoken in the diary of my residence in the place.

I have already stated above that the southern part of the town, which at present is almost entirely deserted, formed the oldest quarter, while katánga, or “báki-n-bírni,” seems to have been its northern limit. Within these limits the town was about two miles in circuit, and when thickly peopled may have contained about thirty thousand inhabitants; but after the northern quarter was added the whole town had a circuit of about three miles and a half, and may easily have mustered as many as fifty thousand inhabitants, or even more. The highest degree of power seems to have been attained before the conquest of the town by Mohammed Áskiá in the year 1515, though it is said to have been a considerable and wealthy place till about sixty years ago (reckoned from 1850), when the greatest part of the inhabitants emigrated to the neighbouring towns of Háusa, chiefly Kátsena, Tasáwa, Marádi, and Kanó. The exact circumstances which brought about this deplorable desertion and desolation of the place I was not able to learn; and the date of the event cannot be made to coincide with the period of the great revolution effected in Middle Sudán by the rising of the Jihádi, “the Reformer,” ʿOthmán da-n-Fódiye, which it preceded by more than fifteen years; but it coincides with or closely follows upon an event which I shall have to dwell upon in the further course of my proceedings. This is the conquest of Gʿao, or Gógo (the former capital of the Sónghay empire, and which since 1591 had become a province of the empire of Morocco), by the Tuarek. As we have seen above that Ágades had evidently been founded as an entrepôt for the great trade with this most flourishing commercial place on the Ísa, or Niger, at that time the centre of the gold trade, of course the ransacking and wholesale destruction of this town could not but affect in the most serious manner the wellbeing of Agades, cutting away the very roots through which it received life.

At present I still think that I was not far wrong in estimating the number of the inhabited houses at from six hundred to seven hundred, and the population at about seven thousand, though it must be borne in mind that, as the inhabitants have still preserved their trading character, a great many of the male inhabitants are always absent from home, a circumstance which reduces the armed force of the place to about six hundred. A numerical element, capable of controlling the estimated amount of the population, is offered by the number of from two hundred and fifty to three hundred well-bred boys, who at the time of my visit were learning a little reading and writing, in five or six schools scattered over the town; for it is not every boy who is sent to school, but only those belonging to families in easy circumstances, and they are all about the same age, from eight to ten years old.

With regard to the names of the quarters of the town, which are interesting from an historical point of view, I was not able to learn exactly the application of each of the names; and I am sure very few even of the inhabitants themselves can now tell the limits of the quarters, on account of the desolate state of many of them. The principal names which can be laid down with certainty in the plan are Masráta, Gobetáren, Gáwa-Ngírsu, Dígi or Dégi, Katánga, Terjemán, and Arrafía, which comprise the south-western quarter of the town. The names of the other quarters, which I attempted to lay down on the plan sent to Government together with my report, I now deem it prudent to withdraw, as I afterwards found that there was some uncertainty about them. I therefore collect here, for the information of future travellers, the names of the other quarters of the place, besides those mentioned above and marked in the plan—Lárelóg, Churúd, Hásena, Amaréwuël, Imurdán (which name, I was assured afterwards, has nothing in common with the name of the tribe of the Imghád), Tafimáta (the quarter where the tribe of the same name lived), Yobímme (“yobu-mé” meaning the mouth of the market), Dégi-n-béne, or the Upper Dégi, and Bosenrára. Kachíyu (not Kachín) seems to have been originally the name of a pool, as I was assured that, besides the three ponds still visible, there were formerly seven others, namely Kudúru, Kachíyu, Chikinéwan, Lángusúgázará, Kurungúsu, and Rabafáda, this latter in the square of the palace.

The whole ground upon which the town is built (being the edge of a tableland which coincides with the transition from granite to sandstone) seems to be greatly impregnated with salt at a certain depth, of which not only the ponds, but even the wells bear evidence, two of the three wells still in use having saltish water, and only that of Shedwánka being, as to taste, free from salt, though it is still regarded as unwholesome, and all the water used for drinking is brought from the wells outside the walls. Formerly, it is said, there were nine wells inside the town.

From what I have said above, it may be concluded that the commerce of Ágades is now inconsiderable. Its characteristic feature is that no kind of money whatever is current in the market—neither gold, nor silver, nor kurdí, nor shells; while strips of cotton, or gábagá (the Kanúri, and not the Háusa term being employed in this case, because the small quantity of this stuff which is current is imported from the north-western province of Bórnu), are very rare, and indeed form almost as merely nominal a standard as the mithkál. Nevertheless the value of the mithkál is divided into ten rijáls, or érjel, which measure means eight drʿa, or cubits, of gábagá. The real standard of the market, I must repeat, is millet or dukhn (“géro” in Háusa, “éneli” in Temáshight, Pennisetum typhoïdeum), durra, or Holcus sorghum, being scarcely ever brought to market. And it is very remarkable, that with this article a man may buy everything at a much cheaper rate than with merchandise, which in general fetches a low price in the place; at least it did so during my stay, when the market had been well stocked with everything in demand, by the people who had come along with us. English calico of very good quality was sold by me at 20 per cent. less than it had been bought for at Múrzuk. Senna in former times formed an article of export of some importance; but the price which it fetches on the coast has so decreased that it scarcely pays the carriage, the distance from the coast being so very great; and it scarcely formed at all an article in request here, nor did we meet on our whole journey a single camel laden with it, though it grows in considerable quantities in the valleys hereabouts.

Ágades is in no respect a place of resort for wealthy merchants, not even Arabs, while with regard to Europe its importance at present consists in its lying on the most direct road to Sókoto and that part of Sudán. In my opinion it would form for a European agent a very good and comparatively healthy place from which to open relations with Central Africa. The native merchants seem only to visit the markets of Kátsena, Tasáwa, Marádi, Kanó, and Sókoto, and, as far as I was able to learn, never go to the northern markets of Ghát or Múrzuk, unless on a journey to Mekka, which several of them have made. Neither does there seem to exist any intercourse at present with Gágho, or Gógo, or with Timbúktu; but the Arabs of Azawád and those parts, when undertaking a pilgrimage, generally go by way of Ágades.

I must here add, that I did not observe that the people of Ágades use manna in their food, nor that it is collected in the neighbourhood of the town; but I did not inquire about it on the spot, not having taken notice of the passage of Leo relating to it.

My stay in Ágades was too short to justify my entering into detail about the private life of the people, but all that I saw convinced me that, although open to most serious censure on the part of the moralist, it presented many striking features of cheerfulness and happiness, and nothing like the misery which is often met with in towns which have declined from their former glory. It still contains many active germs of national life, which are most gratifying to the philosophic traveller. The situation, on an elevated plateau, cannot but be healthy, as the few waterpools, of small dimensions, are incapable of infecting the air. The disease which I have mentioned in my diary as prevalent at the time of my sojourn was epidemic. Besides, it must be borne in mind that the end of the rainy season everywhere in the tropical regions is the most unhealthy period of the year.

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Wednesday, October 30.—We at length left Ágades. I felt as if I had enjoyed a glimpse of a totally different world, a new region of life, many relations of which were as yet obscure to me. Timbúktu, which was in the background of this novel and living picture, seemed an almost unattainable object. An acquaintance with it would not fail to throw light upon this advanced post of Sónghay nationality, and its state of civilization; but at that time I little expected that it would be my destiny to dwell a year in that mysterious place, and I had even reason to doubt the possibility of reaching it from this quarter. All my thoughts were bent on the south; and although at present retracing my steps towards the north, yet, as it carried me back to our headquarters, whence I might soon expect to start for the southern regions, I regarded it as a step in advance.

But the commencement of the journey was most abortive, and made me rather regret that I had not spent the day in the town. Hámma was unable to find some of the asses belonging to the caravan, for the simple reason that our friend Zúmmuzuk had sold them; and the whole day was lost, so that we encamped after a march of scarcely two miles and a half. Here we were joined by Ibrahím and by a very amiable, intelligent Kél-owí of the name of Rábbot, who informed me that to the east of the valley Tefárrakad there were several other valleys not at all inferior to it in exuberance and variety of vegetation. As the most important among them, he named to me Ámdegra, Edob, Téwarni, Tíndawén, and Aságatay.

When at length, on Thursday morning, we fairly began our journey, we followed entirely our old road, Hámma being anxious to get home; but nevertheless, as the mountains and ridges which characterize this region now met the eyes from the other side, the scenery was a good deal varied, and I had frequent opportunities of completing my map of this part of the country. Besides, we chose our encampments in new localities; and many little incidents varied our journey, the most interesting of which was the approach of a party of five lions in the valley Búdde, when Hámma called us to arms. He, Rábbot, Mohammed, and I advanced to meet them, but they soon turned their backs, leaping over the rocky ground towards their mountain retreat. The lion of Aír does not seem to be a very ferocious animal, and, like those of all this border-region of the desert, has no mane—that is to say, as compared with other lions. The maneless lion of Guzerat is well known, but a similar species seems also to occur in Sind and Persia. The lion of Central Africa, at least of Bórnu and Logón, has a beautiful mane; and the skin of a lion of that region, which I took with me on my journey to Western Sudán, excited the admiration of all who saw it.

The valley Tíggeda had now a very different aspect from that which it wore when we were going to Ágades; for while at that time, beautiful as it was, it was not enlivened by a single human being, now at its very head we met a considerable caravan of Kél-owí, laden with salt, and accompanied by a herd of young camels, to be bartered in the market of Ágades for corn, and further on we found a herd of from sixty to seventy head of cattle, and numerous flocks of goats, indulging in the rich herbage which had previously excited my astonishment. Our minds likewise were excited by the important news that the old chief of Tin-téllust had started for Sudán, not only with my fellow-travellers, but with the whole caravan; but while my fiery and frivolous Mohammed heaped conjecture upon conjecture, meditating how we should be able to reach them, Hámma, who knew his father-in-law better, and who was conscious of his own importance and dignity, remained incredulous. We had some very pretty mountain views from this side, especially when we approached Mount Eghellál, behind which the Búnday and other mountains rose into view.

On the morning of the 5th of November, which was to be the day of our arrival in Tin-téllust, it was so cold that we started rather late, Hámma simply declaring that the cold did not allow him to go on—“Dári yahánna fataúchi.” Having started at length, we made a long day’s march, and after eleven hours and a half travelling reached the well-known sand-hill opposite Tin-téllust, where our encampment had stayed so long, not by the great road along the valley, but by “the Thief’s Passage,” in order to observe before we were observed. But the residence of the great chief Ánnur was buried in the deepest silence; the courtiers, the blacksmiths, all the great men and ladies, had gone away. Hámma went to see if anybody remained behind, while we cooked our rice, and prepared to make ourselves comfortable for the night. That, however, was out of the question, for when he returned he ordered us to decamp at once; and though nothing is more dreadful than a night’s march, particularly when it succeeds to a long day’s journey, yet in the enthusiasm awakened by the thought of going southwards I with all my heart joined in the exclamation “Sé fataúchi sé Kanó” (“No rest before Kanó”—properly, “Nothing but travelling, nothing but Kanó”)!

It was ten o’clock in the evening when we started again along the broad valley, taking leave for ever of “the English Hill;” but I soon began to suffer from the consequences of fatigue. In order to avoid falling from my camel in my drowsy state, I was obliged to drag myself along, great part of the night, on foot, which was not at all agreeable, as the ground was at times very rugged, and covered with long grass. Having crossed a rocky flat, we entered, about four o’clock in the morning, the wide plain of Tin-téggana, stumbling along through the thick cover of bú rékkebah and other sorts of herbage, till dawn, coming on with rather chilly air, revealed to our benumbed senses the encampment of the caravan. Having therefore made repeated halts, to give the people time to recognize us, in order not to occasion any alarm, as our leader Hámma was not with us, but had lain down at the road-side to get a few hours’ rest, we made straight for the two European tents which showed us precisely the residence of my fellow-travellers. The old chief Ánnur was up, and received me with great kindness—more kindly, I must say, than my colleagues, who apparently felt some jealousy on account of the success which had attended my proceedings. Having once more taken possession of the well-known home of our little tent, I preferred looking about the encampment to lying down; for sleeping after sunrise is not agreeable to me.

The valley Tin-téggana, wherein Ánnur, with his people, was encamped, is in this place about three miles broad, being bordered towards the east by a low range of hills with the small cone of Ádode rising to a greater elevation, towards the west by the Búnday and some smaller mountains; towards the south, where the ground rises, it is lined by more detached peaks; while on the north side an open view extends down the valley as far as the large mountain mass which borders the valley of Tin-téllust on the north. Altogether it was a fine, open landscape, embracing the country which forms the nucleus, if I may say so, of the domain of the old chief, whose camels pasture here the whole year round, while he himself usually takes up his residence in this place about this season, when nature is in its prime, and the weather becomes cool, in order to enjoy the country air.

We ourselves had as yet no idea of making a long stay here, but indulged in the hope of starting the next day, when all of a sudden about noon our old friend declared solemnly that he was unable to go with us at present, that he himself was obliged to wait for the salt caravan, while his confidential slave Zinghína was now to go southwards. He said that, if we chose, we might go on with the latter. He supposed, perhaps, that none of us would dare to do so; but when I insisted upon it afterwards he as well as Zinghína declared that the attempt was too dangerous, and it would have been absurd to insist on accompanying the slave. For the moment such a disappointment was very trying. However, I afterwards perceived that, though we had lost more than a month of the finest season for travelling, we had thereby acquired all possible security for safely attaining the object of our journey; for now we were obliged to send off all our luggage with Zinghína in advance, and might fully expect to travel with infinitely more ease and less trouble, when no longer encumbered with things which, though of little value, nevertheless attracted the cupidity of the people. At the time, however, even this was not at all agreeable, as Overweg and I had to part with almost all our things, and to send them on to Kanó, to the care of a man of whose character we knew nothing.

Friday, November 8.—Nearly all the Arabs and many of the Kél-owí started, and it awakened some feeling of regret to see them go and to be ourselves obliged to stay behind. Our friend Músa, who had been the most faithful of our Tinýlkum camel-drivers, who had visited us almost daily in our tent, and from whom we had obtained so much valuable information, was the last to take leave of us. But as soon as the caravan was out of sight I determined to make the best possible use of this involuntary leisure, by sifting elaborately the varied information which I had been able to collect in Ágades, and by sending a full report to Europe, in order to engage the interest of the scientific public in our expedition, and to justify Her Majesty’s Government in granting us new supplies, without which, after our heavy losses, we should be obliged to return directly, leaving the chief objects of the expedition unattained. Owing to this resolution, our quiet life in Asben was not, I hope, without its fruits.

Our encampment, too, became more cheerful and agreeable when, on the following day, we transferred it to the korámma Ofáyet, a beautiful little branch wady of the spacious valley Tin-téggana, issuing from a defile (a “kógo-n-dútsi”) formed by the Búnday and a lower mount to the south, along which led the path to Ásodi. It was most densely wooded with talha-trees, and overgrown with tall bú rékkebah and allwot, and was thinned only very gradually, as immense branches and whole trees were cut down daily to feed the fires during the night; for it was at times extremely cold, and we felt most comfortable when in the evening we stretched ourselves in front of our tents, round an enormous fire. The tall herbage also was by degrees consumed, not only by the camels, but by the construction of small conical huts; so that gradually a varied and pleasant little village sprang up in this wild spot, which is represented in the accompanying woodcut. The time which we were obliged to stay here would indeed have passed by most pleasantly but for the trouble occasioned to Overweg and myself by our impudent and dissolute Tunisian half-caste servant, who had become quite insupportable. Unfortunately we did not find an opportunity of sending him back; and I thought it best to take him with me to Kanó, where I was sure to get rid of him. Our other servant, Ibrahím, also, though much more prudent, was not at all trustworthy, which was the more to be regretted as he had travelled all over Háusa, and even as far as Gónja, and might have proved of immense service. But fortunately I had another servant, a thin youth, of most unattractive appearance, but who nevertheless was the most useful attendant I ever had; and though young, he had roamed about a great deal over the whole eastern half of the desert, and shared in many adventures of the most serious kind. He possessed, too, a strong sense of honour, and was perfectly to be relied upon. This was Mohammed el Gatróni, a native of Gatrón, in the southern part of Fezzán, who, with a short interruption (when I sent him to Múrzuk with the late Mr. Richardson’s papers and effects), remained in my service till I returned to Fezzán in 1855.

The zeal with which I had commenced finishing my report was well rewarded, for on the 14th the Ghadámsi merchant Abu Bakr el Wákhshi (an old man whom I shall have occasion to mention repeatedly in the course of my journey) came to Ánnur to complain of a robbery committed upon part of his merchandise at Tasáwa. But for this circumstance he would not have touched at this place, and his people, whom he was sending to Ghadámes, would have travelled along the great road by Ásodi without our knowing anything about them. Being assured by the trustworthy old man that the parcel would reach Ghadámes in two months, I sent off the first part of my report.

In the course of the 15th, while sitting quietly in my tent, I suddenly heard my name, “ʿAbd el Kerím,” pronounced by a well-known voice, and looking out, to my great astonishment saw the little sturdy figure of my friend Hámma trotting along at a steady pace, his iron spear in his hand. I thought he was gone to Bilma, as we had been told; but it appeared that, having come up with the salt caravan at the commencement of the Hammáda, he only supplied them with more corn, and having conferred with them, had come back to assist his old father-in-law in the arduous task of keeping the turbulent tribes in some state of quiet. The degree of secrecy with which everything is done in this wild country is indeed remarkable, and no doubt contributes in a great measure to the influence and power of the sagacious chief of Tin-téllust.

Four days later came my other friend, the foolish Mohammed, who had accompanied the expedition of the Sultan of Ágades, and who was full of interesting details of this little campaign. Neither Astáfidet, the Prince of the Kél-owí, nor ʿAbd el Káder, the Sultan residing in Ágades, actually took part in the attack, or “súkkua,” but kept at a distance. On asking my merry friend what was the result of the whole, and whether the state of the country to the north was now settled, and the road secure, he exclaimed, with a significant grimace, “Bábu dádi” (Not very pleasant); and to what extent strength was sacrificed to euphony in this expression we were soon to learn, for the next day the “makéria,” the wife of the “mákeri” Elíyas, came to tell us that a ghazzia of the Éfadaye had suddenly fallen upon Tintagh-odé, and had carried off two large droves (gérki) of camels and all the movable property. Such is the state of this country, where the chiefs, instead of punishing systematically the rebels and marauders, regard such instances of crime only as opportunities for enriching themselves with plunder. The Éfadaye do not muster more than from two hundred to three hundred spears, but they are generally assisted by the Ígammén and Édelén, two of the tribes of the Imghád whom I mentioned above.

The next day the old chief, accompanied by Hámma and seven other trusty companions, set out for Tintéyyat, in order to consult with the old mʿallem Azóri, “the wise man of Aír,” about the means of preventing the bad consequences likely to arise from the turbulent state into which the country had fallen just when he was about to set out for Sudán.

The old chief, on his return from his important consultation, gave us some interesting information about “the Lion of Tintéyyat” (Azóri). Azóri, he said, had attained the highest degree of wisdom and learning, comprehending all Divine and human things, without ever leaving the country of Aír. He was now nearly blind, though younger in years than himself. His father had likewise been a very wise man. Formerly, according to our friend, there was another great mʿallem in the country, named Hámi, a native of Tintagh-odé, and as long as he lived the Aníslimen, his fellow-citizens, had been good people and followed the way of justice, while at present their name, “Aníslim,” was become a mere mockery, for they were the worst of the lawless, and had lost all fear of God; indeed almost all the troubles into which the country had been plunged might be ascribed to their agency and intrigues. Here the old chief had touched on his favourite theme, and he gave vent to all his anger and wrath against those holy men, who were evidently opposed to his authority.

The old man was, in fact, on the most friendly terms with us, and instead of being suspicious of our “writing down his country,” was anxious to correct any erroneous idea which we might entertain respecting it. I shall never forget with what pleasure he looked over my sketch of the route from Tin-téllust to Ágades, while I explained to him the principal features of it; and he felt a proud satisfaction in seeing a stranger from a far distant country appreciate the peculiar charms of the glens and mountains of his own native land. He was, in short, so pleased with our manners and our whole demeanour that one day, after he had been reposing in my tent and chatting with me, he sent for Yusuf, and told him plainly that he apprehended that our religion was better than theirs; whereupon the Arab explained to him that our manners indeed were excellent, but that our religious creed had some great defects, in violating the unity of the Almighty God, and elevating one of His prophets from his real rank of servant of God to that of His Son. Ánnur, rising a little from his couch, looked steadily into Yusuf’s face, and said, “Hákkanánne?” (Is it so?) As for me, in order not to provoke a disputation with Yusuf, who united in himself some of the most amiable with some of the most hateful qualities, I kept silence as long as he was present; but when he retired I explained to the chief that, as there was a great variety of sects among the Mohammedans, so there was also among the Christians, many of whom laid greater stress upon the unimpaired unity of the Creator than even the Mohammedans. So much sufficed for the justification of our religion; for the old man did not like to talk much upon the subject, though he was strict in his prayers, as far as we were able to observe. He was a man of business, who desired to maintain some sort of order in a country where everything naturally inclines to turbulence and disorder. In other respects he allowed every man to do as he liked; and notwithstanding his practical severity, he was rather of a mild disposition, for he thought Europeans dreadful barbarians for slaughtering without pity such numbers of people in their battles, using big guns instead of spears and swords, which were, as he thought, the only manly and becoming weapons.

The 25th of November was a great market-day for our little settlement, for on the preceding day the long-expected caravan with provisions arrived from Damerghú, and all the people were buying their necessary supply; but we had much difficulty in obtaining what we wanted, as all our things, even the few dollars we had still left, were depreciated, and estimated at more than 30 per cent. less than their real value. After having recovered in Ágades a little from the weakness of my stomach, by the aid of the princely dishes sent me by ʿAbd el Káder, I had, notwithstanding the fine cool weather, once more to suffer from the effects of our almost raw and bitter dishes of Guinea-corn, and the more so as I had no tea left to wash down this unpalatable and indigestible paste; and I felt more than common delight when we were regaled on the 27th by a fine strong soup made from the meat of the bullock which we had bought from Ánnur for twelve thousand kurdí. It was a day of great rejoicing, and a new epoch in our peaceful and dull existence, in consequence of which I found my health greatly restored.

Our patience, indeed, was tried to the utmost, and I looked for some moments with a sort of despair into Hámma’s face, when, on his return from a mission to the Éfadaye, which seemed not to have been quite successful, he told me on the 28th of November that we should still make a stay here of twenty-five days. Fortunately he always chose to view things on the worst side, and I was happy to be assured by the old chief himself that our stay here would certainly not exceed fifteen days. Nevertheless, as the first short days of our sham travelling afterwards convinced me, the veracious Hámma, who had never deceived me, was in reality quite right in his statement. My friend came to take leave of me, as he was to absent himself for a few days, in order to visit an elder sister of his, who lived in Telíshiet, further up the valley of Tin-téggana; and of course I had to supply him with some handsome little production of European manufacture.

We had full reason to admire the energy of the old chief, who on the 30th of November went to a “privy council” with Mʿallem Azóri and Sultan Astáfidet, which was appointed to be held in some solitary glen, half-way between Tin-téggana and Asodi, and, after he had returned late in the evening of the 1st of December, was galloping along our encampment in the morning of the 2nd, in order to visit the new watering-place lower down in the principal valley, the former well beginning to dry up, or rather requiring to be dug to a greater depth, as the moisture collected during the rainy season was gradually receding. This was the first time we saw our friend on horseback; and though he was seventy-six years of age, he sat very well and upright in his saddle. Overweg went on one of the following days to see the well (which was about four miles distant from our encampment, in a west-north-west direction, beyond a little village of the name of Óbrasen), but found it rather a basin formed between the rocky cliffs, and fed, according to report, by a spring.

Meanwhile I was surprised to learn from Mohammed Byrji, Ánnur’s grandson, and next claimant to the succession after Háj ʿAbdúwa, that the last-named, together with el Usu or Lúsu, the influential chief of Azanéres, and el Hossén, had started for the south six days previously, in order to purchase provisions for the salt caravan. In this little country something is always going on, and the people all appear to lead a very restless life; what wonder, then, if most of them are the progeny of wayfarers, begotten from fortuitous and short-lived matches? Perhaps in no country is domestic life wanting to such a degree as among the Kél-owí properly so called, but it would be wrong to include in this category the tribes of purer blood living at some distance from this centre of the salt trade.

At length, on the 5th of December, the first body of the salt caravan arrived from Bilma, opening the prospect of a speedy departure from this our African home; but although we were very eager to obtain a glance at them, they did not become visible, but kept further to the west. The following evening, however, several friends and partisans of the old chief arrived, mounted on mehára, and were received by the women with loud, shrill cries of welcome (“tirlelák” in Temáshight), very similar to the “tehlíl” of the Arabs.

Saturday, December 7.—Preparations were now gradually made for our setting out; but previously it was necessary to provide a supply of water, not only for the immediate use of the numerous salt caravan, but for the constant one of those people who were to remain behind during the absence of their chief and master. Accordingly, on the 7th of December the old chief left our encampment, with all his people, in solemn procession, in order to dig a new well; and after having long searched with a spear for the most favourable spot, they set to work close to the entrance of a small branch wady, joining the main valley from the east side, not far from Ádode; and having obtained a sufficient supply of water, they walled the well in with branches and stones, so that it was capable of retaining water at least till the beginning of the next rainy season, when, most probably, the floods would destroy it. There are, indeed, in these countries very few undertakings of this kind the existence of which is calculated upon for more than a year.

Meanwhile, during our long, lazy stay in this tranquil alpine retreat of the wilderness, after I had finished my report on Ágades, I began to study in a more comprehensive way the interesting language of that place, and in order to effect that purpose had been obliged to make a sort of treaty with that shameless profligate Zúmmuzuk, who for his exploits in Ágades had received severe punishment from his master. The chief conditions of our covenant were, that he was to receive every day a certain allowance, but that during his presence in my tent he was not to move from the place assigned him, the limits of which were very accurately defined—of course at a respectful distance from my luggage; and if he touched anything I was officially permitted by Ánnur to shoot him on the spot. Notwithstanding the coolness and reserve which I was obliged to adopt in my intercourse with this man, I was fully capable of estimating his veracity, and in the course of my journey and my researches I convinced myself that in no one instance did he deviate from the truth.

Going on in this way, I had completed, by the 8th of the month, an exact and full vocabulary of the Emgédesi language, and could with more leisure indulge in a conversation with my friend Ámagay, the chief eunuch and confidential servant of the Sultan of Ágades, who paid me a visit, and brought me the most recent news from the capital. Affairs were all in the best state, his business now being merely to arrange a few matters with Ánnur before the latter set out for Sudán. He informed me that the salt caravan of the Kél-gerés and Itísan had long ago returned from Bilma, taking with them our letter to the Sultan of Sókoto, and accompanied by Mohammed Bóro, who had taken all his children with him except those who were still attending school. Ámagay had also brought with him the curious letter from Mustapha, the Governor of Fezzán, which is spoken of by Mr. Richardson. I treated him with some coffee (which was now with me a very precious article, as I had but little left), and made him a small present.

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Thursday, December 12.—At length the day broke when we were to move on and get nearer the longed-for object of our journey, though we were aware that our first progress would be slow. But before we departed from this region, which had become so familiar to us, I wished to take a last glimpse down the valley towards Tin-téllust, and wandered towards the offshoots of Mount Búnday, which afforded me a fine prospect over the whole valley up to that beautiful mountain mass which forms so characteristic a feature in the configuration of the whole country. The hills which I ascended consisted of basalt, and formed a low ridge, which was separated from the principal mountain mass by a hollow of sandstone formation. Having bade farewell to the blue mountains of Tin-téllust, I took leave of the charming little valley Ofáyet, which, having been a few moments previously a busy scene of life, was now left to silence and solitude.

Late in the morning we began to move, but very slowly, halting every now and then. At length the old chief himself came up, walking like a young man before his méheri, which he led by the nose-cord, and the varied groups composing the caravan began to march more steadily. It was a whole nation in motion, the men on camels or on foot, the women on bullocks or on asses, with all the necessaries of the little household, as well as the houses themselves, a herd of cattle, another of milk-goats, and numbers of young camels running playfully alongside, and sometimes getting between the regular lines of the laden animals. The ground was very rocky and rugged, and looked bare and desolate in the extreme, the plain being strewn for a while with loose basaltic stones, like the Plain of Tághist.

Several high peaks characterize this volcanic region, and after having left to our right the peak called Ebárrasa, we encamped, a little before noon, at the north-eastern foot of a very conspicuous peak called Teléshera, which had long attracted my attention. We had scarcely chosen our ground when I set out on foot in order to ascend this high mountain, from which I expected to obtain a view over the eastern side of the picturesque mass of the Eghellál; but its ascent proved very difficult, chiefly because I had not exerted my strength much during our long stay in this country. The flanks of the peak, after I had ascended the offshoots, which consisted of sandstones, were most precipitous and abrupt, and covered with loose stones, which gave way under my feet, and often carried me a long way down. The summit consisted of perpendicular trachytic pillars, of quadrangular and almost regular form, 2½ ft. in thickness, as if cut by the hand of man, some of them about one hundred feet high, while others had been broken off at greater or less height. It is at least fifteen hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. The view was interesting, although the sky was not clear. I was able to take several angles, but the western flank of the Eghellál, which I was particularly anxious to obtain a sight of, was covered by other heights.

Beyond the branch wady which surrounds this mountain on the south side, there is a ridge ranging to a greater length, and rising from the ground with a very precipitous wall; this was examined by Mr. Overweg, and found to consist likewise of trachyte interspersed with black basaltic stone and crystals of glassy felspar. Having attained my purpose, I began my retreat, but found the descent more troublesome than the ascent, particularly as my boots were torn to pieces by the sharp stones; and the fragments giving way under my feet, I fell repeatedly. I was quite exhausted when I reached the tent, but a cup of strong coffee soon restored me. However, I never afterwards on my whole journey felt strong enough to ascend a mountain of moderate elevation.

Friday, December 13.—Starting rather late, we continued through the mountainous region, generally ascending, while a cold wind made our old friend the chief shiver and regard with feelings of envy my thick black bernús, although he had got bernúses enough from us not only to protect him against cold, but us too against any envious feeling for the little which was left us. Further on, in several places, the granite (which at the bottom of the valley alternates with sandstone) was perfectly disintegrated, and had become like meal. Here the passage narrowed for about an hour, when we obtained a view of a long range stretching out before us, with a considerable cone lying in front of it. Keeping now over rocky ground, then along the bottom of a valley called Tánegat, about half a mile broad, where we passed a well on our right, we at length reached a mountain spur starting off from the ridge on our right, and entered a beautiful broad plain, stretching out to the foot of a considerable mountain group, which was capped by a remarkable picturesquely indented cone called Mári. Here we saw the numerous camels of the salt caravan grazing in the distance to our left; and after having crossed a small rocky flat, we encamped in the very channel of the torrent, being certain that at this season no such danger as overwhelmed us in the valley Éghazar was to be feared. Ámagay, who was still with us, paid me a visit in the afternoon, and had a cup of coffee; he also came the next morning. Near our encampment were some fine acacia-trees of the species called gáwo, which I shall have to mention repeatedly in my travels.

Saturday, December 14.—We started early, but encamped, after a short march of about six miles, on uneven ground intersected by numbers of small ridges. The reason of the halt was that the whole of the caravan was to come up and to join together; and our old chief here put on his official dress (a yellow bernús of good quality), to show his dignity as leader of such a host of people.

Salt forms the only article conveyed by this caravan. The form of the largest cake is very remarkable; but it must be borne in mind that the salt in Bilma is in a fluid state, and is formed into this shape by pouring it into a wooden mould. This pedestal or loaf of salt (kántu) is equal to five of the smaller cakes, which are called áserím; and each áserím equals four of the smallest cakes, which are called fótu. The bags, made of the leaves of the dúm-palm (or the “kábba”), in which these loaves are packed up, are called “tákrufa.” But the finest salt is generally in loose grains, and this is the only palatable salt, while the ordinary salt of Bilma is very bitter to the European palate, and spoils everything; but the former is more than three times the value of the latter. The price paid in Bilma is but two zékkas for three kántus.

In the evening there was “urgí,” or “éddil” (playing), and “ráwa,” or “adéllul” (dancing), all over the large camp of the salt caravan, and the drummers, or “masugánga,” were all vying with each other, when I observed that our drummer, Hassan, who was proud of his talent, and used to call for a little present, was quite outdone by the drummer of that portion of the caravan which was nearest to us, who performed his work with great skill, and caused general enthusiasm among the dancing people. The many lively and merry scenes, ranging over a wide district, itself picturesque, and illuminated by large fires in the dusk of evening, presented a cheerful picture of animated native life, looking at which a traveller might easily forget the weak points discoverable in other phases of life in the desert.

Sunday, December 15.—The general start of the united “aïri,” or caravan, took place with great spirit; and a wild, enthusiastic cry, raised over the whole extent of the encampment, answered to the beating of the drums. For though the Kél-owí are greatly civilized by the influence of the black population, nevertheless they are still “half demons,” while the thoroughbred and freeborn Amóshagh (whatever name he may bear, whether Tárki, ba-Ásbenchi, Kindín, or Chapáto) is regarded by all the neighbouring tribes, Arabs as well as Africans, as a real demon (“jin”). Notwithstanding all this uproar, we were rather astonished at the small number of camels, laden with salt, which formed Ánnur’s caravan; for they did not exceed two hundred, and their loads in the aggregate would realize in Kanó at the very utmost three thousand dollars, which, if taken as the principal revenue of the chief, seems very little. The whole number of the caravan did not exceed two thousand camels.

However enthusiastically the people had answered to the call of the drums, the loading of the camels took a long time, and the old chief himself had remarkably few people to get ready his train; but the reason probably was that he was obliged to leave as many people behind as possible for the security of the country. When at length we set out, the view which presented itself was really highly exciting; for here a whole nation was in motion, going on its great errand of supplying the wants of other tribes, and bartering for what they stood in need of themselves. All the drums were beating, and one string of camels after the other marched up in martial order, led on by the “mádogu,” the most experienced and steadfast among the servants or followers of each chief. It was clear that our last night’s encampment had been chosen only on account of its being well protected all around by ridges of rock; for on setting out to-day we had to follow up, in the beginning, a course due west, in order to return into our main direction along the valley. We then gradually began to turn round the very remarkable Mount Mári, which here assumed the figure shown in the sketch. Further on I saw the people busy in digging up a species of edible bulbous roots called “adíllewan” by the Kél-owí. This, I think, besides the “bába,” or “níle” (the Indigofera endecaphylla) the first specimens of which we had observed two days ago shooting up unostentatiously among the herbage, was the most evident proof that we had left the region of the true desert, though we had still to cross a very sterile tract.

Having changed our direction from south to south-west, about noon we entered the high road coming directly from Ásodi, but which was, in fact, nothing better than a narrow pathway. Here we were winding through a labyrinth of large detached projecting blocks, while Mount Mári presented itself in an entirely different shape. Gradually the bottom of the valley became free from blocks, and we were crossing and recrossing the bed of the watercourse, when we met a small caravan belonging to my friend the Emgédesi Ídder, who had been to Damerghú to buy corn. Shortly afterwards, we encamped at the side of the watercourse, which is called Adóral, and which joins, further downwards, another channel, called Wéllek, which runs close along the western range. Here we saw the first specimens of the pendent nests of the weaver bird (Ploceus Abyssiniacus).

While I was filling up my journal in the afternoon I received a visit from Mohammed Byrji, who had this morning left Tin-téggana; he informed me that the women and the old men whom we had left there had not returned to Tin-téllust, but had gone to Tintághalén. All the population of the other villages in the northern districts of Aír were likewise retreating southwards during the absence of the salt caravan.

Monday, December 16.—On starting this morning we were glad to find some variety in the vegetation; for instead of the monotonous talha-trees, which with some justice have been called “vegetable mummies,” the whole valley-plain was adorned with beautiful spreading addwa- or tabórak-trees (the Balanites Ægyptiaca), the foliage of which often reached down to the very ground, forming a dense canopy of the freshest green. After winding along and crossing and recrossing the small channel, the path ascended the rocky ground, and we soon got sight of the mountains of Bághzen, looking out from behind the first mountain range, from whose southern end a point called Ánfisék rises to a considerable elevation. This higher level, however, was not bare and naked, but overgrown with the “knotted” grass bú rékkebah, and with the addwa- and gawo-tree, while on our left the broad but nevertheless sharply marked peak of Mount Mári towered over the whole, and gave to the landscape a peculiar character. At an early hour we encamped between buttresses of scattered blocks shooting out of the plain, which seems to stretch to the very foot of the Bághzen, and to be noted pre-eminently as the Plain, “erárar.”

In the afternoon I walked to a considerable distance, first to a hill south-west from our camp, from which I was able to take several angles, and then to the well. The latter was at the distance of a mile and a half from our tent in a westerly direction, and was carefully walled up with stones; it measured three fathoms and a half to the surface of the water, while the depth of the water itself was at present little less than three fathoms, so that it is evident that there is water here at all seasons. Its name is Albes. As, on account of our slow travelling, we had been four days without water, the meeting with a well was rather agreeable to us. Between the well and the foot of the mountain there was a temporary encampment of shepherds, who sent a sheep and a good deal of cheese to the old chief.

Here we remained the two following days, in order to repose from the fatigue of our sham travelling! I went once more all over my Emgédesi collection, and made a present to the servants of the mission, of twenty-two zékkas of Bílma dates, which I bought from the people of the caravan; they were all thankful for this little present. I was extremely glad to find that even the Tunisian shushán, when he had to receive orders only from me, behaved much better; and I wrote from his recital a Góber story which, as being characteristic of the imagination of the natives, and illustrating their ancient Pagan worship of the dodó, might perhaps prove of interest even to the general reader. The several divisions of the “aïri” came slowly up; among them we observed the Kél-azanéres, the people of Lúsu, the chief himself having gone on in advance, as I observed above.

Thursday, Dec. 19.—Our heavy caravan at length set out again, the camels having now recovered a little from the trying march over the naked desert which divides the mountainous district of Asben from the “hénderi-Tedá,” the fertile hollow of the Tébu country. It attracted my attention that the shrubby and thick-leaved “allwot” (the blue Cucifera mentioned before) had ceased altogether; even the eternal bú rékkebah began to be scarce, while only a few solitary trees were scattered about. While marching over this dreary plain, we noticed some Tébu merchants, natives of Dírki, with only three camels, who had come with the salt caravan from Bílma, and were going to Kanó; from them we learnt that a Tébu caravan had started from Kawár for Bórnu at the time of the ʿAïd el kebír. The example of these solitary travellers, indeed, might perhaps be followed with advantage by Europeans also, in order to avoid the country of the Azkár and the insecure border districts of the Kél-owí, especially if they chose to stay in the Tébu oasis till they had obtained the protection of one of the great men of this country. For a little while the plain was adorned with talha-trees; but then it became very rugged, like a rough floor of black basalt, through which wound a narrow path, pressing the whole caravan into one long string. At length, at half-past two o’clock in the afternoon, after having traversed extremely rugged ground, we began to descend from this broad basaltic level, and having crossed the dry watercourse of a winter torrent, entered the valley Télliya, which has a good supply of trees, but very little herbage. A cemetery here gave indication of the occasional or temporary residence of nomadic settlers.

On ascending again from the bottom of the valley to a higher level, and looking backwards, we obtained a fine view of Mount Ajúri, at the foot of which lies Chémia, a valley and village celebrated for its date-trees. It was not our fate to see any of those places in Asben which are distinguished by the presence of this tree—neither the valley just mentioned, nor Iferwán, nor Ir-n-Allem; and a visit to them will form one of the interesting objects of some future traveller in this country. Having kept along the plain for an hour, we encamped at a little distance west from the dry bed of a watercourse running from north to south along the eastern foot of a low basaltic ridge, with a fine display of trees, but a scanty one of herbage. I went to ascend the ridge, supposing it to be connected with the Bághzen, but found that it was completely separated from the latter by a depression or hollow quite bare and naked.

This was the best point from whence to obtain a view over the eastern flank of Mount Bághzen, with its deep crevices or ravines, which seemed to separate the mountain mass into several distinct groups; and in the evening I made the sketch of it given here.

However, we had full leisure to contemplate this mountain, which is not distinguished by great elevation, the highest peaks being little more than two thousand feet above the plain; but it is interesting, as consisting probably of basaltic formation. We stayed here longer than we desired, as we did not find an opportunity to penetrate into the glens in its interior, which, from this place seem excessively barren, but are said to contain some favoured and inhabited spots, where even corn is reared. But our companions spoke with timorous exclamations of the numbers of lions which infest these retired mountain passes, and not one of them would offer himself as a companion. The reason of our longer stay in this place was that our camels had strayed to a very great distance southwards, so that they could not be found in the forenoon of the following day. The blame of letting them stray was thrown upon Hassan, whose inferiority as a drummer I had occasion to notice above. How he was punished Mr. Richardson has described; and I will only add that the handkerchief which he paid was to be given to the “serkí-n-kárfi” (“the taskmaster,” properly “the master of the iron” or “of the force”); but the whole affair was rather a piece of pleasantry.

In the morning Mghás, the chief of Téllwa, a fine, sturdy man, mounted upon a strong grey horse, passed by, going southward, followed by a long string of camels; and shortly afterwards a small caravan of people of Selúfiet, who had bought corn in Damerghú, passed in the opposite direction.

Saturday, Dec. 21.—The weather was clear and cheerful, and the sun was warmer than hitherto. We went on, and approached a district more favoured by nature, when, having passed an irregular formation in a state of great decomposition, we reached, about ten o’clock, the valley Unán, or rather a branch wady of the chief valley of that name, where dúm-palms began to appear, at first solitary and scattered about, but gradually forming a handsome grove, particularly after the junction with the chief valley, where a thick cluster of verdure, formed by a variety of trees, greeted the eye. There is also a village of the name of Unán, lying on the border of the principal valley a little higher up, and wells occur in different spots. But the valley was not merely rich in vegetation—it was the richest, indeed, as yet seen on this road—it was also enlivened by man; and after we had met two Íghdalén whom I had known in Ágades, we passed a large troop of Ikádmawen, who were busy watering their camels, cattle, and goats at one of the wells. We also saw here the first specimens of stone houses which characterize the district to which the valley Unán forms the entrance-hall, if I may use the expression. On its western side is an irregular plain, where a division of the salt caravan lay encamped.

Proceeding then, after midday we passed by a low white cone on our left, after which the valley, with its variety of vegetation, and animated as it was by numerous herds of goats, made a cheerful impression. Here the remains of stone dwellings became numerous, and further on we passed an entire village consisting of such houses, which, as I was distinctly informed, constituted in former times one of the principal settlements of the Kél-gerés, who were then masters of all the territory as far as the road to Ágades. The whole valley here formed a thick grove of dúm-palms, and stone houses, entire or in ruins, were scattered all about. About three o’clock in the afternoon we left it for an hour, traversing a rocky flat with a low ridge of basalt ranging on our right, when we descended again into the dúm valley, which had been winding round on the same side, and encamped, at half-past four o’clock in the afternoon, in the midst of very wild and rank vegetation, nourished by an immense torrent, which occasionally rolls its floods along the channel, and which had left, on the stems of the baggarúwa-trees with which it was lined, evident traces of the depth which it may sometimes attain. The bed of the torrent was thickly overgrown with wild melons.

Although there is no well in the neighbourhood, we were to stay here the two following days, in order to give the camels a good feed. A well, called Tánis-n-tánode, lies lower down the valley, but at a considerable distance. The valley itself runs south-westward: by some it is said to join the Erázar-n-Bargót; but this seems scarcely possible. Numerous flocks of wild pigeons passed over our heads the following morning, looking for water. The monotony of the halt was interrupted, in the course of the day, by the arrival of Hámma, who had been to Afasás, and by that of Astáfidet, the young titular Kél-owí chief residing in Ásodi, among whose companions or followers was a very intelligent and communicative man of the name of el Hasár, who gave me a great deal of interesting information. All the eminences in the neighbourhood consist of basaltic formation.

Tuesday, Dec. 24.—We again moved on a little, following the rich valley, which in some places reminded me of the scenery of the Upper Nile, the only difference being that here the broad sandy bottom of the watercourse takes the place of the fine river in the scenery of Nubia. We made a short halt on the road, in order to supply ourselves with water from the well which I mentioned before. About noon the fresh, fleshy allwot, which had not been observed by us for several days, again appeared, to the great delight of the camels, which like it more than anything else, and, having been deprived of it for some time, attacked it with the utmost greediness. Two miles and a half further on, where the valley widened to a sort of irregular plain with several little channels, we encamped; there was a profusion of herbage all around.

It was Christmas Eve, but we had nothing to celebrate it with, and we were cast down by the sad news of the appearance of the cholera in Tripoli. This we had learned during our march, from a small caravan which had left that place three months previously without bringing us a single line, or even as much as a greeting. The eternal bitter “túwo” was to be devoured to-day also, as we had no means of adding a little festivity to our repast. We remained here the two following days, and were entertained on the morning of Christmas Day by a performance of Astáfidet’s musicians. This was a somewhat cheerful holiday entertainment, although our visitors had not that object in view, but merely plied their talents to obtain a present. There were only two of them, a drummer and a flautist; and though they did not much excel the other virtuosi of the country, whose abilities we had already tested, nevertheless, having regard to the occasion, we were greatly pleased with them. Here I took leave of my best Kél-owí friend, Hámma, a trustworthy man in every respect—except, perhaps, as regards the softer sex—and a cheerful companion, to whom the whole mission, and I in particular, were under great obligations. He, as well as Mohammed Byrji, the youthful grandson of Ánnur, who accompanied him on this occasion, were to return hence with Astáfidet, in order to assist this young titular prince in his arduous task of maintaining order in the country during the absence of the old chief and the greater part of the male population of the north-eastern districts. They were both cheerful, though they felt some sorrow at parting; but they consoled themselves with the hope of seeing me again one day. But, poor fellows, they were both doomed to fall in the sanguinary struggle which broke out between the Kél-gerés and the Kél-owí in 1854.

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Friday, Dec. 27.—At length we were to exchange our too easy wandering for the rate of real travelling. Early in the morning a consultation was held with the elder men of the Kél-táfidet, who had come from their villages. We then set out, taking leave of the regions behind us, and looking forward with confidence and hope to the unknown or half-known regions before us. The valley continued to be well clothed with a profusion of herbage, but it was closely hemmed in on both sides; after a march, however, of four miles and a half, it widened again to more than a mile, and began gradually to lose its character of a valley altogether; but even here the allwot was still seen, although of a stunted and dry appearance. We then left the green hollow which is the valley Bargót, and I thought we should now enter upon the Hammáda, or “ténere;” but after a while the valley again approached close on our left. To my disappointment, we encamped even before noon, at the easy northern slope of the rocky ground, where there is a watering-place called Aghálle. The afternoon, however, passed away very pleasantly, as I had a conversation with the old chief, who honoured me with a visit, and touched on many points of the highest interest.

Saturday, Dec. 28.—Starting at a tolerably early hour, we ascended the slope; but no sooner had we reached the level of the plain than we halted, beating the drum until all the different strings of camels had come up; we then proceeded. At first the plain consisted almost exclusively of gravel overgrown with herbage and allwot, with only now and then a rock seen projecting; but gradually it became more pebbly, and was then intersected by a great many low crests of rock, consisting chiefly of gneiss. We gradually ascended towards a low ridge called Abadárjen, remarkable as forming in this district the northern border of the elevated sandy plain which seems to stretch across a great part of the continent, and forms the real transition land between the rocky wilderness of the desert and the fertile arable zone of Central Africa. This sandy ledge is the real home of the giraffe and of the Antilope leucoryx. Just about noon we entered upon this district, leaving the rocky range at less than a mile on our left, and seeing before us a sandy level, broken only now and then by blocks of granite thickly overgrown with the “knotted” grass called bú rékkebah, and dotted with scattered talha-trees. Two miles further on we encamped. A very long ear of géro (Pennisetum typhoïdeum), which was broken from a plant growing wild near the border of the path, was the most interesting object met with to-day, while an ostrich egg, though accidentally the very first which we had yet seen on this journey, afforded us more material interest, as it enabled us to indulge our palates with a little tasteful hors d’œuvre, which caused us more delight, perhaps, than scientific travellers are strictly justified in deriving from such causes. Our caravan to-day had been joined by Gajére, a faithful servant of Ánnur, who was coming from Ágades, and who, though a stranger at the time, very shortly became closely attached to me, and at present figures among the most agreeable reminiscences of my journey.

Sunday, Dec. 29.—When we started we were surprised at the quantity of hád with which the plain began to be covered. This excellent plant is regarded by the Arab as the most nutritious of all the herbs of the desert, for the camel, and in the western part of that arid zone it seems to constitute its chief food. Numerous footprints of giraffes were seen, besides those of gazelles and ostriches, and towards the end of the march those of the Welwaiji, the large and beautiful antelope called leucoryx, from the skin of which the Tuarek make their large bucklers. Further on, the plain presented some ups and downs, being at times naked, at others well wooded and overgrown with grass. At length, after a good day’s march, we encamped. To-day we made the acquaintance of another native of Middle Sudán, the name of which plays a very important part in the nomenclature of articles of the daily market in all the towns and villages. This was the mágaria (called by the Kanúri “kúsulu”), a middle-sized tree, with small leaves of olive-green colour, and producing a fruit nearly equal in size to a small cherry, but in other respects more resembling the fruit of the cornel (Cornus), and of light-brown colour. This fruit, when dried, is pounded and formed into little cakes, which are sold all over Háusa as “túwo-n-magária,” and may be safely eaten in small quantities even by a European, to allay his hunger for a while, till he can obtain something more substantial; for it certainly is not a very solid food, and if eaten in great quantities has a very mawkish taste.

While the cattle and the asses went on already in the dark, the camels were left out during the night to pick up what food they could; but early in the morning, when they were to be brought back, a great many of Ánnur’s camels could not be found. Hereupon the old chief himself set his people an example, and galloping to the spot where their traces had been lost, he recovered the camels, which were brought in at an early hour. Meanwhile, however, being informed how difficult it would be to obtain water at the well before us, in the scramble of people which was sure to take place, I arranged with Overweg that while I remained behind, with Mohammed and the things, he should go on in advance, with the Gatróni and Ibrahim, to fill the water-skins; and we afterwards had reason to congratulate ourselves on this arrangement, for the well, though spacious and built up with wood, contained at the time but a very moderate supply of muddy water for so large a number of men and beasts. Its name is Terguláwen. This locality, desolate and bare in the extreme, is considered most dangerous on account of the continual ghazzias of the Awelímmiden and Kél-gerés, who are sure to surprise and carry off the straggling travellers who, if they would not perish by thirst, must resort to this well. Our whole road from our encampment, for more than seven hours and a half, led over bare, barren sand-hills. The camping-ground was chosen at no great distance beyond the well, in a shallow valley or depression ranging east and west, and bordered by sand-hills on its south side, with a little sprinkling of herbage. The wind, which came down with a cold blast from the north-north-east, was so strong that we had great difficulty in pitching the tent.

Tuesday, Dec. 31.—Last day of 1850. A cold day, and a mountainous country. After we had crossed the sand-hills, there was nothing before us but one flat expanse of sand, mostly bare, and clothed with trees only in favoured spots. The most remarkable phenomenon was the appearance of the feathery bristle, the Pennisetum distichum, which on the road to Ágades begins much further northwards. Indeed, when we encamped we had some difficulty in finding a spot free from this nuisance, though of course the strong wind carried the seeds to a great distance. All our enjoyment of the last evening of the old year centred in an extra dish of two ostrich eggs.

Wednesday, Jan. 1, 1851.—This morning the condition in which the people composing the caravan crawled out of their berths was most miserable and piteous; and moreover, nobody thought of starting early, as several camels had been lost. At length, when the intense cold began to abate, and when the animals had been found, everybody endeavoured to free himself and his clothing from the bristles, which joined each part of his dress to the others like so many needles; but what one succeeded in getting rid of was immediately carried by the strong wind to another, so that all were in every respect peevish when they set out at half-past nine o’clock. Nevertheless the day was to be a very important one to me, and one on which princely favour was to be shown to me in a most marked manner.

I have remarked above that on the day I started for Ágades the old chief made a present of a bullock to the other members of the mission; but in this present I myself did not participate, and I had not yet received anything from him. Perhaps he was sensible of this, and wanted to give me likewise a proof of his royal generosity; but I am afraid he was at the same time actuated by feelings of a very different nature. He had several times praised my Turkish jacket, and I had consoled him with a razor or some other trifle; he had avowedly coveted my warm black bernús, and had effected, by his frank intimations, nothing more than to make me draw my warm clothing closer round my body. In order to bear the fatigue of the journey more easily, he had long ago exchanged the little narrow kígi, or méheri-saddle, for the broad pack-saddle, with a load of salt, as a secure seat.

He was one of the foremost in his string, while I, mounted upon my Bu-Séfi (who, since the loss of my méheri, had once more become my favourite saddle-horse), was riding outside the caravan, separated from him by several strings of camels. He called me by name; and on my answering his call, he invited me to come to him: to do this I had to ride round all the strings. At length I reached him. He began to complain of the intense cold, from which he was suffering so acutely, while I seemed to be so comfortable in my warm clothes; then he asked if the ostrich eggs of yesterday evening had pleased us, whereupon I told him that his people had cheered us greatly by contributing, with their gift, to enable us to celebrate our chief festival. He then put his hand into his knapsack, and drawing forth a little cheese, and lifting it high up, so that all his people might see it, he presented the princely gift to me, with a gracious and condescending air, as a “mágani-n-dári” (a remedy against the cold), words which I, indeed, was not sure whether they were not meant ironically, as an intimation that I had withheld from him the real mágani-n-dári, my black bernús.

We were gladdened when, about noon, the plain became clothed with brushwood, and after a while also with bú rékkebah. Large troops of ostriches were seen—once a whole family, the parents, with several young ones of various ages, all running in single file, one after the other. We encamped at half-past three in the afternoon, on a spot tolerably free from karéngia, where we observed a great many holes of the fox, the fének, or ñauñáwa (Megalotis famelicus), particularly in the neighbourhood of ant-hills. There were also the larger holes of the earth-hog (Orycteropus Æthiopicus), an animal which never leaves its hole in the daytime, and is rarely seen even by the natives. The holes, which are from fourteen to sixteen inches in diameter, and descend gradually, are generally made with great accuracy.

The following day the country during the first part of our march continued rather bare; but after half-past two in the afternoon it became richer in trees and bushes, forming the southern zone of this sandy inland plateau, which admits of pastoral settlements. The elevation of this plain or transition zone seems to be in general about two thousand feet above the level of the sea. We encamped at length in the midst of prickly underwood, and had a good deal of trouble before we could clear a spot for pitching the tent.

Friday, Jan. 3.—Soon after setting out on our march, we met a caravan consisting of twenty oxen laden with corn, and further on passed a herd of cattle belonging to the Tagáma, a most cheerful sight to us. We then encamped, before ten o’clock, a little beyond a village of the same tribe, which, from a neighbouring well, bears the name In-asámet. The village consisted of huts exactly of the kind described by Leo; for they were built of mats (stuore) erected upon stalks (frasche), and covered with hides over a layer of branches, and were very low. Numbers of children and cattle gave to the encampment a lively aspect. The well is rather deep, not less than seventeen fathoms.

We had scarcely encamped, when we were visited by the male inhabitants of the village, mounted upon a small, ill-looking breed of horses. They proved to be somewhat troublesome, instigated as they were by curiosity, as well as by their begging propensities; but in order to learn as much as possible, I thought it better to sacrifice the comfort of my tent, and converse with them. They were generally tall men, and much fairer than the Kél-owí; but in their customs they showed that they had fallen off much from ancient usages, through intercourse with strangers. The women not only made the first advances, but, what is worse, they were offered even by the men—their brethren or husbands. Even those among the men whose behaviour was least vile and revolting did not cease urging us to engage with the women, who failed not to present themselves soon afterwards. It could scarcely be taken as a joke. Some of the women were immensely fat, particularly in the hinder regions, for which the Tuarek have a peculiar and expressive name—tebúllodén. Their features were very regular, and their skin was fair. The two most distinguished amongst them gave me their names as Shabó and Támatu, which latter word, though signifying “woman” in general, may nevertheless be also used as a proper name. The wealthier among them were dressed in black túrkedí and the zénne, the poorer in white cotton. The dress of most of the men was also white, but the chief peculiarity of the latter was, that several of them wore their hair hanging down in long tresses. This is a token of their being Aníslimen, or Merábetín (holy men), which character they assume notwithstanding their dissolute manners. They have no school, but pride themselves on having a mʿallem appointed at their mesállaje, which must be miserable enough. Having once allowed the people to come into my tent, I could not clear it again the whole day. The names of the more respectable among the men were Kílle, el Khassén, Efárret, Cháy, Ríssa, Khándel, and Amaghár (properly “the Elder”). All these people, men and women, brought with them a variety of objects for sale, and I bought from them some dried meat of the welwaiji (Antilope leucoryx), which proved to be very fine, as good as beef; others, however, asserted that it was the flesh of the “rákomi-n-dáwa,” or giraffe.

Hunting, together with cattle-breeding, is the chief occupation of the Tagáma, and they are expert enough with their little swift horses to catch the large antelope as well as the giraffe. Others engage in the salt trade, and accompany the Kél-gerés on their way to Bilma, without, however, following them to Sókoto, where, for the reason which I shall presently explain, they are not now allowed to enter; but they bring their salt to Kanó. In this respect the Tagáma acknowledge also, in a certain degree, the supremacy of the Sultan of Agades. Their slaves were busy in collecting and pounding the seeds of the karéngia, or úzak (Pennisetum distichum), which constitutes a great part of their food. Whatever may be got here is procurable only with money; even the water is sold, the waterskin for a zekka of millet; but of course grain is here very much cheaper than in Aír, and even than in Ágades. Altogether the Tagáma form at present a very small tribe, able to muster, at the utmost, three hundred spears; but most of them are mounted on horseback. Formerly, however, they were far more numerous, till Íbram, the father of the present chief, undertook, with the assistance of the Kél-gerés, the unfortunate expedition against Sókoto (then governed by Bello), of which Clapperton has given a somewhat exaggerated account. The country around is said to be greatly infested by lions, which often carry off camels.

Saturday, Jan. 4.—Our setting out this morning, after the camels were all laden and the men mounted, was retarded by the arrival of a queen of the desert, a beauty of the first rank, at least as regarded her dimensions. The lady, with really handsome features, was mounted upon a white bullock, which snorted violently under his immense burden. Nevertheless this luxurious specimen of womankind was sickly, and required the assistance of the tabíb, or “ne-meglán,” a title which Overweg had earned for himself by his doctoring, though his practice was rather of a remarkable kind; for he used generally to treat his patients, not according to the character of their sickness, but according to the days of the week on which they came. Thus he had one day of calomel, another of Dover’s powder, one of Epsom salts, one of magnesia, one of tartar emetic, the two remaining days being devoted to some other medicines; and it of course sometimes happened that the man who suffered from diarrhœa got Epsom salts, and he who required opening medicine was blessed with a dose of Dover’s powder. Of course my friend made numerous exceptions to this calendary method of treating disease, whenever time and circumstances allowed him to study more fully the state of a patient. However, in the hurry in which we just then were he could scarcely make out what the imaginary or real infirmity of this lady was, and I cannot say what she got. She was certainly a woman of great authority, as the old chief himself was full of kind regard and deference to her. We were rather astonished that he exchanged here his brown mare for a lean white horse, the owners of which seemed, with good reason, excessively delighted with their bargain. At length we got off, proceeding towards the land of promise in an almost direct southerly course. After three miles’ march, the thick bush “dílu” made its appearance in the denser underwood, and the country became more hilly and full of ant-holes, while in the distance ahead of us, a little to our left, a low range became visible, stretching east and west. Suddenly the ground became a rocky flat, and the whole caravan was thrown into disorder. We did not at first perceive its cause, till we saw, to our great astonishment, that a steep descent by a regular terrace was here formed, at least a hundred feet high, which conducted to a lower level—the first distinct proof that we had passed the Hammáda. The vegetation here was different, and a new plant made its appearance, called “ágwau,” a middle-sized bush, consisting of a dense cluster of thick branches of very white wood, at present without leaves, the young shoots just coming out; melons also were plentiful here, but they had no taste. The rocky descent only extended to a short distance towards the west, when it broke off, while on our left it stretched far to the south-east. When we had kept along this plain for a little more than two miles, we passed, a short distance on our right, a large pond, or “tébki,” of water, called “Fárak,” spreading out in a hollow. I had here a long conversation with my frolicsome friend Mohammed Ánnur’s cousin, who was also going to Sudán; I told him that his uncle seemed to know his people well, and showed his wisdom in not leaving such a wanton youngster as himself behind him. He was, as usual, full of good humour, and informed me that Ánnur’s troop was almost the first, being preceded only by the caravan of Sálah, the chief of Égéllat. He prided himself again on his exploits in the late ghazzia, when they had overtaken the Éfadaye marauders in Tálak and Búgarén. Further on we passed the well called Fárak, which was now dry, and encamped two miles beyond it in a district thickly overgrown with karéngias.

Sunday, Jan. 5.—We had scarcely started, when I observed an entirely new species of plant, which is rather rare in Central Negroland, and which I afterwards met in considerable quantities along the north shore of the so-called Niger, between Timbúktu and Tosáye. It is here, in Háusa, called “kumkúmmia,” a euphorbia growing from one and a half to two feet in height, and is very poisonous; indeed, hereabouts, as in other districts of Central Africa, it furnishes the chief material with which arrows are poisoned. The principal vegetation consisted of “árza” (a species of laurel) and dílu; and further on parasitical plants were seen, but not in a very vigorous state. Altogether the country announced its fertility by its appearance, and a little before noon, when low ranges of hills encompassed the view on both sides, and gave it a more pleasant character, we passed, close on our left, another pastoral settlement of half mat and half leather tents, enlivened by numerous cattle and flocks, and leaning against a beautiful cluster of most luxuriant trees. But more cheerful still was the aspect of a little lake or tank of considerable extent, and bordered all around with the thickest grove of luxuriant acacias of the kind called “baggarúwa,” which formed overhead a dense and most beautiful canopy. This little lake is called “Gúmrek,” and was full of cattle, which came hither to cool themselves in the shade during the hot hours of the day. In this pleasant scenery we marched along, while a good number of horsemen collected around us, and gave us a little trouble; but I liked them far better, with their rough and warlike appearance, than their more civilized and degraded brethren of the day before. At about half-past two we encamped on the border of a dry watercourse with a white sandy bed, such as we had not seen for a long time. But here we made the acquaintance of a new plant and a new nuisance; this is the “aidó,” a grass with a prickly involucrum of black colour, and of larger size and stronger prickles than the karéngia (or Pennisetum distichum), and more dangerous for naked feet than for the clothes. A new string of camels joined us here, led on by Mohammed Ánnur.

Monday, Jan. 6.—We were greatly surprised at the appearance of the weather this morning; the sky was covered with thick clouds, and even a light rain fell while the caravan was loading. We felt some fear on account of the salt; but the rain soon ceased. In the course of my travels, principally during my stay in Timbúktu, I had more opportunities of observing these little incidental rainfalls of the cold season, or “the black nights,” during January and February; and further on, as occasion offers, I shall state the result of my observations.

At a little more than a mile from our camping ground, the aspect of the country became greatly changed, and we ascended a hilly country of a very remarkable character, the tops of the hills looking bare, and partly of a deep, partly of a greyish black, like so many mounds of volcanic débris, while the openings or hollows were clothed with underwood. Here our companions began already to collect wood as a provision for the woodless corn-fields of Damerghú; but we were as yet some distance off. Ascending gradually, we reached the highest point at nine o’clock, while close on our right we had a hill rising to greater elevation, and here we obtained an interesting view, just as the sun burst through the clouds, over the hilly country before us, through which a bushy depression ran in a very winding course. Along this tortuous thread of underwood lay our path. As we were proceeding, Ibrahím, our Furáwi freeman, who was a very good marksman for a black, brought down a large lizard (Draconina) “demmó,” or, as the Arabs call it, “wárel,” which was sunning itself on a tree; it is regarded by the people as a great delicacy. A little before noon the country seemed to become more open, but only to be covered with rank reeds ten feet high—quite a new sight for us, and a great inconvenience to the camels, which stumbled along over the little hillocks from which the bunches of reeds shot forth. Further on, the ground (being evidently very marshy during the rainy season) was so greatly torn and rent by deep fissures that the caravan was obliged to separate into two distinct parties. The very pleasant and truly park-like hilly country continued nearly unchanged till one o’clock in the afternoon, when, at a considerable distance on our left, we got sight of the first corn-fields of Damerghú, belonging to the villages of Kulakérki and Banuwélki.

This was certainly an important stage in our journey. For although we had before seen a few small patches of garden-fields, where corn was produced (as in Selúfiet, Áuderas, and other favoured places), yet they were on so small a scale as to be incapable of sustaining even a small fraction of the population; but here we had at length reached those fertile regions of Central Africa which are not only able to sustain their own population, but even to export to foreign countries. My heart gladdened at this sight, and I felt thankful to Providence that our endeavours had been so far crowned with success; for here a more promising field for our labours was opened, which might become of the utmost importance in the future history of mankind.

We soon after saw another village, which several of our companions named Olalówa, and which may indeed be so called, although I thought at the time they applied to it the name of the more famous place further on, with which they were acquainted, and I afterwards convinced myself that such was really the case. The country became open and level, the whole ground being split and rent by fissures. While I was indulging in pleasing reveries of new discoveries and successful return, I was suddenly startled by three horsemen riding up to me and saluting me with a “Lá ílah ilá Allah.” It was Dan Íbra (or Íbram, the “Son of Ibrahím”), the famous and dreaded chief of the Tamizgída, whom the ruler of Tin-téllust himself in former times had not been able to subdue, but had been obliged to pay him a sort of small tribute or transit-money, in order to secure the unmolested passage of his caravans on their way to Sudán. The warlike chief had put on all his finery, wearing a handsome blue bernús, with gold embroidery, over a rich Sudán tobe, and was tolerably well mounted. I answered his salute, swearing by Allah that I knew Allah better than he himself, when he became more friendly, and exchanged with me a few phrases, asking me what we wanted to see in this country. He then went to take his turn with Mr. Richardson. I plainly saw that if we had not been accompanied by Ánnur himself, and almost all our luggage sent on in advance, we should have had here much more serious colloquies.

After having ascended a little from the lower ground, where evidently, during the rains, a large sheet of water collects, and having left on our right a little village surrounded by stubble-fields, we passed along the western foot of the gently sloping ground on whose summit lies the village (“úngwa”) Sámmit. It was past four o’clock in the afternoon when we encamped upon an open stubble-field, and we were greatly cheered at observing here the first specimen of industry in a good sense; for of industry in a bad sense the Tagáma had already given us some proof. As soon as we were dismounted two muscular blacks, girded with leather aprons round their loins, came bounding forward, and in an instant cleared the whole open space around us, while in a few minutes several people, male and female, followed, offering a variety of things for sale, such as millet, beans (of two sorts), and those cakes called dodówa, which were duly appreciated by the late Captain Clapperton for the excellent soup made of them. Of their preparation I shall speak when we meet the first tree of that species, the dorówa, the name of the cake and that of the tree being distinguished by the change of a consonant. The cakes obtained here, however, as I afterwards learned, were of a most inferior and spurious character—of that kind called “dodówa-n-bósso” in Háusa, and in some districts “yákwa.” We felt here the benefit of civilization in a most palpable way, by getting most excellent chicken broth for our supper. Our servants, indeed, were cooking the whole night.

Tuesday, Jan. 7.—There were again a few drops of rain in the morning. Soon after starting, we were greeted by the aspect of a few green kitchen-gardens, while we were still gradually ascending. On reaching the highest level, we obtained a sight of the mountains of Damerghú (“dúwatsu-n-Damerghú,” as they are called), a low range stretching parallel with the road towards the east, while ahead of us, and westward, the country was entirely open, resembling one unbroken stubble-field. Having crossed a hollow with a dry pond and some trees, we had at about eight o’clock a village close on our right, where, for the first time, I saw that peculiar style of architecture which, with some more or less important varieties, extends through the whole of Central Africa.

These huts, in as far as they are generally erected entirely with the stalks of the Indian corn, almost without any other support except that derived from the feeble branches of the Asclepias gigantea, certainly do not possess the solidity of the huts of the villages of Asben, which are supported by a strong framework of branches and young trees; but they greatly surpass them in cleanliness, on account of the large available supply of the light material of which they are built. It is, however, to be remarked that the inhabitants of this district depend in a great measure for their fuel, too, upon the stalks of the Indian corn. The huts in general are lower than those in Asben, and are distinguished from them entirely by the curved top of the thatched roof, which sustains the whole. In examining these structures one cannot but feel surprised at the great similarity which they bear to the huts of the aboriginal inhabitants of Latium, such as they are described by Vitruvius and other authors, and represented occasionally on terra-cotta utensils, while the name in the Bórnu or Kanúri language, “kósi,” bears a remarkable resemblance to the Latin name “casa,” however accidental it may be. It is still more remarkable that a similar name, “kúde,” is given to a cottage in the Tamil and other Asiatic languages.

More remarkable and peculiar than the huts, and equally new and interesting to us, as the most evident symptom of the great productiveness of this country, were the little stacks of corn scattered among the huts, and in reality consisting of nothing but an enormous basket made of reeds, and placed upon a scaffold of thick pieces of wood about two feet high, in order to protect the corn against the “kúsu” and the “gará” (the mouse and the ant), and covered over on the top with a thatched roof, like that of the huts. Of these little corn-stacks we shall find some most interesting architectural varieties in the course of our travels. The “gará,” or white ant (Termes fatalis), is here the greatest nuisance, being most destructive to the corn, as well as to all softer kinds of house-furniture, or rather to the houses themselves. Every possible precaution must be taken against it. The “kúsu,” or mouse, abounds here in great numbers, and of several species: particularly frequent is the jerbóa (dipus) which for the traveller certainly forms a very pleasant object to look at as it jumps about on the fields, but not so to the native, who is anxious about his corn.

While reflecting on the feeble resistance which this kind of architecture must necessarily offer in case of conflagration, particularly as water is at so great a distance, I perceived almost opposite to this little hamlet a larger one, called Mája, on the other side of the road, and shaded by some thorn-trees. From both villages the people came forth to offer cheese and Indian corn for sale. They differed widely from the fanatical people among whom we had been travelling; most of them were Pagans and slaves. Their dress was mean and scanty; this of course is an expensive article in a country where no cotton is produced, and where articles of dress can only be obtained in exchange for the produce of the country. On a field near the path the Guinea-corn was still lying unthreshed, though the harvest had been collected two months before. The threshing is done with long poles. The whole of Damerghú produces no durra or sorghum, but only millet or Pennisetum typhoïdeum, and all, as far as I know, of the white species. Further on, the stubble-fields were pleasantly interrupted by a little pasture-ground, where we saw a tolerably large herd of cattle. Then followed a tract of country entirely covered with the monotonous Asclepias gigantea, which at present is useful only as affording materials for the framework of the thatched roofs, or for fences. It is worthless for fuel, although the pith is employed as tinder. The milky juice (which at present is used by the Pagan natives, as far as I know, only to ferment their gíya, and which greatly annoys the traveller in crossing the fields, as it produces spots on the clothes, and even injures the hair of the horses) might become an important article of trade. The cattle, at least in districts where they have not good pasturage, feed on the leaves of the asclepias.

We were gradually ascending, and reached at about a quarter past ten o’clock the summit of a rising ground the soil of which consisted of red clay. Altogether it was an undulating country, appearing rather monotonous, from its almost total want of trees, but nevertheless of the highest interest to one just arrived from the arid regions of the north.

Having passed several detached farms, which left a very agreeable impression of security and peacefulness, we came upon a group of wells, some dry, but others well filled, where besides cattle, a good many horses were led to water, a cheerful and to us quite a novel sight; many more were seen grazing around on the small patches of pasture-ground which interrupted the stubble-fields, and some of them were in splendid condition—strong and well-fed, and with fine, sleek coats; all of them were of brown colour. But there was another object which attracted our attention; the trough at the well was formed of a tortoise-shell of more than two feet in length, and on inquiry we learnt that this animal, of a large size, is not at all rare in this district. It was already mentioned, as common in these regions, by the famous Andalusian geographer el Bekri.

Villages, stubble-fields, tracts covered with tunfáfia (the Asclepias), detached farms, herds of cattle, and troops of horses tranquilly grazing succeeded each other, while the country continued undulating, and was now and then intersected by the dry bed of a watercourse. Having passed two divisions of the aïr, or aïri, which had preceded us, and had encamped near some villages, we obtained quite a new sight—a large quadrangular place called Dam-mágaji (properly Dan Mágaji, “the Son of the Lieutenant,” after whom it is called), surrounded with a clay wall, spreading out at a short distance on our left, while in the distance before us, in the direction of Zínder, a high cone called Zozáwa became visible. Leaving a village of considerable size on our right, at a quarter to three o’clock we reached a small hamlet, from which numbers of people were hurrying forward, saluting us in a friendly and cheerful manner, and informing us that this was Tágelel, the old chief’s property. We now saw that the village consisted of two distinct groups, separated from each other by a cluster of four or five tsámias, or tamarind-trees, the first poor specimens of this magnificent tree, which is the greatest ornament of Negroland. Our camping-ground was at first somewhat uncomfortable and troublesome, it being absolutely necessary to take all possible precautions against the dreadful little foe that infests the ground wherever there is arable land in Sudán—the white ant; but we gradually succeeded in making ourselves at home and comfortable for the next day’s halt.

The greatest part of the following day was spent in receiving visits. The first of these was interesting, although its interest was diminished by the length to which it was protracted. The visitor was a gallant freeborn Ikázkezan, of a fine, though not tall figure, regular, well-marked features, and fair complexion, which at once bespoke his noble birth; he was clad in a very good red bernús, of the value of seventy thousand kurdí in Kanó, and altogether was extremely neatly and well dressed. He came first on horseback with two companions on camels, but soon sent his horse and companions away, and squatted down in my tent, apparently for a somewhat long talk with me, and he remained with me for full three hours. But he was personally interesting, and a very fine specimen of his tribe, and the interest attaching to his person was greatly enhanced by his having accompanied the expedition against the Welád Slimán, which none of our other friends the Kél-owí had done. On this account I was greatly pleased to find that his statements confirmed and corroborated the general reports which we had heard before. He was all admiration at the large fortification which, as soon as they heard that the Tuarek intended an expedition against them, the Arabs had constructed at Késkáwa, on the shore of Lake Tsád (carrying trees of immense size from a great distance), and where they had remained for two months awaiting the arrival of their enraged foe. He expressed his opinion that nothing but the great God Himself could have induced them to leave at length such a secure retreat and impregnable stronghold, by crazing their wits and confounding their understandings. I also learnt that these daring vagabonds had not contented themselves with taking away all the camels of the Kél-owí that came to Bilma for salt, but, crossing that most desolate tract which separates Kawár or Hénderi Tedá (the Tébu country) from Aír, pursued the former as far as Agwáu.

At the time I conversed with my Ikázkezan friend about this subject I was not yet aware how soon I was to try my fortune with the shattered remains of that Arab horde, although its fate had formed an object of the highest interest to the expedition from the beginning. As for ourselves, my visitor was perfectly well acquainted with the whole history of our proceedings, and he was persuaded that, out of any material, we were able to make what we liked, but especially fine bernúses—an opinion which gave rise to some amusing conversation between us.

This interesting visitor was succeeded by a great many tiresome people, so that I was heartily glad when Overweg, who had made a little excursion to a great pond of stagnant water, at the foot of the hill of Farára, the residence of Mákita, returned, and, lying outside the little shed of tanned skins, which was spread over his luggage, drew the crowd away from my tent. Overweg, as well as Ibrahím, who had accompanied him, had shot several ducks, which afforded us a good supper, and made us support with some degree of patience the trying spectacle of a long procession of men and women laden with eatables, passing by us in the evening towards the camping-ground of the chief, while not a single dish found its way to us; and though we informed them that they were missing their way, they would not understand the hint, and answered us with a smile. Many severe remarks on the niggardliness of the old chief were that evening made round our fire. While music, dancing, and merriment were going on in the village, a solitary “maimólo” found his way to us, to console the three forsaken travellers from a foreign land, by extolling them to the skies, and representing them as special ministers of the Almighty.

Wednesday, Jan. 8.—Aír, or rather Asben, as we have seen above, was originally inhabited by the Góber race—that is to say, the most noble and original stock of what is now, by the natives themselves, called the Háusa nation; but the boundaries of Asben appear not to have originally included the district of Damerghú, as not even those of Aír do at the present day, Damerghú being considered as an outlying province and the granary of Aír. On the contrary, the name of Damerghú (which is formed of the same root as the names Daw-erghú, Gam-erghú, and others, all lying round Bórnu proper) seems to show that the country to which it applied belonged to the Kanúri race, who are in truth its chief occupants even at the present day, the Bórnu population being far more numerous than the Háusa; and though a great many of them are at present reduced to a servile condition, they are not imported slaves, as Mr. Richardson thought, but most of them are serfs or prædial slaves, the original inhabitants of the country. It is true that a great many of the names of the villages in Damerghú belong to the Háusa language, but these I conceive to be of a former date. The district extends for about sixty miles in length, and forty in breadth. It is altogether an undulating country, of very fertile soil, capable of maintaining the densest population, and was in former times certainly far more thickly inhabited than at present. The bloody wars carried on between the Bórnu king ʿAli ʿOmármi on the one side, and the Sultan of Ágades and the Tuarek of Aír on the other, must have greatly depopulated these border districts.

I shall first mention five places which owe their celebrity and importance, not to their size or the number of their inhabitants, but rather to their political rank, being the temporary residences of the chiefs. I name first Kúla-n-kérki—not the village mentioned above as being seen in the distance, but another place, half a day’s journey (“wúëni,” as the Háusa people say) east from Tágelel—of considerable size, and the residence of the chief Músa, who may with some truth be called master of the soil of Damerghú, and is entitled serkí-n-Damerghú in the same sense in which Mazáwaji was formerly called serkí-n-Asben; and to him all the inhabitants of the district, with the sole exception of the people of the three other chiefs, have to do homage and present offerings. Olalówa, about three miles or three miles and a half south-west of Tágelel, is rather smaller than Kúla-n-kérki. It is the residence of Mazáwaji, a man of the same family as Ánnur, who, till a short time before our arrival in Aír, was “amanókal-n-Kél-owí,” residing in Ásodi, in the place of Astáfidet. Though he has left Aír voluntarily, he still retains the title “serkí-n-Kél-owí,” and is a friendly and benevolent old man. Olalówa has a market-place provided with rúnfona, or rúnfas (sheds), where a market is held every Sunday; but it is not well attended by the inhabitants of the other places, owing to the fear entertained of Mazáwaji’s slaves, who seem (mild as their master is) to be disposed to violence. Farára, the residence of Mákita, or Ímkiten, the man who played the chief part during the interregnum, or rather the reign of anarchy in Ásben, before the installation of ʿAbd el Káder, is situated about two miles from Tágelel, on the west side of the road which we were to take, on the top of a hill, at the foot of which is a very extensive lagoon of water, from which the inhabitants of Tágelel also, and of many surrounding villages, draw their supply. Tágelel, the residence of Ánnur, although of small size (the two groups together containing scarcely more than a hundred and twenty cottages), is nevertheless of great political importance in all the relations of this distracted country. Here also I will mention Dankámsa, the residence of an influential man of the name of Úmma, which in a certain respect enjoys the same rank as the four above-named villages.

I will also add in this place the little which I was able to learn about the mixed settlements of Tuarek and black natives between Damerghú and Múniyo. As these places are the chief centres whence proceed the predatory excursions which are carried on continually against the northern districts of Bórnu, information with regard to them is not easily obtained. The chief among them is the principality of Alákkos, or Elákwas, about three (long) days north-east from Zínder, and two from Gúre, the present residence of Muniyóma. The ruling class in this sequestered haunt of robbers and freebooters seems to belong to the tribe of the Tagáma, and the name of the present chief is Abu-Bakr, who can lead into the field perhaps two hundred horsemen. The chief place bears the same name as the whole principality, and besides it there are but a few small places, among which I learnt the name of Dáucha. Alákkos is celebrated among the hungry inhabitants of the desert, on account of its grain, and in the desert-song the verse which celebrates the horse of Tawát is followed by another one celebrating the grain of Alákkos, “tádak Elákwas.”

Quite apart seems to be a place called Gáyim, which is governed by a chief called Kámmedán, and I know not whether another place called Kárbo be comprised in the same principality or not. These are the great haunts of the freebooters, who infest the border districts, from Damerghú to the very heart of Kánem.

Thursday, Jan. 9.—This was the great market-day in Tágelel, on which account our departure was put off till the following day; but the market did not become thronged until a late hour. I went there in the afternoon. The market-place, which was about eight hundred yards distant from our encampment, towards the west, upon a small hilly eminence, was provided with several sheds or rúnfas. The articles laid out for sale consisted of cotton (which was imported), tobacco, ostrich eggs, cheese, mats, ropes, nets, earthenware pots, gúras (or drinking-vessels made of the Cucurbita ovifera and C. lagenaria) and kórios (or vessels made of a fine sort of reed, for containing fluids, especially milk); besides these there were a tolerable supply of vegetables, and two oxen, for sale. The buyers numbered about a hundred.

In the afternoon two magozáwa, or Pagans, in a wild and fanciful attire (the dry leaves of Indian corn or sorghum hanging down from their barbarous headdress and from the leather apron which was girt round their loins and richly ornamented with shells and bits of coloured cloth), danced in front of our tents the “devil’s dance,” a performance of great interest in regard to the ancient Pagan customs of these countries, and to which I may have occasion to revert when I speak about Dodó, or the evil spirit, and the representation of the souls of the dead.

Tágelel was a very important point for the proceedings of the mission, on several accounts; for here we had reached the lands where travellers are able to proceed singly on their way, and here Overweg and I were to part from Mr. Richardson, on account of the low state of our finances, in order to try what each of us might be able to accomplish single-handed and without ostentation, till new supplies should arrive from home.

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Friday, Jan. 10.—The important day had arrived when we were to separate not only from each other, but also from the old chief Annur, upon whom our fortunes had been dependent for so long a period. Having concealed his real intentions till the very last moment, he at length, with seeming reluctance, pretended that he was going first to Zínder. He confided me, therefore, to the care of his brother Elaiji, a most amiable old man, only a year younger than himself, but of a very different character, who was to take the lead of the salt caravan to Kanó, and he promised me that I should arrive there in safety.

I had been so fortunate as to secure for myself, as far as that place, the services of Gajére, who was settled in Tágelel, where he was regarded as Ánnur’s chief slave, or overseer (“babá-n-báwa”). This man I hired, together with a mare of his, for myself, and a very fine pack-ox for that part of my luggage which my faithful camel, the Bu-Séfi, was unable to carry. Ánnur, I must say, behaved excellently towards me in this matter; for, having called me and Gajére into his presence, he presented his trusty servant, before all the people, with a red bernús on my account, enjoining him in the strictest terms to see me safe to Kanó.

And so I separated from our worthy old friend with deep and sincere regret. He was a most interesting specimen of an able politician and a peaceful ruler, in the midst of wild, lawless hordes; and I must do him the justice of declaring that he behaved, on the whole, exceedingly well towards us. I cannot avoid expressing the sorrow I afterwards felt on account of the step which Mr. Richardson thought himself justified in taking as soon as he had passed from the hands of Ánnur into those of the authorities of Bórnu, viz., to urge the sheikh of that country to claim restitution from the former, not only for the value of the things taken from us by the bordering tribes of the desert, but even of part of the sum which we had paid to Ánnur himself. Such conduct, it appeared to me, was not only impolitic, but unfair. It was impolitic, because the claim could be of no avail, and would only serve to alienate from us a man whom we had succeeded in making our friend; and it was unfair, for, although the sum which we had given to the chief was rather large in proportion to our limited means, we were not compelled to pay it, but were simply given to understand that, if we wanted the chief himself to accompany us, we must contribute so much. I became fully aware of the unfavourable effect which Mr. Richardson’s proceedings in this respect produced, on the occasion of a visit which I paid the old chief in the beginning of the year 1853, when passing through Zínder on my way to Timbúktu. He then mentioned the circumstance with much feeling, and asked me if, judging from his whole behaviour towards us, he had deserved to be treated as a robber.

But to return to Tágelel, when I shook hands with the “sófo” he was sitting, like a patriarch of old, in the midst of his slaves and free men, male and female, and was dividing amongst them presents, such as shawls and turkedies, but principally painted arm-rings of clay, imported from Egypt, and of which the women of these districts are passionately fond. Mr. Richardson being ready to start, I took a hearty farewell of him, fixing our next place of meeting in Kúkawa, about the 1st of April. He was tolerably well at the time, although he had shown evident symptoms of being greatly affected by the change from the fine fresh air of the mountainous district of Aír to the sultry climate of the fertile lands of Negroland; and he was quite incapable of bearing the heat of the sun, for which reason he always carried an umbrella, instead of accustoming himself to it by degrees. There was some sinister foreboding in the circumstance that I did not feel sufficient confidence to intrust to his care a parcel for Europe. I had sealed it expressly that he might take it with him to Kúkawa, and send it off from that place with his own despatches immediately after his arrival; but at the moment of parting I preferred taking it myself to Kanó. All my best friends amongst the Kél-owí were also going to Zínder, in order, as they said, to accompany their master, although only a small part of the salt caravan followed that route. Overweg and I remained together for two or three days longer.

I felt happy in the extreme when I found myself once more on horseback, however deficient in beauty my little mare might be; for few energetic Europeans, I think, will relish travelling for any length of time on camel’s back, as they are far too dependent on the caprice of the animal. We set out at half-past seven o’clock, and soon passed on our right a village, and then a second one, which I think was Dákari, where a noble lady of handsome figure, and well mounted upon a bullock, joined the caravan. She was seated in a most comfortable large chair, which was fastened on the bullock’s back. We afterwards passed on our right the town of Olalówa, situated on a low range of hills. In the lower plain, into which we next descended, I observed the first regular ant-hill. Small groups of corn-stacks, or rumbús, further on, dotted a depression or hollow, which was encompassed on both sides with gently sloping hills. Here I had to leave the path of the caravan with my new companion Gajére, who was riding the bullock, in order to water our two beasts, a duty which now demanded our chief attention every day.

At length we reached the watering-place of Gílmirám, consisting of a group of not less than twenty wells, but all nearly dry. The district of Damerghú must sometimes suffer greatly from drought. The horses and cattle of the village were just coming to be watered; what time and pains it must take to satisfy a whole herd, when we were scarcely able to water our two animals! Passing along through thick underwood, where the “kálgo,” with its large dry leaves of olive hue, and its long red pods similar to those of the kharúb-tree, but much larger, predominated almost exclusively, and leaving the village Maihánkuba on our right, we at last overtook the caravan; for the Ásbenáwa pack-oxen are capable of carrying heavy loads at a very expeditious pace, and in this respect leave far behind them the pack-oxen of the fertile regions of Negroland. We now kept along through the woody region, where the tree “góshi,” with an edible fruit, was most frequent. We encamped in a thickly wooded hollow, when my sociable companion Gajére, as well by the care he took for our evening fire (which he arranged in the most scientific way) as by the information he gave me with regard to the routes leading from Zínder to Kanó, contributed greatly to the comfort and cheerfulness of our bivouac. I first learned from him that there are four different routes from Zínder to Kanó, one route, the westernmost, passing by Dáura; the second, passing by Kazáure; the third, by Garú-n-Gedúnia; the fourth, by Gúmmel (or, as he pronounced it, Gúmiel), gari-n-serki-n-Da-n-Tanóma, this being the easternmost and longest route. Gajére himself was only acquainted with the third route, the stations of which are as follows.

Starting from Zínder, you sleep the first night in Gógo, the second in Mokókia, the third in Zólunzólun, the fourth in Magária, the fifth in Túnfushí, the sixth in Garú-n-Gedúnia, from whence it is three days’ journey to Kanó.

Saturday, Jan. 11.—My people, Gajére, and myself started considerably in advance of the caravan, in order to water the animals at our leisure, and fill the water-skins. It was a beautiful morning, and our march a most pleasant one; a tall sort of grass, called “gámba,” covered the whole ground. Thus we went on cheerfully, passing by a well at present dry, situated in a small hollow, and surrounded with fine trees which were enlivened by numbers of Guinea-fowl and wild pigeons. Beyond this spot the country became more open, and about five miles from the well we reached the pond, or “tébki-n-rúwa Kúdura,” close on the right of our path. It was already partly dried up, and the water had quite a milky colour, from the nature of the ground, which consists of a whitish clay; but during the rainy season, and for some time afterwards, when all the trees which surround it in its dry state stand in the midst of the water, it is of considerable size. There are a great many kálgo-trees here. We also met a small troop of men very characteristic of the country we had entered, being wanton in behaviour and light in dress, having nothing on but short shirts, the colour of which had once been dark blue, and diminutive straw hats, while all their luggage consisted of a small leathern bag with pounded “géro” or millet, some gourd bottles to contain the fura, besides two or three drinking-vessels. One of them, an exceedingly tall fellow, rode a horse scarcely able to carry him, though the cavalier was almost as lean as his Rosinante. Soon afterwards the pond became enlivened by the arrival of a caravan of pack-oxen, everything indicating that we had reached a region where intercourse was easy and continuous.

We remained here nearly two hours, till the “aïri” came up, when we joined it, and soon discovered the reason of their being so long; for in the thick underwood the long strings of camels could not proceed fast, and the stoppages were frequent. We then met another small caravan. At a quarter past four in the afternoon we encamped in a locality called Amsúsu, in the midst of the forest. We were busy pitching the tent, when a body of about sixteen horsemen came up, all dressed in the Tuarek fashion, but plainly indicating their intermixture with the Háusa people by their less muscular frame and by the variety of their dress; and in fact they all belonged to that curious mulatto tribe called Búzu (pl. Búzawe). They were going on a “yáki,” but whether against the Awelímmiden or the Féllani I could not learn at the time; the latter, however, proved to be the case.

The earth hereabouts was filled with a peculiar kind of small worms, which greatly annoyed any person lying on the bare ground, so that I was very fortunate in having my “gadó” with me. A bedstead of some kind is a most necessary piece of furniture for an African traveller, as I have already remarked on a previous occasion; but it should be of a lighter description than my heavy boards, which, notwithstanding their thickness, were soon split, and at length smashed to pieces, in the thick forests through which we often had to pass. Our bivouac in the evening round our fire was exceedingly agreeable, the staid and grave demeanour of my burly and energetic companion imposing even upon the frivolous Mohammed, who at this time behaved much better than usual. Gajére informed me that the direct western road from here to Tasáwa passed by the village Gárari, the pond Úrafa, the well Jíga, and by Birni-n-Tázin, while we were to follow an eastern road. Not far from our encampment, eastward, was a swamp named Tágelel.

Sunday, Jan. 12.—Several camels were missing in the morning, as was indeed very natural in a country like this, thickly covered with trees and underwood. Soon, however, a tremendously shrill cry, passing from troop to troop, and producing altogether a most startling effect, announced that the animals had been found; and a most interesting and lively scene ensued, each party, scattered as the caravan was through the forest, beginning to load their camels on any narrow open space at hand. The sky was thickly overcast, and the sun did not break forth till after we had gone some three or four miles. We passed a beautiful tsámia, or tamarind-tree, which was, I think, the first full-grown tree of this species we had seen, those in Tágelel being mere dwarfs. Having descended a little, we passed at eleven o’clock a small hamlet or farming village called Kauye-n-Sálakh, and I afterwards observed the first tulip-tree, splendidly covered with the beautiful flower, just open in all the natural finery of its colours, while not a single leaf adorned the tree. I think this was the first tree of the kind we had passed on our road, although Overweg (whose attention I drew to it) asserted that he had seen specimens of it the day before; nevertheless I doubt their having escaped my observation, as I took the greatest interest in noting down accurately where every new species of plant first appeared. At four o’clock in the afternoon we saw the first cotton-fields, which alternated with the corn-fields most agreeably. The former are certainly the greatest and most permanent ornament of any landscape in these regions, the plant being in leaf at almost every season of the year, and partly even in a state of fructification; but a field of full-grown cotton-plants, in good order, is very rarely met with in these countries, as they are left generally in a wild state, overgrown with all sorts of rank grass. A little beyond these fields we pitched our tent.

Monday, Jan. 13.—We started at rather a late hour, our road being crossed by a number of small paths which led to watering-places; and we were soon surrounded by a great many women from a neighbouring village called Baíbay, offering for sale, to the people of the caravan, “godjía,” or ground-nuts, and “dákkwa,” a sort of dry paste made of pounded Guinea-corn (Pennisetum), with dates and an enormous quantity of pepper. This is the meaning of dákkwa in these districts; it is however, elsewhere used as a general term signifying only paste, and is often employed to denote a very palatable sort of sweetmeat made of pounded rice, butter, and honey. We then passed on our left the fields of the village, those near the road being well and carefully fenced, and lying around the well, where half the inhabitants of the place were assembled to draw water, which required no small pains, the depth of the well exceeding twenty fathoms. Attempting to water the horse, I found that the water was excessively warm; unfortunately, I had not got my thermometer with me, but resolved to be more careful in future. On passing the village, we were struck by the neatness with which it was fenced on this side; and I afterwards learned by experience what a beautiful and comfortable dwelling may be arranged with no other material than reeds and corn-stalks. The population of these villages consists of a mixture of Mohammedans and Pagans, but I think the majority of the inhabitants are Mohammedans.

After a short interval of woody country, we passed a village of the name of Chirák, with another busy scene round the well. In many districts in Central Africa the labour of drawing water, for a portion of the year, is so heavy that it occupies the greater part of the inhabitants half the day; but fortunately, at this season, with the exception of weaving a little cotton, they have no other employment, while during the season when agricultural labours are going on water is to be found everywhere, and the wells are not used at all. Búzawe are scattered everywhere hereabouts, and infuse into the population a good deal of Berber blood. Very pure Háusa is spoken.

It was near Chirák that Overweg, who had determined to go directly to Tasáwa, in order to commence his intended excursion to Góber and Marádi, separated from me. This was indeed quite a gallant commencement of his undertaking, as he had none of Ánnur’s people with him, and besides Ibrahím and the useful snake-like Amánkay (who had recovered from his guineaworm), his only companion was a Tébu who had long been settled in Asben, and whom he had engaged for the length of his intended trip. At that time he had still the firm intention to go to Kúkawa by way of Kanó, and begged me to leave his things there. He was in excellent health, and full of an enthusiastic desire to devote himself to the study of the new world which opened before us; and we parted with a hearty wish for each other’s success in our different quarters before we were to meet again in the capital of Bórnu; for we did not then know that we should have an interview in Tasáwa.

I now went on alone, but felt not at all depressed by solitude, as I had been accustomed from my youth to wander about by myself among strange people. I felt disposed, indeed, to enter into a closer connection with my black friend Gajére, who was very communicative, but oftentimes rather rude, and unable to refrain from occasionally mocking the stranger who wanted to know everything, and would not acknowledge Mohammed in all his prophetic glory. He called my attention to several new kinds of trees while we were passing the two villages Bagángaré and Tangónda. There was the “baushi,” the “karámmia,” and the “gónda,” the last being identical with the Carica Papaya, and rather rare in the northern parts of Negroland, but very common in the country between Kátsena and Núpe, and scattered in single specimens over all the country from Kanó and Gújeba southwards to the river Bénuwé; but at that time I was ignorant that it bore a splendid fruit, with which I first became acquainted in Kátsena. The whole country, indeed, had a most interesting and cheerful appearance, villages and corn-fields succeeding each other with only short intervals of thick, underwood, which contributed to give richer variety to the whole landscape, while the ground was undulating, and might sometimes even be called hilly. We met a numerous herd of fine cattle belonging to Gozenákko, returning to their pasture-grounds after having been watered, the bulls all with the beautiful hump, and of fine strong limbs, but of moderate size and with small horns. Scarcely had this moving picture passed before our eyes, when another interesting and characteristic procession succeeded—a long troop of men, all carrying on their heads large baskets filled with the fruit of the góreba (Cucifera, or Hyphæne Thebaïca), commonly called the gingerbread-tree, which, in many of the northern districts of Negroland, furnishes a most important article of food, and certainly seasons many dishes very pleasantly, as I shall have occasion to mention in the course of my narrative. Further on, the fields were enlivened with cattle grazing in the stubble, while a new species of tree, the “kírria,” attracted my attention.

Thus we reached Gozenákko; and while my servants Mohammed and the Gatróni went with the camel to the camping ground, I followed my sturdy overseer to the village in order to water the horse; for though I might have sent one of my men afterwards, I preferred taking this opportunity of seeing the interior of the village. It is of considerable size, and consists of a town and its suburbs, the former being surrounded with a “kéffi,” or close stockade of thick stems of trees, while the suburbs are ranged around without any enclosure or defence. All the houses consist of conical huts, made entirely of stalks and reeds, and great numbers of little granaries were scattered among them. As it was about half-past two in the afternoon, the people were sunk in slumber or repose, and the well was left to our disposal; afterwards, however, we were obliged to pay for the water. We then joined the caravan, which had encamped at no great distance eastward of the village, in the stubble-fields. These, enlivened as they were by a number of tall fan-palms, besides a variety of other trees, formed a very cheerful open ground for our little trading-party, which, preparing for a longer stay of two or three days, had chosen its ground in a more systematic way, each person arranging his “tákrufa,” or the straw sacks containing the salt, so as to form a barrier open only on one side, in the shape of an elongated horseshoe, in the recess of which they might stow away their slender stock of less bulky property, and sleep themselves, while, in order to protect the salt from behind, a light stockade of the stalks of Guinea-corn was constructed on that side; for having now exchanged the regions of highway robbers and marauders for those of thieves, we had nothing more to fear from open attacks, but a great deal from furtive attempts by night.

Scarcely had our people made themselves comfortable, when their appetite was excited by a various assortment of the delicacies of the country, clamorously offered for sale by crowds of women from the village. The whole evening a discordant chime was rung upon the words “nóno” (sour milk), “may” (butter), “dodówa” (the vegetable paste above mentioned), “kúka” (the young leaves of the Adansonia, which are used for making an infusion with which meat or the “túwo” is eaten), and “yáru da dária.” The last of these names, indeed, is one which characterizes and illustrates the cheerful disposition of the Háusa people; for the literal meaning of it is “the laughing boy,” or “the boy to laugh,” while it signifies the sweet ground-nut, which if roasted is indeed one of the greatest delicacies of the country. Reasoning from subsequent experience, I thought it remarkable that no “túwo” (the common paste or hasty pudding made of millet, called “fufu” on the western coast), which forms the ordinary food of the natives, was offered for sale; but it must be borne in mind that the people of Asben care very little about a warm supper, and like nothing better than the fura or ghussub-water, and the corn in its crude state, only a little pounded. To this circumstance the Arabs generally attribute the enormous and disgusting quantity of lice with which the Kél-owí, even the very first men of the country, are covered.

I was greatly disappointed in not being able to procure a fowl for my supper. The breeding of fowls seems to be carried on to a very small extent in this village, although they are in such immense numbers in Damerghú that a few years ago travellers could buy “a fowl for a needle.”

Tuesday, Jan. 14.—Seeing that we should make some stay here, I had decided, upon visiting the town of Tasáwa, which was only a few miles distant to the west, but deferred my visit till the morrow, in order to see the town in the more interesting phase of the “káswa-n-Láraba,” or the Wednesday market. However, our encampment, where I quietly spent the day, was itself changed into a lively and bustling market, and even during the heat of the day the discordant cries of the sellers did not cease.

My intelligent and jovial companion meanwhile gave me some valuable information with regard to the revenue of the wealthy governor of Tasáwa, who in certain respects is an independent prince, though he may be called a powerful vassal of the king or chief of Marádi. Every head of a family in his territory pays him three thousand kurdí, as “kurdí-n-kay” (head-money or poll-tax); besides, there is an ample list of penalties (“kurdí-n-laefi”), some of them very heavy: thus, for example, the fine for having flogged another man, or most probably for having given him a sound cudgelling, is as much as ten thousand kurdí; for illicit paternity, one hundred thousand kurdí—an enormous sum considering the economic condition of the population, and which, I think, plainly proves how rarely such a thing happens in this region; but of course where every man may lawfully take as many wives as he is able to feed there is little excuse for illicit intercourse. In case of wilful murder the whole property of the murderer is forfeited, and is of right seized by the governor.

Each village has its own mayor, who decides petty matters, and is responsible for the tax payable within his jurisdiction. The king, or paramount chief, has the power of life and death, and there is no appeal from his sentence to the ruler of Marádi. However, he cannot venture to carry into effect any measure of consequence without asking the opinion of his privy council, or at least that of the ghaladíma or prime minister, some account of whose office I shall have an opportunity of giving in the course of my narrative. The little territory of Tasáwa might constitute a very happy state if the inhabitants were left in quiet; but they are continually harassed by predatory expeditions, and even last evening, while we were encamped here, the Féllani drove away a small herd of ten calves from the neighbouring village of Kálbo.

About noon the “salt” of the serkí-n-Kél-owí arrived with the people of Olalówa, as well as that of Sálah Lúsu’s head man, who before had always been in advance of us. In the evening I might have fancied myself a prince, for I had a splendid supper, consisting of a fowl or two, while a solitary maimólo cheered me with a performance on his simple three-stringed instrument, which, however monotonous, was still expressive of much feeling, and accompanied with a song in my praise.

Wednesday, Jan. 15.—At the very dawn of day, to my great astonishment, I was called out of the tent by Mohammed, who told me that Fárraji, Lúsu’s man, our companion from Ghát, had suddenly arrived from Zínder with three or four Bórnu horsemen, and had express orders with regard to me. However, when I went out to salute him, he said nothing of his errand, but simply told me that he wanted first to speak to Elaíji, the chief of the caravan. I therefore went to the latter myself to know what was the matter, and learnt from the old man that though he was not able to make out all the terms of the letters of which Fárraji was the bearer, one of which was written by the sheríf, and the other by Lúsu, he yet understood that the horsemen had come with no other purpose but to take me and Overweg to Zínder, without consulting our wishes, and that the sheríf as well as Lúsu had instructed him to send us off in company with these fellows, but that they had also a letter for Ánnur, who ought to be consulted. As for himself, the old man (well aware of the real state of affairs, and that the averment of a letter having arrived from the consul at Tripoli, to the effect that till further measures were taken with regard to our recent losses we ought to stay in Bórnu, was a mere sham and fabrication) declared that he would not force us to do anything against our inclination, but that we ought to decide ourselves what was best to be done.

Having, therefore, a double reason for going to Tasáwa, I set out as early as possible, accompanied by my faithless, wanton Tunisian shushán, and by my faithful, sedate Tageláli overseer. The path leading through the suburbs of Gozenákko was well fenced, in order to prevent any violation of property; whereas on the western side of the village there was scarcely any cultivated ground, and we soon entered upon a wilderness where the “dúmmia” and the “karása” were the principal plants, when, after a march of a little more than three miles, the wild thicket again gave way to cultivated fields, and the town of Tasáwa appeared in the distance, or rather (as is generally the case in these countries, where the dwellings are so low, and where almost all the trees round the towns are cut down, for strategical as well as economical reasons) the fine shady trees in the interior of the town were seen, which make it a very cheerful place. After two miles more, we reached the suburbs, and, crossing them, kept along the outer ditch which runs round the stockade of the town, in order to reach Al Wáli’s house, under whose special protection I knew that Mr. Overweg had placed himself.

My friend’s quarters, into which we were shown, were very comfortable, although rather narrow. They consisted of a courtyard, fenced with mats made of reeds, and containing a large shed, or “runfá,” likewise built of mats and stalks, and a tolerably spacious hut, the walls built of clay (“bángo”), but with a thatched roof (“shíbki”). The inner part of it was guarded by a cross wall from the prying of indiscreet eyes.

Overweg was not a little surprised on hearing the recent news, and we sent for el Wákhshi, our Ghadámsi friend from Tin-téggana, in order to consult him, as one who had long resided in these countries, and who, we had reason to hope, would be uninfluenced by personal considerations. He firmly pronounced his opinion that we ought not to go, and afterwards, when Fárráji called Mánzo and Al Wáli to his aid, entered into a violent dispute with these men, who advised us to go; but he went too far in supposing that the letter had been written with a malicious intention. For my part, I could well imagine that the step was authorized by the Sheikh of Bórnu, or at least by his vizier, who might have heard long ago of our intention to go to Kanó, as it had been even Mr. Richardson’s intention to go there, which indeed he ought to have done in conformity with his written obligations to Mohammed eʾ Sfáksi; they might therefore have instructed the sheríf to do what he might think fit to prevent us from carrying out our purpose. However, it seemed not improbable that Lúsu had something to do with the affair. But it was absolutely necessary for Mr. Overweg and myself, or for one of us at least, to go to Kanó, as we had several debts to pay, and were obliged to sell the little merchandise we had with us, in order to settle our affairs.

We were still considering the question, when we were informed that our old protector the chief Ánnur had just arrived from Zínder; and I immediately determined to go to see him in his own domain at Náchira, situated at a little more than a mile north-east from Tasáwa. In passing through the town I crossed the market-place, which at that time, during the hot hours of the day, was very well frequented, and presented a busy scene of the highest interest to a traveller emerging from the desert, and to which the faint sparks of life still to be observed in Ágades cannot be compared. A considerable number of cattle were offered for sale, as well as six camels, and the whole market was surrounded by continuous rows of runfás or sheds; but provisions and ready-dressed food formed the staple commodity, and scarcely anything of value was to be seen. On leaving the town I entered an open country covered with stubble-fields, and soon reached that group of Náchira where the chief had fixed his quarters. In front of the yard was a most splendid tamarind-tree, such as I had not yet seen. Leaving my horse in its shade, I entered the yard, accompanied by Gajére, and looked about for some time for the great man, when at length we discovered him under a small shed, or runfá, of a conical form, so low that we had passed it without noticing the people collected in its shade. There he lay, surrounded by his attendants, as was his custom in general when reposing in the daytime, with no clothing but his trousers, while his shirt, rolled up, formed a pillow to rest his left arm upon. He did not seem to be in the best humour—at least he did not say a single cheerful word to me; and though it was the very hottest time of the day, he did not offer me as much as a draught of water. I had expected to be treated to a bowl of well-soaked “fura” seasoned with cheese. But what astonished me more than his miserly conduct (which was rather familiar to me) was that I learned from his own mouth that he had not been to Zínder at all, whither we had been assured he had accompanied Mr. Richardson, but that he had spent all the time in Tágelel, from which place he had now come direct. I was therefore the more certain that Lúsu had some part in the intrigues. Ánnur, who had not yet received the letter addressed to him from Zínder, knew nothing about it, and merely expressed his surprise that such a letter had been written, without adding another word.

Seeing the old chief in a very cheerless humour, I soon left him, and took a ramble with Gajére over the place. The estate is very extensive, and consists of a great many clusters of huts scattered over the fields, while isolated dúm-palms give to the whole a peculiar feature. The people, all followers and mostly domestic slaves of Ánnur, seemed to live in tolerable ease and comfort, as far as I was able to see, my companion introducing me into several huts. Indeed, every candid person, however opposed to slavery he may be, must acknowledge that the Tuarek in general, and particularly the Kél-owí, treat their slaves not only humanely, but even with the utmost indulgence and affability, and scarcely let them feel their bondage at all. Of course there are exceptions, as the cruelty of yoking slaves to a plough, and driving them on with a whip (which I had witnessed in Aúderas), is scarcely surpassed in any of the Christian slave-states; but these exceptions are extremely rare.

When I returned from my ramble, Mr. Overweg had also arrived, and the old chief had received the letter; and though neither he nor any of his people could read it, he was fully aware of its contents, and disapproved of it entirely, saying that we should act freely, and according to the best of our knowledge. I then returned with my countryman into the town, and remained some time with him. In front of his dwelling was encamped the natron caravan of Al Wáli, which in a few days was to leave for Núpe, or (as the Háusa people say) Nýffi. We shall have to notice very frequently this important commerce, which is carried on between the shores of the Tsád and Nýffi.

I left the town at about five o’clock, and feeling rather hungry on reaching the encampment in Gozenákko, to the great amusement of our neighbours, parodying the usual salute of “Iná labári” (What is the news?) I asked my people immediately the news of our cooking-pot, “Iná labári-n-tokónia” (What news of the pot?) I was greatly pleased with my day’s excursion, for Tasáwa was the first large place of Negroland proper which I had seen, and it made the most cheerful impression upon me, as manifesting everywhere the unmistakable marks of the comfortable, pleasant sort of life led by the natives: the courtyard fenced with a “dérne” of tall reeds, excluding to a certain degree the eyes of the passer-by, without securing to the interior absolute secrecy; then near the entrance the cool shady place of the “runfá,” for ordinary business and for the reception of strangers, and the “gída,” partly consisting entirely of reed (“dáki-n-kára”) of the best wickerwork, partly built of clay in its lower parts (“bóngo”), while the roof consists of reeds only (“shíbki”), but of whatever material it may consist, it is warm and well adapted for domestic privacy, the whole dwelling shaded with spreading trees, and enlivened with groups of children, goats, fowls, pigeons, and, where a little wealth had been accumulated, a horse or a pack-ox.

With this character of the dwellings, that of the inhabitants themselves is in entire harmony, its most constant element being a cheerful temperament, bent upon enjoying life, rather given to women, dance, and song, but without any disgusting excess. Everybody here finds his greatest happiness in a comely lass, and as soon as he makes a little profit he adds a young wife to his elder companion in life, yet a man has rarely more than two wives at a time. Drinking fermented liquor cannot be strictly reckoned a sin in a place where a great many of the inhabitants are Pagans; but a drunken person, nevertheless, is scarcely ever seen; those who are not Mohammedans only indulge in their “gíya,” made of sorghum, just enough to make them merry and enjoy life with more light-heartedness. There was at that time a renegade Jew in the place, called Músa, who made spirits of dates and tamarinds for his own use. Their dress is very simple, consisting, for the man, of a wide shirt and trousers, mostly of a dark colour, while the head is generally covered with a light cap of cotton cloth, which is negligently worn, in all sorts of fashions. Others wear a rather closely fitting cap of green cloth, called báki-n-záki. Only the wealthier amongst them can afford the “zénne,” or shawl, thrown over the shoulder like the plaid of the Highlanders. On their feet the richer class wear very neat sandals, such as we shall describe among the manufactures of Kanó.

As for the women, their dress consists almost entirely of a large cotton cloth, also of dark colour—the “túrkedi,” fastened under or above the breast—the only ornament of the latter in general consisting of some strings of glass beads worn round the neck. The women are tolerably handsome, and have pleasant features; but they are worn out by excessive domestic labour, and their growth never attains full and vigorous proportions. They do not bestow so much care upon their hair as the Féllani or some of the Bagírmi people.

There are in the town a good many “Búzawe,” or Tuarek half-castes, who distinguish themselves in their dress principally by the “ráwani,” or tesílgemíst (the lithám), of white or black colour, which they wind round their head in the same way as the Kél-owí; but their mode of managing the tuft of hair left on the top of the head is not always the same, some wearing their curled hair all over the crown of the head, while others leave only a long tuft, which was the old fashion of the Zenágha. The Pagan inhabitants of this district wear, in general, only a leathern apron (“wuélki”); but, with the exception of young children, none are seen here quite naked. The town was so busy, and seemed so well inhabited, that on the spot I estimated its population at fifteen thousand; but this estimate is probably too high.

Thursday, Jan. 16.—We still remained near Gozenákko, and I was busy studying Temáshight, after which I once more went over the letter of the Sheríf el Fási, Háj Beshír’s agent in Zínder; and having become fully aware of the dictatorial manner in which he had requested Elaíji to forward me and Mr. Overweg to him (just as a piece of merchandise), without asking our consent, I sat down to write him a suitable answer, assuring him that, as I was desirous of paying my respects to the son of Mohammed el Kánemi and his enlightened vizier, I would set out for their residence as soon as I had settled my affairs in Kanó, and that I was sure of attaining my ends without his intervention, as I had not the least desire to visit him.

This letter, as subsequent events proved, grew into importance, for the sheríf, being perplexed by its tone, sent it straight on to Kúkawa, where it served to introduce me at once to the sheikh and his vizier. But the difficulty was to send it off with the warlike messengers who had brought the sheríf’s letters, as they would not go without us, and swore that their orders, from the sheríf as well as from Serk’ Ibrám, were so peremptory that they should be utterly disgraced if they returned empty-handed. At length, after a violent dispute with Fárráji and these warlike-looking horsemen, the old chief, who took my part very fairly, finished the matter by plainly stating that if we ourselves, of our own free will, wanted to go, we might do so, but if we did not wish to go, instead of forcing us, he would defend us against anybody who should dare to offer us violence. Nevertheless the messengers would not depart, and it seemed impossible to get rid of them till I made each of them a present of two mithkáls, when they mounted their horses with a very bad grace, and went off with my letter. The energetic and straightforward but penurious old chief left us in the afternoon, and rode to Kálgo, a village at no great distance.

Friday, Jan. 17.—Still another day of halt, in order, as I was told, to allow Háj ʿAbdúwa’s salt caravan to come up and join us. Being tired of the camp, I once more went into the town to spend my day usefully and pleasantly; leaving all my people behind, I was accompanied by some of my fellow-travellers of the caravan. Arriving at Overweg’s quarters, what was my surprise to find Fárráji not yet gone, but endeavouring to persuade my companion, with all the arts of his barbarous eloquence, that though I should not go, he at least might, in which case he would be amply rewarded with the many fine things which had been prepared in Zínder for our reception. The poor fellow was greatly cast down when he saw me, and soon made off in very bad humour, while I went with Overweg to el Wákhshi, who was just occupied in that most tedious of all commercial transactions in these countries, namely, the counting of shells; for in all these inland countries of Central Africa the cowries, or kurdí (Cypræa moneta), are not, as is customary in some regions near the coast, fastened together in strings of one hundred each, but are separate, and must be counted one by one. Even those “tákrufa” (or sacks made of rushes), containing twenty thousand kurdí each, as the governors of the towns are in the habit of packing them up, no private individual will receive without counting them out. The general custom in so doing is to count them by fives, in which operation some are very expert, and then, according to the amount of the sum, to form heaps of two hundred (or ten háwiyas[13]) or a thousand each. Having at length succeeded, with the help of some five or six other people, in the really heroic work of counting five hundred thousand shells, our friend went with us to the sick Sultan Mazáwaji; I say Sultan, as it is well for a traveller to employ these sounding titles of petty chiefs, which have become naturalized in the country from very ancient times, although it is very likely that foreign governments would be unwilling to acknowledge them. The poor fellow, who was living in a hut built half of mud, half of reeds, was suffering under a dreadful attack of dysentery, and looked like a spectre; fortunately my friend succeeded in bringing on perspiration with some hot tea and a good dose of peppermint, in the absence of stronger medicines. We then went to the house of Amánkay, that useful fellow so often mentioned in the Journal of the late Mr. Richardson, and by myself. He was a “búzu” of this place, and had many relatives here, all living near him. His house was built in the general style, but the interior of the courtyard was screened from profane eyes. Fortunately I had taken with me some small things, such as mirrors, English darning-needles, and some knives, so that I was able to give a small present to each of his kinsmen and relatives, while he treated us with a calabash of fura.

In the afternoon we strolled a long time about the market, which, not being so crowded as the day before yesterday, was on that account far more favourable for observation. Here I first saw and tasted the bread made of the fruit of the magária-tree, and called “túwo-n-magária,” which I have mentioned before, and was not a little astonished to see whole calabashes filled with roasted locusts (“fará”), which occasionally form a considerable part of the food of the natives, particularly if their grain has been destroyed by this plague, as they can then enjoy not only the agreeable flavour of the dish, but also take a pleasant revenge on the ravagers of their fields. Every open space in the midst of the market-place was occupied by a fireplace (“maidéffa”) on a raised platform, on which diminutive morsels of meat, attached to a small stick, were roasting, or rather stewing, in such a way that the fat, trickling down from the richer pieces attached to the top of the stick, basted the lower ones. These dainty bits were sold for a single shell, or “urí,”[14] each. I was much pleased at recognizing the red cloth which had been stolen from my bales in the valley of Afís, and which was exposed here for sale. But the most interesting thing in the town was the “máriná” (the dyeing-place), near the wall, consisting of a raised platform of clay with fourteen holes or pits, in which the mixture of indigo is prepared, and the cloths remain for a certain length of time, from one to seven days, according to the colour which they are to attain. It is principally this dyeing, I think, which gives to many parts of Negroland a certain tincture of civilization, a civilization which it would be highly interesting to trace, if it were possible, through all the stages of its development.

While rambling about, Overweg and I for a while were greatly annoyed by a tall fellow, very respectably and most picturesquely dressed, who professed himself to be a messenger from the governor of Kátsena, sent to offer us his compliments and to invite us to go to him. Though the thing was not altogether impossible, it looked rather improbable; and having thanked him profusely for his civility, we at length succeeded in getting rid of him. In the evening I returned to our camping ground with Ídder, the Emgédesi man mentioned in a preceding part of my narrative, and was very glad to receive reliable information that we were to start the following day.

---

Saturday, Jan. 18.—We made a good start with our camels, which, having been treated to a considerable allowance of salt on the first day of our halt, had made the best possible use of these four days’ rest to recruit their strength. At the considerable village of Kálgo, which we passed at a little less than five miles beyond our encampment, the country became rather hilly, but only for a short distance. Tamarinds constituted the greatest ornament of the landscape. A solitary traveller attracted our notice on account of his odd attire, mounted as he was on a bullock with three large pitchers on each side. Four miles beyond Kálgo the character of the country became suddenly changed, and dense groups of dúm-palms covered the ground. But what pleased me more than the sight of these slender forked trees was when, half an hour after mid-day, I recognized my splendid old friend the bóre-tree, of the valley Bóghel, which had excited my surprise in so high a degree, and the magnificence of which at its first appearance was not at all eclipsed by this second specimen in the fertile regions of Negroland. Soon afterwards we reached the fáddama of Gazáwa; and, leaving the town on our right hidden in the thick forest, we encamped a little further on in an open place, which was soon crowded with hucksters and retailers. I was also pestered with a visit from some half-caste Arabs settled in the town; but fortunately, seeing that they were likely to wait in vain for a present, they went off, and were soon succeeded by a native mʿallem from the town, whose visit was most agreeable to me.

About sunset the “serkí-n-turáwa,” or consul of the Arabs, came to pay his regards to Elaíji, and introduced the subject of a present, which, as he conceived, I ought to make to the governor of the town as a sort of passage-money; my protector, however, would not listen to the proposal, but merely satisfied his visitor’s curiosity by calling me into his presence and introducing him to me. The serkí was very showily and picturesquely dressed—in a green and white striped tobe, wide trousers of a speckled pattern and colour, like the plumage of the Guinea-fowl, with an embroidery of green silk in front of the legs. Over this he wore a gaudy red bernús, while round his red cap a red and white turban was wound crosswise in a very neat and careful manner. His sword was slung over his right shoulder by means of thick hangers of red silk ornamented with enormous tassels. He was mounted on a splendid charger, the head and neck of which was most fancifully ornamented with a profusion of tassels, bells, and little leather pockets containing charms, while from under the saddle a shabrack peeped out, consisting of little triangular patches in all the colours of the rainbow.

This little African dandy received me with a profusion of the finest compliments, pronounced with the most refined and sweet accent of which the Háusa language is capable. When he was gone my old friend Elaíji informed me that he had prevented the “consul of the Arabs” from exacting a present from me, and begged me to acknowledge his service by a cup of coffee, which of course I granted him with all my heart. Poor old Elaíji! He died in the year 1854, in the forest between Gazáwa and Kátsena, where from the weakness of age he lost his way when left alone. He has left on my memory an image which I shall always recall with pleasure. He was certainly the most honourable and religious man among the Kél-owí.

The market in our encampment, which continued till nightfall, reached its highest pitch at sunset, when the people of the town brought ready-made “túwo,” each dish, with rather a small allowance, selling for three kurdí, or not quite the fourth part of a farthing. I, however, was happy in not being thrown upon this three-kurdí supper; and while I indulged in my own home-made dish, Gajére entertained me with the narrative of a nine days’ siege, which the warlike inhabitants of Gazáwa had sustained, ten years previously, against the whole army of the famous Bello.

Sunday, Jan. 19.—We remained encamped, and my day was most agreeably and usefully spent in gathering information with regard to the regions which I had just entered. There was first Maʿadi, the slave of Ánnur, a native of Bórnu, who when young had been made prisoner by the Búdduma of the lake, and had resided three years among these interesting people, till having fallen into the hands of the Welád Slimán, then in Kánem, he at length, on the occasion of the great expedition of the preceding year, had fallen into the power of the Kél-owí. Although he owed the loss of his liberty to the freebooting islanders, he was nevertheless a great admirer of theirs, and a sincere vindicator of their character. He represented them as a brave and high-spirited people, who made glorious and successful inroads upon the inhabitants of the shores of the lake with surprising celerity, while at home they were a pious and God-fearing race, and knew neither theft nor fraud among themselves. He concluded his eloquent eulogy of this valorous nation of pirates by expressing his fervent hope that they might for ever preserve their independence against the ruler of Bórnu.

I then wrote, from the mouth of Gajére and Yáhia (another of my friends), a list of the places lying round about Gazáwa, as follows: On the east side, Mádobí, Maíjirgí, Kógena na kay-debu, Kórmasa, Kórgom, Kánche (a little independent principality); Gumdá, half a day east of Gazáwa, with numbers of Ásbenáwa; Démbeda, or Dúmbida, at less distance; Shabáli, Babíl, Túrmeni, Gínga, Kandémka, Sabó-n-kefí, Zángoni-n-ákwa, Kúrni, Kurnáwa, Dángudaw. On the west side, where the country is more exposed to the inroads of the Fúlbe or Féllani, there is only one place of importance, called Tindúkku, which name seems to imply a close relation to the Tuarek. All these towns and villages are said to be in a certain degree dependent on Raffa, the “babá” (i.e. great man or chief) of Gazáwa, who, however, himself owes allegiance to the supreme ruler of Marádi.

There was an exciting stir in the encampment at about ten o’clock in the morning, illustrative of the restless struggle going on in these regions. A troop of about forty horsemen, mostly well mounted, led on by the serkí-n-Gumdá, and followed by a body of tall, slender archers, quite naked but for their leathern aprons, passed through the different rows of the áïri, on their way to join the expedition which the prince of Marádi was preparing against the Féllani.

About noon the natron caravan of Háj Al Wáli, which I had seen in Tasáwa, came marching up in solemn order, led on by two drums, and affording a pleasant specimen of the character of the Háusa people. Afterwards I went into the town, which was distant from my tent about half a mile. Being much exposed to attacks from the Mohammedans, as the southernmost Pagan place belonging to the Marádi-Góber Union, Gazáwa has no open suburbs outside its strong stockade, which is surrounded by a deep ditch. It forms almost a regular quadrangle, having a gate on each side, built of clay, which gives to the whole fortification a more regular character, besides the greater strength which the place derives from this precaution. Each gateway is twelve feet deep, and furnished on its top with a rampart sufficiently capacious for about a dozen archers. The interior of the town is almost of the same character as Tasáwa; but Gazáwa is rather more closely built, though I doubt whether its circumference exceeds that of the former place. The market is held every day, but, as might be supposed, is far inferior to that of Tasáwa, which is a sort of little entrepôt for the merchants coming from the north, and affords much more security than Gazáwa, which, though an important place with regard to the struggle carried on between Paganism and Islamism in these quarters, is not so with respect to commerce. The principal things offered for sale were cattle, meat, vegetables of different kinds, and earthenware pots. Gazáwa has also a máriná, or dyeing-place, but of less extent than that of Tasáwa, as most of its inhabitants are Pagans, and wear no clothing but the leathern apron. Their character appeared to me to be far more grave than that of the inhabitants of Tasáwa, and this is a natural consequence of the precarious position in which they are placed, as well as of their more warlike disposition. The whole population is certainly not less than ten thousand.

Having visited the market, I went to the house of the mʿallem, where I found several Ásbenáwa belonging to our caravan enjoying themselves in a very simple manner, eating the fruits of the kaña, which are a little larger than cherries, but not so soft and succulent. The mʿallem, as I had an opportunity of learning on this occasion, is a protégé of Elaíji, to whom the house belongs. Returning with my companions to our encampment, I witnessed a very interesting sort of dance, or rather gymnastic play, performed on a large scale by the Kél-owí, who being arranged in long rows, in pairs, and keeping up a regular motion, pushed along several of their number under their arms—not very unlike some of our old dances.

Monday, Jan. 20.—Starting early in the morning, we felt the cold very sensibly, the thermometer standing at 48° Fahr. a little before sunset. Cultivated fields interrupted from time to time the underwood for the first three miles, while the “ngílle,” or “kába,” formed the most characteristic feature of the landscape; but dúm-palms, at first very rarely seen, soon became prevalent, and continued for the next two miles. Then the country became more open, while in the distance to the left extended a low range of hills. New species of trees appeared, which I had not seen before, as the “kókia,” a tree with large leaves of a dark-green colour, with a green fruit of the size of an apple, but not eatable. The first solitary specimens of the gigiña, or deléb-palm, which is one of the most characteristic trees of the more southern regions, were also met with.

Moving silently along, about noon we met a considerable caravan, with a great number of oxen and asses led by two horsemen, and protected in the rear by a strong guard of archers; for this is one of the most dangerous routes in all Central Africa, where every year a great many parties are plundered by marauders, no one being responsible for the security of this disputed territory. We had here a thick forest on our left, enlivened by numbers of birds; then about two o’clock in the afternoon we entered a fine undulating country, covered with a profusion of herbage, while the large gámshi-tree, with its broad fleshy leaves of the finest green, formed the most remarkable object of the vegetable kingdom. All this country was once a bustling scene of life, with numbers of towns and villages, till, at the very commencement of this century, the “Jihádi,” or Reformer, rose among the Fúlbe of Góber, and, inflaming them with fanatic zeal, urged them on to merciless warfare against Pagans as well as Mohammedans.

It was here that my companions drew my attention to the tracks of the elephant, of whose existence in the more northern regions we had not hitherto seen the slightest trace; so that this seems to be the limit of its haunts on this side; and it was shortly afterwards that Gajére descried in the distance a living specimen making slowly off to the east; but my sight was not strong enough to distinguish it. Thus we entered the thicker part of the forest, and about half-past four in the afternoon reached the site of the large town of Dánkama, whither Mágajin Háddedu, the king of Kátsena, had retired after his residence had been taken by the Fúlbe, and from whence he waged unrelenting but unsuccessful war against the bloody-minded enemies of the religious as well as political independence of his country. Once, indeed, the Fúlbe were driven out of Kátsena; but they soon returned with renewed zeal and with a fresh army, and the Háusa prince was expelled from his ancient capital for ever. After several battles, Dánkama, whither all the nobility and wealth of Kátsena had retired, was taken, ransacked, and burnt.

A solitary colossal kúka (baobab), representing in its huge, leafless, and gloomy frame the sad recollections connected with this spot, shoots out from the prickly underwood which thickly overgrows the locality, and points out the market-place, once teeming with life. It was a most affecting moment; for, as if afraid of the evil spirits dwelling in this wild and deserted spot, all the people of the caravan, while we were thronging along the narrow paths opening between the thick prickly underwood, shouted with wild cries, cursing and execrating the Féllani, the authors of so much mischief; all the drums were beating, and every one pushed on in order to get out of this melancholy neighbourhood as soon as possible.

Having passed a little after sunset a large granitic mass projecting from the ground, called Korremátse, and once a place of worship, we saw in the distance, in front, the fires of those parties of the aïri which had preceded us; and greeting them with a wild cry, we encamped on the uneven ground in great disorder, as it had become quite dark. After a long march I felt very glad when the tent was at length pitched. While the fire was lighted, and the supper preparing, Gajére informed me that, besides Dánkama, Bello destroyed also the towns of Jankúki and Madáwa in this district, which now presents such a frightful wilderness.

In the course of the night the roar of a lion was heard close by our encampment.

Tuesday, Jan. 21.—We started, with general enthusiasm, at an early hour; and the people of our troop seeing the fires of the other divisions of the salt caravan in front of us still burning, jeered at their laziness, till at length, on approaching within a short distance of the fires, we found that the other people had set out long before, leaving their fires burning. A poor woman, carrying a load on her head, and leading a pair of goats, had attached herself to our party in Gazáwa; and though she had lost her goats in the bustle of the previous afternoon, she continued her journey cheerfully and with resignation.

After five hours’ march the whole caravan was suddenly brought to a stand for some time, the cause of which was a ditch of considerable magnitude, dug right across the path, and leaving only a narrow passage, the beginning of a small path which wound along through thick, thorny underwood. This, together with the ditch, formed a sort of outer defence for the cultivated fields and the pasture-grounds of Kátsena, against any sudden inroad. Having passed another projecting mass of granite rock, we passed two small villages on our left, called Túlla and Takumáku, from whence the inhabitants came out to salute us. We encamped at length in a large stubble-field, beyond some kitchen-gardens, where pumpkins (dúmma) were planted, two miles north-east from the town of Kátsena. While we were pitching my tent, which was the only one in the whole encampment, the Sultan or Governor of Kátsena came out with a numerous retinue of horsemen, all well dressed and mounted; and having learnt from Elaíji that I was a Christian traveller belonging to a mission (a fact, however, which he knew long before), he sent me soon afterwards a ram and two large calabashes or dúmmos filled with honey—an honour which was rather disagreeable to me than otherwise, as it placed me under the necessity of making the governor a considerable present in return. I had no article of value with me, and I began to feel some unpleasant foreboding of future difficulties.

An approximative estimate of the entire number of the salt caravan, as affording the means of accurately determining the amount of a great national commerce carried on between widely separated countries, had much occupied my attention, and having in vain tried on the road to arrive at such an estimate, I did all I could to-day to obtain a list of the different divisions composing it; but although Yáhia, one of the principal of Ánnur’s people, assured me that there were more than thirty troops, I was not able to obtain particulars of more than the following; viz. encamped on this same ground with us was the salt caravan of Ánnur, of Elaíji, of Hámma with the Kél-táfidet, of Sálah, of Háj Makhmúd with the Kél-tagrímmat, of Ámaki with the Amákita, of the Imasághlar (led by Mohammed dan Ággeg), of the Kél-azanéres, of the Kél-ínger (the people of Zingína), of the Kél-ágwau, and finally that of the Kél-chémia. No doubt none of these divisions had more than two hundred camels laden with salt, exclusive of the young and the spare camels; the whole of the salt, therefore, collected here at the time was at the utmost worth one hundred millions of kurdí, or about eight thousand pounds sterling. Beside the divisions of the aïri which I have just enumerated as encamped on this spot, the Erázar were still behind, while the following divisions had gone on in advance: the Kél-n-Néggaru; the Iseráraran, with the chief Bárka and the támberi (war chieftain) Nasóma; and the Ikázkezan, with the chiefs Mohammed Irólagh and Wuentúsa.

We may therefore not be far from the truth if we estimate the whole number of the salt caravan of the Kél-owí of this year at two thousand five hundred camels. To this must be added the salt which had gone to Zínder, and which I estimate at about a thousand camel-loads, and that which had been left in Tasáwa for the supply of the markets of the country as far as Góber, which I estimate at from two hundred to three hundred camel-loads. But it must be borne in mind that the country of Ásben had been for some time in a more than ordinarily turbulent state, and that consequently the caravan was at this juncture probably less numerous than it would be in quiet times.

Being rather uneasy with regard to the intention of the governor of the province, I went early the next morning to Elaíji, and assured him that besides some small things, such as razors, cloves, and frankincense, I possessed only two red caps to give to the governor, and that I could not afford to contract more debts by buying a bernús. The good old man was himself aware of the governor’s intention, who, he told me, had made up his mind to get a large present from me, otherwise he would not allow me to continue my journey. I wanted to visit the town, but was prevented from doing so under these circumstances, and therefore remained in the encampment.

The governor, who spends a great deal of his time in a country house which he has recently built outside the town, about noon held a sort of review of several hundred horsemen, whose horses, in general, were in excellent condition. They were armed with a straight sword hanging on the left, a long heavy spear for thrusting, and a shield, either of the same description as that of the Tuarek, of oblong shape, made of the hide of the large antelope (Leucoryx), or else of bullock’s or elephant’s hide, and forming an immense circular disc of about five feet in diameter; some of them wore also the dagger at the left arm, while I counted not more than four or five muskets. Their dress was picturesque, and not too flowing for warlike purposes, the large shirt, or shirts (for they generally wear two), being fastened round the breast with an Egyptian shawl with a red border; and even those who were dressed in a bernús had it wound round their breasts. Most of them wore black “ráwani,” or shawls, round their faces, a custom which the Féllani of Háusa have adopted from the Tuarek merely on account of its looking warlike; for they have no superstitious reason for covering the mouth. The harness of the horses was all of Háusa manufacture, the saddles very different from those of the Tuarek (which seem to be identical with the old Arab saddles). The stirrups formed a very peculiar kind of medium between the large, unwieldy stirrups of the modern Arab and the small ones of the Tuarek and Europeans, the sole of the stirrup being long, but turned down at both ends, while it is so narrow that the rider can only thrust the naked foot into it. I could not understand the principle upon which this kind of stirrup is made. It appeared to me a most absurd specimen of workmanship.

The Féllani in Kátsena have good reason to be on their guard against the Kél-owí, who, in an underhand way, are always assisting the independent Háusa states of Góber and Marádi in their struggle, and might some day easily make common cause with them to drive out these arrogant intruders from the conquered provinces. In fact they have done all in their power to attain this object; and Ánnur’s policy is so well known to the Féllani that once when he came to Kátsena he received most shameful treatment at their hands. Afterwards I was visited by el Wákhshi, and paid him in return a visit at that part of the encampment where some of his merchandise was deposited, for he himself was living in the town. Here he introduced to me a person who was very soon to become one of my direst tormentors, the bare remembrance of whom is even now unpleasant; it was the háj Bel-Ghét, a man born in Tawát, but who had long been settled in Kátsena, and though not with the title, yet in reality holding the office of a “serkí-n-turáwa.”

A troop of eight mounted royal musicians (“masukídda-n-serkí”), who had been playing the whole day before the several divisions of the “aïri,” came likewise to my tent in the course of the afternoon, and gratified my ears with a performance on their various instruments. There was the drum, or “ganga,” very much like our own instrument of that kind, and of about the same size as the common regimental drum; the long wind instrument, or “pampámme;” a shorter one, a sort of flute, or “elgaita;”[15] a sort of double tambourine, or “kalángo;” a simple tympanum, or “koso;” a sort of double Egyptian darabúka, called “jójo;” and a small horn, or “kafó.” The most common among them is the “jójo,” which in Háusa is the chief instrument made use of in an expedition, and, if accompanied by the voice, is not disagreeable. With these various instruments the well-mounted horsemen made a pretty good noise; but it was neither harmonious nor characteristic: to all this pompous imitative music I prefer a few strains with natural feeling by a solitary maimólo. I was obliged to reward my entertainers with a large quantity of cloves, as I had scarcely anything else left.

I was rather astonished to hear that the Ásbenáwa do not pay passage-money to the governor according to the number of their camels, but that every freeman among them makes him a present of one kántu of salt. For every beast of burden, be it pack-ox or donkey, five hundred kurdí are generally paid.

Thursday, Jan. 23.—Having assorted such a present as I could afford, I protested once more to Elaíji that, my other luggage having gone on in advance to Kanó, I had but very little to offer the governor.

I went about noon with my protector and a great number of Ásbenáwa to offer the governor my compliments and my present. Sitting down under a tree at a considerable distance from the spot where he himself was seated, we waited a little, till we should be called into his presence, when his brother, who held the office of ghaladíma, came to us—a man of immense corpulency, resembling a eunuch. Indeed, nothing but the cut of his face, his aquiline nose and rather light colour, and the little goatlike beard which ornamented his chin could expose him to the suspicion of being a Púllo or Ba-Féllanchi.[16] He wanted to treat my business apart from that of Elaíji, who, however, declared that he had come only for my sake. While the fat ghaladíma was returning to inform his brother of what he had heard, a troop of well-mounted Kélesárar (who, as I was told, are settled at present in the province of Kátsena) came up at full speed. It was not long before a servant came from the serkí, inviting me alone into his presence.

Mohammed Béllo Yeríma, the eldest son of the former well-known governor, Mʿallem Ghomáro,[17] was seated under a widespreading and luxuriant tamarind-tree, dressed simply in a large white shirt with a black ráwani round his face. The Ásbenáwa, who formed a large semicircle around him, were dressed most gaudily. Stepping into the opening of the semicircle, I saluted the governor, telling him that as I and my companions had lost, on the border of Asben, almost all the valuable property we had brought with us, and as the few things left to me had gone on to Kanó, he ought to excuse me for being unable at the present moment to offer him a present worthy of his high position; that it was my desire to go on without delay to Kanó, in order to settle my affairs, and to proceed to Bórnu, where we expected to receive fresh supplies, after which one of our party certainly would go to Sókoto, in order to pay our respects to the Emír el Múmenín. The governor answered my address with much apparent kindness, telling me that I was now in his “imána,” or under his protection, and that he had no other purpose but to do what would be conducive to my advantage. He then asked the news of my companions, though he knew all about them, and did not appear to take the least offence at Mr. Overweg’s going to Marádi, although the people and the ruler of that place were his most inveterate enemies. But things must not be looked upon here as they would be in Europe; for here people are accustomed to see strangers from the north pay visits to all sorts of princes, whatever may be their policy. However, while he spoke in rather friendly terms to me, and while my presents were received thankfully by the servants, he declared to the people who were sitting near him that as the ruler of Bórnu had laid hold of one of my companions, and that of Marádi of the other, he should be a fool if he were to let me pass out of his hands. I therefore took leave of him with no very light heart.

My present consisted of two fine red caps, a piece of printed calico which I had bought in Múrzuk for four Spanish dollars, but which was of a pattern not much liked in Sudán, an English razor and scissors, one pound of cloves, another of frankincense, a piece of fine soap, and a packet of English needles. Though it certainly was not a very brilliant present, yet, considering that I did not want anything from him, it was quite enough; but the fact was that he wanted something more from me, and therefore it was not sufficient.

Early the following morning, while it was still dark, a servant of the governor came with Elaíji to my tent, requesting me to stay voluntarily behind the caravan. Though this would have been the best plan, had I known that the governor had set his heart upon keeping me back, yet I could not well assent to it, as I had nothing at all with me, not even sufficient to keep me and my people for a short time from starving. I therefore told him that it was impossible for me to stay behind, and prepared to go on with the caravan which was setting out. This, however, Elaíji would not allow me to do, but while all the divisions of the aïri started one after the other, he himself remained behind with several of the principal men of the caravan, till Háj Bel-Ghét came and announced that it was necessary for me to go to the town, there to await the decision of the governor. Seeing that nothing was to be done but to obey, and having in vain shown my letter of recommendation from the Sultan of Ágades, from which, as I had feared from the beginning, nothing was inferred but that I had been directly forwarded by him to the Governor of Kátsena in order to see me safe to Sókoto, I took leave of Elaíji, thanking him and his friends for their trouble, and followed Bel-Ghét and his companion Músa into the town.

The immense mass of the wall, measuring in its lower part not less than thirty feet, and its wide circumference, made a deep impression upon me. The town (if town it may be called) presented a most cheerful rural scene, with its detached light cottages, and its stubble-fields shaded with a variety of fine trees; but I suspect that this ground was not entirely covered with dwellings even during the most glorious period of Kátsena. We travelled a mile and a half before we reached the “zínsere,” a small dwelling used by the governor as a place of audience—on account, as it seems, of a splendid widespreading fig-tree growing close to it, and forming a thick shady canopy sufficient for a large number of people.

I, however, was conducted to the other side of the building, where a quadrangular chamber projects from the half-decayed wall, and had there to wait a long time, till the governor came into town from his new country seat. Having at last arrived, he called me, and, thanking me for remaining with him, he promised that I should be well treated as his guest, and that without delay a house should be placed at my disposal. He was a man of middle age, and had much in his manners and features which made him resemble an actor; and such he really is, and was still more so in his younger days.

Taking leave of him for the present, I followed Bel-Ghét to my quarters; but we had still a good march to make, first through detached dwellings of clay, then leaving the immense palace of the governor on our left, and entering what may be strictly called the town, with connected dwellings. Here I was lodged in a small house opposite the spacious dwelling of Bel-Ghét; and though on first entering I found it almost insupportable, I soon succeeded in making myself tolerably comfortable in a clean room neatly arranged. It seemed to have once formed the snug seat for a well-furnished harím; at least the dark passages leading to the interior could not be penetrated by a stranger’s eye. We had scarcely taken possession of our quarters when the governor sent me a ram and two ox-loads of corn—one of “dáwa,” and the other of “géro.” But instead of feeling satisfied with this abundant provision, we were quite horrified at it, as I with my three people might have subsisted a whole year on the corn sent us; and we began to have uneasy forebodings of a long detention. Indeed, we suspected, and were confirmed in our suspicion by the statements of several people, that it was the governor’s real intention to forward me directly to Sókoto, a circumstance which alienated from me my servants—even the faithful Mohammed el Gatróni, who was much afraid of going there.

However, my new protector, Bel-Ghét, did not leave me much time for reflection, but soon came back to take me again to the governor. Having sat awhile in the cool shade of the tree, we were called into his audience-room, which was nothing more than the round hut or dérne (“zaure” in Kanúri) which generally forms the entrance and passage-room in every Púllo establishment. Besides myself, the háj Bel-Ghét, and his constant companion Músa, there was also the wealthy merchant Háj Wáli, whom I had seen in Tasáwa, when he tried to persuade me to follow the men sent to take me to Zínder, while he now sought to represent the governor of Kátsena as the greatest man in all Negroland, and the best friend I could have. The governor soon began to display his talent as an actor, and had the unfortunate letter from the Sultan of Ágades read, interpreted, and commented upon. According to the sagacious interpretation of these men, the purport of the letter was to recommend me expressly to this governor as a fit person to be detained in his company. All my representations to the effect that my friend ʿAbd el Káder had recommended me in exactly the same terms to the governors of Dáura and Kanó, and that I had forwarded a letter from Ágades to the Emír el Múmenín, in Sókoto, informing him that as soon as we had received new supplies from the coast one of us at least would certainly pay him a visit, which under present circumstances, robbed and destitute as we were, we could not well do, were all in vain; he had an answer for every objection, and was impudent enough to tell me that a message had been received from Marádi, soliciting me to go thither; that as Bórnu had laid hold of one of my companions, and Marádi of the other, so he would lay hold of me, but of course only in order to become my benefactor (“se al khére”). Seeing that reply was useless, and that it was much better to let this lively humourist go through his performance, and to wait patiently for the end of the comedy, I took leave of him, and returned to my quarters.

Late in the evening the governor sent for Mohammed, who could scarcely be expected, with his fiery and inconsiderate behaviour, to improve the state of things; and as the governor’s dwelling was a good way off, I was obliged to allow him to go armed with a pair of pistols, which soon attracted the attention of our host, who complained bitterly that while all the petty chiefs had received from us such splendid presents, he, the greatest man in Negroland, had got nothing. Mohammed having told him that the pistols belonged to me, he wanted me to present them to him; but this I obstinately refused, as I was convinced that the whole success of our further proceedings depended on our firearms.

I was rather glad when el Wákhshi called upon me the following morning, as I trusted he might help me out of the scrape. After conversing with him about my situation, I went out with him to stroll about the town. We had gone, however, but a little way when Bel-Ghét saw us, and reprimanded me severely for going out without asking his permission. Growing rather warm at such humiliating treatment, I told him, in very plain terms, that as long as the governor refrained from posting soldiers before my door I would regard myself as a free man, and at liberty to go where I chose. Seeing that he could not wreak his anger directly upon me, he tried to do it indirectly, by reprimanding my companion for going about with this “káfer,” and confirming the “káfer” in his refractoriness against the will of the Sultan. Not feeling much honoured with the title thus bestowed on me, I told him that as yet nobody in the whole town had insulted me with that epithet, but that he alone had the insolence to apply it. When the miserable fellow saw me irritated he did not hesitate to declare that, though well versed in the Kurán, he had been entirely unaware of the meaning of “káfer,” and begged me to give him full information about the relations of the English to the various Mohammedan states. When I came to speak about Morocco he interrupted me, as, being a native of Gurára, he might be presumed to know the relations of those countries better than I did; and he insisted that the English were not on good terms with the Emperor of Morocco and were not allowed to visit Fás (Fez). I then declared to him that there could scarcely be a more unmistakable proof of the friendly relations existing between the English and Mulʿa ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán than the present of four magnificent horses, which the latter had lately sent to the Queen of England. He then confessed that he was more of an antiquarian, and ignorant of the present state of matters; but he was quite sure that during the time of Mulʿa Ismʿaíl it certainly was as he had stated. To this I replied, that while all the Mohammedan states, including Morocco, had since that time declined in power, the Christians, and the English in particular, had made immense steps in advance. We then shook hands, and I left the poor Moslim to his own reflections.

Proceeding with el Wákhshi on our intended promenade, and laughing at the scrape into which he had almost got by changing (in the dispute with Bel-Ghét) the honorary title of the latter, “Sultàn ben eʾ Sultán” (Sultan, son of Sultan), into that of “Shitán ben eʾ Shitán” (Satan, son of Satan), we went to the house of a ghadámsi, where we found several Arab and native merchants collected together, and among them a ghadámsi who bore the same name as that which, for more friendly intercourse with the natives, I had adopted on these journeys, namely, that of ʿAbd el Kerím. This man had accompanied ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) on his second journey from Kanó to Sókoto, and was well acquainted with all the circumstances attending his death. He was greatly surprised to hear that “Ríshar” (Richard Lander), whom he had believed to be a younger brother of Clapperton, had not only successfully reached the coast, after his circuitous journey to Danróro, and after having been dragged back by force from his enterprising march upon Fanda, but had twice returned from England to those quarters before he fell a victim to his arduous exertions.

I then returned, with my old Ghadámsi friend, to my lodgings, where Bel-Ghét came soon after us, and once more begged my pardon for having called me “káfer.”

Afterwards el Wákhshi brought me a loaf of sugar, that I might make a present of it to Bel-Ghét. On this occasion he cast his eyes on a small telescope which I had bought in Paris for six francs, and begged me to give it to him for the loaf of sugar which he had just lent me. I complied with his wish. Taking the loaf of sugar with me, and the two other letters of the Sultan of Ágades, as well that addressed to the Governor of Dáura, as that to the Governor of Kanó, I went to Bel-Ghét, and, presenting him with the sugar as a small token of my acknowledgment for the trouble he was taking in my behalf, I showed him the letters as a proof that the Sultan of Ágades never intended to forward me to his friend the Governor of Kátsena as a sort of “abenchí” or a tit-bit for himself, but that he acknowledged entirely my liberty of action, and really wished to obtain protection for me wherever I might choose to go. Bel-Ghét, being touched by the compliments I paid him, affected to understand now for the first time the real circumstances of my case, and promised to lend me his assistance if I would bind myself to return to Kátsena from Bórnu, after having received sufficient supplies from the coast. This I did to a certain degree, under the condition that circumstances should not prove unfavourable to such a proceeding; indeed I doubted at that time very much whether I should be able to return this way again. But when I did re-visit Kátsena in the beginning of 1853, with a considerable supply of presents, and met before the gates of the town this same man, who had been sent to compliment me on the part of the same governor, it was a triumph which I could scarcely have expected. The old man was on the latter occasion almost beside himself with joy, and fell upon my neck exclaiming, over and over again, “ʿAbd el Kerím! ʿAbd el Kerím!” while I told him, “Here I am, although both my companions have died; I am come to fulfil my promise. I am on my way to Sókoto, with valuable presents for the Emír el Múmenín.”

Leaving Bel-Ghét in better humour, I went with el Wákhshi to his house, where he treated me and two Ásbenáwa with a dish of roasted fowl and dates, after which I proceeded with him through the decayed and deserted quarter where the rich Ghadámsíye merchants once lived, and through some other streets in a rather better state, to the market-place, which forms a large regular quadrangle, with several rows of sheds, or runfá, of the same style as those in Tasáwa, but much better and more regularly built. Of course there was here a better supply of native cotton cloth and of small Nuremberg wares, in the market, than in the former place; but otherwise there was nothing particular, and altogether it was dull, showing the state of decay into which this once splendid and busy emporium of Negroland had fallen.

The most interesting thing I observed in the market were limes, of tolerably large size and extremely cheap, and the beautiful large fruit of the gónda (Carica Papaya), which had just begun to ripen; however, the latter was rather dear, considering the low price of provisions in general, a fine papaw being sold for from twenty-five to thirty kurdí, a sum which may keep a poor man from starvation for five days. In Kanó I afterwards saw this fruit cut into thin slices, which were sold for one “urí” (shell) each. Having sat for a long time with el Wákhshi in a runfá, without being exposed to any insult whatever, though I was necessarily an object of some curiosity, I returned home and passed the evening quietly with my people, Gajére giving me reason all the time for the utmost satisfaction with his faithful and steadfast behaviour. Besides being sincerely attached to me, he was persuaded that he possessed influence enough to get me out of my scrape; and thus he informed me, as a great secret, that he had forwarded a message to Ánnur, giving him full information of my case, and that in consequence I might give myself no further trouble, but rely entirely upon that chief’s assistance. While he was thus cheering my spirits in the evening, as we lay round the fire in our courtyard, he frequently repeated the words, “Kasó mutúm dondádi uyátaso, kádda kakíshi da kúmmia,” contrasting his own faithfulness with the faithless, frivolous behaviour of Mohammed el Túnsi, whom he called “mógo mutúm” (a bad sort of fellow). But Gajére also had his own reasons for not being so very angry at our delay, as the lean mare which I had hired of him had a sore back and was in a rather weak state, so that a little rest and a full measure of corn every day was not so much amiss for her.

El Wákhshi returned the same evening, giving me hope that I might get off the next day. However, this proved to be empty talk; for the following day my business with the pompous Béllo made no progress, he demanding nothing less from me than one hundred thousand kurdí or cowries—a sum certainly small according to European modes of thinking, barely exceeding 8l., but which I was quite unable to raise at the time. Béllo was mean enough to found his claims upon his noble but quite uncalled-for hospitality, having given me, as he said, two rams, two vessels of honey, and two loads of corn, altogether worth from eleven to twelve thousand cowries; and I now felt myself fully justified in changing his noble title “Sultán, ben Sultán” into that of “Dellál, ben dellál” (Broker, son of a broker). Even my old friend el Wákhshi took the occasion of this new difficulty of mine to give vent to his feelings as a merchant, saying that this was the “dʿawa” (the curse) attending our (the English) proceedings against the slave-trade. And it must be confessed that the merchants of Ghadámes have suffered a great deal from the abolition of the slave-trade in Tunis, without being compensated for this loss by the extension or increased security of legitimate commerce. Seeing that the slave-trade is still carried on in Núpe or Nýffi, where, they are persuaded, the English could prevent it if they would, and that it is there carried on not by Mohammedans but by Christians, they have plausible grounds for being angry with the English nation.

I had a highly interesting discussion with my old fanatical friend Bel-Ghét. It seems that after I had protested against his calling me “káfer” the other day, he had held a consultation on this subject with some people of his own faith; and his zeal being thus revived, he returned to-day to urge the point. He began with questioning me about the different nations that professed Christianity, and which among them were the “kofár;” for some of them, he was quite sure, were, and deserved to be, so called. I replied that the application of the word depended on the meaning attached to it, and that if he understood by the word káfer anybody who doubted of the mission of Mohammed, of course a great many Christians were kofár; but if, with more reason, he called by this name only those who had no idea of the unity of God, and venerated other objects besides the Almighty God, that it could then be applied only to a few Christians, particularly to those of the Greek, and to the less enlightened of the Catholic Church, though even these venerated the crucifix and the images rather as symbols than as idols. But I confessed to him that, with regard to the unity of the Divine Being, Islám certainly was somewhat purer than the creeds of most of the Christian sects; and I acknowledged that, just at the time when Mohammed appeared, Christianity had sunk considerably below the level of its pristine purity. The old man went away pleased with what I had told him, and swore that he would not again call the English kofár, but that, with my permission, he would still apply that name to the “Mósko” (the Russians).

In the afternoon his son, a man of about five and thirty, came to visit me, accompanied by a sheríf from Yeman, who had been to Bombay, and was well acquainted with the English; he was now on his way to Timbúktu, in order to vindicate his right of inheritance to the property of a wealthy merchant who had died there. In this, however, he was unsuccessful; and when I reached Timbúktu in September, 1853, he had left it some time previously with broken spirits and in great distress. He perished on his way home. He was an amiable and intelligent man, and visited me several times. From him and his companion I received intimation of a large “Christian book,” bound in leather, with edges and lock made of metal, in the possession of a Púllo or Ba-Féllanchi in the town; but no one could tell me whether it was manuscript or print, and although I offered to pay for a sight of it, I never succeeded in my object. It might be one of those heavy books which Clapperton, when dying, told Lander rather to leave behind than take with him to England.

Tuesday, Jan. 28.—I at length succeeded in arranging matters with the governor. Early in the morning I sent Mohammed to el Wákhshi in order to try and settle the business, telling him that I was ready to make any possible sacrifice; and he sent me a bernús for fifty-two thousand kurdí. While I was hesitating about contracting a new debt of such magnitude (in my poor circumstances), Bel-Ghét, who evidently feared that if I gave one large present to the governor, he himself would get nothing, intimated to me that it would be better to choose several small articles. El Wákhshi therefore procured a caftan of very common velvet, a carpet, a sedríye or close waistcoat, and a shawl, which altogether did not exceed the price of thirty-one thousand kurdí; so that I saved more than twenty thousand. In order, however, to give to the whole a more unpremeditated, honorary, and professional appearance, I added to it a pencil, a little frankincense, and two strong doses of Epsom salts.

While Bel-Ghét was engaged in negotiating peace for me with the eccentric governor, I went with el Wákhshi and Gajére to the market, and thence proceeded with the latter, who, stout and portly, strode before me with his heavy spear, like a stately bodyguard or “kavás,” to the house of Mánzo, an agent of Masáwaji, who always lives here, and paid him our compliments. Passing then by the house of the Sultan of Ágades (“gída-n-serkí-n-Agades”), who occasionally resides here, we went to the “kófan Gúga” (the north-western gate of the town), which my companion represented to me as belonging entirely to the Ásbenáwa; for as long as Kátsena formed the great emporium of this part of Africa the aïri used to encamp in the plain outside this gate. The wall is here very strong and high, at least from without, where the height is certainly not less than from five and thirty to forty feet, while in the interior the rubbish and earth has accumulated against it to such a degree that a man may very easily look over it; the consequence is that during the rains a strong torrent, formed here, rushes out of the gate. On the outside there is also a deep, broad ditch. We returned to our lodging by way of the “máriná” and the market, both of which places were already sunk in the repose and silence of night.

I had scarcely re-entered my dark quarters, when Bel-Ghét arrived, telling me that the governor did not want my property at all; however, to do honour to my present, he would condescend to keep the caftan and the carpet, but he sent me back the sedríye and the shawl—of course to be given as a present to his agent and commissioner, my noble friend from Gurára. The governor, however, was anxious to obtain some more medicines from me. He at the same time promised to make me a present of a horse. Although I had but a small store of medicines with me, I chose a few powders of quinine, of tartar-emetic, and of acetate of lead, and gave him a small bottle with a few drops of laudanum, while it was arranged that on the following morning I should explain to the governor himself the proper use of these medicines.

The next morning, therefore, I proceeded with Bel-Ghét, to whose swollen eye I had successfully applied a lotion, and whose greediness I had satisfied with another small present on the way to the “zínsere.” He wished to show me the interior of the immense palace, or the “fáda;” but he could not obtain access to it, and I did not see it till on my second visit to Kátsena.

Béllo received me in his private apartment, and detained me for full two hours while I gave him complete information about the use of the medicines. He wanted, besides, two things from me, which I could not favour him with—things of a very different character, and the most desired by all the princes of Negroland. One of these was a “mágani-n-algúwa” (a medicine to increase his conjugal vigour); the other, some rockets, as a “mágani-n-yáki” (a medicine of war), in order to frighten his enemies.

Not being able to comply with these two modest wishes of his, I had great difficulty in convincing him of my goodwill; and he remained incredulous to my protestations that we had intentionally not taken such things as rockets with us, as we were afraid that if we gave such a thing to one prince, his neighbour might become fiercely hostile to us. But he remarked that he would keep such a gift a secret. I was very glad he did not say a word more about the pistols; but in order to give me a proof that he knew how to value fine things, he showed me the scissors and razor which I had given him the other day, for which he had got a sheath made, and wore them constantly at his left side. He then told me he would make me a present of an “abi-n-háwa” (something to mount upon), intimating already by this expression that it would not be a first-rate horse, as I had not complied with his heart’s desire, but that it would be furnished with saddle and harness, and that besides he would send me a large “hákkori-n-gíwa” (an elephant’s tooth) to Kanó. This latter offer I declined, saying that, though my means were very small at present, I did not like to turn merchant. He reminded me then of my promise to return; and we parted the best of friends. Notwithstanding the injustice of every kind which he daily commits, he has some sentiment of honour; and feeling rather ashamed for having given me so much trouble for nothing, as he was aware that it would become known to all his fellow-governors, and probably even to his liege lord, the Emír el Múmenín, he was anxious to vindicate his reputation. It was from the same motive that he begged me most urgently not to tell anybody that I had made him the presents here, adding, that he would afterwards say that he had received them from me from Kanó.

Having returned home, I thankfully received the compliments which were made me from different quarters on account of the fortunate issue of my affair with this “munáfekí,” or evil-doer; and although the horse, which was not brought till next morning after we had been waiting for it a long while, proved rather ill-looking and poor, being scarcely worth more than ten thousand kurdí, or four dollars, and though the saddle was broken and harness wanting altogether, I was quite content, and exulted in my good fortune. But before leaving this once most important place I shall try to give a short historical sketch of its past, and an outline of its present state.

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In order to render intelligible the anterior history of Kátsena, it will be necessary to enter into some preliminary explanation respecting the whole country of Háusa. The name Háusa was unknown, as it seems, to Leo Africanus; else instead of saying that the inhabitants of Zária, Kátsena, and Kanó spoke the language of Góber, he would have said that they spoke the Háusa language. But we have no right to conclude from this circumstance that the practice of giving the name Háusa, not only to the widely diffused language, but also to the countries collectively in which it prevails, is later than Leo’s time; on the contrary, I must acknowledge the improbability of such an assumption. It is true that, with the faint light available, we are unable to discern quite distinctly how the Háusa nation originated; but we may positively assert that it was not an indigenous nation, or at least that it did not occupy its present seat from very ancient times, but that it settled in the country at a comparatively recent date. As to one of the associated states, and the most prominent and noble amongst them (I mean Góber), we know positively that in ancient times it occupied tracts situated much further north;[18] and I have been assured that the name Háusa also proceeded from the same quarter—an opinion which seems to be confirmed by the affinity of that language with the Temáshight.[19] Whether the name was originally identical with the word “Áusa,” which, as we shall see, is used by the Western Tuarek and the people of Timbúktu to denote the country on this the northern side of the Great River, in opposition to “Gúrma,” the country on its southern side, I am unable to say.

Sultan Béllo’s statement that the Háusa people originated from a Bórnu slave, deserves very little credit. It is to be considered as merely expressive for his contempt for the effeminate manners of the Háusa people in his time. But their language, though it has a few words in common with the Kanúri, is evidently quite distinct from it, as well in its vocabulary as in its grammar. What Béllo says may be correct in a certain sense with regard to the population of Kanó, which indeed seems to consist, for the greater part, of Bórnu elements, though in course of time the people have adopted the Háusa language; and this may be the case also with other provinces, the original population having been more nearly related to the Manga-Bórnu stock. The name “Báwu,” which occurs in the mythical genealogy of the Háusa people as that of the ancestor of most of the Háusa states, can hardly be supposed to be a mere personification representing the state of slavery in which the nation formerly existed; the name for slave in the Háusa language is báwa, not báwu. It is, however, remarkable that this personage is said to be the son of Karbágarí, whose name evidently implies “the taking of a town,” and might be derived from the capture of the town of Bíram, which is universally represented as the oldest seat of the Háusa people, a tradition which is attested by a peculiar usage even at the present day. This town of Bíram is situated between Kanó and Khadéja, and is often called “Bíram-ta-ghabbes,” in order to distinguish it from a more westerly town of the same name. Bíram, the personification of this town, is said to have been, by his grandson, Báwu (the son of Karbágarí), the progenitor of the six other Háusa states (likewise personified): viz. Kátsena and Zégzeg, who are represented as twins; Kanó and Ranó, another pair of twins; Góber and Dáura. However, it seems almost universally acknowledged that of all these children Dáura was the eldest.[20]

More important in a historical point of view, and confirming what has been said above, appears to be the statement that the mother of these children belonged to the Déggara or Díggera, a Berber tribe at present established to the north of Múniyo, and once very powerful. Bíram, Dáura, Góber, Kanó, Ranó, Kátsena, and Zégzeg, are the well-known original seven Háusa states, the “Háusa bókoy” (the seven Háusa), while seven other provinces or countries, in which the Háusa language has spread to a great extent, although it is not the language of the aboriginal inhabitants, are called jocosely “bánza bókoy” (the upstart, or illegitimate); these are Zánfara, Kébbi, Núpe or Nýffi, Gwári, Yáuri, Yóruba or Yáriba, and Korórofa.

As for the six children of Báwu, they are said to have had each his share assigned to him by his father in the following way: Góber was appointed the “serkí-n-yáki” (the war-chief), in order to defend his brethren, Kanó and Ranó being made “sáraki-n-baba” (the ministers of the “máriná,” that peculiar emblem of the industry of Háusa), and Kátséna and Dáura “sáraki-n-káswa” (the ministers of intercourse and commerce), while Zégzeg is said to have been obliged to provide his brethren with those necessary instruments of social life in these regions, namely, slaves, becoming the “serkí-n-baÿ.” Ranó, which at present has been greatly reduced, though it is still a considerable place, situated south-west from Kanó, was originally, like each of the other towns, the capital of an independent territory, though not mentioned hitherto by any traveller who has spoken of Háusa.

If we credit Leo’s description, we must conclude that when he visited these regions, towards the end of the fifteenth century of our era, there was no capital in the province of Kátsena, the whole country being inhabited in “piccoli casali fatti a guisa di capanne.” For with respect to later events, which happened after he had left the country, and while he was writing his description, very imperfect information appears to have reached him. Now, the list of the kings of Kátsena, from a remote period, is still tolerably well preserved, together with the length of their respective reigns; and there is no reason whatever to doubt their general accuracy, as the history of the state has been in writing at least since the middle of the sixteenth century of our era, and we have something to control this list, and to connect it with facts gleaned from other quarters. This regards the period of the reign of the king Ibrahím Máji, who, as we know, lived in the time of the famous Tawáti Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím ben Maghíli, the friend and contemporary, as I have said above,[21] of the great encyclopædist Abu ’l Fadhl Jelál eʾ dín ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán el Khodairi eʾ Soyúti, commonly known under the name of Eʾ Sheikh eʾ Soyúti; and his connection with the King of Kátsena we are able to fix with tolerable certainty by his relation to the Sónghay king Is-hák, who is said to have excited his severest indignation by refusing to punish the people who had murdered his son in Gógó.[22] And although we can scarcely believe that the ruin of the Sónghay empire, and the rise of that of Kátsena, was the consequence of this holy man’s curse, nevertheless we are justified in presuming that after he had received offence from the king Is-hák, by being refused satisfaction, he began to cultivate friendly relations with the King of Kátsena, a country then rising into importance.

We are therefore justified in placing Ibrahím Máji (the King of Kátsena, whom the fanatic Moslim converted to Islám) about the middle of the tenth century of the Hejra. Now, if we count backwards from this period, adding together the years attributed to each reign, to Komáyo, the man who is universally stated to have founded Kátsena, we obtain at least three hundred and fifty years, which would carry back the political existence of the state of Kátsena to the beginning of the seventh century of the Hejra. In this computation we reduce the reign of the first two kings, or chiefs (of whom Komáyo is said to have reigned a hundred years, and his successor ninety), to about twenty years each. Excepting this little exaggeration, which is such as we find recurring in the early history of almost every nation, I do not see any reason for rejecting the list of the kings of this country, as it is preserved not only in the memory of the people, but even in written documents, though, indeed, it is to be lamented that the books containing a comprehensive history of this nation have been destroyed intentionally by the Fúlbe, or Féllani, since the conquest of the country, in order to annihilate, as far as possible, the national records.

The dynasty founded by Komáyo comprised four kings in succession, besides its founder, namely, Rámba, Téryau, Jerinnáta, and Sanáwu. Sanáwu, after a reign of thirty years, is said to have been killed by Koráwu, who came from a place named Yendútu, and founded a new dynasty (if we count backwards from the time of Ibrahím Máji) about the year 722 of the Hejra; but, of course, I do not pretend to any exactness in these dates. Whether Ibrahím Máji belonged to the same dynasty which Koráwu had founded, I am not able to say. About thirty years before the time of Ibrahím Máji, in the year 919 A.H., or 1513 A.D., occurred that eventful expedition of the great Sónghay king Háj Mohammed Áskiá which threw all these countries into the greatest confusion. According to Leo, at that time Kátsena acknowledged the supremacy of Kanó, having been subjected for only a short time to the sway of the King of Sónghay, and afterwards most probably to that of the energetic and successful King of Kébbi, who repulsed the great Áskiá. Kátsena must have fallen very soon under the supremacy of the empire of Bórnu. About fifty years after the beginning of the reign of the first Moslim king, a new dynasty commenced, that of the Hábe,[23] which, as it is unanimously stated to have ruled for a hundred and sixty-nine years, and as it was driven out by the Fúlbe in the year of the Hejra 1222, must have commenced about the year 1053 (A.D. 1643). In this latter dynasty, however, there seem to have been two factions (or families), which are noticed already in the preceding dynasty, one of which was called Chagarána, and the other Káryaghíwá.[24] But before speaking of the struggle between the Fúlbe and the Hábe, I shall say a few words about the town of Kátsena.

The town, probably, did not receive the name of the province till it had become large and predominant; which event, if Leo be correct, we must conclude did not happen much before the middle of the sixteenth century of our era, while in early times some separate villages probably occupied the site where, at a later period, the immense town spread out. The oldest of these villages is said to have been Ambutéy or Mbutéy, where we must presume Komáyo and his successors to have resided. After Gógó had been conquered by Muláy Hámed, the Emperor of Morocco, and, from a large and industrious capital, had become a provincial town, great part of the commerce which formerly centred there must have been transferred to Kátsena, although this latter place seems never to have had any considerable trade in gold, which formed the staple of the market of Gógó. Thus the town went on increasing to that enormous size, the vestiges of which still exist at the present time, although the quarter actually inhabited, comprises but a small part of its extent.

The town, if only half of its immense area were ever tolerably well inhabited, must certainly have had a population of at least a hundred thousand souls; for its circuit is between thirteen and fourteen English miles. At present, when the inhabited quarter is reduced to the north-western part, and when even this is mostly deserted, there are scarcely seven or eight thousand people living in it. In former times it was the residence of a prince, who, though he seems never to have attained to any remarkable degree of power, and was indeed almost always in some degree dependent on, or a vassal of, the King of Bórnu, nevertheless was one of the most wealthy and conspicuous rulers of Negroland.[25] Every prince at his accession to the throne had to forward a sort of tribute or present to Birni Ghasréggomo, the capital of the Bórnu empire, consisting of one hundred slaves, as a token of his obedience; but this being done, it does not appear that his sovereign rights were in any way interfered with. In fact Kátsena, during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries of our era, seems to have been the chief city of this part of Negroland, as well in commercial and political importance as in other respects; for here that state of civilization which had been called forth by contact with the Arabs seems to have reached its highest degree, and as the Háusa language here attained the greatest richness of form and the most refined pronunciation, so also the manners of Kátsena were distinguished by superior politeness from those of the other towns of Háusa.

But this state of things was wholly changed, when, in the very beginning of the present century, in the year 1222 of the Hejra, or 1807 of our era, the Fúlbe, called Féllani by the Háusa, and Felláta by the Bórnu people, raised to the highest pitch of fanaticism by the preaching of the Reformer or Jihádi ʿOthmán dan Fódiye, and formed into the religious and political association of the Jemmáʿa, or, as they pronounce it, Jemmára, succeeded in possessing themselves of this town. However, while Kanó fell ingloriously, and almost without resistance, into the hands of Slimán (the Háusa king el Wáli having escaped to Zária), the struggle for Kátsena was protracted and sanguinary. Indeed Mʿallem Ghomáro had carried on unrelenting war against the town for seven years, before he at length reduced it by famine; and the distress in the town is said to have been so great that a dead “ángulú” or vulture (impure food which nobody would touch in time of peace) sold for five hundred kurdí, and a kadángeré or lizard for fifty. But the struggle did not cease here; for the “Hábe” succeeded once more in expelling the conquerors from the town, without, however, being able to maintain their position, when Mʿallem Ghomáro returned with a fresh army. Five princes of Kátsena, one after the other, fell in this struggle for religious and national independence; and the Púllo general was not quite secure of his conquest till after the total destruction of the town of Dánkama, when Mágajin Háddedu was slain only four months after his predecessor Mahamúdu had succumbed in Sabóngarí. Even then the new Háusa prince Benóni, who still bore the title of “serkí-n-Kátsena,” did not lay down his arms, but maintained the contest till he likewise was conquered and slain in Túntuma.

From this time the town declined rapidly, and all the principal foreign merchants migrated to Kanó, where they were beyond the reach of this constant struggle; and even the Ásbenáwa transferred their salt-market to the latter place, which now became the emporium of this part of Negroland, while Kátsena retained but secondary importance as the seat of a governor. This is indeed to be lamented, as the situation of the town is excellent, and, both on account of its position to the various routes and of its greater salubrity, is far preferable to Kanó. However, as matters stand, unless either the Fúlbe succeed in crushing entirely the independent provinces to the north and north-west (which, in the present weak state of the empire of Sókoto, is far from probable), or till the Goberáwa and Mariadáwa, whose king still bears the title of serkí-n-Kátsena, reconquer this town, it will continue to decline and become more desolate every year. In fact Mohammed Béllo, the present governor, had conceived the design of giving up this immense town altogether, and of founding a new residence of smaller compass in its neighbourhood; but his liege lord, Alíyu, the Emír el Múmenín, would not allow him to do so.

The only inhabited part of the town at present is the north-west quarter, although any one who should omit to take into account the population scattered over the other parts, principally round about the residence of the governor, and the people settled in the hamlets near the gates, would make a great mistake. Here it may be added, that most of the importance which Kátsena has still preserved, in a commercial aspect, is due to its position with respect to Núpe, with which it keeps up a tolerably lively intercourse, the route from it to that industrious but most unfortunate country being practicable even for camels, while the road from Kanó can only be travelled with horses and asses. Almost all the more considerable native merchants in Kátsena are Wangaráwa (Eastern Mandingoes).

The province of Kátsena was formerly far more extensive than it is at present, but it has been curtailed, in order not to leave its governor too much inducement to make himself independent. Besides, many parts of it, being much exposed to the continual incursions of the independent Háusáwa, have greatly suffered, so that probably the population of the whole province does not now exceed three hundred thousand souls, of whom only about one-half seem to pay tribute. Every head of a family has to pay here two thousand five hundred kurdí-n-kassa, or ground-rent, and the whole of the kurdí-n-kassa of the province is estimated by those best acquainted with the affairs of the country at from twenty to thirty millions; a tax of five hundred kurdí is levied also on every slave. The military force of the province consists of two thousand horsemen, and about eight thousand men on foot, most of them archers. Altogether the province of Kátsena is one of the finest parts of Negroland, and being situated just at the water-parting between the basin of the Tsád and that of the Kwára, at a general elevation of from twelve hundred to fifteen hundred feet, it enjoys the advantage of being at once well watered and well drained, the chains of hills which diversify its surface sending down numerous rapid streams, so that it is less insalubrious than other regions of this continent. Its productions are varied and rich, though its elevated situation seems unfavourable to the growth of cotton. But, on the other side, useful trees seem to be more numerous in this district than in any other under the same latitude; and the áyaba or banana, and the gónda or papaya, are found in many favoured spots, while the dorówa or Parkia, the tsámia or tamarind, and the kadeña, or the Shea butter-tree (Bassia Parkii), are the most common trees everywhere, and very often form thick clusters.

Thursday, Jan. 30.—I was extremely glad when, after a long delay—for we had been obliged to wait more than an hour for the poor nag presented to me by the governor,—we reached the south-eastern gate of the town, the “kófa-n-Káura.” It was as if I had just escaped from a prison, and I drew my breath deeply as I inhaled the fresh air outside the wall. I should have carried with me a very unfavourable impression of Kátsena, if it had not been my destiny to visit this place again under more favourable circumstances; and I should have obtained a very false idea of the character of the Fúlbe, if, from the little experience which I had acquired in this place, I had formed a definitive judgment of them.

On the southern side of the town there is at present no cultivated ground; but the whole country is in a wild state, covered with brushwood. What we saw also of the traffic on the path seemed to be not of a very peaceable kind; for we met nothing but armed foot and horsemen hastening to Kátsena on the news of the expedition in course of preparation by the people of Marádi. But further on, the aspect of the country became a little more peaceful; and after a march of three miles we passed a well, where the women from a neighbouring village were offering for sale the common vegetables of the country, such as gowáza or yams, dánkali or sweet potatoes, kúka, the leaves of the monkey bread-tree, dodówa or the vegetable cakes mentioned above, ground nuts, beans, and sour milk. Nevertheless the whole country, with its few fortified villages, its little cultivation, and the thick forests which separated the villages one from another, left the impression of a very unsettled and precarious existence. I observed that brushwood, where it is not interrupted by larger trees, is always a proof of cultivation having been carried on at no distant period. In the midst of a wild thicket, which deranged all my things, we met a long warlike-train of several hundred horsemen, who perhaps might have incommoded us on the narrow path, if the strange appearance of my luggage had not so frightened the horses, that they rather chose to carry their riders through the very thickest of the covert than to fall in with us. Dúm-palms now began to appear; and beyond the considerable village Bay, cultivation became more extensive. Besides the fan-palm, the dumma and kaña, and the immense monkey bread-tree, with its colossal (now leafless) branches, from which the long heavy “kauchi” were hanging down on slender mouse-tail stalks, were the prevalent trees.

By degrees the country became more beautiful and cheerful, exhibiting a character of repose and ease which is entirely wanting in the northern parts of the province; separate comfortable dwellings of cattle-breeding Féllani were spread about, and the cornfields were carefully fenced and well kept. I was greatly astonished when Gajére with a certain feeling of national pride, pointed out to me here the extensive property of Sídi Ghálli el Háj Ánnur, the man whom I had occasion, in my description of Agades, to mention amongst the most respectable people of that town. It is astonishing how much property is held in these fertile regions by the Tuarek of Asben; and to what consequences this may eventually lead, everybody will easily conjecture.

A little before four o’clock in the afternoon we encamped close to a village called Shibdáwa, the celebrated town of Dáura being distant two days’ march.

Friday, Jan. 31.—It was a most beautiful morning; and I indulged in the feeling of unbounded liberty, and in the tranquil enjoyment of the beautiful aspect of God’s creation. The country through which we passed on leaving Shibdáwa, formed one of the finest landscapes I ever saw in my life. The ground was pleasantly undulating, covered with a profusion of herbage not yet entirely dried up by the sun’s power; the trees, belonging to a great variety of species, were not thrown together into an impenetrable thicket of the forest, but formed into beautiful groups, exhibiting all the advantage of light and shade. There was the kaña, with its rich dark-tinged foliage; the kadeña, or butter-tree, which I here saw for the first time, exhibiting the freshest and most beautiful green; then the marké, more airy, and sending out its branches in more irregular shape, with light groups of foliage; young tamarind-trees rounding off their thick crown of foliage till it resembled an artificial canopy spread out for the traveller to repose in its shade, besides the gámji, the shéria, the sokútso, the turáwa, and many other species of trees unknown to me; while above them all, tall and slender górebas unfolded their fan-crowns, just as if to protect the eye of the delighted wanderer from the rays of the morning sun, and to allow him to gaze undisturbed on the enchanting scenery around. Near the village Káshi even the gónda-tree, or Carica Papaya, which is so rarely seen in these quarters, enlivened the scenery. The densely luxuriant groves seemed to be the abode only of the feathered tribe, birds of numberless variety playing and warbling about in the full enjoyment of their liberty, while the “serdi,” a large bird with beautiful plumage of a light-blue colour, especially attracted my attention. Now and then a herd of cattle was seen dispersed over the rich pasturage grounds, all of white colour, and the bulls provided with a large fat hump or “tózo” hanging down on one side. But in this delightful spectacle objects of destruction also were not wanting, the poisonous plant “túmnia” starting forth everywhere. Cotton and karásia fields interrupted the parklike scenery; and near Kámri, a small place surrounded with a low clay wall, we were delighted with the view of a green patch of low ground laid out into beds, and with the help of a number of drawbeams, “khattatír,” or “lámbuna,” producing wheat and onions. This ground too is only worked with the gélma and the fertáña or small hoe.

Granite rock was protruding in several places; and a little after midday we had a detached range of hills on our right stretching east and west. Soon afterwards, near the village Temma, we passed a small market-place consisting of about eight sheds, and shaded by a number of wide-spreading tamarind-trees, where I was astonished at the number of cattle and horses assembled, but heard on inquiry that they were not intended for sale. Further on, after we had passed the fields of Gógó, plenty of cattle and goats were seen browsing everywhere about. All the cattle were of a white, and all the goats of a coffee-brown colour. Having passed the encampment of the Tin-néggaru or Kél-néggaru, and crossed a dale fringed with small fresh patches of wheat, which were watered by way of the said “lámbuna” from wells in the hollow, we encamped a quarter before four o’clock close to the fence of the village Bógo; for the whole country swarms with thieves, and great caution is necessary at night: the Tin-néggaru last night killed a thief who was attempting to carry off a loaf of salt.

Saturday, Feb. 1.—After a march of about two miles and a half over clayey ground greatly broken up by the rains, we reached the north-west corner of the considerable town Kusáda, and continued along its western wall, where a group of very tall and majestic rimis (Bombax or Eriodendron Guineense), though at present leafless, formed a most conspicuous object. It is very singular and highly characteristic, that this tree (the bentang-tree of Mungo Park) generally grows near the principal gate of the large towns in Háusa, while otherwise it is not frequent, at least not the large full-grown specimens; and it is not improbable that the natives purposely planted them in those places as a kind of waymark—or perhaps it may be a remnant of their pagan customs, this tree being deemed holy by several pagan tribes. It is almost incredible at what an immense distance these stupendous trees, the tallest of the vegetable kingdom, may be seen.

Kusáda is a town of importance, and is very little less than Gazáwa, though not so thickly inhabited; the wall of the town is in tolerably good repair, and the interior is rich in trees, making it look very cheerful and comfortable. Most of the huts consist of clay walls, with a thatched roof, which is certainly the mode of architecture best adapted to the climate and the whole nature of the country.

When leaving the south side of this town we were joined by a troop of women very heavily laden, each carrying upon the head from six to ten enormous calabashes filled with various articles: but they did not prove to be agreeable company; for not being able to walk steadily for any length of time with their loads, they stopped every few minutes, and then went on at a running pace, till they were obliged again to halt, so that they came frequently into collision either with my camel or with the bullock. It is really incredible what loads the native women of Negroland can carry on their heads, but I think no other tribe is equal in this respect to the Tápua or Nyffáwa. The country through which we had to pass along for the first two miles was overgrown with underwood, and much broken up by the rains, till we reached the stubble-fields of Kaférda, where my attention was attracted again by a few scattered specimens of the gigiña, or deléb-palm, which, in these districts, seems to be extremely rare. Descending then a little, the country assumed once more that delightful parklike appearance which had so charmed me the previous day; and the variety of the vegetation was extraordinary,—góreba, jéja, gámji, rími, and dóka being the principal trees.

The industry of the natives was also well represented; for soon after we had met a troop of men carrying home loads of indigo-plants, in order to prepare them in their simple way, we passed over extensive tobacco-fields, which had very nearly reached maturity. Rich aromatic bushes were growing everywhere in the fields, affording most nourishing food for bees, for which purpose hives, formed of thick hollow logs, were fastened to the branches of the colossal kúka-trees. We here passed a most curious specimen of vegetable intercourse in the thorough intermixture of a gigiña with another tree. In the course of my travels my attention was drawn to the interesting attraction which exists between the tamarind-tree and the kúka, both of which trees I very often found linked together in the closest embraces. This district was greatly enlivened also by a rich variety of the feathered tribe, but the beautiful serdi was not seen; the káló and the tsírna now taking its place.

A quarter of an hour after noon we passed the considerable place Dan-Sábua, defended only by a stockade, and, with the exception of a small market-place, giving very little proof of any kind of industry existing among its inhabitants. When I passed the place three years later, it even seemed almost deserted. About two miles further on we passed a small round hill covered with underwood up to its very summit, and remarkable enough for being taken as a boundary mark between the provinces of Kátsena and Kanó; in 1854, however, the frontier was carried further north-west, near Kaférda. We encamped early in the afternoon near the village Gúrzo, separated from it only by a dell laid out in small garden-fields with wheat and onions, and obtained a good supply of the latter, but nothing else. In the night a thief almost succeeded in carrying off some of our luggage, but had to run very hard for his life.

Early the next morning we started with an enthusiastic impulse, in order to reach before night the celebrated emporium of Central Negroland. Kanó, indeed, is a name which excites enthusiasm in every traveller in these regions, from whatever quarter he may come, but principally if he arrives from the north. We thus started in the twilight, passing in the bush some herds of cattle remaining out in the pasture-grounds, and meeting several troops of travellers, which made us fancy the capital to be nearer than it really was. We listened to the tales of our comely and cheerful companion, the “babá-n-báwa” of Tágelel, who detailed to us the wonders of this African London, Birmingham, and Manchester—the vastness of the town, the palace and retinue of the governor, the immense multitudes assembled every day in its marketplace, the splendour and richness of the merchandise exposed there for sale, the various delicacies of the table, the beauty and gracefulness of its ladies. At times my fiery Tunisian mulatto shouted out from mere anticipation of the pleasures which awaited him.

Keeping steadily along, we reached, after about five miles, the very considerable town of Béchi, the well-kept high clay walls of which started forth suddenly from a most luxuriant mass of vegetation, where we saw again the beautifully feathered serdi fluttering about from branch to branch.

The town is very remarkable, as exhibiting the peculiar circumstances of the social state in this country; for it belongs partly to the Tuarek tribe of the Itísan, whose búgaje or serfs—properly half-castes, born of free mothers, but slaves from the father’s side—live here, cultivating for their lords the fields around the town. Thus we see Tuarek everywhere, not only as occasional merchants, but even as settlers and proprietors. The town has but one gate; and a great many of the houses are of the kind described above. Beyond the town the country becomes less cultivated, and is mostly covered with the wild gónda-bush, which bears a most delicious fruit, richly deserving to be called the cream-apple. I suspected it for some time to be identical with the custard-apple; but I afterwards assured myself that it is not. I call the attention of every African traveller to this fruit, which affords the greatest relief after a long day’s journey; but it does not grow on the flat clayey plains of Bórnu proper.

Beyond the little market-place of Budúmme we met the first strings of empty camels belonging to the aïri with which we had been travelling. They were returning from Kanó, where they had carried the salt, in order to retrace their steps to good pasture-grounds, while their masters remained in the capital to sell their merchandise. The drivers confirmed the information we had already received, that our protector Elaíji had not as yet arrived in the town. For he likewise possesses a large property near Kazáure, whither he had gone after parting from me at Kátsena. The country again assumed a more cheerful character; we passed several villages, and even a máriná, or dyeing-place, and the path was well frequented. Almost all the people who met us saluted us most kindly and cheerfully; and I was particularly amused by the following form of salutation: “Bárka, sanú sanú; hm! hm!” “God bless you, gently, gently; how strange!” Only a few proud Féllani, very unlike their brethren in the west, passed us without a salute. The villages are here scattered about in the most agreeable and convenient way, as farming villages ought always to be, but which is practicable only in a country in a state of considerable security and tranquillity. All their names, therefore, are in the plural form, as Tarauráwa, Jimbedáwa, Bagadáwa. The idea of a great degree of industry was inspired by the sight of a máriná near Jimbedáwa, comprising as many as twenty dyeing-pots; and here also a little market was held by the women of the district. About half-past one in the afternoon we entered the rich district of Dáwano, which almost exclusively belongs to the wealthy Dan Mália, and is chiefly inhabited by Féllani. There was here a large market-place, consisting of several rows of well-built sheds, and frequented by numbers of people. A few market-women attached themselves to our little troop, giving us assurance that we should be able to reach the “bírni” to-day, but then added that we ought to arrive at the outer gate before sunset, as it is shut at that time.

We accordingly pressed on with our varied little caravan, consisting of a very lean black horse, covered with coarse wool-like hair, worth four dollars, or perhaps less; a mare, scarcely worth more in its present condition; a camel, my faithful Bú-Séfi, evidently the most respectable four-footed member of the troop, carrying a very awkward load, representing my whole travelling household, with writing-table and bedding-boards; a sumpter-ox, heavily laden; then the four human bipeds to match, viz. one half-barbarized European, one half-civilized Góberáwi Tunisian mulatto, a young lean Tébu lad, and my stout, sturdy, and grave overseer from Tágelel. As we then entered some fields of sesamum, or “nóme” (quite a new sight for me in this country, but which was soon to become of very common occurrence), Gajére descried in the distance between the trees the top of the hill Dála, and we all strained our eyes to get a first glimpse of this hill, which is the real landmark of Kanó.

The country hereabouts exhibited a new feature, some of the fields being enclosed with a bush which I had not seen before, and which was called by my intelligent guide “fidde serewukka.” In Múniyo, where I afterwards saw it used for the same purpose, it is called “mágara.” It is a kind of broom, growing to the height of ten or twelve feet, and has a milky juice, which is slightly poisonous, but by some people is employed as a cure for wounds caused by thorns. A little while afterwards we saw the first single date-palm, a tree also most characteristic of Kanó; and now, the country becoming clear, we obtained a full sight of both the hills, Dalá and Kógo-n-dútsi, which rise from the flat level of the plain; but nothing was as yet visible of the town, and we had but faint hopes of reaching it before sunset. However, we went on, though a little disheartened, as we had some foreboding that we should incur the displeasure of the governor; and passing through the gate, in front of which part of the aïri were encamped, without stopping, as if we were natives of the country, went on across open fields. It took us forty minutes to reach the house of Báwu from the gate, though this lies near the very outskirts of Dalá, the northernmost quarter of the town. It was quite dark, and we had some trouble in taking possession of the quarters assigned to us by our host.

Kanó had been sounding in my ears now for more than a year; it had been one of the great objects of our journey as the central point of commerce, as a great storehouse of information, and as the point whence more distant regions might be most successfully attempted. At length, after nearly a year’s exertions, I had reached it.

---

Kanó for us was a station of importance not only from a scientific, but also from an economical point of view. Instead of being provided with ready cash, we had received in Múrzuk, on account of the British Government, merchandise which, we had been assured, would not only be safer than money, but would also prove more advantageous for us. In consequence of the heavy extortions to which we were subjected on the road to Aír, and of our long delay in that country, we had been deprived of the small articles which we carried for barter, so that we were entirely thrown upon the merchandise which we had forwarded in advance from Tintéggana; and I for my part, on my arrival in Kanó, had to liquidate a debt of not less than 112,300 kurdí: viz. 55,000 for the carriage of this very merchandise from Tintéggana to Kanó; 8,300 as my share of the presents or passage-money given on the road; 18,000 to Gajére, as hire for the mare and bullock; and 31,000 to a man of the name of Háj el Dáwaki, on account of Abú-Bakr el Wákhshi, for the articles bought from him in Kátsena, in order to satisfy the governor of that place. Besides, I was aware that I had to make a considerable present to the governor of Kanó; and I was most desirous to discharge Mohammed eʾ Túnsi, whom I had discovered to be utterly useless in these countries, and who, besides his insupportable insolence, might bring me into trouble by his inconsiderate and frivolous conduct.

These were material calls upon my encumbered property. On my mind, too, there were claims of a not less serious character; for from my very outset from Europe, I had steadily fixed my eyes upon that eastern branch of the Kwára, or so-called Niger, which Laird, Allen, and Oldfield had navigated for the distance of some eighty miles, and which the former (although he himself did not penetrate further than Fánda) had, with reasons decisive in my eyes, and which could not be overthrown in my opinion by Captain William Allen’s ingenious but fanciful hypothesis, concluded to have no communication whatever with Lake Tsád, but to proceed from another and very different quarter.[26]

I had therefore cherished the hope, that I should be capable of penetrating from Kanó in the direction of Ádamáwa, a country wherein I was sure that the question respecting the course of the river would be decided; but obviously such an undertaking could not be engaged in without pecuniary means, and all therefore depended on my success in selling advantageously the merchandise with which I was provided.

For all these reasons, nothing could be more disagreeable and disheartening to me, though I was not quite unprepared for it, than the information which I received the very evening of my arrival in Kanó, that the price of merchandise such as I had was very low. In the next place, I soon found that Báwu, Mr. Gagliuffi’s agent, whom in compliance with his recommendation we had made also our commissioner, was not to be implicitly relied on. He was the second son of Háj Hát Sáleh, the man so well known from the narrative of Captain Clapperton, towards whom he seems to have behaved with honesty and fairness, and by this means perhaps he had recommended himself to Mr. Gagliuffi; but Báwu was not the right man to be entrusted with discretionary power over the property of a foreign merchant residing at a great distance, and belonging even to another religion, or to be the commissioner for European travellers. Young and ambitious as he was, he had no other object but to insinuate himself into the good graces of the governor at the expense of those who had been foolish enough to trust themselves into his hands. Besides, he had upon his hand a host of younger brothers, who all wanted to “eat.” Though Háj Hát Sáleh seems to have been a respectable man, he must have paid very little attention to the education of his children.

It will scarcely be believed that this man, although he had two camel-loads of goods of mine in his hands, yet left me without a single shell, “ko urí gudá,” for a whole fortnight, so that I was glad to borrow two thousand kurdí—less than an Austrian dollar, from Mohammed eʾ Sfáksi, in order to defray the most necessary expenses of my household.

Besides, this agent urged the absolute necessity of making a considerable present not only to the governor, which I was quite prepared to do, but another of nearly the same value to the ghaladíma or first minister, who happened to be the governor’s brother, and enjoyed quite as much authority and influence. The consequence was that I was obliged to give away the few articles of value in my possession merely for being tolerated and protected. The second day after my arrival, the governor received a message from Mr. Richardson, forwarded from Zínder, intimating that, after he should have received new supplies from the coast, he would not fail to come to Kanó; whereupon he sent me word that I had done very wrong to enter his town without giving him previous information, whereas my countryman had already forwarded a notice that at some future period he was likely to pay him a visit. Besides concluding, from the fact that I was not mentioned at all in that letter, that I was travelling on my own account, he made also greater pretensions with regard to a present.

Being lodged in dark, uncomfortable, and cheerless quarters, which I was forbidden to leave before the governor had seen me, destitute of a single farthing in cash, while I was daily called upon and pestered by my numerous creditors, and laughed at on account of my poverty by an insolent servant, my readers may fancy that my situation in the great far-famed entrepôt of Central Africa, the name of which had excited my imagination for so long a time, was far from agreeable. Partly from anxiety, partly from want of exercise, in the course of a few days I had a very severe attack of fever, which reduced me to a state of great weakness. Fortunately, however, I mustered sufficient strength to avail myself of a summons which called me at length into the presence of the governor, on the 18th of February; and by sacrificing what few things remained to me, I paved the road for my further proceedings, while the degree of exertion which was necessary to undergo the fatigue of the visit carried me over my weakness, and restored me gradually to health. The distances in Kanó, though less than those of London, are very great; and the ceremonies to be gone through are scarcely less tedious than those at any European court.

Clothing myself as warmly as possible in my Tunisian dress, and wearing over it a white tobe and a white bernús, I mounted my poor black nag, and followed my three mediators and advocates. These were Báwu, Elaíji, and Sídi ʿAlí. Elaíji had arrived three days after me from his estate, and had continued to show me the same disinterested friendship which I had experienced from him before. Sídi ʿAlí was the son of Mohammed, the former Sultan of Fezzán, and last of the Welád Mohammed, who was killed by Mukni, the father of Yusuf, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter.

This man, whom it would have been far better for us to have employed as our agent from the beginning, had testified his interest in my welfare by sending me a fat ram as a present, and now accompanied me most kindly, in order to exert his influence in my behalf with the governor. On my second visit to Kanó, on my return from Timbúktu in the latter part of 1854, when I was still more destitute than in 1851, I placed myself directly under his protection, and made him my agent at the moment when the state of my affairs rendered considerable credit desirable.

It was a very fine morning; and the whole scenery of the town in its great variety of clay houses, huts, sheds, green open places affording pasture for oxen, horses, camels, donkeys, and goats, in motley confusion, deep hollows containing ponds overgrown with the water-plant the Pistia stratiotes, or pits freshly dug up in order to form the material for some new buildings, various and most beautiful specimens of the vegetable kingdom, particularly the fine symmetric gónda or papaya, the slender date-palm, the spreading alléluba, and the majestic rími or silk cotton-tree (Bombax)—the people in all varieties of costume, from the naked slave up to the most gaudily dressed Arab,—all formed a most animated and exciting scene. As far as the market-place I had already proceeded on foot; but Báwu, as soon as he saw me, had hurried me back to my lodgings, as having not yet been formally received by the governor. But no one on foot can get a correct idea of an African town, confined as he is on every side by the fences and walls, while on horseback he obtains an insight into all the courtyards, becomes an eye-witness of scenes of private life, and often with one glance surveys a whole town.

Passing through the market-place, which had only begun to collect its crowds, and crossing the narrow neck of land which divides the characteristic pool “Jákara,” we entered the quarters of the ruling race, the Fúlbe or Féllani, where conical huts of thatchwork, and the gónda-tree, are prevalent, and where most beautiful and lively pictures of nature meet the eye on all sides. Thus we proceeded, first to the house of the gadó (the Lord of the Treasury), who had already called several times at my house, and acted as the mediator between me and the governor.

His house was a most interesting specimen of the domestic arrangements of the Fúlbe, who, however civilized they may have become, do not disown their original character as “berroróji,” or nomadic cattle-breeders. His courtyard, though in the middle of the town, looked like a farmyard, and could not be conscientiously commended for its cleanliness. Having with difficulty found a small spot to sit down upon without much danger of soiling our clothes, we had to wait patiently till his Excellency had examined and approved of the presents. Having manifested his satisfaction with them by appropriating to himself a very handsome large gilt cup, which with great risk I had carried safely through the desert, he accompanied us on horseback to the “fáda,” “lamórde,” or palace, which forms a real labyrinth of courtyards, provided with spacious round huts of audience, built of clay, with a door on each side, and connected together by narrow intricate passages. Hundreds of lazy, arrogant courtiers, freemen and slaves, were lounging and idling here, killing time with trivial and saucy jokes.

We were first conducted to the audience-hall of the ghaladíma, who, while living in a separate palace, visits the “fáda” almost every day, in order to act in his important and influential office as vizier; for he is far more intelligent, and also somewhat more energetic, than his lazy and indolent brother ʿOthmán, who allows this excessively wealthy and most beautiful province, “the garden of Central Africa,” to be ransacked with impunity by the predatory incursions of the serkí Ibrám of Zínder, and other petty chiefs. Both are sons of Dábo and Shékara—the latter one of the celebrated ladies of Háusa, a native of Dáura, who is still living, and has three other children, viz. a son (Makhmúd) and two daughters, one of them named Fátima Záhar, and the other Sáretu. The governor was then eight and thirty, the ghaladíma seven and thirty years of age. They were both stout and handsome men, the governor rather too stout and clumsy. Their apartments were so excessively dark that, coming from a sunny place, it was some time before I could distinguish anybody. The governor’s hall was very handsome, and even stately for this country, and was the more imposing as the rafters supporting the very elevated ceiling were concealed, two lofty arches of clay, very neatly polished and ornamented, appearing to support the whole. At the bottom of the apartment were two spacious and highly decorated niches, in one of which the governor was reposing on a “gadó,” spread with a carpet. His dress was not that of a simple Púllo, but consisted of all the mixed finery of Háusa and Barbary; he allowed his face to be seen, the white shawl hanging down far below his mouth over his breast.

In both audiences (as well that with the ghaladíma as with the governor) old Elaíji was the speaker, beginning his speech with a captatio benevolentiæ, founded on the heavy and numerous losses sustained on the road by me and my companions. Altogether he performed his office very well, with the exception that he dwelt longer than was necessary on Overweg’s journey to Marádi, which certainly could not be a very agreeable topic to a ba-Féllanchi. Sídi ʿAlí also displayed his eloquence in a very fair way. The ghaladíma made some intelligent observations, while the governor only observed that, though I had suffered so severely from extortion, yet I seemed to have still ample presents for him. Nor was he far wrong; for the black “kabá” (a sort of bernús, with silk and gold lace, which I gave him) was a very handsome garment, and here worth sixty thousand kurdí: besides, he got a red cap, a white shawl with red border, a piece of white muslin, rose oil, one pound of cloves, and another of jáwi or benzoin, razor, scissors, an English clasp-knife, and a large mirror of German silver. The ghaladíma got the same presents, except that, instead of the kabá, I gave him a piece of French striped silk worth fifty thousand kurdí.

However, our audience did not go off so fast as I relate it, for, after being dismissed by the ghaladíma, we were obliged to wait full two hours before we could see the governor; yet although we returned to our quarters during the very hottest hour of the day, I felt much better, and in the evening was able to finish a whole chicken, and to enjoy a cup of Cyprian wine, for which I felt very grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Crowe, who had supplied me with this cheering luxury.

Having now at length made my peace with the governor, and seeing that exercise of body and recreation of mind were the best medicines I could resort to, I mounted on horseback the next day again, and, guided by a lad well acquainted with the topography of the town, rode for several hours round all the inhabited quarters, enjoying at my leisure, from the saddle, the manifold scenes of public and private life, of comfort and happiness, of luxury and misery, of activity and laziness, of industry and indolence, which were exhibited in the streets, the market-places, and in the interior of the courtyards. It was the most animated picture of a little world in itself, so different in external form from all that is seen in European towns, yet so similar in its internal principles.

Here a row of shops filled with articles of native and foreign produce, with buyers and sellers in every variety of figure, complexion, and dress, yet all intent upon their little gain, endeavouring to cheat each other; there a large shed, like a hurdle, full of half-naked, half-starved slaves torn from their native homes, from their wives or husbands, from their children or parents, arranged in rows like cattle, and staring desperately upon the buyers, anxiously watching into whose hands it should be their destiny to fall. In another part were to be seen all the necessaries of life, the wealthy buying the most palatable things for his table, the poor stopping and looking greedily upon a handful of grain; here a rich governor dressed in silk and gaudy clothes, mounted upon a spirited and richly caparisoned horse, and followed by a host of idle, insolent slaves; there a poor blind man groping his way through the multitude, and fearing at every step to be trodden down; here a yard neatly fenced with mats of reed, and provided with all the comforts which the country affords—a clean, snug-looking cottage, the clay walls nicely polished, a shutter of reeds placed against the low, well-rounded door, and forbidding intrusion on the privacy of life, a cool shed for the daily household work,—a fine spreading alléluba-tree, affording a pleasant shade during the hottest hours of the day, or a beautiful gónda or papaya unfolding its large feather-like leaves above a slender, smooth, and undivided stem, or the tall date-tree, waving over the whole scene; the matron in a clean black cotton gown wound round her waist, her hair neatly dressed in “chókoli” or bejáji, busy preparing the meal for her absent husband, or spinning cotton, and at the same time urging the female slaves to pound the corn; the children naked and merry, playing about in the sand at the “urgi-n-dáwaki” or the “da-n-chácha,” or chasing a straggling stubborn goat; earthenware pots and wooden bowls, all cleanly washed, standing in order. Further on a dashing Cyprian, homeless, comfortless, and childless, but affecting merriment or forcing a wanton laugh, gaudily ornamented with numerous strings of beads around her neck, her hair fancifully dressed and bound with a diadem, her gown of various colours loosely fastened under her luxuriant breast, and trailing behind in the sand; near her a diseased wretch covered with ulcers, or with elephantiasis.

Now a busy “máriná,” an open terrace of clay, with a number of dyeing-pots, and people busily employed in various processes of their handicraft; here a man stirring the juice, and mixing with the indigo some colouring wood in order to give it the desired tint; there another, drawing a shirt from the dye-pot, or hanging it upon a rope fastened to the trees; there two men beating a well-dyed shirt, singing the while, and keeping good time; further on, a blacksmith busy with his rude tools in making a dagger which will surprise, by the sharpness of its blade, those who feel disposed to laugh at the workman’s instruments, a formidable barbed spear, or the more estimable and useful instruments of husbandry; in another place, men and women making use of an ill-frequented thoroughfare, as a “kaudi tseggenábe,” to hang up, along the fences, their cotton thread for weaving; close by, a group of indolent loiterers lying in the sun and idling away their hours.

Here a caravan from Gónja arriving with the desired kola-nut, chewed by all who have “ten kurdí” to spare from their necessary wants, or a caravan laden with natron, starting for Núpe, or a troop of Asbenáwa going off with their salt for the neighbouring towns, or some Arabs leading their camels, heavily laden with the luxuries of the north and east (the “káya-n-ghábbes”) to the quarter of the Ghadamsíye; there, a troop of gaudy, warlike-looking horsemen galloping towards the palace of the governor to bring him the news of a new inroad of serkí Ibrám. Everywhere human life in its varied forms, the most cheerful and the most gloomy, seem closely mixed together; every variety of national form and complexion—the olive-coloured Arab, the dark Kanúri, with his wide nostrils, the small-featured, light, and slender ba-Féllanchi, the broad-faced ba-Wángara (Mandingo), the stout, large-boned, and masculine-looking Núpe female, the well-proportioned and comely ba-Háushe woman.

Delighted with my trip, and deeply impressed by the many curious and interesting scenes which had presented themselves to my eyes, I returned by way of the “úngwa-n-makáfi,” or “belád el amiyán” (the village of the blind), to my quarters, the gloominess and cheerlessness of which made the more painful impression upon me from its contrast with the brightly animated picture which I had just before enjoyed. The next day I made another long ride through the town; and being tolerably well acquainted with the topography of the place and its different quarters, I enjoyed still more the charming view obtained from the top of the Dalá.

I had just descended from the eminence beneath which spread this glorious panorama, when I heard a well-known voice calling me by my name; it was ʿAbdallah the Tawáti, my friend and teacher in Ágades, who, after residing some time in Tasáwa, had come to try his fortune in this larger sphere of action. I had besides him some other acquaintances, who gave me much interesting information, particularly a young ba-Háushe lad of the name of Íbrahíma, who gave me the first tolerably correct idea of the road to Yóla, the capital of Adamáwa, although he was puzzled about the direction of the Great River, which he had crossed, supposing that it flowed eastward instead of westward. I derived also a great deal of information from a less agreeable man named Mohammed, with the surname “el Merábet” (reclaimed), rather antithetically, as “lucus à non lucendo,” for he was the most profligate drunkard imaginable, and eventually remained indebted to me for several thousand cowries.

I was much worried during my stay in Kanó by a son of the governor of Zária, who, suffering dreadfully from stricture or some other obstruction, had come expressly to Kanó in the hope of being relieved by me; and it was impossible for me to convince him that I had neither the knowledge nor the instruments necessary for effecting the cure of his disease. It would, no doubt, have been of great service if I had been able to cure him, as he was the son of one of the most powerful princes of Negroland; but as it was, I could only afford him a little temporary relief. My intercourse with this man was indeed most painful to me, as I felt conscious of entire inability to help him, while he conjured me, by all that was dear to me, not to give him up and abandon him. He died shortly afterwards. More agreeable to me was a visit from the eldest son of the governor of Kanó, who, accompanied by two horsemen, came to call upon me one day, and not finding me at home, traced me whither I had gone, and having met me, followed silently till I had re-entered my quarters. He was a handsome, modest, and intelligent youth of about eighteen years of age, and was delighted with the performance of my musical-box. I gave him an English clasp-knife, and we parted the best of friends, greatly pleased with each other.

I had considerable difficulty in arranging my pecuniary affairs, and felt really ashamed at being unable to pay my debt to the Háj el Dáwaki till after el Wákhshi himself had arrived from Kátsena. After having sold, with difficulty, all that I possessed, having suffered a very heavy loss by Báwu’s dishonesty, paid my debts, and arranged my business with Mohammed el Túnsi, who, suffering under a very severe attack of fever, wanted most eagerly to return home, I should scarcely have been able to make the necessary preparations for my journey to Bórnu if the governor had not assisted me a little. He had hitherto behaved very shabbily towards me, not a single dish, not a sheep or other token of his hospitality having been sent me during my stay in the town. I was therefore most agreeably surprised when, on the morning of the 2nd of March, old Elaíji came and announced to me that, in consequence of his urgent remonstrances, the governor had sent me a present of sixty thousand kurdí. He told me, with a sort of pride, that he had severely reprimanded him, assuring him that he was the only prince who had not honoured me. I should have been better pleased if the governor had sent me a pair of camels or a horse; but I was thankful for this unexpected supply, and giving six thousand to the officer who had brought the money, and as much to Elaíji, and dividing eight thousand between Báwu and Sídi ʿAlí, I kept forty thousand for myself.

With this present I was fortunately enabled to buy two camels instead of sumpter-oxen, which give great trouble on the road during the dry season, especially if not properly attended to, and prepared everything for my journey; but the people in these countries are all cowards, and as I was to go alone without a caravan, I was unable to find a good servant. Thus I had only my faithful Tébu lad Mohammed whom I could rely upon, having besides him none but a debauched young Fezzáni, Makhmúd, who had long lived in this town, and a youth named ʿAbdallah. Nevertheless I felt not a moment’s hesitation, but, on the contrary, impatiently awaited the moment when I should leave my dingy and melancholy quarters, full of mice and vermin.

I had hoped to get off on the 6th; but nothing was heard from the governor, and it would have been imprudent to start without his permission. With envious feelings I witnessed the departure of the natron caravan for Núpe or Nýffi, consisting of from two to three hundred asses. With it went Mohammed Ánnur, a very intelligent man, whom I had endeavoured by all possible means to hire as a servant, but could not muster shells enough. However, the exploration of all those more distant regions I was obliged in my present circumstances to give up, and to concentrate my whole energies on the effort to reach Kúkawa, where I had concerted with Mr. Richardson to arrive in the beginning of April. I had had the satisfaction of sending off a long report and several letters to Europe on the 1st of March (when the Ghadamsíye merchants despatched a courier to their native town), and felt therefore much easier with regard to my communication with Europe. My delay also had given me the great advantage of making the acquaintance of a man named Mohammed el ʿAnáya, from the Dʿara el Takhtaníye, to the south of Morocco, who first gave me some general information about the route from Timbúktu to Sókoto, which in the sequel was to become a new field for my researches and adventures.

I became so seriously ill on the 8th, that I looked forward with apprehension to my departure, which was fixed for the following day. But before leaving this important place, I will make a few general observations with regard to its history and its present state.

The town of Kanó, considered as the capital of a province, must be of somewhat older date than Kátsena, if we are to rely on Leo’s accuracy, though from other more reliable sources (which I shall bring to light in the chapter on the history of Bórnu) it is evident that even in the second half of the sixteenth century there could have been here only the fortress of Dalá, which, at that period, withstood the attacks of the Bórnu king. I think we are justified in supposing that, in this respect, Leo (when, after an interval of many years, he wrote the account of the countries of Negroland which he had visited) confounded Kanó with Kátsena. The strength of the Kanáwa, that is to say, the inhabitants of the province of Kanó, at the time of the Bórnu king Edrís Alawóma, is quite apparent from the report of his imám; but from that time forth the country seems to have been tributary to Bórnu; and the population of the town of Kanó is said, with good reason, to have consisted from the beginning mostly of Kanúri or Bórnu elements. However, the established allegiance or subjection of this province to Bórnu was evidently rather precarious, and could be maintained only with a strong hand; for there was a powerful neighbour, the King of Korórofa or Júku, ready to avail himself of every opportunity of extending his own power and dominion over that territory. We know also that one king of that country, whose name, however, I could not obtain, on the entry of a new governor into office in Kanó, made an expedition into that country, and installed his own representative in the place of that of Bórnu, and though the eastern provinces of Korórofa itself (I mean the district inhabited by the Koána or Kwána) became afterwards tributary to Bórnu, yet the main province (or Júku proper) with the capital Wukári, seems to have always remained strong and independent, till now, at length, it seems destined to be gradually swallowed up by the Fúlbe, if the English do not interfere. But to return to our subject. As long as Kátsena continued independent and flourishing, the town of Kanó appears never to have been an important commercial place; and it was not till after Kátsena had been occupied by the Fúlbe, and, owing to its exposed position on the northern frontier of Háusa, had become a very unsafe central point for commercial transactions, that Kanó became the great commercial entrepôt of Central Negroland. Before this time, that is to say, before the year 1807, I have strong reason to suppose that scarcely any great Arab merchant ever visited Kanó, a place which nevertheless continues till this very day to be identified with Ghána or Ghánata, a state or town expressly stated by Arab writers of the eleventh century to have been the rendezvous for Arab merchants from the very first rise of commercial connections with Negroland. And all regard to historical or geographical facts is put aside merely from an absurd identification of two entirely distinct names such as Kanó and Ghána or Ghánata.

As to the period when the Kánawa in general became Mohammedans, we may fairly assume it to have been several years later than the time when Máji, the prince of Kátsena, embraced Islám, or about the seventeenth century, though it is evident that the larger portion of the population all over Háusa, especially that of the country towns and villages, remained addicted to paganism till the fanatic zeal of their conquerors the Fúlbe forced them to profess Islám, at least publicly. Nevertheless even at the present day there is a great deal of paganism cherished, and rites really pagan performed, in the province of Kanó as well as in that of Kátsena,—a subject on which I shall say something more on another occasion.

With regard to the growth of the town, we have express testimony that Dalá was the most ancient quarter. The steep rocky hill, about 120 feet high, naturally afforded a secure retreat to the ancient inhabitants in case of sudden attack; but it is most probable that there was another or several separate villages within the wide expanse now encompassed by the wall, which rather exceeds than falls short of fifteen English miles, and it seems inconceivable why the other hill, “Kógo-n-dútsi” (which is enclosed within the circumference of the walls), though it is not quite so well fortified by nature, should not have afforded a strong site for another hamlet. We have, indeed, no means of describing the way in which the town gradually increased to its present size; this much, however, is evident, that the inhabited quarters never filled up the immense space comprised within the walls, though it is curious to observe that there are evident traces of a more ancient wall on the south side, which, as will be seen from the plan, did not describe so wide a circumference, particularly towards the south-west, where the great projecting angle seems to have been added in later times, for merely strategical purposes. The reason why the fortifications were carried to so much greater extent than the population of the town rendered necessary, was evidently to make the place capable of sustaining a long siege (sufficient ground being enclosed within the walls to produce the necessary supply of corn for the inhabitants), and also to receive the population of the open and unprotected villages in the neighbourhood. The inhabited quarter occupies at present only the south-eastern part of the town between Mount Dalá and the wall, which on this side is closely approached by the dwellings.

On the northern margin of the Jákara is the market-place, forming a large quadrangle, mostly consisting of sheds built in regular rows like streets; but the westernmost part of it forms the slaughtering-place, where numbers of cattle are daily butchered, causing an immense quantity of offal and filth to accumulate, for which there is no other outlet than the all-swallowing Jákara. It is the accumulation of this filth in the most frequented parts of the town which makes it so unhealthy. On the north-east side of the sheds is the camel-market, where also pack-oxen are sold. The shed where the slaves are sold is at the north-west corner; and thence, along the principal street, which traverses the market, is the station of the people who sell firewood. The market is generally immensely crowded during the heat of the day, and offers a most interesting scene.

The wall, just as it has been described by Captain Clapperton, is still kept in the best repair, and is an imposing piece of workmanship in this quarter of the world. This wall, with its gates, I have not been able to lay down with much exactness; but, from my observations on my later visit in 1854, being aware of the great inaccuracy of the little sketch of the town given by Clapperton, who himself pretends only to give an eye-sketch, I thought it worth while, with regard to a place like Kanó (which certainly will at some future period become important even for the commercial world of Europe), to survey and sketch it more minutely; and I hope my plan, together with the view taken from Mount Dalá of the southern and really inhabited quarter of the town, will give a tolerably correct idea of its character.

The market-place is necessarily much less frequented during the rainy season, when most of the people are busy with the labours of the field. A great part of the market-place during that time is even inundated by the waters of the pond Jákara.

I now proceed to enumerate the quarters, the names of which are not without their interest. I must first observe, that the quarters to the north of the great and characteristic pond Jákara, which intersects the town from east to west, are chiefly inhabited by Háusa people, or, as they are called by their conquerors, “Hábe,” from the singular “Kádo,” while the southern quarters are chiefly, but not at all exclusively, inhabited by the Fúlbe (sing. Púllo), called Féllani (sing. ba-Féllanchi) by the conquered race.

Beginning with Dalá, the oldest quarter of the town, and which in commercial respects is the most important one, as it is the residence of almost all the wealthy Arab and Berber (principally Ghadamsíye) merchants, I shall first proceed eastwards, then return by south to west, and so on. East-south-east, the quarter called Déndalin (the esplanade) borders on Dalá, then Kutumbáwa, Gérke, Mádabó, Ya-n-tándu, Adakáwa, Kóki, Zéta, Límanchí (or the quarter of the people of Tóto, a considerable town not far from Fánda); south from the latter, Yandówea, and thence, returning westward, Jibdji-n-Yél-labu, another Límanchí (with a large mosque), Masu-kiyáni (the quarter near the “kaswa” or market-place), Túddu-n-mákera (the quarter of the blacksmiths) on the west side of the market, Yámroché, “Marárraba bókoy” (the seven crossways), “Báki-n-rúa” (the waterside—that is, the quay along the Jákara, not very neat nor fragrant, and in this respect deserving to be compared, with the quays of the Thames, which may be called, just with the same reason, the great sink of London, as the Jákara is that of Kanó, the difference being only that the Thames is a running stream, while the Jákara is stagnant), “Runfáwa” (the quarter of the sheds), Yéllwá. Here, turning again eastwards, we come first to the quarter Ríma-n-jirájiré, then enter Mággoga, then Maggógi, Ungwa-n-kári, Déndali-n-Wáre, Límanchí (a third quarter of this name), Dukkuráwa, Rúffogí, Dérma. All these are quarters of the Hábe, where no Púllo, as far as I am aware, would deign to live. Beyond the Jákara we now come to the quarters of the ruling race, proceeding from west to east.

Yaálewa, Mármara, Ágadesáwa (a quarter belonging originally to the natives of Ágades), Yóla—the princely quarter of the town, and called on this account “mádaki-n-Kanó.” It is interesting also as having given its name to the new capital of Ádamáwa (the natives of Negroland being not less anxious than Europeans to familiarize the new regions which they colonize by names taken from their ancient homes); el Kántara (so called from a rough kind of bridge, or kadárko, thrown over one of those numerous pools which intersect the town), Wuaitákka, Go-shérifé-dodó (a quarter, the name of which is taken from the ancient pagan worship of the “dodó),” Tókobá, Dukkáwa, Zaghidámse, Sháfushí. Returning from east to west we have the quarters Shérbalé, Mádaté, Kúrna, Sheshé, “Dirmí (or dírremi)-kay okú” (called from a tree of the dírremi species, with three separate crowns), Lelóki-n-lemú, Kóllwá al héndeki, Sóra-n-dínki, Rími-n-kóro, Tojí, Yárkasá, Mándáwari, Mármara (different from the quarter mentioned above), Dantúrku, Sabansára, Kudedefáwa, Jingo, Doséyi, Warúre, Gʿao (an interesting name, identical with that of the capital of the Sónghay empire), Kurmáwa, Háusáwa, Ungwa Mákama, Ghaladánchi (the quarter wherein resides the ghaladíma), Shúramchí (the quarter where lives the eldest son of the governor, whose title chiróma—a Kanúri name—in the corrupted form of “shúromo” has furnished the name of the quarter), Ye-serkí, Kurmáwa (not identical with the above), “Kusseráwa” (the corner), Udeláwa. South from the palace of the governor, Rími-n-kerá, Káraká, Dugeráwa, Yákase, Naseráwa (most probably destined to be hereafter the quarter of the Nasára or Christians), and ʿAbdeláwa.

All over the town, clay houses and huts, with thatched conical roofs, are mixed together; but generally in the southern quarter the latter prevail. The clay houses, as far as I have seen them in Dalá, where of course Arab influence predominates, are built in a most uncomfortable style, with no other purpose than that of obtaining the greatest possible privacy for domestic life, without any attempt to provide for the influx of fresh air and light, although I must admit that a few houses are built in somewhat better taste; but invariably the courtyard is extremely small, and in this respect the houses of Kanó are very inferior to those of Ágades and Timbúktu, which are built almost on the same principle as the dwellings of the ancient Greeks and Romans. I here give the ground plan of the house in which I lodged in 1851.

Almost all these houses have also a very irregular upper story on a different level, and very badly aired. Many of the Arabs sleep on their terraces.

In estimating the population of the town at 30,000, I am certainly not above the truth. Captain Clapperton estimated it at from 30,000 to 40,000. The population, as might be expected in a place of great commercial resort, is of a rather mixed nature; but the chief elements in it are Kanúri or Bórnu people, Háusáwa, Fúlbe or Féllani, and Nyffáwa or Núpe; a good many Arabs also reside there, who by their commerce and their handicraft contribute a great deal to the importance of the place. The influx of foreigners and temporary residents is occasionally very great, so that the whole number of residents during the most busy time of the year (that is to say from January to April) may often amount to 60,000. The number of domestic slaves, of course, is very considerable; but I think it hardly equals, certainly does not exceed, that of the free men, for while the wealthy have many slaves, the poorer class, which is far more numerous, have few or none. It would be very interesting to arrive at an exact estimate of the numbers of the conquering nation, in order to see the proportion in which they stand to the conquered. As for the town itself, their whole number, of every sex and age, does not, in my opinion, exceed 4,000; but with regard to the whole country I can give no opinion.

The principal commerce of Kanó consists in native produce, namely, the cotton cloth woven and dyed here or in the neighbouring towns, in the form of tobes or rígona (sing. ríga); túrkedí, or the oblong pieces of dress of dark-blue colour worn by the women; the zénne[27] or plaid of various colours; and the ráwani bakí, or black lithám.

The great advantage of Kanó is, that commerce and manufactures go hand in hand, and that almost every family has its share in them. There is really something grand in this kind of industry, which spreads to the north as far as Múrzuk, Ghát, and even Tripoli; to the west, not only to Timbúktu, but in some degree even as far as the shores of the Atlantic, the very inhabitants of Arguin dressing in the cloth woven and dyed in Kanó; to the east, all over Bórnu, although there it comes in contact with the native industry of the country; and to the south it maintains a rivalry with the native industry of the Ígbira and Ígbo, while towards the south-east it invades the whole of Ádamáwa, and is only limited by the nakedness of the pagan sans-culottes, who do not wear clothing.

As for the supply sent to Timbúktu, this is a fact entirely overlooked in Europe, where people speak continually of the fine cotton cloth produced in that town, while in truth all the apparel of a decent character in Timbúktu is brought either from Kanó or from Sansándi; and how urgently this article is there demanded is amply shown by the immense circuit which the merchandise makes to avoid the great dangers of the direct road from Kanó to Timbúktu travelled by me, the merchandise of Kanó being first carried up to Ghát and even Ghadámes, and thence taking its way to Timbúktu by Tawát.

I make the lowest estimate in rating this export to Timbúktu alone at three hundred camel-loads annually, worth sixty million kurdí in Kanó—an amount which entirely remains in the country, and redounds to the benefit of the whole population, both cotton and indigo being produced and prepared in the country. In taking a general view of the subject, I think myself justified in estimating the whole produce of this manufacture, as far as it is sold abroad, at the very least at about three hundred millions; and how great this national wealth is, will be understood by my readers when they know that, with from fifty to sixty thousand kurdí, or from four to five pounds sterling a year, a whole family may live in that country with ease, including every expense, even that of their clothing: and we must remember that the province is one of the most fertile spots on the earth, and is able to produce not only the supply of corn necessary for its population, but can also export, and that it possesses, besides, the finest pasture-grounds. In fact, if we consider that this industry is not carried on here, as in Europe, in immense establishments, degrading man to the meanest condition of life, but that it gives employment and support to families without compelling them to sacrifice their domestic habits, we must presume that Kanó ought to be one of the happiest countries in the world; and so it is as long as its governor, too often lazy and indolent, is able to defend its inhabitants from the cupidity of their neighbours, which of course is constantly stimulated by the very wealth of this country.

Besides the cloth produced and dyed in Kanó and in the neighbouring villages, there is a considerable commerce carried on here with the cloth manufactured in Nýffi or Núpe, which, however, extends only to the first and the third of the articles above mentioned, viz. the “ríga,” or shirt worn by men, and the “zénne,” or plaid; for the Nyffáwa are unable to produce either túrkedí or ráwaní—at least for export, while they seem, with the exception of the wealthier classes, to supply their own wants themselves. The tobes brought from Nýffi are either large black ones, or of mixed silk and cotton.

With regard to the former, which are called “gíwa” (the elephant’s shirt), I am unable to say why the Kanáwa are not capable of manufacturing them themselves; but it seems that, while they thoroughly understand how to impart the most beautiful dye to the túrkedí, they are unable to apply the same to the ríga—I do not know why.

Of the latter kind there are several varieties: the ríga sáki, the small squares blue and white, as if speckled, and therefore called by the Arabs “fílfil” (pepper), and by the Tuarek, who, as I have mentioned, esteem it more than any other kind, the “Guinea-fowl shirt” (tekátkat taílelt), as shown in the woodcut on page 301, is very becoming, and was my ordinary dress from the moment I was rich enough to purchase it, as a good one fetches as much as from eighteen to twenty thousand kurdí; then the tob-harír, with stripes of speckled cast like the taílelt, but intermixed with red; the jellába, red and white, with embroidery of green silk, and several others. Specimens of all these I have brought home and delivered to the Foreign Office.[28]

The chief articles of native industry, besides cloth, which have a wide market, are principally sandals. The sandals are made with great neatness, and, like the cloth, are exported to an immense distance; but being a cheap article (the very best, which are called “táka-sárakí,” fetching only two hundred kurdí), they bear of course no comparison in importance with the former. I estimate this branch at ten millions. It is very curious that the shoes made here by Arab shoemakers, of Sudán leather, and called “bélghʿa,” are exported in great quantities to North Africa. The “nesísa,” or twisted leather strap, is a celebrated article of Kanó manufacture, and “jebíras,” richly ornamented, as the woodcut on page 303 shows, are made by Arab workmen.

The other leather-work I will not mention here, as it does not form a great article of commerce; but tanned hides (“kulábu”) and red sheepskins, dyed with a juice extracted from the stalks of the holcus, are not unimportant, being sent in great quantities even as far as Tripoli. I value the amount of export at about five millions.[29]

Besides these manufactures, the chief article of African produce in the Kanó market is the “gúro,” or kola-nut: but while on the one hand it forms an important article of transit, and brings considerable profit, on the other large sums are expended by the natives upon this luxury, which has become to them as necessary as tea or coffee to us. On another occasion I shall enumerate the different kinds of this nut, and the seasons when it is collected. The import of this nut into Kanó, comprising certainly more than five hundred ass-loads every year, the load of each, if safely brought to the market—for it is a very delicate article, and very liable to spoil—being sold for about two hundred thousand kurdí, will amount to an average of from eighty to one hundred millions. Of this sum, I think we shall be correct in asserting about half to be paid for by the natives of the province, while the other half will be profit.

But we must bear in mind that the greater part of the persons employed in this trade are Kanáwa, and that therefore they and their families subsist upon this branch of trade.

A very important branch of the native commerce in Kanó is certainly the slave-trade; but it is extremely difficult to say how many of these unfortunate creatures are exported, as a greater number are carried away by small caravans to Bórnu and Núpe than on the direct road to Ghát and Fezzán. Altogether, I do not think that the number of slaves annually exported from Kanó exceeds five thousand; but of course a considerable number are sold into domestic slavery either to the inhabitants of the province itself, or to those of the adjoining districts. The value of this trade, of which only a small percentage falls to the profit of the Kanáwa, besides the tax which is levied in the market, may altogether amount to from a hundred and fifty to two hundred millions of kurdí per annum.

Another important branch of the commerce of Kanó is the transit of natron from Bórnu to Núpe or Nýffi, which here always passes into other hands, and in so doing leaves a considerable profit in the place. The merchandise is very cheap; but the quantity is great, and it employs a great many persons, as I shall have ample occasion to illustrate in the course of my proceedings. Twenty thousand loads, at the very least, between pack-oxen, sumpter-horses, and asses, of natron must annually pass through the market of Kanó; which, at five hundred kurdí per load, merely for passage-money, would give ten millions of kurdí.

I here also mention the salt-trade, which is entirely an import one, the salt being almost all consumed in the province. Of the three thousand camel-loads of salt which I have above computed as comprising the aïri with which I reached Kátsena, we may suppose one-third to be sold in the province of Kanó; and therefore that hereby a value of from fifty to eighty millions annually is drained from the country. But we must not forget that the money which is paid for this requisite (and not only for that consumed in Kanó, but also in other provinces) is entirely laid out by the sellers in buying the produce of Kanó; viz. cloth and corn. Here, therefore, is an absolute balance—a real exchange of necessaries and wants.

As for ivory, at present it does not form a very important branch of the commerce of Kanó; and I scarcely believe that more than one hundred kantárs pass through this place. The lowest price of the kantár is in general thirty dollars, or seventy-five thousand kurdí; but it often rises to forty dollars, or one hundred thousand kurdí, and even more, though I have seen it bought with ready money for twenty-five dollars.

Of European goods the greatest proportion is still imported by the northern road, while the natural road, by way of the great eastern branch of the so-called Niger, will and must, in the course of events, be soon opened.

But I must here speak about a point of very great importance for the English, both as regards their honour and their commercial activity. The final opening of the lower course of the Kwára has been one of the most glorious achievements of English discovery, bought with the lives of so many enterprising men. But it seems that the English are more apt to perform a great deed than to follow up its consequences. After they have opened this noble river to the knowledge of Europe, frightened by the sacrifice of a few lives, instead of using it themselves for the benefit of the nations of the interior, they have allowed it to fall into the hands of the American slave-dealers, who have opened a regular annual slave-trade with those very regions, while the English seem not to have even the slightest idea of such a traffic going on. Thus American produce, brought in large quantities to the market of Núpe, has begun to inundate Central Africa, to the great damage of the commerce and the most unqualified scandal of the Arabs, who think that the English, if they would, could easily prevent it. For this is not a legitimate commerce; it is nothing but slave-traffic on a large scale, the Americans taking nothing in return for their merchandise and their dollars but slaves, besides a small quantity of natron. On this painful subject I have written repeatedly to H.M.’s consul in Tripoli, and to H.M.’s Government, and I have spoken energetically about it to Lord Palmerston since my return. I principally regret in this respect the death of Mr. Richardson, who, in his eloquent language, would have dealt worthily with this question. But even from his unfinished journals as they have been published, it is clear that during his short stay in the country before he was doomed to succumb, he became well aware of what was going on.[30]

The principal European goods brought to the market of Kanó are bleached and unbleached calicoes, and cotton prints from Manchester; French silks and sugar; red cloth from Saxony and other parts of Europe; beads from Venice and Trieste; a very coarse kind of silk from Trieste; common paper with the sign of three moons, looking-glasses, needles, and small ware, from Nuremberg; sword blades from Solingen; razors from Styria. It is very remarkable that so little English merchandise is seen in this great emporium of Negroland, which lies so near to the two branches of “the Great River” of Western Africa, calico and muslins (or tanjips, as they are called by the merchants) being almost the only English articles. Calico certainly is not the thing most wanted in a country where home-made cloth is produced at so cheap a rate, and of so excellent a quality; indeed the unbleached calico has a very poor chance in Kanó, while the bleached calico and the cambric attract the wealthier people on account of their nobler appearance. In Timbúktu on the contrary, where the native cloth is dearer, unbleached calico is in request; and it would be so in an extraordinary degree, if it were dyed dark blue. It is very interesting to observe that a small proportion of the calico imported into Kanó is again exported, after having been dyed, returning even the long way to Ghadámes. I estimate the whole amount of Manchester goods imported into Kanó at about forty millions; but it may be somewhat more. The sale of tanjips is very considerable; and the import of this article into Kanó certainly equals in value that of the former.

The very coarse silk, or rather refuse, which is dyed in Tripoli, is imported to a very considerable amount, this forming the principal merchandise of most of the caravans of the Ghadamsíye merchants, and about one-third of their whole commerce, amounting certainly to not less than from three to four hundred camel-loads annually, worth in Kanó each about two hundred thousand kurdí; this would give a value of about seventy millions imported. But according to some well-informed people, even as many as one thousand loads of this article pass annually through Ghadámes; so that, if we take into consideration that the supply of the northerly markets (as Tasáwa, Zínder) may well be compensated by what is brought by way of Múrzuk, the value of the import of this article into Kanó may be much more. A great deal of this silk, I have no doubt by far the greatest part, remains in the country, being used for ornamenting the tobes, sandals, shoes, and other things.

Woollen cloth of the most ordinary quality, chiefly red, but about one-third of the whole amount of green colour, was formerly imported to a great extent; but it has gone out of fashion, and I think a better quality, like that with which the market of Timbúktu is supplied by way of Mogador or Swaira, would succeed. I estimate this branch at present at only fifteen millions.

Beads, in very great variety,[31] form an important article of import; but the price has become so low of late years that there has been very little profit, and the supply has been kept back to raise the prices. The import of this article certainly amounts to more than fifty millions of kurdí, of which sum the value of twenty may remain in the country.

Of sugar, I think about one hundred camel-loads are imported every year, each containing eighty small loaves, of two and a half pounds each, which are sold in general at fifteen hundred kurdí; so that the import of this article would amount to about twelve millions. It is very remarkable that in all Central Negroland the large English sugar-loaf is scarcely ever seen, while it is the only one seen in Timbúktu. However, I was greatly surprised when, on my return from that place in 1854, ʿAlíyu, the Emír el Mumenín of Sókoto, presented to me an English loaf of sugar; and I heard that he had received several of them as presents from a merchant of Tawát. The small loaf has certainly a great advantage in such a country, where money is scarce; and I found in 1854 that its weight had even been reduced to two pounds.

Common paper, called on the coast “tre lune,” from the mark of three moons which it bears, is imported in great quantity, being used for wrapping up the country cloth; but it is a bulky, heavy article, and in larger quantities is sold at a very cheap rate. The whole amount of this import may be about five millions of kurdí.

Needles, with the emblem of the pig,[32] and small looking-glasses called “lemmʿa” in boxes, form important but very cheap articles, and I think their amount together will not much exceed the value of eight millions. Generally, the needles in large quantities are sold for one “urí” or shell each, but often even cheaper; and I was obliged to sell a thousand for six hundred kurdí. Also, fine needles for silk-work are in request, but only in small quantity, while large darning-needles are not at all wanted here, where the cotton cloth is fine, but are the most profitable thing in Eastern Negroland, from Bagírmi inclusive to Abyssinia.

Sword-blades, which are set here, are imported in considerable quantity; as not only the Kél-owí and the neighbouring Tárki tribes, but also the Háusáwa, Fúlbe, Nyffáwa, and Kanúri or Bórnu people, are supplied from this market. Fifty thousand may be the general annual amount of this article, which produces (the blade being reckoned at one thousand kurdí) fifty millions. Almost all of them that I saw, not only here, but even among the Tuarek near Timbúktu, were from Solingen. Only a small proportion of the import remains in the country; but the setting of the blades, which are again exported, secures a great profit to the natives.

Very few firearms, as far as I became aware, are imported into this market, although common muskets have begun to be imported by way of Nýffi at extraordinarily cheap prices by the Americans. Pistols and blunderbusses are privately sold by the merchants to princes or great men.

The common razors made in Styria, with black, wooden handles, bad as they are, are very much liked by the inhabitants, who know how to sharpen them most beautifully, and strengthen the wretched handle with a guard of copper. I had a tolerable supply of English razors, and found that those bought for sixpence at home would sell profitably, but that nobody would give, for a good razor, though ever so excellent, more than one thousand kurdí; however, the better sort are very fit for presents to men of importance, who know well their value. In any case the handles ought to be strong, and not likely to break. This commodity does certainly not much exceed two or three millions.

French silks, called “hattáya,” were formerly in great request, but at present seem to be a little out of vogue; and most of what is imported here is exported again by second-hand buyers to Yóruba and Gónja. The amount of this import into the Kanó market, I think, does not exceed twenty millions.

An important branch of import is formed by articles of Arab dress, chiefly bernúses, caftans, sedríyas, trousers, red caps, red sashes, shawls. It is difficult to state, even approximately, the value of these articles; but it cannot certainly be much less than fifty millions altogether. The sort of dress most in request comes from Tunis, but a good deal also from Egypt; and from the latter country come all the white shawls with red borders, called “subéta” in Arabic, “aliyáfu” in Háusa, and very much liked by the negroes as well as by the Tuarek. The import of this article alone exceeds the value of ten millions. The common articles of dress, of coarser workmanship, are made in Tripoli. Red caps of very coarse description are now imported from Leghorn, and find a sale, but are not liked by the free people.

Frankincense and spices—principally jáwi, benzoin, the resin obtained from a species of styrax, “símbil” or Valeriana Celtica, and cloves—form a not inconsiderable article of import, perhaps amounting to fifteen millions. However, I exclude from this sum the value of the rose oil which is annually imported in considerable quantity, and begin a dear article, forms also an important one; but very little of it comes into the general trade, almost all of it being disposed of privately to the princes and great men, or given to them in presents. I am inclined to estimate the value of this article imported at about forty millions. Tin and many other smaller articles may together be estimated at ten millions.

In the trade of Kanó there is another very interesting article, which tends to unite very distant regions of Africa; this is copper—“ja-n-kárfi.” A good deal of old copper—say fifty loads, together with about twenty loads of zinc—is imported from Tripoli; but a considerable supply of this useful and handsome metal is also imported every year by the Jellába of Nímro in Wadáy, who bring it from the celebrated copper-mine, “el hófra,” situate to the south of Dar-Fúr, of which I shall have occasion to speak later.[33] I estimate the whole import of this metal at about from fifteen to twenty millions; but it is to be remarked that, so far from being to the disadvantage of the Kanáwa, it proves a new material of industry, while only the smaller part remains in the country.

With regard to the precious metals, a small supply of silver is imported by the merchants, but rather exceptionally, most of the latter being but agents or commissioners engaged to effect the sale of the merchandise forwarded from Tripoli and Fezzán. The silver likewise supplies a branch of industry, the silversmiths, who are generally identical with the blacksmiths, being very clever in making rings and anklets. In Kanó scarcely any tradesman will object to receive a dollar in payment. With regard to iron, which forms a very considerable branch of industry in the place, I will only say that it is far inferior to that of Wándala or Mándara and Bubanjídda, which I shall mention in the course of my proceedings. Spears, daggers, hoes, and stirrups are the articles most extensively produced in iron.

As for gold, though a general standard, of the mithkál at four thousand kurdí, is usually maintained, in Timbúktu its price greatly varies, from three thousand five hundred up to four thousand five hundred kurdí; but this unreasonable fluctuation is but nominal, gold being scarcely ever bought in Timbúktu for ready money, but for túrkedís, when a túrkedí bought in Kanó for eighteen hundred, or at the utmost two thousand, fetches there a mithkál. One hundred mithkáls of gold may easily be bought in Kanó at any time. Even the common currency of the Kanó market, the “urí” (pl. kurdí) or shell (Cypræa moneta), two thousand five hundred of which are equal to the Spanish or Austrian dollar,[34] forms an important article of import and commerce, though I have not been able to ascertain that a large quantity is ever introduced at a time. Nevertheless that must sometimes happen, as a great amount of shells has been exported to Bórnu, where they have been recently introduced as currency; and this obviously explains why since the year 1848 the demand for these shells has so greatly increased on the coast.

These merely approximative figures cannot be reduced to the form of a balance-sheet; but they will give a general idea of the commercial activity of the place. I will conclude these few remarks by observing that the market of Kanó is better supplied with articles of food than any other market in Negroland; but meat as well as corn is dearer here than in Kúkawa, particularly the latter. Besides the great market-place, there are several smaller ones dispersed through the town, the most noted of which are the káswa-n-kurmí, Mandáweli, Hanga, káswa-n-máta, káswa-n-áyagi, káswa-n-Jírba, káswa-n-Yákase, káswa-n-kófan Wámbay, and the káswa-n-kófan Náyisa.

The province of Kanó, which comprises a very fertile district of considerable extent, contains, according to my computation, more than two hundred thousand free people, besides at least an equal number of slaves; so that the whole population of the province amounts to more than half a million; though it may greatly exceed this number. The governor is able to raise an army of seven thousand horse, and more than twenty thousand men on foot. In the most flourishing state of the country, the governor of Kanó is said to have been able to bring into the field as many as ten thousand horse.

The tribute which he levies is very large, considering the state of the country, amounting altogether to about one hundred millions of kurdí, besides the presents received from merchants. The most considerable item of his revenue consists in, the “kurdí-n-kása” (what is called in Kanúri “lárderám”), or the ground-rent. It is said to amount to ninety millions, and is levied, both here and in the province of Kátsena, not from the ground under cultivation, but every head of a family has to pay two thousand five hundred kurdí, or just a Spanish dollar; in the province of Zégzeg, on the contrary, the kurdí-n-kása is a tax of five hundred kurdí levied on every fertáña or hoe, and a single hoe will cultivate a piece of ground capable of producing from one hundred to two hundred “démmi” or sheaves of grain (sorghum and pennisetum), each of which contains two kél, while fifty kél are reckoned sufficient for a man’s sustenance during a whole year. Besides the kurdí-n-kása, the governor levies an annual tax called “kurdí-n-korófi,” of seven hundred kurdí[35] on every dyeing-pot or korófi, of which there are more than two thousand in the town alone; a “fítto” of five hundred kurdí on every slave sold in the market; an annual tax, “kurdí-n-debíno,” of six hundred kurdí on every palm-tree, and a small tax called “kurdí-n-ráfi” on the vegetables sold in the market, such as dánkali or sweet potatoes, gwáza or yams, rísga, rógo, etc. This latter is very singular, as the meat, or the cattle brought into the town, as far as I know, does not pay any tax at all. Clapperton was mistaken in stating that all the date-trees in the town belong to the governor, which is not more true than that all the sheds in the market belong to him.

The authority of the governor is not absolute, even without considering the appeal which lies to his liege lord in Sókoto or Wúrno, if the subjects’ complaints can be made to reach so far; a sort of ministerial council is formed, to act in conjunction with the governor, which in important cases he cannot well avoid consulting. At the head of this council stands the ghaladíma, whose office originated, as we shall see, in the empire of Bórnu, and who very often exercises, as is the case in Kanó, the highest influence, surpassing that of the governor himself; then follows the “serkí-n-dáwakay” (the master of the horse), an important charge in barbarous countries, where victory depends almost always on the cavalry; then the “bánda-n-Kanó” (a sort of commander-in-chief); then the “alkáli” or chief justice, the “chiróma-n-Kanó” (the eldest son of the governor, or some one assuming this title), who exercises the chief power in the southern part of the province; the “serkí-n-báy” (properly, the chief of the slaves), who has the inspection of the northern districts of the province as far as Kazáure; then the “gadó” or lord of the treasury, and finally the “serkí-n-sháno” (the master of the oxen, or rather the quartermaster-general), who has all the military stores under his care; for the ox, or rather the bull, is the ordinary beast of burden in Negroland. It is characteristic that, when the governor is absent paying his homage to his liege lord, it is not the ghaladíma, but the gadó and the serkí-n-sháno who are his lieutenants or substitutes.

With regard to the government in general, I think, in this province, where there is so much lively intercourse, and where publicity is given very soon to every incident, it is not oppressive, though the behaviour of the ruling class is certainly haughty, and there is, no doubt, a great deal of injustice inflicted in small matters. The etiquette of the court, which is far more strict than in Sókoto, must prevent any poor man from entering the presence of the governor. The Fúlbe marry the handsome daughters of the subjugated tribe, but would not condescend to give their own daughters to the men of that tribe as wives. As far as I saw, their original type has been well preserved as yet, though, by obtaining possession of wealth and comfort, their warlike character has been greatly impaired, and the Féllani-n-Kanó have become notorious for their cowardice throughout the whole of Negroland.

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Sunday, March 9.—The traveller who would leave a place where he has made a long residence, often finds that his departure involves him in a great deal of trouble, and is by no means an easy affair. Moreover my situation when, after much delay, I was about to leave Kanó, was peculiarly embarrassing. There was no caravan; the road was infested by robbers; and I had only one servant upon whom I could rely, or who was really attached to me, while I had been so unwell the preceding day as to be unable to rise from my couch. However, I was full of confidence; and with the same delight with which a bird springs forth from its cage, I hastened to escape from these narrow, dirty mud-walls into the boundless creation.

There being scarcely anyone to assist my faithful Gatróni, the loading of my three camels took an immense time, and the horseman destined to accompany me to the frontier of the Kanó territory grew rather impatient. At length, at about two o’clock in the afternoon, I mounted my unsightly black four-dollar nag, and following my companion, who (in a showy dress, representing very nearly the German costume about the time of the Thirty Years’ War, and well mounted), gave himself all possible airs of dignity, started forth from the narrow streets of Dalá, into the open fields.

I felt my heart lightened, and, forgetting what had passed, began to think only of the wide field now opening before me, if fresh means should reach us in Kúkawa. We had taken a very circuitous road in order to pass through the widest of the fourteen gates of the town; but the long passage through the wall was too narrow for my unwieldy luggage; and my impatient, self-conceited companion fell into despair, seeing that we should be unable to reach the night’s quarters destined for us. At length all was again placed upon the patient animals; and my noble Bú-Séfi taking the lead of the short string of my caravan, we proceeded onwards, keeping at a short distance from the wall, till we reached the highroad from the Kófa-n-Wámbay. Here too is a considerable estate belonging to a ba-Ásbenchí (a man from Asben), who has a company of slaves always residing here. Going slowly on through the well-cultivated country, we reached a small watercourse. Being anxious to know in what direction the torrent had its discharge, and unable to make it out from my own observation, I took the liberty of asking my companion; but the self-conceited courtier, though born a slave, thought himself insulted by such a question, and by the presumption that he ever paid attention to such trivial things as the direction of a watercourse, or the name of a village!

Having watered our horses here, I and my friend went on in advance, to secure quarters for the night, and chose them in a small hamlet, where, after some resistance, a mʿallem gave us up part of his courtyard surrounded with a fence of the stalks of Guinea-corn. When the camels came up we pitched our tent. The boy ʿAbdallah, however, seeing that my party was so small, and fearing that we should have some misadventure, had run away and returned to Kanó.

Though there was much talk of thieves, who indeed infest the whole neighbourhood of this great market-town, and, excited by the hope of remaining unpunished under an indolent government, very often carry off camels during the night even from the middle of the town, we passed a tranquil night, and got off at a tolerably early hour the next morning. The character of the country is almost the same as that during our last day’s march in coming from Kátsena, small clusters of huts and detached farms being spread about over the cultivated country, where we observed also some tobacco-fields just in flower: my attention was more attracted by a small range of hills in the distance on our left. I was also astonished at the little traffic which I observed on this route, though we met a considerable natron-caravan coming from Zínder, the ass and the bullock going on peaceably side by side, as is always the case in Negroland. The country continued to improve; and the fields of Charó, shaded as they were by luxuriant trees, looked fertile and well cared for, while the clusters of neat huts scattered all about had an air of comfort. Here we ought to have passed the previous night; and my companion had gone in advance to deliver his order, and probably to get a good luncheon instead of his missed supper. Beyond this village, or rather district, cultivation seemed to be less careful; but perhaps the reason was only that the villages were further from the road.

The quiet course of domestic slavery has very little to offend the mind of the traveller; the slave is generally well treated, is not overworked, and is very often considered as a member of the family. Scenes caused by the running away of a slave in consequence of bad and severe treatment occur every day with the Arabs, who generally sell their slaves, even those they have had some time, as soon as occasion offers; but with the natives they are very rare. However, I was surprised at observing so few home-born slaves in Negroland—with the exception of the Tuarek, who seem to take great pains to rear slaves—and I have come to the conclusion that marriage among domestic slaves is very little encouraged by the natives; indeed I think myself justified in supposing that a slave is very rarely allowed to marry. This is an important circumstance in considering domestic slavery in Central Africa; for if these domestic slaves do not of themselves maintain their numbers, then the deficiency arising from ordinary mortality must constantly be kept up by a new supply, which can only be obtained by kidnapping or, more generally, by predatory incursions, and it is this necessity which makes even domestic slavery appear so baneful and pernicious. The motive for making these observations in this place was the sight of a band of slaves, whom we met this morning, led on in two files, and fastened one to the other by a strong rope round the neck.

Our march was to be but a short one, as we were to pass the remainder of the day and the following night in Gezáwa; and as it was still long before noon, and we had the hottest time of the day before us, I was anxious to encamp outside the town in the shade of some fine tree, but my escort would not allow me to do so. We therefore entered the town, which is surrounded with a clay wall in tolerable repair, and moreover by a small ditch on the outside; but the interior presents a desolate aspect, only about a third part of the space being occupied by detached cottages. Here I was lodged in a small hot shíbki (reed hut), and passed the “éni” most uncomfortably, cursing my companion and all the escorts in the world, and resolved never again to take up my quarters inside a town, except where I was to make a stay of some length. I was therefore delighted, in the course of the afternoon, to hear from the man who had taken the camels outside the town upon the pasture-ground, that the sheríf Konché had arrived and sent me his compliments.

I had once seen this man in Kanó, and had been advised to wait for him, as he was likewise on his way to Kúkawa; but knowing how slow Arabs are, and little suspecting what a sociable and amiable man he was, I thought it better to go on; whereupon he, thinking that my company was preferable to a longer stay, hastened to follow me. To-day, however, I did not see him, as he had encamped outside the town; still I had already much reason to thank him, as he had brought back my fickle runaway servant ʿAbdallah, whom after some reprimand, and a promise on his side to remain with me in future, I took back, as I was very much in want of a servant. He was a native of the country, a Baháushe with a little Arab blood in him, and had been reduced to slavery. Afterwards, in Bórnu, a man claimed him as his property. His mother, who was living not far from Gérki, was also about this time carried into slavery, having gone to some village where she was kidnapped. Such things are of daily occurrence in these countries on the borders of two territories. The lad’s sister had a similar fate.

The inhabitants of Gezáwa seem to be devoted almost entirely to cattle-breeding; and in the market which was held to-day (as it is every Monday) outside the town, nothing else was offered for sale but cattle and sheep, scarcely a piece of cotton cloth being laid out, and very little corn. Also round the town there are scarcely any traces of cultivation. The mayor seemed not to be in very enviable circumstances, and bore evident traces of sorrow and anxiety; indeed the laziness and indolence of the governor of Kanó in neglecting the defence of the wealth and the national riches of his province are incredible, and can only be tolerated by a liege lord just as lazy and indifferent as himself. But at that period the country still enjoyed some tranquillity and happiness, while from the day on which the rebel Bokhári took possession of Khadéja, as I shall soon have occasion to relate, the inhabitants of all the eastern part of this beautiful province underwent daily vexations, so that the towns on this road were quite deserted when I passed a second time through this country, in December 1854.

Early next morning we loaded our camels and left the town, in order to join our new travelling companion, who by this time had also got ready his little troop. It consisted of himself on horseback, his “sirríya,” likewise on horseback, three female attendants, six natives, and as many sumpter-oxen. He himself was a portly Arab, with fine, sedate manners, such as usually distinguish wealthy people of the Gharb (Morocco); for he was a native of Fás, and though in reality not a sheríf (though the title of a sheríf in Negroland means scarcely anything but an impudent, arrogant beggar), yet, by his education and fine, noble character, he deserved certainly to be called a gentleman. The name “Konché” (Mr. Sleep) had been given to him by the natives, from his very reasonable custom of sleeping, or pretending to sleep, the whole day during the Ramadan, which enabled him to bear the fasting more easily. His real name was ʿAbd el Khafíf.

Our first salutation was rather cold; but we soon became friends; and I must say of him that he was the most noble Arab merchant I have seen in Negroland. Though at present he had not much merchandise of value with him, he was a wealthy man, and had enormous demands upon several governors and princes in Negroland, especially upon Múniyóma, or the governor of Múniyo, who was indebted to him for about thirty millions—shells, of course, but nevertheless a very large sum in this country. Of his “sirríya,” who always rode at a respectful distance behind him, I cannot speak, as she was veiled from top to toe; but if a conclusion might be drawn from her attendants, who were very sprightly, well-formed young girls, she must have been handsome. The male servants of my friend were all characteristically dressed, and armed in the native fashion with bows and arrows,—knapsacks, water-bottles, and drinking vessels all hanging around them in picturesque confusion; but among them there was a remarkable fellow, who had already given me great surprise in Kanó. When lying one day in a feverish state on my hard couch, I heard myself saluted in Romaic or modern Greek. The man who thus addressed me had long whiskers, and was as black as any negro. But I had some difficulty in believing him to be a native of Negroland. Yet such he was, though by a stay in Stambúl of some twenty years, from his boyhood, he had not only learned the language perfectly, but also adopted the manners, and I might almost say the features, of the modern Greeks. In such company we continued pleasantly on, sometimes through a cultivated country, at others through underwood, meeting now and then a motley caravan of horses, oxen, and asses, all laden with natron, and coming from Múniyo. Once there was also a mule with the other beasts of burden; and on inquiry, on this occasion, I learnt that this animal, which I had supposed to be frequent in Negroland, is very rare, at least in these parts, and in Kanó always fetches the high price of from sixty to eighty thousand kurdí, which is just double the rate of a camel. In Wángara and Gónja the mule seems to be more frequent. But there is only one in Kúkawa and in Timbúktu, the latter belonging to one of the richest Morocco merchants.

Animated scenes succeeded each other:—now a well, where the whole population of a village or zángo were busy in supplying their wants for the day; then another, where a herd of cattle was just being watered; a beautiful tamarind-tree spreading a shady canopy over a busy group of talkative women selling victuals, ghussub-water, and sour milk, or “cotton.” About ten o’clock detached dúm-palms began to impart to the landscape a peculiar character, as we approached the considerable but open place Gabezáwa, which at present exhibited the busy and animated scene of a well-frequented market. In this country the market days of the towns succeed each other by turns, so that all the inhabitants of a considerable district can take advantage every day of the traffic in the peculiar article in which each of these places excels.

While pushing our way through the rows of well-stocked sheds, I became aware that we were approaching the limits of the Kanúri language; for being thirsty, I wished to buy ghussub-water (“furá” in Háusa), but in asking for it, received from the woman fresh butter (“fulá” in Kanúri), and had some difficulty in making them understand that I did not want the latter. Continuing our march without stopping, we reached at noon the well-known (that is to say, among the travelling natives) camping ground of Kúka mairuá, an open place surrounded by several colossal specimens of the monkey-bread-tree, kúka or Adansonia digitata, which all over this region of Central Africa are not of that low, stunted growth which seems to be peculiar to them near the coast, but in general attain to a height of from sixty to eighty feet. Several troops of native traders were already encamped here, while a string of some thirty camels, most of them unloaded, and destined to be sold in Kanó, had just arrived. A wide-spreading tamarind-tree formed a natural roof over a busy market-scene, where numbers of women were selling all the eatables and delicacies of the country. The village lay to the south-east. Here we pitched our tents close together, as robbers and thieves are very numerous in the neighbourhood; and I fired repeatedly during the night, a precaution which the event proved to be not at all useless. The name of the place signifies “the Adansonia with the water.” However, the latter part of the name seemed rather ironical, as I had to pay forty kurdí for filling a water-skin, and for watering my horse and my camels; and I would therefore not advise a future traveller to go to a neighbouring village, which bears the name of “Kúka maífurá,” in the belief that he may find there plenty of cheap furá or ghussub-water.

Wednesday, March 12.—Our encampment was busy from the very first dawn of day, and exhibited strong proof of industry on the part of the natives; for even at this hour women were offering ready-cooked pudding as a luncheon to the travellers. Some of our fellow-sleepers on this camping-ground started early; and the two Welád Slimán also, who led the string of camels, started off most imprudently in the twilight. As for us we waited till everything was clearly discernible, and then took the opposite direction through underwood; and we had advanced but a short distance when a man came running after us, bringing us the exciting news that a party of Tuarek had fallen upon the two Arabs, and after wounding the elder of them, who had made some resistance, had carried off all their camels but three. I expressed my surprise to my horseman that such a thing could happen on the territory of the governor of Kanó, and urged him to collect some people of the neighbouring villages, in order to rescue the property, which might have been easily done; but he was quite indifferent, and smiling in his self-conceit, and pulling his little straw hat on one side of his head, he went on before us.

Small villages belonging to the district of Zákara were on each side, the inhabitants indulging still in security and happiness; the following year they were plunged into an abyss of misery, Bokhári making a sudden inroad on a market-day, and carrying off as many as a thousand persons. I here had a proof of the great inconvenience which many parts of Negroland suffer with regard to water, for the well at which we watered our horses this morning measured no less than three and thirty fathoms; but I afterwards found that this is a very common thing as well in Bórnu as in Bagírmi, while in other regions I shall have to mention wells as much as sixty fathoms deep. Beyond this spot we met a very numerous caravan with natron, coming from Kúkawa; and I therefore eagerly inquired the news of that place from the horsemen who accompanied it. All was well; but they had not heard either of the arrival or of the approach of a Christian. This natron, which is obtained in the neighbourhood of the Tsád, was all in large pieces like stone, and is carried in nets, while that coming from Múniyo consists entirely of rubble, and is conveyed in bags, or a sort of basket. The former is called “kílbu tsaráfu,” while the name of the latter is “kílbu bóktor.” We soon saw other troops laden with this latter article; and there were even several mules among the beasts of burden. The commerce of this article is very important; and I counted to-day more than five hundred loads of natron that we met on our road.

I then went on in advance with “Mr. Sleep,” and soon reached the village Dóka, which by the Arabs travelling in Negroland is called, in semi-barbarous Arabic, “Súk el karága,” karága being a Bórnu word meaning wilderness. The village belongs to the ghaladíma. Here we sat tranquilly down near the market-place, in the shade of some beautiful tamarind-trees, and indulged in the luxuries which my gentlemanlike companion could afford. I was astonished, as well as ashamed at the comfort which my African friend displayed, ordering one of the female attendants of his sirríya to bring into his presence a basket which seemed to be under the special protection of the latter, and drawing forth from it a variety of well-baked pastry, which he spread on a napkin before us, while another of the attendants was boiling the coffee. The barbarian and the civilized European seemed to have changed places; and, in order to contribute something to our repast, I went to the market and bought a couple of young onions. Really is incredible what a European traveller in these countries has to endure; for while he must bear infinitely more fatigue, anxiety, and mental exertion than any native traveller, he is deprived of even the little comfort which the country affords—has no one to cook his supper, and to take care of him when he falls sick, or to shampoo him;

Leaving my companion to indulge in the “kief” of the Osmánli, of which he possessed a great deal, I preferred roving about. I observed that during the rainy season a great deal of water must collect here, which probably explains the luxurious vegetation and the splendid foliage of the trees hereabouts; and I was confirmed in my observation by my companion, who had travelled through this district during the rainy season, and was strongly impressed with the difficulties arising from the water, which covers a great part of the surface.

Having allowed our people, who by this time had come up, to have a considerable start in advance of us, we followed at length, entering underwood, from which we did not emerge till we arrived near Gérki. According to instructions received from us, our people had already chosen the camping ground on the north-west side of the town; but my horseman, who had gone in advance with them, thought it first necessary to conduct me into the presence of the governor, or rather of one of the five governors who rule over this place, each of them thinking himself more important than his colleague. The one to whom he presented me was, however, a very unprepossessing man, and not the same who on my return from the west in 1854 treated me with extraordinary respect. Yet he did not behave inhospitably to me: for he sent me a sheep (not very fat indeed), with some corn and fresh milk. Milk during the whole of my journey formed my greatest luxury; but I would advise any African traveller to be particularly careful with this article, which is capable of destroying a weak stomach entirely; and he would do better to make it a rule always to mix it with a little water, or to have it boiled.

The town of Gérki is a considerable place, and under a strong government would form a most important frontier-town. As it is, it may probably contain about fifteen thousand inhabitants; but they are notorious for their thievish propensities, and the wild state of the country around bears ample testimony to their want of industry. The market, which is held here before the south-west gate, is of the most indifferent description. The wall with its pinnacles is in very good repair. In order to keep the thievish disposition of the natives in check, I fired some shots late in the evening; and we slept undisturbed. On my return journey, however, in 1854, when I was quite alone with my party, I was less fortunate, a most enterprising thief returning thrice to his task, and carrying away, one after the other, first the tobe, then the trousers, and finally the cap from one of my people.

Thursday, March 13.—Not waiting for the new horseman whom I was to receive here early in the morning, I went on in advance with my companion, in order to reach Gúmmel before the heat of the day; and we soon met in the forest a string of twelve camels, all laden with kurdí or shells, and belonging to the rich Arab merchant Bú-héma, who resides in Múniyo, and carries on a considerable commerce between Kanó and Kúkawa. I will here mention, that in general one hundred thousand kurdí are regarded as a camel-load; a fine animal, however, like these will carry as much as a hundred and fifty thousand, that is, just sixty dollars or twelve pounds’ worth. It is easy to be understood that, where the standard coin is of so unwieldy a nature, the commerce of the country cannot be of great value.

About two miles before we reached the frontier town of the Bórnu empire in this direction, we were joined by the horseman of the governor of Gérki; and we here took leave of Háusa with its fine and beautiful country, and its cheerful and industrious population. It is remarkable what a difference there is between the character of the ba-Háushe and the Kanúri—the former lively, spirited, and cheerful, the latter melancholic, dejected, and brutal; and the same difference is visible in their physiognomies—the former having in general pleasant and regular features, and more graceful forms, while the Kanúri, with his broad face, his wide nostrils, and his large bones, makes a far less agreeable impression, especially the women, who are very plain and certainly the ugliest in all Negroland, notwithstanding their coquetry, in which they do not yield at all to the Háusa women.

Birmenáwa is a very small town, but strongly fortified with an earthen wall and two deep ditches, one inside and the other outside, and only one gate on the west side. Around it there is a good deal of cultivation, while the interior is tolerably well inhabited. Konché, who was in a great hurry to reach Gúmmel, would have preferred going on directly without entering the town: but as I was obliged to visit it in order to change my horseman, it being of some importance to me to arrive in Gúmmel with an escort, he accompanied me. The population consists of mixed Háusa and Kanúri elements.

Having obtained another man, we continued our march through a country partly under cultivation, partly covered with underwood, and were pleased, near the village Tókun, to find the Háusa custom of a little market held by the women on the roadside still prevailing; but this was the last scene of the kind I was to see for a long time. We reached the considerable town of Gúmmel just when the sun began to shine with great power; and at the gate we separated, the sheríf taking his way directly towards his quarters in the southern part of the town, while I was obliged to go first to the house of the governor, the famous Dan-Tanóma (the son of Tanóma, his own name being entirely unknown to the people); but on account of his great age, neither on this nor on a later occasion did I get a sight of him. Indeed, he was soon to leave this world, and by his death to plunge not only the town wherein he resided, but the whole neighbouring country, into a destructive civil war between his two sons.

However, on my first visit Gúmmel was still a flourishing place, and well inhabited, and I had to pass through an intricate labyrinth of narrow streets enclosed between fences of mats and reeds surrounding huts and courtyards, before I reached the dwellings of the few Arabs who live here: and after looking about for some time I obtained quarters near the house of Sálem Maidúkia (the Rothschild of Gúmmel), where my Morocco friend was lodged. But my lodgings required building in the first instance, as they consisted of nothing but a courtyard, the fence of which was in a state of utter decay, and a hut entirely fallen in, so that there was not the least shelter from the sun, whereas I had to wait here two days at least for my new friend, whose company I was not inclined to forego, without very strong reasons, on my journey to Kúkawa.

However, building is not so difficult in Negroland as it is in Europe; and a most comfortable dwelling, though rather light, and liable to catch fire, may be erected in a few hours; even a roof is very sufficiently made, at least such as is here wanted during the dry season, with those thick mats, made of reed, called “síggedi” in Bórnu. But most fortunately Sálem had a conical roof just ready, which would have afforded satisfactory shelter even from the heaviest rain. I therefore sent immediately my whole remaining supply of kurdí to the market to buy those mats and sticks; and getting four men practised in this sort of workmanship, I immediately set to work, and, long before my camels arrived, had a well-fenced private courtyard, and a splendid cool shade, while my tent served as a store for my luggage, and as a bedroom for myself.

Having, therefore, made myself comfortable, I was quite prepared to indulge in the luxurious luncheon sent me by the maidúkia, consisting of a well-cooked paste of Negro millet with sour milk; after which I received visits from the few Arabs residing here, and was pleased to find one among them who had been Clapperton’s servant, and was well acquainted with the whole proceedings of the first expedition. He had been travelling about a good deal, and was able, with the assistance of a companion of his, to give me a tolerably complete itinerary of the route from Sókoto to Gónja, the gúro-country and the northern province of Asianti. These Arabs necessarily lead here a very miserable sort of existence; Sálem, however, a native of Sókna, has succeeded in amassing a considerable fortune for these regions, and is therefore called by the natives maidúkia. He had a freed slave of the name of Mohammed Abbeakúta, who, though not at all an amiable man, and rather self-conceited, nevertheless gave me some interesting information. Among other things, he gave me a very curious list of native names of the months, which are not, however, those used by the Háusáwa, nor, I think, by the Yórubáwa, he having been evidently a native of Yóruba. He also gave me the following receipt for an antidote in the case of a person being wounded by poisoned arrows: a very young chicken is boiled with the fruits of the chamsínda, the áddwa (Balanites), and the tamarind-tree; and the bitter decoction so obtained, which is carried in a small leathern bag ready for use, is drunk immediately after receiving the poisonous wound, when, as he affirmed, the effect of the poison is counteracted by the medicine. The chicken would seem to have very little effect in the composition, but may be added as a charm. The next morning I went with ʿAbd el Khafíf to pay our compliments to old Dan-Tanóma. His residence, surrounded by high clay walls, and including, besides numbers of huts for his household and numerous wives, some spacious halls of clay, was of considerable extent; and the courtyard, shaded by a wide-spreading, luxuriant tamarind-tree, was a very noble area. While we sat there awaiting the governor’s pleasure, I had a fair insight into the concerns of this little court, all the well-fed, idle parasites coming in one after the other, and rivalling each other in trivial jokes. The Háusa language is the language of the court; and the offices are similar to those which I mentioned above with regard to Kanó. Having waited a long time in vain, the weak old man sending an excuse, as he could not grant us an interview, we returned to our quarters.

To-day being Friday was market-day; and in order to see the market in its greatest activity I mounted at noon on horseback, and went out. In all these parts of Negroland, the customs of which are in every respect so different from those of Yóruba and the neighbouring countries, the market (in Kúkawa and Maseña, as well as in Kanó, Sókoto, and even in Timbúktu) is always most frequented and most busy in the hottest hours of the day, notwithstanding the great fatigue which all the people, and particularly the strangers, have to undergo. The market of Gúmmel is held outside the town, between the two gates on the west side, but nearer to the “chínna-n-yalá.”[36] (the northern gate), which is remarkable on account of its well-fortified condition.

Though I had heard a good deal about Gúmmel, I was nevertheless surprised at the size and the activity of the market, although that held on Saturday is said to be still more important. Gúmmel is the chief market for the very extensive trade in natron, which as I have mentioned above, is carried on between Kúkawa and Múniyo on one side, and Núpe or Nýffi on the other; for this trade passes from one hand into another, and the Bórnu people very rarely carry this merchandise further than Gúmmel. Large masses of natron, certainly amounting to at least one thousand loads of both qualities mentioned above, were offered here for sale—the full bullock’s load of the better quality for five thousand, an ass’s load of the inferior sort for five hundred kurdí. There were also about three hundred stalls or sheds, but not arranged in regular rows, where a great variety of objects were offered for sale,—all sorts of clothing, tools, earthenware pots, all kinds of victuals, cattle, sheep, donkeys, horses—in short, everything of home or foreign produce which is in request among the natives.

The Arabs have their place under a wide-spreading fig-tree, where I was greatly pleased to make the acquaintance of a very intelligent man called ʿAzi Mohammed Moníya, who gave me some valuable information, particularly with regard to the route from Kanó to Tóto, and that from Sókoto to Gónja. He also gave me the first accurate description of the immense town Alóri, or Ilóri, the great centre of the conquering Fúlbe in Yóruba, which I shall have frequent opportunity of mentioning in the course of my proceedings. This man, who was really very intelligent, had travelled a great deal, and had made a long stay in Stambúl, assured me that Alóri was, without the least doubt, larger than the latter city. Yet this immense town, of which the first accounts are due, I think, to Captain Clapperton, is sought for in vain in many of our most recent maps.

Greatly delighted with my visit to the market, though not a little affected by the exposure to the sun during the hot hours, I returned to my quarters; for though a practised traveller will bear very well the most scorching power of the sun, if he sets out in the morning and by degrees becomes inured to greater and greater heat, he may suffer fatally from exposing himself for a long time to the midday sun, after having spent the morning in the shade. Later in the afternoon, the governor sent, as a gift to me and ʿAbd el Khafíf, through his principal courtiers (such as the ghaladíma, the chiróma, and others, who were accompanied by a long train of followers), a young bullock, they being instructed at the same time to receive in return the present, or “salám,” as it is generally called, which we had prepared for him. I gave them a subéta and a small flask with rose oil, which is an article in great request with the fashionable world in Háusa and Bórnu. In the evening, we received also corn for our horses.

Saturday, March 15.—This was a most fortunate and lucky day for me; for suddenly, when I least expected it, I was visited by an Arab from Sókna, of the name of Mohammed el Mughárbi, who had just arrived with a little caravan of Swákena from Múrzuk, and brought me a considerable number of letters from friends in Tripoli, England, and Germany, after my having been deprived of news from them for ten months. The letters gave me great delight; but besides the letters there was something with them which touched me more sensibly, by the providential way in which it supplied my most urgent wants.

I was extremely short of cash, and having spent almost my whole supply of shells in fitting up my quarters, paying my guides, and discharging Makhmúd, who had proved quite unfit for service, I had very little left wherewith to provide for our wants on our long journey to Kúkawa. How surprised and delighted was I, then, on opening Mr. Gagliuffi’s letter, at the unexpected appearance of two Spanish dollars, which he forwarded to me in order to make good an error in my account with him. Two Spanish dollars! it was the only current money I had at that time; and they were certainly more valuable to me than so many hundreds of pounds at other times. However, the rascal who brought me the letters had also merchandise on the account of the mission, to the value of one hundred pounds; but, either because he wished to deliver it to the director himself, or in order to obtain also the hire stipulated for him if he should be obliged to carry the merchandise on to Kúkawa, he declared that the things had gone on in advance to Kanó,—an evident falsehood, which eventually caused us much unnecessary expense, and brought Mr. Overweg and myself into the greatest distress; for I did not, in fact, receive this merchandise till after my return from Ádamáwa—having subsisted all the time upon “air and debts.”

This and the following day I was busy answering my letters, and I will only mention here that from this place I intimated to one of my friends—Mr. Richard Lepsius, of Berlin—my foreboding that it might be my destiny, after trying in vain to penetrate to any great distance in a south-eastern direction, to turn my steps westwards, and to fill up my researches into the regions about Timbúktu by my personal experience. Having finished my parcel of letters, I gave it to the Mughárbi to take with him to Kanó, and entrust it to the care of one of my Tinýlkum friends, who would soon forward it to Múrzuk. Having been thus freshly imbued with the restless impulse of European civilization, and strengthened with the assurance that highly respected persons at such a distance took a deep interest in the results of our proceedings, I resolved not to linger a moment longer in this place, but rather to forego the company of my amiable friend, particularly as I knew that he was going to Múniyo, and therefore, after a few days’ march, would at all events separate from me. And I did well; for my friend did not reach Kúkawa before the middle of May, that is, six weeks after me. Such are the Arabs, and woe to him who relies upon them! The same thing happened to me on my successful return from Bórnu to the coast in 1855. Everybody assured me that the caravan was to leave immediately: but I went on alone in May, and reached Tripoli in August, while the caravan did not reach Múrzuk before March 1856. I therefore sent to Dan-Tanóma, begging him to furnish me with a horseman who would escort me to Máshena, and he assented. It was a hazardous and troublesome undertaking: I had only one servant, faithful, but young, and who had never before travelled this road; besides a little boy, delicate in body and unsteady in mind, and I was sure that I myself should have to do half the work, as well in loading and unloading the camels as in pitching the tent, and looking after everything.

Monday, March 17.—Having, taken a hearty leave of ʿAbd el Khafíf, I followed my camels and—my good luck. This was the first time on my journey that I travelled quite alone, and I felt very happy, though, of course, I should have been glad to have had one or two good servants.

The country on the east side of Gúmmel, at least at this time of the year, presented a very dull and melancholy appearance, and the most decided contrast to that cheerful and splendid scenery which is peculiar to the landscape round Kanó. Nevertheless, it seemed to be well inhabited, and we passed several places, some of them of tolerable size, and surrounded with earthen walls, of very inconsiderable elevation, and ditches; the courtyards, especially in the first town which we passed, the name of which is Kadángaré, “the lizard” in Háusa, were wide and spacious. A little later in the season the drought must be terribly felt in these quarters; for even at present we had great difficulty in watering our horses and filling a water-skin. Trees of good size became continually more scarce, but the country was still well inhabited, and after ten o’clock, near the little town Gósuwa, surrounded likewise by a low earthen wall, we reached a small market-place, consisting of about thirty stalls, where a market is held every Sunday; the town, however, was not thickly inhabited, and near its north-east corner especially there were large empty spaces.

Beyond this place the country became a little richer in trees, and we here passed a large village called Gáreji, where a path branches off leading to Maimágariá, a road generally taken by caravans. The population of all these places is composed of Bórnu and Háusa people, and many particular customs might be observed hereabouts, which are rather peculiar to the latter race. Dull as the country appeared, a feeling of tranquillity and security was communicated by the sight of little granaries, such as I have described above, scattered about without any protection in the neighbourhood of some villages. After we had passed the empty market-place of the little walled town Kábbori, the surface of the ground had a very peculiar look, being covered entirely with colocynths, which were just in maturity. About a mile and a half further on we took up our quarters in Benzári, a town belonging to the province of Máshena, or Másena, and were well received and hospitably treated by the ghaladíma. The town is separated into two parts by a spacious opening, wherein is the principal well which supplies almost the whole population, but its depth is considerable, being more than twenty fathoms. Here we filled our water-skin the next morning before we set out.

Tuesday, March 18.—Scarcely had we left Benzári behind us when my ears were struck by the distant sound of drums and singing, and I learnt on inquiry that it was Bokhári, or, as the Bórnu people call him, Bowári, the deposed governor of Khadéja and the brother of Áhmedu, the present ruler of that town. Bokhári’s name was then new, not only to me, but even to the natives of the neighbouring provinces. He had been governor of Khadéja, but being a clever and restless man he, or rather his jealous brother, had excited the suspicion of his liege lord ʿAlíyu, the ruler of Sókoto, who had deposed him and given the government to his brother Áhmedu, whereupon Bokhári had nothing else to do but to throw himself upon the hospitality and protection of the Bórnu people, who received him with open arms, the governor of Máshena, with the sanction of his liege lord the sheikh of Bórnu, assigning to him a neighbouring place, Yerímarí, for his residence. This is an incident of very frequent occurrence in these loosely connected empires; but it is particularly so with the Fúlbe, among whom one brother often cherishes the most inveterate hatred against another. Exactly the same thing we have seen already in Kátsena. Bokhári having remained some time quietly in this place, strengthening his party and assisted underhand with arms and men by the vizier of Bórnu, had just now set out to try his fortune against his brother, and was beating the drums in order to collect as many people as possible.

Predatory incursions are nothing new in these quarters, where several provinces and entirely distinct empires have a common frontier; but this, as the event proved, was rather a memorable campaign for the whole of this part of Negroland, and was to become “the beginning of sorrows” for all the country around. For Bokhári having taken the strong town of Khadéja, and killed his brother, was not only able to defend himself in his new position, vanquishing all the armies sent against him, and amongst them the whole military force of the empire of Sókoto, which was led on by the vizier in person, ʿAbdu the son of Gedádo, Clapperton’s old friend, but spread terror and devastation to the very gates of Kanó. Indeed, on my second journey through these regions, I shall have the sad duty of describing the state of misery into which districts, which on my former visit I had found flourishing and populous, had been reduced by this warlike chieftain, who instead of founding a strong kingdom and showing himself a great prince, chose rather, like most of his countrymen, to base his power on the destruction and devastation of the country around him, and to make himself a slave-dealer on a grand scale. Tens of thousands of unfortunate people, pagans as well as Mohammedans, unprotected in their wellbeing by their lazy and effeminate rulers, have from the hands of Bokhári passed into those of the slave-dealer, and have been carried away from their native home into distant regions.

Kept in alarm by the drumming, and making some not very tranquillizing reflections on the weakness of our little band, which consisted of three men and a boy, in the turbulent state of the country through which we were passing, we continued silently on, while the character of the landscape had nothing peculiarly adapted to cheer the mind. Cultivation beginning to cease, nothing was to be seen but an immense level tract of country covered with the monotonous Asclepias gigantea with only a single poor Balanites now and then. But the scene became more animated as we approached Chifówa, a considerable town surrounded by a low earthen wall, which I was greatly astonished to hear belonged still to the territory of Gúmmel, and was also assigned to Bokhári during his exile. The boundary between the provinces must run here in a very waving line.

All that I observed here testified that the Háusa population still greatly predominated; and as we had to turn close round the place on the north side, where the ground rose, we had a fine view over the whole interior of the town. It presented a very animated spectacle; and a large number of horsemen were assembled here, evidently in connection with the enterprise of Bokhári, while men and women were busy carrying water into the town from a considerable distance. Of cultivation, however, very few traces appeared; but a good many cattle and sheep, and even some camels, were seen grazing about. In Kaselúwa also, the next town, we were complimented with the usual Háusa salute. Having then passed through a monotonous tract of country covered with tall reed-grass and with the Asclepias, we reached the town of Yélkazá at half-past nine o’clock in the morning. Here the governor of the province of Máshena, who generally has his residence in the town of the same name, was staying at present, apparently on account of the expedition of Bokhári, which he was assisting underhand; and I accordingly had to pay him my compliments, as my horseman, who was a servant of Dan-Tanóma, could not well conduct me any further. We therefore entered the town by the north gate, and found people very busy repairing the fortification, consisting of two walls and three ditches of considerable depth, two of which ran outside round the outer wall, while the third was enclosed between the two walls.

Having presented ourselves at the residence of the governor, which was situated in the middle of the town, and consisted altogether of reed-work, we obtained good quarters, with a spacious and cool shed, which was the only thing we wanted; for being anxious not to lose any more time, I had resolved to start again in the afternoon. In order, therefore, to obtain a guide as soon as possible, I went to pay my compliments to the governor, whose name was Mohammed. After a little delay, he came out of the interior of his reed-house into the audience-hall, which likewise consisted entirely of reed-work, but was spacious and airy; there he sat down upon a sort of divan, similar to the ánkaréb used in Egypt, and made of the branches of the tukkurúwa, which had been brought in expressly for the purpose. My interview, however, was short, for neither was he himself a lively or inquisitive man, nor was my Tébu servant, whom, as I myself was not yet able to speak Kanúri with tolerable fluency, I was obliged to employ as interpreter, at all distinguished either by eloquence or by frankness, though in other respects he was an excellent lad.

I obtained, however, all that I wanted, the governor assigning me immediately a man who should accompany me to ghaladíma ʿOmár, the governor of Búndi, and I was glad that he did not grumble at my present, which consisted only of a small phial of rose oil and a quarter of a pound of cloves. The best and most usual present for the governors on this road, who are justly entitled to some gift, as no tolls are to be paid, is a subéta, or white shawl with red or yellow border, such as are brought from Egypt, which may be accompanied with some spices. The old man also sent me, after a little while, when I had returned to my quarters, a dish which at least was not richer than my present, consisting in a very unpalatable paste of Negro corn, with a nasty sauce of míya, or molukhíya. Háusa with its delicacies was behind us; and I was unable to procure, either for hospitality’s sake or for money, a dish of “fúra,” which I had become very fond of.

The heat was very great, though a light fresh breeze from the east made it supportable; and my new guide seemed by no means so anxious to go on as I was, so that I was obliged to search for him a long while. Having at length laid hold of him we started, passing through an undulating country without cultivation, and covered only with brushwood, and with the dreadfully monotonous káwo or Asclepias, when after three miles it became a little varied by underwood, the scene being enlivened by a karábka, or káfila, with nine camels coming from Kúkawa.

Thus we approached Taganáma, a considerable town, enclosed with a wall and a double ditch. We were obliged, however, to go round the whole town, the western gate being closed, and a sort of outwork, such as is very rare in these countries, consisting in a cross ditch projecting to a great distance, being made at its north-east corner. At length we reached the eastern gate, and entered the town. Its interior left on us an impression of good order and comfort; all the fences of the courtyards were in excellent repair, the huts large and spacious, and a certain air of wellbeing was spread over the whole place. Having obtained tolerable quarters, and corn for my guide’s horse and my own, we lay down early, in order to continue our journey with the first dawn next morning, but were aroused at midnight by some people arriving and stating, with an air of great importance, that they had letters for me. Greatly surprised, and wondering what these important despatches could be, I got up, but found, when I had kindled a light, that the letters were not for me at all but addressed to persons in Kúkawa unknown to me, by others in Kanó not better known. These unknown friends most probably, after I had fairly set out, had determined not to let slip this excellent opportunity of communicating with their friends in Kúkawa. However, the carriers of the letters thinking, and perhaps expressly made to think, that they had brought some important message for me, expected a handsome present; and I had some difficulty in persuading them that they were only giving me trouble for the sake of other people. Nevertheless, as they were unprovided with food, I ordered Mohammed to cook a supper for them; and after having disturbed my night’s rest by their noisy conversation, they made off again long before daylight. For in this whole district, where so many different nationalities border close together, the greatest insecurity reigns, and the inhabitants of one town cannot safely trust themselves to those of a neighbouring place without fear of being sold as slaves, or at least of being despoiled of the little they have.

My fine lancer, with whose manly bearing I had been very much pleased yesterday, appeared to have thought that, instead of exposing himself alone, by accompanying me further through a disturbed and infested district, he would do better to retrace his steps in the company of these people; for the next morning he was gone, and no trace of him was to be found. Perhaps he was anxious to join the expedition against Khadéja, where the soldier might make his fortune, while with me he could only expect to gain a few hundred shells; but whatever was his reason for decamping, he left me in a state of great perplexity, as I was in a hurry to go on as fast as possible; and in a country where there are no highroads, but where even tracks so important as that from Kanó to Kúkawa are nothing but small paths leading from one village or from one town to another, I could not well dispense with a guide. As regards security, I could only rely upon Providence and my own courage. Having in vain searched for my man, I loaded the camels, and mounting my horse, proceeded to the residence of the governor, who is the vassal of the ruler of Máshena. He, having been informed by his servants, soon came forth, a tall imposing figure, and seeing that my complaint was just, his liege lord having expressly assigned me the horseman in order to conduct me to Búndi, he assured me that he would find another guide for me; but as it would take some time, he ordered one of his servants to lead me out of the town to a place where the camels meanwhile might graze a little. Seeing that he was a just and intelligent man, I thanked him for his kindness, and followed his servant, who conducted us a few hundred yards from the town, where there was most excellent pasturage for the camels.

While we were waiting here for the guide, my companion, who was a sociable sort of man, helped me pass the time most agreeably with his instructive talk. I had observed a very curious object at the governor’s house—a leathern parcel of considerable dimensions, tied up with great care and hung on a long pole, and I had fancied that it contained the body of a criminal exposed there to every man’s sight as a warning example of severe punishment; but to my great astonishment I now learned that it was a powerful talisman suspended in order to protect the town against the Felláta, as the Bórnu people call the Fúlbe, whose inroads were greatly feared. He likewise informed me that four years ago there was a desperate struggle for Taganáma, when that town very narrowly escaped falling into the hands of those fanatical invaders. He praised his master, whose name as I now learned was Ísa. The cheerful aspect of the town seemed fully to confirm his praises, and I expressed my hope that his watchfulness and energy might be a better safeguard to the inhabitants than that monstrous talisman, the dimensions of which were really frightful. I was greatly pleased also to observe here the very first signs of preparing the ground for the approaching season, the slaves being busy clearing the soil with a sort of strong rake provided with four long wooden teeth, called “kámga”; but this is very rarely done, and the preparatory labours of agriculture must differ more or less in different districts according to the peculiar nature of the ground.

At length we saw the guides coming towards us. Instead of a horseman there were two archers on foot, short muscular men, clad only with a leathern apron round their loins, and for arms bearing, besides bow and arrows, the peculiar little Mánga battle-axe, which they carry on their shoulders, while a good sized leathern pocket for carrying provisions, and several diminutive garra bottles hung down by their sides. In short, they were real Mánga warriors, though they certainly did not inspire us with all the confidence which we should have wished to repose in a guide. However, having made them promise in the presence of the governor’s servant, who professed to know them well, that they would accompany me to Búndi, I started with them.

Having lost the finest hours of the morning, I was naturally anxious not to waste more time; and I was glad to perceive that the fine eastern breeze, which had prevailed for some days, greatly lessened the power of the sun. Soon afterwards we met the brother of the governor of Máshena, with a troop of twelve horsemen, hastening towards the point where the memorable campaign of Bokhári was to commence. The country was very monotonous, being soon covered with a forest of mean growth, uninterrupted by any tree of larger size, except the bare dismal-looking kúka or monkey-bread-tree, and presented evident signs of destructive warfare waged throughout it; we passed the former sites of several small towns and villages. The soil consisted here of deep white sand. After a march of about eight miles, however, the vegetation began to assume a different character, the ngílle or dúm-bush first appearing, then a karáge or gáwo (the locust-tree) being seen now and then, after which the dúm-palm began to prevail entirely. The substratum of this district is evidently granite, which seems to lie very close to the surface, as about noon a large mass of this rock projected near our path. A little beyond this point the wilderness was agreeably interrupted by an opening with stubble-fields, about which were scattered small granaries, producing, at such a distance from any inhabited place and without guardians, an agreeable feeling of security.

Half an hour afterwards we reached the stockade of Wuélleri, and proceeded directly to the house of the bíllama or mayor, as I wished to obtain here another guide, for it was only with the greatest difficulty that I succeeded in dragging on thus far my two archers, who had shown signs of the greatest anxiety during the latter part of the march, and had tried several times to turn their backs; but further they would not go on any account, and I was therefore obliged to dismiss them, paying them three hundred shells. Unfortunately the bíllama was not at home, and his brother proved to be a morose and surly fellow. I wished to stay here only during the hot hours of the day, and to proceed in the evening after having watered the camels; but he represented to me that the town of Máshena was too distant to be reached before night, if I did not go on directly. As this was impossible, I resolved to stay here for the night, and pitched my tent in an open place in front of a cool shed. However, we found great difficulty in watering our animals, the Mánga pretending that there was no water, though we ourselves had passed the well where the cattle had just been watered. Certainly the aquatic element was very scarce; and, after much debate, I was at length obliged to pay one hundred and fifty shells—an enormous charge, if the general price of the necessaries of life in this country be considered. Thus our poor camels got at length something to drink, and, with a good feed in the afternoon, were prepared for a long march the following day. However, we still wanted a guide; and, notwithstanding our begging, promising, and threatening, we were unable to persuade any one to accompany us on to Búndi. The reason of this, however, was not only on account of the absence of the governor of Máshena from his capital, but likewise owing to the unsettled state of the country, and the fear entertained by these people of being caught and sold into slavery. Indeed, between all these towns, there was scarcely any mutual intercourse kept up by the natives themselves.

Thursday, March 20.—Having exerted myself to the utmost to obtain a guide, I found myself obliged to start alone with my two young lads, the eldest of whom was eighteen, and the other not more than thirteen or fourteen years of age. Field and forest succeeded alternately to each other; and after a little less than two miles, we passed on our left a small village lightly fenced. Here we met also a small caravan, as a faint symptom of peaceable intercourse, though its array (covered as it went by an advanced guard of three archers marching at some distance, and performing at the same time the office of scouts, and by a rearguard of two more) showed clearly their sense of insecurity. The country now began to improve considerably; and a beautiful tamarind-tree vested in the richest foliage, and closely embracing a colossal leafless Adansonia, formed the beginning of a finer vegetation, while two mounts, one on our right hand and the other on our left, interrupted the monotonous level through which we had been travelling. Further on, granitic masses projected on all sides, and a solitary date-palm spread a peculiar charm over the landscape.

Having watered my horse at a well in the hollow between the two mounts, I reached, with my camels, the ditch and thorny fence then forming the only fortification of the town of Máshena, which place was strengthened, in the following year, with a clay wall. It lies on the gentle southern slope of an eminence, the top of which is crowned with a rocky crest, and is a considerable place for this country, having a population of certainly not less than ten thousand souls, but without the least sign of industry. A small káfila of Tébu and Arab merchants were encamped here; but although we arrived at the very hottest time of the day, I was too anxious to proceed to think of staying here; and having only asked the news from Kúkawa, and heard that all was well, I continued my march. It shows the slowness of intercourse in this country, that these people were ignorant of Mr. Richardson’s death, although he had died twenty days before at a place only six days’ march on this side of Kúkawa.

Keeping steadily on, first over open pasture-grounds, then through a country well wooded, we reached, after a march of about seven miles, a village, and entered it cheerfully with the intention of spending the night there, but were greatly disappointed on discovering that it was entirely deserted, and did not contain a living creature. Fortunately, however, after consulting what was to be done, we found a traveller who showed us a small path which was to lead us to the town of Alamáy. He also informed us that the inhabitants of this village, the name of which was Jáwel, had formed a new village further south. The little path pointed out, however, was so overgrown and slightly marked that we soon became doubtful and perplexed. I went, therefore, to inquire of a shepherd whom we saw at some little distance on the right of our path; but no sooner did he observe me approaching than he ran away, leaving his flock at our discretion.

The state of this country is very miserable indeed, all the petty governors around, as soon as they have any debts to pay, undertaking a predatory expedition, and often selling even their own subjects. However, we were lucky in finding at last a more trodden path, which soon brought us to an open, straggling village named Kárgímawa, which displayed a most animated and cheerful picture of a wealthy and industrious little community—the men sitting in the shade of some fine caoutchouc-trees, some of them busy making mats others weaving, while the women were carrying water, or setting the pot upon the fire for the evening repast. Cattle, goats, and fowl roved about in considerable quantities.

Quite delighted at arriving (in consequence of having strayed from the direct road) at this sequestered place, we pitched our tent with a grateful sense of security, and squatted comfortably down, while the camels found a rich repast in the fields. In one thing, however, I was disappointed. The sight of so many cattle had led me to anticipate a good draught of milk; but the cattle did not belong to the inhabitants, and before sunset they were driven away. In other respects we were hospitably treated, and four little dishes were brought us in the evening from different huts, three of which contained paste of Guinea-corn, and one beans. The latter always seemed to me an agreeable variety; but a European must be very cautious how he indulges in them in these regions, as they are apt to derange the stomach, and to bring on serious illness.

Friday, March 21.—Very early in the morning a numerous troop of small tradesmen, with pack-oxen, passed through the village while we awaited daylight; and then having gratefully taken leave of the hospitable villagers, we set out, accompanied by one of them, to show us the road. Having passed the former site of a little town, we soon gained the direct road, where we fell in with a motley gipsy-looking troop of those Tébu-Jétko, who, after the almost total annihilation of the commonwealth of Kánem, have immigrated into Bórnu. Those we met here were coming from Zínder. They had a few horses, oxen, and asses with them, but scarcely any luggage; and the whole attire of men, women, and children was very poor. We then passed the little town of Álamáy, surrounded not only with an earthen wall and ditch, but also with a dense thorny fence some ten feet thick on the outside. Here was exhibited the pleasant picture of a numerous herd of fine cattle lying tranquilly on the spacious area inside the wall, ruminating their last day’s repast, while a large extent of cultivated ground around the town gave ample proof of the industry of the people. But the well-being of the inhabitants of these regions has very little guarantee; and when, toward the end of the year 1854, I again travelled this same road, not a single cow was to be seen here, and the whole place looked mournful and deserted, tall reed-grass covering the fields which had been formerly cultivated.

Having then passed a thick forest of underwood, and some cultivated ground, half an hour before noon we reached Búndi,[37] the residence of the ghaladíma ʿOmár, fortified in the same way as Álamáy, and went up directly to the house of the governor, which consists entirely of reed-work. However, the mats (“lágará”) which surround the whole establishment are of very great height, at least fifteen feet, and of considerable thickness, made of a peculiar reed called “súgu,” and being sustained by long poles, and kept in a good state of repair, do not look ill. Besides, they are in general strengthened still further on the outside by a fence of thorny bushes.

The ghaladíma,[38] or governor of the Gháladí, which (as we shall see in the historical account of the Bórnu empire) comprised all the western provinces of Bórnu from the komádugu Wáube (the so-called Yéou) to the shores of the Kwára, having his residence in Bírni Ngurú, near Mármar, in former times was an officer (or rather an almost independent feudal vassal) of immense power; at present, however, he has sunk to great insignificance, and in real power is much inferior to his neighbours the governors of Múniyo, Zínder, and even that of Máshena. But the present ghaladíma ʿOmár is an intriguing man; and it would have been imprudent to pass on without paying him the compliment of a visit; and I was justified in hoping that he would provide me with a guide in order that I might reach as soon as possible the presence of his liege lord the sheikh of Bórnu.

Not being able to see him directly, I was obliged to sacrifice half a day, and to make up my mind to spend the night here. I therefore asked for quarters, and was lodged in a spacious but dirty courtyard, where I could procure but a very insufficient shade with my little English bell-tent of thin canvas. Having passed two uncomfortable hours without any refreshment, I was called in the afternoon into the presence of the governor, and being obliged to leave my servant behind to take care of my luggage while ʿAbdallah was pasturing the camels, I went alone, and found the great man in a spacious room or hall formed entirely of matwork, where he was lying upon an elevated platform or divan spread with a carpet. He was a short, well-fed, dark-coloured man, of about sixty years of age, his large, broad face looking forth from the hood of a blue cloth bernús, with a neutral expression indicating neither stupidity nor cleverness; his courtiers were grouped around him on the ground. Having saluted him and made the usual polite inquiries, I expressed my ardent desire to reach Kúkawa as soon as possible, as the day which I had fixed with my elder brother (Mr. Richardson) for a meeting in that place was drawing nigh; and I begged him, therefore, to grant me a guide who might conduct me there by the most direct road, of which I myself was ignorant, much time having been already lost in groping my way from one place to another. I then delivered my little present, consisting of an English razor and clasp-knife, a large mirror of German silver, a parcel of English darning-needles, half a pound of cloves, and a piece of scented soap. Having looked at these things with satisfaction, he asked me if I had not anything marvellous with me; and I consented to return to my quarters and fetch my musical box, with the performance of which the ghaladíma was highly pleased, but greatly desired to see some other curious things, such as pocket-pistols, whereupon I told him that I had nothing else calculated to gratify his curiosity. I was much fatigued, and on returning to my tent was not at all pleased to be still troubled by the governor’s servant, who came to ask, in the name of his master, for calico, sugar, rose oil, and sundry other articles.

Búndi is a place of tolerable size, but with little industry; and the province of which it is the capital is going to ruin more and more, on account of the laziness and negligence of its governor,—a statement which will be amply proved by the account of my journey through the same district in 1854. The town probably contains eight or nine thousand inhabitants, who belong to the Mánga nation, which seems to be the chief element of the Kanúri, and preserves many very remarkable customs. The special name of the clan of this tribe which dwells hereabouts is Kárda. There is no market here of any importance; but the inhabitants seem to be tolerably at their ease, and there was music and racing, or “kadáske,” in the evening, accompanied by the joyous shrill voices, the “wulúli,” of the women. We, however, seemed to be forgotten; and it was nine o’clock at night, long after we had supped, when we received a dish for ourselves, and corn for the horse. It is rather remarkable that these western provinces of Bórnu were never conquered by the Fúlbe or Felláta, though lying so much nearer to those countries of which they have definitively taken possession than that part of Bórnu situated between the old capital and the great lagoon. The consequence is, that a certain degree of independence is allowed to them, and that they do not pay any tithes to the sheikh.[39]

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Wednesday, April 2.—This was to be a most momentous day of my travels; for I was to reach that place which was the first distinct object of our mission, and I was to come into contact with those people on whose ill or goodwill depended the whole success of our mission. Although encamped late at night, we were again up at an early hour; but in endeavouring to return to the track which we had left the preceding night, we inadvertently crossed it, and so came to another village, with a very numerous herd of cattle, where we became aware of our error, and then had to regain the main road. Two miles afterwards there was a very great change in the character of the country; for the sandy soil which had characterized the district all along the komádugu now gave way to clay, where water is only met with at a considerable depth. We met a troop of tugúrchi, who informed us that none of the villages along our track at the present moment had a supply of water, not even the considerable village Kangáruwa, but that at the never-failing well of Beshér I should be able to water my horse. This news only served to confirm me in my resolution to ride on in advance, in order as well to water my poor beast before the greatest heat of the day, as to reach the residence in good time.

I therefore took leave of my two young servants, and, giving Mohammed strict orders to follow me with the camels as fast as possible, I hastened on. The wooded level became now interrupted from time to time by bare naked concavities, or shallow hollows, consisting of black sedimentary soil, where, during the rainy season, the water collects and, drying up gradually, leaves a most fertile sediment for the cultivation of the másakwá. This is a peculiar kind of holcus (Holcus cernuus), which forms a very important article in the agriculture of Bórnu. Sown soon after the end of the rainy season, it grows up entirely by the fructifying power of the soil, and ripens with the assistance only of the abundant dews, which fall here usually in the months following the rainy season. These hollows, which are the most characteristic natural feature in the whole country, and which encompass the south-western corner of the great lagoon of Central Africa throughout a distance of more than sixty miles from its present shore, are called “ghadír” by the Arabs “fírki,” or “ánge,” by the Kanúri. Indeed they amply testify to the far greater extent of the lagoon in ante-historical times.

Pushing on through a country of this description, and passing several villages, I reached about noon Beshér, a group of villages scattered over the cornfields, where numerous horsemen of the sheikh were quartered; and being unable myself to find the well, I made a bargain with one of the people to water my horse, for which he exacted from me forty “kúngona” or cowries. However, when I had squatted down for a moment’s rest in the shade of a small talha-tree, his wife, who had been looking on, began to reprove him for driving so hard a bargain with a young inexperienced stranger; and then she brought me a little tiggra and curdled milk diluted with water, and afterwards some ngáji, or paste of sorghum.

Having thus recruited my strength, I continued my march; but my horse, not having fared so well, was nearly exhausted. The heat was intense; and therefore we proceeded but slowly till I reached Kálilwá, when I began seriously to reflect on my situation, which was very peculiar. I was now approaching the residence of the chief whom the mission, of which I had the honour to form part, was especially sent out to salute, in a very poor plight, without resources of any kind, and left entirely by myself owing to the death of the director. I was close to this place, a large town, and was about to enter it without a single companion. The heat being just at its highest, no living being was to be seen either in the village or on the road; and I hesitated a moment, considering whether it would not be better to wait here for my camels. But my timid reluctance being confounded by the thought that my people might be far behind, and that if I waited for them we should find no quarters prepared for us, I spurred on my nag, and soon reached the western suburb of Kúkawa.

Proceeding with some hesitation towards the white clay wall which encircles the town, and which from a little distance could scarcely be distinguished from the adjoining ground, I entered the gate, being gazed at by a number of people collected here, and who were still more surprised when I inquired for the residence of the sheikh. Then passing the little daily market (the dyrríya), which was crowded with people, I rode along the déndal, or promenade, straight up to the palace, which borders the promenade towards the east. It is flanked by a very indifferent mosque, built likewise of clay, with a tower at its north-west corner, while houses of grandees enclose the place on the north and south sides. The only ornament of this place is a fine chédia or caoutchouc-tree in front of the house of ʿAli Ladán, on the south side: but occasionally it becomes enlivened by interesting groups of Arabs and native courtiers in all the finery of their dress, and of their richly caparisoned horses.

The sheikh, though he usually resides in his palace in the eastern town, was at present here; and the slaves stared at me, without understanding or caring to understand, what I wanted, until Díggama, the storekeeper, was called, who, knowing something of me as ʿAbd el Kerím, ordered a slave to conduct me to the vizier. Though I had heard some account of the sheikh living out of the western town, I was rather taken by surprise at seeing the large extent of the double town; and I was equally astonished at the number of gorgeously dressed horsemen whom I met on my way.

Considering my circumstances, I could not have chosen a more favourable moment for arriving. About two hundred horsemen were assembled before the house of the vizier, who was just about to mount his horse in order to pay his daily visit to the sheikh. When he came out, he saluted me in a very cheerful way, and was highly delighted when he heard and saw that I had come quite alone. He told me he had known me already, from the letter which I had sent to his agent in Zínder stating that I would come after I had finished my business, but not before. While he himself rode in great state to the sheikh, he ordered one of his people to show me my quarters. These were closely adjoining the vizier’s house, consisting of two immense courtyards, the more secluded of which enclosed, besides a half-finished clay dwelling, a very spacious and neatly built hut. This, as I was told, had been expressly prepared for the mission before it was known that we were without means.

I had scarcely taken possession of my quarters when I received several visits from various parties attached to the mission, who all at once made me quite au fait of all the circumstances of my not very enviable situation as one of its surviving members. The first person who called upon me was Ibrahím, the carpenter, who, at Mr. Richardson’s request, had been sent up from Tripoli, at the monthly salary of twenty mahbúbs besides a sum of four dollars for his maintenance. He was certainly a handsome young man, about twenty-two years of age, a native of “the holy house” (Bét el mogaddus) or Jerusalem, with big sounding phrases in his mouth, and quite satisfied to return with me directly to Fezzán without having done anything. Then came his more experienced and cheerful companion, ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, a real sailor, who was not so loud in his clamours, but urged more distinctly the payment of his salary, which was equal to that of Ibrahím.

After I had consoled these dear friends, and assured them that I had no idea at present of returning northward, and that I should do my best to find the means of satisfying the most urgent of their claims, there arrived another of the bloodsuckers of the mission, and the most thirsty of them all. It was my colleague, the bibulous Yusuf, son of Mukni the former governor of Fezzán, accompanied by Mohammed ben Bu-Sʿad, whom Mr. Richardson, when he discharged Yusuf in Zínder, had taken into his service in his stead, and by Mohammed ben Habíb, the least serviceable of Mr. Richardson’s former servants. Yusuf was mounted upon a fine horse, and most splendidly dressed; but he was extremely gracious and condescending, as he entertained the hope that my boxes and bags, which had just arrived with my faithful Gatróni, were full of shells, and that I should be able to pay his salary at once. He was greatly puzzled when I informed him of my extreme poverty. Mr. Richardson’s other servants, to my great regret, had gone off the day before, unpaid as they were, in order to regain their various homes.

I now ascertained that the pay due to Mr. Richardson’s servants amounted to more than three hundred dollars; besides which there was the indefinite debt to the Sfáksi, amounting in reality to twelve hundred and seventy dollars, but which, by the form in which the bill had been given, might easily be doubled. I did not possess a single dollar, a single bernús, nor anything of value, and moreover was informed by my friends that I should be expected to make both to the sheikh and to the vizier a handsome present of my own. I now saw also that what the Sheríf el Habíb had told me on the road (viz. that all Mr. Richardson’s things had been divided and squandered) was not altogether untrue. At least, they had been deposited with the vizier on very uncertain conditions, or rather had been delivered up to him by the two interpreters of our late companion, intimating to him that I and Mr. Overweg were quite subordinate people attached to the mission, and that we had no right to interfere in the matter.

Seeing how matters stood, I thought it best, in order to put a stop to the intrigues which had been set a going, to take Mohammed ben Sʿad into my service on the same salary which he had received from Mr. Richardson. Besides, I pledged my word to all that they should each receive what was due to him, only regretting that the rest of Mr. Richardson’s people had already gone away. After all these communications, fraught with oppressive anxiety, I received a most splendid supper as well from the sheikh as from the vizier, and, after the various exertions of the day, enjoyed a quiet night’s rest in my clean cottage.

Thus strengthened, I went the next morning to pay my respects to the vizier, taking with me a small present of my own, the principal attractions of which lay in a thick twisted lace of silk of very handsome workmanship, which I had had made in Tripoli, and a leathern letter-case of red colour, which I had brought with me from Europe. Destitute as I was of any means, and not quite sure as yet whether Her Britannic Majesty’s Government would authorize me to carry out the objects of the mission, I did not deem it expedient to assume too much importance, but simply told the vizier that, though the director of the mission had not been fortunate enough to convey to him and the sheikh with his own mouth the sentiments of the British Government, yet I hoped that, even in this respect, these endeavours would not be quite in vain, although at the present moment our means were so exhausted that, even for executing our scientific plans, we were entirely dependent on their kindness.

The same reserve I maintained in my interview with the sheikh on the morning of Friday, when I laid little stress upon the object of our mission (to obtain security of commerce for English merchants), thinking it better to leave this to time, but otherwise dwelling upon the friendship established between the sheikh’s father and the English, and representing to them that, relying upon this manifestation of their friendly disposition, we had come without reserve to live awhile among them, and under their protection and with their assistance to obtain an insight into this part of the world, which appeared so strange in our eyes. Our conversation was quite free from constraint or reserve, as nobody was present besides the sheikh and the vizier.

I found the sheikh (ʿOmár, the eldest son of Mohammed el Amín el Kánemy) a very simple, benevolent, and even cheerful man. He has regular and agreeable features, rather a little too round to be expressive; but he is remarkably black—a real glossy black, such as is rarely seen in Bórnu, and which he has inherited undoubtedly from his mother, a Bagírmaye princess. He was very simply dressed in a light tobe, having a bernús negligently wrapped round his shoulder; round his head a dark-red shawl was twisted with great care; and his face was quite uncovered, which surprised me not a little, as his father used to cover it in the Tuarek fashion. He was reclining upon a divan covered with a carpet, at the back of a fine airy hall neatly polished.

My presents were very small, the only valuable article among them being a nice little copy of the Kurán, which on a former occasion I had bought in Egypt for five pounds sterling, and was now carrying with me for my own use. That I made a present of this book to the prince may perhaps be regarded with an unfavourable eye by some persons in this country; but let them consider it as a sign of an unprejudiced mind, and of the very high esteem in which he held me, that, although knowing me to be a Christian, he did not refuse to accept from my hands that which was most holy in his eyes. On the whole I could not have expected a more friendly reception, either from the sheikh or from his vizier. But there was a very delicate point which I was obliged to touch upon: what was to become of Mr. Richardson’s property?

In the afternoon I went again to the vizier, and requested to see the inventory of all that my late companion had left; and he showed it to me and read it himself. He then ordered the box to be opened, which contained clothes and papers; and I was glad to see that not only the journals, upon the keeping of which Mr. Richardson had bestowed great care, but also all his other collectanea, were safe. Having taken the inventory with me, I sent Mohammed the following day to him with the request that Mr. Richardson’s property should be delivered to me. Having been desired to call myself at noon, I went, but was surprised to find only Lamíno (properly el Amín), the vizier’s confidential officer, of whom I shall have occasion to speak hereafter. I was still more surprised when only some of Mr. Richardson’s boxes were brought in, and I was desired to select what I wanted, and leave the rest behind. This I refused to do, and asked where the other things were, when Lamíno did not hesitate to declare that the ornamented gun and the handsome pair of pistols had been sold. Upon hearing this, though I had been treated very kindly and hospitably on my arrival, and had received immense quantities of provision of every kind, I could not refrain from declaring that if in truth they had behaved so unscrupulously with other people’s property I had nothing more to do here, and returned to my quarters immediately.

My firmness had its desired effect; and late in the evening I received a message from the vizier, that if I wanted to have a private interview with him I might come now, as during the daytime he was always troubled by the presence of a great many people. The person who brought me this message was Háj Edrís, a man of whom in the course of my proceedings I shall have to speak repeatedly. Satisfied with having an opportunity of conversing with the vizier without reserve, I followed the messenger immediately, and found Háj Beshír quite alone, sitting in an inner court of his house, with two small wax candles by his side. We then had a long interview, which lasted till midnight, and the result of which was that I protested formally against the sale of those things left by Mr. Richardson, and insisted that all should be delivered to me and to Mr. Overweg as soon as he should arrive, when we would present to the sheikh and to the vizier, in a formal manner all those articles which we knew our companion had intended to give to them. Besides, I urged once more the necessity of forwarding the news of Mr. Richardson’s death, and of my safe arrival as soon as possible, as, after our late misfortunes in Aír, Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, as well as our friends, would be most anxious about our safety. I likewise tried to persuade my benevolent and intelligent host that he might do a great service to the mission, if he would enable us to carry out part of our scientific purposes without delay, as Government would certainly not fail to honour us with their confidence, if they saw that we were going on. Having carried all my points, and being promised protection and assistance to the widest extent, I indulged in a more friendly chat, and, delighted by the social character of my host, and full of the most confident hopes for my future proceedings, withdrew a little after midnight.

Having in this way vindicated the honourable character of the mission, and my own, I applied myself with more cheerfulness to my studies and inquiries, for which I found ample opportunity; for many distinguished personages from distant countries were staying here at this time, partly on their journey to or from Mekka, partly only attracted by the fame of the vizier’s hospitable and bounteous character. But before I give any account of my stay in Kúkawa previous to my setting out for Ádamáwa, I think it well to try to impart to the reader a more lively interest in the country to which he has thus been transferred, by laying before him a short account of its history, as I have been able to make it out from original documents and from oral information.

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The documents upon which the history of Bórnu is based, besides the scanty information contained in the narratives of recent explorers, are—

1. A chronicle (“diván”), or rather the dry and sterile abridgment of a chronicle, comprising the whole history of Bórnu, from the earliest time down to Ibrahím, the last unfortunate offspring of the royal family, who had just ascended the crumbling throne of the Bórnu empire when the last English expedition arrived in that country. 6 pp. 4to.[41]

2. Two other still shorter lists of the Bórnu kings.

3. A detailed history of the first twelve years of the reign of the king Edrís Alawóma, consisting of two parts, in my copy one of 77 and the other of 145 pages, and written by a contemporary of the above-mentioned king, the Imám Ahmed, son of Sofíya. Of this very interesting and important history a copy was forwarded by the late vizier of Bórnu, Háj Beshír ben Tiráb, at my urgent request,[42] to Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, and is now in the Foreign Office; another copy I myself have brought back.

4. A few facts regarding the history of this country, mentioned by Arabic writers, such as Ebn Sáid (A.D. 1282), Ebn Batúta (A.D. 1353), Ebn Khaldún (A.D. 1381-2), Makrízí (about A.D. 1400), and Leo Africanus (A.D. 1528).

5. A short document containing information about embassies sent to Tripoli by some Bórnu kings, and published in the “Bulletin de la Société Géographique de Paris,” 1849, 252 ff.

I now proceed to inquire into the character of the first of these documents, which is the only one among them comprising the whole history of Bórnu, and which therefore forms the basis of our tables. The most momentous question is,—upon what authority this document rests, and when it was compiled. As for the first point, I have been assured by Shitíma Makarémma (a man intimately connected with the old dynasty, who made the two copies for me, and of whom some notice will be found in my journal) that it is a mere extract from a more voluminous work, which he represented as still existing, but which I was unable to procure, as it is carefully concealed. The whole business of collecting documents and information relative to the history of the old dynasty was most difficult, and demanded much discretion, as the new dynasty of the Kánemíyín endeavours to obliterate as much as possible the memory of the old Kanúri dynasty, and has assiduously destroyed all its records wherever they could be laid hold of.

As regards the time when the chronicle, of which the manuscript in question is a very meagre and incorrect abridgment, was written, it is stated that the various parts of it were composed at different times, at the beginning of every new reign; and the question is, when the Kanúri people, or rather their ʿulama, began to commit to writing the most important facts of their history. This question we are fortunately enabled, from Imám Ahmed’s work, to answer satisfactorily; namely, that there existed no written record whatever of the history of his country previous to the king Edrís Katakarmábi, whose reign falls in the first half of the sixteenth century of our era. For when that writer refers to facts of the older history, he is only able to recite as his authority oral information received from old men versed in historical tradition; and he evidently mentions as the oldest author of a written history, the fákih Masfárma ʿOmár ben ʿOthmán, who wrote the history of the king in question.

The annals, therefore, of the time preceding the period of this king and of his predecessor ʿAli Gajidéni, appear to be based entirely upon oral information, and cannot but be liable to a certain degree of inaccuracy as to the actions attributed to each king, the length of their respective reigns, and even the order of succession where it was not dependent on genealogy or descent. For it would be the extreme of hypercriticism to deny that the royal family of Bórnu, in the middle of the sixteenth century, could not or may not justly be supposed to have preserved with great precision their line of descent for fifteen or twenty generations; and in this respect the chronicle No. 1 is entirely confirmed and borne out by Imám Ahmed, who, in the introduction to his History, gives the pedigree of his master Edrís Alawóma up to his first royal ancestor, while the difference in the form of the names, and one slight variance in the order of succession, as given by these two documents, is a plain proof that they have not been borrowed from each other, but have been based on independent authorities.

The disagreement in question is certainly a remarkable one; but it is easily explained. For Makrízí, in harmony with the extract from the chronicle, names the father of the kings Edrís and Dáúd (whose reign he places about the year 700 of the Hejra), Ibrahím, while Imám Ahmed calls them sons of Nikále son of Ibrahím; and this is the general statement of the natives of the country even at the present time, every educated man knowing “Dáúd tata Nikálebe,” or Dáúd Nikálemi. The fact is, that the name Bíri, which the chronicle attributes to the father of Ibrahím the grandfather of Edrís and Dáúd, being a variation of the form Bíram, is identical with Ibrahím; whence it appears that Nikále was another name of Ibrahím the son of Bíri. The same is the case with regard to the names Ahmed and Dúnama, which are identical, if not with regard to their meanings, at least with regard to their applications, as well as the names Sélma or Sélmama and ʿAbd el Jelíl.

This general harmony between the pedigree of the Bórnu kings as given by the chronicle No. 1 and the Imám Ahmed, a learned and clever man in a high position, and in constant connection with the court, is, I think, very satisfactory, and the more so if we take into consideration that, from a reason which I shall soon mention, and which at the same time is a strong argument in favour of the authenticity of these two documents, the pedigree as given by them is not the only one current in Bórnu, but the line of descent and succession varies greatly in one of the two other short chronicles which are mentioned in No. 2, while the third one, which does not appear to make any pretensions to completeness, cannot be taken into account here. Hence, as far as regards the line of descent or succession, I have not thought these two lists worthy of attention, except only with regard to the reign following that of the fifty-eighth king, if we count the reign of the usurper Sʿaíd ʿAlí, the son of Háj ʿOmár. For here the chronicle No. 1 has omitted, by mistake or negligence, the well-established reign of Edrís ben ʿAli, who succeeding to his father ʿAlí, preceded his younger brother Dúnama ben ʿAlí, and reigned twenty years.[43]

What I have here said with regard to the authenticity of the chronicle refers only to the line of descent and succession of the kings mentioned; but, of course, it is quite another question, if we take into view the length of time attributed to the reign of each succeeding king. But even here the dates of the chronicle are confirmed in a most surprising and satisfactory manner by the history of Imám Ahmed, who, in relating the successful expedition of Edrís Aʿaishámi to Kánem, states that from the time when Dáúd Nikálemi was obliged to leave his capital Njímiye, down to the period when Edrís made his entrance into it, 122 years had elapsed. Now, according to the dates of the chronicle, between the end of the reign of Dáúd and the beginning of the reign of Edrís, who is expressly stated by the historian to have undertaken that expedition in the first year of his reign, there intervened exactly 121 years. And indeed we see from the Imám’s account, that most people thought this was the real length of the period, and not 122 years; so well were the educated inhabitants of Bórnu at that time acquainted with the history of their country. Perhaps also Imám Ahmed wishes here to refute Masfárma, the historian of Edrís Áʿaishámi, who adhered to the general opinion.

Unfortunately, the length of the several reigns is our only guide with regard to the chronology of this history, as neither the chronicle nor even Imám Ahmed specifies particular years with reference to any of the events which they mention. This is indeed a very great defect, not so apparent in the dry chronicle as in the account of the learned priest; and it seems almost inconceivable, as he is very particular, not only with regard to seasons, but even to months and days, mentioning with great exactness on what day of the month his master did so and so, and even disputing, in this respect, slight variations of opinion. If he had only given us the date of a single year, we should be much better off as to the chronology of the history of Bórnu. As it is, if we put out of account other chronological data which we are fortunately in possession of, in order to reduce to chronology the events mentioned by the chronicle, we can only reckon backwards the number of years attributed by it to the reign of each successive king, commencing from the death of Sultan Dúnama, who in the year A.H. 1233 was killed in the battle at Ngála (written “Ghála” in Arabic, but called “Angala” by the members of the former expedition).

If we now count together the years attributed to each reign, proceeding in a backward order, and beginning with the end of the year H. 1233, we obtain, in an inverse order, the following chronological dates for the more important periods of the history of Bórnu.

	A.H.	A.D.
Beginning of the reign of Ayúma	391	1000-1
Beginning of the reign of Humé, the first Moslim king	479	1086
Reign of Dúnama Díbalámi, the warlike and daring king who spoiled the talisman of Bórnu	618-658	1221-1259-60
Beginning of the reign of Ibrahím Nikálemi	707	1307
Beginning of the reign of Edrís ben Ibrahím	754	1353
End of the reign of Dáúd, who succumbed to the Bulála	789	1387
End of the reign of ʿOthmán ben Edrís	795	1392-3
The reign of ʿOmʿar, who abandoned his residence in Kánem altogether, ceding it to the Bulála	796-799	1393-1396
Beginning of the reign of ʿAlí Dúnamámi	877	1472
Beginning of the reign of Edrís Katarkamábi	911	1505
Beginning of the reign of Edrís Alawóma	980	1572
Beginning of the reign of Háj ʿOmár	1036	1626-7
Beginning of the reign of ʿAli ben Háj ʿOmár	1055	1645

Having obtained these dates, we have first to observe that to fill up the period from Ayúma to Dhu Yazan, the presumed ancestor of the Séfuwa, and even known as such to Abú ’l Fedá as well as to Makrízí, and whose age (as being that of a man who predicted the coming of the prophet) is fixed beyond all doubt, only six generations are left. This is the circumstance which I mentioned above as speaking greatly in favour of the authenticity of this chronicle and its genealogies, even with regard to the more remote times. For if it had not been necessary to preserve scrupulously a well-established line of succession, how easy it would have been to introduce a few more individuals in order to fill up this blank, as has been done in the other list (b), instead of admitting the palpable nonsense of attributing to the two oldest kings a reign of from two hundred and fifty to three hundred years. Even Séf and Ibrahím, the first two princes of the line, are, I think, quite historical persons, whose existence was so well established that a conscientious chronicler could not change anything in the number of years attributed to the length of their reigns.

Following, therefore, the hints given to us by the chronicle itself, we fix the foundation of the dynasty of the Séfuwa in Kánem about the middle of the third century after Mohammed, or a little before the year 900 of our era. We shall afterwards return to this circumstance.

Now we shall first see how triumphantly the authenticity of the chronicle is confirmed in every respect by the occasional remarks made by Makrízí and Ebn Batúta with regard to the history of Bórnu.

Unfortunately, the oldest date which Makrízí (on the authority, as it would seem, of Ebn Sʿaíd) mentioned with regard to Kánem, namely, an expedition made by its king into the fertile districts of Mábiná in the year H. 650, cannot be used as a sufficient test of the authenticity of the chronicle, as the historian does not mention the name of the king; but the deed itself harmonizes exceedingly well with the warlike and enterprising character of Dúnama Díbalámi, whose reign, according to our chronicle, falls between the years 618 and 658. Just the same is to be said of the fact mentioned by Ebn Khaldún, who, in his valuable history of the Berbers, which has been recently made accessible to all, relates the interesting fact that, among other valuable presents, a giraffe was sent by the King of Kánem (to whom even at that early date he gives the title of “master of Bórnu”) to Abú ʿAbdallah el Mostánser the king of Tunis, in the year of the Hejra 655. The same historian, in another passage of his work, referring to the year 656, mentions again the king of Kánem as having caused the death of a son of Kárakosh el Ghozzi el Modáfferi, the well-known adventurous chieftain who had tried to establish himself in Wadán.

But fortunately we have other data which afford us a very fair test. According to Makrízí, not long after the close of the seventh century of the Hejra (fi hedúd sennet sebʿa mayet), the king of Kánem was Háj Ibrahím; after him reigned his son, el Háj Edrís—the historian does not say expressly that he immediately succeeded his father; then Dáúd, the brother of Edrís, and another son of Ibrahím; then ʿOmár, the son of Dáúd’s elder brother Háj Edrís; and then ʿOthmán, the brother of the former, and another son of Edrís. Makrízí adds that this last-named king reigned shortly before A.H. 800; and then he states that the inhabitants of Kánem revolted against the successors of Ibrahím, and made themselves independent, but that Bórnu remained their kingdom.

All these dates given by Makrízí, as may be seen from the few most important events which I have extracted from the chronicle, are in most surprising harmony with the information conveyed in a dry and sterile but uncorrupted way by the latter. Notwithstanding the slight discrepancy in the order of succession of the later kings, whose reign was of very short duration, and whose relationship is rather perplexing, is it possible to find a harmony more complete than this, if we take into consideration the only way in which Makrízí could have obtained his information, that is to say, from merchants or pilgrims visiting Egypt on their way to Mekka?

We now come to Ebn Batúta; and we again find the same surprising harmony between the fact regarding Bórnu, as mentioned by him, and the dates of the chronicle. The famous and enterprising traveller of Tangiers, on his return-journey from his visit to Western Sudán, left the capital of Mélle or Máli (that is, Mungo Park’s Jára) the 22nd of Moharrem, 754, and, proceeding by way of Timbúktu or Túmbutu, and thence down the Ísa or Niger to Gágho or Gógo, and thence to Tekádda,[44] in speaking about the copper found in the mines near this town, relates that the bars made of it were exported to Góber and Rágha (or rather Ragháy), and also to Bórnu, and then adds the interesting fact that the name of the ruling king of the latter country was Edrís.

Now if we follow implicitly the dates of the chronicle, Edrís ben Ibrahím (Nikále) ascended the throne in that very year (753) when, according to this precious and unimpeachable testimony of the illustrious and intelligent traveller, he actually occupied the throne.

The very remarkable and really surprising harmony here shown to exist between the chronicle and the dates which have come to our knowledge from other sources, will, I hope, give to any unprejudiced mind some degree of confidence in the authenticity of that document, and will make him aware of its superiority over the information of a man like Leo Africanus, or rather Hasen Ebn Mohammed el Wasas, who, though he undoubtedly has, and will always have, the merit of having given to Europe a clear general view of the political and linguistic groups of Central Africa, yet, on account of the manner in which his report was drawn up (merely from memory, after the lapse of many years), cannot be a decisive authority on any special circumstance. Hence, when he states that the name of the king of Bórnu, at the time when he visited the country, was Abraham (Ibrahím), we may confidently assume that he is wrong, and that he speaks of the illustrious conqueror ʿAlí ben Dúnama, who restored peace and glory to that distracted country, and, on account of his warlike character and his various expeditions, obtained the surname el Gházi. I shall return to this subject in the chronological table, in speaking of the reign of ʿAlí ben Dúnama.

As for the document mentioned above as No. 5, it contains a few valuable dates with regard to those Bórnu kings who reigned near the time when the author obtained his information in Tripoli, while for the older times, about which the people could only inform him “par tradition des leurs pères,” his information is of little value. The most important dates which it contains are those which have reference to the time of the accession to the throne of the three Bórnu kings, ʿAbdallah ben Dúnama, Háj ʿOmár, and Háj ʿAlí; and these vary but little from the dates computed from the chronicle, and serve therefore to confirm its accuracy.

However, it is not my design to vindicate this chronicle from all possibility of error; but my object is to show that its general character, dry and meagre as it is, has the strongest claim to authenticity. Indeed I am sure that it can be fully relied upon, all uncertainty being reduced to a space of one or two years; I may therefore be allowed to assert that the chronological table, which I shall give in the Appendix, is something more than a mere fairy tale. But in this place, I think it well to offer a few general remarks on the characteristic features of the history of Bórnu.

I have first to speak of the origin of the Séfuwa or Dúguwa. We have already seen that the chronology of the Bórnu people, if palpable absurdities be left out of consideration, does not carry their history further down than the latter half of the ninth century of our era. Accordingly there can be no further question as to whether Séf was really the son of the celebrated Dhu Yazan, and identical with Séf Dhu Yazan, the last native ruler of the Himyaritic kingdom, who celebrated his accession to the throne in the famous castle of Gumdán, and with the assistance of Khosru Parvis liberated Yeman from the dominion of the Abyssinians. I frankly confess that, while Ibrahím the son of Séf, as “father of the king” (as he appears to have been entitled occasionally), seems to me to have a really historical character, I entertain sincere doubts whether Séf be not a mere imaginary personage, introduced into the pedigree expressly in order to connect it with Yeman. Indeed, in one short list of Bórnu kings which I possess, several princes are mentioned before Séf, whose names, such as Futírmi, Hálar Sukayámi, Halármi, Bunúmi, Rizálmi, Mairími, have quite a Kanúri character. As the reader will see, I do not at all doubt of some connection existing between the ruling family of Bórnu and the Himyaritic or Kushitic stock; but I doubt its immediate descent from the royal Himyaritic family.

But be this as it may, I think that Leo Africanus, who is a very good authority for general relations, is right in stating that the kings of Bórnu originated from the Libyan tribe of the Bardoa, a tribe also mentioned by Makrízí as Berdʿoa. That there is an ethnological connection between the names Bérnu or Bórnu, Bórgu, Berdʿoa, Berdáma, Berauni, Berber, can scarcely be doubted; but to many the Berdʿoa might seem to have nearer relation with the Tedá or Tébu than with the real Berber or Mazígh. Sultan Béllo certainly, in the introduction to his history of the conquests of the Fúlbe, expressly says that the Bórnu dynasty was of Berber origin; and it is on this account that the Háusa people call every Bórnu man “ba-Bérberche,” and the Bórnu nation “Bérbere.” This view of the subject is confirmed by the distinct statement of Makrízí, who says that that was the common tradition of the people at his time—“it is said that they are descended from the Berbers,”—and moreover in another passage informs us that the king of Kánem was a nomade, or wanderer; although it seems that this statement refers properly to the Bulála dynasty.

Before the time of Sélma, or Sélmama, the son of Bíkoru, whose reign began about A.H. 581, the kings are stated by the chronicle to have been of a red complexion, like the Arabs; and to such an origin from the red race, the Syrian-Berber stock, is certainly to be referred their custom of covering the face and never showing the mouth, to which custom Ebn Batúta adverts in speaking of King Edrís, who ruled in his time. To this origin is also to be referred the custom, till recently practised, of putting the new king upon a shield, and raising him up over the heads of the people, as well as the polity of the empire, which originally was entirely aristocratical, based upon a council of twelve chiefs, without whose assent nothing of importance could be undertaken by the king.

We have a very curious statement concerning the Bórnu empire, emanating from Lucas, the traveller employed by the African Association, and based on the authority of his Arab informants, principally Ben ʿAlí, who no doubt was a very clever and intelligent man. He describes the Bórnu kingdom as an elective monarchy, the privilege of choosing a successor among the sons of a deceased king, without regard to priority of birth, being conferred by the nation on three of the most distinguished men of the country. He does not say whether these belonged to the courtiers, or whether every private individual might be called upon promiscuously to fulfil this important duty; but the strict etiquette of the court of Bórnu makes it probable that the former was the case. Be this as it may, the choice being made, the three electors proceeded to the apartment of the sovereign elect, and conducted him in silence to the gloomy place in which the unburied corpse of his deceased father was deposited; for till this whole ceremony was gone through the deceased could not be interred. There, over the corpse of his deceased father, the newly elected king seems to have entered into some sort of compromise sanctioned by oath, binding himself that he would respect the ancient institutions, and employ himself for the glory of the country.

I shall have to mention a similar custom still prevailing at the present day in the province of Múniyó, which belonged to that part of the empire called Yerí, while the dynasty of the Múniyóma probably descended from the Berber race. Every newly elected Múniyóma, still at the present day, is in duty bound to remain for seven days in a cave hollowed out by nature, or by the hand of man, in the rock behind the place of sepulchre of the former Múniyóma, in the ancient town of Gámmasak, although it is quite deserted at present, and does not contain a living soul.

But that not only the royal family, but even a great part of the whole nation, or rather one of the nations which were incorporated into the Bórnu empire, was of Berber origin, is still clear so late as the time of Edrís Alawóma, that is to say, only two centuries and a half ago; for in the report of his expeditions, constant mention is made of the Berber tribes (“kabáíl el Beráber”) as a large component part of his army, and constantly two parts of this army are distinguished as the Reds, “el Áhhmar,” and the Blacks, “eʾ Súd.” This part of the population of Bórnu has separated from the rest, I suspect in consequence of the policy of ʿAlí, the son and successor of Háj ʿOmár, a very warlike prince, who, in the second half of the seventeenth century, waged a long war with Ágades.

Viewed in the light thus shed by past history, the continual and uninterrupted warlike expeditions made by the Tuarek at the present time against the northern regions of Bórnu and against Kánem assume quite a new and far more interesting character. Now if it be objected that the Kanúri or Bórnu language does not appear to contain any Berber elements (which indeed it does not), I have only to adduce the exactly parallel example of the Bulála, a brother dynasty of the Bórnu royal family, descended from the same stock, who, having settled and founded a dynasty among the tribe of the Kúka, in the territory of Fíttri, still continue to speak their native language, that is the Kanúri, in the time of Leo,[45] but have now entirely forgotten it, adopting the language of the people over whom they ruled; and similar examples are numerous.

A second point which deserves notice is, that the Kanúri even at the present day call people in general, but principally their kings, always after the name of their mother, and that the name of the mother’s tribe is almost continually added in the chronicle as a circumstance of the greatest importance. Thus the famous king Dúnama ben Selmʿaa is known in Bórnu generally only under the name of Díbalámi, from the name of his mother Díbala; and the full form of his royal title is Díbalámi Dúnama Selmámi, his mother’s name, as the most noble and important, preceding his individual name, which is followed by the name derived from his father. It is also evident, even from the dry and jejune report of the chronicle, what powerful influence the Walíde or “Mágira”—this is her native title—exercised in the affairs of the kingdom; I need only mention the examples of Gúmsu (“gúmsu” means the chief wife) Fasámi, who imprisoned her son Bíri, when already king, for a whole year, and of Áʿaishad or ʿAisa, the mother of Edrís, who for a number of years exercised such paramount authority, that in some lists, and even by many ʿulama at the present time, her name is inserted in the list of the sovereigns of the country.

These circumstances may be best explained by supposing that a kind of compromise took place between the strangers—Berbers, or rather Imóshagh (Mazígh) from the tribe of the Berdʿoa—and the tribe or tribes among whom they settled, just in the same manner as we have seen that a stipulation of the same kind was probably made between the conquering Kél-owí and the ancient inhabitants of Aír of the Góber race; and the same circumstances, with similar results, are observable in ancient times, in the relations subsisting between the Grecian colonists and the original inhabitants of Lycia.

The most important among the indigenous tribes of Kánem are the Kíye or Beni Kíya, also mentioned in the time of Edrís Alawóma, the Meghármah, who may possibly be identical with the Ghemármah, the Temághera (evidently a Berber name), the Débiri, the Kúnkuna, at present established in Kárgá, and finally the Tébu or Tubu, or rather Tedá. Of all these the last-named constituted by far the most important and most numerous tribe. To them belonged the mother of Dúnama ben Humé, the most powerful of the older kings of Bórnu, who appears to have thrice performed the pilgrimage to Mekka. Indeed it would seem that the real talisman which Díbalámi Dúnama Selmámi spoiled consisted in the friendly relation between the Berauni or Kanúri and the Tébu, which was so intimate that the name of Berauni, which originally belonged to the inhabitants of Bórnu, is still at present the common name given by the Tuarek to the Tébu; or rather, the latter are a race intimately related to the original stock of the Kanúri, as must become evident to every unprejudiced mind that investigates their language.

How powerful a tribe the Tedá were, is sufficiently shown by the length of the war which they carried on with that very king Dúnama Selmámi, and which is said to have lasted more than seven years. Indeed, it would seem as if it had been only by the assistance of this powerful tribe that the successors of Jíl Shikomémi were able to found the powerful dynasty of the Bulála, and to lay the foundation of the great empire called by Leo Gaoga, comprehending all the eastern and north-eastern parts of the old empire of Kánem, and extending at times as far as Dóngola, so that in the beginning of the sixteenth century it was larger than Bórnu. Even in the latter half of the sixteenth century, the Tedá appears to have constituted a large proportion of the military force of the Bulála in Kánem; and great numbers of them are said, by the historian of the powerful king Edrís Alawóma, to have emigrated from Kánem into Bórnu, in consequence of the victories obtained by that prince over the Bulála. At that time they seem to have settled principally in the territories of the Koyám, a tribe very often mentioned in the book of Imám Ahmed as forming part of the Bórnu army, and with whom at present they are completely intermixed. It is very remarkable, that neither by the chronicle, nor by the historian of Edrís Alawóma, the large tribe of the Mánga, which evidently formed a very considerable element in the formation of the Bórnu nation, is ever once mentioned.

While the tribes above enumerated were more or less absorbed by the empire of Kánem, and, in the course of time, adopted the Mohammedan religion professed by its rulers, there was on the other hand a very numerous indigenous tribe which did not become amalgamated with the conquering element, but, on the contrary, continued to repel it in a hostile manner, and for a long time threatened its very existence. These were the “Soy” or “Só,” a tribe settled originally in the vast territory enclosed towards the north and north-west by the komádugu Wáube, erroneously called the Yeou, and towards the east by the Shári, and divided, as it would seem, into several small kingdoms.

This powerful tribe was not completely subjugated before the time of Edrís Alawóma, or the latter part of the sixteenth century; and it might be matter of surprise that they are not mentioned at all by the chronicle before the middle of the fourteenth century, if it were not that even circumstances and facts of the very greatest importance are passed over in silence by this arid piece of nomenclature. It would therefore be very inconsistent to conclude from this silence, that before the period mentioned the princes of Kánem had never come into contact with the tribe of the Soy; the reason why the chronicle, sparing as it is of information, could not any longer pass them over in silence, was that in the space of three years they had vanquished and killed four successive kings. The places mentioned in the list, where the first three of these princes were slain, cannot be identified with absolute certainty; but as for Nánighám, where Mohammed ben ʿAbdallah was killed, it certainly lay close to, and probably in, the territory of the Soy. After this period we learn nothing with regard to this tribe until the time of Edrís Alawóma, although it seems probable that Edrís Nikálemi, the successor of Mohammed ben ʿAbdallah, and the contemporary of Ebn Batúta, had first to gain a victory over the Soy, before he was able to sit down quietly upon his throne.

Altogether, in the history of Bórnu we can distinguish the following epochs. First, the rise of power in Kánem, Njímiye being the capital of the empire, silent and imperceptible till we see on a sudden, in the beginning of the twelfth century, the powerful prince Dúnama ben Humé start forth under the impulse of Islám, wielding the strength of a young and vigorous empire, and extending his influence as far as Egypt. The acme, or highest degree of prosperity, of this period coincides with the reign of Díbalámi Dúnama Selmámi, in the middle of the thirteenth century, during the prime of the dynasty of the Beni Háfis in Tunis. But this reign already engendered the germs of decay; for during it the two cognate elements of which the empire consisted, namely the Tedá and the Kanúri, were disunited, and it yielded too much influence to the aristocratical element, which was represented by the twelve great offices, an institution which seems to deserve particular attention.

The consequence was, that a series of civil wars and regicides ensued, interrupted only by the more tranquil reign of Ibrahím Nikálemi in the first half of the fourteenth century, which was followed, however, by the most unfortunate period of the empire, when the great native tribe of the Soy burst forth and killed four kings in succession. Then followed another respite from turmoil, just at the time when Ebn Batúta visited Negroland; but the son of the very king who in the time of that distinguished traveller ruled over Bórnu fell the first victim in the struggle that ensued with a power which had arisen from the same root, had gained strength during the civil wars of Bórnu, and which now threatened to swallow it up altogether. This was the dynasty of the Bulála, which, originating with the fugitive Bórnu prince Jíl Shikomémi, had established itself in the district of Fíttri over the tribe of the Kúka, and from thence spread its dominion in every direction till, after a sanguinary struggle, it conquered Kánem, and forced the Kanúri dynasty to seek refuge in the western provinces of its empire, about the year 1400 of our era.

The Bórnu empire (if we may give the name of empire to the shattered host of a belligerent tribe driven from their home and reduced to a few military encampments) for the next seventy years seemed likely to go to pieces altogether, till the great king ʿAli Dúnamámi opened another glorious period; for having at length mastered the aristocratical element, which had almost overwhelmed the monarchy, he founded as a central point of government a new capital or “bírni,” Ghasréggomo, the empire having been without a fixed centre since the abandonment of Njímiye. It was in his time that Leo Africanus visited Negroland, where he found the Bulála empire (Gaoga) still in the ascendant: but this was changed in the beginning of the sixteenth century, even before the publication of his account; for in the hundred and twenty-second (lunar) year from the time when ʿOmár was compelled to abandon his royal seat in Njímiye, ceding the rich country of Kánem, the very nucleus of the empire, to his rivals, the energetic king Edrís Katakarmábi entered that capital again with his victorious army, and from that time down to the beginning of the present century Kánem has remained a province of Bórnu, although it was not again made the seat of government.

Altogether the sixteenth century is one of the most glorious periods of the Bórnu empire, adorned as it is by such able princes as the two Edrís and Mohammed, while in Western Negroland the great Sónghay empire went to pieces, and was finally subjugated by Mulay Hámed el Mansúr, the Emperor of Morocco. Then followed a quieter period, and old age seemed gradually to gain on the kingdom, while pious and peaceful kings occupied the throne, till in the middle of the last century the energetic and enterprising king ʿAli ʿOmármi began a violent struggle against that very nation from which the Bórnu dynasty had sprung, but which had now become its most fearful enemy—the Imóshagh or Tuarek. He made great exertions in every direction; but his efforts seem to have resembled the convulsions of death, and being succeeded by an indolent king, for such was Ahmed, the fatal hour, which was to accomplish the extinction of the dynasty of the Séfuwa, rapidly approached. At last, when the very centre of the empire had already fallen a prey to a new nation which had started forth on a career of glory, the Fúlbe or Felláta, there arose a stranger, a nationalized Arab, who, in saving the last remains of the kingdom, founded a new dynasty, that of the Kánemíyín, which, after having shone forth very brightly under its founder, was recently reduced by civil discord, and seems now destined to a premature old age.

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I shall now give an account of my stay in Kúkawa before setting out on my journey to Ádamáwa. Regarding Kúkawa only as the basis of my further proceedings, and as a necessary station already sufficiently known to the European public by the long stay of the former expedition, I endeavoured to collect as much information as possible with regard to the surrounding countries. Two of my friends were distinguished by a good deal of Mohammedan learning, by the precision with which they recollected the countries they had wandered through, and by dignified manners; but they differed much in character, and were inclined to quarrel with each other as often as they happened to meet in my house.

These two men, to whom I am indebted for a great deal of interesting and precise information, were the Arab Ahmed bel Mejúb, of that division of the tribe of the Welád bu-Sebʿa who generally live in the Wady Sákiyet el Hamra, to the south of Morocco, and the Púllo Ibrahím son of the Sheikh el Mukhtár, in Kaháide on the Senegal, and cousin of the late Mohammed el Amín, the energetic prince of Fúta-Tóro. Ahmed had travelled over almost the whole of Western Africa, from Arguín on the ocean as far as Bagírmi, and had spent several years in Ádamáwa, of which country he first gave me an exact description, especially with regard to the direction of the rivers. He was a shrewd and very intelligent man; yet he was one of those Arabs who go round all the courts of the princes of Negroland, to whatever creed or tribe they may belong, and endeavour to obtain from them all they can by begging and by the parade of learning. I esteemed him on account of his erudition, but not in other respects.

Quite a different person was the Púllo Ibrahím—a very proud young man, fully aware of the ascendency, and strongly marked with the distinguishing character, of the nation to which he belonged. He had performed the pilgrimage to Mekka, crossing the whole breadth of Africa from west to east, from warm religious feeling mixed up with a little ambition, as he knew that such an exploit would raise him highly in the esteem of his countrymen, and secure to him a high position in life. He had been two years a hostage in Ndér (St. Louis), and knew something about the Europeans. It had struck him that the French were not so eager in distributing bibles as the English, while he had truly remarked that the former were very sensible of the charms of the softer sex, and very frequently married the pretty daughters of the Dembaséga. He obtained from me, first the Zabúr, or the Psalms of David, which even the Arabs esteem very highly, and would esteem much more if they were translated into a better sort of Arabic, and afterwards the whole Bible, which he wished to take with him on his long land journey.

The Arabs and the Fúlbe, as is well known, are in almost continual warfare all along the line from the Senegal as far as Timbúktu; and it was most interesting for me to see him and Ahmed in violent altercation about the advantages of their respective nations, while I was thereby afforded an excellent means of appreciating their reports with regard to the state of the tribes and countries along the Senegal. The way in which they began to communicate to me their information was in itself expressive of their respective characters, Ahmed protesting that, before he dared to communicate with me, he was compelled to ask the permission of the vizier, while Ibrahím laughed at him, declaring that he felt himself fully authorized to give me any information about Negroland. Ibrahím became an intimate friend of mine, and took a lively interest in me, particularly commiserating my lonely situation in a foreign country, far from home, without the consolations of female companionship.

As an example of the risks which European travellers may incur by giving medicines to natives to administer to themselves at home, I will relate the following incident. Ibrahím told me one day that he wanted some cooling medicine; and I gave him two strong doses of Epsom salts, to use occasionally. He then complained the following day that he was suffering from worms; and when I told him that the Epsom salts would not have the effect of curing this complaint, but that worm-powder would, he begged me to give him some of the latter; and I gave him three doses to use on three successive days. However, my poor friend, though an intelligent man, thought that it might not be amiss to take all this medicine at once, viz. four ounces of Epsom salts and six drachms of worm-powder; and the reader may imagine the effect which this dose produced upon a rather slender man. Unfortunately, I had just taken a ride out of the town; and he remained for full two days in a most desperate state, while his friends, who had sent in vain to my house to obtain my assistance, were lamenting to all the people that the Christian had killed their companion, the pious pilgrim.

Besides these two men, there were many interesting strangers at that time in Kúkawa, from whom I learnt more or less. Some of them I shall here mention, as their character and story will afford the reader a glance at one side of life in Negroland. A man who had performed travels of an immense extent, from Khórasán in the east as far as Sansándi in the west, and from Tripoli and Morocco in the north as far as Asiantí and Jenakhéra and Fertít towards the south, would have been of great service, if he had preserved an exact recollection of all the routes which he had followed in his devious wanderings; but as it was, I could only gather from him some general information, the most interesting part of which had reference to Mósi or rather Móre, a large and populous country known by name already, from Sultan Béllo’s curious communications to Captain Clapperton, but always misplaced in the maps, and its capital Wóghodoghó.

This enterprising man, who generally travelled as a dervish, had gone from Sofára on the Máyo balléo or Niger, between Hamdalláhi and Ségo, across a most unsettled country, to Wóghodoghó; but he was unable to give me any precise details with regard to it, and I never met another person who had travelled this dangerous route. He had also travelled all along the pagan states to the south of Bagírmi and Wadáy, and advised me strongly, if it were my plan to penetrate to the Upper Nile (as, indeed, I then intended, notwithstanding my total want of means), to adopt the character of a dervish, which he deemed essential for my success. But while such a character might, indeed, insure general success, it would preclude the possibility of making any accurate observations, and would render necessary the most painful, if not insupportable, privations. And on the whole this poor fellow was less fortunate than I; for in the year 1854 he was slain on that very route from Yóla to Kúkawa which I myself had twice passed successfully. He was a native of Baghdád, and called himself Sheríf Ahmed el Baghdádi.

There was another singular personage, a native of Sennár, who had been a clerk in the Turkish army, but, as malicious tongues gave out, had been too fond of the cash entrusted to his care, and absconded. He afterwards resided some years in Wadáy, where he had drilled a handful of the sultan’s slaves, had come to this kingdom to try his fortune, and was now about to be sent to Wadáy by the sheikh of Bórnu, as a spy, to see if the prince of that country had still any design of recommencing hostilities. From all persons of this description the traveller may learn a great deal; and, intriguing fellows as they generally are, and going from court to court spreading reports everywhere, prudence requires that he should keep on tolerably good terms with them.

Most interesting and instructive was a host of pilgrims from different parts of Másena or Mélle, partly Fúlbe, partly Sónghay, who having heard of the white man, and of his anxiety to collect information respecting all parts of the continent, came repeatedly to me to contribute each his share. I used to regale them with coffee, while they gave me ample opportunities of comparing and testing their statements. The most interesting and best informed amongst them, were Bu-Bakr, a native of Hamdalláhi, the capital of the sheikh (sekho) Ahmedu ben Ahmedu, who, having made a pilgrimage to Mekka, had long resided in Yeman, and was now returning homeward with a good deal of knowledge; and another cheerful and simple-hearted old man from Sá on the Ísa or Niger, between Hamdalláhi and Timbúktu. Indeed, as the report of Ahmed bel Mejúb about Ádamáwa had confirmed me in my determination to sacrifice everything in order to visit that country as soon as possible, so the manifold information of these people with respect to the countries on the middle course of the so-called Niger excited in me a most ardent desire to execute the design, previously but vaguely entertained, of accomplishing also a journey westward to Timbúktu.

Among my Bórnu friends at this time, the most instructive were Shitíma Makarémma and Ámsakay. The former, who had been a courtier under the old dynasty, and who had saved his life by his intrigues, was a very intelligent old man, but an acknowledged rascal to whom unnatural vices, which seem in general entirely unknown in these regions, were imputed. Nevertheless he was the only man who was master of all the history of the old dynasty; and he spoke the Kanúri language with such exquisite beauty as I have never heard from anybody else. He had two very handsome daughters, whom he succeeded in marrying, one to the vizier and one to his adversary, ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán; but in December 1853 he was executed, together with the vizier, but on totally different grounds, as having long forfeited his life. Quite a different sort of man was Ámsakay, a simple Kánemma chief, who has been represented in one of my sketches. He had formerly distinguished himself by his expeditions against the Búdduma, till those enterprising islanders succeeded in conciliating him by the gift of one of their handsome daughters for a wife, when he became half settled amongst them.

I had also some interesting pagan instructors, among whom I will only mention Agíd Búrku, a very handsome youth, but who had undergone the horrible process of castration. The abolition of this practice in the Mohammedan world ought to be the first object of Christian governments and missionaries, not merely on account of the unnatural and desecrated state to which it reduces a human being, but on account of the dreadful character of the operation itself, which, in these countries at least, is the reason why scarcely one in ten survives it. With extreme delight Agíd Búrku dwelt upon the unconstrained nudity in which his countrymen indulged, and with great naïveté described a custom of the Pagans, which is identical with a custom of the civilized Europeans, but is an abomination in the eyes of every Mohammedan. He had wandered about a good deal in the southern provinces of Bagírmi and Wadáy, and gave me the first information about the interesting mountain-group near Kénga Matáya.

But I must principally dwell upon my relations to the vizier el Háj Beshír ben Ahmed Tiráb, upon whose benevolent disposition the whole success of the mission depended, as he ruled entirely the mind of the sheikh, who was more sparing of words, and less intelligent. Mohammed el Beshír, being the son of the most influential man in Bórnu after the sheikh, enjoyed all the advantages which such a position could offer for the cultivation of his mind, which was by nature of a superior cast. He had gone on a pilgrimage to Mekka in the year 1843, by way of Ben-Gházi, when he had an opportunity both of showing the Arabs near the coast that the inhabitants of the interior of the continent are superior to the beasts, and of getting a glimpse of a higher state of civilization than he had been able to observe in his own country.

Having thus learned to survey the world collectively from a new point of view, and with an increased eagerness after everything foreign and marvellous, he returned to his native country, where he soon had an opportunity of proving his talent, his father being slain in the unfortunate battle at Kúsuri, and Sheikh ʿOmár, a fugitive in his native country, having much need of a faithful counsellor in his embarrassed situation. The sheikh was beset by a powerful and victorious host, encamping in the largest of the towns of his kingdom, while the party of the old dynasty was rising again, and not only withdrawing from him the best forces wherewith to face the enemy, but threatening his very existence, at the same time that a brother was standing in fierce rivalry to him at the head of a numerous army. Sheikh ʿOmár was successful, the host of Wadáy was obliged to withdraw, and, abandoning the purpose for which they had come, namely, that of re-establishing the old dynasty, commenced a difficult retreat of many hundred miles at the beginning of the rainy season; the partisans of the old dynasty were entirely crushed, the last prince of that family slain, the residence of the sultans levelled to the ground, and even the remembrance of the old times was almost effaced. There remained to be feared only his brother ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán. ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán was a good soldier, but a man of a very loose and violent character. When a youth he had committed all sorts of violence and injustice, carrying off young brides by force, to indulge his passions: he was besides a man of little intelligence. But being but a few months younger than ʿOmár, he thought himself equally entitled to the succession; and if once admitted into a high position in the empire, he might be expected to abuse his influence on the very first opportunity.

Sheikh ʿOmár, therefore, could not but choose to confide rather in the intelligent son of his old minister, the faithful companion in the field and counsellor of his father, than in his own fierce and jealous brother; and all depended upon the behaviour of Háj Beshír, and upon the discretion with which he should occupy and maintain his place as first, or rather only minister of the kingdom. Assuredly his policy should have been to conciliate, as much as possible, all the greater “kokanáwa” or courtiers, in order to undermine the influence of ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, whom it might be wise to keep at a respectful distance. But in this respect the vizier seems to have made great mistakes, his covetousness blinding him to his principal advantages; for covetous he certainly was—first, from the love of possessing, and also in order to indulge his luxurious disposition, for he was certainly rather “kamúma,” that is to say, extremely fond of the fair sex, and had a harím of from three to four hundred female slaves.

In assembling this immense number of female companions for the entertainment of his leisure hours, he adopted a scientific principle; in fact, a credulous person might suppose that he regarded his harím only from a scientific point of view;—as a sort of ethnological museum—doubtless of a peculiarly interesting kind—which he had brought together in order to impress upon his memory the distinguishing features of each tribe. I have often observed that, in speaking with him of the different tribes of Negroland, he was at times struck with the novelty of a name, lamenting that he had not yet had a specimen of that tribe in his harím, and giving orders at once to his servants to endeavour to procure a perfect sample of the missing kind. I remember, also, that on showing to him one day an illustrated ethnological work in which he took a lively interest, and coming to a beautiful picture of a Circassian female, he told me, with an expression of undisguised satisfaction, that he had a living specimen of that kind; and when, forgetting the laws of Mohammedan etiquette, I was so indiscreet as to ask him whether she was as handsome as the picture, he answered only with a smile, at once punishing and pardoning my indiscreet question. I must also say that, notwithstanding the great number and variety of the women who shared his attention, he seemed to take a hearty interest in each of them: at least I remember that he grieved most sincerely for the loss of one who died in the winter of 1851. Poor Háj Beshír! He was put to death in the last month of 1853, leaving seventy-three sons alive, not counting the daughters, and the numbers of children which may be supposed to die in such an establishment without reaching maturity.

But to return to his political character. I said that he neglected to attach to himself the more powerful of the courtiers, with whose assistance he might have hoped to keep the rival brother of Sheikh ʿOmár at some distance; indeed, he even alienated them by occasional, and sometimes injudicious use of his almost unlimited power, obliging them, for instance, to resign to him a handsome female slave or a fine horse. If he had possessed great personal courage and active powers, he might have mastered circumstances and kept his post, notwithstanding the ill-will of all around him; but he wanted those qualities, as the result shows: and yet, well aware of the danger which threatened him, he was always on his guard, having sundry loaded pistols and carbines always around him, upon and under his carpet. Shortly before I arrived, an arrow had been shot at him in the evening, while he was sitting in his courtyard.

I have peculiar reason to thank Providence for having averted the storm which was gathering over his head during my stay in Bórnu, for my intimacy with him might very easily have involved me also in the calamities which befell him. However, I repeat that altogether he was a most excellent, kind, liberal, and just man, and might have done much good to the country, if he had been less selfish and more active. He was incapable, indeed, of executing by himself any act of severity, such as in the unsettled state of a semi-barbarous kingdom may at times be necessary; and, being conscious of his own mildness, he left all those matters to a man named Lamíno, to whom I gave the title of “the shameless left hand of the vizier,” and whom I shall have frequent occasion to mention.

I pressed upon the vizier the necessity of defending the northern frontier of Bórnu against the Tuarek by more effectual measures than had been then adopted, and thus retrieving, for cultivation and the peaceable abode of his fellow-subjects, the fine borders of the komádugu, and restoring security to the road to Fezzán. Just about this time the Tuarek had made another expedition into the border-districts on a large scale, so that Kashélla Belál, the first of the war chiefs, was obliged to march against them; and the road to Kanó, which I, with my usual good luck, had passed unmolested, had become so unsafe that a numerous caravan was plundered, and a well-known Arab merchant, the Sheríf el Gháli, killed.

I remonstrated with him on the shamefully neglected state of the shores of the lake, which contained the finest pasture-grounds, and might yield an immense quantity of rice and cotton. He entered with spirit into all my proposals; but in a short time all was forgotten. He listened with delight to what little historical knowledge I had of these countries, and inquired particularly whether Kánem had really been in former times a mighty kingdom, or whether it would be worth retaking. It was in consequence of these conversations that he began to take an interest in the former history of the country, and that the historical records of Edrís Alawóma came to light; but he would not allow me to take them into my hands, and I could only read over his shoulders. He was a very religious man; and though he admired Europeans very much on account of their greater accomplishments, he was shocked to think that they drank intoxicating liquors. However, I tried to console him by telling him that, although the Europeans were also very partial to the fair sex, yet they did not indulge in this luxury on so large a scale as he did, and that therefore he ought to allow them some other little pleasure.

He was very well aware of the misery connected with the slave-trade; for on his pilgrimage to Mekka, in the mountainous region between Fezzán and Ben-Gházi he had lost, in one night, forty of his slaves by the extreme cold, and he swore that he would never take slaves for sale, if he were to travel again. But it was more difficult to make him sensible of the horrors of slave-hunting, although, when accompanying him on the expedition to Músgu, I and Mr. Overweg urged this subject with more success, as the further progress of my narrative will show. He was very desirous to open a commerce with the English, although he looked with extreme suspicion upon the form of articles in which the treaty was proposed to be drawn up; but he wished to forbid to Christians the sale of two things, viz. spirituous liquors and bibles. He did not object to bibles being brought into the country, and even given as presents; but he would not allow of their being sold. But the difficulties which I had to contend with in getting the treaty signed will be made more conspicuous as my narrative proceeds.

The most pressing matter which I had with the vizier in the first instance, after my arrival, was to obtain some money, in order to settle, at least partly, the just claims of the late Mr. Richardson’s servants, and to clear off debts which reflected little credit on the Government which had sent us. I could scarcely expect that he would lend me the money without any profit, and was therefore glad to obtain it at the rate of 1000 cowries, or kúngona as they are called in Bórnu, for a dollar, to be paid in Fezzán; and I lost very little by the bargain, as the creditors, well aware of the great difficulty I was in, and acknowledging my desire to pay them off, agreed to receive for every dollar of the sum which they claimed, only 1,280 cowries, while in the market the dollar fetched a much higher price. Indeed it was most grateful to my feelings to be enabled, on the 13th of April, to distribute among the eight creditors 70,000 shells; and it was the more agreeable, as the more arrogant among them, seeing my extreme poverty, had assumed a tone of great insolence towards me, which I found it difficult to support in silence. Being now relieved a little in circumstances, I immediately rid myself of the carpenter, the grandiloquent Son of Jerusalem, and sent him away. He died on the road before reaching Múrzuk—a fact which the natives attributed to the curse which I had given him for having stolen something from my house.

My household now became more comfortable. Already, on the 10th of April, late in the evening, I had removed my quarters from the large empty courtyard in the eastern town, or bílla gedíbe, to a small clay house in the western, or bílla futébe. This dwelling consisted of several small but neatly made rooms, and a yard. Afterwards we succeeded in obtaining in addition an adjoining yard, which was very spacious, and included several thatched huts; and all this together formed “the English house,” which the sheikh was kind enough to concede to the English mission as long as anybody should be left there to take care of it. Its situation was very favourable, as will be seen from the plan on page 380, being situated almost in the middle of the town, and nevertheless out of the way of the great thoroughfares; the internal arrangement is shown in the woodcut on next page.

I immediately took possession of the room No. 8, which, although very small, was altogether the best, and was very cool during the hot hours of the day. Mr. Vogel too, when he afterwards arrived, immediately fixed upon this room. There was a most splendid kórna-tree in the neighbouring courtyard, which spread its shade over the terrace of this room, and over part of the small courtyard in front of it. In our own yard we had only a very fine specimen of a chédia or caoutchouc-tree (in the first yard, No. 3), which was afterwards a little damaged by Mr. Overweg’s monkeys, besides two very small kórna-trees in the great yard around the huts Nos. 16 and 17. Having thus made myself as comfortable as possible, I began without delay to dig a well in the small court before the house, as we had to fetch the water from another well at some distance, which was much used by the people. My attempt caused some amusement to the vizier, who soon heard of it, and recognized in it a feature of the European character; for digging a well is no small undertaking in Kúkawa, although water is to be found at only nine fathoms depth; for the ground, consisting of loose sand under an upper thin layer of clay, is very apt to fall in, while the slender boughs with which the shaft is upheld, offer but little resistance. We had a great deal of trouble with our well, not only in constantly repairing it, but in the course of our stay we were thrice obliged to change the spot and dig a new well altogether. We should have been glad to set an example to the natives by building up our shaft with bricks; but with our scanty means, or rather our entire want of means, we could scarcely think of undertaking such a costly work. At a later period Mr. Overweg found a layer of shell lime in a spot of our courtyard, and got our house neatly whitewashed. The great point in this place is to protect oneself against the countless swarms of fleas which cover the ground, the best preservative being considered a frequent besmearing of the walls and the floor with cowdung. The large white ant too is most troublesome; and sugar particularly is kept with difficulty from its voracious attacks. Our rooms swarmed also with bugs, “bermáde,” but I am almost afraid that we ourselves imported them with our books. The bug, however, in Bórnu is not regarded as that nasty insect which creates so much loathing in civilized countries; on the contrary, the native thinks its smell aromatic.

My poor Kátsena nag, the present of the extraordinary governor of that place, almost against my expectation, had successfully carried me as far as Kúkawa, but at that point it was quite exhausted, wanting at least some months’ repose. I was, therefore, without a horse, and was obliged at first to walk on foot, which was very trying in the deep sand and hot weather. I had once entreated the vizier to lend me a horse, but Lamíno had in consequence sent me such a miserable animal that I declined mounting it. The sheikh being informed afterwards that I was bargaining for a horse, sent me one as a present; it was tall and well-formed, but of a colour which I did not like, and very lean, having just come from the country where it had got no corn, so that it was unfit for me, as I wanted a strong animal, ready to undergo a great deal of fatigue. I was already preparing for my journey to Ádamáwa, and having made the acquaintance of Mʿallem Katúri, a native of Yákoba, or rather, as the town is generally called, Garún Báuchi, and an excellent man, who had accompanied several great ghazzias in that country, and particularly that most remarkable one of Amba-Sambo, the governor of Chámba, as far as the Igbo country, at the delta of the Niger, I hired him and bought for his use a strong good travelling horse. I bought also a tolerable pony for my servant, Mohammed ben Sʿad, so that, having now three horses at my command, I entered with spirit upon my career as an explorer of Negroland. All this of course was done by contracting a few little debts.

The vizier, who was well aware of the difficulties and dangers attending my proposed excursion to Ádamáwa, was rather inclined to send me to the Músgu country, whither it was intended to dispatch an expedition, under the command of Kashélla Belál; but fortunately for me, and perhaps, also, for our knowledge of this part of the continent, the design was frustrated by an inroad of the Tuarek, which demanded the presence of this officer, the most warlike of the empire. This incursion of the plundering Kindín was made by a considerable body of men; who, having in vain tried to surprise some town on the frontier of Bórnu, turned their march towards Kánem, and went as far as Báteli, where, however, they met with but little success.

Having now a horse whereon to mount, I rode every day, either into the eastern town to pay a visit to the sheikh, or to the vizier, or roving around the whole circuit of the capital, and peeping into the varied scenes which the life of the people exhibited. The precincts of the town with its suburbs are just as interesting as its neighbourhood (especially during the months that precede the rainy season) is monotonous and tiresome in the extreme. Certainly, the arrangement of the capital contributes a great deal to the variety of the picture which it forms, laid out as it is in two distinct towns each surrounded with its wall, the one, occupied chiefly by the rich and wealthy, containing very large establishments, while the other, with the exception of the principal thoroughfare, which traverses the town from west to east, consists of rather crowded dwellings, with narrow winding lanes. These two distinct towns are separated by a space about half a mile broad, itself thickly inhabited on both sides of a wide open road which forms the connection between them, but laid out less regularly, and presenting to the eye a most interesting medley of large clay buildings and small thatched huts, of massive clay walls surrounding immense yards, and light fences of reeds in a more or less advanced state of decay, and with a variety of colour, according to their age, from the brightest yellow down to the deepest black. All around these two towns there are small villages or clusters of huts, and large detached farms surrounded with clay walls, low enough to allow a glimpse from horseback over the thatched huts which they enclose.

In this labyrinth of dwellings a man, interested in the many forms which human life presents, may rove about at any time of the day with the certainty of finding never-failing amusement, although the life of the Kanúri people passes rather monotonously along, with the exception of some occasional feasting. During the hot hours, indeed, the town and its precincts become torpid, except on market-days, when the market-place itself, at least, and the road leading to it from the western gate, are most animated just at that time. For, singular as it is, in Kúkawa, as well as almost all over this part of Negroland, the great markets do not begin to be well attended till the heat of the day grows intense; and it is curious to observe what a difference prevails in this as well as in other respects between these countries and Yóruba, where almost all the markets are held in the cool of the evening.

The daily little markets, or durríya, even in Kúkawa, are held in the afternoon, and are most frequented between the ʿaser (lásari) and the mughreb (almágribu) or sunset. The most important of these durríyas is that held inside the west gate of the bílla futébe; and here even camels, horses, and oxen are sold in considerable numbers; but they are much inferior to the large fair, or great market, which is held every Monday on the open ground beyond the two villages which lie at a short distance from the western gate. Formerly it was held on the road to Ngórnu, before the southern gate; but it has been removed from thence on account of the large pond of water formed during the rainy season in the hollow close to this gate.

I visited the great fair, “kásukú letenínbe,” every Monday immediately after my arrival, and found it very interesting, as it calls together the inhabitants of all the eastern parts of Bórnu, the Shúwa and the Koyám, with their corn and butter; the former, though of Arab origin and still preserving in purity his ancient character, always carrying his merchandise on the back of oxen, the women mounted upon the top of it, while the African Koyám employs the camel, if not exclusively, at least with a decided preference;[46] the Kánembú with their butter and dried fish, the inhabitants of Mákari with their tobes (the kóre berné): even Búdduma, or rather Yédiná are very often seen in the market, selling whips made from the skin of the hippopotamus, or sometimes even hippopotamus meat, or dried fish, and attract the attention of the spectator by their slender figures, their small handsome features unimpaired by any incisions, the men generally wearing a short black shirt and a small straw hat, “súni ngáwa,” their neck adorned with several strings of kúngona, or shells, while the women are profusely ornamented with strings of glass beads, and wear their hair in a very remarkable way, though not in so awkward a fashion as Mr. Overweg afterwards observed in the island Belárigo.

On reaching the market-place from the town, the visitor first comes to that part where the various materials for constructing the light dwellings of the country are sold, such as mats, of three different kinds, the thickest, which I have mentioned above as lágará, then síggedí, or the common coarse mat made of the reed called kalkálti, and the búshi, made of dúm-leaves, or “ngílle,” for lying upon; poles and stakes; the framework, “léggerá,” for the thatched roofs of huts, and the ridge-beam or “késkan súmo”; then oxen for slaughter “fé debáterám,” or for carrying burdens, “knému lápterám”; further on, long rows of leathern bags filled with corn, ranging far along on the south side of the market-place, with either “kéwa,” the large bags for the camel, a pair of which form a regular camel’s load, or the large “jerábu,” which is thrown across the back of the pack-oxen, or the smaller “fállim,” a pair of which constitute an ox-load, “kátkun knémube.” These long rows are animated not only by the groups of the sellers and buyers, with their weatherworn figures and torn dresses, but also by the beasts of burden, mostly oxen, which have brought the loads and which are to carry back their masters to their distant dwelling-places; then follow the camels for sale, often as many as a hundred or more, and numbers of horses, but generally not first-rate ones, which are mostly sold in private. All this sale of horses, camels, etc., with the exception of the oxen, passes through the hands of the dilélma or broker, who, according to the mode of announcement, takes his percentage from the buyer or the seller.

The middle of the market is occupied by the dealers in other merchandise of native and of foreign manufacture, the “amagdí” or tob from Ujé, and the kóre, or rébshi; the farásh, or “fetkéma,” and the “selláma,” the people dealing in cloths, shirts, túrkedí, beads of all sizes and colours, leatherwork, coloured boxes of very different shape and size, very neatly and elegantly made of ox-hide. There are also very neat little boxes made of the kernel, or “náge,” of the fruit of the dúm-tree. Then comes the place where the kómbuli disposes of his slaves.

There are only a few very light sheds or stalls (“kaudi”), erected here and there. In general, besides a few of the retail dealers, only the dilélma, or broker, has a stall, which, on this account, is called diléllam; and, no shady trees being found, both buyers and sellers are exposed to the whole force of the sun during the very hottest hours of the day, between eleven and three o’clock, when the market is most full and busy, and the crowd is often so dense that it is difficult to make one’s way through it: for the place not being regularly laid out, nor the thoroughfares limited by rows of stalls, each dealer squats down with his merchandise where he likes. There are often from twelve to fifteen thousand people crowded together in the market; but the noise is not very great, the Kanúri people being more sedate and less vivacious than the Háusáwa, and not vending their wares with loud cries. However, the wanzám or barber, going about, affords amusement by his constant whistling, “kangádi.” In general, even amusements have rather a sullen character in Bórnu; and of course, in a place of business like the market, very little is done for amusement, although sometimes a serpent-tamer (“kadíma”), or a story-teller (“kosgolíma”), is met with. Also the luxuries offered to the people are very few in comparison with the varieties of cakes and sweetmeats in the market-places of Háusa; and “kólché” (the common sweet ground-nut), “gángala” (the bitter ground-nut), boiled beans or “ngálo,” and a few dry dates from the Tébu country, are almost the only things, besides water and a little nasty sour milk, offered as refreshment to the exhausted customer.

The fatigue which people have to undergo in purchasing their week’s necessaries in the market is all the more harassing, as there is not at present any standard money for buying and selling; for the ancient standard of the country, viz., the pound of copper, has long since fallen into disuse, though the name, “rotl,” still remains. The “gábagá,” or cotton-strips, which then became usual, have lately began to be supplanted by the cowries or “kúngona,” which have been introduced, as it seems, rather by a speculation of the ruling people, than by a natural want of the inhabitants, though nobody can deny that they are very useful for buying small articles, and infinitely more convenient than cotton strips. Eight cowries or kúngona are reckoned equal to one gábagá, and four gábagá, or two-and-thirty kúngona, to one rotl. Then, for buying larger objects, there are shirts of all kinds and sizes, from the “dóra,” the coarsest and smallest one, quite unfit for use, and worth six rotls, up to the larger ones, worth fifty or sixty rotls. But while this is a standard value, the relation of the rotl and the Austrian dollar, which is pretty well current in Bórnu, is subject to extreme fluctuation, due, I must confess, at least partly, to the speculations of the ruling men, and principally to that of my friend the Háj Beshír. Indeed, I cannot defend him against the reproach of having speculated to the great detriment of the public; so that when he had collected a great amount of kúngona, and wished to give it currency, the dollar would suddenly fall as low as to five-and-forty or fifty rotls, while at other times it would fetch as much as one hundred rotls, or three thousand two hundred shells; that is, seven hundred shells more than in Kanó. The great advantage of the market in Kanó is, that there is one standard coin, which, if a too large amount of dollars be not on a sudden set in circulation, will always preserve the same value.

But to return to the market. A small farmer who brings his corn to the Monday market, or the “kásukú létenínbe,” in Kúkawa, will on no account take his payment in shells, and will rarely accept of a dollar: the person, therefore, who wishes to buy corn, if he has only dollars, must first exchange a dollar for shells, or rather buy shells; then with the shells he must buy a “kúlgu,” or shirt; and after a good deal of bartering he may thus succeed in buying the corn, be it some kind of argúm, wheat, or rice. However, these two latter articles are not always to be got, while more frequently they are only in small quantities. The rice sold in Kúkawa is wild rice, the refuse of the elephants, and of a very inferior description.

The fatigue to be undergone in the market is such that I have very often seen my servants return in a state of the utmost exhaustion. Most of the articles which are sold at the great Monday fair may also be found in the small afternoon markets or durríya, but only in small quantity, and at a higher price, and some articles will be sought for there in vain. But while there is certainly a great deal of trouble in the market of Kúkawa, it must be acknowledged that the necessaries of life are cheaper there than in any other place which I have visited in Central Africa, almost half as cheap again as in Kátsena and Sókoto, a third cheaper than in Kanó, and about a fourth cheaper than in Timbúktu. About the cheapness of meat and corn in the latter place, which is indeed a very remarkable fact, and struck me with the utmost surprise when I first reached that celebrated town, I shall speak in the proper place. But I must remark that dukhn, argúm móro, or millet (Pennisetum typhoïdeum), is in greater quantity, and therefore cheaper, in Kúkawa than the durra or sorghum, “ngáberi,” just as it is in Timbúktu and Kanó, while in Bagírmi durra is much cheaper. The ngáberi of Bórnu, however, particularly that kind of it which is called matíya, and which is distinguished by its whiteness, is most excellent; and the “senásin,” a kind of thin pancake prepared from this grain, is the lightest and best food for a European in this country.

Of course the price of corn varies greatly according to the season, the lowest rates ruling about a month or two after the harvest, when all the corn in the country has been thrashed, and the highest rates just about the harvest time. In general, a dollar will purchase in Kúkawa three ox-loads, “kátkun knémube,” of argúm; a dollar and a half will buy a very good ox of about six hundred pounds’ weight; two dollars fetch a pack-ox (“knému”), or a milch cow (“fé mádarabé”); one dollar, two good sheep; from seventeen to twenty rotls, a “téndu” of butter, containing about four pounds’ weight. For wheat and rice the general rule in Negroland is, that they fetch double the price of the native corn. Rice might seem to be indigenous in Central Africa, growing wild everywhere, as well in Bághena, in Western Africa, as in Kótoko or Bagírmi. Wheat, on the contrary, was evidently introduced some hundred years ago, together with onions, the favourite food of the Arab, to the merits of which the native African is insensible, although it is a most wholesome article of diet in this climate, as I shall have repeatedly occasion to state.

Of fruits the most common are—the two sorts of ground-nut, “kólché” and “gángala,” the former of which is a very important article of food, though by no means on so large a scale as in the eastern parts of Ádamáwa; the “bíto,” the fruit of the hajilíj or Balanites Ægyptiaca (which is so much valued by the Kanúri that, according to a common proverb, a bíto-tree and a milch-cow are just the same,—“Késka bítowa féwa mádarabé kal”); a kind of Physalis, the native name of which I have forgotten; the bírgim, or the African plum, of which I shall speak further on; the kórna, or the fruit of the Rhamnus lotus; and the fruit of the dúm-palm, “kírzim” or Cucifera Thebaïca.

Of vegetables, the most common in the market are—beans of various descriptions, which likewise form a very important article of food in many districts, certainly as much as the third of the whole consumption; onions, consumed in great quantity by the Arabs, but not by the natives, who prefer to season their food with the young leaves of the monkey-bread-tree, “kálu kúka,” or the “karás,” or with a sauce made from dried fish. There are no sweet potatoes and no yams in this part of Bórnu, the consequence of which is that the food of the natives is less varied than in Háusa, Kébbi, or Yóruba. Yams are brought to this country as rarities, and are given as presents to influential persons.

Camels sell at from eight to twenty dollars. When there is no caravan in preparation, a very tolerable beast may be about for the former price; but when a caravan is about to start, the best will fetch as much as twenty dollars—very rarely more; and a good camel may always be had for about fifteen dollars. Some camels may be bought for four or five dollars each, but cannot be relied on. Very strong travelling horses for servants were during my first visit purchasable for from six to eight dollars, while an excellent horse would not fetch more than thirty dollars; but in the year 1854 the price had risen considerably, in consequence of the exportation of horses, which had formerly been forbidden, having been permitted, and great numbers having been exported to the west—chiefly to Múniyo, Kátsena, and Márádi. A first-rate horse of foreign race, however, is much dearer, and will sometimes fetch as much as three hundred dollars. I shall have another opportunity of speaking of the horses of Bórnu, which is rather an interesting and important subject, as the breed is excellent, and, besides being very handsome and of good height, they bear fatigue marvellously—a fact of which one of my own horses gave the best proof, having carried me during three years of almost incessant fatigue on my expedition to Kánem, to the Músgu country, to Bagírmi, to Timbúktu, and back to Kanó, where my poor dear companion died in December 1854: and let it be taken into consideration that, though I myself am not very heavy, I constantly carried with me a double-barrelled gun, one or two pairs of pistols, a quantity of powder and shot, several instruments, my journals, and generally even my coffee-pot and some little provision.

But to return to the picture of life which the town of Kúkawa presents. With the exception of Mondays, when just during the hottest hours of the day there is much crowd and bustle in the marketplace, it is very dull from about noon till three o’clock in the afternoon; and even during the rest of the day, those scenes of industry, which in the varied panorama of Kanó meet the eye, are here sought for in vain. Instead of those numerous dyeing-yards or máriná full of life and bustle, though certainly also productive of much filth and foul odours, which spread over the town of Kanó, there is only a single, and a very poor máriná in Kúkawa; no beating of tobes is heard, nor the sound of any other handicraft.

There is a great difference of character between these two towns; and, as I have said above, the Bórnu people are by temperament far more phlegmatic than those of Kanó. The women in general are much more ugly, with square short figures, large heads, and broad noses, with immense nostrils, disfigured still more by the enormity of a red bead or coral worn in the nostril. Nevertheless they are certainly quite as coquettish, and, as far as I had occasion to observe, at least as wanton also, as the more cheerful and sprightly Háusa women. I have never seen a Háusa woman strolling about the streets with her gown trailing after her on the ground, the fashion of the women of Kúkawa, and wearing on her shoulders some Manchester print of a showy pattern, keeping the ends of it in her hands, while she throws her arms about in a coquettish manner. In a word, their dress, as well as their demeanour, is far more decent and agreeable. The best part in the dress or ornaments of the Bórnu women is the silver ornament (the “fállafálle kélabé”) which they wear on the back of the head, and which in taller figures, when the hair is plaited in the form of a helmet, is very becoming; but it is not every woman who can afford such an ornament, and many a one sacrifices her better interests for this decoration.

The most animated quarter of the two towns is the great thoroughfare which, proceeding by the southern side of the palace in the western town, traverses it from west to east, and leads straight to the sheikh’s residence in the eastern town. This is the “déndal” or promenade, a locality which has its imitation, on a less or greater scale, in every town of the country. This road, during the whole day, is crowded by numbers of people on horseback and on foot; free men and slaves, foreigners as well as natives, every one in his best attire, to pay his respects to the sheikh or his vizier, to deliver an errand, or to sue for justice or employment, or a present. I myself very often went along this well-trodden path—this highroad of ambition; but I generally went at an unusual hour, either at sunrise in the morning, or while the heat of the mid-day, not yet abated, detained the people in their cool haunts, or late at night, when the people were already retiring to rest or, sitting before their houses, beguiling their leisure hours with amusing tales or with petty scandal. At such hours I was sure to find the vizier or the sheikh alone; but sometimes they wished me also to visit and sit with them, when they were accessible to all the people; and on these occasions the vizier took pride and delight in conversing with me about matters of science, such as the motion of the earth, or the planetary system, or subjects of that kind.

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My stay in the town was agreeably interrupted by an excursion to Ngórnu and the shores of the lake.

Thursday, April 24:—Sheikh ʿOmár, with his whole court, left Kúkawa in the night of the 23rd of April, in order to spend a day or two in Ngórnu, where he had a tolerably good house; and, having been invited by the vizier to go there, I also followed on the morning of the next day. This road to Ngórnu, is strongly marked with that sameness and monotony which characterize the neighbourhood of Kúkawa. At first nothing is seen but the melancholy “káwo,” Asclepias procera or gigantea; then “ngílle,” low bushes of Cucifera, appear, and gradually trees begin to enliven the landscape, first scattered here and there, further on forming a sort of underwood. The path is broad and well-trodden, but consists mostly of deep sandy soil. There are no villages on the side of the road, but a good many at a little distance. In the rainy season some very large ponds are formed by its side. Two miles and a half before the traveller reaches Ngórnu—the trees cease again, being only seen in detached clusters at a great distance, marking the sites of villages, while near the road they give way to an immense fertile plain, where beans are cultivated, besides grain. However, this also is covered at this season of the year with the tiresome and endless Asclepias. Among the sites of former towns on the east side of the road is that of New Bírni, which was built by the Sultan Mohammed, when residing in Berberuwá, about the year 1820, and destroyed by Háj Beshír in the year 1847, and does not now contain a living soul. Further on is a group of kitchen-gardens belonging to some grandees, and adorned with two or three most splendid tamarind-trees, which in this monotonous landscape have a peculiar charm.

It was about one o’clock in the afternoon when I entered Ngórnu, the town of “the blessing.” The heat being then very great, scarcely anybody was to be seen in the streets; but the houses, or rather yards, were full of people, tents having been pitched to accommodate so many visitors, while fine horses looked forth everywhere over the low fences, saluting us as we passed by. Scarcely a single clay house was to be seen, with the exception of the house of the sheikh, which lies at the end of the déndal; but nevertheless the town made the impression of comfort and ease, and every yard was neatly-fenced with new “síggedí” mats, and well shaded by kórna-trees, while the huts were large and spacious.

Having in vain presented myself at the house of the vizier, where the people were all asleep, and wandered about the town for a good while, I at length took up my quarters provisionally with some Arabs, till the cool of the afternoon aroused the courtiers from their long midday slumber, which they certainly may have needed, inasmuch as they had been up at two o’clock in the morning. But even after I had the good fortune to see Háj Beshír, I found it difficult to obtain quarters, and I was obliged to pitch my tent in a courtyard.

Being tired of the crowd in the town, I mounted on horseback early next morning in order to refresh myself with a sight of the lake, which I supposed to be at no great distance, and indulged beforehand in anticipations of the delightful view which I fondly imagined was soon to greet my eye. We met a good many people and slaves going out to cut grass for the horses; and leaving them to their work we kept on towards the rising sun. But no lake was to be seen, and an endless grassy plain without a single tree extended to the furthest horizon. At length, after the grass had increased continually in freshness and luxuriance, we reached a shallow swamp, the very indented border of which, sometimes bending in, at others bending out, greatly obstructed our progress. Having struggled for a length of time to get rid of this swamp, and straining my eyes in vain to discover the glimmering of an open water in the distance, I at length retraced my steps, consoling myself with the thought that I had seen at least some slight indication of the presence of the watery element, and which seemed indeed to be the only thing which was at present to be seen here.

How different was this appearance of the country from that which it exhibited in the winter from 1854 to 1855, when more than half of the town of Ngórnu was destroyed by the water, and a deep open sea was formed to the south of this place, in which the fertile plain as far as the village of Kúkiya lay buried. This great change seems to have happened in consequence of the lower strata of the ground, which consisted of limestone, having given way in the preceding year, and the whole shore on this side having sunk several feet; but even without such a remarkable accident, the character of the Tsád is evidently that of an immense lagoon, changing its border every month, and therefore incapable of being mapped with accuracy. Indeed, when I saw to-day the nature of these swampy lowlands surrounding the lake, or rather lagoon, I immediately became aware that it would be quite impossible to survey its shores, even if the state of the countries around should allow us to enter upon such an undertaking. The only thing possible would be on one side to fix the furthest limits reached at times by the inundation of the lagoon, and on the other to determine the extent of the navigable waters.

Having returned to the town, I related to the vizier my unsuccessful excursion in search of the Tsád, and he obligingly promised to send some horsemen to conduct me along the shore as far as Káwa, whence I should return to the capital.

Saturday, April 26.—The sheikh, with his court, having left Ngórnu before the dawn of day, on his return to Kúkawa, I sent back my camel, with my two men also, by the direct road; and then having waited awhile in vain for the promised escort, I went myself with Bu-Sʿad, to look after it, but succeeded only in obtaining two horsemen, one of whom was the Kashélla Kótoko, an amiable, quiet Kánemma chief, who ever afterwards remained my friend, and the other a horseguard of the sheikh’s, of the name of Sále. With these companions we set out on our excursion, going north-east: for due east from the town, as I now learned, the lagoon was at present at more than ten miles’ distance. The fine grassy plain seemed to extend to a boundless distance, uninterrupted by a single tree, or even a shrub; not a living creature was to be seen, and the sun began already to throw a fiery veil over all around, making the vicinity of the cooling element desirable. After a little more than half an hour’s ride we reached swampy ground, and began to make our way through the water, often up to our knees on horseback. We thus came to the margin of a fine open sheet of water, encompassed with papyrus and tall reed, of from ten to fourteen feet in height, of two different kinds, one called “méle,” and the other “bóre,” or “bóle.” The méle has a white tender core, which is eaten by the natives, but to me seemed insipid; the bóre has a head like the common bulrush, and its stalk is triangular. The thicket was interwoven by a climbing plant with yellow flowers, called “bórbuje” by the natives, while on the surface of the water was a floating plant called, very facetiously, by the natives, “fánna-billa-bágo” (the homeless fánna). This creek was called “Ngíruwá.”

Then turning a little more to the north, and passing still through deep water full of grass, and most fatiguing for the horses, while it seemed most delightful to me, after my dry and dreary journey through this continent, we reached another creek, called “Dímbebér.” Here I was so fortunate as to see two small boats, or “mákara,” of the Búdduma, as they are called by the Kanúri, or Yédiná, as they call themselves, the famous pirates of the Tsád. They were small flat boats, made of the light and narrow wood of the “fógo,” about twelve feet long, and managed by two men each; as soon as the men saw us, they pushed their boats off from the shore. They were evidently in search of human prey; and as we had seen people from the neighbouring villages, who had come here to cut reeds to thatch their huts anew for the rainy season, we went first to inform them of the presence of these constant enemies of the inhabitants of these fertile banks of the lagoon, that they might be on their guard; for they could not see them, owing to the quantity of tall reeds with which the banks and the neighbouring land was overgrown.

We then continued our watery march. The sun was by this time very powerful; but a very gentle cooling breeze came over the lagoon, and made the heat supportable. We had water enough to quench our thirst—indeed more than we really wanted; for we might have often drunk with our mouth, by stooping down a little, on horseback, so deeply were we immersed. But the water was exceeding warm, and full of vegetable matter. It is perfectly fresh, as fresh as water can be. It seems to have been merely from prejudice that people in Europe have come to the conclusion that this Central African basin must either have an outlet, or must be salt. For I can positively assert that it has no outlet, and that its water is perfectly fresh. Indeed I do not see from whence saltness of the water should arise in a district in which there is no salt at all, and in which the herbage is so destitute of this element, that the milk of the cows and sheep fed on it is rather insipid, and somewhat unwholesome. Certainly, in the holes around the lagoon, where the soil is strongly impregnated with natron, and which are only for a short time of the year in connection with the lake, the water, when in small quantity, must savour of the peculiar quality of the soil; but when these holes are full, the water in them likewise is fresh.

While we rode along these marshy, luxuriant plains, large herds of “kelára” started up, bounding over the rushes, and sometimes swimming, at others running, soon disappeared in the distance. This is a peculiar kind of antelope, which I have nowhere seen but in the immediate vicinity of the lake. In colour and size it resembles the roe, and has a white belly. The kelára is by no means slender, but rather bulky, and extremely fat; this, however, may not be a specific character, but merely the consequence of the rich food which it enjoys here. It may be identical with, or be a variety of the Antilope Arabica, and the Arabs, and those of the natives who understand a little Arabic, call both by the same name, “el áriyel.”

Proceeding onwards, we reached about noon another creek, which is used occasionally by the Búdduma as a harbour, and is called “Ngúlbeá.” We, however, found it empty, and only inhabited by ngurútus, or river-horses, which, indeed, live here in great numbers, snorting about in every direction, and by two species of crocodiles. In this quarter there are no elephants, for the very simple reason that they have no place of retreat during the night; for this immense animal (at least in Africa) appears to be very sensible of the convenience of a soft couch in the sand, and of the inconvenience of mosquitoes too; wherefore it prefers to lie down on a spot a little elevated above the swampy ground, whither it resorts for its daily food. On the banks of the northern part of the Tsád, on the contrary, where a range of low sandhills and wood encompasses the lagoon, we shall meet with immense herds of this animal.

Ngúlbeá was the easternmost point of our excursion; and turning here a little west from north, we continued our march over drier pasture-grounds, placed beyond the reach of the inundation, and, after about three miles, reached the deeply indented and well-protected creek called “Ngómarén.” Here I was most agreeably surprised by the sight of eleven boats of the Yédiná. Large, indeed, they were considering the shipbuilding of these islanders; but otherwise they looked very small and awkward, and, resting quite flat on the water, strikingly reminded me of theatrical exhibitions in which boats are introduced on the stage. They were not more than about twenty feet long,[47] but seemed tolerably broad; and one of them contained as many as eleven people, besides a good quantity of natron and other things. They had a very low waist, but rather a high and pointed prow. They are made of the narrow boards of the fógo-tree, which are fastened together with ropes from the dúm-palm, the holes being stopped with bast.

The Kánembú inhabitants of many neighbouring villages carry on trade with the islanders almost uninterruptedly, while elsewhere the latter are treated as most deadly enemies. Two parties of Kánembú happened to be here with argúm or millet, which they exchange for the natron. They were rather frightened when they saw us, the Búdduma being generally regarded as enemies; but the sheikh and his counsellors are well aware of this intercourse, and, wanting either the spirit or the power to reduce those islanders to subjection, they must allow their own subjects, whom they fail to protect against the continual inroads of the Búdduma, to deal with the latter at their own discretion. It was my earnest wish to go on board one of the boats, and to examine their make attentively; and, with the assistance of Kashélla Kótoko, who was well known to the Búdduma, I should perhaps have succeeded, if Bú-Sʿad, my Mohammedan companion, had not behaved like a madman: indeed I could scarcely restrain him from firing at these people, who had done us no harm. This was certainly a mere outbreak of fanaticism. When the people in the boats saw my servant’s excited behaviour, they left the shore, though numerous enough to overpower us; and we then rode on to another creek called Méllelá, whence we turned westwards and in about an hour, partly through water, partly over a grassy plain, reached Maduwári.

Maduwári, at that time, was an empty sound for me—a name without a meaning, just like the names of so many other places at which I had touched on my wanderings; but it was a name about to become important in the history of the expedition, to which many a serious remembrance was to be attached. Maduwári was to contain another white man’s grave, and thus to rank with Ngurútuwa.

When I first entered the place from the side of the lake, it made a very agreeable impression upon me, as it showed evident signs of ease and comfort, and, instead of being closely packed together, as most of the towns and villages of the Kanúri are, it lay dispersed in eleven or twelve separate clusters of huts, shaded by a rich profusion of kórna and bíto-trees. I was conducted by my companion, Kashélla Kótoko, to the house of Fúgo ʿAli. It was the house wherein Mr. Overweg, a year and a half later, was to expire; while Fúgo ʿAli himself, the man who first contracted friendship with me, then conducted my companion on his interesting navigation round the islands of the lake, and who frequented our house, was destined to fall a sacrifice in the revolution of 1854. How different was my reception then, when I first went to his house on this my first excursion to the lake, and when I revisited it with Mr. Vogel in the beginning of 1855, when Fúgo ʿAli’s widow was sobbing at my side, lamenting the ravages of time, the death of my companion, and that of her own husband!

The village pleased me so much that I took a long walk through it before I sat down to rest; and after being treated most sumptuously with fowls and a roasted sheep, I passed the evening very agreeably in conversation with my black friends. The inhabitants of all these villages are Kánembú,[48] belonging to the tribe of the Sugúrti, who in former times were settled in Kánem, till by the wholesale devastation of that country they were compelled to leave their homes and seek a retreat in these regions. Here they have adopted the general dress of the Kanúri; and only very few of them may at present be seen exhibiting their original native costume, the greatest ornament of which is the headdress, while the body itself, with the exception of a tight leathern apron, or “fúno,” is left naked. This is a remarkable peculiarity of costume, which seems to prevail among almost all barbarous tribes. The original headdress of the Sugúrti, that is to say, of the head men of the tribe, consists of four different articles: first, the “jóka,” or cap, rather stiff, and widening at the top, where the second article, the “ariyábu” (aliyáfu), is tied round it; from the midst of the folds of the ariyábu, just over the front of the head, the “múllefu” stands forth, a piece of red cloth, stiffened, as it seems, by a piece of leather from behind; and all round the crown of the head a bristling crown of reeds rises with barbaric majesty to a height of about eight inches. Round his neck he wears a tight string of white beads or “kulúlu,” and hanging down upon the breast, several small leather pockets, containing written charms or láya, while his right arm is ornamented with three rings, one on the upper arm, called “wíwi or bíbi,” one made of ivory, and called “chíla,” above the elbow, and another, called “kúllo,” just above the wrist. The shields of the Sugúrti, at least most of them, are broad at the top as well as at the base, and besides his large spear or kasákka, he is always armed with three or four javelins, “bállem.” But besides the Sugúrti there happened to be just then present in the village some Búdduma, handsome, slender, and intelligent people, their whole attire consisting in a leathern apron and a string of white beads round the neck, which, together with their white teeth, produces a beautiful contrast with the jet-black skin. They gave me the first account of the islands of the lake, stating that the open water, which in their language is called “Kalilémma,” or rather Kálu kemé, begins one day’s voyage from Káya, the small harbour of Maduwári, stretching in the direction of Sháwi, and that the water is thenceforth from one to two fathoms deep. I invariably understood from all the people with whom I spoke about this interesting lake, that the open water, with its islands of elevated sandy downs, stretches from the mouth of the Sháry towards the western shore, and that all the rest of the lake consists of swampy meadow-lands, occasionally inundated. Indeed Tsád, or Tsáde, is nothing else but another form for Sháry, Shárí, or sárí. I shall have occasion to speak again about this point when briefly reporting my unfortunate companion’s voyage on the lake.[49]

Having closed my day’s labour usefully and pleasantly, I lay down under a sort of shed, but had much to suffer from mosquitoes, which, together with fleas, are a great nuisance near the banks of the lagoon.

Sunday, April 27.—Before sunrise we were again in the saddle, accompanied by Fúgo or Púfo ʿAli, who had his double pair of small drums with him, and looked well on his stately horse. It was a beautiful morning, and I was delighted with the scene around. Clear and unbroken were the lines of the horizon, the swampy plain extending on our right towards the lake, and blending with it, so as to allow the mind that delights in wandering over distant regions a boundless expanse to rove in—an enjoyment not to be found in mountainous regions, be the mountains ever so distant. For

Thus we went on slowly northwards, while the sun rose over the patches of water, which spread over the grassy plain; and on our left the village displayed its snug yards and huts, neatly fenced and shaded by spreading trees. We now left Maduwári, and after a little while passed another village called Dógoji, when we came to a large hamlet or “berí” of Kánembú cattle-breeders, who had the care of almost all the cattle of the villages along the shores of the lake, which is very credibly reported to amount together to eleven thousand head. The herd here collected—numbering at least a thousand head, most of them of that peculiar kind, called kúri, mentioned before—was placed in the midst, while the men were encamped all around, armed with long spears and light shields; at equal distances long poles were fixed in the ground, on which the butter was hung up in skins or in “kórió,” vessels made of grass. Here we had some delay, as Fúgo ʿAli, who was the inspector of all these villages, had to make inquiries respecting three head of cattle belonging to the vizier, which had been stolen during the night. On our left the considerable village of Bínder, which is at least as large as Maduwári, exhibited an interesting picture; and I had leisure to make a sketch.

Having here indulged in a copious draught of fresh milk, we resumed our march, turning to the eastward; and having passed through deep water we reached the creek “Kógorám,” surrounded by a dense belt of tall rushes of various kinds. We were just about to leave this gulf, when we were joined by Zíntelma, another Kánemma chief, who ever afterwards remained attached to me and Mr. Overweg, with five horsemen. Our troop having thus increased, we went on cheerfully to another creek called Tábirám, whence we galloped towards Bolé, trying in vain to overtake a troop of kelára (the antelope before mentioned), which rushed headlong into the water and disappeared in the jungle. Before, however, we could get to this latter place, we had to pass very deep water, which covered my saddle, though I was mounted on a tall horse, and swamped altogether my poor Bú-Sʿad on his pony; nothing but his head and his gun were to be seen for a time. But it was worth while to reach the spot which we thus attained at the widest creek of the lake as yet seen by me,—a fine open sheet of water, the surface of which, agitated by a light east wind, threw its waves upon the shore. All around was one forest of reeds of every description, while the water itself was covered with water-plants, chiefly the water-lily or Nymphæa lotus. Numberless flocks of waterfowl of every description played about. The creek has an angular form; and its recess, which makes a deep indentation from E. 30 N. to W. 30 S., is named Nghélle.

Having made our way through the water and rushes, and at length got again on firm ground, we made a momentary halt to consider what next to do. Háj Beshír had taught me to hope that it would be possible to reach on horseback the island Sóyurum, which extends a long way into the lake, and whence I might have an extensive view over the Kálu kemé and many of the islands; but my companions were unanimously of opinion that the depth of the water to be crossed for many miles exceeded the height of my horse; and although I was quite ready to expose myself to more wetting, in order to see a greater portion of this most interesting feature of Central Africa, I nevertheless did not think it worth while to ride a whole day through deep water, particularly as in so doing I should not be able to keep my chronometer and my compass dry; for these were now the most precious things which I had on earth, and could not be replaced and repaired so easily as gun and pistols. But moreover my horse, which had never been accustomed to fatigue, and had not been well fed, had become quite lame, and seemed scarcely able to carry me back to Kúkawa. I therefore gave up the idea of visiting the island, which in some years, when the lake does not rise to a great height, may be reached with little inconvenience,[50] and followed my companions towards the large village of Káwa.

Passing over fields planted with cotton and beans, but without native corn, which is not raised here at all, we reached Káwa after an hour’s ride, while we passed on our left a small swamp. Káwa is a large straggling village, which seems to enjoy some political pre-eminence above the other places hereabouts, and on this account is placed in a somewhat hostile position to the independent inhabitants of the islands, with which the Kánembú in general keep up a sort of peaceful intercourse. What to me seemed the most interesting objects were the splendid trees adorning the place. The sycamore under which our party was desired to rest in the house of Fúgo ʿAli’s sister was most magnificent, and afforded the most agreeable resting-place possible, the space overshadowed by the crown of the tree being enclosed with a separate fence, as the “fágé,” or place of meeting. Here we were feasted with a kind of “boló-boló,” or water mixed with pounded argúm or dukhn, sour milk, and meat, and then continued our march to Kúkawa, where we arrived just as the vizier was mounting on horseback to go to the sheikh. Galloping up to him, we paid him our respects; and he expressed himself well pleased with me. My companions told him that we had been swimming about in the lake for the last two days, and that I had written down everything. The whole cavalcade, consisting of eight horsemen, then accompanied me to my house, where I gave them a treat.

I returned just in time from my excursion; for the next day the caravan for Fezzán encamped outside the town, and I had to send off two of my men with it. One of them was the carpenter Ibrahím, a handsome young man, but utterly unfit for work, of whom I was extremely glad to get rid; the other was Mohammed el Gatróni, my faithful servant from Múrzuk, whom I dismissed with heartfelt sorrow. He had had a very small salary; and I therefore promised to give him four Spanish dollars a month, and to mount him on horseback; but it was all in vain; he was anxious to see his wife and children again, after which he promised to come back. I, therefore, like the generals of ancient Rome, gave him leave of absence—“pueris procreandis daret operam.”

On the other side, it was well worth a sacrifice to send a trustworthy man to Fezzán. The expedition had lost its director, who alone was authorized to act in the name of the Government which had sent us out; we had no means whatever, but considerable debts, and without immediate aid by fresh supplies, the surviving members could do no better than to return home as soon as possible. Moreover, there were Mr. Richardson’s private things to be forwarded, and particularly his journal, which, from the beginning of the journey down to the very last days of his life, he had kept with great care,—more fortunate he, and more provident in this respect than my other companion, who laughed at me when, during moments of leisure, I finished the notes which I had briefly written down during the march, and who contended that nothing could be done in this respect till after a happy return home. I therefore provided Mohammed, upon whose discretion and fidelity I could entirely rely, with a camel, and entrusted to him all Mr. Richardson’s things and my parcel of letters, which he was to forward by the courier, who is generally sent on by the caravan after its arrival in the Tébu country.

There were two respectable men with the caravan, Háj Hassan, a man belonging to the family of el Kánemi, and in whose company Mr. Vogel afterwards travelled from Fezzán to Bórnu, and Mohammed Titíwi. On the 2nd of May, therefore, I went to pay a visit to these men, but found only Titíwi, to whom I recommended my servant. He promised to render him all needful assistance. I had but little intercourse with this man, yet this little occurred on important occasions, and so his name has become a pleasant remembrance to me. I first met him when sending off the literary remains of my unfortunate companion. I at the same time ventured to introduce myself to Her Majesty’s Government, and to try if it would so far rely upon me, a foreigner, as to entrust me with the further direction of the expedition, and to ask for means; it was then Titíwi again who brought me the most honourable despatches from the British Government, authorizing me to carry out the expedition just as it had been intended, and at the same time means for doing so. It was Titíwi, who on the day when I was leaving Kúkawa on my long adventurous journey to Timbúktu, came to my house to wish me success in my arduous undertaking; and it was Titíwi again, who, on the 2nd of August, 1855, came to the consul’s house, in Tripoli, to congratulate me on my successful return from the interior.

He was an intelligent man, and being informed that I was about to undertake a journey to Ádamáwa, the dangers of which he well knew, he expressed his astonishment that I should make the attempt with a weak horse, such as I was then riding. My horse, though it had recovered a little from its lameness, and was getting strength from a course of dumplings made of the husk of Negro corn mixed with natron, which it had to swallow every morning and evening, was anything but a good charger; and having previously determined to look about for a better horse, I was only confirmed in my intention by the observation of the experienced merchant.

This was one of the largest slave caravans which departed during my stay in Bórnu; for, if I am not mistaken, there were seven hundred and fifty slaves in the possession of the merchants who went with it. Slaves are as yet the principal export from Bórnu, and will be so till the slave-trade on the north coast is abolished.

Overweg had not yet arrived, although we had received information that he was on his way directly from Zínder, having given up his intention of visiting Kanó. Before I set out on my journey to Ádamáwa, it was essential that I should confer with him about many things, and particularly as to what he himself should first undertake, but the rainy season was fast approaching even here, while in Ádamáwa it had set in long ago, and it seemed necessary that I should not delay any longer. In the afternoon of the 5th of May, we had the first unmistakable token of the rainy season—a few heavy claps of thunder followed by rain. But I did not tarry; the very same day I bought in the market all that was necessary for my journey, and the next day succeeded in purchasing a very handsome and strong grey horse, “keri bul,” for twelve hundred and seventy rotls, equal at that moment to two-and-thirty Austrian dollars, while I sold my weak horse which the sheikh had given me for nine hundred rotls, or twenty-two dollars and a half.

Having also bought an Arab saddle, I felt myself quite a match for anybody, and hearing in the afternoon that the sheikh had gone to Gawánge, a place two miles and a half east from the town towards the lake, I mounted my new steed, and setting off at a gallop, posted myself before the palace just when ʿOmár was about to come out with the flourishing of the trumpets, sounding the Háusa word “gashí, gashí,” “Here he is, here he is.” The sheikh was very handsomely dressed in a fine white bernús over another of light blue colour, and very well mounted on a fine black horse “fir kéra.” He was accompanied by several of his and the vizier’s courtiers, and about two hundred horsemen, who were partly riding by his side, partly galloping on in advance and returning again to the rear, while sixty slaves, wearing red jackets over their shirts, and armed with matchlocks, ran in front of and behind his horse. The vizier, who saw me first, saluted me very kindly, and sent Hámza Weled el Góni to take me to the sheikh, who made a halt, and asked me very graciously how I was going on, and how my excursion to the lake had amused me. Having then taken notice of my sprightly horse, the vizier called my servant, and expressed his regret, that the horse which they had presented to me had not proved good, saying that I ought to have informed them, when they would have given me a better one. I promised to do so another time, and did not forget the warning.

Wednesday, May 7.—Mr. Overweg arrived. The way in which he was announced to me was so singular as to merit description. It was about an hour before noon, and I was busy collecting some interesting information from my friend Ibrahím el Futáwi about Tagánet, when suddenly the little Maʿadi arrived. This lad, a liberated slave, had been Mr. Richardson’s servant, and is frequently mentioned in that gentleman’s journal. As he had been among those of my companion’s people who, to my great regret, had left Kúkawa the day before I arrived without having their claims settled, I was very glad when he came back, but could not learn from him how it happened that he returned; when, after some chat, he told me, incidentally, that the tabíb (Mr. Overweg) was also come, and was waiting for me in Kálilwá. Of course it was the latter who, meeting the lad on the road, had brought him back, and had sent him now expressly to inform me of his arrival. This dull but good-natured lad, who was afterwards severely wounded in the service of the mission, is now Mr. Vogel’s chief servant.

As soon as I fully understood the purport of this important message, I ordered my horse to be saddled, and mounted. The sun was extremely powerful, just about noon, shortly before the setting in of the rainy season, and as I had forgotten, in the hurry and excitement, to wind a turban round my cap, I very nearly suffered a sunstroke. A traveller cannot be too careful of his head in these countries.

I found Overweg in the shade of a nebek-tree near Kálilwá. He looked greatly fatigued and much worse than when I left him, four months ago, at Tasáwa: indeed, as he told me, he had been very sickly in Zínder—so sickly, that he had been much afraid lest he should soon follow Mr. Richardson to the grave. Perhaps the news which he just then heard of our companion’s death made him more uneasy about his own illness. However, we were glad to meet again alive, and expressed our hopes to be able to do a good deal for the exploration of these countries. He had had an opportunity of witnessing, during his stay in Góber and Marádi, the interesting struggle going on between this noblest part of the Háusa nation and the Fúlbe, who threaten their political as well as religious independence; and he was deeply impressed with the charming scenes of unrestrained cheerful life which he had witnessed in those pagan communities; while I, for my part, could assure him that my reception in Bórnu seemed to guarantee success, although, under existing circumstances, there seemed to be very little hope that we should ever be able to make a journey all round the Tsád; but I thought that, with the assistance of those people in Bínder and Maduwári whom I had just visited, and who appeared to be on friendly terms with the islanders, it might be possible to explore the navigable part of the lagoon in the boat.

Mr. Overweg was, in some respects, very badly off, having no clothes with him except those which he actually wore, all his luggage being still in Kanó, though he had sent two men to fetch it. I was therefore obliged to lend him my own things, and he took up his quarters in another part of our house, though it was rather small for our joint establishment. The vizier was very glad of his arrival, and, in fulfilment of his engagement to deliver all the things left by Mr. Richardson as soon as Mr. Overweg should arrive, he sent all the half-empty boxes of our late companion in the evening of the next day; even the gun and pistols, and the other things which had been sold, were returned, with the single exception of Mr. Richardson’s watch, which, as the sheikh was very fond of it, and kept it near him night and day, I thought it prudent to spare him the mortification of returning.

Mr. Overweg and I, having then made a selection from the articles that remained to us, presented to the vizier, on the morning of the 9th, those destined for him, and in the afternoon we presented the sheikh with his share. These presents could not now be expected to please by their novelty, or to awaken a feeling of gratitude in the receivers, who had long been in possession of them; but although made to understand by Mr. Richardson’s interpreters that he alone had been authorized by the British Government, Mr. Overweg and I not being empowered to interfere, and that consequently they might regard themselves as legitimate possessors of our deceased companion’s property, they must yet have entertained some doubt about the equity of their claim; and as soon as I arrived, and began to act with firmness, they grew ashamed of having listened to intriguing servants. In short, though we had put them to shame, they esteemed us all the better for our firmness, and received their presents in a very gracious manner.

We now spoke also about the treaty, the negotiation of which, we said, had been specially entrusted to our companion, but now, by his death, had devolved on us. Both of them assured us of their ardent desire to open commercial intercourse with the English, but at the same time they did not conceal that their principal object in so doing was to obtain firearms. They also expressed their desire that two of their people might return with us to England, in order to see the country and its industry, which we told them we were convinced would be most agreeable to the British Government. Our conversation was so unrestrained and friendly, that the sheikh himself took the opportunity of excusing himself for having appropriated Mr. Richardson’s watch. But the following narrative will show how European travellers, endeavouring to open these countries to European intercourse, have to struggle against the intrigues of the Arabs; who are well aware that as soon as the Europeans, or rather the English, get access to Negroland, not only their slave-trade, but even their whole commerce, as they now carry it on, will be annihilated.

We had scarcely re-entered our house when, the rumour spreading through the Arab quarter of the manner in which we had been received, and of the matters talked of, el Khodr, a native of Dar-Fúr, and the foremost of the native traders, went to the sheikh with the news that seven large vessels of the English had suddenly arrived at Nupe, and that the natives were greatly afraid of them. This announcement was soon found to be false, but nevertheless it served its purpose, to cool a little the friendly and benevolent feeling which had been manifested towards us. The following day we went to pitch the large double tent, which we had given to the sheikh, on the open area before his palace in the eastern town; and having fully succeeded in arranging it, although a few pieces were wanting, it was left the whole day in its place, and made a great impression upon the people. At first it seemed rather awkward to the natives, whose tents, even if of large size, are mere bell-tents; but in the course of time it pleased the sheikh so much, that when I finally left the country, he begged me to entreat the British Government to send him another one like it.

We also paid our respects to the principal of the sheikh’s brothers, as well as to his eldest son. Having obtained permission, we visited ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the brother and rival of the sheikh, as we could not prudently be wanting in civility to a person who might soon get the upper hand. We presented him with a fine white heláli bernús, and sundry small things; he received us very graciously, and laughed and chatted a good deal with us on the first as well as on a second visit, when I was obliged to show him the pictures in Denham’s and Clapperton’s work, and the drawing I had myself made of his friend, the Kánemma chief, Ámsakay, of which he had heard; but his manners did not please us very much. His countenance had a very wild expression, and he manifested little intelligence or princely demeanour, wrangling and playing the whole day with his slaves. Besides, we were obliged to be cautious in our dealings with him; for we had scarcely made his acquaintance, when he sent us a secret message, begging for poison, with which he most probably wished to rid himself of his deadly enemy the vizier. Quite a different man was Yúsuf, the sheikh’s second brother, with whom, during my last stay in Kúkawa, in the beginning of 1855, I became intimately acquainted. He was a learned and very religious man, always reading, and with a very acute sense of justice; but he was not a man of business. As for Bú-Bakr, the eldest son of ʿOmár, who now unfortunately seems to have the best claim to the succession, he was a child, devoid of intelligence or noble feelings. Twice was I obliged to have recourse to his father to make him pay me for some articles which he had bought of me.

The much-desired moment of my departure for Ádamáwa drew nearer and nearer. The delay of my starting on this undertaking, occasioned by the late arrival of Mr. Overweg, had been attended with the great advantage that, meanwhile, some messengers of the governor of that country had arrived, in whose company, as they were returning immediately, I was able to undertake the journey with a much better prospect of success. The subject of their message was, that Kashélla ʿAlí Ladán, on his late predatory incursion into the Marghí country, had enslaved and carried away inhabitants of several places to which the governor of Ádamáwa laid claim, and it was more in order to establish his right, than from any real concern in the fate of these unfortunate creatures, that he was pleased to lay great stress upon the case. Indeed, as the sequel shows, his letter must have contained some rather harsh or threatening expressions, to which the ruler of Bórnu was not inclined to give way, though he yielded[51] to the justice of the specific claim. At first these messengers from Ádamáwa were to be my only companions besides my own servants, and on the 21st of May I was officially placed under their protection in the house of the sheikh by several of the first courtiers or kokanáwa, among whom were the old Ibrahím Wadáy, the friend and companion of Mohammed el Kánemi in his first heroical proceedings, Shítima Náser, Hámza, and Kashélla ʿAli, and the messengers promised to see me safe to their country, and to provide for my safe return.

Íbrahíma, the head man of these messengers, who were all of rather inferior rank, was not such a man as I wished for; but fortunately there was among them another person named Mohámmedu, who, although himself a Púllo by descent, had more of the social character of the Háusa race, and was ready to gratify my desire for information. He proved most useful in introducing me into the new country which I was to explore, and would have been of immense service to me if I had been allowed to make any stay there.

After much delay, and having twice taken official leave of the sheikh in full state, I had at length the pleasure of seeing our little band ready for starting in the afternoon of Thursday, the 29th May, 1851. Rather more, I think, with a view to his own interest, than from any apprehension on my account, the sheikh informed me, in the last interview which I had with him, that he would send an officer along with me. This move puzzled me from the beginning, and caused me some misgiving; and there is not the least doubt, as the sequel will show, that to the company of this officer it must be attributed that I was sent back by Mohammed Láwl, the governor of Ádamáwa, without being allowed to stay any time in the country; but, for truth’s sake, I must admit that if I had not been accompanied by this man, it is doubtful whether I should have been able to overcome the very great difficulties and dangers which obstruct this road.

---

Friday, June 6.—We now commenced travelling more in earnest. Íbrahíma had been busy looking after his master’s subjects, who had been carried away into slavery, all about the villages in the neighbourhood, but with very little success. Our road passed close by Ujé Kásukulá, which to-day looked quite deserted; and then through a populous country with numerous villages and fine pasture-grounds, where I saw the plant called “wálde” by the Fúlbe.

I had taken great pains in Kúkawa, while gathering information about the country whither I was going, to ascertain from my informants whether snow ever lies there on the tops of the mountains or not; but I could never get at the truth, none of the natives whom I interrogated having ever visited North Africa, so as to be able to identify what he saw on the tops of the mountains in his country with the snow seen in the north. Áhmedu bel Mejúb, indeed, knew the Atlas, and had seen snow on some of the tops of that range; but he had paid little attention to the subject, and did not think himself justified in deciding the question. Now this morning, when we obtained once more a sight of Mount Dalántubá, marking out, as it were, the beginning of a mountainous region, we returned again to the subject; and all that my companions said led me to believe that I might really expect to see snow on the highest mountains of Ádamáwa. But after all I was mistaken; for they were speaking of clouds. Unfortunately Bíllama had taken another path, so that to-day I had no one to tell me the names of the villages which we passed. Some geographers think this a matter of no consequence—for them it is enough if the position of the chief places be laid down by exact astronomical observation; but to me the general character of a country, the way in which the population is settled, and the nature and character of those settlements themselves, seem to form some of the chief and most useful objects of a journey through a new and unknown country.

Having marched for more than two hours through an uninterrupted scene of agriculture and dense population, we entered a wild tract covered principally with the beautiful large bush of the tsáda, the fruit of which, much like a red cherry, has a pleasant acid taste, and was eaten with great avidity, not only by my companions, but even by myself. But the scene of man’s activity soon again succeeded to this narrow border of wilderness; and a little before we came to the village Túrbe, which was surrounded by open cultivated country, we passed a luxuriant tamarind-tree, in the shade of which a blacksmith had established his simple workshop. The group consisted of three persons, the master heating the iron in the fire; a boy blowing it with a small pair of bellows, or “búbutú,” and a lad fixing a handle in a hatchet. On the ground near them lay a finished spear. Riding up to salute the smith, I asked him whence the iron was procured, and learnt that it was brought from Madégelé, in Búbanjídda. This is considered as the best iron hereabouts; but a very good sort of iron is obtained also in Mándará.

We halted for the hot hours of the day near a village belonging to the district Shámo, which originally formed part of the Marghí country, but has been separated from it and annexed to Bórnu, its former inhabitants having either been led into slavery or converted to Islám—that is to say, taught to repeat a few Arabic phrases, without understanding a word of them. The inhabitants of the village brought us paste of Guinea-corn and milk, which, mixed together, make a palatable dish. From this place onward, ngáberi, or holcus, prevails almost exclusively, and argúm móro, or Pennisetum typhoïdeum, becomes rare.

Some native traders, armed with spears and driving before them asses laden with salt, here attached themselves to our troop; for the road further on is so much infested by robbers, that only a large body of men can pass it in safety. The country which we now entered bore but too evident proofs of the unfortunate condition to which it is reduced, forming a thick forest, through which nevertheless, here and there, the traces of former cultivation and the mouldering remains of huts are to be seen. According to Bíllama, as late as a few years ago a large portion of this district was inhabited by Kanúri and Gámerghú, the latter, most probably, having taken possession of the lands abandoned by the Marghí; but ʿAli Déndal, who has ruled it for Abú Bakr, the son of ʿOmár, a youth without intelligence, and only anxious to make the most of his province, has ruined it by his rapacity: he, however, was soon to be ruined himself. There was a small spot where the forest had been cleared away for cultivation,—a proof that the natives, if they were only humanely treated by the government, would not be wanting in exertion.

The forest was partly filled up by a dense jungle of reed-grass, of such a height as to cover horse and rider. The soil is of a black, boggy, argillaceous nature, and full of holes, which make the passage through this tract extremely difficult in the latter part of the rainy season. My companions also drew my attention to the bee-hives underground, from which a peculiar kind of honey is obtained, which I shall repeatedly have occasion to mention in the course of my narrative.

After three hours’ march through this wild and unpleasant country, we reached a small village called Yerímarí, which, according to Bíllama, had formerly been of much greater size; at present it is inhabited by a few Marghí Mohammedan proselytes. There being only one hut in the yard assigned to us, I preferred pitching my tent, thinking that the storm which had threatened us in the afternoon had passed by, as the clouds had gone westwards. However, I soon learned that, in tropical climes, there is no certainty of a storm having passed away, the clouds often returning from the opposite quarter.

We had already retired to rest when the tempest burst upon us with terrible fury, threatening to tear my weak little tent to pieces. Fortunately the top-ropes were well fastened; and, planting myself against the quarter from whence the wind blew, I succeeded in keeping it upright. The rain came down in torrents; and, though the tent excluded it tolerably well from above, the water rushed in from below and wetted my luggage. But as soon as it fairly begins to rain, a traveller in a tolerable tent is safe; for then the heavy gale ceases. Sitting down upon my camp-stool, I quietly awaited the end of the storm, when I betook myself to the hut, where I found Mʿallem Katúri and Bú-Sʿad comfortably stretched.

Saturday, June 7.—We set out at a tolerably early hour, being all very wet. The rain had been so heavy that the labours of the field could be deferred no longer; and close to the village we saw a couple sowing their little field, the man going on in advance, and making holes in the ground at equal distances with a hoe of about five feet long (the “kíski kúllobe”), while his wife, following him, threw a few grains of seed into each hole. These people certainly had nothing to lose; and in order not to risk their little stock of seed, they had waited till the ground was thoroughly drenched, while some people commit their grain to the ground at the very setting in of the rainy season, and risk the loss of it if the rains should delay too long. After we had passed a small village called Keríkasáma, the forest became very thick; and for a whole hour we followed the immense footprints of an elephant, which had found it convenient to keep along the beaten path, to the great annoyance of succeeding travellers, who had, in consequence, to stumble over the deep holes made by the impression of its feet.

About eleven o’clock we reached the outskirts of Molghoy, having passed, half an hour before, a number of round holes, about four feet wide and five feet deep, made intentionally, just at the spot where the path was hemmed in between a deep fiumara to the left and uneven ground to the right, in order to keep off a sudden hostile attack, particularly of cavalry. Molghoy is the name of a district rather than of a village; as the pagan countries, in general, seem to be inhabited, not in distinct villages and towns, where the dwellings stand closely together, but in single farms and hamlets, or clusters of huts, each of which contains an entire family, spreading over a wide expanse of country, each man’s fields lying close around his dwelling. The fields, however, of Molghoy had a very sad and dismal aspect, although they were shaded and beautifully adorned by numerous karáge-trees. Though the rainy season had long set in, none of these fine fields were sown this year, but still presented the old furrows of former years; and all around was silent and inert, bearing evident signs, if not of desolation, at least of oppression.

I had already dismounted, being a little weak and fatigued after my last sleepless night’s uncomfortable drenching, hoping that we should here pass the heat of the day; but there seemed to be nothing left for us to eat, and after some conversation with a solitary inhabitant, Bíllama informed me that we were to proceed to another village, which likewise belongs to Molghoy. We therefore continued our march, and soon after entered a dense forest, where we had more enjoyment of wild fruits, principally of one called “fóti,” of the size of an apricot, and with three large kernels, the pulp of which was very pleasant. Behind the little hamlet Dalá Dísowa I saw the first specimen of the sacred groves of the Marghí—a dense part of the forest surrounded with a ditch, where, in the most luxuriant and widest-spreading tree, their god “Tumbí” is worshipped.

It was one o’clock in the afternoon when we reached the village where we expected to find quarters. It also is called Molghoy, and is divided into two groups by a watercourse or komádugu (as the Kanúri, dílle as the Marghí call it) about twenty-five yards wide, and enclosed by steep banks. My kashélla, deprived of his former irresistible authority, was now reduced to politeness and artifice; and having crossed the channel, which at present retained only a pool of stagnant water, and was richly overgrown with succulent grass, we lay down on its eastern bank in the cool shade of some luxuriant kúrna-trees, the largest trees of this species I have ever seen, where we spread all our luggage, which had been wetted the preceding night, out to dry, while the horses were grazing upon the fresh herbage. In this cool and pleasant spot, which afforded a view over a great part of the village, I breakfasted upon “chébchebé,” a light and palatable Kanúri sweatmeat, and upon “núfu,” or habb’ el azíz, dug up in large quantities almost over the whole of Bórnu.

By-and-by, as another storm seemed impending, we looked about for quarters, and I with my three servants and Mʿallem Katúri took possession of a small courtyard enclosed with a light fence four feet high composed of mats and thorny bushes, which contained four huts, while a fifth, together with the granary, had fallen in. The huts, however, were rather narrow, encumbered as they were with a great deal of earthenware, besides the large “gébam” or urn, containing the necessary quantity of corn for about a week, and the “bázam” or the water-jar; and the doors—if doors they could be called—were so extremely small, while they were raised about a foot from the ground, that a person not accustomed to the task had the greatest difficulty to creep in. These narrow doors were direct proofs of the great power of the rains in these climes, against which the natives have to protect themselves, as well as the raised and well-plastered floors of the huts, while reed is still the prevalent and almost exclusive material for the whole building. As for my own hut, it had the advantage of a contrivance to render the passage of the opening a little more easy, without diminishing the protection against the inclemency of the weather; for that part of the front of the hut which intervened between the doorway and the floor of the hut was movable, and made to fold up. Each family has its own separate courtyard, which forms a little cluster of huts by itself, and is often a considerable distance from the next yard. This kind of dwelling has certainly something very cheerful and pleasant in a simple and peaceable state of society, while it offers also the great advantage of protecting the villages against wholesale conflagrations, but it is liable to a very great disadvantage in a community which is threatened continually by sudden inroads from relentless enemies and slave-hunters.

The storm luckily passing by, I walked through the village, and visited several courtyards. The inhabitants, who, at least outwardly, have become Mohammedans, go entirely naked, with the exception of a narrow strip of leather, which they pass between the legs and fasten round their waist. But even this very simple and scanty covering they seem to think unnecessary at times. I was struck by the beauty and symmetry of their forms, which were thus entirely exposed to view, and by the regularity of their features, which are not disfigured by incisions, and in some had nothing of what is called the Negro type; but I was still more astonished at their complexion, which was very different in different individuals, being in some of a glossy black, and in others of a light copper, or rather rhubarb colour, the intermediate shades being almost entirely wanting. Although the black shade seemed to prevail, I arrived at the conclusion that the copper colour was the original complexion of the tribe, the black shade being due to intermixture with surrounding nations. But the same variety of shades has been observed in many other tribes, as well on this continent as in Asia.

Being allowed to stray about at my leisure, I observed in one house a really beautiful female in the prime of womanhood, who, with her son, a boy of about eight or nine years of age, formed a most charming group, well worthy of the hand of an accomplished artist. The boy’s form did not yield in any respect to the beautiful symmetry of the most celebrated Grecian statues, as that of the praying boy, or that of the diskophóros. His legs and arms were adorned with strings of iron beads, such as I shall have occasion to describe more distinctly further on, made in Wándalá, which are generally worn by young people; his legs were as straight as possible: his hair, indeed, was very short, and curled, but not woolly. He, as well as his mother and the whole family, were of a pale or yellowish-red complexion, like rhubarb. His mother, who was probably twenty-two years of age, was a little disfigured by a thin pointed metal plate about an inch long, of the figure represented here, which was stuck through her under lip. This kind of barbarous ornament is called in the language of these people “seghéum,” and is very differently shaped, and generally much smaller than that worn by this woman; indeed it is often a mere thin tag. It is possible that its size varies according to the character of the females by whom it is worn. However small it may be, it can hardly be fastened in the lip without being very inconvenient, and even painful, at least at first; at any rate it is less monstrous than the large bone which is worn by the Músgu women in the same way. These simple people were greatly amused when they saw me take so much interest in them; but while they were pleased with my approval, and behaved very decently, they grew frightened when I set about sketching them. This is the misfortune of the traveller in these regions, where everything is new, and where certainly one of the most interesting points attaches to the character of the natives,—that he will very rarely succeed in persuading one of them to stand while he makes an accurate drawing of him. The men are generally tall, and, while they are young, rather slender; some of the women also attain a great height, and in that state, with their hanging breasts, form frightful objects in their total nakedness, especially if they be of red colour.

In another courtyard, I saw two unmarried young girls busy at housework: they were about twelve years of age, and were more decently clad, wearing an apron of striped cotton round their loins; but this was evidently a result of Mohammedanism. These also were of copper colour; and their short curled hair was dyed of the same hue by powdered camwood rubbed into it. They wore only thin tags in their under lips, and strings of red glass beads round their neck. Their features were pleasing, though less handsome than those of the woman above described. They were in ecstasies when I made them some little presents, and did not know how to thank me sufficiently.

I had scarcely returned from my most interesting walk when the inhabitants of the neighbouring yards, seeing that I was a good-natured sort of man who took great interest in them, and hearing from my people that in some respects I was like themselves, sent me a large pot of their intoxicating beverage, or “komíl,” made of Guinea-corn, which, however, I could not enjoy, as it was nothing better than bad muddy beer. Instead of confusing my brains with such a beverage, I sat down and wrote about two hundred words in their own language, which seemed to have no relation to any of the languages with which I had as yet become acquainted, but which, as I found afterwards, is nearly related to, or rather only a dialect of the Bátta language, which is spread over a large part of Ádamáwa or Fúmbiná, and has many points of connection with the Músgu language, while in certain general principles it approaches the great South African family. Having received, besides my home-made supper of mohámsa, several bowls of “déffa,” or paste of Guinea-corn, from the natives, I had a long pleasant chat in the evening with the two young girls whom I have mentioned above, and who brought two fowls for sale, but were so particular in their bartering, that the bargain was not concluded for full two hours, when I at length succeeded in buying the precious objects with shells, or kúngona, which have no more currency here than they had since we left Kúkawa, but which these young ladies wanted for adorning their persons. They spoke Kanúri with me, and their own language between themselves and with some other women who joined them after a while. In vain I tried to get a little milk; although the inhabitants in general did not seem to be so badly off, yet they had lost all their horses and cattle by the exactions of Bórnu officers. Indeed it is really lamentable to see the national wellbeing and humble happiness of these pagan communities trodden down so mercilessly by their Mohammedan neighbours. The tempest which had threatened us the whole afternoon discharged itself in the distance.

Sunday, June 8.—We set out at a tolerably early hour, to pass a forest of considerable extent. In the beginning it was rather light, such as the Kanúri called “dírridé,” and at times interrupted by open pasture-ground covered with the freshest herbage, and full of the footprints of elephants of every age and size. Pools of stagnant water were seen in all directions, and flowers filled the air with a delicious fragrance; but the path, being full of holes, and of a miry consistence, became at times extremely difficult, especially for the camels. As for ourselves we were well off, eating now and then some wild fruit, and either sucking out the pulp of the “tóso,” or devouring the succulent root of the “katakírri.”

The tóso is the fruit of the Bassia Parkii, called kadeña by the Háusa people, and consists almost entirely of a large kernel of the colour and size of a chestnut, which is covered with a thin pulp inside the green peel: this pulp has a very agreeable taste, but is so thin that it is scarcely worth sucking out. The tree in question, which I had lost sight of entirely since I left Háusa, is very common hereabouts; and the people prepare a good deal of butter from the kernel, which is not only esteemed for seasoning their food, but also for the medicinal qualities ascribed to it, and which I shall repeatedly have occasion to mention. As for the katakírri, it is a bulbous root, sometimes of the size of a large English potato, the pulp being not unlike that of a large radish, but softer, more succulent, and also very refreshing and nutritious. The juice has a milky colour. A man may easily travel for a whole day with nothing to eat but this root, which seems to be very common during the rainy season in the woody and moist districts of Central Africa—at least as far as I had occasion to observe. It is not less frequent near the Niger and in Kébbi than it is here; but I never observed it in Bórnu, nor in Bagírmi. It requires but little experience to find out where the bulbous root grows, its indication above ground being a single blade about ten inches high; but it sometimes requires a good deal of labour to dig up the roots, as they are often about a foot or a foot and a half under ground.

The soil gradually became worse; the trees were of a most uniform description, being all mimosas, and all alike of indifferent growth, while only here and there a large leafless Adansonia stretched forth its gigantic arms as if bewailing the desolation spread around, where human beings had formerly subsisted: for the kúka or baobab likes the dwelling of the Negro, and he, on the other hand, can scarcely live without it; for how could he season his simple food without the baobab’s young fresh leaves, or sweeten and flavour his drink without the slightly acid pulp wherein the kernels are imbedded? The herbage was reduced to single tufts of coarse grass four or five feet high; and the path became abominable, not allowing a moment’s inattention or thoughtful abstraction, from fear of being thrown off, the next minute, into a swampy hole.

Thus we went on cheerlessly, when about eleven o’clock the growth of the trees began to improve, and I observed a tree, which I did not remember to have seen before, of middle size, the foliage rather thin and of light-green colour; it is called “kamándu” in Kanúri, and “bóshi” in Háusa. The country, however, does not exhibit a single trace of habitation, either of the past or present time; and on our right no village was said to be nearer than Díshik at the distance of half a day’s journey, and even that was reported to be now deserted by its inhabitants. At length the monotonous gloomy forest gave way to scattered clusters of large trees, such as generally indicate the neighbourhood of man’s industry, and we soon after emerged upon beautiful green meadow-lands stretching out to the very foot of the Wándalá mountains, the whole range of which, in its entire length from north to south, lay open to view. It was a charming sight, the beautiful green of the plain against the dark colour of the mountains, and the clear sunny sky; and I afterwards regretted deeply that I had not made a slight sketch of the country from this spot, as near the village the same wide horizon was no longer visible.

It was one o’clock in the afternoon when we reached the first cluster of huts belonging to the village or district or Ísge, or Íssege, which spread to a considerable extent over the plain, while horses and sheep were feeding on the adjacent pastures, and women were cultivating the fields. A first glance at this landscape impressed me with the conviction that I had at length arrived at a seat of the indigenous inhabitants, which, although it had evidently felt the influence of its overbearing and merciless neighbours, had not yet been altogether despoiled by their hands. Vigorous and tall manly figures, girt round the loins with a short leathern apron, and wearing, besides their agricultural tools, the “danísko” (handbill), or a spear, were proudly walking about or comfortably squatting together in the shade of some fine tree, and seemed to intimate that this ground belonged to them, and that the foreigner, whoever he might be, ought to act discreetly. As for their dress, however, I almost suspected that, though very scanty, it was put on only for the occasion; for, on arriving at the first cluster of huts, we came abruptly upon a hollow with a pond of water, from which darted forth a very tall and stout bronze-coloured woman, totally naked, with her pitcher upon her head,—not only to my own amazement, but even to that of my horse, which, coming from the civilized country of Bórnu, which is likewise the seat of one of the blackest races in the interior, seemed to be startled by such a sight. However, I have observed that many of those simple tribes deem some sort of covering, however scanty it might be, more essential for the man than the woman.

We first directed our steps towards the western side of the village, where in a dense cluster of huts was the dwelling of the nominal “bíllama,” that is to say, of a man who, betraying his native country, had placed himself under the authority of the Bórnu people, in the hope that, with their assistance, he might gratify his ambition by becoming the tyrant of his compatriots. Here we met Íbrahíma, who with his countryman had arrived before us. Having obtained from the important bíllama a man who was to assign us quarters, we returned over the wide grassy plain towards the eastern group, while beyond the quarter which we were leaving I observed the sacred grove, of considerable circumference, formed by magnificent trees, mostly of the ficus tribe, and surrounded with an earthen wall.

At length we reached the eastern quarter; but the owners of the courtyards which were selected for our quarters, did not seem at all inclined to receive us. I had cheerfully entered with Bú-Sad the courtyard assigned to me, in order to take possession of it, and my servant had already dismounted, when its proprietor rushed furiously in, and, raising his spear in a most threatening attitude, ordered me to leave his house instantly. Acknowledging the justice of his claims to his own hearth, I did not hesitate a moment to obey his mandate; but I had some difficulty in persuading my servant to go away peaceably, as he was more inclined to shoot the man. This dwelling in particular was very neatly arranged; and I was well able to sympathize with the proprietor, who saw that his clean yard was to be made a stable and littered with dirt. The yards contained from five to seven huts, each of different size and arrangement, besides a shed, and gave plain indications of an easy and comfortable domestic life.

Bíllama, that is to say, my guide, who seemed not to have been more fortunate than myself in his endeavour to find a lodging, being rather crestfallen and dejected, we thought it best to give up all idea of sheltered quarters, and, trusting to our good luck, to encamp outside. We therefore drew back altogether from the inhabited quarter, into the open meadow, and dismounted beneath the wide-spreading shade of an immense kúka, or “bokki,” at least eighty feet high, the foliage of which being interwoven with numbers of climbing plants, such as I very rarely observed on this tree, formed a most magnificent canopy. While my tent was being pitched here, a number of natives collected round us, and squatting down in a semicircle eyed all my things very attentively, drawing each other’s attention to objects which excited their curiosity. They were all armed; and as there were from thirty to forty, and hundreds more might have come to their assistance in a moment, their company was not so agreeable as under other circumstances it might have been. The reason, however, why they behaved so inhospitably towards me evidently was, that they took me for an officer of the king of Bórnu: but this impression gave way the longer they observed my manners and things; indeed, as soon as they saw the tent, they became aware that it was not a tent like those of their enemies, and they came to the same conclusion with regard to the greater part of my luggage. In many places in Negroland I observed that the bipartite tent-pole was a most wonderful object to the natives, and often served to characterize the Christian. This time, however, we did not come to friendly terms; but the reader will be gratified to see how differently these people treated me on my return from Fúmbiná.

While our party was rather quietly and sullenly sitting near the tent, a number of Fúlbe, who had been staying in this district for some time, came to pay their respects to me. They were a very diminutive set of people, and, excepting general traits of resemblance and language, were unlike those proud fellow countrymen of theirs in the west; but I afterwards found that the Fúlbe in the eastern part of Ádamáwa are generally of this description, while those about the capital have a far more noble and dignified appearance. I think this may be not so much a mark of a difference of tribe, as a consequence of the low circumstances of those settled at a great distance from the seat of government, who, being still engaged in struggling for their subsistence, have not raised themselves from their original condition of humble cattle-breeders, or “berroróji,” to the proud rank of conquerors and religious reformers. Their colour certainly was not the characteristic rhubarb-colour of the Fúta Púllo, nor the deep black of the Toróde, but was a greyish sort of black, approaching what the Frenchmen call the chocolat-au-lait colour, while their small features wanted the expressiveness which those of the light Púllo generally have. They all wore shirts, which however were deficient in that cleanliness which in general is characteristic of this race. These simple visitors might perhaps have proved very interesting companions, if we had been able to understand each other; but as they spoke neither Arabic, nor Háusa, nor Kanúri, while I was but a beginner in their language, our conversation flowed but sluggishly.

I had observed in all the dwellings of the natives a very large species of fish laid to dry on the roofs of the huts; and being not a little astonished at the existence of fish of such a size in this district, where I was not aware that there existed any considerable waters, I took the earliest opportunity of inquiring whence they were brought, and, having learnt that a considerable lake was at no great distance, I intimated to Bíllama my wish to visit it. I therefore mounted on horseback with him in the afternoon, and then passing behind the eastern quarter of Íssege, and crossing a tract covered with excellent herbage, but so full of holes and crevices that the horses had great difficulty in getting over it, we reached a fine sheet of water of considerable depth, stretching from west to east, and full of large fish. All along the way we were met by natives returning from fishing, with their nets and their spoil. The fish measure generally about twenty inches in length, and seem to be of the same kind as that caught in the Tsád. The banks of the water, except on the west side, where we stood, were so hemmed in with rushes that I could not form a satisfactory estimate of its magnitude and real character; but it seems to be a hollow which is filled by the rivulet or torrent which I surveyed in its upper course the following day, and which seems to pass at a short distance to the east of this lake. The latter, however, is said always to contain water, which, as far as I know, is not the case with the river; but certainly even the lake must become much shallower in the dry season.

A small torrent joins the lake near its south-western corner; and on the banks of this torrent I observed a rounded mass of granite rising to the height of about fifteen feet, this being the only eminence in the whole plain. Though it was not elevated enough to allow me a fair survey of the plain itself, it afforded a splendid and interesting panorama of the mountains. The whole range of mountains, which forms the western barrier of the little country of Wándalá, lay open before me at the distance of about twenty miles, while behind it, towards the south, mountains of more varied shape, and greater elevation, became more visible. It was here that I obtained the first view of Mount Méndefi, or Míndif, which, since it was seen by Major Denham on his adventurous expedition against some of the Felláta settlements to the south of Morá, has become so celebrated in Europe, giving rise to all sorts of conjectures and theories. It might, indeed, even from this point be supposed to be the centre of a considerable mountain mass, surrounded as it is by several other summits of importance, particularly the Mechíka and Umshi, whilst it is in reality nothing more than a detached cone starting up from a level plain, like the Mount of Mbutúdi on a smaller scale, or that of Tákabéllo, with both of which Íbrahíma used to compare it, or the Alantíka on a larger scale. Its circumference at the base certainly does not exceed probably from ten to twelve miles, as it is partly encompassed by the straggling village of the same name, which seems to stretch out to a considerable length, or rather to be separated into two or three distinct clusters. The place has a market every Friday, which is of some importance.

From my position the top of the mount presented the shape here delineated; and even through the telescope the Míndif, as well as the singular mount of Kamálle, of which I shall soon have to speak, seemed to be of a whitish or greyish colour, which led me to the conclusion that it consisted of a calcareous rock. It was not till a much later period that I learnt, from a native of the village of Míndif, that the stone was originally quite black, not only on the surface, but all through, and extremely hard, and that the white colour is merely due to immense numbers of birds, which habitually frequent it, being nothing else than guano. I think, therefore, that this mount will eventually prove to be a basaltic cone, an ancient volcano—a character which seems to be indicated by the double horn of its summit. Its height scarcely exceeds five thousand feet above the surface of the sea, or less than four thousand feet above the plain from which it rises.

But while my attention was engaged by this mountain, on account of its having been so much talked of in Europe, another height attracted my notice much more, on account of its peculiar shape. This was Mount Kamálle, which just became visible behind the continuous mountain-chain in the foreground, like a columnar pile rising from a steep cone; it likewise seemed of a greyish colour. Between this remarkable peak and Mount Míndif several cones were descried from a greater distance, while west from the latter mountain the elevated region seemed to cease.

The highest elevation of the Wándalá range, which is called Magár, I estimated at about three thousand feet, while the chain in general did not rise more than two thousand five hundred feet above the level of the sea, or about one thousand five hundred feet above the plain. This part of the mountain-chain forms the natural stronghold of a pagan king whom my Kanúri companion constantly called “Mai Sugúr,” but whose proper name or title seems to be “Lá.”

Overjoyed at having at length reached the region of the famous Míndif, and full of plans for the future, I remounted my horse. While returning to our encampment, my companion, who was altogether a sociable and agreeable sort of person, gave me some more information with regard to the Marghí, whom he represented as a numerous tribe, stronger even at the present time than the Manga, and capable of sending thirty thousand armed men into the field. He told me that it was their peculiar custom to mourn for the death of a young man, and to make merry at the death of an old one—an account which I found afterwards confirmed, while his statement that they buried the dead in an upright position together with their weapons, furniture, and some paste of Indian corn, did not prove quite correct. In many respects they claim great superiority over their neighbours; and they practise even to a great extent inoculation for small-pox, which in Bórnu is rather the exception than the rule.

Fortunately for us in our out-of-doors encampment, the sky remained serene; and while, after a very frugal supper, we were reclining on our mats in the cool air of the evening, an interesting and animated dispute arose between Bíllama, Mʿallem Katúri, and Mohámmedu—the Ádamáwa messenger whom I have represented above as a very communicative, sociable person—about the water of Íssege, whence it came, and whither it flowed. Mohámmedu, who notwithstanding his intelligence and sprightliness was not free from absurd prejudices, contended, with the utmost pertinacity, that the water in question issued from the river Bénuwé at Kobére and ran into the Sháry, a river with which he was acquainted only by hearsay. But my prudent and experienced old Mʿallem contested this point successfully, demonstrating that the river rose in the mountains far to the north of the Bénuwé. Thus we spent the evening quite cheerfully; and the night passed without any accident, all the people sleeping in a close circle round my tent.

Monday, June 9.—At an early hour we set out on our journey, being joined by several of the Fúlbe, who had come the day before to salute me, while only one of our caravan remained behind, namely the horseman of Malá Ibrám. This whole district had formerly belonged to the last-named person; but he had lately ceded it to Abú-Bakr, the son of Sheikh ʿOmár: but we have seen what a precarious possession it was. The country through which we passed was varied and fertile, although the sky was overcast; and I was struck with the frequency of the poisonous euphorbia, called “karúgu” by the Kanúri. Further on, the crop stood already a foot high, and formed a most pleasant object. We then entered a dense forest, where the danger became considerable, an evident proof of the lawless state of the country being seen in the village Yésa, which was in some degree subject (“imána,” as the people call it, with an Arabic name) to the Sheikh ʿOmár, but had been ransacked and burnt about forty days previously by the tribe of the Gulúk. It was the first village on this road the huts of which were entirely of the construction called by the Kanúri “bóngo.”

Having stopped here a few minutes to allow the people to recruit themselves, we pushed on with speed, and soon passed the site of another village, which had been destroyed at an earlier period, having close on our left a fertile plain in a wild state, over which the mountain chain was still visible, with a glance now and then at the Míndif and Kamálle. Suddenly there was visible on this side a river from thirty to forty yards broad, and enclosed by banks about twelve feet high, with a considerable body of water, flowing through the fine but desolate plain in a northerly direction, but with a very winding course and a moderate current; and it henceforth continued on our side,—sometimes approaching, at others receding, and affording an agreeable cool draught, instead of the unwholesome stagnant water from the pools, impregnated with vegetable matter, and very often full of worms, and forming certainly one of the chief causes of disease to the foreign traveller. In this part of the forest the karáge was the most common tree, while besides it there was a considerable variety,—the tosó or kadeña, the koráwa, the kabúwi, the zíndi, and the acacia-like paipáya; the fruit of the tóso, or rather its thin pulp, and the beautiful cream-fruit of the gónda-bush (Annona palustris?) remaining our favourite dainties.

Suddenly the spirit of our little troop was roused; some naked pagans were discovered in the bushes near the stream, and so long as it was uncertain whether or not they were accompanied by a greater number, my companions were in a state of fright; but as soon as it was ascertained that the black strangers were but few, they wanted to rush upon and capture them as slaves; but Íbrahíma, with a dignified air, cried out, “Imána, imána,” intimating that the tribe was paying tribute to his master the governor of Yóla; and whether it was true or not, certainly he did well to keep these vagabonds from preying upon other people while their own safety was in danger.

At a quarter past eleven o’clock we reached the outskirts of Kófa, a village, which had been ransacked and destroyed entirely by Kashélla ʿAli,—the very act which had given rise to the complaints on the side of the governor of Ádamáwa, who claimed the supremacy over this place. Several huts had been already built up again very neatly of bongo; for this had now become the general mode of architecture, giving proof of our advancing into the heart of the tropical climes. And as the dwellings were again rising, so the inhabitants were likewise returning to their hearths.

A most interesting and cheerful incident in these unfortunate and distracted lands, where the traveller has every day to observe domestic happiness trodden under foot, children torn from the breasts of their mothers, and wives from the embraces of their husbands, was here exhibited before us. Among the people recovered from slavery by Íbrahíma’s exertions was a young girl, a native of this village, who, as soon as she recognized the place from which she had been torn, began to run as if bewildered, making the circuit of all the huts. But the people were not all so fortunate as to see again those whom they had lost; there were many sorrowful countenances among those who inquired in vain for their sons or daughters. However, I was pleased to find that Bíllama was saluted in a friendly way by the few inhabitants of the place, proving, as I thought, that, when governor of this southernmost district of Bórnu, he had not behaved so cruelly.

The country hereabouts showed a far more advanced state of vegetation than that from whence we had come, the young succulent grass reaching to the height of a foot and a half, while the corn (dáwa, or holcus) in one field measured already thirty inches in height. The fresh meadow grounds were interspersed with flowers; and a beautiful specimen of the “kangel,” measuring eight inches in diameter, was brought to me by Bíllama, being the only specimen which I have ever observed of this peculiar flower. Mr. Vogel, however, told me afterwards that he had occasionally observed it in Mándará (Wándalá).

Having dismounted under a tamarind-tree for the hot hours of the day, Bíllama, with the assistance of my old Mʿallem, gave me a list of some of the larger places in the Marghí country. West-south-west from the Marghí live the Bábur or Bábir, scattered in small hamlets over a mountainous basaltic district, with the exception of their principal seat Biyú, which is called after the name, or probably rather the title, of their chief. This place is said to be as far from Kófa as Kúkawa is from the same place, and is reported to be of large size. The Bábur have in certain respects preserved their independence, while in others, like the Marghí, they have begun to yield to the overwhelming influence of their Mohammedan neighbours. But the Marghí claim superiority over their kinsmen in point of personal courage; for of their relationship there can be no doubt.

When the sun began to decline, we pursued our march, in order to reach Laháula, where we were to pass the night. The unsafe state of the country through which we were passing was well indicated by the circumstance that even the circumspect Íbrahíma mounted the poor mare given to him by Sheikh ʿOmár, which he had spared till now. He moreover exchanged his bow for a spear. A thick tempest was gathering on the Wándalá mountains, while our motley troop wound along the narrow path,—at times through forest or underwood, at others through fine cornfields; but the country afforded a wilder and more varied aspect after we had crossed a little watercourse,—rocks projecting on all sides, sandstone and granite being intermixed, while in front of us a little rocky ridge, thickly overgrown with trees and bushes, stretched out, and seemed to hem in our passage. Suddenly, however, a deep recess was seen opening in the ridge, and a village appeared, lying most picturesquely in the natural amphitheatre, thus formed by the rocks and trees protruding everywhere from among the granite blocks, and giving a pleasant variety to the whole picture.

This was Laháula; but we had some difficulty in getting into it, the entrance to the amphitheatre being closed by a strong stockade, which left only a very narrow passage along the cliffs on the eastern side, not nearly large enough for camels; and while our troop, pushing forward in vain, fell into great confusion, the storm came on, and the rain poured down upon us in torrents. Fortunately, the shower, although heavy, did not last long, and we succeeded at length in getting in, and soon reached the first huts of the village; but our reception was not propitious. The first person who came to meet us was a mother, roused by the hope of seeing her son return as a free man from Kúkawa, where he had been carried into slavery, and filling the whole village with her lamentations and curses of the Kanúri, when she heard that her beloved had not come back, and that she should never see him again. This of course made a bad impression upon the inhabitants, and while ʿAshi, their chief, a man who, after an unsuccessful struggle with my companion Bíllama, when governor of these districts, had submitted to the sheikh, received us with kindness and benevolence, his son, in whose recently and neatly built hut the old man wished to lodge me, raised a frightful alarm, and at length, snatching up his weapon, ran off with the wildest threats. I therefore thought it best not to make use of the hut unless forced by another storm, and notwithstanding the humidity, I took up my quarters under a shed before the hut, spreading my carpet and jirbíye—woollen blanket from Jirbi—over a coarse mat of reed, as unfortunately at that time I had no sort of couch with me. There was an object of very great interest in our courtyard. It was a large pole about nine feet high above the ground, with a small cross pole which sustained an earthen pot of middling size. This was a “sáfi,” a sort of fetish, a symbolic representation, as it seems, of their god “féte,” the sun. It was a pity that we were not placed in a more comfortable position, so as to be enabled to make further inquiries with regard to this subject.

ʿAshi was kind enough to send me a large bowl of honey-water, but I was the only one of the caravan who received the least proof of hospitality; and I made myself quite comfortable, though we thought it best to look well after our firearms. During the night we were alarmed by a great noise, proceeding from the frightful shrieks of a man; and, on inquiry, we found that he had been disturbed in his sleep by a hyæna catching hold of one of his legs. Íbrahíma informed us the next morning, that a very large party among the inhabitants had entertained the design of falling during the night upon our troop and plundering us; and that nothing but the earnest representations of ʿAshi had restrained them from carrying out their intention,—the old man showing them how imprudent it would be, by one and the same act to draw upon themselves the vengeance of their two overwhelming neighbours, the sheikh of Bórnu in the north, and the governor of Fúmbiná in the south. Altogether the night was not very tranquil; and a storm breaking out at some distance, I crept into the hut, but there was no rain, only thunder and lightning. All the huts here are provided with a serír, or diggel, made of branches, upon which a coarse mat of reeds is spread.

The village seems not to be very large, containing certainly not more than about five hundred single huts, but the situation is very advantageous, enabling the inhabitants in an instant to retire upon the natural fortress of blocks overhead. They possess scarcely a single cow, but seem to prepare a great deal of vegetable butter. At least large heaps of the chestnut-like kernels of the Bassia Parkii were lying about in the courtyards. They have also a great deal of excellent honey.

Tuesday, June 10.—Leaving our quarters early, and emerging from the rocky recess by the same opening through which we had entered it the preceding evening, we halted a short time in order that the whole caravan might form closely together, for we had now the most dangerous day’s march before us, where stragglers are generally slain or carried into slavery by lurking enemies. Our whole troop was not very numerous, consisting of five horsemen and about twenty-five armed men on foot, with three camels, six sumpter-oxen, and three asses, our strength consisting entirely in my four muskets and four pairs of pistols. It was a very fine morning, and after the last night’s storm the whole country teemed with freshness and life. Moreover, it was of a varied nature, the ground consisting, at times, of bare granite, with large blocks of quartz, at others covered with black vegetable soil, with ironstone here and there, and torn by numerous small periodical watercourses descending from the rocky chain on our right, and carrying the moisture of the whole region towards the river, which still flowed on the left of our track; while granite-blocks and small ridges projected everywhere, the whole clothed with forest more or less dense, and with a great variety of foliage. Having kept on through this kind of country for about two miles and a half, we reached the deserted “ngáufate,” or encampment of Bú-Bakr, a brother of Mohammed Láwl, the governor of Ádamáwa, who had last year made an expedition into these districts, and stationing his army on this spot, had overrun the country in all directions. The encampment consisted of small round huts made of branches and grass, such as the guro-caravan generally erects daily on its “zango” or halting-place. Here we began to quicken our pace, as we were now at the shortest distance from the seats of the Báza, a powerful and independent pagan tribe, with a language, or probably dialect, of their own, and peculiar customs, who live at the foot of the eastern mountain-chain, while we left on our right Kibák and some other Marghí villages. In order to lessen a little the fatigue of the march, my attentive companion Bíllama brought me a handful of “gaude,” a yellow fruit of the size of an apricot, with a very thick peel, and, instead of a rich pulp, five large kernels filling almost the whole interior, but covered with a thin pulp of a very agreeable taste, something like the gónda.

At half-past nine, when the forest was tolerably clear, we obtained a view of a saddle-mount at some distance on our right, on the other side of which, as I was informed, the village Womde is situated: further westward lies Úgu, and, at a still greater distance, Gáya. Meanwhile we pushed on with such haste—the old Mʿallem and Bú-Sʿad, on horseback, driving my two weak camels before them as fast as they could—that the line of our troop became entirely broken; the fatáki, or tugúrchi, with their pack-oxen, and several of the dangarúnfu—namely the little tradesmen who carry their small parcels of merchandise on the head—remaining a great distance behind; but although I wished several times to halt, I could not persuade my companions to do so; and all that I was able to do for the safety of the poor people who had trusted themselves to my protection, was to send Bíllama to the rear with orders to bring up the stragglers. I shall never forget the euphonious words of the old Mʿallem with which he, though usually so humane, parried my entreaties to give the people time to come up; mixing Háusa with Kanúri, he kept exclaiming, “Awennan karága babu dádi” (“This is by no means a pleasant forest”), while he continued beating my poor camels with his large shield of antelope’s hide. At length, having entered a very dense thicket, where there was a pond of water, we halted for a quarter of an hour, when Bíllama came up with the rear, bringing me, at the same time, a splendid little gónda-fruit, which he knew I was particularly fond of.

Continuing then our march with our wonted expedition, we reached a little before one o’clock cultivated fields, where the slaves—“field hands,” as an American would say—of the people of Úba were just resting from their labour in the shade of the trees. As the slaves of Mohammedans, they all wore the leathern apron. Here we began to ascend, having a small rocky eminence on our right, and a more considerable one on our left, while in the distance, to the west, various mountain groups became visible. This line of elevation might seem to form the water partition between the basin of the Tsád and that of the Great River of Western Africa, but I am not sure of it, as I did not become distinctly aware of the relation of the rivulet of Múbi to that of Báza.

Be this as it may, this point of the route probably attains an elevation of about two thousand feet, supposing that we had ascended about eight hundred feet from Ujé, the elevation of which is twelve hundred feet above the level of the sea. Having then crossed, with some difficulty, on the part of the camels, a rugged defile, enclosed by large granite blocks, we began to descend considerably, while Mohámmedu drew my attention to the tree called “bijáge” in Fulfúlde, which grows between the granite blocks, and from which the people of Fúmbiná prepare the poison for their arrows. However I was not near enough to give even the most general account of it; it seemed to be a bush of from ten to twelve feet in height, with tolerably large leaves of an olive colour.

Emerging from this rocky passage, we began gradually to overlook the large valley stretching out to the foot of the opposite mountain chain, which seemed from this place to be uninterrupted. Its general elevation appeared to be about eight hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. We then again entered upon cultivated ground, and turning round the spur of the rocky chain on our right, on the top of which we observed the huts of the pagans, we reached the wall of Úba at two o’clock in the afternoon.

The eastern quarter of this town, the northernmost Púllo settlement in Ádamáwa on this side, consisting of a few huts scattered over a wide space, has quite the character of a new and cheerless colony in Algeria; the earthen wall is low, and strengthened with a light double fence of thorn bushes. The western quarter, however, is more thickly and comfortably inhabited; and each cluster of huts, which all consist of bongo, or rather búkka bongo, “jwarubokáru,” is surrounded with a little corn-field. It was pleasant to observe how the fences of mats, surrounding the yards, had been strengthened and enlivened by young living trees of a graceful slender appearance, instead of dull stalks, giving to the whole a much more cheerful character than is generally the case with the villages in other parts of Negroland, particularly in Bórnu proper, and promising in a short time to afford some cool shade, which is rather wanting in the place.

Passing the mosque, the “judírde,” a spacious quadrangular building, consisting entirely of halls built of mats and stalks, which must be delightfully cool in the dry season, but extremely damp during the rains, and including a large open space, we reached the lamórde (the house of the governor, or lámido); it lies on one side of a small square, or “belbel.” Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad having here fired a couple of rounds, we were soon shown into our quarters. These were of rather an indifferent description, but lying at the northern border of the inhabited quarter, and not far from the foot of the rocky ridge, they had the advantage of allowing us freedom of movement.

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We had now reached the border of Ádamáwa, the country after which I had been panting so long, and of which I had heard so many interesting accounts, a Mohammedan kingdom engrafted upon a mixed stock of pagan tribes,—the conquest of the valorous and fanatic Púllo chieftain, Ádama, over the great pagan kingdom of Fúmbiná.

I was musing over the fate of the native races of this country, when the governor, with a numerous suite, came to pay me a visit. Neither he nor any of his companions were dressed with any degree of elegance, or even cleanliness. I had endeavoured in vain to obtain information from my companions as to the period when the Fúlbe had begun to emigrate into this country; but they were unable to give me any other answer, than that they had been settled in the country from very ancient times, and that not only the fathers but even the grandfathers of the present generation had inhabited the same region as cattle-breeders, “berroróji.” Neither the governor nor any of his people were able to give me more precise information, so that I was obliged to set my hopes upon the capital, where I was more likely to find a man versed in the history of his tribe. I then communicated to my visitor my wish to ascend the ridge, which overlooks the place, and on the top of which, according to Mohámmedu, a spring bubbled up between the rocks. The governor advised me to defer the excursion till the morrow, but as the weather was fine at the time, and as at this season it was very doubtful whether it would be so the next morning, I expressed a wish to obtain at once a view at least over the opposite mountain-chain. He then told me that I might do as I liked, and followed me with his whole suite. The ridge, on this side at least, consisted entirely of enormous blocks of granite heaped one upon the other in wild confusion, and making the ascent extremely difficult, nay, impossible, without ropes, so that, with the utmost trouble, we reached the height of a little more than a hundred feet, which gave me, however, an advantageous position for obtaining a view over the broad valley and the mountain range beyond, of which, on my return journey, I made a sketch, which is represented in the woodcut on page 429.

Some of the governor’s people, however, were very agile in climbing these blocks, and they need to be so if they wish to subject the native inhabitants, who, when pursued, retire to these natural strongholds, which are scattered over nearly the whole of this country.

We had scarcely returned to our quarters, when a storm broke out, but it was not accompanied with a great quantity of rain. Our cheer was indifferent; and we passed our evening in rather a dull manner.

Wednesday, June 11.—Seeing that the weather was gloomy, and being afraid of the fatigue connected with the ascent of the ridge even along a more easy path, as I was well aware how much my constitution had been weakened, I preferred going on, and gave orders for starting. On leaving the western gate of the town, which is formed of very large trunks of trees, we entered on a tract of cornfields in a very promising condition, while at the same time a number of young jet-black slave girls, well fed, and all neatly dressed in long aprons of white clean gábagá, and having their necks adorned with strings of glass beads, were marched out to their daily labour in the field.

The town formerly extended much further in this direction, till it was ransacked and plundered by Ramadan, a slave and officer of the sheikh Mohammed el Kánemi. Before the Fúlbe occupied these regions, the slave-hunting expeditions of the people of Bórnu often extended into the very heart of Ádamáwa. The Fúlbe certainly are always making steps towards subjugating the country, but they have still a great deal to do before they can regard themselves as the undisturbed possessors of the soil. Even here, at no great distance beyond the little range which we had on our right, an independent tribe called Gílle still maintains itself, and on my return journey I shall have to relate an unsuccessful expedition of the governor of Úba against the Kilba-Gáya.

Our camels, “gelóba,” began now to be objects of the greatest curiosity and wonder to the natives; for it happens but rarely that this animal is brought into the country, as it will not bear the climate for any length of time. This is certainly a circumstance not to be lost sight of by those who contemplate trade and intercourse with the equatorial regions; but of course the European, with his energy and enterprise, might easily succeed in acclimatizing the camel by preparing himself for great losses in the beginning.

When the range on our right terminated, our view extended over a great expanse of country, from which several mountain groups started up, entirely detached one from the other and without any connecting chain, and I sketched three of them, which are represented above. Of the names of the first two, my companions were not quite sure; but they all agreed in calling the last Kilba-Gáya. In front of us a considerable mountain mass called Fingting developed itself, and behind it another with the summits Bá and Yaurogúdde. Keeping along the plain, sometimes over fine pasture-grounds, at other times over cultivated fields, and crossing several little streams, we at length came to a brook or rivulet of a somewhat larger size, which is said to issue from Mount Gúri towards the south-east, and receiving another brook coming from Mount Dáwa, runs westward.

Having here considered whether we should go on or take up our quarters in Múbi, which was close by, we decided upon the latter, and entered the place. But we had to wait a long while in front of the governor’s house, and were at length conducted into quarters so insufficient that we preferred encamping outside the town, and pitched our tent near a tree, which promised to afford us a shady place during the hot hours of the day. But we had scarcely made ourselves comfortable when the governor’s servants came and requested me most urgently to come into the town, promising us good lodgings; I therefore gave way, and told them that I would go to my promised quarters towards night. As long as the weather was dry, the open air was much more agreeable; and I turned our open encampment to account by taking accurate angles of all the summits around; but a storm in my small and weak tent was a very uncomfortable thing, and I gladly accepted the offer of good quarters for the night.

In the course of the afternoon almost the whole population of the town came out to see me and my camels, and the governor himself came on horseback, inviting me into his own house, when I showed him my chronometer, compass, and telescope, which created immense excitement, but still greater was the astonishment of those particularly who knew how to read, at the very small print in my Prayer-Book. The amiable side of the character of the Fúlbe is their intelligence and vivacity, but they have a great natural disposition to malice, and are not by any means so good-natured as the real Blacks; for they really are—certainly more in their character than in their colour—a distinct race between the Arab and Berber on the one side and the Negro stock on the other, although I would not suppose that the ancients had taken their prototype of Leucæthiopes from them. However striking may be the linguistic indications of a connection of this tribe with the Kaffers of South Africa, there can be no doubt that historically they have proceeded from the west towards the east. But of this more on another occasion.

I stayed out till the sun went down, and before leaving my open dwelling sketched the long range of mountains to the east, together with the Fingting.

Between Mount Meshíla and Mount Kírya a road leads to the seats of the Komá.

The whole plain affords excellent pasture, and the town itself is a straggling place of great extent. That part of the governor’s house which he assigned to me consisted of a courtyard with a very spacious and cool hut, having two doors or openings, and the ground-floor was strewn with pebbles instead of sand, which seems to be the custom here throughout the rainy season. My host spent a great part of the evening in our company. I made him a present of ten sheets of paper, which, as a learned man in a retired spot who had never before seen so much writing material together, caused him a great deal of delight, though he seemed to be of a sullen temper. He informed me that the Fúlbe settled here belonged to the tribe of the Híllega.

Thursday, June 12.—Although the weather was very gloomy, we set out in the morning through the rich grassy plain, which only round the settlements was laid out in cultivated fields; we crossed and re-crossed the river of the day before, which keeps meandering through the plain. When we reached the village Bagma, which was cheerfully enlivened by a numerous herd of cattle, I was struck with the size and shape of the huts, which testified to the difference of the climate which we had entered, not less than to the mode of living of the inhabitants. Some of these huts were from forty to sixty feet long, about fifteen broad, and from ten to twelve high, narrowing above to a ridge, and thatched all over, no distinction being made between roof and wall; others had a very peculiar shape, consisting of three semicircles.

The reason for making the huts so spacious is the necessity of sheltering the cattle, particularly young cattle, against the inclemency of the weather. Some of them were nothing better than stables, while others combined this distinction with that of a dwelling-house for the owner. The village is separated into two quarters by the river, and is inhabited entirely by Mohammedans. The news of a marvellous novelty soon stirred up the whole village, and young and old, male and female, all gathered round our motley troop, and thronged about us in innocent mirth, and as we proceeded the people came running from the distant fields to see the wonder; but the wonder was not myself, but the camel, an animal which many of them had never seen, fifteen years having elapsed since one had passed along this road. The chorus of shrill voices, “gelóba, gelóba,” was led by two young wanton Púllo girls, slender as antelopes, and wearing nothing but a light apron of striped cotton round their loins, who, jumping about and laughing at the stupidity of these enormous animals, accompanied us for about two miles along the fertile plain. We passed a herd of about three hundred cattle. Gradually the country became covered with forest, with the exception of patches of cultivated ground, and we entered between those mountains which had been during the whole morning in front of us; here also granite prevailed, and all the mountains were covered with underwood.

About nine o’clock the path divided, and my companions for a long time were at a loss to decide which of the two they should follow; Bíllama having some objection to pass the night in Mbutúdi, which he thought was only inhabited by pagans, and preferring Múglebú, where he had acquaintances; but at length the people of Ádamáwa carried their point, and we chose the westernmost road, which passes by Mbutúdi. The wilderness now gave way to open pastures, and we passed some cornfields when we came to the farm of a wealthy Púllo named Alkáso, who in the midst of a numerous family was leading here the life of a patriarch. Hearing that a stranger from a far-distant country was passing by, the venerable old man came out of his village to salute me, accompanied by his sons, and two of the latter, who had evidently no idea of the heresy of the Christian religion, ran a long distance by the side of my horse, and did not turn back till I had given them my blessing. Pleasant as was their innocent behaviour, showing a spirit full of confidence, I was rather glad when they were gone, as I wished to take some angles of the mountains which appeared scattered through the wild and gloomy plain on our right.

After a while the low chain of hills on our left was succeeded by a range of higher mountains attached to the broad cone of the Fáka. A little before we had obtained a view of the rocky mount of Mbutúdi, and we now observed the first gigiña (“dugbi” in Fulfúlde), or deléb-palm, the kind of Hyphæna which I have already occasionally mentioned as occurring in other localities, but which distinguishes this place in a most characteristic way. The ground was covered with rich herbage, from which numerous violets peeped forth.

We had now reached Mbutúdi, a village situated round a granite mount of about six hundred yards’ circumference, and rising to the height of about three hundred feet. It had been a considerable place before the rise of the Fúlbe, encompassing on all sides the mount, which had served as a natural citadel; but it has been greatly reduced, scarcely more than one hundred huts altogether now remaining; and were it not for the picturesque landscape—the steep rocky mount overgrown with trees, and the slender deléb-palms shooting up here and there, and forming some denser groups on the south-east side,—it would be a most miserable place.

My companions were greatly astonished to find that, since they went to Kúkawa, some Fúlbe families had settled here: for formerly none but native pagans lived in the village. It was, therefore, necessary that we should address ourselves to this ruling class; and after we had waited some time in the shade of some caoutchouc-trees, a tall, extremely slender Púllo, of a very noble expression of countenance, and dressed in a snow-white shirt, made his appearance, and after the usual exchange of compliments, and due inquiry on the part of my companions after horse, cattle, mother, slaves, and family[55], conducted us to a dwelling not far from the eastern foot of the rock, consisting of several small huts, with a tall gigiña in the middle of its courtyard, which was never deserted by some large birds of the stork family,—most probably some European wanderers. However, it had the great disadvantage of being extremely wet, so that I preferred staying outside; and going to some distance from the huts, I laid myself down in the shade of a tree, where the ground was comparatively dry. The weather had been very cool and cheerless in the morning, and I was glad when the sun at length came forth, increasing the interest of the landscape, of which I took a view.[56]

I here tried, for the first time, the fruit of the deléb-palm, which were just ripe; but I did not find it worth the trouble, as it really requires a good deal of effort to suck out the pulp, which is nothing but a very close and coarse fibrous tissue, not separating from the large stone, and having a mawkish taste, which soon grows disagreeable. It cannot be at all compared with the banana, and still less with the fruit of the gónda-tree. It is, when full grown, from six to eight inches long and four inches across, and of a yellowish-brown colour; the kernel is about two inches and a half long and one inch thick. However, it is of importance to the natives, and, like the fruit of the dúm-palm, it yields a good seasoning for some of their simple dishes. They make use of the stone also, breaking and planting it in the ground, when, in a few days, a blade shoots forth with a very tender root, which is eaten just like the kelingoes; this is called “múrrechi” by the Háusa people, “báchul” by the Fúlbe, both of whom use it very extensively. But it is to be remarked that the gigiña, or deléb-palm, is extremely partial in its local distribution, and seems not at all common in Ádamáwa, being, as my companions observed, here confined to a few localities, such as Láro and Song; while in the Músgu country it is, according to my own observation, the predominant tree; and, from information, I conclude this to be the case also in the southern provinces of Bagírmi, particularly in Sómray and Day. However, the immense extension of this palm, which, probably, is nearly related to the Borassus flabelliformis, through the whole breadth of Central Africa, from Kordofán to the Atlantic, is of the highest importance.

While resting here I received a deputation of the heads of families of the Fúlbe, who behaved very decently, and were not a little excited by the performances of my watch and compass. I then determined to ascend the rock, which commands and characterises the village, although, being fully aware of the debilitated state of my health, I was somewhat afraid of any great bodily exertion. It was certainly not an easy task, as the crags were extremely steep, but it was well worth the trouble, although the view over an immense expanse of country was greatly interrupted by the many small trees and bushes which are shooting out between the granite blocks.

After I had finished taking angles I sat down on this magnificent rocky throne, and several of the natives having followed me, I wrote from their dictation a short vocabulary of their language, which they call “Záni,” and which I soon found was intimately related to that of the Marghí. These poor creatures seeing, probably for the first time, that a stranger took real interest in them, were extremely delighted in hearing their words pronounced by one whom they thought almost as much above them as their god “féte,” and frequently corrected each other when there was a doubt about the meaning of the word. The rock became continually more and more animated, and it was not long before two young Fúlbe girls also, who from the first had cast a kindly eye upon me, came jumping up to me, accompanied by an elder married sister. One of these girls was about fifteen, the other about eight or nine years of age. They were decently dressed as Mohammedans, in shirts covering the bosom, while the pagans, although they had dressed for the occasion, wore nothing but a narrow strip of leather passed between the legs, and fastened round the loins, with a large leaf attached to it from behind; the women were, besides, ornamented with the “kadáma,” which is the same as the seghéum of the Marghí, and worn in the same way, stuck through the under lip, but a little larger. Their prevailing complexion was a yellowish-red, like that of the Marghí, with whom, a few centuries ago, they evidently formed one nation. Their worship, also, is nearly the same.

At length I left my elevated situation, and with a good deal of trouble succeeded in getting down again; but the tranquillity which I had before enjoyed was now gone, and not a moment was I left alone. All these poor creatures wanted to have my blessing; and there was particularly an old blacksmith, who, although he had become a proselyte to Islám, pestered me extremely with his entreaties to benefit him by word and prayer. They went so far as to do me the honour, which I of course declined, of identifying me with their god “féte,” who, they thought, might have come to spend a day with them, to make them forget their oppression and misfortunes. The pagans, however, at length left me when night came on, but the Fúlbe girls would not go, or if they left me for a moment, immediately returned, and so stayed till midnight. The eldest of the unmarried girls made me a direct proposal of marriage, and I consoled her by stating that I should have been happy to accept her offer if it were my intention to reside in the country. The manners of people who live in these retired spots, shut out from the rest of the world, are necessarily very simple and unaffected; and this poor girl had certainly reason to look out for a husband, as at fifteen she was as far beyond her first bloom as a lady of twenty-five in Europe.

Friday, June 13.—Taking leave of these good people, the girl looking rather sorrowful as I mounted my horse, we resumed our march the following morning, first through cornfields,—the grain here cultivated being exclusively géro or Pennisetum,—then over rich and thinly wooded pastures, having the mountain-chain of the “Fálibé” constantly at some distance. The atmosphere was extremely humid, and rain-clouds hung upon the mountains. Further on the ground consisted entirely of red loam, and was so torn up by the rain, that we had great difficulty and delay in leading the camels round the gaps and ravines. Dense underwood now at times prevailed, and a bush called “baubaw,” producing an edible fruit, here first fell under my observation; there was also another bulbous plant, which I had not observed before. The karáge here, again, was very common. Gradually the whole country became one continuous wilderness, with the surface greatly undulating, and almost hilly; and here we passed a slave village, or “rúmde,” in ruins, the clay-walls being all that remained.

The country wore a more cheerful appearance after nine o’clock, when we entered on a wide extent of cultivated ground, the crops standing beautifully in the fields, and the village or villages of Segéro appearing higher up on the slope of the heights, in a commanding situation. Segéro consists of two villages separated by a ravine, or hollow with a watercourse, the northernmost of them, to which we came first, being inhabited jointly by the conquering tribe of the Fúlbe and the conquered one of the Holma, while the southern village is exclusively occupied by the ruling race. To this group we directed our steps, passing close by the former, where I made a hasty sketch of the outlines of Mount Holma.

The lámido, or mayor, being absent at the time, we dismounted under the public shade in front of his house, till a comfortable spacious shed in the inner courtyard of his dwelling was placed at my disposal; and here I began immediately to employ my leisure hours in the study of the Fulfúlde, as I became fully aware that the knowledge of this language was essential to my plans, if I wished to draw all possible advantage from my proceedings. For these simple people, who do not travel, but reside all their life long in their secluded homes, with the exception of a few predatory expeditions against the pagans, know no other language than their own; several of them, however, understand the written Arabic tolerably well, but are unable to speak it. Meanwhile, a large basketful of ground-nuts, in the double shell, just as they came from the ground, was placed before us; and after a while, three immense calabashes of a thick soup, or porridge, made of the same material, were brought in for the refreshment of our whole troop.

Ground-nuts form here a very large proportion of the food of the people, just in the same proportion as potatoes do in Europe, and the crops of corn having failed the last year, the people had very little besides. Ground-nuts, that is to say the species of them which is called “kolche” in Kanúri, and “biríji” in Fulfúlde, which was the one grown here, as it seems, exclusively, I like very much, especially if roasted, for nibbling after supper, or even as a substitute for breakfast on the road, but I should not like to subsist upon them. In fact, I was scarcely able to swallow a few spoonfuls of this sort of porridge, which was not seasoned with honey; but I must confess that the spoons, which the people here use for such purposes, are rather large, being something like a scoop, and made likewise of a kind of gourd; the half of the Cucurbita lagenaria split in two, so that the handle at the same time forms a small channel, and may be used as a spout. Nature in these countries has provided everything; dishes, bottles, and drinking-vessels are growing on the trees, rice in the forest, and the soil without any labour produces grain. The porridge can certainly be made more palatable by seasoning; and, if boiled with milk, is by no means disagreeable. The other kind of ground-nut, the “gángala,” or “yerkúrga,” which is far more oily, and which I did not see at all in Ádamáwa, I do not like; though the people used to say that it is much more wholesome than the other kind. For making oil it is evidently the more valuable of the two. I will only add, that on this occasion I learned that the Fúlbe in this part of the country make also a similar porridge of sesamum, which they call “marasíri,” and even of the habb el ʿazíz, or the gojíya of the Háusa—the nebú of the Bórnu people. Sesamum I have frequently eaten in Negroland as a paste, or hasty pudding, but never in the form of a porridge.

The reason why the corn had failed was, that most of the men had gone to the war last year; the turbulent state of the country thus operating as a great drawback upon the cultivation of the ground. I must also observe how peculiarly the different qualities of the soil in neighbouring districts are adapted for different species of grain; while in Mbutúdi, as I said, millet, géro, or Pennisetum typhoïdeum, was cultivated almost exclusively, here it was the dáwa, “báiri” in Fulfúlde, or sorghum, and principally the red sort, or “báiri bodéri.” Having restored our vital strength with this famous pap of ground-nuts, and having filled our pockets, and the nose-bags of the horses too, with the remains of the great basket, we set out again on our journey in the afternoon, for it appeared to me evident that none of my companions was fond of a strict ground-nut diet, and hence would rather risk a storm than a supper of this same dish. It had become our general rule to finish our day’s journey in the forenoon, as the tempest generally set in in the afternoon.

The fields were well cultivated; but the corn on the more elevated spots stood not more than a foot high. The ground-nuts are cultivated between the corn, the regular spaces which are left between each stalk being sufficient for growing a cluster of nuts underground; just in the same way as beans are cultivated in many parts of Negroland. The fields were beautifully shaded and adorned by the butter-tree, “tóso,” or, as the Fúlbe call it, “kárehi,” in the plural form “karéji,” which was here the exclusively predominant tree, and of course is greatly valued by the natives. Everywhere the people were busy in the fields; and altogether the country, enclosed by several beautifully shaped mountain ranges and by detached mountains, presented a most cheerful sight, all the patches of grass being diversified and embellished with a kind of violet-coloured lily.

We now gradually approached the foot of Mount Holma, behind which another mountain began to rise into view; while on our left we passed a small “rúmde,” or slave-village, and then entered a sort of defile. We were greatly afraid lest we should be punished for the gastronomic transgression of our travelling rule, as a storm threatened us from behind; but we had time to reach Badaníjo in safety. Punished, however, we were, like the man who despised his peas; for, instead of finding here full bowls of pudding, we could not even procure the poor ground-nuts; and happy was he who had not neglected to fill his pockets from the full basket in Segéro.

We had the utmost difficulty in buying a very small quantity of grain for the horses; so that they also came in for a share in the remains of the ground-nuts of Segéro; and my host especially was such a shabby, inhospitable fellow, that it was painful to speak a word to him. However, it seemed that he had reason to complain, having been treated very harshly by oppressive officers, and having lost all his cattle by disease. Not a drop of milk was to be got in the village, all the cattle having died. The cattle, at least those of the large breed, which apparently has been introduced into the country by the Fúlbe, seem not yet quite acclimatized, and are occasionally decimated by disease.

Badaníjo is very picturesquely situated in a beautiful irregularly shaped valley, surrounded on all sides by mountains, which are seen from the interior of the valley. The scarcity of provisions was entirely due to the great expedition of last year, which had taken away all hands from the labours of the field; for the land around here is extremely fertile, and at present, besides sorghum or holcus, produced dánkali, or sweet potatoes, góza, or yams, manioc, and a great quantity of gunna, a large variety of calabash (Fueillea trilobata, Cucurbita maxima?). Badaníjo is also interesting and important to the ethnologist, as being the northernmost seat of the extensive tribe of the Falí, or Farí, which, according to the specimens of its language which I was able to collect, is entirely distinct from the tribe of the Bátta and their kinsmen the Záni and Marghí, and seems to have only a remote affinity with the Wándalá and Gámerghú languages. At present the village is principally, but not exclusively, inhabited by the ruling race, and I estimated the population at about three thousand.

Saturday, June 14.—After we had left the rich vegetation which surrounds the village, we soon entered a wild and hilly district, and while passing over the spur of a rocky eminence on our left, observed close to the brink of the cliffs overhanging our heads the huts of the pagan village Búggela, and heard the voices of the natives, while at some distance on our right detached hills, all of which seemed to consist of granite, rose from the rugged and thickly wooded plain. The rugged nature of this country increases the importance of Badaníjo in a strategical point of view. The country became continually more rocky and rugged, and there was scarcely a narrow path leading through the thick underwood, so that my friend the pilgrim from Mélle, who rode his tall camel, had the greatest possible trouble to make his way through; however, I had reason to admire his dexterity. All through Negroland, where so many extensive tracts are covered with forest, travelling on camel’s back is very troublesome. It was certainly very lucky for us that for the last five days scarcely any rain had fallen, otherwise the path would have been extremely difficult.

However, when we reached the village Kurúlu, the country improved, spreading out into wide pastures and cultivated fields, although it remained hilly and rather rugged; even close to the village a lower range appeared, and granite masses projected everywhere. A short distance further on I sketched Mount Kurúlu and the heights near it.

Several of our party had gone into the village, and obtained some cold paste, made of a peculiar species of sorghum, of entirely red colour. This red grain, “ja-n-dáwa,” or “báiri bodéri,” which I have already had occasion to mention, is very common in the southern parts of Negroland, below the tenth degree of latitude, and in some districts, as in the Músgu country, seems to prevail almost exclusively; but it was at the time new to me, and I found it extremely nauseous. The paste of white durra, “fári-n-dáwa,” or “báiri dhannéri,” is generally so well cooked in Ádamáwa, being formed into large rolls of four inches in length, and from two to three inches thick in the middle, that even when cold it is quite eatable, and in this state generally formed my breakfast on the road; for my palatable chébchebé from Kúkawa, like all nice things in the world, were soon gone.

Gradually we entered another rugged wilderness, from which we did not emerge till a quarter before ten o’clock, when a máriná, or dyeing-place, indicated the neighbourhood of a centre of civilization unusual in this country. A few minutes more, and we reached the northern village of Saráwu, which is inhabited almost exclusively by Bórnu people, and is therefore called Saráwu Beréberé. On the side from which we arrived the village is open, and does not seem to be thickly inhabited, but further to the south the population is denser. Having halted some time on a small open space in the middle of the village in the shade of a small terebinth, we were conducted into very excellent quarters, which seem to deserve a short description.

It was a group of three huts, situated in the midst of a very spacious outer yard, which was surrounded by a light fence of corn-stalks. The huts consisted of clay walls with a thatched roof of very careful workmanship, and were joined together by clay walls. The most spacious of these huts (a), of about twelve feet in diameter, formed the entrance-hall and the parlour, being furnished with two doors or openings, one on the side of the outer, and the other on the side of the inner courtyard, from which the two other huts (b and c), destined for the women, had their only access. The outer opening or door of the chief hut (a), therefore, although rather small according to our ideas, was very large considering the general custom of the country, measuring three feet and a half in height, and sixteen inches in the widest part, its form being that of an egg.

In this hut there was only one very large couch measuring seven feet and a half in length by five in width, and raised three feet above the floor, made of clay over a frame of wood, on the right side of the door, where the landlord used to receive his guests, the remaining part of the hut being empty, and capable of receiving a good many people. Between the couch and the door there was a fireplace, or fúgodí, or fúgo kánnurám in Kanúri, “hobbunírde” in Fulfúlde, formed by three stones of the same size. Of this airy room I myself took possession, spreading my carpet upon the raised platform, while the Mʿallem, my servants, and whosoever paid me a visit, found a place on the floor. The wall, which was rather thicker than usual, was all coloured with a reddish-brown tint, and upon this ground several objects had been so unartistically delineated, that, with the exception of wooden tablets, “alló,” such as the boys here use in learning to write, it was impossible to tell what they were intended for.

The hut opposite this parlour (b), which was smaller than (a) but larger than (c), seemed intended for the ordinary dwelling of the landlady, being ornamented in the background with the “gángar,” as it is called in Kanúri, “nanne” in Fulfúlde, a raised platform or sideboard for the cooking utensils; here four large-sized new jars were placed, as in battle array, surmounted by smaller ones. With regard to the other arrangements the two huts were of similar construction, having on each side a couch, one for the man and the other for his wife. In both the woman’s couch was the better one, being formed of clay on a wooden frame, and well protected from prying eyes by a thin clay wall, about five feet high, and handsomely ornamented in the following way: running not only along the side of the door, but enclosing also half of the other side, it excluded all impertinent curiosity; while the man’s couch, which was less regular and comfortable, reached to the very border of the door, and on this side had the protection only of a thin clay wall, without ornaments. With the privacy thus attained, the size of the doors was in entire harmony, being of an oval shape, and very small, particularly in (c), measuring only about two feet in height, and ten inches in width, a size which I am afraid would refuse a passage to many a European lady; indeed, it might seem rather intended to keep a married lady within doors, after she had first contrived to get in.

Notwithstanding the scanty light falling into the interior of the hut, through the narrow doorway, it was also painted, (c) in this respect surpassing its sister hut in the harmony of its colours, which formed broad alternate bands of white and brown, and gave the whole a very stately and finished character. The whole arrangement of these two huts bore distinct testimony to a greatly developed sense of domestic comfort. In the wall of the courtyard, between (b) and (c), there was a small backdoor, raised above the ground, and of diminutive size (f), apparently intended for admitting female visitors, without obliging them to pass through the parlour, and at the same time showing much confidence in the discretion of the female department. In the courtyard were two large-sized jars, (g) the larger one being the bázam or corn-jar, and the smaller (d) the gébam or water-jar. In the corner, formed between the hut (a) and the wall of the courtyard, was the “fúgodí,” or kitchen, on a small scale.

The house belonged to a private man, who was absent at the time. From the outer courtyard, which, as I have observed, was spacious, and fenced only with corn-stalks, there was an interesting panorama over a great extent of country to the south, and I was enabled to take a great many angles. From this place also I made the sketch of a cone (page 442) which seemed to me very picturesque, but the exact name of which I could not learn.

Saráwu is the most elevated place on the latter part of this route, although the highest point of the water-partition, between the basin of the Tsád and that of the so-called Niger, as I stated before, seems to be at the pass north of Úba. The difference between the state of the corn here and in Múbi and thereabout was very remarkable. The crop stood here scarcely a few inches above the ground.[57] The soil also around the place is not rich, the mould being thin upon the surface of the granite, which in many places lies bare. The situation of Saráwu is very important on account of its being the point where the road from Logón and all the north-eastern part of Ádamáwa, which includes some very considerable centres of industry and commerce, particularly Fátawel, the entrepôt of all the ivory trade in these quarters, joins the direct road from Kúkawa to the capital. Cotton is cultivated here to some extent. Ádamáwa is a promising country of colonies.

Saráwu, too, was suffering from dearth from the same reason which I have explained above; the second crop, which is destined to provide for the last and most pressing period, while the new crop is ripening, not having been sown at all last year on account of the expedition, so that we had great difficulty in obtaining the necessary corn for our five horses. It would, however, have been very easy for me to obtain a sufficient supply if I had demanded a small fee for my medical assistance, as I had a good many patients who came to me for remedies; but this I refrained from doing. I had here some very singular cases, which rather exceeded my skill; and among others there was a woman who had gone with child full two years, without any effort on the part of her imaginary offspring to come forth, and who came to me now with full confidence that the far-famed stranger would be able to help her to motherhood. Among the people who visited me there was also a Tébu, or rather Tedá, who in his mercantile rambles had penetrated to this spot; indeed these people are very enterprising, but in general their journeys lie more in the direction of Wándalá, where they dispose of a great quantity of glass beads. This man had resided here some time, but was not able to give me much information. He, however, excited my curiosity with regard to two white women, whom I was to see in Yóla, brought there from the southern regions of Ádamáwa, and who he assured me were at least as white as myself. But, after all, this was not saying much; for my arms and face at that time were certainly some shades darker than the darkest Spaniard or Italian. I had heard already several people speak of these women, and the natives had almost made them the subject of a romance, spreading the rumour that my object in going to Yóla was to get a white female companion. I shall have occasion to speak about a tribe of lighter colour than usual in the interior, not far from the coast of the Cameroons, and there can be no doubt about the fact. My short and uncomfortable stay in the capital of Ádamáwa deprived me of the opportunity of deciding with regard to the exact shade of these people’s complexion, but I think it is a yellowish-brown.

Sunday, June 15.—Having been busy in the morning writing Fulfúlde, I mounted my horse about ten o’clock, accompanied by Bíllama and Bú-Sʿad, in order to visit the market, which is held every Thursday and Sunday, on a little eminence at some distance from the Bórnu village, and close to the south-east side of Saráwu Fulfúlde, separated from the latter by a ravine. The market was furnished with thirty-five stalls made of bushes and mats, and was rather poorly attended. However, it must be taken into consideration, that during the season of field-labours all markets in Negroland are much less considerable than at other seasons of the year. There were a good many head of cattle for sale, while two oxen were slaughtered for provision, to be cut up and sold in small parcels. The chief articles besides were ground-nuts, butter, a small quantity of rice, salt, and soap. Soap, indeed, is a very important article in any country inhabited by Fúlbe, and it is prepared in every household; while very often, even in large places inhabited by other tribes, it is quite impossible to obtain this article, so essential for cleanliness. No native grain of any kind was in the market,—a proof of the great dearth which prevailed throughout the country. A few túrkedí were to be seen; and I myself introduced a specimen of this article, in order to obtain the currency of the country for buying small matters of necessity.

The standard of the market is the native cotton, woven, as it is, all over Negroland, in narrow strips called “léppi,” of about two inches and a quarter in width, though this varies greatly. Shells (“kurdí,” or “chéde”) have no currency. The smallest measure of cotton is the “nánandé,” measuring ten “drʿa” or “fóndudé” (sing. “fóndukí”), equal to four fathoms, “káme” or “nándudé” (sing. “nándukí”). Seven nánandé make one “dóra”—meaning a small shirt of extremely coarse workmanship, and scarcely to be used for dress; and from two to five dóra make one thób or “gaffaléul” of variable size and quality. The túrkedí which I introduced into the market, and which I had bought in Kanó for 1800 kurdí, was sold for a price equivalent to 2500 shells, which certainly is not a great profit, considering the danger of the road. However, it must be borne in mind that what I bought for 1800, a native certainly would have got for 1600, and would perhaps have sold for 2800 or more.

Having caused some disturbance to the usual quiet course of business in the market, I left Bú-Sʿad behind me to buy some articles which we wanted, and proceeded with my kashélla towards the ravine, and ascending the opposite bank, entered the straggling quarter of the Fúlbe, which, in a very remarkable manner, is adorned with a single specimen of the charming gónda-tree, or “dukúje” (the Carica papaya), and a single specimen of the gigiña or dugbi, the Hyphæna which I have frequently mentioned; at all events not more than these two specimens are seen rearing their tapering forms above the huts and fences. Then we directed our steps towards the dwelling of the governor, which impressed me by its magnificence when compared with the meanness of the cottages around. A very spacious oblong yard, surrounded with a high clay wall, encircled several apartments, the entrance being formed by a round cool hut of about twenty-five feet diameter, the clay walls of which, from the ground to the border of the thatched roof, measured about ten feet in height, and had two square doors of about eight feet in height, one towards the street, and the other on the inside,—altogether a splendid place in the hot season. Here, too, the floor was at present thickly strewn with pebbles.

But the master of this noble mansion was an unhappy blind man, who, leaning upon the shoulders of his servants, was led into the room by a mʿallem or módibo, one of the finest men I have seen in the country, and more like a European than a native of Negroland, tall and broad-shouldered, and remarkably amiable and benevolent. The governor himself, also, was remarkably tall and robust for a Púllo. The módibo, who spoke Arabic tolerably well and officiated as interpreter, had heard a good deal about me, and was most anxious to see those curious instruments which had been described to him; and as I wore the chronometer and compass constantly attached to my waist, I was able to satisfy his curiosity, which, in so learned a man, was less vain and more interesting than usual. But the poor blind governor felt rather uneasy because he could not see these wonders with his own eyes, and endeavoured to indemnify himself by listening to the ticking of the watch, and by touching the compass. But he was more disappointed still when I declared that I was unable to restore his sight, which after all the stories he had heard about me, he had thought me capable of doing; and I could only console him by begging him to trust in “Jaumiráwo” (the Lord on High). As, on setting out, I did not know that we were going to pay our respects to this man, I had no present to offer him except a pair of English scissors, and these of course, in his blindness, he was unable to value, though his companion found out immediately how excellent they were for cutting paper. The governor is far superior in power to his neighbours, and besides Saráwu, Kurúndel, or Korúlu, and Bíngel are subject to his government.

While recrossing the ravine on my return to Saráwu Beréberé, I observed with great delight a spring of water bubbling up from the soil, and forming a small pond—quite a new spectacle for me. After I had returned to my quarters I was so fortunate as to make a great bargain in cloves, which I now found out was the only article in request here. The Bórnu women seemed amazingly fond of them, and sold the nánandé of léppi for thirty cloves, when, seeing that they were very eager to buy, I raised the price of my merchandise, offering only twenty-five. I had also the luck to buy several fowls and sufficient corn for three horses, with a pair of scissors; and as my mʿallem Katúri had several old female friends in the village who sent him presents, we all had plenty to eat that day. But nevertheless my old friend the mʿallem was not content, but, in the consciousness of his own merits, picked a quarrel with me because I refused to write charms for the people, while they all came to me, as the wisest of our party; and had I done so, we might all have lived in the greatest luxury and abundance.

In the evening, while a storm was raging outside, Bíllama gave me a list of the most important persons in the capital of the country which we were now fast approaching. Mohammed Láwl, the son of Mʿallem Ádama, has several full-grown brothers, who all figure occasionally as leaders of great expeditions, and also others of more tender age. The eldest of these is Bú-bakr (generally called Mʿallem Bágeri), who last year conducted the great expedition towards the north; next follows Aíjo; then Mʿallem Mansúr, a man whom Bíllama represented to me as of special importance for me, on account of his being the favourite of the people, and amicably disposed towards Bórnu, ʿOmáro, Zubéru, Hámidu. Of the other people, he represented to me as the most influential—Móde Hassan, the kádhi; Móde ʿAbdallahi, the secretary of state; and the Ardo Ghámmawa, as commander of the troops. As the most respectable Háusa people settled in Yóla, he named Káiga Hámma Serkí-n-Góber, Mai Konáma, Mágaji-n-Hadder, Mai Hadder, and Búwári (Bokhári). I introduce this notice, as it may prove useful in case of another expedition up the river Bénuwé.

Monday, June 16.—Starting at an early hour we passed the market-place, which to-day was deserted, and then left the Púllo town on one side. The country being elevated, and the path winding, we had every moment a new view of the mountains around us; and before we began to descend I made the accompanying sketch of the country behind us, stretching from N. 30 E. to E. 20 N.

The country continued rugged and rocky, though it was occasionally interrupted by cultivated ground, and a mountain group of interesting form, called Kónkel, stood out on our right.

Having entered at eight o’clock upon cultivated ground of great extent, we reached a quarter of an hour afterwards Bélem, the residence of Mʿallem Dalíli, a man whom I had heard much praised in Saráwu. Bíllama wished to spend the day here, but I was very anxious to proceed, as we had already lost the preceding day; but at the same time I desired to make the acquaintance of, and to pay my respects to, a person whom every one praised for his excellent qualities. I therefore sent forward the camels with the men on foot, while I myself entered the village with the horsemen. Crossing a densely inhabited quarter, we found the mʿallem sitting under a tree in his courtyard, a venerable and benevolent-looking old man, in a threadbare blue shirt and a green “báki-n-záki.” We had scarcely paid our respects to him, and he had asked a few general questions in Arabic, when an Arab adventurer from Jedda, with the title of sheríf, who had roved a good deal about the world, made his appearance, and was very inquisitive to know the motives which had carried me into this remote country; and Bú-Sʿad thought it prudent to pique his curiosity, by telling him that we had come to search for the gold and silver in the mountains. Old Mʿallem Dalíli soon after began to express himself to the effect that he should feel offended if I would not stay with him till the afternoon; and I was at length obliged to send for the camels, which had already gone on a good way.

A rather indifferent lodging being assigned to me, I took possession of the shade of a rími, or béntehi,—the bentang-tree of Mungo Park (Eriodendron Guineense), of rather small size, and there tried to resign myself quietly to the loss of another day, while in truth I burned with impatience to see the river which was the first and most important object of my journey. However, my quarters soon became more interesting to me, as I observed here several peculiarities of arrangement, which, while they were quite new to me, were most characteristic of the equatorial regions which I was approaching. For while in Bórnu and Háusa it is the general custom to expose the horses, even very fine ones, to all changes of the weather,—which on the whole are not very great,—in these regions, where the wet season is of far longer duration and the rains much heavier, it is not prudent to leave the animals unsheltered, and stables are built for them on purpose,—round spacious huts with unusually high clay walls; these are called “debbíru” by the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa, from the Háusa word “débbi.” Even for the cattle there was here a stable, but more airy, consisting only of a thatched roof supported by thick poles, and enclosed with a fence of thorny bushes.

The vegetation in the place was very rich, and an experienced botanist might have found many new species of plants, while to me the most remarkable circumstance was the quantity of Palma Christi scattered about the place, a single specimen of the gónda-tree, and the first specimen of a remarkable plant which I had not observed before on my travels,—a smooth soft stem about ten inches thick at the bottom, and shooting up to a height of about twenty-five feet, but drawn downwards and inclined by the weight and size of its leaves, which measured six feet in length and about twenty inches in breadth. The Háusa people gave it the name “alléluba,” a name generally given to quite a different tree which I have mentioned in speaking of Kanó. The plant bears some resemblance to the Musa, or banana; fruits or flowers it had none at present.

I had been roving about for some time when the sheríf, whom I mentioned above, came to pay me a visit, when I learned that he had come to this place by way of Wadáy and Logón, and that he had been staying here already twenty days, being engaged in building a warm bath for the mʿallem, as he had also done for the sultan of Wadáy.

The reader sees that these wandering Arabs are introducing civilization into the very heart of this continent, and it would not be amiss if they could all boast of such accomplishments; but this rarely happens. Even this very man was a remarkable example of these saintly adventurers so frequently met with in Negroland, but who begin to tire out the patience of the more enlightened princes of the country. He brought me a lump of native home-made soap, with which, as he said, I might “wash my clothes, as I came from the dirty, soapless country of Bórnu.” This present was not ill-selected, although I hope that the reader will not thence conclude that I was particularly dirty,—at least, not more so than an African traveller might be fairly expected to be. I had laid in a good store of cloves, which, as I have had already occasion to mention, are highly esteemed here, so I made him very happy by giving him about half-a-pound weight of them.

More interesting, however, to me than the visit of this wandering son of the East was the visit of two young native noblemen, sons of the Ardo Jídda, to whom belongs the country between Sugúr and Wándalá or Mándará, and the younger of whom was a remarkably handsome man, of slender form, light complexion, and a most agreeable expression of countenance. This, however, is a remark which I have often made on my travels, that the males among the Fúlbe are very handsome till they reach the age of about twenty years, when they gradually assume an apish expression of countenance, which entirely spoils the really Circassian features which they have in early life. As for the females, they preserve their beauty much longer. While these young men were giving unrestrained vent to their admiration of my things, the old mʿallem came with a numerous suite of attendants; whereupon they drew shyly back, and sat silently at a distance. In this part of the world there is a great respect for age.

The mʿallem and his companions were not only astonished at my instruments, but manifested much curiosity about the map of Africa, which I unfolded before their eyes, being greatly struck by the extent of the continent towards the south, of which they had previously no idea. I shall show in another part of this work how far the Fúlbe have become acquainted with the regions about the equator, and how a faint rumour of the strong pagan kingdom of Muropúwe has spread over the kingdoms of North Central Africa. Their esteem for me increased when I showed them my little Prayer-Book, which I wore in a red case slung round my shoulders, just as they wear their Kurán; indeed a Christian can never be more sure of acquiring the esteem of a Moslim—at least of a learned one—than when he shows himself impressed with the sentiments of his religion; but he must not be a zealous Roman Catholic, nor broach doctrines which seem to deny the Unity of God. He took great delight in hearing a psalm of the well-known “nebí Dáúd” (David) read in English. He, as well as almost all his companions, spoke Arabic; for, as Saráwu Beréberé is a colony of Bórnu people, Bélem is a pure Arabic colony, that is to say, a colony of the Sálamát, a tribe widely scattered over Bórnu and Wadáy. Mʿallem Óro, or, as he is popularly called, on account of his humility and devotedness, Mʿallem Dalíli, was born in Wadáy, but settled in Bórnu, from whence at the time of the conquest of the country by the Fúlbe or Felláta (in the year 1808) he fled to avoid famine and oppression, like so many other unfortunate inhabitants of that kingdom, and founded a village in this promising region. This is the country for colonies, and I do not see why a colony of the liberated slaves of Sierra Leone might not be advantageously established here. All these people wear indigo-coloured shirts, and in this manner, even by their dress, are distinguished from the Fúlbe. They are tolerated and protected, although a Púllo head man has his residence here, besides the mʿallem.

We were to start in the afternoon; but my stupid Fezzáni servant, Mohammed ben Habíb, had almost killed himself with eating immoderately of ground-nuts, and was so seriously ill that I was reduced to the alternative either of leaving him behind or waiting for him. Choosing the latter, I made a day of feasting for the whole of my little company, the mʿallem sending me a goat for my people, a couple of fowls for myself, and corn for my horses; besides which, I was so fortunate as to buy a supply of rice. In consideration of his hospitable treatment, I sent the old mʿallem a bit of camphor and a parcel of cloves. Camphor is a most precious thing in these regions, and highly esteemed by the nobler classes, and I cannot too strongly recommend a traveller to provide himself with a supply of it. It is obvious that a small quantity, if well kept, will last him a long time. He may find an opportunity of laying a man of first-rate importance under lasting obligations by a present of a small piece of camphor.

Tuesday, June 17.—We at length set out to continue our journey. The morning was beautifully fresh and cool after the last night’s storm, the sky was clear, and the country open and pleasant. A fine grassy plain, with many patches of cultivated ground, extended on our right to the very foot of Mount Kónkel, which as I now saw is connected by a lower ridge with Mount Holma. We passed the ruins of the village Bíngel, the inhabitants of which had transferred their settlement nearer to the foot of the mountains. Then followed forest, interrupted now and then by cornfields. My friends, the young sons of Ardo Jídda, accompanied me for full two hours on horseback, when they bade me a friendly farewell, receiving each of them, to his great delight, a stone-set ring, which I begged them to present to their ladies as a memorial of the Christian traveller. I now learnt that the young men were already mixing a good deal in politics; the younger brother, who was much the handsomer, and seemed to be also the more intelligent of the two, had till recently administered the government of his blind father’s province, but had been deposed on account of his friendly disposition towards Wándalá, having married a princess of that country, and the management of affairs had been transferred to his elder brother.

Forest and cultivated ground alternately succeeded each other; a little after nine o’clock we passed on our left a small “rúmde,” or slave-village, with ground-nuts and holcus in the fields, and most luxuriant pasture all around. The country evidently sloped southwards, and at a little distance beyond the village I observed the first watercourse, running decidedly in that direction; on its banks the corn stood already four feet high. The country now became quite open to the east and south, and everything indicated that we were approaching the great artery of the country which I was so anxious to behold. In the distance to the west a range of low hills was still observable, but was gradually receding. About ten o’clock we passed the site of a straggling but deserted village, called Melágo, the inhabitants of which had likewise exchanged their dwelling-place in this low level country for a more healthy one at the foot of the mountains, where there is another village called Kófa, homonymous with that in the Marghí country; for this district belongs to the country of the Bátta, a numerous tribe nearly related, as I have stated above, to the Marghí. All the ruins of the dwellings in Melágo were of clay, and the rumbú or rumbúje—the stacks of corn—were of a peculiar description; fine cornfields spread around and between the huts.

Having rested about noon for a little more than two hours on a rather damp and gloomy spot near a dirty pond, we continued our march, the country now assuming a very pleasant park-like appearance, clothed in the most beautiful green, at times broken by cornfields, where the corn—Pennisetum or géro—stood already five feet high. We soon had to deliberate on the very important question which way to take, as the road divided into two branches, the northern or western one leading by way of Búmánda, while the southern or eastern one went by way of Sulléri. Most of my companions were for the former road, which they represented as much nearer, and as I afterwards saw, with the very best reason; but fortunately the more gastronomic part of the caravan, headed by Bíllama, who was rather fond of good living, rejected Búmánda, as being inhabited by poor inhospitable pagans, and decided for the promising large dishes of Mohammedan Sulléri. This turned out to be a most fortunate circumstance for me, although the expectations of my friends were most sadly disappointed. For if we had followed the route by Búmánda, we should have crossed the Bénuwé lower down, and I should not have seen the “Tépe,” that most interesting and important locality, where the Bénuwé is joined by the Fáro, and swelled to that majestic river which is at least equal in magnitude to the Kwára. Of this circumstance I was then not aware, else I should have decided from the beginning for the route by Sulléri. Unfortunately, owing to my very short stay in the country, I cannot say exactly where Búmánda lies; but I should suppose that it is situated about ten miles lower down, at a short distance from the river, like the place of the same name near Hamárruwa,[58] and I think it must lie opposite to Yóla, so that a person who crosses the river at that place goes over directly to the capital, without touching either at Ribáwo, or at any of the neighbouring places.

Having, therefore, chosen the eastern road, we soon reached the broad, but at present dry sandy channel of the Máyo Tíyel, which runs in a south-westerly direction to join the Bénuwé; water was to be found close underneath the surface of the sand, and several women heavily laden with sets of calabashes, and belonging to a troop of travellers encamped on the eastern border of the watercourse, were busy in scooping a supply of most excellent water from a shallow hollow or “kénkenu.” The banks of the river, or rather torrent, were lined with luxuriant trees, amongst which I observed the dorówa or meráya (Parkia) in considerable numbers.

Forest and cultivated ground now succeeded alternately, till we reached a beautiful little lake called “gére[59] Páriyá” by the Bátta, and “barre-n-dáke” by the Fúlbe, at present about fourteen hundred yards long, and surrounded by tall grass, everywhere impressed with tracks of the hippopotami or “ngábba,” which emerge during the night from their watery abode to indulge here quietly in a rich pasturage. This is the usual camping-ground of expeditions which come this way. A little beyond this lake a path branched off from our road to the right, leading to Ródi, a place of the Bátta, whose villages, according to Mohámmedu’s statement, are all fortified with stockades, and situated in strong positions naturally protected by rocky mounts and ridges.

There had been a storm in the afternoon at some distance; but when the sun was setting, and just as we began to wind along a narrow path through a thick forest, a black tempest gathered over our heads. At length we reached the fields of Sulléri, and, having stumbled along them in the deepest darkness, illumined only at intervals by flashes of lightning, we entered the place and pushed our way through the narrow streets, looking round in vain for Íbrahíma, who had gone on to procure quarters.

To our great disappointment we found the house of the governor shut up; and notwithstanding our constant firing and knocking at the door, nobody came to open it, while the heavy clouds began to discharge their watery load over our heads. At length, driven to despair, we turned round, and by force entered his son’s house, which was situated opposite to his own. Here I took possession of one side of the spacious, clean, and cool entrance-hall, which was separated from the thoroughfare by a little balustrade raised above the floor. Spreading my mat and carpet upon the pebbles with which, as is the general custom here, it was strewn, I indulged in comfort and repose after the fatiguing day’s march, while outside the tempest, and inside the landlord, were raging; the latter being extremely angry with Bíllama on account of our forced entry. Not the slightest sign of hospitality was shown to us; and instead of regaling themselves with the expected luxurious dishes of Sulléri, my companions had to go supperless to bed, while the poor horses remained without anything to eat, and were drenched with the rain.

---

Wednesday, June 18.—At an early hour we left the inhospitable place of Sulléri. It was a beautiful fresh morning, all nature being revived and enlivened by the last night’s storm. My companions, sullen and irritated, quarrelled among themselves on account of the selfish behaviour of Íbrahíma. As for me, I was cheerful in the extreme, and borne away by an enthusiastic and triumphant feeling; for to-day I was to see the river.

The neighbourhood of the water was first indicated by numbers of high ant-hills, which, as I shall have occasion to observe more fully in the course of my narrative, abound chiefly in the neighbourhood of rivers: they were here ranged in almost parallel lines, and afforded a very curious spectacle. We had just passed a small village or rúmde, where not a living soul was to be seen, the people having all gone forth to the labours of the field, when the lively Mohámmedu came running up to me, and exclaimed, “Gashí! gashí! dútsi-n-Alantíka kè nan” (“Look! look! that is Mount Alantíka”). I strained my eyes and saw, at a great distance to the south-west, a large but insulated mountain mass, rising abruptly on the east side, and forming a more gradual slope towards the west, while it exhibited a rather smooth and broad top, which certainly must be spacious, as it contains the estates of seven independent pagan chiefs. Judging from the distance, which was pretty well known to me, I estimated the height of the mountain at about eight thousand feet above the plain, or about nine thousand feet of absolute elevation; but it may be somewhat less.

Here there was still cultivated ground, exhibiting at present the finest crop of masr, called “bútalí” by the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa; but a little further on we entered upon a swampy plain (the savannas of Ádamáwa), overgrown with tall rank grass, and broken by many large hollows full of water, so that we were obliged to proceed with great caution. This whole plain is annually (two months later) entirely under water. However, in the middle of it, on a little rising ground which looks as if it were an artificial mound, lies a small village, the abode of the ferrymen of the Bénuwé, from whence the boys came running after us—slender, well-built lads, accustomed to fatigue and strengthened by daily bathing; the younger ones quite naked, the elder having a leathern apron girt round their loins. A quarter of an hour afterwards we stood on the bank of the Bénuwé.[60]

It happens but rarely that a traveller does not feel disappointed when he first actually beholds the principal features of a new country, of which his imagination has composed a picture from the description of the natives; but although I must admit that the shape and size of the Alantíka, as it rose in rounded lines from the flat level, did not exactly correspond with the idea which I had formed of it, the appearance of the river far exceeded my most lively expectations. None of my informants had promised me that I should just come upon it at that most interesting locality—the Tépe[61]—where the mightier river is joined by another of very considerable size, and that in this place I was to cross it. My arrival at this point, as I have stated before, was a most fortunate circumstance. As I looked from the bank over the scene before me, I was quite enchanted, although the whole country bore the character of a desolate wilderness; but there could scarcely be any great traces of human industry near the river, as, during its floods, it inundates the whole country on both sides. This is the general character of all the great rivers in these regions, except where they are encompassed by very steep banks.

The principal river, the Bénuwé, flowed here from east to west, in a broad and majestic course, through an entirely open country, from which only here and there detached mountains started forth. The banks on our side rose to twenty-five, and in some places to thirty feet, while just opposite to my station, behind a pointed headland of sand, the Fáro rushed forth, appearing from this point not much inferior to the principal river, and coming in a fine sweep from the south-east, where it disappeared in the plain, but was traced by me, in thought, upwards to the steep eastern foot of the Alantíka. The river, below the junction, keeping the direction of the principal branch, but making a slight bend to the north, ran along the northern foot of Mount Bágelé, and was there lost to the eye, but was followed in thought through the mountainous region of the Báchama and Zína to Hamárruwa, and thence along the industrious country of Korórofa, till it joined the great western river the Kwára or Niger, and, conjointly with it, ran towards the great ocean.

On the northern side of the river another detached mountain, Mount Taife, rose, and behind it the Bengo, with which Mount Fúro seemed connected, stretching out in a long line towards the north-west. The bank upon which we stood was entirely bare of trees, with the exception of a solitary and poor acacia, about one hundred paces further up the river, while on the opposite shore, along the Fáro and below the junction, some fine clusters of trees were faintly seen.

I looked long and silently upon the stream; it was one of the happiest moments in my life. Born on the bank of a large navigable river, in a commercial place of great energy and life, I had from my childhood a great predilection for river-scenery; and although plunged for many years in the too exclusive study of antiquity, I never lost this native instinct. As soon as I left home, and became the independent master of my actions, I began to combine travel with study, and to study while travelling, it being my greatest delight to trace running waters from their sources, and to see them grow into brooks, to follow the brooks, and see them become rivers, till they at last disappeared in the all-devouring ocean. I had wandered all around the Mediterranean, with its many gulfs, its beautiful peninsulas, its fertile islands—not hurried along by steam, but slowly wandering from place to place, following the traces of the settlements of the Greeks and Romans around this beautiful basin, once their terra incognita. And thus, when entering upon the adventurous career in which I subsequently engaged, it had been the object of my most lively desire to throw light upon the natural arteries and hydrographical network of the unknown regions of Central Africa. The great eastern branch of the Niger was the foremost to occupy my attention; and although for some time uncertain as to the identity of the river of Ádamáwa with that laid down in its lower course by Messrs. W. Allen, Laird, and Oldfield, I had long made up my mind on this point, thanks to the clear information received from my friend Ahmed bel Mejúb. I had now, with my own eyes, clearly established the direction and nature of this mighty river; and to an unprejudiced mind there could no longer be any doubt that this river joins the majestic watercourse explored by the gentlemen just mentioned.[62] Hence I cherish the well-founded conviction, that along this natural highroad European influence and commerce will penetrate into the very heart of the continent and abolish slavery, or rather those infamous slave-hunts and religious wars, destroying the natural germs of human happiness, which are spontaneously developed in the simple life of the pagans, and spreading devastation and desolation all around.

We descended towards the place of embarkation, which at this season of the year changes every week, or even more frequently. At present it was at the mouth of a small, deeply worn channel, or dry watercourse, descending from the swampy meadow-grounds towards the river, and filled with tall reed-grass and bushes. Here was the poor little naval arsenal of the Tépe, consisting of three canoes, two in good repair, and a third one in a state of decay, and unfit for service.

It was now that for the first time I saw these rude little shells, hollowed out of a single trunk—for the boats of the Búdduma are more artificial, being made of a number of boards joined together: and I soon began to eye these frail canoes with rather an anxious feeling, as I was about to trust myself and all my property to what seemed to offer very inadequate means of crossing with safety a large and deep river. They measured from twenty-five to thirty feet in length, and only from a foot to a foot and a half in height, and sixteen inches in width; and one of them was so crooked, that I could scarcely imagine how it could stem the strong current of the river.

On the river itself two canoes were plying; but, notwithstanding our repeated hallooing and firing, the canoemen would not come to our side of the river; perhaps they were afraid. Roving about along the bushy watercourse, I found an old canoe, which being made of two very large trunks joined together, had been incomparably more comfortable and spacious than the canoes now in use; although the joints being made with cordage just like the stitching of a shirt, and without pitching the holes, which were only stuffed with grass, necessarily allowed the water to penetrate continually into the boat; it, however, had the great advantage of not breaking if it ran upon a rock, being in a certain degree pliable. It was about thirty-five feet long, and twenty-six inches wide in the middle; but it was now out of repair, and was lying upside down. It was from this point, standing upon the bottom of the boat, that I made the sketch of this most interesting locality.

The canoemen still delaying to come, I could not resist the temptation of taking a river bath, a luxury which I had not enjoyed since bathing in the Eurymedon. The river is full of crocodiles; but there could be little danger from these animals after all our firing and the constant noise of so many people. I had not yet arrived at the conviction, that river-bathing is not good for a European in a tropical climate, but this was the first and last time that I bathed voluntarily, with a single exception, for when navigating the river of Logón on a fine day in March 1852, I could not help jumping overboard, and on my return from Bagírmi, in August 1853, I was obliged to do it.

The bed of the river, after the first foot and a half, sloped down very gradually, so that at the distance of thirty yards from the shore I had not more than three feet and a half of water, but then it suddenly became deep. The current was so strong, that I was unable to stem it; but my original strength, I must allow, was at the time already greatly reduced. The only advantage which I derived from this feat was that of learning that the river carries gold with it; for the people, as often as I dipped under water, cried out that I was searching for this metal, and when I came out of the water, were persuaded that I had obtained plenty of it. However, the river was already too full for investigating this matter further.

At length a canoe arrived, the largest of the two that were actually employed, and a long bargaining commenced with the eldest of the canoemen, a rather short and well-set lad. Of course, as the chief of the caravan, I had to pay for all, and, there being three camels and five horses to be carried over, it was certainly a difficult business. It cannot, therefore, be regarded as a proof of exorbitant demands, that I had to pay five “dóras,” a sum which in Kúkawa would buy two ox-loads of Indian corn. I allowed all the people to go before me, in order to prevent the canoemen from exacting something more from them.

There was considerable difficulty with my large camel-bags, which were far too large for the canoes, and which several times were in danger of being upset; for they were so unsteady that the people were obliged to kneel down on the bottom, and keep their equilibrium by holding with both hands on the sides of the boat. Fortunately I had laid my tent-poles at the bottom of the canoe, so that the water did not reach the luggage; but owing to the carelessness of the Hajji’s companions, all his books were wetted, to his utmost distress, but I saw him afterwards shedding tears while he was drying his deteriorated treasures on the sandy beach of the headland. The horses as they crossed, swimming by the sides of the canoe, had to undergo great fatigue; but desperate was the struggle of the camels, which were too obstinate to be guided by the frail vessels, and had to be pushed through alone, and could only be moved by the most severe beating; the camel of the Hajji was for a while given up in despair by the whole party. At length they were induced to cross the channel, the current carrying them down to a great distance, and our whole party arrived safe on the sandy beach of the headland, where there was not a bit of shade. This whole headland for two or three months every year is covered with water, although its chief part, which was overgrown with tall reed-grass, was at present about fifteen feet above the surface.

The river, where we crossed it, was, at the very least, eight hundred yards broad, and in its channel generally eleven feet deep, and was liable to rise, under ordinary circumstances, at least thirty, or even at times fifty feet higher. Its upper course at that time was known to me as far as the town of Géwe on the road to Logón; but further on I had only heard from the natives that it came from the south, or rather from the south-south-east.

It was a quarter before one o’clock when we left the beach in order to cross the second river, the Fáro, which is stated to come from Mount Lábul, about seven days’ march to the south. It was at present about six hundred yards broad, but generally not exceeding two feet in depth, although almost all my informants had stated to me that the Fáro was the principal river. The reason of this mistake was, I think, that they had never seen the two rivers at this place, but observed the Fáro near Gúrin, where, a little later in the season, it seems to be of an immense breadth, particularly if they crossed from Bundang; or they were swayed by the great length of the latter river, which they were acquainted with in its whole course, while none of them had followed the upper course of the Bénuwé.

Be this as it may, the current of the Fáro was extremely violent, far more so than of the Bénuwé, approaching, in my estimation, a rate of about five miles, while I would rate the former at about three and a half miles an hour, the current of the Fáro plainly indicating that the mountainous region whence it issued was at no great distance. In order to avoid the strongest part of the current, which swept along the southern shore, we kept close to a small island, which, however, at present could still be reached from this side with dry feet. We then entered upon low meadow-land, overgrown with tall reed-grass, which a month later is entirely inundated to such a depth that only the crowns of the tallest trees are seen rising above the water, of which they bore unmistakable traces, the highest line thus marked being about fifty feet above the present level of the river; for of course the inundation does not always reach the same height, but varies according to the greater or less abundance of the rains. The information of my companions, as well as the evident marks on the ground, left not the least doubt about the immense rise of these rivers.[63]

For a mile and a half from the present margin of the river, near a large and beautiful tamarind-tree, we ascended its outer bank, rising to the height of about thirty feet, the brink of which is not only generally reached by the immense inundation, but even sometimes overflowed, so that the people who cross it during the height of the inundation, leaving the canoes here, have still to make their way through deep water, covering this highest level.

My companions from Ádamáwa were almost unanimous in spontaneously representing the waters as preserving their highest level for forty days, which, according to their accounts, would extend from about the 20th of August till the end of September. This statement of mine, made not from my own experience, but from the information of the natives, has been slightly, but indeed very slightly, modified by the experience of those eminent men who, upon the reports which I forwarded of my discovery, were sent out by Her Majesty’s Government in the Pleiad and who succeeded in reaching the point down to which I had been able to delineate the course of the river with some degree of certainty. That the fall of the river at this point of the junction begins at the very end of September, has been exactly confirmed by these gentlemen, while with regard to the forty days they have not made any distinct observation, although there is evidence enough that they experienced something confirmatory of it.[64]

On leaving the outer bank of the river, our way led through a fine park-like plain, dotted with a few mimosas of middling size, and clear of underwood. The sides of the path were strewn with skeletons of horses, marking the line followed by the late expedition of the governor of Yóla, on its return from Lére, or the Mbána country. Having then entered upon cultivated ground, we reached the first cluster of huts of the large straggling village Chabajáure, or Chabajáule, situated in a most fertile and slightly undulating tract; and having kept along it for a little less than a mile and a half, we took up our quarters in a solitary and secluded cluster of huts, including a very spacious courtyard.

It was a sign of warm hospitality that, although the whole caravan had fallen to the charge of a single household, sufficient quantities not only of “nyíro,” the common dish of Indian corn, but even of meat, were brought to us in the evening. While passing the village, I had observed that all the corn on the fields was “geróri,” or Pennisetum (millet—dukhn), a kind of grain originally, it would seem, so strange to the Fúlbe, that they have not even a word of their own for it, having only modified a little the Háusa word “géro”; not a single blade of “baíri,” or sorghum, was to be seen. The scarcity was less felt here than in the northern districts of the country, and we bought some grain for our horses as a supply for the next day.

Thursday, June 19.—We started early in the morning, continuing along the straggling hamlets and rich cornfields of Chabajáule for a mile and a half; when we passed two slave villages, or “rúmde,” belonging to a rich Púllo, of the name of Hanúri. All the meadows were beautifully adorned with white violet-striped lilies. We then entered a wooded tract, ascending at the same time considerably on the hilly ground which juts out from the foot of Mount Bágelé, and which allowed us a clearer view of the geological character of the mountain. Having again emerged from the forest upon an open, cultivated, and populous district, we passed the large village of Dulí, and, having descended and reascended again we obtained a most beautiful view near the village Gúroré, which lies on rising ground, surrounded by a good many large monkey-bread-trees, or bodóje (sing. bokki). For from this elevated spot we enjoyed a prospect over the beautiful meadow-lands sloping gently down towards the river, which from this spot is not much more than five miles distant, taking its course between Mounts Bengo and Bágelé, and washing the foot of the latter, but not visible to us. The country continued beautiful and pleasant, and was here enlivened by numerous herds of cattle, while in the villages which we had passed I had seen none, as the Fúlbe drive their cattle frequently to very distant grazing grounds.

While marching along at a good pace, Mohámmedu walked up to me, and with a certain feeling of pride showed me his fields, “gashí gonakína.” Though a poor man, he was master of three slaves, a very small fortune in a conquered and newly colonized country, like Ádamáwa, based entirely upon slavery, where many individuals have each more than a thousand slaves. I was greatly surprised to see here a remarkable specimen of a bokki or monkey-bread-tree, branching off from the ground into three separate trunks; at least, I never remember to have seen anything like it, although the tree is the most common representative of the vegetable kingdom through the whole breadth of Central Africa. All the ground to the right of the path is inundated during the height of the flood.

We had now closely approached the Bágelé, the summit of which, though not very high, is generally enveloped in clouds, a fact which, when conveyed to me in the obscure language of the natives, had led me to the misconception, while writing in Kúkawa my report of the provisional information I had obtained of the country whither I was about to proceed, that this mountain was of volcanic character. It seems to consist chiefly of granite, and has a very rugged surface, strewn with great irregular blocks, from between which trees shoot up. Nevertheless, stretching out to a length of several miles from south-south-east to north-north-west, it contains a good many spots of arable land, which support eighteen little hamlets of independent pagans. These, protected by the inaccessible character of their strongholds, and their formidable double spears, have not only been able hitherto to repulse all the attacks which the proud Mohammedans, the centre of whose government is only a few miles distant, have made against them, but, descending from their haunts, commit almost daily depredations upon the cattle of their enemies.[65] One of their little hamlets, perched on the top of steep cliffs, we could plainly distinguish by the recently thatched roofs of the huts, the snow-white colour of which very conspicuously shone forth from the dark masses of the rock. The country was always gaining in interest as we advanced, the meadow-lands being covered with living creatures of every description, such as cattle, horses, asses, goats, and sheep, and we reached the easternmost cluster of huts of the large straggling village or district of Ribáwo or Ribágo,[66] stretching out on our left on a little rising ground. The district is not only rich in corn and pasturage, but also in fish, which are most plentiful in a large inlet or backwater, “illágul,” as it is called by the Fúlbe, branching off from the river along the north-east foot of the Bágelé, and closely approaching the village. In this shallow water the fish are easily caught.

Numbers of inquisitive people of every age and sex gathered round us from the neighbouring hamlets; but while hovering round me and the camels with great delight, they behaved very decently and quietly. They followed us till we took up our quarters a little before ten o’clock, with a friend of Bíllama’s, in a large group of huts lying close to the path, and shaded by most luxuriant trees. Although there were several clean huts, I preferred the cool and ventilated entrance hall of the same description as I have mentioned above, and remained here even during the night, although a most terrible storm, which broke out at six o’clock in the evening, and lasted full four hours, flooded the whole ground, and rendered my resting-place rather too cool. I would advise other travellers not to follow my example during the rainy season, but rather to make themselves comfortable in the warm interior of a well-protected hut.

In our last march through these rich low grounds, which are every year flooded by the river, I had not observed the least traces of the cultivation of rice, for which they seem to be so marvellously adapted, the cultivation round Ribágo being almost exclusively limited to maiwa or maiwári, a peculiar species of sorghum called “matëa” in Kanúri. On inquiring why these people did not grow rice, I learnt that the Fúlbe hereabouts had all migrated from Bórnu after the downfall of their jemmára and dominion in that country, when not only were the new political intruders repulsed, but even the old settlers, who had been established in that country from very ancient times, were obliged to emigrate. In Bórnu, however, as I have had occasion to mention before, no rice is cultivated, so that these people, although at present established in regions where rice would probably succeed much better than millet and Indian corn, abstain entirely from its cultivation. On the other hand, in the western parts of Adamáwa and in Hamárruwa, whither the Fúlbe had migrated from Háusa, rice is cultivated to a considerable extent. On a former occasion I have already touched on the question, whether rice be indigenous in Negroland or not. It has evidently been cultivated from time immemorial in the countries along the middle course of the Ísa, or Kwára, from Kébbi up to Gágho, or Gógó; but this might seem to be in consequence of a very ancient intercourse between those regions and Egypt, which I hope to be able to establish in the course of my narrative. It grows, however, wild in many parts, from the southern provinces of Bórnu, Bagírmi, and Wadáy, as far north as el Haúdh and Bághena, on the border of the western desert.

Another important point of which I here became aware was, that the Bátta language, which, among the numerous languages of Ádamáwa, or rather Fúmbiná, is the most extensively spoken, has two very different dialects; for, being anxious to finish my small vocabulary of this language, which I had commenced in Kúkawa with the assistance of Mohámmedu, I soon found that the dialect spoken here differed considerably from that of which I had previously written specimens. The Bátta language, as I have stated above, is intimately related to the Marghí and Záni idiom, and bears several points of resemblance to the Músgu language, which is itself related to the various dialects of Kótoko. All these languages have some general points of affinity to the South African languages.

At present, however, the indigenous population is almost totally extinct in this district, which is exclusively inhabited by the conquerors, who have here found an abode remarkably suited to their mode of living. The whole place has not less than six thousand inhabitants.

Friday, June 20.—We started early in order to reach the capital, if possible, before noon, and passed through several hamlets, all belonging to the extensive village or district of Ribágo, and interrupted here and there by projecting masses of schistose rock, while the concavity between this rising ground and Mount Bágelé was fast filling with the flood from the river, and presented already a considerable sheet of water. The country, after we had passed this populous district, became thickly wooded, which I had not expected to find so near the capital; and, on account of some ravines which intersect it, and of the neighbourhood of the inlet of the river, it certainly cannot afford a very easy passage towards the end of the rainy season. Here also the rock projects above the plain in many places.

About eight o’clock, when we had travelled round the south-western foot of Mount Bágelé, we passed through a number of small hamlets, which however did not exhibit any traces of cultivation, and then again entered upon a wild tract, while we obtained a glance at a picturesquely seated place before us, which I unhesitatingly took for Yóla, but which proved to be a small village situated at a considerable distance from the capital. Before we reached it, we had to cross a sheet of water nearly five feet deep, and called by my companions “Máyo Bínti,” which caused us a great deal of trouble and delay, and wetted almost all my luggage. The water, which at present had no current, skirts the foot of the rocky slope on which the village is situated, the name of which is Yebbórewó. Here our camels created an extraordinary interest, and a great many women, although we did not attend to their wish to stop, managed to pass under the bellies of these tall creatures, in the hope of obtaining their blessing, as they thought them sacred animals.

Having kept along the rising ground, and passed several little hamlets adorned with monkey-bread-trees, we had to cross very difficult swampy ground, which, a little later in the season, must be avoided by a long circuit. Two months later Mount Bágelé must look almost like an island, so surrounded is it on all sides by deep inlets and swamps. The detached cone of Mount Takabéllo, rising to a height of about a thousand feet above the plain, for some time formed a conspicuous object in front of us on our winding path, till at length, a little before noon, we reached the outskirts of the capital in a state of mind not exempt from anxious feeling.

---

At length I had reached the capital of Ádamáwa, having had altogether a very lucky and successful journey; but now all depended upon the manner in which I should be received in this place: for although it was quite enough to have successfully penetrated so far, after having discovered and crossed the upper course of that large river, about the identity of which with the Chadda there could be little doubt, I entertained the hope that I might be allowed to penetrate further south, and investigate at least part of the basin of the river. I had heard so much about the fertile character of those regions, that I was intensely desirous to see something of them.

It was an unfavourable circumstance that we arrived on a Friday, and just during the heat of the day. The streets were almost deserted; and no person met us in order to impart to us, by a friendly welcome, a feeling of cheerfulness and confidence.

Yóla is a large open place, consisting, with a few exceptions, of conical huts surrounded by spacious courtyards, and even by cornfields, the houses of the governor and those of his brothers being alone built of clay. Keeping along the principal street, we continued our march for a mile and a quarter before we reached the house of the governor, which lies on the west side of a small open area, opposite the mosque, a flat oblong, building, or rather hall, enclosed with clay walls, and covered with a flat thatched roof a little inclined on one side. Having reached this place, my companions fired a salute, which, considering the nature of Bíllama’s mission, and the peculiar character of the governor, which this officer ought to have known, and perhaps also since it happened to be Friday, was not very judicious.

Be this as it may, the courtiers or attendants of the governor, attracted by the firing, came out one after another, and informed us that their master must go to the mosque to say his midday prayers[67] before he could attend to us or assign us quarters. We therefore dismounted and sat down in the scanty shade of a jéja or caoutchouc-tree, which adorns the place between the palace and the mosque, while a great number of people, amounting to several hundreds, gradually collected, all eager to salute me and shake hands with me. Fortunately, it was not long before Láwl came out of his palace and went into the mosque; and then I obtained a few moments’ respite, the people all following him, with the exception of the young ones, who very luckily found the camels a worthier object of their curiosity than me. It had been my intention to salute the governor when he was crossing the place, but I was advised not to do so, as it might interfere with his devotional feelings.

The prayer was short; and when it was over I was surrounded by much larger numbers than before, and, being fatigued and hungry, I felt greatly annoyed by the endless saluting and shaking of hands. At length we were ordered to take up our quarters in the house of Ardo Ghámmawa, a brother of our fellow-traveller Íbrahíma; but this being close to the east end of the town, we were not much pleased with the arrangement, as it not only obliged us for the moment to return the whole way we had come, but also for the future deprived us of an unreserved and friendly intercourse with the governor. This was not calculated to inspire us with confidence as to the success of our proceedings.

It was past two o’clock in the afternoon when at length I reached my quarters and took possession of a large, well-ventilated, and neat “záure,” or hall, the walls of which were all painted. In the inner courtyard there was also a very neat and snug little hut, but that was all, and we had great trouble in obtaining quarters for Bú-Sʿad and the Mʿallem in some of the neighbouring courtyards. I felt rather fatigued and not quite at my ease, and therefore could not much enjoy a dish of an extremely good pudding of bairi or sorghum, with excellent clear butter, and a large bowl of milk; but nevertheless, although a storm, accompanied with much rain, broke out in the evening and rendered the air rather humid, I remained the whole night where I was, instead of retiring into the well-protected though rather sultry hut.

Saturday, June 21.—In the morning I selected my presents for the governor, the principal part of which consisted of a very handsome red cloth bernús, which we had found among the things left by the late Mr. Richardson; but when we were ready to go we received the information that Láwl was in his fields, and that we could not see him. Meanwhile I received a visit from an Arab from the far-distant west, with whom I had made acquaintance in Kúkawa, and who had given me some very valuable information. It was el Mukhtár, of the tribe of the Idésan in Bághena, who had previously paid a visit to Ádamáwa, and was well acquainted with the country. It is always very pleasant for a traveller to meet another roving spirit somewhere again, particularly in a country like Central Africa. Having acknowledged his visit by the gift of a knife and a little frankincense, I presented our host, the Ardo Ghámmawa, with a fine “ríga gíwa” (an “elephant-shirt”)—that is to say, one of those enormous wide black shirts made only in Núpe, and which was one of the few articles which I had been able to provide in Kanó for the furtherance of my plans. The family of the Ardo had formerly been settled in Ghámmawa, in the south-western province of Bórnu, but, when the Fúlbe were driven back from that country, emigrated and settled here. But this man still bears the title “Ardo Ghámmawa”—“the mayor of (the Fúlbe community of) Ghámmawa.”

Having been told that the governor had returned to his palace, we mounted on horseback about ten o’clock, and, preceded by the Ardo Ghámmawa, returned the long way to the lamórde or palace; but after waiting on the damp ground, exposed to the sun for more than an hour, we were told that we could not see him, and were obliged to return with our present. I was greatly vexed, and felt, in consequence, my fever increasing, especially as another very heavy storm broke out in the afternoon, when the air became quite chilly. However, I was somewhat cheered by making acquaintance in the afternoon with an Arab from Mokha, of the name of Mohammed ben Áhmed, who styled himself sheríf, most probably rather pleonastically; but, apart from such pretension, he was an amiable and most interesting man, who had travelled for many years over the whole eastern coast of the continent between Mombása and Sofála. He was the first to satisfy my curiosity with a description of the celebrated Lake Nyassa as an eyewitness. He had even visited Bombay and Madras.

Sunday, June 22.—In consequence of the information received from Ardo Ghámmawa that to-day we were certainly to see the governor, we got ready at an early hour, taking with us also a present for his brother Mansúr, who had made himself expressly a candidate for a present, by sending me, the day before, a small pot of honey. While we were passing his house, he was coming out to pay his respects to his brother. We made a short halt and exchanged compliments with him; and when, on reaching the area before the governor’s house, we had dismounted and were sitting down in the shade of the tree, he walked most benignly and frankly up, and sat down in front of me. We then entered the palace; and having waited a short time in the segífa or záure, which here was formed by a spacious flat-roofed room supported by massive square pillars, we were called into the presence of the governor.

Mohammed Láwl, son of Mʿallem Ádama, was sitting in a separate hall, built of clay, and forming, for this country, quite a noble mansion. From without especially, it has a stately, castle-like appearance, while inside, the hall was rather encroached upon by quadrangular pillars two feet in diameter, which supported the roof, about sixteen feet high, and consisting of a rather heavy entablature of poles in order to withstand the violence of the rains. The governor was very simply dressed, and had nothing remarkable in his appearance, while his face, which was half covered by a somewhat dirty shawl, had an indifferent expression. Besides him there were none present but Mansúr and a mʿallem.

Having, as the first European that had ever visited his country with the distinct purpose to enter into friendly relations with him, paid him my respects on behalf of my countrymen, I delivered my letter of introduction from Sheikh ʿOmár, who in a few but well-chosen lines introduced me to him as a learned and pious Christian, who wandered about to admire the works of the Almighty Creator, and on this account cherished an ardent desire to visit also Adamáwa, of the wonders of which I had heard so much. Láwl read it, and, evidently not quite displeased with its contents, although he took umbrage at some of the expressions, handed it silently over to the mʿallem and Mansúr. Hereupon Bíllama delivered his letters, of which not only the contents, but even the very existence had been totally unknown to me. They were three in number, one from the sheikh himself, one from Malá Ibrám, the former possessor of the southern province of Bórnu, and one from Kashélla ʿAli Déndal, or Ladán, the officer who by his late predatory incursion had given grounds for complaint.

As soon as these various letters were read, all of which laid claim, on the side of Bórnu, to the territory of Kófa and Kóbchi, a storm arose, and in a fit of wrath Láwl reproached my companion with daring to come forward with such pretensions—he, who was himself well acquainted with the country and with the point in dispute. If Sheikh ʿOmár wished for discord, well: he was ready; and they would harass each other’s frontier-provinces by reciprocal incursions. Having given vent to his feelings towards Bíllama, his anger turned upon me; and he told me to my face that I had quite different reasons for coming into his country from those stated in Sheikh ʿOmár’s letter; referring to some ambiguous words in Malá Ibrám’s writing in which that officer stated “that, with regard to me, the objects of my journey to Ádamáwa were a perfect secret to him.” Now I must confess, after all my acquaintance with the politics of these people, and notwithstanding all Háj Beshír’s kindness and benevolence towards me, that I think the Bórnu diplomatists quite capable of a little double dealing; that is to say, I suspect that they were willing to make use of me to frighten the governor of Ádamáwa. Perhaps also they were afraid lest, if I should succeed in Ádamáwa, I might not return to their country. I shall have to mention similar circumstances on my journey to Bagírmi. Viewing matters in this light, I wrote from Kúkawa, requesting Her Majesty’s Government to inform the Sheikh of Bórnu that it was their distinct desire that we should penetrate onwards, and that he would confer an obligation upon them by facilitating the execution of our plans.

Be this as it may, after a long dispute with regard to the boundaries, in which my friend from Mokha, and a learned native of Wadáy, Móde ʿAbd Alláhi, who was employed by Láwl as a sort of secretary of state for foreign affairs, took part, I, with my party, was ordered to withdraw for a time. After sitting for full two hours on the damp ground outside, we received an intimation that we might return home. Thus I had to return with my presents a second time to my quarters; and of course I was greatly vexed. However, several people who saw my emotion endeavoured to console me; and Mansúr, who before we left came out of his brother’s audience-hall, entered into conversation with me, and assured me that this unkind treatment in no way related to me, but that it was only intended for Bíllama, the officer of Bórnu. There was present also the very amiable mʿallem whom I had met in Saráwu Fulfúlde, and who had come after us; and I felt sorry that I was not disposed to answer his well-meant discourse in the manner it deserved.

When we reached Mansúr’s house he invited us to dismount, and entering the interior of his wide and neat dwelling we had a long and animated conversation, when I explained to him in a deliberate manner that such treatment did not offend me on my own account, but on account of the Government—the very first and most powerful in the world—which had sent me; that instead of coming with hostile intentions, as was imputed to me, I had come with the friendly design of paying my respects to the governor on behalf of the British sovereign, and to present him with a few specimens of our products and manufactures; that I had, no doubt, at the same time an intense desire to see their country, as it was the avowed purpose of Europeans in general, and of the English in particular, to become acquainted, and to open intercourse, with all parts of God’s creation.

Mansúr explained to me, in return, that they well knew that I had not come to make war upon them, although Láwl, in the first fit of his anger, scarcely seemed to suspect anything less than that, “but that they were vexed because I had come to them under the protection of the Bórnu people, their enemies.” A letter from the Sultan of Stambúl, or even from my own sovereign, would have recommended me much more advantageously. The sheikh had expressly designated me as one recommended and protected by the Porte, and Bú-Sʿad had mentioned, with a slight disregard of the real facts, that through inadvertence only I had left both letters, as well that from the Sultan of Stambúl, as from the English sovereign, in Kúkawa. Now I certainly had with me a treaty written in Arabic, such as it was desirable that the governor of Ádamáwa should subscribe; but to produce this under existing circumstances would have been absurd, especially as it did not emanate directly from the Government, and was not authenticated, either by seal or in any other way, and I thought it better not to mention it. It was no bad policy on the part of Bú-Sʿad to represent me as sent on a special mission by the British Government to the Fúlbe princes, and as obliged only by the death of my companion to deviate from my intended course, in order to supply his place in Kúkawa.

Meanwhile it was past midday; and after a stormy night the sun shone forth with overpowering force, while we sat all the while in an open courtyard without the least protection. On reaching my quarters, I was so exhausted and ill that I thought I could do nothing better than take without delay a powerful emetic, after which I felt much better, but rather weak. Having somewhat restored my spirits by a conversation with Mohammed ben Áhmed, I retired into the close hut, and had a sound sleep.

Monday having passed quietly, with the exception of a great many people calling for “laiya” or charms, and for medicines, Tuesday the 24th arrived, when it was my destiny to leave this country, which I had but just entered, and to retrace my steps over the long and infested road which I had lately travelled.

I felt tolerably well in the morning, but afterwards became very ill, and unfortunately took too weak a dose of medicine. In this state I had a visit from two very handsome and amiable young Fúlbe, and in my rather morose mood refused their urgent request, made in the most simple and confidential way, to say the “fat-ha,” or the opening prayer of the Kurán, with them. I have always regretted my refusal, as it estranged from me a great many people; and although many Christians will object to repeat the prayer of another creed, yet the use of a prayer of so general an import as the introductory chapter to the Kurán ought to be permitted to every solitary traveller in these regions, in order to form a sort of conciliatory link between him and the natives.

After some other visitors had come and gone, I received, about ten o’clock, a formal visit from Móde ʿAbdalláhi, the foreign secretary, and my friend from Mokha, in the name of the governor. Having moistened their organs with a cup of coffee, they acquitted themselves of their message in the following terms: “The sultan”—all these provincial governors bear the title of sultan—“had ordered them,” they said, “to beg me to accept his most respectful regards, and to inform me that he was nothing but a slave of the sultan of Sókoto, and that I was a far greater man than himself. As such a man had never before come to his country, he was afraid of his liege lord, and begged me to retrace my steps whither I had come; but if in course of time I should return with a letter from Sókoto, he would receive me with open arms, would converse with me about all our science, and about our instruments, without reserve, and would show me the whole country.”

To this message, which was certainly couched in very modest and insinuating terms, I answered that Mohammed Láwl, so far from being a slave of the sultan of Sókoto, was renowned far and wide as the almost independent governor of a large province; that the fame of his father Ádama, as a nobly born, learned Púllo, extended far and wide throughout Tekrúr, or Negroland, and had even reached our own country; that it was absurd to argue that I was greater than himself, and that on this account he could not receive me on his own responsibility, but was obliged to refer my suit to his liege lord in Sókoto. I brought forward the examples of Kátsena and Kanó, especially the latter place, in which, though it was the seat of a governor dependent on the Emír el Múmenín, in the same way as the governor of Ádamáwa, I had long resided, without any representations being made to the sovereign lord. “Oh! but the relations of Kátsena and Kanó,” said the messengers of the governor, “are entirely different from those of this province. These are large and busy thoroughfares for all the world, while Ádamáwa is a distant territory in the remotest corner of the earth, and still a fresh unconsolidated conquest.” There was certainly some truth in this last remark; and whatever I might say to the contrary, the question was decided, and all reasoning was vain.

The two messengers having gone through their business in this way, informed me that they were only the forerunners of the real messenger, Mansúr, the brother of the governor. This was very pleasant news to me; and although, after this shock of disappointment, I felt extremely ill and weak, I rose from my couch, and went to receive Mansúr when he arrived at the door of the hut. He then officially, and in a very feeling manner, confirmed all that Móde ʿAbdalláhi and the sheríf Mohammed had said, and expressed his deep regret that I was not allowed to stay. When he was going, I handed to his servants the little present destined for him, which consisted of twenty-five drʿa of striped Manchester, a pair of English razors, scissors, a looking-glass, a parcel of cloves, a little jáwi, or benzoin, and a small piece of camphor.

Mansúr had been gone a little while when I received information that the governor had sent me a horse and two slaves as a present, with the intimation that I might likewise let him have the present which I had brought with me for him. But this I refused to do, declaring that I could not, under the present circumstances, either accept from him or give him anything, not having come as a merchant, to barter with him, but as the messenger of another powerful sovereign, to treat with him on friendly terms. My servant, Bú-Sʿad, who, in the covetousness of his heart, already fancied himself in the possession of the two slaves, whom he knew well I myself could not accept, but whom he thought I would give up to him, went so far as to declare that, as the present had come from my sovereign, I had no alternative but to bestow it. But seeing that I was firm, the messengers went away, and soon after a horseman arrived with the order for me to leave the town instantly.

Meanwhile, during all this negotiation and dispute, I had become extremely weak, and the excitement had brought on a very severe fit of fever. Indeed, I scarcely thought that I should be able to sit on horseback, and to bear the sun, it being then just noon, and the sun shining forth with great power. Nevertheless I got my things ready; but having left my quarters a little too soon, and being obliged to wait some time for the other people, I became so weak that I could no longer keep on my feet, but lay down on the ground till my companions arrived. Sitting then firmly in my large Arab stirrups, and holding on to the pommel, I proceeded; and though I fainted twice, I soon regained some strength, a slight breeze having arisen, which greatly mitigated the burning heat.

Numbers of people accompanied me, expressing their grief and sorrow at my abrupt departure. By my refusing to write laiya, or to say the fat-ha, I had estranged many a friendly disposed native, and by my obstinacy I had incurred the displeasure of their master; yet many of the people openly disapproved of his conduct towards me.

An immense quantity of rain having fallen during my stay here, the country appeared to me much more beautiful now than when we came, and full of fine cattle; and I felt so refreshed that I considered myself able to go as far as Ribágo, a ride of six hours, at a slow rate.

Bíllama behaved exceedingly well; for when my treacherous servant Bú-Sʿad, who was afraid lest Mohammed Láwl should wreak his anger upon me on the road, intimated to him that, “if anything of that sort should happen, they of course were Moslemín”—thus indicating that they could not defend me against those of their own creed, but should leave me to my fate,—he indignantly left his company, and rode up to me. Thus, without any accident, except that all my luggage was once more wetted through while passing the deep water of the Máyo Bínti, we reached the friendly village, where without ceremony I took up my quarters in the well-known courtyard of our former host. But, before proceeding further on my journey back, I must try to make the reader better acquainted with the country, though the abrupt way in which I was obliged to leave it allows me only, in most cases, to speak from the information of the natives.

Yóla is the capital of an extensive province, called by foreigners generally, and by the conquering Fúlbe in diplomatic language, Ádamáwa, but the real name of which is Fúmbiná. Indeed Ádamáwa is quite a new name given to the country (exactly as I stated in my report sent to Europe some years ago) in honour of Mʿallem Ádama, the father of the present governor, who succeeded in founding here a new Mohammedan empire on the ruins of several smaller pagan kingdoms, the most considerable of which was that of Kókomi. Whether what the people used to say be true, that the name of the wife of this officer was Ádama too, I am not able positively to decide.[68]

Yóla is quite a new settlement, called by this name after the princely quarter of the town of Kanó,—the former capital, of which Denham’s expedition heard some faint report, being Gúrin. Yóla is situated in a swampy plain, and is bordered on the north side by an inlet of the river, the inundation of which reaches close to that quarter where I was living. The town is certainly not less than three miles long from east to west. It seems probable that there are different names for the different quarters; but my stay was too short to allow me to learn them. The courtyards are large and spacious, but often contain only a single hut, the whole area being sown with grain during the rainy season. All the huts are built with clay walls, on account of the violence of the rains, and are tolerably high. Only the governor and his elder brothers possess large establishments, with dwellings built entirely of clay. Notwithstanding its size, the place can hardly contain more than twelve thousand inhabitants.

It has no industry; and the market, at least during the time of my stay there, was most insignificant and miserably supplied; but certainly during the season of field labours, as I have already had occasion to observe, all the markets in Negroland are less important than at other times of the year. The most common objects in the market, which find ready sale, are túrkedí, beads, and salt,[69] while other articles, such as striped Manchester, calico, cloth bernúses, are generally sold privately to the wealthier people. The only articles of export at present are slaves and ivory. Four good túrkedí, bought in Kanó for 1800 or 2000 kurdí each, will generally purchase a slave; and a túrkedí will often buy an elephant’s tusk of tolerable size.

Slavery exists on an immense scale in this country; and there are many private individuals who have more than a thousand slaves. In this respect the governor of the whole province is not the most powerful man, being outstripped by the governors of Chámba and Kóncha—for this reason, that Mohammed Láwl has all his slaves settled in rúmde or slave-villages, where they cultivate grain for his use or profit, while the above-mentioned officers, who obtain all their provision in corn from subjected pagan tribes, have their whole host of slaves constantly at their disposal; and I have been assured that some of the head slaves of these men have as many as a thousand slaves each under their command, with whom they undertake occasional expeditions for their masters. I have been assured also that Mohammed Láwl receives every year in tribute, besides horses and cattle, about five thousand slaves, though this seems a large number.

The country of Fúmbiná is about two hundred miles long in its greatest extent, running from south-west to north-east, while its shortest diameter seems to reach from north-west to south-east, and scarcely ever exceeds seventy or eighty miles; but this territory is as yet far from being entirely subjected to the Mohammedan conquerors, who in general are only in possession of detached settlements, while the intermediate country, particularly the more mountainous tracts, are still in the hands of the pagans. The people in this part of the country are engaged in constant warfare. While the country north from the Bénuwé, between Yóla and Hamárruwa, is entirely independent, and inhabited by warlike pagan tribes, the best-subjected tract seems to be that between the Wándalá and the Músgu country, where the settlements of the conquering tribe are very compact. I must observe, however, that I am not quite clear as to the exact manner in which those distant settlements are dependent on the governor of Ádamáwa. That part of the country seems to deserve a great deal of interest, and to be destined to become a province by itself. It is sometimes designated by the special name of “Jemmára,” a name certainly of general import, and meaning nothing but “the congregation”—a corruption, in short, of Jemmáʿa.

The country is certainly one of the finest of Central Africa, irrigated as it is by numerous rivers, among which the Bénuwé and the Fáro are the most important, and being diversified with hill and dale. In general, however, it is flat, rising gradually towards the south, from an elevation[70] of about eight hundred feet, along the middle course of the Bénuwé, to fifteen hundred feet or more, and broken by separate hills or more extensive groups of mountains; but, as far as I know, there is not here a single example of large mountain masses. Mount Alantíka, of which I had a fine view from several points, though at a considerable distance, is considered as the most massive and elevated mountain in the whole country; and this is an entirely detached mountain, at the utmost fifty miles in circumference, and elevated certainly not more than eight thousand five hundred or nine thousand feet above the plain from which it rises. No doubt the Bénuwé may be presumed to have its sources in a mountainous tract of country; but of the uppermost course of this river I was not able to obtain the least information, while I have been able to lay down its lower course with great approximative certainty.[71] Yet, although the elevation of the country is in general the same, the nature of the different districts varies greatly: thus in Chámba, apparently on account of the neighbourhood of Mount Alantíka, which attracts the clouds, the rainy season is said to set in as early as January, so that by the end of April or beginning of May the first crop is ripe, while in Yóla, and in the country in general, the rains rarely begin before March.

The grain most commonly grown in the country is Holcus sorghum; but in this respect also there is a great difference between the districts. Thus, the country of the Mbúm round Ngáundere scarcely produces anything but rógo, or yams, which form the daily, and almost sole food of the inhabitants. Meat is so dear there that a goat will often fetch the price of a female slave. Ground-nuts (Arachis hypogæa) are plentiful both in the eastern and the western districts. A tolerable quantity of cotton called “póttolo” in Ádamáwa, is cultivated: but indigo or “chachári” is very rare, and is hardly cultivated anywhere but in Saráwu and Máruwa; and this is very natural, as the Fúlbe do not value coloured shirts.

With regard to exuberance of vegetation, Tibáti seems to be one of the richest places; there both kinds of the banana, or ayabáje, the gónda, or papaya, “du-kúje,” several species of the gúro tree, the Pandanus, the Kajilia, the monkey-bread tree, or Adansonia, the “rími,” or Bombax, and numerous other kinds are found. Of the palm tribe, the deléb-palm, or gigiña, and the Elaïs Guineensis, are frequent, but strictly limited to certain localities, while the date-tree (called by the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa by the beautiful name “tannedaráje”[72]) is very rare, and, except a few specimens in Yóla and Búndang, scarcely to be met with. Among the bushes, the Palma Christi or Ricinus, is extremely common. Altogether, the predominant tree in the southern provinces of Ádamáwa seems to be the banana. There are hot springs in the country of the Bakr Yemyem, about three days’ south from Kóncha, which are said to issue from the west foot of a mountain stretching from east to west, and to have a very high temperature; the water is reported to be palatable.

Of animals, the elephant is exceedingly frequent, not only the black or grey, but also a yellow species. The rhinoceros is often met with, but only in the eastern part of the country. East from the Bénuwé the wild bull is very common. The most singular animal seems to be the ayú, which lives in the river, and in some respects resembles the seal;[73] it comes out of the river in the night, and feeds on the fresh grass growing on its banks.

With regard to domestic animals, cattle were evidently introduced by the Fúlbe some two or three hundred years ago. There is an indigenous variety of ox, but quite a distinct species, not three feet high, and of dark-grey colour; this is called máturú. The native horse is small and feeble; the best horses are brought from the northern districts, chiefly from Úba.

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Having made these few remarks with regard to the interesting work of conquest and colonization which is going on in Ádamáwa, I now return to my quarters in Ribágo, in order to carry the reader with me on my journey back from that country to Kúkawa.

Wednesday, June 25.—Our luggage had been so wetted on the preceding afternoon, while crossing the Máyo Bínti, that we were obliged to stay in Ribágo the whole morning, in order to dry it. The horseman who had escorted me out of the town had returned; and in his stead Íbrahíma, with a companion on foot, had made his appearance, with orders from the governor to escort me to the very frontiers of the country. In order to render him a more sociable companion, I thought it well to make him a present of a túrkedí. My mʿallem had not come along with us; and I could not be angry with him for not desiring to return to Kúkawa, where he had been detained against his will. The horse on which I had mounted him he had well deserved for his trouble. Íbrahíma told me that Katúri had come after me as far as Yébborewó, thinking that I would pass the night there, but that the governor would not let him go further.

Before starting in the afternoon, I made our landlady, the wife of the Ardo of Ribágo, very happy by a few presents, as an acknowledgment of her hospitality in having twice entertained us in her house. After a short march of a few miles, we took up our quarters for the night in Duló, where the landlord, who a few days ago had been deprived of his office of mayor, received us at first rather unkindly, but afterwards assigned me a splendid hut, where the ganga or large drum, the ensign of his former authority, was still hanging from the wall. I was greatly in want of rest, and was obliged to keep my head always wet, and to abstain entirely from food.

Thursday, June 26.—I thought we should certainly cross the Bénuwé to-day; but, as if in defiance of the governor of the country, Bíllama desired to move on as slowly as possible, and took us to our well-known quarters in Chabajáure. But this slow progress was certainly better for me, as I had this day arrived at a crisis, and was dreadfully weak. Taking small doses of quinine the whole of the afternoon, I strengthened myself for the next day’s work, when after five miles’ march we reached the Tépe.

Friday, June 27.—The Fáro had only risen a little more than twenty inches since the 18th—that is to say, two inches and a half per day; nevertheless we had great difficulty in fording it. The Bénuwé had risen more rapidly; and of course in July both rivers rise at a very different rate. When the rainy season is at its height, the sandy beach of the headland at the junction is almost completely under water; and this was the case with our old place of embarkation on the northern bank of the Bénuwé, so that I was obliged to creep up the steep bank.

In order to withstand the fatigue, I continued taking quinine the whole day long, and was glad when in the evening we reached Sulléri, where, to my astonishment, we were this time exceedingly well received. The mayor of the place would not allow me to start the following day, although my camels were already laden, and a beautiful fine morning invited us to travel. After a good deal of resistance, I at length gave way to his entreaties, under the condition that he would construct for me a cool shed wherein to spend the heat of the day; and in twenty minutes a lofty hall had risen from the earth. Thus I spent the day very comfortably; and although I was unable to alleviate the pains suffered by my host from an arrow-wound in one of his eyes, or to give him a charm to prevent the death of his cattle, I was so fortunate as to effect a splendid cure on one of his sons, which procured me great fame.

Saturday, June 28.—On leaving Sulléri in the morning, we took a different route from that previously traversed, and which proved infinitely more interesting, although in the morning, after we had passed a small farm-village where all the field-labourers were at work, we had to cross a very extensive forest, and I became greatly exhausted. Having passed about noon several villages, which proved to be all slave-villages with the exception of one, which contained a lord’s mansion of neat appearance, suddenly the character of the country changed entirely, and we came to a wide depression or hollow, from one hundred to one hundred and twenty feet deep, which, winding round on our left, formed a fine green vale, bordered on the other side by a picturesque cone[79] rising abruptly, and forming on the east side a wooded terrace, while on the west it displayed a steep bare rocky bank of horizontal strata, and on this side, after a small interruption, a low ridge attached to it encircling the hollow on all sides.

Having reached the south-eastern foot of the cone by a gradual ascent, we obtained a view over the varied and rich scenery before us, a luxuriant mass of vegetation broken at intervals by comfortable-looking little hamlets, and bounded in the distance by a cone stretching out to a great length. Having crossed a small watercourse, and wound along between erractic blocks of granite, scattered about in wild disorder, and interrupted, wherever the ground offered a small level, by rich crops of grain, we reached the first hamlet of this most picturesque locality. It is one of the chief seats of the Démsa, or rather comprises two distinct villages, namely, Démsa-Póha and Démsa-Mésu.

It was indeed a most charming sight when we made our way along a broad well-trodden path, surrounded on both sides by neatly fenced clusters of large huts, encompassed by waving corn and picturesque clusters of trees. Thus we reached the “lamórde,” the residence of the governor, which is situated at a short distance from the southern foot of the large granitic cone; but he was absent, having gone on an expedition against the Fúri, an independent pagan tribe in the neighbourhood, and we had to wait some time before his servants undertook to assign us quarters, when we had to retrace our steps to the southern part of the village. It was half-past four in the afternoon when, feverish and extremely weak as I was, I at length found rest, but while reclining at full length in a cool shade, I listened with delight to Íbrahíma’s chat, who, in order to cheer my spirits, gave me an account of that famous expedition to the far south which the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa undertook a few years ago, and to which I have already alluded.

This memorable campaign having proceeded from Búbanjídda, none of the people of Ádamáwa, whose acquaintance I was able to make during my short stay in the country, had participated in it, so that all the accounts which I received of it were extremely vague. The expedition, after a march of almost two months, is said to have reached an unbounded expanse of unbroken plain, and, having kept along it for a day or two, to have arrived at an immense tree, in the shade of which the whole host found sufficient room. Here they found two natives of the southern regions, who informed them that they were the subjects of a powerful queen that resided in a vast town of two days’ march in circumference. These people, they say, were of short stature, and wore long beards. Frightened by these reports, and by the waterless tract before them, the expedition retraced their steps. Similar reports with regard to a very powerful female sovereign towards the south are also current in Bagírmi and all the adjacent country; but I am not able to determine whether they originate in faint rumours, spread so far north, of the powerful kingdom of Muata-ya-Nvo, or—of Queen Victoria.

To my great satisfaction, we were obliged to stay here the next day, in order to await the arrival of the lámido, when, feeling greatly recruited by a good night’s and half-a-day’s rest, I crept out of my well-polished round little clay hut in the afternoon, and, crossing the neatly fenced promenade of the straggling village, ascended a neighbouring eminence formed by an irregular mass of granite blocks, to the north of our quarters. Here I spent two delicious hours in the tranquil contemplation of the picturesque scenery, which I thought the most interesting I had yet seen in this quarter of the world. The view I took presents but a very faint idea of its peculiar features; but I hope it will give some conception of the nature of this country in general, which enables the pagan natives between this district and Hamárruwa to defend their liberty and independence against the Mohammedan intruders. These tribes are, after the Démsa, who seem to form a tolerably numerous body, first, the Mbulá, probably the same who have given their name to the place situated at some distance from Mount Míndif, and mentioned above; then, further west, or north-west, the Báchama, and still further west the Tángalé, with both of whom Mr. Vogel, on his recent journey from Yákuba to Hamárruwa, has come in contact.

Tuesday, July 1.—We made a short but highly interesting march to the place of our old friend the Mʿallem Delíl. The scenery was rich and beautiful, the crops of Guinea-corn standing from four to five feet high, alternating with fields where góza, a kind of yams, were grown, and adorned with fine spreading trees, amongst which the tármu and the kúka or monkey-bread-tree predominated; even the rocky eminences were all overgrown with fresh vegetation. We then passed a sort of shallow river, or sél, which is called by the Kanúri “ngáljam,” and forms a characteristic feature of Démsa, while on our right it expanded to a conspicuous sheet of water, bordered by blocks and masses of rocks full of vegetation. It was overgrown with rank reed at the spot where we crossed it.

Only a few minutes beyond this almost stagnant water on green meadow-land, we crossed the broad and clear torrent of the Máyo Tíyel, rushing ahead over a gravelly bottom, and at times rolling along a considerable quantity of water. According to my guides, it is formed by three branches, one issuing from Báses towards the north-east, the other coming from the neighbourhood of Bélem, and the third from the north-west from Bíngel. Only a few hundred yards further on, we passed on our left another broad sheet of water, apparently of great depth, which is said to preserve the same level at all times of the year. It is full of crocodiles, and bordered by the richest vegetation, and, being apparently quite isolated, has a very curious appearance. Perhaps it is fed by subterranean sources. It is surrounded by beautiful pasture-grounds.

We then traversed a fine open country, passing some villages, while the road was enlivened by a troop of travellers (colonists from Bórnu), among whom there were some remarkably handsome women mounted on bullocks, who bore sufficient testimony to the fact that the more elevated districts of Ádamáwa are salubrious and favourable for man. We reached Bélem at about two o’clock; but before we arrived there a circumstance happened which I must not omit to mention, as it is rather characteristic: for suddenly two of Mohammed Láwl’s servants appeared with the horse which Bíllama had sold to the governor for the price of twenty slaves, returning it under some pretext, but in reality for no other reason than because he was afraid lest it might operate by way of charm, and injure him. Bíllama was to have received the slaves in the towns still before us.

We stayed in Bélem this day and the following; and I was pestered a little by the family of old Mʿallem Delíl, but particularly by his daughter, rather a handsome person, who had been divorced from her former husband (I think Mansúr, the younger brother of Mohammed Láwl), and wanted me by all means to write her a charm to get her another husband after her heart’s desire. She was a very passionate sort of woman, and when smelling, against my wish, from my phial of hartshorn, was seized with such violent convulsions, that she was carried senseless out of my tent, and remained in this state for nearly an hour. The stay here was the more disagreeable to me as it was caused partly by the trading propensities of my servant Bú-Sʿad; and not only did he buy ivory, which he had the insolence to add to the loads of my weak camels, but even three slaves, so that I was obliged to dismiss him instantly from my service, although I had nothing wherewith to pay him off. It is extremely difficult for a single European to proceed in these countries with hired servants, as he loses all control over them. This man, who had been the late Mr. Richardson’s servant as well as mine, turned out like Mukni, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter, a great slave-dealer, and in 1855, when I was leaving Central Africa, collected a numerous gang of slaves in this very country, which he had before visited as my servant.

Thursday, July 3.—We at length resumed our journey, but only to reach Saráwu Beréberé, where we took up our quarters in the comfortable courtyard which I have described on our outward journey. I will only record the pleasing fact, that, as soon as the news spread in the town of my having returned, a man whom I had cured of disease during my former stay brought me a handsome gazelle-skin as an acknowledgment.

The next day we followed our ancient road by Badaníjo, and reached Segéro; but on Saturday, after having passed Mbutúdi without any other delay than that of buying with beads a little milk from our Fúlbe friends, we took a more easterly path, which brought us to Múglebú, a village which exhibited to us an interesting picture of the exuberance that reigns in these regions at this time of the year. The huts were scarcely visible, on account of the rich crops of grain which surrounded them on all sides, while Palma Christi formed thick clusters of bushes, and a few specimens of a remarkable tree which I had never observed before, besides isolated bananas, rose above the rich mass of vegetation, and gave to the whole the charm of novelty; but the weather was so wet that I could make but a very slight sketch, and was wholly prevented from rambling about, the rain continuing the whole of the afternoon. Besides, all my energy was required to assist my three servants, who were all severely ill; and while I administered to two of them emetics, I had to soothe ʿAbdallah with a dose of laudanum. It was very fortunate indeed that I myself felt a little better. In short, our stay here was anything but agreeable, and I was worried by several people with demands which exceeded my power—such as to drive out devils, relieve impotency, and so on; but the mayor sent me a goat, fowls, milk, and a little butter. The village, which consisted of about two hundred huts, seemed to be in good circumstances.

Sunday, July 6.—When we started at a tolerably early hour in the morning, the weather was clear and favourable; but after we had crossed the little mountain-chain which surrounds the village of Múglebú at some distance to the east and north, and reached a small hamlet presenting signs of very careful cultivation, and numerous herds of cattle, we were drenched by a heavy shower. It is generally supposed that storms in the tropical climes break forth in the afternoon, or in the course of the night—and this certainly is the general rule; but if there has been a storm the day before, or during the night, and the weather has not cleared up, there can be no certainty that it will not come on again in the course of the morning. It is rather a rare phenomenon in these regions for a storm to gather in the morning on a clear sky; but nevertheless several examples even of this will be found in my meteorological tables. The natives are not at all insensible to rain; and while the Kánembú who had attached themselves to our caravan in Badaníjo were protecting their persons with their light wooden shields, the natives of the country collected thick bushes, and formed a sort of natural umbrella over their heads. To protect the head at least from wet is most essential in these climes. On another occasion, when I come to speak about the prevailing kinds of disease, I shall have to mention how dreadfully the Fulbe sometimes suffer from the maladies of the rainy season, when employed on their warlike expeditions.

Early in the morning we reached Múfi or Múbi, but were received so inhospitably that we had great difficulty in obtaining quarters, for which we were obliged to keep fighting the whole day, as a quarrelsome mʿallem wished to dislodge me from the hut of which I had taken possession. Fortunately his better half bore the inconvenience with more equanimity; and I put up cheerfully with the little trouble which she gave me from time to time by calling at the door and begging me to hand to her some little articles of her simple household furniture. My three people were so sick that they lay like so many corpses on the ground; and their condition prevented us from setting out even the following day, notwithstanding the inhospitable manner in which we were treated here, so that I had ample leisure to study minutely the architecture of my residence, of which I subjoin a ground-plan.

The hut, measuring about twelve feet in diameter, was built in the manner most usual in these regions—namely, of clay walls, with a thatched roof. The door, a little elevated above the floor, was three feet high, and fifteen inches wide, and not at all adapted for very stout persons. From the wall at the right of the door (a) ran another wall, “gáruwel súdo,” of the same height, but unconnected with the roof, right across the hut in an oblique line, to the length of about six feet, separating one part of the dwelling, and securing to it more privacy. In this compartment was the bed (c), consisting of a frame made of branches, and spread over pilasters of clay about three feet high. In the most sequestered part of the hut, in the corner formed by the round enclosing wall and the oblique one, at the top of the bed—“kéla kagá,” as the Kanúri say—stood the corn-urn (d), about six feet high, and, in its largest part, two feet wide, destined to keep a certain provision of corn always at hand; besides this, there was a smaller one (fe) at the foot of the bed—“shí kagá.” At the side of this smaller urn were two small pedestals of clay (g), serving the purpose of a sideboard, in order to place upon them pots or other articles. Then followed the kitchen, “defforíde” (h), still under cover of the oblique wall, but exactly on a line with it, so that the smoke might more easily find its way through the door, and consisting of a narrow place enclosed on each side by a low wall, to protect the fire, between which three stones, or rather small clay mounds like fire-bricks, supported the cooking-pot, while a small wooden footstool (i) accommodated the industrious landlady when busy with her most important culinary employment. While to all this part of the hut a certain degree of privacy was secured by the oblique wall, a considerable space to the left of the door remained unprotected; and here stood the large water-urn (f), which, always remaining in its place, is filled by means of smaller portable urns or pitchers.

Tuesday, July 8.—It seemed almost as if we were destined to stay another day in this place; for just when we were about to start, a most violent shower came down, and lasted full two hours. When at length we were able to set out on our road to Úba, it was excessively wet, the streams greatly swollen, and the weather still anything but bright and clear. At Úba, again, we remained much longer than I wished. In the evening, after our arrival, the governor went on an expedition against the Kílba-Gáya. Falling suddenly upon the poor pagans at early dawn, he captured a good many slaves; but the persecuted natives rallied, and, taking advantage of a defile through which he had to pass on his return to his residence, suddenly attacked him, and succeeded in rescuing all their countrymen from the hands of their relentless enemies. During my absence the corn had almost ripened; and the fields afforded a spectacle of the utmost exuberance. Almost all the grain here is sorghum, and mostly of the white kind; the average height of the stalks was from nine to ten feet. The whole area of the town was clothed in the richest vegetation, of great variety, where a botanist might have made a numerous collection.

Thursday, July 10.—Íbrahíma, the principal of the two men whom Mohammed Láwl had appointed to escort me to the frontier of his province, accompanied me a short distance when we left Úba. This man, who, perhaps because he was not well treated in Kúkawa, behaved rather sullenly on our journey to Ádamáwa, had become infinitely more amiable after the governor of that country had sent me back. He not only manifested on every occasion his heartfelt sorrow on account of my having been disappointed in the expectation of travelling over that interesting country in every direction, but he still more lamented that his countrymen had been deprived, by the imprudence of their ruler, of the advantage of my presence in the country. I have had occasion to observe repeatedly, that there is a great deal of republican spirit in Fúlbe, and that they have in general the air and manners of freeborn men, though I shall have to dwell upon the deterioration of this original character in the case of the inhabitants of Sókoto.

The commencement of our march through the unsafe and infested boundary-district from Úba northward was not very auspicious; and I was almost afraid lest, after having been allowed to reach the frontier unmolested, we were doomed to some insidious treachery in these lawless lands. The original arrangement was, that some other people should succeed to Íbrahíma, in order to see me safe to Íssege; but they never made their appearance, and we had scarcely parted from Íbrahíma when all sorts of alarms frightened and disturbed our little band. First a dreadful noise was heard from above the rocks at the foot of which lay our road; but it was found to proceed only from a countless multitude of birds of prey enjoying their liberty in noisy mirth. Then, when we reached the fields of corn within this rocky passage, which on our outward journey we had seen under cultivation, we were prevented by armed men from passing through them, and were obliged to make a long circuit. A little further on, people came running after us, and attempted to take away by force two of the slaves whom some of our companions were leading along; and when resisted, they raised a dismal cry for help, which was heard resounding to a great distance through the wild country. Serious quarrels seemed imminent; but fortunately no one came to their assistance.

About thirty travellers, all of them armed either with spears or with bows and arrows, had attached themselves to our troop. I got ready all my cartridges; and we were well on our guard. We had advanced about five miles from Úba, and were in the middle of the forest, when a more serious alarm arose, several people being seen lurking among the trees,—an unmistakable proof that they meditated an attack, if we should exhibit any signs of weakness. We therefore rallied a moment, and formed in front, the most sturdy of our spearmen gathering round me, and begging me to take steady aim when they should point out to me the chief men. But the natives, belonging most probably to the tribe of the Báza, who always infest this road, seeing that we were prepared to receive them, did not dare to quit their ambush; and having continued awhile along the path, we thought it wiser to leave it, and struck off to the west into the thickest covert of the wood, where the camels with their luggage had some difficulty in passing through, especially as the soil was cracked and rent in all directions. Having trudged on in this way for about two hours, and feeling sure that we were not pursued, we returned to the path, but left it again about noon, and, pursuing another track, reached Laháula, a village of unlucky memory, on the western side. But this time we were well received, not only by ʿAisha, but also by his wild and passionate son, who became a great friend of mine, and, having received from me a present of a knife, brought me three fowls in return, while his father sent túwo for all my people. I sketched the danísko, or handbill of my friend, which was of a peculiarly regular shape.

Friday, July 11.—On leaving Laháula in the morning, we again preferred the covert to the beaten path; but after we had gone round Kófa, which Bíllama thought it better to avoid, we returned to our well-known road parallel to the river and the mountain-chain beyond, and reached Íssege without any accident, early in the afternoon. There, too, my reception was very different from that which I had experienced on my going; and I was received with the utmost kindness and hospitality into the house of a wealthy family at the northern end of the village, and quartered in a neat little hut, the walls of which consisted of thatch, like the roof, but were plastered over with clay. The little hut, which scarcely measured seven feet in diameter, contained two couches, one raised above the ground to the right, and the other on the level of the ground on the left of the entrance. Three spears, a common shield, and a large shield called “chággo” by the Marghí, “kutufáni” by the Kanúri, consisting of a thick texture of reed, and big enough to protect two or three persons, a basket and a net, “úturu,” hanging from the roof, formed the furniture of this little dwelling, which was the apartment of the youngest son of the family, a fine, tall, and slender young man, with a very pleasant expression of countenance. Except that he wore the “funó,” a small leathern apron, round his waist, he was quite naked, but loaded with coquettish ornaments. Round his neck he wore a double string of red beads, a little lower another set of three strings of corals, and still lower again a set of two strings of iron beads; on his left shoulder he wore four broad iron rings, or “kégelá;” on his elbow two other narrow iron rings (barachággo) very neatly worked like beads; on his wrist six narrow and one broad iron ring, or “únzo,” and above them an ivory ring, or “yécho.” The right arm was not so richly endowed with ornaments, having only four iron rings at the upper part, and two on the wrist. Below his knee he wore a chain of cotton very neatly twisted—this is called “shishídderi,”[80]—and on his foot-joint a narrow iron ring called “míltedo.” However, I observed afterwards, that this young man did not wear all the national ornaments of his tribe; for I saw others who wore in addition an iron chain round their loins, which is called “shushú.” All these iron articles are very neatly made by the people of Wándalá, Morá being only two days’ march from this; and I only regret that I was not able to bring some of these articles home as specimens of the industry of the natives, as well as of the excellent quality of iron which they possess. This young man did not wear the “sér,” as they call it, a small reed or feather in the left ear.

I delighted my youthful host by the present of a mirror; and I gave a knife to his father, when he returned from the labour of the field. My little hut was not without a crowd of visitors the whole of the afternoon, all the friends of my host coming to see me. They were admitted in a regular way, five at a time, and behaved very decently, while they admired the few curious things which I had to show them. I was greatly amused by the simplicity of my young host and one of his brothers, who, when I presented them with small bits of sugar, gradually nibbled them away, and at the same time compared their size continually, till they were reduced to very diminutive morsels, when they agreed between them to give the remnants to a sister.

The language of these people, which, as I have stated, is intimately related to that of the Bátta, seems to show that they belong rather to the family of South African tribes, than to the group of neighbouring tribes of Central Negroland.

We had plenty of good fare in the evening, the Bórnu titular mayor of the place sending me a sheep, besides corn for the horses, and our hosts preparing a fowl for myself, and several dishes of hasty-pudding, with fish-sauce, for my people. The evening being clear, and illuminated by splendid moonlight, I sat a long time outside—perhaps too long in my precarious state of health—enjoying the sound of music and dancing which came from the opposite quarter of the village; but I was not a little astonished when I heard from my young friend, whom I asked why he did not go to join in the merriment, that it was not an ordinary amusement, but a religious dance to celebrate the death of an old man; for if a person in old age dies, his death is deemed a cause of satisfaction and mirth, while that of a young one is lamented with tears.

I have already noticed some peculiar customs of the Marghí; but I must say a few words about their curious ordeal on the holy granite rock of Kóbshi. When two are litigating about a matter, each of them takes a cock which he thinks the best for fighting; and they go together to Kóbshi. Having arrived at the holy rock, they set their birds a-fighting, and he whose cock prevails in the combat is also the winner in the point of litigation. But more than that, the master of the defeated cock is punished by the divinity, whose anger he has thus provoked; and on returning to his village he finds his hut in flames.

It is evident that this tribe, as well as many of the neighbouring ones, venerate their forefathers, in which respect they closely resemble the South African tribes, although the Berbers also seem originally to have had this sort of worship as well as the Háusa people. The Marghí do not practise circumcision; but, what seems very remarkable, they practise inoculation for the small-pox, at least to a considerable extent.

As I was sitting outside the courtyard, by degrees a great many natives collected round me, when a young man took me aside and entreated me earnestly to give him a remedy against the dislike of people. I, however, soon succeeded in making him confess that he meant only the dislike of one girl, who, he said, did not relish his haughty demeanour, and that he was reduced to a state of desperation, and wished for nothing but to die in battle. This example shows that even these simple people have some sentiment of love.

Saturday, July 12.—I had some difficulty in persuading Bíllama to leave this hospitable place; but I was ashamed to cause these good people, who had been robbed and despoiled a short time ago by Kashélla ʿAlí, any more trouble. We took a more easterly path than that by which we had travelled before, but nearly of the same character—full of holes and crevices, and covered with thick forest, while the nutritive root “katakírri” employed the several members of our caravan continually, particularly a Púllo pilgrim from the far west near the coast, who was indefatigable in digging as well as in eating. We had only proceeded a few miles when we met a troop of Marghí, who were going to perform a sacrifice in the holy grove of Íssege, one of them carrying a sheep and another a fowl. One of them had ornamented his shield with red lines, which on the black ground of the elephant’s hide were quite becoming; but I do not think that this custom is general; perhaps it had some connection with the sacrifice.

After a march of eight hours, we reached the first cluster of huts of the Northern Molghoy, where we wished to find quarters; but the unfortunate people, by the recent exactions and contributions levied on them by the Kanúri, were driven to a state of despair, and obstinately refused to receive us. There remained, therefore, no alternative but to continue our march, and to try to reach Yerímarí; but the effort was too much for me, and had the worst consequences in my reduced state of health. I was for some time quite senseless when, after a ride of thirteen hours, I succeeded in reaching the well-known place, and threw myself flat upon the ground of my little hut. Scarcely had my luggage arrived, when a storm, which the whole afternoon had been hanging over our heads, broke forth, and continued till midnight with unabated violence.

Man as well as beast was so exhausted that we remained here the following day, when I felt strength enough to walk out a little into the fields. There was an extraordinary difference between the advanced state in which I had left the crops in Ádamáwa and that in which I found them here. The reader will remember that the fields round this place were just being sown on the day of my leaving it; and during the time of my absence rain must have been rather scanty, so that the crops were scarcely twenty inches above the ground. In the afternoon, Bíllama, who was always obliging, gave me some information with regard to the adjacent country.

Monday, July 14.—We continued our march, and, with a halt during the hot hours, reached Ujé Kasúkulá in the evening. The aspect of the country offered unmistakable proof of our advance northwards. Even the grass here was barely an inch or two above the ground; the crops, where most advanced, were ten or twelve inches high, while other fields were still covered with the tunfáfia, or Asclepias gigantea,—a sure proof that they had not yet been brought under cultivation. We passed a good many cotton-fields. I reached the place in a state of the utmost exhaustion, and was obliged to stay here three days to recruit my strength, taking hardly any food but quinine, and placing a plaster of cantharides on my chest. The governor of the place, Kashélla ʿAlí Aláwó, treated my party very hospitably and kindly, and showed sincere compassion for my feeble condition. I learnt from him, to my great satisfaction, that Mr. Overweg had really embarked in the boat on the Tsád, and was gone to the Búdduma.

Friday, July 18.—At length we set out again; but though I felt a little better, I was glad when, after a short march of three hours through a very pleasant and populous country, we took up our quarters in a place called Gúlfo, a great proportion of the inhabitants of which are Shúwa. Having passed the hot hours in a spacious and cool hut, I enjoyed for a while the freshness of the evening outside, in my courtyard, delighted at the same time by the sight of the herds of cattle returning from their pastures.

Shortly before we reached Gúlfo, we had passed a village entirely inhabited by Shúwa, and even called Shúwarám.

Though we had now reached the monotonous alluvial plains of Bórnu proper, yet the following day’s march in the company of my friend Bíllama, who, after we had become better acquainted, was anxious to gratify my desire for information in every respect, was highly interesting. Although the vegetation was very poor in comparison with that of the more southern districts, yet there was plenty of underwood, and we observed the small bush called “kúmkum,” the berries of which taste very like coffee, and which in reality may be a kind of Coffea. On our right we left a path leading by Yámaké, Tangállanda, and Kirbáje, to Kabé-Ngáwa, a place famous on account of its neighbourhood affording the “fógo,”—wood from which the shields (ngáwa) of the Kánembú are made: it lies on the road to Díkowa, passing by a place called Ájowa. The spears of the natives (kasékka) are made from the root of the kindíl or talha, but the javelin (béllam) from that of the kúrna; the shafts of arrows are made from the “kabílla”-bush, which hereabouts grows in great abundance. Cultivated and pasture-ground alternately succeeded each other, and I was astonished to see that the produce of this district was exclusively argúm móro, or Pennisetum, while ngáberi, or Holcus sorghum, is a much more general grain in Bórnu, with the exception of the country of the Koyám. A little before eleven o’clock we finished our day’s march in a small village called Múnghono-Mabé, where I took possession of a large hut constructed in the peculiar style of the Shúwa, the roof being of an oval shape, without the characteristic top or head, the “kogí ngímbe,” and supported by a pole, “dúngulis,” in the middle of the hut, while the thatch is made in a very irregular and hasty manner, the compactness of wickerwork being insufficiently supplied by a heap of reeds thrown upon the roof and fastened with ropes.

Sunday, July 20.—I felt much better; and after a beautiful moonlight night, we started earlier than usual, “dúnia kéte.” The morning was very fine; but the sun soon became rather powerful and troublesome. We passed a considerable pool of stagnant water surrounded by fine trees, tamarinds, and sycamores, such as in this district, where stunted mimosas form the predominant feature of the vegetation, are only seen in very favoured spots; it is called “kúlugu Hámtigu.” On the path itself also, deeply cut as it was in the sandy soil, there was a good deal of water. We passed the site of a large town named Dóngo, which had been destroyed by the Fúlbe or Felláta some forty years ago, but of which the circumference of the wall was still visible, the gate being marked by a colossal monkey-bread-tree or Adansonia, the constant follower of human society, spreading its gigantic branches out like an immense candelabrum. Bíllama brought me the berries of a bush called “búlte,” the taste of which was very much like currants; and further on he presented me with a “fitó,” a red fruit looking exactly like red pepper, with numbers of small kernels, and of a somewhat acidulous taste.

We rested a little more than three hours, during the heat of the day, near a pond of stagnant water, in a district rich in pastures, where, among numerous herds of the Shúwa, the cattle of Háj Beshír were also grazing. But the ground hereabouts seemed to be nothing but one continuous world of ants, which did not allow us a moment’s undisturbed repose, and even during our short stay they made several successful attacks not only upon part of our luggage, but even of my dress.

When we set out again, at an early hour in the afternoon, numerous pools of water along the road testified to the presence of the rainy season; and the village Máska, which we passed soon afterwards, was surrounded with corn and cotton-fields as well as by rich green pasture-grounds. The path was well frequented. We met first a horseman of the sheikh sent as a messenger to Ujé, with the order to call in the numerous horse of that district; and Bíllama was of opinion that his master had thoughts of arranging the affairs of Khadéja. Further on we met a troop of Shúwa women, who, in a mournful song, lamented the death of one of their companions. They passed us too rapidly to allow the words of their song to be distinctly heard.

The country on our left, and that on our right, showed a remarkable contrast; for while, on our left, cornfields, fine pasture-grounds, and villages succeeded each other, on the right an immense ghadír, or fírki, still dry, and only sparingly covered here and there with a little coarse herbage, stretched out to an immeasurable distance. At an early hour in the afternoon, deviating a little from the path, we turned into the village of Káliluwá Grémarí, which belongs to ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the second brother of Sheikh ʿOmár, and found the male inhabitants of the village sitting in the shade of a chédia or caoutchouc-tree, busily employed in making wicker-work. However, they proved too clearly that we had entered the inhospitable zone in the neighbourhood of the capital; observing, with great coolness, that the sun was as yet high, and would enable us still to make a good march to some other place, they would hear nothing of our quartering in their village. But Bíllama was not the man to be laughed at; and, riding through the midst of them, he took possession for me of one of the best huts. I could not, in truth, approve of this despotical mode of dealing; but I was too weak to run the risk of spending a night in my tent on the damp ground. The villagers seemed to be drained to the utmost by their gracious lord, and did not possess a single cow; even fowls were scarcely to be seen.

In the evening I was greatly amused, at first, by the noisy hum of a “mákaranchí,” or school, close to my hut, where, round a large fire, some six or seven boys were repeating, at the highest pitch of their voices, and with utter disregard of the sense, a few verses of the Kurán, which in the daytime they had been taught to read by their master, who, doubtless, understood them as little as the boys themselves; but by degrees the noise became almost insupportable. It is generally thought in Europe, that a schoolboy is too much tormented; but these poor African boys, for the little they learn, are worried still more—at least, I have often found them in the cold season, and with scarcely a rag of a shirt on, sitting round a miserable fire as early as four o’clock in the morning, learning their lessons. Besides, they have to perform all sorts of menial service for the master, and are often treated no better than slaves.

Monday, July 21.—The country which we passed in the morning presented more pasture-grounds than cultivated lands; and after a little while I turned, with my companion, out of our path, to the left, towards a small encampment or “berí Shúwabe” of the Kohálemí, a Shúwa or Arab tribe, where, for three large beads, called “nejúm,” we bought a little fresh milk. On this occasion I learned from Bíllama, that the Shúwa or native Arabs settled in the district of Ujé belong to the tribe of the Sáraji, while the Sugúla and the Sálamát have their camping-grounds further east.

The country became rather dreary, black “fírki”-ground and sandy soil alternately succeeding each other; and traffic there was none. But when we reached the well of Maira, a considerable place which we passed on our left hand, the path became animated from an interesting cause, a whole village or “berí” of wandering Arabs passing through in search of fresh pasture-grounds to the west. Each mistress of a family was sitting on the top of her best household furniture, which was carefully packed on the backs of the cattle, and covered with hides, while a female slave followed her, sitting astride on the less valuable gear and the poles with pots and other such utensils; but, distinguished above all by the harness of her bullock, the neat arrangement of her seat, a leather tent-like covering over her head, and the stoutness of her own person, sat the wife of the chief. Most of these women, however, were rather slender than otherwise, testifying to the sound and well-preserved national taste of these Arabs. They never veil the face, and their dress is simple and decent; but they are not nearly so tidy as the Fulfúlde ladies. Most of the men followed at a great distance with the flocks of goats and sheep.

When this interesting procession had passed by, the monotony of the country was more intensely felt. The proud Kanúri of the towns mock the inhabitants of these districts, who have nothing but a few cattle and goats, with the verse: “Sémma bíllani—berí kaní” (“This is the whole of my town—cattle and goats;” or, in other words, “The town and moat, two cows and a goat”). The poor stunted mimosas had been cut down in many places, in order that the whole tract being changed into a quagmire or swamp, it might be sown with the peculiar kind of holcus called “másakwá” (Holcus cernuus); and then these black, dismal-looking plains become one field of life and wealth. This remarkable change in the aspect of the country, and this second harvest, which takes place in the middle of the cold season, and by which the fírki, or fírgi, becomes a fírgi mosogábe (másakwábe), I shall have to describe in another place.

We then entered a well-cultivated and thickly inhabited district called Yelé, where it was a novelty to be obliged to draw water from the well or barrem Yelé; for since reaching Ujé on our journey out we had constantly met waterpools or small rivulets, from which we took our supply, and even the well at Maira was rendered quite superfluous by a large tank close by. However, I have already had occasion to observe that the water from these stagnant pools is anything but wholesome, particularly after the rainy season, when they receive no further supply; and I have no doubt that the drinking of such water is the principal, if not the only cause of that dreadful and widespread disease (the “fárantít” or “ʿarúg”—“ngíduwí” in Kanúri—“the misery”) which disables the working man, and makes him a poor wretched being—the guineaworm, which is sure to be met with in at least one out of three persons who travel a great deal through the whole of Central Africa. I never met with an instance of this disease in a woman. It seemed to me, too, as if the pagans, whose nakedness exposed all their limbs to view, suffered less from it.

There seemed to be no superfluous supply of water in the district through which our road then lay, which appeared as dry as I had left it, only thinly scattered and lonely blades of grass shooting up here and there; but yet there was a favoured spot where the road from Márte to Alárge crossed our path, adorned with fine wide-spreading tamarind-trees, and rain-clouds were approaching from the east to fertilize the soil, and make it capable of production. We therefore hurried on, and took shelter in the village Mʿallem-Shíshi, in order to let the storm pass over; our hut, however, was so incapable of resisting heavy rain, that as soon as the storm broke out we were almost swamped. The carelessness with which the houses of the natives are built in this region is an unmistakable evidence of the difference of the climate; on the other side, we have seen the neat huts of the people of Fúmbiná, and we shall see those of the despised pagan natives of Músgu. The people assured me that this was the first regular rain which they had had this year, the first preparatory shower having fallen thirty days ago, and the second two days ago.

The clouds having taken a southerly direction, we started forth in the afternoon, after some hesitation, but had scarcely been an hour on the march, and were just in the middle of a wide dismal-looking ghadír or fírki, when the clouds, having gathered again over our heads, poured down violent torrents of rain, so that in a few moments the whole country looked like a lake, and our progress was excessively difficult. At length, after an hour and a half, in the most uncomfortable state we reached the village Kiryúmmuwa, where I was quartered in a rather magnificent but as yet unfinished hut of clay, and endeavoured to dry my wet clothes as well as I could.

We were now only one day’s march from Kúkawa; and we started early the next morning, in order to reach home before night. The neighbourhood of the capital had been sufficiently indicated already during the last day’s march by the dúm-bushes, which, with the melancholy Asclepias gigantea, might well decorate the scutcheon of Kúkawa—with more justice, indeed, than the kúka, or monkey-bread-tree, from which the name was taken, but of which but a few poor stunted specimens are to be seen in the courtyard of the palace in the eastern town.

We had scarcely gone a mile when we met the first body of Shúwa, men and women, who were returning with their unloaded pack-oxen from the great Monday market of the capital; and then the string of market-people on their way to their respective homes was almost uninterrupted. While our people followed the road, Bíllama and I turned off a little to the left, in order to pay a visit to the mayor of Múnghono and obtain a cool drink; for since I had had the fever I suffered greatly from thirst, and the water from the wells in general, as preserving a mean temperature of about eighty degrees, was quite tepid. The place lies in an elevated position; and on its south side there is a hollow, where wheat and onions are cultivated after the rainy season, while another cavity surrounding it on the north and east sides, and where at present only small separate water-pools are collecting, forms, later in the season, one continuous lake. There is a great deal of iron-stone, “kau súwa,” hereabouts; and it is used by the native blacksmiths, though it affords but an inferior sort of metal—far inferior to the excellent iron, the “sú-búltu,” of Búbanjídda. While passing through the place, I was greatly struck with the variety which the roofs of the huts exhibited, and made a slight sketch of them (see previous page).

Múnghono, which is likewise the name of the whole district, has been a place of importance from early times, and is often mentioned in the history of the Bórnu kings. After the richness of natural forms which I had beheld in Ádamáwa, the country seemed extremely monotonous, there being nothing whatever to cheer the eye except the blossom of the mimosas, which spread a sweet scent all around. We encamped during the hot hours of the day near the well of Káine, where we had great difficulty in supplying ourselves with water from the well, while a little later in the season a large lake is formed here: for Africa is the region of contrasts as well in nature as in human life.

When we set out again from this place, people from the town, who had been informed of our approach, came to meet us; and I heard, to my great satisfaction, that the crafty Arab Mohammed el Mughárbi, whom I had already met in Gúmmel, had at length arrived with the merchandize confided to his care, the nominal value of which was one hundred pounds sterling, so that there was at least some hope of being able to carry on the mission on a small scale.

But I could not but feel pleased with my reception on returning to headquarters in this part of the world; for when we approached the southern gate of the town, three horsemen, who were stationed there, came galloping up to me, and having saluted me with their spears raised, placed themselves in front, and in stately procession led me through the town to my house, where I was soon regaled with a plentiful supper sent by the vizier. I afterwards perceived that he had expected me to pay him my respects the same evening; but, as I felt very weak, I deferred the visit till the next morning, when, on his return from an early visit to the sheikh, he gave me an audience in the presence of all the people. Having expressed his sorrow at my reduced state, and having inquired how I had been received in Ádamáwa, he entered, with apparent delight, into a long conversation with me respecting the form of the earth and the whole system of the world. On being asked what I now intended to do, I replied that it was my design, after having made the tour of the lake, to try to penetrate into the regions south of Bagírmi. He immediately expressed his doubts as to the possibility of going round the lake as far as the Bahar el Ghazál, but promised to further my plans as far as possible, although he thought that I had done enough already, and should rather think of returning home safely with the results of my labours; for seeing me so weak during the first rainy season which I was spending in these regions, he was afraid that something might happen to me.

Well satisfied with this audience, I returned to my quarters and wrote a short report to H.M.’s Government, of the results of my journey, informing them that my most deeply cherished hopes with regard to that river in the south had been surpassed, and requesting them to send an expedition in order to verify its identity with the so-called Chadda. This report, which was sent off by a courier a day or two before Mr. Overweg’s return from his navigation of the lake, and which was overtaken by a messenger with a short account of his survey, created general satisfaction in Europe, and procured for me the confidence of H.M.’s Government. Meanwhile I endeavoured to arrange the pecuniary affairs of the mission as well as I could.

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I had left Kúkawa on my journey to Ádamáwa in the best state of health, but had brought back from that excursion the germs of disease; and residence in the town, at least at this period of the year, was not likely to improve my condition. It would certainly have been better for me had I been able to retire to some more healthy spot; but trivial though urgent business obliged me to remain in Kúkawa. It was necessary to sell the merchandize which had at length arrived, in order to keep the mission in some way or other afloat, by paying the most urgent debts and providing the necessary means for further exploration. There was merchandize to the value of one hundred pounds sterling; but, as I was obliged to sell the things at a reduced rate for ready money, the loss was considerable; for all business in these countries is transacted on two or three months’ credit, and, after all, payment is made, not in ready money, but chiefly in slaves. It is no doubt very necessary for a traveller to be provided with those various articles which form the presents to be made to the chiefs, and which are in many districts required for bartering; but he ought not to depend upon their sale for the supply of his wants. Altogether it is difficult to carry on trade in conjunction with extensive geographical research, although a person settling quietly down in a place, and entering into close relations with the natives, might collect a great deal of interesting information, which would probably escape the notice of the roving traveller, whose purpose is rather to explore distant regions. Besides, I was obliged to make numerous presents to my friends, in order to keep them in good humour, and had very often not only to provide dresses for themselves and their wives, but even for their domestic retainers; so that, all things considered, the supply of one hundred pounds’ worth of merchandize could not last very long.

I have remarked that, when I re-entered Kúkawa, the cultivation of the ground had not yet begun; indeed, the whole country was so parched, that it became even a matter of perplexity to find sufficient fodder for the horses; for the whole stock of dry herbage was consumed, and of young herbage none was to be had. It is stated in my memoranda, that on the 5th of August I paid twelve rotl for a “kéla kajímbe,” or large bundle of dry grass; an enormous price in this country, and sufficient to maintain a whole family for several days; but that was the most unfavourable moment, for in a few days fresh herbage sprang up and made good all deficiencies. While speaking on this subject, I may also mention, that the herbage of Kúkawa, being full of “ngíbbi,” or Pennisetum distichum, horses brought from other countries generally fare but badly on it, as they are reluctant to fill their mouths with its small prickles.

Rain was very plentiful this year (1851), and I am sure would, if measured, have far exceeded the quantity found by Mr. Vogel in 1854. Indeed, there were twelve very considerable falls of rain during the month of August alone, which together probably exceeded thirty inches. It must be borne in mind, moreover, that the fall of rain in Kúkawa does not constitute the rule for the region, but is quite exceptional, owing to the entire absence of trees and of heights in the neighbourhood. Hence, the statement of Mr. Vogel in one of his letters, that the line of tropical rains only begins south of Kúkawa, must be understood with some reserve; for if he had measured the rain in the woody country north of that capital, between Dáwerghú and Kalíluwá, he would, in my opinion, have obtained a very different result. It is evident that all depends upon the meaning of the expression, tropical rain. If it imply a very copious fall of rain, Kúkawa certainly does not lie within the limit of tropical rain; but if we are to understand by it the regularly returning annual fall of rain, produced by the ascending currents of heated air, it certainly does. There was a very heavy fall of rain on the night of the 3rd of August, which not only swamped our courtyard, but changed my room, which lay half a foot lower, and was protected only by a low threshold, into a little lake, aggravating my feverish state very considerably, and spoiling most of my things.

On the 5th of August rain fell for the first time unaccompanied by a storm, though the rainy season in general sets in with dreadful tornadoes. The watery element disturbed the luxurious existence of the “kanám galgálma,” the large termites, which had fed on our sugar and other supplies, and on the 6th they all of a sudden disappeared from the ground, and filled the air as short-lived winged creatures, in which state they are called by the people “tsútsu,” or “dsúdsu,” and, when fried, are used as food. Their tenure of life is so precarious, and they seem to be so weak, that they become very troublesome, as they fall in every direction upon man and his food. Of each swarm of these insects only one couple seems destined to survive; all the rest die a violent death.

The town now began to present quite a different appearance; but while it was agreeable to see the dryness relieved, and succulent grass and fresh crops springing up all around, and supplanting the dull uniformity of the Asclepias gigantea, on the other hand, the extensive waterpools formed everywhere in the concavities of the ground, were by no means conducive to health, more especially as those places were depositories of all sorts of offal, and of putrefying carcasses of many kinds. The consequence was that my health, instead of improving, became worse, although I struggled hard, and as often as possible rode out on horseback. All the people were now busy in the labours of the field, although cultivation in the neighbourhood of the town is not of a uniform, but of a varied character; and a large portion of the ground, consisting of “ánge” and “fírki,” is reserved for the culture of the masákuwá (Holcus cernuus), or winter-corn, with its variety the kérirám.

On the 8th of August the neighbourhood presented a very animated spectacle, the crownlands in Gawánge being then cultivated by a great number of people, working to the sound of a drum. Their labours continued till the 15th; on which day Mr. Overweg had the honour of presenting his Búdduma friends to the sheikh of Bórnu. All nature was now cheerful; the trees were putting forth fresh leaves, and the young birds began to fledge. I took great delight in observing the little household of a family of the feathered tribe; there were five young ones, the oldest and most daring of which began to try his strength on the 12th of August, while the other four set out together on the 14th.

Marriages are not frequent about this time, on account of the dearness of corn; but matches are generally made after the harvest has been got in, and while corn is cheap. I shall speak in another place of the marriage ceremonies of this country.

On the 5th of September we obtained the first specimen of new “argúm móro,” white Negro millet, which is very pleasant to the taste when roasted on the fire; but this is regarded as a rarity, and new corn is not brought into the market in any great quantities before the end of November, or rather the beginning of December, when all the corn, which has been for a long time lying in the fields in conical heaps, called “búgga,” is threshed out.

My friend, the vizier, whose solicitude for my health I cannot acknowledge too warmly, was very anxious that I should not stay in the town during the rainy season; and knowing that one of our principal objects was to investigate the eastern shore of lake Tsád, sent me word, on the 11th of August, that I might now view the Bahar el Ghazál, an undertaking which, as I have already mentioned, he had at first represented as impossible. The news from Kánem, however, was now favourable; but as I shall speak in another place of the political state of this distracted country, and of the continual struggle between Bórnu and Wadáÿ, I need only mention here that the Welád Slimán, who had become a mercenary band attached to the vizier, had been successful during their last expedition, and were reported on the very day of my return from Ádamáwa to have made a prize of one hundred and fifty horses and a great many camels, which, however, was a great exaggeration.

We were well acquainted with the character of these people, who are certainly the most lawless robbers in the world; but as it was the express wish of the British Government that we should endeavour to explore the regions bordering on the lake, there was no course open to us, but to unite our pursuits with theirs; besides, they were prepared in some measure for such a union, for, while they inhabited the grassy lands round the great Syrtis, they had come into frequent contact with the English. We had no choice, for all the districts to the north-east and east of the Tsád were at present in a certain degree dependent on Wadáÿ, then at war with Bórnu, and we were told at the commencement that we might go anywhere except to Wadáÿ. Instead of fighting it out with his own people, which certainly would have been the most honourable course, the vizier had ventured to make use of the remnant of the warlike, and at present homeless, tribe of the Welád Slimán, in the attempt to recover the eastern districts of Kánem from his eastern rival; or at least to prevent the latter from obtaining a sure footing in them; for this object he had made a sort of treaty with these Arabs, undertaking to supply them with horses, muskets, powder and shot. Thus, in order to visit those inhospitable regions, which had attracted a great deal of attention in Europe, we were obliged to embrace this opportunity. Under these circumstances, on the 16th of August, I sent the vizier word that I was ready to join the Welád Slimán in Búrgu; whereupon he expressed a wish that Mr. Overweg might likewise accompany us; the stay in Kúkawa during the rainy season being very unhealthy.

Mr. Overweg had returned on the 9th to Maduwári from his interesting voyage on the Tsád, of which every one will deeply regret that he himself was not able to give a full account. Traversing that shallow basin in the English boat, which we had carried all the way through the unbounded sandy wastes and the rocky wildernesses of the desert, he had visited a great part of the islands, which are dispersed over its surface, and which, sometimes reduced to narrow sandy downs, at others expanding to wide grassy lowlands, sustain a population in their peculiar national independence, the remnant of a great nation which was exterminated by the Kanúri. It was a little world of its own with which he had thus come into contact, and into which we might hope to obtain by degrees a better insight. He enjoyed excellent health, far better than when I saw him before, on his first rejoining me in Kúkawa; and as he was well aware of the strong reasons which our friend the vizier had for wishing us not to stay in the swampy lowlands round the capital during the latter part of the rainy season, he agreed to join me on this adventurous expedition to the north-east.

Those regions had, from the very beginning of our setting out from Múrzuk, attracted Mr. Overweg’s attention, and while as yet unacquainted with the immense difficulties that attend travelling in these inhospitable tracts, he had indulged in the hope of being able, at some future time, to ramble about with our young Tébu lad, Mohammed el Gatróni, among the fertile and picturesque valleys of Búrgu and Wajánga. For this reason, as well as on account of my debility, which left me, during the following expedition, the exercise of only a small degree of my natural energy, it is greatly to be regretted that my unfortunate companion, who seemed never fully aware that his life was at stake, did not take into consideration the circumstance that he himself might not be destined to return home, in order to elaborate his researches. If all the information which he occasionally collected were joined to mine, those countries would be far better known than they now are; but instead of employing his leisure hours in transcribing his memoranda in a form intelligible to others, he left them all on small scraps of paper, negligently written with lead pencil, which, after the lapse of some time, would become unintelligible even to himself. It is a pity that so much talent as my companion possessed was not allied with practical habits, and concentrated upon those subjects which he professed to study.

The political horizon of Negroland during this time was filled with memorable events, partly of real, partly of fictitious importance. Whatever advantages Bórnu may derive from its central position, it owes to it also the risk of being involved in perpetual struggles with one or other of the surrounding countries. And hence it is that, under a weak government, this empire cannot stand for any length of time; it must go on conquering and extending its dominion over adjacent territories, or it will soon be overpowered. Towards the north is the empire of the Turks, weak and crumbling in its centre, but always grasping with its outlying members, and threatening to lay hold of what is around; towards the north-west, the Tuarek, not forming a very formidable united power, but always ready to pounce upon their prey whenever opportunity offers; towards the west, the empire of Sókoto, great in extent, but weak beyond description in the unsettled state of its loosely connected provinces, and from the unenergetic government of a peacefully disposed prince; for while one provincial governor was just then spreading around him the flames of sedition and revolt, towards the south another vassal of this same empire was disputing the possession of those regions whence the supply of slaves is annually obtained; and towards the east, there is an empire strong in its barbarism, and containing the germs of power, should it succeed in perfectly uniting those heterogeneous elements of which it is composed—I mean Wadáÿ.

With regard to the Turks, the state of affairs at this time was peculiar. Bórnu, as we have seen in the historical account of that empire, once embraced the whole region as far as Fezzán,—nay, even the southern portion of Fezzán itself, and even Wadán; but since the decline of the empire in the latter half of the last century these limits had been abandoned, and the communication with the north had, in general, become extremely unsafe. This state of things is necessarily disadvantageous to a country which depends for many things on the supplies conveyed from the north; and the authorities naturally wish that, since they themselves, in their present condition, are unable to afford security to this important communication, somebody else may do it. Hence it was that, after my arrival in April, when the vizier was conversing with me about the prospects of a regular commercial intercourse with the English, he declared that he should be much pleased if the Turks would occupy Kawár, and more particularly Bilma; and by building a fort and keeping a garrison near the salt-mines of that place, exercise some control over the Tuarek of Aír, and make them responsible for robberies committed on the Fezzán road. It was in consequence of this communication that I begged Her Majesty’s Government to enter into communication upon this point with the Porte.

But the matter was of a very delicate nature with regard to Bórnu. Indeed, it seemed questionable whether the Turks, if once firmly established in Bilma, would not think fit to exercise some control over the latter country. Nay, it was rather to be feared that they might try to obtain there a firm footing, in order to extend their empire; and when the news arrived in Bórnu that the ambitious Hassan Bashá had returned to his post as governor of Fezzán, with very ample instructions, the whole court of Bórnu became alarmed. The effect of this news upon the disposition of the sheikh and the vizier to enter into friendly relations with the British Government was remarkable. On the 5th of August they were not able to conceal their fear lest a numberless host of Englishmen might come into their country, if, by signing the treaty, access was once allowed them, as proposed by Her Majesty’s Government. For although they were conscious of the poverty of their country in comparison with Europe, at times they were apt to forget it. In the afternoon of the 6th the courier arrived, and the same evening Háj Beshír sent me word that they were ready to sign the treaty; and afterwards they were very anxious that the English Government should endeavour to prevent the governor of Fezzán from carrying out the ulterior objects of his ambition. At that time I had assured myself that a northern road through the desert was not suitable for European commerce, and that a practicable highroad, leading several hundred miles into the interior of the continent and passing to the south of Kanó, the great commercial entrepôt of Central Africa, and only about two hundred miles in a straight line to the south of Kúkawa, had been found in the river Bénuwé.

With regard to the empire of Sókoto, there happened at this time a catastrophe which, while it was an unmistakable proof of the debility of that vast agglomeration of provinces, proved at the same time extremely favourable to Bórnu. For on the 1st of August the news arrived that Bowári or Bokhári, the exiled governor of Khadéja, who had conquered the town and killed his brother, had thrown back, with great loss, an immense army sent against him by ʿAlíyu, the emperor of Sókoto, under the command of his prime minister, ʿAbdu Gedádo, and composed of the forces of the provinces of Kanó, Báuchi, Katágum, Mármar, and Bobéru, when several hundreds were said to have perished in the komádugu, or the great fiumara of Bórnu. In the spring, while Mr. Overweg was staying in Góber, the Mariadáwa and Goberáwa had made a very successful expedition into Zánfara; and the emperor of Sókoto could take no other revenge upon them, than by sending orders to Kanó that my friends the Asbenáwa, many of whose brethren had taken part in the expedition, should be driven out of the town, which order was obeyed, while only the well-known Kandáke, the same man whom Mr. Richardson, on his former journey into the desert, has so frequently mentioned, was admitted into the town through the intercession of the people of Ghadámes.

The immediate consequence of these circumstances was, that the court of Bórnu tried to enter into more friendly relations with the Asbenáwa, or the Tuarek of Asben, with whom at other times they were on unfriendly terms, and the prisoners whom they had made on the last expedition were released. The coalition extended as far as Góber; and the most ardent desire of the vizier was to march straight upon Kanó. To conquer this great central place of commerce was the great object of this man’s ambition; but for which he did not possess sufficient energy and self-command. However, the governor of that place, terrified by the victory of Bokhári, who was now enabled to carry on his predatory expeditions into that rich territory without hindrance, distributed sixty bernúses and three thousand dollars among the Mʿallemín, to induce them to offer up their prayers to Allah for the public welfare.

We have seen above, that the Bórnu people had given to their relations with Ádamáwa a hostile character; but from that quarter they had nothing to fear, the governor of their province being too much occupied by the affairs of his own country.

I will now say a word about Wadáÿ. That was the quarter to which the most anxious looks of the Bórnu people were directed. For, seven years previously, they had been very nearly conquered by them, and had employed every means to get information of what was going on there. But from thence also the news was favourable. For although the report of the death of the Sultan Mohammed Sheríf, in course of time, turned out to be false, still it was true that the country was plunged into a bloody civil war with the Abú-Senún, or Kodoyí, and that numbers of enterprising men had succumbed in the struggle. The business of the town went on as usual, with the exception of the ʿaid el fotr, the ngúmerí ashám, the festival following the great annual fast, which was celebrated in a grand style, not by the nation, which seemed to take very little interest in it, but by the court. In other places, like Kanó, the rejoicings seem to be more popular on this occasion; the children of the butchers or “masufauchi” in that great emporium of commerce mounting some oxen, fattened for the occasion, between the horns, and managing them by a rope fastened to the neck, and another to the hind leg. As for the common people of Bórnu, they scarcely took any other part in this festivity than by putting on their best dresses; and it is a general custom in larger establishments that servants and attendants on this day receive a new shirt.

I also put on my best dress, and mounting my horse, which had recovered a little from the fatigue of the last journey, though it was not yet fit for another, proceeded in the morning to the eastern town or “billa gedíbe,” the great thoroughfare being crowded with men on foot and horseback, passing to and fro, all dressed in their best. It had been reported that the sheikh was to say his prayers in the mosque, but we soon discovered that he was to pray outside the town, as large troops of horsemen were leaving it through the north gate or “chinna yalábe.” In order to become aware of the place where the ceremony was going on, I rode to the vizier’s house, and met him just as he came out, mounted on horseback, and accompanied by a troop of horsemen.

At the same time several cavalcades were seen coming from various quarters, consisting of the kashéllas, or officers, each with his squadron, of from a hundred to two hundred horsemen, all in the most gorgeous attire, particularly the heavy cavalry; the greater part being dressed in a thick stuffed coat called “degíbbir,” and wearing over it several tobes of all sorts of colours and designs, and having their heads covered with the “búge,” or casque, made very nearly like those of our knights in the middle age, but of lighter metal, and ornamented with most gaudy feathers. Their horses were covered all over with thick clothing called “líbbedí,” with various coloured stripes, consisting of three pieces, and leaving nothing but the feet exposed, the front of the head being protected and adorned by a metal plate. Others were dressed in a coat of mail, “síllege,” and the other kind called “komá-komí-súbe.” The lighter cavalry was only dressed in two or three showy tobes and small white or coloured caps; but the officers and more favoured attendants wore bernúses of finer or coarser quality, and generally of red or yellow colour, slung in a picturesque manner round the upper part of their body, so that the inner wadding of richly coloured silk was most exposed to view.

All these dazzling cavalcades, amongst whom some very excellent horses were seen prancing along, were moving towards the northern gate of the “bílla gedíbe,” while the troop of the sheikh himself, who had been staying in the western town, was coming from the south-west. The sight of this troop, at least from a little distance, as is the case in theatrical scenery, was really magnificent. The troop was led by a number of horsemen; then followed the livery slaves with their matchlocks; and behind them rode the sheikh, dressed as usual in a white bernús, as a token of his religious character, but wearing round his head a red shawl. He was followed by four magnificent chargers clothed in líbbedí of silk of various colours, that of the first horse being striped white and yellow, that of the second white and brown, that of the third white and light green, and that of the fourth white and cherry-red. This was certainly the most interesting and conspicuous part of the procession. Behind the horses followed the four large ʿalam or ensigns of the sheikh, and the four smaller ones of the musketeers, and then a numerous body of horsemen.

This cavalcade of the sheikh’s now joined the other troops, and the whole body proceeded in the direction of Dawerghú to a distance of about a mile from the town. Here the sheikh’s tent was pitched, consisting of a very large cupola of considerable dimensions, with blue and white stripes, and curtains, the one half white and the other red; the curtains were only half closed. In this tent the sheikh himself, the vizier, and the first courtiers were praying, while the numerous body of horsemen and men on foot were grouped around in the most picturesque and imposing variety.

Meanwhile I made the round of this interesting scene, and endeavoured to count the various groups. In their numbers I was certainly disappointed, as I had been led to expect myriads. At the very least, however, there were three thousand horsemen, and from six thousand to seven thousand armed men on foot, the latter partly with bow and arrow. There were besides a great multitude of spectators. The ceremony did not last long; and as early as nine o’clock the ganga summoned all the chiefs to mount, and the dense mass of human beings began to disperse and range themselves in various groups. They took their direction round the north-western corner of the east town, and entered the latter by the western gate; but the crowd was so great that I chose to forego taking leave of the sheikh, and went slowly back over the intermediate ground between the two towns in the company of some very chevalieresque and well-mounted young Arabs from Ben-Gházi, and posted myself at some distance from the east gate of the western town, in order to see the kashéllas, who have their residence in this quarter, pass by. There were twelve or thirteen, few of whom had more than one hundred horsemen, the most conspicuous being Fúgo ʿAlí, ʿAlí Marghí, ʿAlí Déndal, ʿAlí Ladán, Belál, Sálah, Kandíl, and Jerma. It was thought remarkable that no Shúwa had come to this festivity; but I think they rarely do, although they may sometimes come for the ʿAíd-el-kebír, or the “ngúmerí layábe.” It is rather remarkable that even this smaller festivity is celebrated here with such éclat, while in general, in Mohammedan Negroland, only the “láya” is celebrated in this way; perhaps this is due to Egyptian influence, and the custom is as old at least as the time of the King Edrís Alawóma.

I had the inexpressible delight of receiving by the courier, who arrived on the 6th of August, a considerable parcel of letters from Europe, which assured me as well of the great interest which was generally felt in our undertaking, although as yet only very little of our first proceedings had become known, as that we should be enabled to carry out our enterprise without too many privations. I therefore collected all the little energy which my sickly state had left me, and concluded the report of my journey to Ádamáwa, which caused me a great deal of pain, but which, forwarded on the 8th of August, together with the news of Mr. Overweg’s successful navigation, produced a great deal of satisfaction in Europe. Together with the letters and sundry Maltese portfolios, I had also the pleasure of receiving several numbers of the Athenæum, probably the first which were introduced into Central Africa, and which gave me great delight.

Altogether our situation in the country was not so bad. We were on the best and most friendly terms with the rulers; we were not only tolerated, but even respected by the natives, and we saw an immense field of interesting and useful labour open to us. There was only one disagreeable circumstance besides the peculiar nature of the climate; this was the fact, that our means were too small to render us quite independent of the sheikh and his vizier, for the scanty supplies which had reached us were not sufficient to provide for our wants, and were soon gone. We were scarcely able to keep ourselves afloat on our credit, and to supply our most necessary wants. Mr. Overweg, besides receiving a very handsome horse from them, had also been obliged to accept at their hands a number of tobes, which he had made presents of to the chiefs of the Búdduma, and they looked upon him as almost in their employment. He lost a great deal of his time in repairing, or rather trying to repair, their watches and other things. Such services I had declined from the beginning, and was therefore regarded as less useful; and I had occasionally to hear it said, “ʿAbd el Kerím faidanse bágo,”—“ʿAbd el Kerím is of no use whatever;” nevertheless, I myself was not quite independent of their kindness, although I sacrificed all I could in order to give from time to time a new impulse to their favour by an occasional present.

The horse which they had first given me had proved incapable of such fatigue as it had to undergo, and the animal which I had bought before going to Ádamáwa had been too much knocked up to stand another journey so soon: and after having bought two other camels and prepared myself for another expedition, I was unable, with my present means, to buy a good horse. Remembering, therefore, what the vizier had told me with regard to my first horse, I sent him word that he would greatly oblige me by making me a present of one, and he was kind enough to send me four animals from which to choose; but as none of these satisfied me, I rejected them all, intimating very simply that it was impossible, among four nags, “kádara,” to choose one horse, “fir.” This hint, after a little further explanation, my friend did not fail to understand, and in the evening of the 7th of September he sent me a horse from his own stable, which became my faithful and noble companion for the next four campaigns, and from which I did not part till, after my return from Timbúktu, in December 1854, he succumbed to sickness in Kanó.

He was the envy of all the great men, from the Sultan of Bagírmi to the chiefs of the Tademékket and Awelímmiden, near Timbúktu. His colour was a shade of grey, with beautiful light leopard-like spots; and the Kanúri were not unanimous with regard to the name which they gave it, some calling it “shéggará,” while others thought the name “kerí sassarándi” more suitable to it. In the company of mares he was incapable of walking quietly, but kept playing in order to show himself off to advantage. The Bórnu horses in general are very spirited and fond of prancing. He was an excellent “kerísa” or marcher, and “doy” or swift in the extreme, but very often lost his start by his playfulness. Of his strength, the extent of the journeys which he made with me bears ample testimony, particularly if the warlike, scientific, and victualling stores which I used to carry with me are taken into account. He was a “ngírma,” but not of the largest size. Mr. Overweg’s horse was almost half a hand higher; but, while mine was a lion in agility, my companion’s horse was not unlike a hippopotamus in plumpness.

With such a horse I prepared cheerfully for my next expedition, which I regarded in the light both of an undertaking in the interests of science, and as a medicinal course for restoring my health, which threatened to succumb in the unhealthy region of Kúkawa. Besides two Fezzáni lads, I had taken into my service two Arabs belonging to the tribe of the Welád Slimán, and whose names were Bú-Zéd and Hasén ben Hár.

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We had now joined our fate with that of this band of robbers, who, in consequence of their restless habits, having been driven from their original dwelling places in the Syrtis, after a great variety of events have at length established themselves in this border region between the desert and the fertile regions of Negroland, under the guidance of Mohammed the son of ʿAbd el Jelíl, on the ruins of the old kingdom of Kánem, very much in the same way as in the west the Welád Ammer (Ludamar) have established themselves on the ruins of the empire of Mélle. At that time they mustered a considerable force, and being joined by a great many adventurers from all the Arab tribes from the Ríf as far as Fezzán, were able to bring into the field from nine hundred to one thousand horsemen. They then turned their attention towards our friends the Kél-owí, and began to seize upon their camels, which came to Bilma for the salt-trade; these, as the reader has seen from my previous account, are always proceeding in large caravans; but it is almost impossible to give implicit credit to the statement which was made to us by several individuals, that the Welád Slimán had taken from the Tuarek more than thirty thousand camels in the course of two or three years.

If they had continued in this way for a short time, they would have brought about an immense revolution in the whole of Central Africa; for the Kél-owí would of course not have been able to provide Háusa with salt, after having lost their camels, and thus, having no salt for bartering, would have remained without the most necessary articles of subsistence: they would accordingly have been obliged either to starve or to emigrate into, and take possession by force of, the more fertile districts of Sudán. But before they were driven to this extreme, they made one energetic effort against their enemies, and succeeded; for, having summoned the contingents of all the different tribes inhabiting Aír or Asben, they collected a host of at least seven thousand men, chiefly mounted on camels, but comprising also a considerable number of horsemen, and proceeded to attack the lion in his den, in the beginning of the year 1850.

I am almost inclined to suspect that the people of Bórnu had a hand in this affair; at least, the existence of such a warlike and restless horde of men, and mustering considerable forces, as the Welád Slimán were then, under the guidance of Mohammed, and in such a neighbourhood, could not be wholly indifferent to any ruler of Bórnu possessed of prudence and foresight. Of course, since its power had decreased to such a degree that it could not of itself make the necessary resistance against the daily encroachments of the Tuarek, it was of great service to Bórnu to have such a strong and energetic auxiliary to keep them down. But, be this as it may, the Arabs left their very strong entrenchments at Késkawa (which, at the first news of the intended expedition, they had formed on the border of the Tsád, and which the Tuarek themselves confessed to me they would never have been able to conquer), and separated, not thinking that their enemies were able to carry out their intention; for all those tribes which had come to join them, as the Gedádefa, the Ferján, the Urfílla, the Ftáim, Swási, Temáma, and Dhóhob, after having enriched themselves with the spoils of the Tuarek, were anxious to carry away their booty in safety, and proceeded on their home-journey by way of Kúffara. They were just encamped in the Wady ʿAlála, where my readers will soon have to accompany me, when a scout brought the news that a very large host of the Tuarek was close at hand; but they say that his report did not find credit, and that on this account the Arabs had no time to make any preparations, but were all on a sudden surrounded on all sides by the numerous host of their enemy. It is moreover to be understood that the greater part of this band were merely armed with guns, which are very useful in a skirmish of horsemen, who can retreat after having fired them off, but of very little use in close combat; few of them were armed with pistols, and still fewer with swords. But the Kél-owí, in addition to their numbers, had also the advantage of superior arms, having spear, sword, and dagger, even if we do not take into account their muskets, which they rarely know how to use. The consequence was, that the Arabs, after having killed a small number of their enemies in the foremost lines, were soon overpowered and massacred, not half of them succeeding in making their escape. Their chief Mohammed himself made his way through the host very severely wounded, and was slain, according to report, shortly after by a Tébu woman who recognized him. Sʿaid, the most valiant of all the Welád Slimán, but also the most violent, was killed on the spot, together with the bravest champions of the little horde; and a very considerable booty was made by the Tuarek, not only in camels and slaves, but also in silver, the chiefs having amassed a great deal of property. Thus the flower of this troop was destroyed, and only the least brave and youngest were left.

The vizier of Bórnu then took the young man, to whom very little power and property were left, under his special protection, entering with him and the remaining part of the tribe into a contract, to the effect that he would furnish them with horses and muskets, as far as they should stand in need of them, on condition of their delivering to him a certain share of their booty in every expedition. Of course, such a troop of swift horsemen armed with muskets, if kept in strict subjection and subordination, might have proved exceedingly useful on the northern borders of Bórnu, on the one side as a check upon the Tuarek, on the other upon Wadáy. But the great difficulty, which the vizier appears not to have overcome, was to subject the predatory excursions of such a set of people to some sort of political rule.

With this view he sent the young chief, who was scarcely more than twenty years of age, to Kánem with all that were left of the Welád Slimán, keeping back in Kúkawa, as hostages for his proceedings, his mother and the wives and little children of some of the principal men. But from the beginning there was a strong party against the young chief, who had not yet achieved any exploit, and whose sole merit consisted in his being the nearest relation of ʿAbd el Jelíl. ʿOmár, his uncle, who from his youth had given himself up to a life of devotion, and was called a Merábet, had a considerable party; and there were, besides, several men who thought themselves of as much importance as their chief. In the absence of individual authority in a small band like this, which only numbered two hundred and fifty horsemen, no great results could be produced. All the tribes settled in Kánem and the adjacent districts were their natural enemies: the Nóreá or Nuwárma, and the Shendákóra and Médema, the Sákerda and Karda in the Bahar el Ghazál, the Búltu, the Woghda, the Welád Ráshid, the Díggana or Dághana, the Welád Hamíd, the Hommer and the Máhamíd in Khúrma, all were bent upon their destruction, while none but the Lasálʿa or el Asálʿa beyond Kárká, and the Kánembú tribe of the Fugábú, were attached to them. All the tribes around call them only by the name Mínnemínne, or Menémené (“the Eaters”), which name, although it seems to have arisen in the real gluttony of these Arabs, might be referred appropriately to their predatory habits.

In the course of these broils and petty intrigues the most respectable among them took to commerce, while others formed the design of returning; and when I left Bórnu in May 1855, the rest of the little band had separated into two distinct camps, and the dissolution or ruin of their community was fast approaching. This was the horde with which, in order to carry out the objects of our mission to the utmost of our power, Mr. Overweg and I were obliged to associate our fate; but, unfortunately, we were unprovided with that most essential article for exciting a more than common interest in ourselves personally, or the objects of our mission, namely, valuable presents.

While our people pitched our tents, Mr. Overweg and I went to pay our compliments to Sheikh Ghét and ʿOmár, and to have a friendly talk with them before we proceeded to more serious business. They seemed to expect this compliment, having lain down in the shade of a tree at a short distance from our place of encampment. Ghét, who was smoking a long pipe, was a tolerably handsome young man; but his pronunciation was, very defective, and he had nothing very commanding in his manner. Having exchanged a few compliments, and asked some general questions, we withdrew, and soon after received a present of dates and milk. A great many of the Arabs paid us a visit; and a renegade Tripolitan Jew, ʿAbdallah, with the surname “el Musulmáni,” who would not leave us for a moment, kept telling us of his adventures and his importance, and assuring us of his most disinterested affection for us. Though his former religion differed from ours, and he had again exchanged this for another from mere worldly motives, he nevertheless thought himself entitled to the claim of brotherhood, and was gracious enough to call us sometimes his cousins (welád ʿamí). There was another man who tried to make himself as agreeable as possible to us, and endeavoured to obtain our friendship; this was an Egyptian named Ibrahím, a fine tall man who evidently belonged originally to a good family; but he had run away from home, and was now leading, in company with this little horde, a restless, remorseful, and wearisome life.

When the heat of the day had a little abated, we prepared the small present we had to give to Sheikh Ghét, and which consisted of a red cloth bernús of good workmanship, a pound of cloves, a pound of jáwi or benzoin, and a razor. We were well aware that it was rather a trifling gift, considering the assistance we required from these people to carry out our object; but we knew also that it was rather a favour bestowed upon us by the vizier of Bórnu, who regarded these people as in his service. Referring therefore to the friendship which existed of old between their tribe, when still in their old settlements in the Syrtis, and the English consul in Tripoli, and delivering a letter from Mr. Frederick Warrington, who was personally well known to the chief men, we openly professed that the object of our coming was to try, with their assistance, to visit the eastern shore of the lake, and especially the Bahar el Ghazál, which had formed a remarkable object of curiosity in our country for some time. But Sheikh Ghét without hesitation declared it was impossible for them to take us to that place, the most dangerous locality in all these quarters, on account of the many predatory expeditions which were made to that spot from different quarters, and by tribes hostile to them. After some commonplace talk about the English, we left him, and went to his uncle with a present of precisely the same kind, and began here to urge the distinct object of our coming in a more positive way. I expressed the opinion that, as they would render acceptable service to the British Government, if they were to enable us to investigate the connection between the Bahar el Ghazál and the lake, so, on the other hand, a great portion of the blame, if we should not be able to carry out our design, would certainly fall upon them, inasmuch as they had always professed to be under great obligations towards the English. ʿOmár ben Ghét ben Séf eʾ Nasr acknowledged all this; but he doubted very much if the band, in its present reduced state, would be able to carry us to those quarters, which were entirely under the sway of Wadáy. The Bahar el Ghazál having given an opportunity of speaking about the river-system between the Tsád and the Nile, our friend came forward with a most confused statement, which it would not be worth while to explain. But with regard to that large wady itself we found that he, as well as the experienced men among these Arabs, asserted that it took its course not towards, but from the lake.

We then took our leave of ʿOmár, and returned to our tents. The place of the encampment was a fine, open, sandy, undulating level, commanding the vale, where are the wells Yongo or Bú-Halíma, covered with verdure, and richly adorned with scattered mimosas. The tents and sheds of the Arabs were spread over a great space; and no precaution was taken to obtain some degree of security by means of fences and stockades. The sun having set, I lay down outside my tent to enjoy the coolness and tranquillity of the evening after a hot and troublesome day. All seemed calm and tranquil, when suddenly a terrible screaming and crying arose from the women in the west part of the encampment. We hurried to our arms, thinking that an enemy had entered the place. The cry “ʿAlá eʾ dhahar! ʿalá eʾ dhahar” (“Mount! mount!”)—properly speaking, “In the saddle! in the saddle!”—sounded from all sides, and the horsemen hurried past us; but it was only a small party of freebooters, who, in the twilight of the evening, had made an attack upon the camels, and after having put to flight two or three men and killed a horseman, had driven off a part of the herd. Our friends pursued the robbers at full speed, and soon overtook them, when they retreated into the thicket, and gave up their booty. In this way we had a specimen of the character of our present expedition the very first day we had joined this little horde; and the lamentations of the females, on account of the man who had been slain, sounded wofully through the night, and brought before our minds the fate which, in a very short time, might befall ourselves. Late in the night, when the alarm had subsided, Sheikh Ghét sent us a heifer as a present.

Thursday, Oct. 2.—We remained quietly in our encampment, and obtained a great deal of valuable information respecting the south-eastern part of the lake and the districts adjacent. Thus the day passed by most pleasantly. Nothing remarkable happened to us on the following day, except the arrival of the important news that the Agíd of Wadáy, who had resided in Mʿawó, on the report of an attack intended to be made by the Arabs upon that town, had fled. This news, if it proved true, held out, of course, a feeble ray of hope that we might be able to penetrate to the eastern shore of the lake; and the Arabs formed schemes accordingly. As Háj ʿAbbás, who had come with us in order to raise from the Arabs Háj Beshír’s share in the spoil of their last predatory excursions, was to return to Kúkawa in a few days, I wrote a letter to the vizier concerning the prospect we had of probably not being able to accomplish the whole of our design. The rest of the day I enjoyed in comfort, stretched quietly in the shade of a tree; but my tranquillity was a little disturbed by disputes that arose amongst my men.

Saturday, Oct. 4.—Very early in the morning, when all was quiet, I was aroused from my sleep by the mournful song of an Arab, who, between the different stanzas of his dirge, seemed to give vent to his tears. The impression made by this song, which was full of deep feeling, among such a horde of lawless people, where generally only the meanest side of man was exhibited, was charming; but as the singer was at some distance from my tent, I could not distinctly make out what was the cause of his grief, neither was I able to learn it afterwards: the thoughts of the Arabs were taken up by another affair. The most handsome among the female slaves who composed part of the spoil that was to be taken to the vizier by his officer Háj ʿAbbás, had made her escape during the night; they were eagerly searching from dawn of day, but could not find her. At length they discovered her necklace and clothes, and the remains of her bones,—evident proofs that she had fallen a prey to the wild beasts. She belonged to the Yédiná or Búdduma, and was represented as having been possessed of considerable charms; and it was supposed that her loss would affect the vizier greatly, who, as I have before observed, was rather fond of an ethnological variety of female beauty. There was a great deal of unpleasant conversation about this affair, the girl not yet having been delivered up to Háj ʿAbbás when she made her escape.

But there were many other causes of discord among this little horde, and when the vizier’s officer set out, a great many more of the Arabs made use of this opportunity to go to Kúkawa than had been agreed upon. The most serious loss to us was certainly the departure of Sheikh ʿOmár, Ghét’s uncle, who, on account of his experience and knowledge of the English, which much exceeded that of his youthful nephew, might have been of considerable service to us. At any rate he ought to have informed us of his intention to leave, as by his accepting our present, it was understood that he undertook the obligation of assisting us in carrying out our project; and having nothing to spare, we felt rather disappointed. But although our prospects were not too flattering, at least we had hopes of moving a little onwards, as our departure from this place was fixed for the following day.

Sunday, Oct. 5.—When the camels, guarded by the men on foot, had left in the morning, we went first with the other horsemen to the well, in order to water our horses. We had not visited it before, as it was at some distance from our tents. The vale was of that general wild and luxuriant character which distinguishes the valleys of Kánem; but it was even more wild and picturesque than usual, and a chill draught of air met us proceeding from the richly wooded dale, where the sun’s rays never penetrated. There were several wells, which exhibited a busy and interesting scene, the horsemen in their picturesque attire (a mixed dress of their native abode and their present adopted home) thronging around these sources and centres of life, in order to water their poor-looking but persevering nags. When we returned to the place of our former encampment all was desolate, and loneliness and silence had succeeded to the animated dwelling-place of a quarrelsome multitude of people. We hurried on over undulating sandy ground, richly overgrown with trees, and soon overtook our camels: the place of our destination was not far off; and at noon we were already encamped on a fine sandy level, rising over another luxuriant hollow or vale especially rich in kúrna-trees, whence the well “Bír el Kúrna” has received its name. It was a spacious encampment, with Arabs and Tébu intermixed, and could not but be very salubrious, although we found afterwards, just in this elevated position, the difference between the cold of the night and the heat of the day extraordinary. Our appetite being rather keen, we indulged in the luxury of some turtle-soup: for turtles are by no means a rarity in these districts, although in general they seem to be of a rather small size. I do not remember to have seen or heard in this quarter of such large specimens as seem to be common in the country round Aír.

Monday, Oct. 6.—The day of the ʿAíd el kebír. I went in the morning, as soon as the sun began to shine forth, to a place in a cool shade a little south from our encampment, without knowing that this was the very spot which the Arabs had chosen for their holiday prayers. In general only a few of them were praying; but to-day the leading persons among them, who came here with Sheikh Ghét, offered up their prayer with solemnity and apparent fervour. This proved an unlucky day to us, and very unfavourable to our design to penetrate into those dangerous districts on the east side of the lake; for a considerable portion of the tribe (one hundred and fifty men with about seventy horses) left that day for Kúkawa, to our great surprise and mortification, and, as it would seem, also to the mortification of the young chief, a circumstance of which we became fully aware when we paid him a visit about noon. Of course, with our very small means, and the poor and insignificant character of our mission, we could not expect that this unsettled horde should have a scrupulous regard to our wishes and designs in arranging their affairs. It was quite evident that their proceeding was the mere effect of a stubborn sense of independence and jealousy; and it seemed to be done in open opposition to the wish of their young chief. About one o’clock in the afternoon they left; and we forwarded a short note with them expressive of our dissatisfaction at this state of things, which filled us with the saddest forebodings as to the success of our mission. But while thus disappointed in more important matters, we felt tolerably well off in material comforts; for in the morning a party of Fugábú arrived with a number of sheep for sale, selling two for a dollar, and thus enabled us to gratify the religious longing of our servants for an extra dish on this their holiday. In the course of the evening, a numerous caravan of oxen laden with grain, or rather Negro millet, arrived from Bórnu, which made provisions a little cheaper. The grain grown in the country, in its present wild and desolate state, is not sufficient for the population, though so greatly reduced; and the last season had been rather an unfavourable one. In consequence of the arrival of this caravan, we not only had the opportunity of buying corn at a cheaper rate, but we also got some from the chief as a present.

Everything in Kánem is bought with the common white Bórnu shirts, which form the general dress of the people, black tobes being worn only by richer persons. Even the general dress of the Arabs settled here in Kánem consists of these white tobes and a háík made of the same stuff, only the wealthier individuals being able to buy a woollen plaid. The dress of the females, too, is made of these very tobes, which are cut into the regular oblong pieces of which they consist, and sewn together lengthwise.

Tuesday, Oct. 7.—Being obliged to remain here without the certain prospect of doing anything worth while, we at least thought we had some right to the hospitality of our hosts; and we expressed our desire to obtain a little more milk, as we ourselves possessed neither cows nor she-camels. Our request was complied with. Thus we accustomed ourselves entirely to camel’s milk, and found it by degrees more palatable and wholesome than the milk of cows. I attribute the recovery of my strength principally to this sort of diet. There was always some milk brought into the encampment by the daughters of the Bení Hassan; but this was generally milk in an unpleasant intermediate state between sweet and sour, and the vessels (the kórió, made of the leaves of the palm-tree) in which it was carried had usually a bad smell, which they communicated to the milk. As the renegade Jew ʿAbdallah (el Musulmáni) was the medium through which all our business with the chief was transacted, I made him to-day a present of a red sash, and continued to keep him in good humour by occasional small presents. This man was a curious specimen of a Jewish adventurer. He was by birth a Tripolitan, but had been obliged to leave his native home on account of a murder which he had committed. He then betook himself to the tribe of the Welád Slimán, exchanging his Jewish creed for that of Mohammed, and obtained protection. When he had gained a good deal of property as a silversmith, his new companions stripped him of his treasures: he then for a time separated from them, and in company with two other renegade Jews, Músa and Ibrahím, made a journey to Negroland—a memorable event, as they were the first of their nation who trod this road. On his receiving news of the prosperity of the Welád Slimán in Kánem, he once more joined them, and became a freebooter. He was a very good horseman; but that was all, his horsemanship but badly supplying his want of courage. However he was useful to us in many respects, although we had to take care that the people did not confound us with these Jewish adventurers.

I began this day my little vocabulary of the Tébu language, or rather the “módi Tedá,” and provisionally that dialect of this language which is spoken by the inhabitants of Búrgu, and which varies considerably from the language as it is spoken by the inhabitants of Bilma, and in the south of Fezzán. Already at that early period I became aware that this language is nearly related to the Kanúri, while it has scarcely any link whatever which externally connects it with the Berber language.

Wednesday, Oct. 8.—The only thing which happened this day worth mentioning was the arrival of Hallúf, a warlike Tébu chieftain, with seventeen horsemen of the Fugábú Tébu, who rode up in a very spirited manner to the tent of Sheikh Ghét. Hallúf, a man of great bodily size and strength, and renowned in these quarters on account of his valour, had formerly been the enemy of Bórnu, but had now been won over to its interest. However, he was still too much afraid of the Bórnu people to join the Welád Slimán, as long as Háj ʿAbbás the vizier’s messenger was present; but he came as soon as he heard that he was gone. He was not a very scrupulous man, as I soon convinced myself, when he with the Fugábú called upon us, and as soon as he had introduced himself began begging for poison. We of course cut his demand short. He then sat quietly down with his companions, and took great delight in the performances of my musical box, which I really found, together with the watch, the most useful instrument for demonstrating to the people the great superiority of European genius and handicraft. These people were not without sympathy for those lively airs which the little instrument was capable of performing, and would sit down quietly for a great length of time enjoying this mysterious music. The rumour soon spread, and Sheikh Ghét likewise desired to be made acquainted with the mysterious little box. But the day did not end so harmlessly; for bad tidings arrived. Háj ʿAbbás, on his way to Bórnu, had seen a troop of Kindín near Ngégimi, and warned the Arabs to beware of a sudden attack. Thus uneasiness and anxiety spread through the encampment, and scouts were sent out to scour the country in every direction.

Friday, Oct. 10.—News having been brought in the morning that three Tuarek on horseback, and five on camels, had been seen at a neighbouring well, an alarm was raised immediately. All the Arabs mounted; and we followed their example, though I felt extremely weak, while my horse, having had rest and good food for several days, and seeing so many companions galloping and capering about, was almost unmanageable. The whole encampment presented a very warlike appearance; but it turned out to be a false alarm. We therefore returned into the encampment, and began to arrange our luggage, as we were to leave here the heaviest part of our things, and take only as little as possible with us in our progress further eastward; for the Arabs had conceived the hope of plunder, the news having been brought that the Khalífa of Wadáy had left his residence Mʿawó, and that nobody was there to defend that quarter against their inroads. At the same time, our friends cast a longing look towards Báteli, the celebrated pasture-grounds in the northern course of the Bahar el Ghazál, two days’ march beyond Egé, where numbers of camels were reported to be collected at the time. Of course they did not want it to become known where they intended to direct their foray, and therefore spoke now of this, then of that quarter, as likely to be the object of their expedition.

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Saturday, Oct. 11.—With the rest of our people, and with the remaining two camels carrying the smaller part of our luggage, we accompanied the following day the more active part of the horde, while the older men were left behind for the defence of the encampment, with their families and property. The country through which our way led was entirely of the same character as that which I have already described, a sandy level adorned with trees of moderate size, almost all of the genus Mimosa, and in favourable seasons well adapted for the cultivation of Indian corn—now and then broken by deep hollows of larger or smaller extent, generally with a sufficient supply of water to produce fine plantations or cornfields, and overgrown with more luxuriant vegetation. We crossed a fine vale of this description about eight miles from our starting-point, and chose our camping-ground on the higher level commanding the “Bír el Ftáim.” The hollow, however, which contains this well is rather of a peculiar kind; for, unlike the other basins, which afford sufficient space for cultivation, it is extremely narrow, while the encompassing slopes, at least that on the north side, rise to a greater altitude than the general level of the country. I made a sketch of it.

On this commanding point there was a village of the Fugábú Kóbber; and Overweg and I, before we went to our encampment, which was chosen on the southern slope, paid these people a visit, dismounting under a tree at some distance from their light huts, and were well received. They brought us immediately a dish made of the meal of Indian corn and sour milk, and sat down cheerfully, questioning us as to the difference between their country and ours, and asking, with regard to the politics of England, whether we were the friends or enemies of Dár-Fúr and Wadáy (which countries, together with Bórnu, comprised their political horizon), and expressed great astonishment at our instruments. They brought us a lion’s skin, and soon after another very palatable dish of deshíshe made of wheat, with very good butter, which had nothing of that nasty taste peculiar to the butter of Bórnu and the surrounding countries: the dish was seasoned with dates.

It would have been far more instructive and agreeable to us to be in the constant company and under the protection of these people, the natives of the country, who would have made us acquainted with its characteristic features so much better than that band of lawless robbers who took no real interest in it, except as regarded the booty which it afforded them. But they had neither power nor authority; and we were satisfied that where the Arabs were not able to conduct us, these people never could. Notwithstanding their alliance with the Arabs, they are treated with contempt by the latter, and the Arabs never omit to add a sneer when they speak of the “damned” (“ám bú”) Keráda; for so they call the Fugábú. Of course the intercourse of these two different people can neither be sincere nor intimate, and the natives were only waiting for their day of revenge. A storm gathering and threatening to burst upon us, we hastened away from this spot; but there was only a little rain. In the evening there arrived two Shúwa from the villages of the Woghda, and were thrown into irons, in order not to betray the approach of the Arabs.

Sunday, Oct. 12.—We went on a short distance to another well situated in a considerable hollow or basin, which might afford, and has once afforded, a splendid place for cultivation, but which at present was entirely blocked up and made really impassable by rank and wild vegetation. With great trouble we penetrated with the first horsemen to the well. Nobody had made use of it for a long period. The water was very bad and unwholesome. The Arabs had not encamped at this place for at least seven years; hence there was a rich abundance of excellent food for the camels; but the danger from beasts of prey was also very great. The ground was full of elephants’ dung; and wild pigeons were hovering about in great numbers.

The place for our encampment was chosen on the level commanding the rich basin on the eastern side, and descending into it by a steep slope of from three hundred to four hundred feet. Here I laid myself down in the cool shade of a luxuriant serrákh not far from the slope, and surveyed the trains of the Fugábú, who in the course of the day arrived with their little movable household, having left their former residence near Bír el Ftáím. In the evening we paid a visit to the sheikh, and as usual were obliged to give him and his companions some account of European matters, though it would have been far more interesting for us to listen to their own stories, so full of incidents of a wild restless life.

Monday, Oct. 13.—The weather was cool, and a strong north wind made it rather chilly. Having been told that we were not to leave the next day, I purchased a ram, with a white tobe which I had bought for about forty rotl in Kúkawa, receiving, besides the ram, one sʿaa or zékka of Guinea-corn to complete the bargain. I afterwards got a fine fat goat, which we slaughtered to-day, and found its meat pretty good. Hallúf came while I was lying in the shade of my serrákh of the preceding day, which I had nicely cleaned, and sat down to a chat; he assured me that he was able to bring us to Kárká or Kargha, the swampy country in the south-east corner of the lake, which forms an archipelago of small islands, and would offer his services for that purpose, but that he was afraid of Sheikh Ghét’s jealousy. He then went with me over my little Tébu vocabulary, and corrected some slight mistakes. He was quite a sociable man; but Overweg, as well as I, doubted much whether he could be trusted.

Having consulted what course to take, we went to the sheikh and asked him whether he really thought Hallúf would be able to take us with any degree of safety to Kárká. He did not hesitate to declare that Hallúf was unable to accomplish what he had boasted of, and begged us to have patience till news should arrive from Bórnu, where he had sent to ask for advice with regard to our design of visiting the eastern side of the lake, and respecting his own proceedings. We rather imagined that the vizier had given him orders, at the same time that he sent us out to Kánem, to assist us in carrying out our project in every respect; and we could scarcely hope for any favourable result by their asking advice at such a distance. We therefore complained to ʿAbdallah of the sheikh’s lukewarmness; and presuming that he was not content to leave us under the protection of Hallúf because he expected that the latter would get some handsome present from us, we told him that even if we were to go with Hallúf, we should regard ourselves as still under the protection of the sheikh, to whom we were entirely indebted for Hallúf’s acquaintance, and would make him a valuable present if we should not fail in our enterprise. This seemed to take effect; and we received the satisfactory message in the evening, that we should be allowed to go with Hallúf, but that we must make a handsome present to the sheikh, besides the large tent which I had prepared for myself in Tripoli. Being willing to make any sacrifice in order to carry out the express wish of the Government who had sent us, and elated by the prospect that something might be done, we paid another visit to Sheikh Ghét in the evening, but could not arrive at any definite arrangement. There was a great deal of talk about a certain Keghámma, who alone had the power to take us to Kárká, while Hallúf at best was said to be able to conduct us to Mʿawó; but at that time we could not make out distinctly who this Keghámma was, except that we learnt that he resided in a place called Kárafu, in the direction of Mʿawó.

Tuesday, Oct. 14.—The strong wind making it rather uncomfortable outside, I remained in my tent studying the Tébu language, and conversing with the fáki ʿOthmán, a man who, by his mild conduct, formed a curious contrast to the lawless and quarrelsome character of this band of robbers, besides being possessed of less prejudice and superstition. In the afternoon several Fugábú paid us a visit; they all behaved well, and were not troublesome. It was at length decided that we should leave the second day following, with Hallúf, for the Bahar el Ghazál and Kárká; and although we were sorry at not having brought the affair to a more definite conclusion, we yet indulged in the hope that we should be able to attain our object, when suddenly in the evening we received information that Hallúf had receded from his engagement, and that therefore no further idea of our going with him could be entertained. What the reason was for this sudden change of proceeding I cannot say; but all our arguments, of course, were faulty, as we were unable to give them sufficient weight by good presents. That the tidings of the carrying off of three herds of cattle from a village at a few miles’ distance from Yó, by the Tuarek, which arrived this evening, could have had any influence upon this course of policy was rather improbable.

Wednesday, Oct. 15.—I was so happy as to collect a good deal of information about the country of Shitáti, which we had now entered, once densely inhabited in large and populous cities, and passed the day quietly and usefully. We heard, to our great joy, that we were to go on the next day with the whole expedition.

Thursday, Oct. 16.—We had scarcely left the place of our encampment when we fell in with an elephants’ track, apparently leading to the well, and followed it for a long distance; it was well trodden, and was an undoubted proof that these huge animals abounded in this wild deserted region, where man had left scarcely any trace of his presence. Having proceeded at a swift rate, we crossed, at the distance of about six miles, a very fine hollow or vale stretching south and north, and capable of producing everything, and even at that time exhibiting a few vestiges of human activity and industry in a small field of wheat, irrigated from those wells called “kháttatír” by the Arabs, which name is given by them also to the spot irrigated in this way. Its native name, if I am not mistaken, is “Yakállogo.”

We then came to another hollow, formed like an ancient circus, and having its soil richly impregnated with natron; it is called Bérendé. After a short halt here, we continued our march; and Overweg and I, while our men and camels followed the direct road, turned off towards the south, and visited another hollow, called “Bóro,” in whose deep bottom a lake is formed, which, according to the season and to the quantity of water it contains, like several other water-basins round the lake, may be termed a fresh or brackish-water lake.

During the last rainy season but very little rain had fallen in Kánem; and consequently this lake was of rather small extent, being about one mile and a half round, and limited to the more deeply depressed southern corner of the basin, while its northern corner, which is rarely inundated, was thickly wooded. There was formerly much cultivation here, and a small village stood on the border of the lake. Now all is desolate; and our Kánemma guide, Músa Bedé, unwilling to make a longer stay in such a spot, hurried on, ascending the steep eastern slope, which is at least three hundred feet high. Here we obtained a view over a great extent of country; but it was all one desolate wilderness, and nothing particular to be seen, excepting a party of five men watching our movements, and keeping parallel with us. We therefore returned to our troop and informed them of the circumstance; and a body of horsemen were sent in pursuit. We then, about half an hour before noon, crossed another hollow or vale, called Towáder, with the dry basin of a lake in its southernmost part, on whose border were several wells; the ground was thickly overgrown with underwood. Continuing our march, we reached, after noon, a more extensive and extremely beautiful vale, richly clothed with vegetation, but not in so wild a state, and not of the same impenetrable character, as many of those which we had seen; the reason seemed to be, that it was less deep, being only about one hundred and fifty feet under the higher level.

Here the troop halted during the heat of the day, the groups being scattered over the whole extent of the hollow; but it was not a fit spot for a night’s encampment, as well on account of the wild beasts, as of the danger of a sudden attack from hostile men. Sweet as repose was here in the cool shade of a luxuriant serrákh or a kúrna, the ground was full of scorpions; and my bodyguard, Bú-Zéd, was severely stung by one. Accordingly, when the dhohor had passed by, the order was given for decamping, and we kept along the vale and ascended the eastern slope, when, on an entirely open ground almost bare of trees, we chose a place for our night’s encampment. The Arabs here brought us a young ostrich which they had caught in the valley; and we had a long unprofitable conversation with them in endeavouring to obtain their goodwill.

Friday, Oct. 17.—We started very early, for a long day’s fatiguing ride; for, notwithstanding all the care I took of myself, I could not recover from my sickly state, and was extremely sensitive of fatigue. The country in the beginning of our march was less adorned with trees than usual; but it became more densely wooded after we had passed the vale called Asfúra. This hollow, of small extent, and enclosed all around by steep slopes, is provided with a great number of wells of excellent water; but its bottom, being in most parts stony, is almost bare of vegetation, with the exception of here and there a dúm-bush. While the men made a short halt for taking in a supply of water, I went a little in advance with Abdallah; but I soon found that he did not know the road at all, keeping far too much to the south, and I thought it wiser to return to our people, and march along with them.

The country here offers a great variety in its configuration; and, instead of an extensive level, as before, hill and dale succeed each other. Having passed several smaller concavities, we reached a more considerable valley, called Jená ú Shelúkko, which contained corn, or rather durra fields, but they were entirely destroyed by the elephants. Grain had also been cultivated at the foot of the slope; but it had failed entirely, on account of the scarcity of rain. There were no vestiges of human habitations.

Our people had begun to make themselves comfortable in this fine valley for passing the heat of the day, when suddenly orders were given for continuing our march. The country now became more hilly. Having passed en route a hollow provided with wells and called Aghó, once one of the most famous places of Kánem, we made, after noon, a short halt in the flat dell called Núndul, in which are several kháttatír, or draw-wells, and stubble-fields, in order to provide ourselves with water, and also to water our horses. There was a great bustle and confusion, everybody wanting to get first to the wells, and proceed with the principal troop, as we were now approaching a hostile territory. My she-camel, which was a very fine little animal, but rather too heavily laden for such an expedition, was among the last that arrived; and, starting after the others, was soon left behind the whole troop; and I endeavoured in vain to bring her up.

The country here was more level than it had been in the latter part of our route; and we left on our right only one vale, which is called Maínasa. Fortunately for me, the whole host made a longer halt at two o’clock in the afternoon, in one long line, in order to exhort the little band to valour, and to give them some instructions in case of a conflict with the enemy. No quarter was to be given, and any one of them who should lose his horse or camel was to be indemnified for the loss. But a great deal was proclaimed besides, which, as I was at the very end of the line, I could not make out. Two horsemen were galloping along the line and brandishing white banners, such as I had not observed before. There was a good deal of parade in the whole scene; and at the end of it several small troops of horsemen galloped out in advance of the line as “imán,” that is to say, as bound by an oath either to be victorious or to die.

At length we pursued our course, the line breaking up into small irregular detachments, as chance or attachment grouped the people together; but we soon came to another halt, and much conversation ensued, in consequence of which, three of the Fugábú horsemen were despatched to the south, to bring up an experienced guide. Having at length resumed our march through a fine undulating and well-wooded country, we chose about sunset an open place for our encampment, where we were told we should rest till the moon had risen. Strict orders were given not to light a fire, in order that the enemy might not become aware of our approach. But as soon as it became dark, very large fires were seen to the south-east, forming one magnificent line of flame; and as it was clear that these were not common fires for domestic use, but appeared rather to be beacons, it was conjectured that the enemy had tidings of our coming, and were calling together their people. An order was therefore immediately given to proceed; but scarcely were the loads put upon the camels, and everything ready for the march, when a counter-order was received, that we were to remain. We then began to make ourselves comfortable, when a third order was given to load immediately and to pursue the march.

This ordering and countermanding seemed to arise rather from the bad organization of a band subject to no strict authority, but where every man of any experience and a little valour had something to say, than with the intention of misleading a lurking spy; but, whatever the cause, it was rather trying, and my two men, Bú-Zéd and Ahmed, neither of whom was very energetic, could scarcely be persuaded to load a second time, while all the people were getting ready with great expedition, and marched off as soon as they were ready. We therefore remained behind from the beginning. Unfortunately the load was so badly adjusted that several things soon fell down and had to be replaced; and this happening more than once, the distance between us and the host became so great, that at last not even the slightest noise could be heard of the troop before us to direct our course; but having once noticed the direction by the stars, I was able to guide my servants. To make matters worse, the ground was covered with high grass, and it was not easy to proceed at a rapid rate. Trees were very scanty here.

At length the Arabs became aware of my having been left at a great distance behind, and about midnight made a halt, when I overtook them. After having lightened my camel, we proceeded with expedition through the dark night, illuminated only by the distant fires, which gave a painful idea of the resistance we were to meet with, till after two o’clock in the morning of the 18th, when we reached a rising ground, and, dismounting, lay down near our wearied horses to get an hour’s rest.

We then continued our march with great alacrity for an hour, when we came to a halt on undulating sandy ground thickly covered with bushes. The horsemen galloped on in advance, while Overweg and I remained with the train, consisting of from sixty to seventy camels mounted by young men, and boys not more than ten years old, who were looking forward with such avidity for prey that they could scarcely be kept back. At length we began to proceed slowly, but soon came to another halt, as till now we had not heard a single shot; but when the day dawned, the greedy multitude could not be kept back any longer, and on we went.

We here obtained a faint view of an irregular valley-formation ahead of us, adorned with a few palm-trees, which, in the dubious light of the dawn, gave to the country an interesting and entirely new appearance. Crossing this valley-plain, we gradually ascended higher ground, and reached a small deserted village, consisting of large spacious huts. But though we turned off from it to the north, in order to prevent our little troop from dispersing to make booty, the best-mounted and most daring of them started off on their light mehára to see if something might not have been left to suit them.

Some little cultivation was to be seen around the village; but in general the country continued to bear the most evident traces of desolation. At length its dreary aspect became relieved, and we descended into a regularly formed valley called Gésgi, about five hundred yards broad, and enclosed between high cliffs of sandstone. This was the first regular valley-formation which we saw on our journey to Kánem; for as yet all depressions in the ground presented rather the character of hollows without a regular shelving or sloping in any direction. This valley, on the contrary, extending from north to south, was apparently the occasional channel of a small torrent, and, on account of the moisture extending over the whole of it, was adorned with several groups of palm-trees, and in several places with cornfields.

But while this valley presented great attraction to the European traveller, it was not less attractive to the covetous Arab freebooter; and all order ceasing in our little troop, the young inexperienced lads who composed our cortége dispersed in all directions. Some small flocks of sheep had been observed in the valley; and they were now pursued by part of our companions, while others ransacked the huts of a small hamlet situated on the western brow of the vale. It was very fortunate for us that no natives were lurking hereabouts, as they might have done immense mischief to our troop, scattered as it was about the country. Overweg and I were almost left alone, when, after having looked about in vain for traces of the footsteps of the horsemen who had gone in advance, we ascended the eastern slope, which was extremely steep and very difficult for the camels. Gradually our companions, fearing to expose themselves by staying behind, collected around us, and we proceeded in a south-easterly direction, when we soon came to another and more favoured valley, called Hénderí Síggesí, its bottom adorned with a thicker grove of date-trees and with beautiful cornfields—that is to say, fields of wheat with their golden stalks waving in the wind—while the high ground, being elevated above the bottom of the valley about one hundred and twenty feet, was planted near the brow with fields of millet, which was just ripe, but not yet reaped. What with the rich vegetation, the steep cliffs, the yellowish crop, the burning hamlet, and the people endeavouring to make their escape, it formed a very interesting scene.

Keeping along the western brow, which in some places, where the rock lay bare, was extremely steep, we observed that several natives, including even two or three horsemen, had taken refuge in the thickest part of the date-grove, watching our motions. A small hamlet of straw huts of a peculiar shape, not unlike those of the Koyám described on a former occasion, and lying at the very brink of the steep rocky declivity, had been set on fire. Our wild, lawless companions now began to descend into the valley at a spot where the slope was more gradual, raising a war-cry in order to frighten those people who were hid in the grove. Five good horsemen would have sufficed to overthrow this whole troop of young unbearded lads, who were snapping their firelocks without being in general provided with balls. It was very lucky, indeed, that Overweg and I with our people kept well together in the foremost part of the train, for the natives, rushing suddenly out from their hiding place upon the stragglers, laid hold of two camels, with which they immediately made good their retreat, their young riders, who a moment before had shown such courage, having betimes jumped off their animals and run away. Our companions were now full of gesticulations and warlike threats; but nobody dared to attack the small body of men, and dispute with them their booty. We soon reached the level on the eastern side of the valley; but if we had hesitated before what course to pursue, we were now quite puzzled to find the whereabouts of the horsemen. Wandering thus up and down without any distinct direction, we of course, as it was not safe for us to dismount and take a moment’s rest, suffered great fatigue, after a whole day and night’s journey. Meanwhile the sun had almost reached the zenith, and I felt extremely weak and exhausted.

At length some of the horsemen were seen, at a great distance beyond a more shallow dell, driving before them a herd of cattle; and rescued at length from the dangerous position in which we had been, destitute as we were of any sufficient protection, we hastened to cross the valley, and to join our more warlike and experienced friends. Falling in with them, we went together to a place a little further down this wide flat valley, where there were a small hamlet and stubble-fields. Here at length I hoped to get a little rest, and lay down in the scanty shade of a talha; but unfortunately there was no well here, and after a very short halt and a consultation, the order was given to proceed. I was scarcely able to mount my horse again and to follow the troop. The Arabs called this valley, which was very flat and produced no date-trees, Wády el Ghazál, but what its real name is I did not learn; it has of course nothing to do with the celebrated and larger valley of this name. The well was not far off, in another fine valley, or rather hollow, deeper than Wády el Ghazál, but much flatter than either Síggesí or Gésgí, and called Msállat or Amsállat. It was adorned with a wild profusion of mimosa, and in its deepest part provided with “kháttatír” or draw-wells, irrigating a fine plantation of cotton, the first we had yet seen in Kánem.

The Arabs had not made a very considerable booty, the Woghda having received intelligence of their approach and saved what they could. The whole result of the expedition was fifteen camels, a little more than three hundred head of cattle, and about fifteen hundred sheep and goats. The Arabs were for some time in great anxiety about Ghét, and a party of horsemen who had gone with him to a greater distance; but he joined us here, driving before him a large flock of sheep. We were busy watering our horses, and providing ourselves with this necessary element. But there was not much leisure; for scarcely had we begun to draw water, when the alarm was given that the Woghda were attacking us, and three bodies of horsemen were formed in order to protect the train and the booty. The main body rushed out of the valley on the south-east side, and drove the enemy back to a considerable distance; but the intention of encamping on the slope near this well was given up as too dangerous, and it was decided to go to a greater distance, though the intention of penetrating to Mʿawó seemed not as yet entirely to be abandoned. It took us a considerable time to get out of this wooded valley, the Arabs being afraid of being attacked and losing their booty.

At length, the cattle and flocks having been driven in advance, we started, and, leaving the vale, ascended elevated rocky ground, from which, following a south-westerly direction, we descended, a little before two o’clock in the afternoon, into the narrower eastern part of a deep and beautiful valley, which here is adorned by a pretty grove of date-trees, while its western part expands into fine cultivated ground. Here we made a halt of about half an hour, in order to water the animals and replenish our skins; for not even here was it thought advisable to encamp, as it is regarded as a very inauspicious place, this being the spot where, in 1850, the Kél-owí fell upon the Welád Slimán and almost exterminated them. After so short a halt we again pursued our march. I was now so totally exhausted that I was obliged to dismount at short intervals and lie down for a moment; and once when left alone, it was only with the utmost exertion that I was able to mount my horse again; but nevertheless I managed to drag myself along. At length, about sunset, we chose a place for our encampment on the brow of the slope descending into a deep valley. Having now been thirty-four hours on horseback with only short and insufficient intervals, I fell senseless to the ground, and was considered by Mr. Overweg and our people as about to breathe my last. But after an hour’s repose I recovered a little, and, having had a good night’s rest, felt myself much stronger on the following morning, so that I could even undergo some exertion which was not exactly necessary.

Monday, Oct. 20.—Descended with our people into the valley when they went to fetch water. It is called Áláli Ádia, or Jerád, from a small hamlet lying on the highest ground, and called Áláli. The well was very rich and plentiful; but no traces of cultivation appeared at the foot of the date-trees. The slope was rather steep, and about one hundred and thirty feet high. The Arabs, who had contracted their encampment or “dowar” within the smallest possible compass, barricading it with their baggage, as all the empty bags which they had taken with them on the expedition were now full of corn from the magazines of the enemy, were not at all at their ease, and seemed not to know exactly what course to take, whether to penetrate further in advance or to return. Several Fugábú and people belonging to Hallúf came to pay their respects to Sheikh Ghét; and a person of considerable authority, called Keghámma, or rather Keghámma-futébe (Seraskier of the West), the very man of whom we before had heard so much talk, came also and paid me a visit in my tent; for, being in a weak state, I had been obliged, when the sun became oppressive, to pitch my tent, as there was no shade. There being no other tent in the encampment, I received visits from several parties who wished to breakfast a little at their ease, and among others from a man called Kédel Batrám, Hallúf’s brother. Keghámma stated that he was certainly able to bring us to Kárká; but this was a mere pretence, and he himself retracted his promise shortly afterwards before the sheikh. Our cherished object lay still before us, at a considerable distance; but our friend Ghét thought that he had brought us already far enough to deserve some more presents, and plainly intimated as much to us through ʿAbdallah. Fortunately I had a handsome yellow cloth caftan with me, embroidered with gold, and towards evening, when I had recovered from a severe fit of fever which had suddenly attacked me in the afternoon, we went to pay our compliments to the chief, and begged him to accept of it; at the same time we told him we should be satisfied if we were enabled to visit the district belonging to the Keghámma. But the situation of the Arabs soon became more dangerous, and nothing was thought of but to retrace our steps westward with the greatest possible expedition.

I was lying sleepless in my tent, in a rather weak state, having scarcely tasted any kind of food for the last few days on account of my feverish state, when, in the latter part of the night, a great alarm was raised in the camp, and I heard the Arabs mount their horses and ride about in several detachments, raising their usual war-cry, “Yá riyáb, yá riyáb;” but I remained quietly on my mat, and was not even roused from my lethargical state when I received the intelligence that a numerous hostile army, consisting of the Woghda, the Médelé, the Shíri, and the people of the Eastern Keghámma, was advancing against the camp. I received this news with that indifference with which a sick and exhausted man regards even the most important events. Neither did I stir when, with the first dawn of day on the 21st, the enemy having actually arrived within a short distance, our friends left the camp in order to offer battle. I heard about ten shots fired, but did not think that the Arabs would be beaten. Suddenly Overweg, who had saddled his horse at the very beginning of the alarm, called out anxiously to me that our friends were defeated, and, mounting his horse, started off at a gallop. My mounted servant, Bú Zéd, had long taken to his heels; and thus, while Mohammed was hastily saddling my horse, I flung my bernús over me, and grasping my pistols and gun, and throwing my double sack over the saddle, I mounted and started off towards the west, ordering Mohammed to cling fast to my horse’s tail. It was the very last moment, for at the same time the enemy began to attack the east side of the camp. All the people had fled, and I saw only the chief slave of Ghét, who, with great anxiety, entreated me to take his master’s state sword with me, that it might not fall into the hands of the enemy.

But I had not gone a great distance when I heard firing close behind me, and, turning round, saw the Arab horsemen rallying, and with the cry, “He keléb, keléb,” turn round against the enemy, who had dispersed in order to collect the spoil. I went on in order to inform Mr. Overweg, who, together with the Arabs who were mounted on camels, and even several horsemen, had fled to some distance and posted themselves on a hill. Assuring him that the danger was over, I returned with him to the camp, where we were rather surprised to find that not only all our luggage was gone, but that not even a vestige of my tent was left.

The enemy, attracted only by the English tent and Sheikh Ghét’s baggage, had scarcely touched the effects of the other people, but considered my tent as a fair prize and ran away with it. But the Arabs pursuing them, we got back most of our things. A leathern English bag of mine which contained some articles of value had been cut open, just, as it seemed, at the moment when our friends came up with the enemy. Our chief loss consisted in our cooking utensils and provisions; I also much regretted the loss of an English Prayer-Book, which had belonged to Mr. Richardson. Four of the Arabs had been killed, and thirty-four of the enemy. Mr. Overweg was busily employed in dressing some severe wounds inflicted on our friends. The Arabs were furious at the insolence, as they called it, of the enemy who had dared to attack them in their own encampment, and they swore they would now go and burn down all their hamlets and their corn. The horsemen actually left, but returned in the course of the afternoon rather silently, with a sullen face and unfavourable tidings; and before sunset they were once more obliged to defend their own encampment against another attack of the energetic natives; they, however, succeeded in beating them off. Hallúf distinguished himself greatly by his valour, killing three or four of the enemy with his own hand.

But notwithstanding this little victory, the forebodings for the night were very unfavourable, and our friends would certainly have decamped immediately if they had not been afraid that in the darkness of the night the greater part might take to their heels, and that a shameful flight would be followed by great loss of life and property. Accordingly they determined to remain till the next morning. But an anxious and restless night it was; for they had received authentic news that a body of from thirty to forty Wadáy horsemen were to join their enemies that night and to make a joint and last attack upon them; and they were well aware that the enemy had only been beaten from want of horses. All the horses remained saddled, and the whole night they sounded the watchcry; but the most restless was the renegade Jew ʿAbdallah, who felt convinced that this would be his last night, and was most anxious to get a razor in order to shave his head before the hour of death.

Wednesday, Oct. 22.—The night passed on without the enemy appearing, and with the dawn of day the sign for decamping was given, when everybody endeavoured to get in advance of his neighbour. The enemy, as was positively stated afterwards, arrived there about an hour later; but seeing that we were gone, did not choose to pursue us. Thus we left the most interesting part of Kánem behind us, the country once so thickly studded with large populous and celebrated towns, such as Njímiye, Agháfi, and all those places which I shall describe in the Appendix from the account of the expeditions of Edrís Alawóma, with many rich valleys full of date-trees.

Keeping first in a westerly, and afterwards in a more south-westerly direction, through a rather uninteresting country, we arrived about eight o’clock in the morning in a wide vale called Tákulum, full of rich succulent herbage and fine trees, where, it being supposed that we were out of danger, it was decided to give the horses and camels a feed after having watered them. I, for my part, was extremely thankful for getting a few hours’ rest in the shade of a venerable acacia, near the gentle slope surrounding the hollow. But just in the greatest heat of the day we left this pleasant resting-place, near which is the ordinary residence of the keghámma, in the valley Kárafu, and followed a more north-westerly direction, ascending gradually from the vale, and entering a well-wooded district, where all the grass had recently been burnt, or was still burning; and in one place it was even with some danger that we found our way through the flames. This burning of the grass, as I have stated above, seems to be a general practice all over Negroland. Towards evening the country became quite open, and ahead of us a small range was seen, at the western foot of which our resting-place was said to be; but it seemed very distant, and it was quite dark when we made halt in two separate encampments, not being able to reach the point of destination. Our supper was very simple indeed; for, having lost all our provisions at the taking of the camp at Áláli, we were obliged to content ourselves with a few bad dates, the only thing we were able to obtain from our friend Sheikh Ghét.

Thursday, Oct. 23.—While our camels and people kept along the direct road, together with the train and part of the horsemen, Overweg and I, following Sheikh Ghét and his troop, took a more northerly direction, and passed the heat of the day in a fine valley. It was certainly one of the finest vales we had seen in the country, except that it did not produce date-trees. But the district of Shitáti, which we again had entered here, seems not to be favourable for that tree, while Shíri and the neighbourhood of Mawó is very productive in date-trees. Part of the bottom was laid out in cornfields, irrigated from Kháttatír, near which some huts were standing, while a larger village, at present deserted, is situated on the brow of the slope dominating the valley. It is called Burka-drússo, or Burka-drústo. Here we enjoyed a few hours of tranquil repose; but with the exception of this our enjoyment was very scanty, having nothing to breakfast upon but a handful of dates and some water. But our material wants were inconsiderable in comparison with the disappointment which we felt, as we clearly saw that all hope of reaching the Bahar el Ghazál, or even Mʿawó, was to be given up, and the hope of attaining those districts had been the only reason which had induced us to join our fate with this band of freebooters. We had spent all the property that remained to us to enable us to undertake this expedition, and our reflections therefore were far from pleasant.

When the heat of the day had passed by, the Arabs pursued their march, and we followed them, re-ascending the higher level and marching over a pleasant country well adorned with trees and bushes, while we left a hollow called Núkko on our left, one of the three vales of Shitáti which bear this name, and further on crossing another one called Arnánko. When night approached, our companions began to put their horses into a gallop in order to arrive betimes, while we preferred going on more slowly.

The country here became more undulating, and afterwards even rugged, and we made our way as well as we could in the dark, stumbling along over a rugged ground in a north-westerly direction, and were not a little delighted when at length we saw the fires of the encampment, which this time had not been pitched on the highest level, but rather in a hollow not far from the well. Its name is Bír el Hamésh, or Yégil, or, as it is generally pronounced, Yíggeli. We were the more delighted to reach it, as we found here, not only all our people and luggage, but also provisions, and we were nearly famished. Of course, we were most cheerfully hailed by those of our servants whom, with the remainder of the Arabs, we had left at the Bír el Kúrna, and who had felt the greatest anxiety about our safety, on account of the many unfavourable rumours which had reached them with regard to the proceedings and sufferings of our party. They had transported the camp from Bír el Kúrna to this place several days previously, and were looking forward to our return most anxiously. We immediately attacked a bowl of camel’s milk, and, thus materially comforted, rested outside our tents enjoying the freshness of the evening. The camp or dowar was rather narrow, being encumbered by the booty which had been taken from the enemy; and the people, dreading lest the enemy might follow them, all huddled closely together, and kept strict watch. In such circumstances the wailings of the women over the dead, which sounded through the night, accompanied by loud, mournful strokes on the great drum, could not fail to make a deep impression. However, we passed here tranquilly the following day, and enjoyed rest and repose the more as the weather was very oppressive.

We received here the positive news that the body of Wadáy horsemen who had come to the assistance of the Woghda, and had caused the Arabs so much fear and anxiety the day before, had returned to Mʿawó; and a very curious story was told with regard to them, which at once shows how highly these horsemen of Wadáy are respected by the Arabs, and the esteem which they themselves entertain for the latter. Thirty Wadáy horsemen were said to have arrived with the Woghda in consequence of their entreaties, and to have followed with them the traces of our friends, the Woghda representing to them that many of the latter had been killed. Thus they arrived in the morning when we had just left the camp at Áláli, and the dust raised by our host was plainly visible in the distance; but when the Woghda instigated the Wadáy people to go and attack that host, they wanted to assure themselves how many of the Arabs had fallen in the last battle, in which thirty-four of the Woghda were said to have been slain, and when they found only two tombs, the latter told them that in each there were ten bodies; but the Wadáy people, being anxious to make sure of the valour of their friends, had the tombs dug up, and found only two buried in each. Whereupon they stigmatized the Woghda as liars, and felt little inclined to follow the valiant robbers who had killed so many of the enemy, while they had lost so few of their own. But this story may have been adorned by our friends the Welád Slimán, who could not even deny that, besides a great deal of other booty from their own camp, which the enemy had succeeded in carrying away, the chief of the Woghda could pride himself on the red bernús which we had given as a present to Sheikh Ghét; nay, he could even boast of four horses taken from the Arabs.

Sunday, Oct. 26.—This and the following day the Arabs were all busy in writing, or getting letters written, to Kúkawa, as a courier was to leave. I myself was almost the only person who did not get a note ready; for I could not muster sufficient energy to write a letter. Had I been strong enough, I should have had sufficient leisure to make up the whole journal of my excursion to the eastern parts of Kánem; but I was quite unable, and the consequence was, that this part of my diary always remained in a very rough state. Sheikh Ghét, who thought that we were greatly indebted to him for having seen so much of the country, sent for a variety of things; but we were only able to comply with very few of his wishes. On our telling him that we were not at all satisfied with what we had seen, and that, in order not to waste more time, we had the strongest wish to return to Kúkawa as soon as possible, he wanted to persuade us that he himself was to leave for the capital of Bórnu in five or six days. But we prudently chose to provide for ourselves, and not rely upon his promise.

Monday, Oct. 27.—The courier for Kúkawa left in the morning, and in the evening a party of freebooters made an attack upon the camels of the Arabs, but, being pursued by the horsemen, whose great merit it is to be ready for every emergency, they were obliged to leave their booty, and be contented to escape with their lives. The vale in which the well is situated is rather more exuberant than is the case generally, and there were several pools of stagnant water, from which the cattle were watered. There was even a real jungle, and here and there the den of a ferocious lion, who did not fail to levy his tribute on the various species of animal property of our friends, and evinced rather a fancy for giving some little variety to his meals; for a horse, a camel, and a bullock became his prey.

Tuesday, Oct. 28.—Seeing that there was a caravan of people forming to go to Kúkawa, while the Arabs intended once more to return to Burka-drússo, we at once went to the chief to inform him that we had made up our minds to go with the caravan. A chief of the Haddáda, or rather Búngo, arrived with offerings of peace on the part of the Shíri, and came to see us, together with the chief mentioned above, Kédel Batrám who was the father-in-law of the khalífa of Mʿawó; Kóbber, or rather the head man of the Kóbber, and other great men of the Fugábú; and I amused them with my musical box. Overweg and I, disappointed in our expectations of penetrating further eastward, prepared for our return journey, and I bought a small skin of tolerable dates for half a túrkedí; while to ʿAbdallah, who had been our mediator with the chief, I made a present of a jeríd, in order not to remain his debtor.

All this time I felt very unwell, which I attribute principally to the great changes of atmosphere, the nights being cool and the days very warm.

Friday, Oct. 31.—Though we were determined to return to Kúkawa, we had yet once more to go eastward. The Arabs removed their encampment to Arnánko, the hollow which we passed on our way from Burka-drússo to Yégil. There had been a great deal of uncertainty and dispute amongst them with reference to the place which they were to choose for their encampment; but though, on the following day, very unfavourable news was brought with regard to the security of the road to Bórnu, the departure of the caravan nevertheless remained fixed for the 2nd November; for in the morning one of the Welád Slimán arrived from Kúkawa, accompanied by two Bórnu horsemen, bringing letters from the vizier, requesting the Arabs, in the most urgent terms, to remove their encampment without delay to Késkawa, on the shore of the lake, whither he would not fail to send the whole remainder of their tribe who at that time were residing in Kúkawa; for he had positive news, he assured them, that the Tuarek were meditating another expedition against them on a large scale.

The report seemed not without foundation; for the three messengers had actually met, on their road between Bárrowa and Ngégimi, a party of ten Tuarek, three on foot, and the rest on horseback, and had only escaped by retreating into the swamps formed by the lake. This news, of course, spread considerable anxiety amongst the Arabs, who were still more harassed the same day by information received to the effect that a party of fifteen Wadáy horsemen were lying in ambush in a neighbouring valley; and a body of horsemen were accordingly sent out to scour the country, but returned without having seen anybody.

Sunday, Nov. 2.—The day of our departure from Kánem at length arrived. Sorry as we were to leave the eastern shore of the lake unexplored, we convinced ourselves that the character of our mission did not allow us to risk our fate any longer by accompanying these freebooters. The camels we had taken with us on this expedition were so worn out that they were unable to carry even the little luggage we had left, and Sheikh Ghét made us a present of two camels, which, however, only proved sufficient for the short journey to Kúkawa; for the one fell a few paces from the northern gate on reaching the town, and the other a short distance from the southern gate on leaving it again on our expedition to Músgu.

The caravan with which we were to proceed was numerous; but the whole of the people were Kánembú, who carried their little luggage on pack-oxen and a few camels, while, besides ourselves, there were only two horsemen. But there were some respectable people among them, and even some women richly adorned with beads, and, with their fine regular features and slender forms, forming a strong contrast to the ugly physiognomy and square forms of the Bórnu females. The difference between the Bórnu and Kánembú is remarkable, although it is difficult to account for by historical deduction.

We were so fortunate as to perform our home-journey without any serious accident, although we had some slight alarms. The first of these occurred when we approached the town of Berí, and found all the inhabitants drawn up in battle-array, at a narrow passage some distance from the town; and at the first moment there was considerable alarm on both sides: but we soon learned that they had taken us for Tuarek, of whom a numerous freebooting party, consisting of two hundred camels and about as many horses, had a short time previously carried away all the cattle belonging to the place. The state of the country was so insecure that the inhabitants would not allow Mr. Overweg to stay here, notwithstanding his earnest protestations, so that he was obliged to make up his mind to proceed with the caravan, although he was sensible of the danger connected with such an undertaking; and certainly, if we had met with a tolerably strong party of the Tuarek, our companions would have afforded us very little protection. We were so fortunate, however, as to pass through this infested track just at the time when an expedition, laden with booty, had returned homewards.

We, however, met more than forty Búdduma half a day’s journey beyond Ngégimi, armed with spears and shields, and clad in nothing but their leather apron. They had been occupied in preparing salt from the roots of the siwák or Capparis sodata; and when they saw the first part of our caravan coming through the thick forest, they commenced an attack, so that Overweg and I were obliged to fire a few random shots over their heads, when, seeing that we were stronger than they had supposed, and recognizing some friends among the Kánembú, they allowed us to pass unmolested. But our whole march from Ngégimi to Bárrowa, through the thick underwood with which the shores of the lake are here overgrown, resembled rather a flight than anything else.

On the 10th we reached the komádugu; and after some lively negotiation with the governor or shitíma, who resides in the town of Yó, I and my companion were allowed to cross the river the same afternoon; for it has become the custom with the rulers of Bórnu to use the river as a sort of political quarantine, a proceeding which of course they can only adopt as long as the river is full. During the greater part of the year everybody can pass at pleasure. Even after we had crossed, we were not allowed to continue our journey to the capital, before the messenger, who had been sent there to announce our arrival, had returned with the express permission that we might go on. The shores round the komádugu were greatly changed, the river being now at its highest. Extensive patches were cultivated with wheat, being regularly laid out in small quadrangular beds of from four to five feet in diameter, which were watered morning and evening from the river by means of buckets and channels.

We reached Kúkawa on the 14th, having met on the road a party of about fifty Welád Slimán, who were proceeding to join their companions in Kánem. We were well received by our host, the vizier of Bórnu. We had already heard from the governor of Yó, that the sheikh and his vizier were about to leave in a few days on an expedition; and, being desirous of employing every means of becoming acquainted with new regions of this continent, we could not but avail ourselves of this opportunity, however difficult it was for us, owing to our entire want of means, to make the necessary preparations for another campaign, and although the destination of the expedition was not quite certain.

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Tuesday, Nov. 25.—Ten days after having returned to our headquarters, from the wearisome journey to Kánem, I left Kúkawa again, in order to join a new warlike expedition. The sheikh and his vizier, with the chief part of the army, had set out already, the previous Saturday. The route had not yet been determined upon—it was, at least, not generally known; but Wándalá, or, as the Kanúri call it, Mándará was mentioned as the direct object of the march, in order to enforce obedience from the prince of that small country, who, protected by its mountains, had behaved in a refractory manner. The chief motive of the enterprise, however, consisted in the circumstance of the coffers and slave-rooms of the great men being empty; and, a new supply being wanted, from whence to obtain it was a question of minor importance. There was just then much talk about a final rupture between ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán and the vizier, the former having intimate relations with the prince of Mándará; and it was for that reason that Mr. Overweg had at first thought it better to remain behind.

My means were scanty in the extreme, and did not allow me to have a mounted servant, my camp-followers consisting merely of the same naga or “jíge,” as the Kanúri call the female camel, which had proved of the highest value to me on the journey to Kánem, and of two very indifferent Fezzáni lads, weak in mind and body,—Mohammed ben Habíb and Mohammed ben Ahmed. The weather being temperate, and my spirits excellent, I followed cheerfully the Ngórnu road, with which I was well acquainted. The country looked much more interesting now than three months before, on my return from Ádamáwa. Then all was dry and barren, scarcely a single fresh blade had started from the ground, and I was obliged to draw with immense exertion my supply of water from a deep well near Kaine; now the ground was covered with young herbs, the trees were in foliage, and, near the very place of Kaine where the sheikh with his camp-followers had rested the first night, a large lake had been formed by the rains. This lake, which is surrounded by shady trees, retains its water until two or three months after the rainy season, when it begins gradually to dry up. I was therefore enabled to water my horse without any further trouble, after which I followed my people, who were in advance. Here I met with my friend Háj Edrís and Shitíma Makarémma, who were just returning from the camp. They told me that the sheikh had encamped that day at Kúkia, beyond Ngórnu. I therefore made a short halt at noon on this side of that town, in order to reach the camp during the evening without staying in the place; for the city, on all sides, at about an hour’s distance, is almost entirely surrounded by fields devoid of trees. After I had enjoyed about an hour’s rest, Overweg arrived with the disagreeable tidings that his camel, soon after leaving the gate, had fallen, and was unable to get up again even after the luggage had been removed. He therefore sent his servant Ibrahím in advance, in order to procure another camel from the vizier, while he remained with me. When we set out again we took the direct route to the camp, the road being enlivened by horsemen, camels, and pedestrians. The country on this side was only cultivated in some places; we perceived, however, two miles behind Ngórnu a carefully kept cotton-plantation, and the fields near the village of Kúkia were well cultivated. The whole of this fertile plain became a prey to the inundations of the Tsád in the year 1854, caused by a sinking of the ground, when the whole country was changed in the most marvellous way. Here we obtained a first view of the camp with its tents; but it made no remarkable impression upon me, being still in an unfinished state, including only those people who were in the most intimate connection with the court.

The “ngáufate” having its fixed arrangements, our place was assigned near the tents of Lamíno, at some distance east from those of Háj Beshír. As the greater part of the courtiers were taking at least a portion of their harím with them to the “kerígu,” a simple tent was not sufficient for them; but by means of curtains made of striped cotton-stuff, a certain space is encompassed in order to insure greater privacy. For the sheikh and the vizier, as long as we remained in the Bórnu territories, at every new encampment an enclosure of matting was erected; for it is not the custom, as has been asserted, to separate the royal camp from that of the rest, at least not on expeditions into a hostile country, nor has it been so in former times. The common soldiers had no further protection, except some light and small huts with high gables, which some of them had built with the tall stalks of the Indian corn, which lay in great abundance on the stubble-fields.

But I shall first say a few words about our friend Lamíno, whom I have already occasionally mentioned, and with whom on this expedition we came into closer contact. This man furnishes an example how in this country, notwithstanding the immense difference of civilization, in reality matters take the same course as in Europe, where notorious rogues and sharpers often become the best police functionaries. Lamíno, originally “el Amín,” had formerly been a much-dreaded highway-robber, but had now become chef de police, or, as the Háusa people would say, “serkí-n-karfi,” being, in consequence of his hard-heartedness and total want of the gentler feelings, of the greatest importance to the vizier, whose mild character did not allow him personally to adopt severe measures. Imprisoning people and ordering them to be whipped constituted one of Lamíno’s chief pleasures. He could, however, at times be very gentle and amiable; and there was nothing which afforded greater amusement to my companion and me than to hear him talk in the most sentimental manner of the favourite object of his affections, a woman whom he carried with him on this expedition. It caused us also great delight to witness the terror he felt at our comparing the shape of the earth to an ostrich’s egg; for he seemed to be quite at a loss to understand how he should be able to preserve his balance on such a globe, with his great heaviness and clumsiness.

Wednesday, Nov. 26.—Early in the morning the signal for the decampment of the army was given in front of the tent of the sheikh, by the sound of the great drum; and in broad battle-array (“báta”) the army with its host of cavalry moved onwards over the plain, which was covered with tall reeds, and showed only here and there a few signs of cultivation. This time I still remained with the camels and the train-oxen, which, mixed with pedestrians and some single horsemen in long unbounded lines, kept along the road, while single troops of Kánembú spearmen, in their light fanciful garments, mostly consisting of a small apron of rags, or a hide tied round the loins, and armed with their light wooden shields, passed the luggage-train, shouting out in their wild native manner. Thus, after a march of about eleven miles, we reached the cotton-fields of Yédi, a town of considerable magnitude, surrounded by a clay wall in a state of good repair. We passed it on a rising ground to our left, while the country on the north-western side spread out in one continuous sandy plain, dotted here and there by a few dúm-bushes (ngílle) and by a few single dúm-palms. On this side of the town, at about a quarter of an hour’s distance, after the autumnal rains, a large pond is formed, on the borders of which gardens of onions are planted by the inhabitants of Yédi, and irrigated with the aid of khattatír.

The sun was intensely hot; and the heat at noon was very great. Strange to say, during all this time I neglected to make thermometrical observations; and as far as I am aware Overweg did not pay more attention to this subject than myself: but the reason of this neglect was, that we usually started early in the morning, and seldom had shade in the neighbourhood of our tents at noon; for these, which by this time were so much worn that every object inside cast a shadow as well as outside, could give us, of course, no measure for the temperature of the air. Our protector Lamíno afterwards sent us an excellent dish of rice boiled in milk and covered with bread and honey. The rice was of a whiteness unusual in this country. Having received likewise a dish of bread and honey from the vizier, we thought it our duty to pay him a visit, and through his mediation to the sheikh also. The sheikh had alighted at his spacious clay mansion outside the walls of the city; and he was just occupied with granting a grand reception to the townspeople.

After the usual exchange of compliments, our discourse turned upon Captain Denham (Ráís Khalíl), who had once taken the same road in conjunction with Kashélla Bárka Ghaná, and with Bú-Khalúm. On this occasion also the manner in which old Mʿallem Shádeli or Chádeli, then a simple fáki, who was present, behaved towards that Christian was mentioned. We related to them what a faithful description Major Denham had given, in the narrative of his adventures, of the hostile disposition of the fáki, when the old mʿallem, who was now one of the grandees of the empire, in order to revenge himself upon Major Denham and ourselves, described to the assembly, with sundry sarcastic hints, how he had seen the Major, after his shameful defeat at Musfáya, half dead and stripped of his clothes, and exhibiting to uninitiated eyes all the insignia which mark the difference between the faithful and unfaithful. The whole spirit in which the story was told bore evidence of the enlightened character and the tolerance of these gentlemen.

All the people behaved very friendly; and the sheikh sent us in the evening two sheep, a load of “ngáberí” or sorghum, besides two dishes of prepared food. We were also entertained by a young musician, who had accompanied Mr. Overweg during his voyage on the Tsád; and in this way there was no end of feasting. Nor was there any want of intellectual food, the inquisitive and restless vizier being desirous of learning from us as much as possible on this expedition, where he enjoyed plenty of leisure. Here we remained also the following day, as some more detachments were to join the army.[82]

Friday, Nov. 28.—The ngáufate advanced as far as the town of Márte. Not far from Yédi there extends in a southerly direction, a very expansive plain devoid of any sort of vegetation except some mimosas. This is the beginning of the “fírki” ground, which comprises so large a space in the southern regions of Bórnu, and of which I have repeatedly spoken on former occasions; but the plantation of the Holcus cernuus, called “másakwá” or “mósogá” (which is limited to this peculiar territory), had not turned out well this year, in consequence of the scarcity of rain. I had marched in advance with my camel, when the vizier got sight of me, and begged me to come to the sheikh. After having saluted me in the most friendly way, he asked me why I always wore my pistols in my belt round the waist, instead of fixing them at the saddle-bow; but he praised my foresight when I appealed to the example of Ráís Khalíl, who, when thrown from his horse, on his unlucky expedition to Mándará, remained without a weapon in his hand. However, he was of opinion that at present, with such a large army, no danger of this kind was to be feared. He showed me also, in the most flattering manner, that he had imitated my example of having my chronometer continually girded around my waist; and he assured me that he found it very convenient.

The troop was here proceeding in stately order, and a broad line of battle deployed, one officer, with the title of jérma, riding in advance, and being followed by the four fan-bearers of the sheikh, in full array; but a little further on, a small tract of underwood compelled them to change their order of march, and proceed in one long line. The vizier was kind enough to send me a message to the effect that I had better get in front, so as not to be in the midst of the confusion. The place of encampment was chosen on the north-west side of the town of Márte; and when the sheikh had dismounted, in order to take possession of the mat house which had been prepared for him, the whole host of cavalry galloped up in the fiercest manner, before I was able to get out of their way, so that I received a very severe shock from a horseman, who struck against me with great violence.

In the afternoon my friend and companion on my journey to Ádamáwa, Kashélla Bíllama, called on me; and we mounted on horseback, in order to pay a visit to the market, which is held every Friday outside the western gate of the town, where an open area surrounded by several wells spreads out. But the market, at least that day, was very insignificant: it was not furnished with a single shed or stall, and not a single article of manufacture was exposed, Negro millet, butter, and wooden bowls being almost the only articles offered for sale; and sellers, as well as buyers, were very few in number. The town contains about four thousand inhabitants, and, taking into account the strategical art of this country, possesses proper defences, the clay wall being in a good state of repair, and having a gate on each side excepting the side of the market, where there are two. Towards the east there is a little cultivated ground, and on the north a small suburb, consisting of large, conical, thatched huts, where, besides Kanúri, several Fúlbe or Felláta families are living. The interior of the town consists of narrow lanes; and most of the houses are clay buildings. There was nothing interesting to be seen; but I was agreeably surprised when my companion, who was a native of this place, took me to pay my compliments to his mother, who kept a small shed, or rather, as we should say, a shop, in the little market-place inside the town. It was certainly a trait of a good-natured and friendly disposition.

We remained here the following day; but our stay was not at all pleasant, there being very little shade near the encampment, while our tents were so worn that they scarcely afforded any protection against the sun. Owing to the smallness of my means, I had been obliged to leave my large tent in Kúkawa.

Sunday, Nov. 30.—The following morning I was obliged to remain behind the army a considerable time, in order to allow the air to acquire a more genial temperature. I enjoyed the more the beautiful morning, although the country did not possess many attractions. Here, also, it exhibited that black boggy soil, called “fírki,” which is peculiar to the southern parts of Bórnu, though near the village of Little Márte, or “Márte ghaná,” some slight variation was seen, in a crop of Indian corn or “holcus” still standing in the fields; the ears, however, were quickly plucked off by the undisciplined army. Further on I reached a group of villages ornamented by a cluster of beautiful tamarind-trees, and here lay down awhile to enjoy the delicious shade. Numbers of people were resting here and there, in order to partake of the hospitality of the villagers; for, to the ruin of the country there is no commissariat in these armies to provide for the wants of the private individual, and every one must supply himself with food in the best manner he can.

Our march, however, was very short, the encampment having been chosen on the west side of the town of Alá. This town also is of some importance, and surrounded by a wall in good repair, with two gates on the north and west sides and only one on the south and east. The interior is enlivened by large trees, consisting of chédia (elastic gum), and kúrna-trees, while the huts are remarkable for their high conical roof, the thatch of which, in a great many instances, is interlaced by the clasps of the Cucurbita lagenaria, the whole looking very cheerful. The sheikh having requested me repeatedly to give my compass up to him, as he imagined it would be sufficient for one of us to possess such an instrument, I thought it prudent to offer him my musical box as a present, remarking that I would willingly give away such articles, but not scientific instruments. Several hares had been caught in the course of the day; and in the evening we had some of them very palatably dressed by the experienced female slave of Lamíno.

Monday, Dec. 1.—Soon after starting, early in the morning we had to traverse some underwood, which caused a great rush and much confusion among the undisciplined army, so that two or three horsemen were seriously injured. On such occasions, as well as in the thick covert of the forest, I had a full opportunity of testing the valuable properties of the Arab stirrups, which protect the whole leg, and, if skilfully managed, keep every obtruder at a respectful distance; indeed I am almost sure that if, on these my African wanderings, I had made use of English stirrups I should have lost both my legs. Our way afterwards led over monotonous fírki ground, where we were cheered by the sight of some fine crops of sorghum. Detached hamlets were seen in every direction, even where the country did not present any traces of cultivation; but with the exception of the Shúwa villages, this province does not contain many small hamlets, the population being concentrated in larger places. Underwood succeeded to the fírki ground, and extended to the very walls of the large town of Díkowa.

The sight of this town, with its walls over-towered by the regularly shaped crowns of magnificent fig-trees, was very imposing. The western wall, along which our road lay, was covered with women and children, and we met a numerous procession of females in their best attire, who were going to salute their sovereign upon his arrival at the encampment; and coming from the capital, which is distinguished by the ugliness of its female inhabitants, I was agreeably surprised at their superior countenance and figure. But though the observer might be gratified with the personal appearance of the natives, their industry was questionable; for only a small tract of cultivated ground was to be seen on this side of the town, girt by a forest of mighty trees.

The encampment, or “ngáufate,” began to form close to the southern wall of the town, amidst sandy ground free from trees, and completely surrounded by a thick covert. Although it was December, the sun was very powerful; and, until the camels arrived, I sat down in the shade of a “bíto,” or Balanites, while the encampment was spreading out in all directions, and approached the edge of the covert. I then gave up my shady place to Kashélla Játo, an officer of the musketeers, who, in acknowledgment, offered me a clear piece of delicious gum, just taken from the tree and full of sweet fluid; in which state it is certainly a delicacy, and is so esteemed here as well as in Western Negroland. The encampment springing up gradually from the ground, with its variety of light dwellings built only for the moment—the multifarious appearance of armed people—the number of horses of all colours, some of the most exquisite beauty—the uninterrupted train of beasts of burden, camels, and pack-oxen, laden with the tents, furniture, and provisions, and mounted by the wives and concubines of the different chiefs, well dressed and veiled,—altogether presented a most interesting picture; for now almost the whole host or “kebú,” had collected, and twenty thousand men, with ten thousand horses, and at least as many beasts of burden, were no doubt assembled on this spot. At length our two tents also were pitched, and we could make ourselves as comfortable as the scanty shade which they afforded allowed us.

In the evening, our conversation with the vizier turning upon the means which remained for Bórnu to attain once more to her former greatness, these devastating expeditions and slave-hunts fell under discussion; and I took the liberty to indicate, in opposition to such a system, the necessity of a well-established government, with a strong military force capable of extending their dominion. I also called the attention of the vizier to the point, that, as they could never rely upon the Turks, who might easily cut off all supplies of foreign merchandize, it was greatly to their interest to keep open to themselves that large river which passed a short distance to the south of their dominions, and which would enable them to supply themselves with every kind of European manufacture at a much cheaper rate than they were able to obtain them by the northern route. He did not hesitate to throw the whole blame upon the former sultans; but those poor men, when they possessed the dominion of the Kwána tribe, probably had no idea that the river which ran through their territory joined the sea; and even if they had, the relation between Islam and Christianity at that period was of so hostile a character, that, for the very reason that this stream might open to the Christians a more easy access to their country, they shunned any nearer connection with it as dangerous. However, under the present entirely altered state of affairs, there is no question that an energetic native chief, basing his power on a supply of European merchandize, as facilitated by the river Bénuwé, might easily dominate a great part of Central Africa; but energy is just the very thing these people are wanting in.

From this point of our discourse there was an easy transition to that of the abolition of slavery; and here my late lamented friend Mr. Overweg made a most eloquent speech on this important question. The vizier could not bring forward any other argument in his defence, than that the slave-trade furnished them with the means of buying muskets; and, lamentable as it is, this is certainly the correct view of the subject, for even on the west coast the slave-trade originated in the cupidity of the natives in purchasing the arms of Europeans. Such is the history of civilization! If the poor natives of Africa had never become acquainted with this destructive implement of European ingenuity, the slave-trade would never have reached those gigantic proportions which it has attained. For at first the natives of Africa wanted firearms as the surest means of securing their independence of, and superiority over, their neighbours; but in the further course of affairs, these instruments of destruction became necessary, because they enabled them to hunt down less favoured tribes, and, with a supply of slaves so obtained, to procure for themselves those luxuries of European civilization with which they had likewise become acquainted. This is the great debt which the European owes to the poor African, that, after having caused, or at least increased, this nefarious system on his first bringing the natives of those regions into contact with his state of civilization, which has had scarcely any but a demoralizing effect, he ought now also to make them acquainted with the beneficial effects of that state of society. Entering, therefore, into the views of our hosts, I told them that their country produced many other things which they might exchange for firearms, without being forced to lay waste the whole of the neighbouring countries, and to bring misery and distress upon so many thousands.

I informed them of the last negotiations of Her Britannic Majesty’s messengers with the King of Dahomé, when our friend, listening with the greatest interest to the account of these noble endeavours of Her Majesty’s Government, which he could not but admire, declared, in the most distinct manner, that, if the British Government were able to furnish them with a thousand muskets and four cannons, they would be willing to subscribe any obligatory article for abolishing the slave-trade in their country—of course not including, all at once, domestic slavery; for such a measure would scarcely be feasible in a country where all the relations of domestic life are based upon this system. But the abolition of the foreign slave-trade would be the beginning of a better system. However, I told them that, supposing Government were to entertain such a proposal, the first thing for them to do was to open themselves a road to the river Bénuwé, as it would be difficult, not only with respect to the state of the country to be traversed, but also on account of the suspicions of the Turks, to provide them with such a military store by way of the desert. But at present this whole question has been superseded; the vizier himself has succumbed, and his master, the Sheikh ʿOmár, although he has been fortunate enough once more to usurp the sovereign authority, seems scarcely sufficient to hold out any guarantee of the stability of his dynasty. Moreover, the slave-trade at present is, in fact, abolished on the north coast; and this circumstance must eventually exercise a great influence over the destinies of Bórnu, on account of its central situation, especially if at length a regular intercourse be established on the river Bénuwé.

It was our lot to remain here several days; for while the Kanúri people, who were expected to join the expedition, had already assembled in sufficient numbers, only a very small portion of the indigenous Arab or Shúwa population had as yet come up; for almost all of them live in the south-eastern parts of the country, where they have taken possession of the deserted seats of former tribes, which were annihilated or weakened in the relentless wars between Islamism and Paganism. On the first day of our arrival, our encampment was very comfortable; but every day that we stayed here it became more confined, owing principally to the numerous cavalry of these Arab tribes, almost all of whom are mounted; and many a newcomer was seen hurrying about without being able to find a spot to lie down, or to meet with friends to treat him. I myself had to entertain a respectable man among these Shúwa, of the name of Háj Hamadán, belonging to the tribe of the Hasúnna.

This man, who generally had his settlement far to the east, in the Wady Guskáb, had come some time previously to Logón in order to pay a visit to some relations of his, and had now joined this expedition. But one must be very careful with these Shúwa; for, to use a common expression, if you give them an inch, they are wont to take an ell. But for their Jewish character, I should have liked to enter into more intimate relations with them than I actually did.

Their emigration into these regions, at least several centuries ago, is certainly not without interest; and, as I have already had occasion to observe in another place, they preserve the characteristic type of their race very distinctly—a middle-sized, slender figure (which, however, is apt to become fuller as they advance in years), small pleasing features, and a dark olive complexion. Their dialect is very peculiar; and while it lays claim to a far greater purity than belongs to the dialects of the coast, by the profusion of vowels which it has preserved, its character is deteriorated, and becomes nearly ridiculous, by the continued repetition and insertion of certain words. A Shúwa is not able to say three words without inserting his favourite term “kúch, kúch,” which corresponds to the English word “thorough,” but which is not Arabic at all. When they omit the word “kúch,” they make use of another term, “bérketek,” “your worship,” which at once bears testimony to the servile and degraded position which they occupy in Negroland, although in Bórnu they are still treated with some indulgence and lenity, especially since the time when Mohammed Tiráb, the father of the present vizier, who belonged to the tribe of the Sálamát, attained the highest degree of power and influence in the country. In Wádáy again, even at the present time, they are treated very badly.

Of Kanúri people, besides a few smaller bodies of troops, only two officers, or kashéllas, ʿAlí Marghí and Jérma, were wanting. All the officers and bodies of troops on this side of the komádugu of Bórnu, the so-called Yeou, were collected together, the only exception being Kashélla Mánzo, my hospitable host in Zurríkulo, whose presence at his post was required on account of the Tuarek; for, as regards the officers and chiefs of the provinces on the other side of the komádugu, nobody is required to take part in these expeditions of the sheikh, every officer remaining at his post, except when his master enters upon a war in his own quarters.

While the encampment itself presented considerable interest, as being the temporary abode of so many people, the town of Díkowa, near which we were encamped, seemed well deserving some attention, as having been repeatedly the residence of the rulers of the country, and being still one of the largest towns in the kingdom. I therefore paid a visit to it in the afternoon of the second day of our stay, being accompanied by my friend Bíllama. We entered the town by the western gate; and I saw that the walls were about thirty feet high, and terraced on the inside like those of the capital, and of considerable breadth at the base: they were in a state of good repair. I was struck by the height and round shape of the huts, which entirely wanted the characteristic top, or, as the Kanúri people call it, kógi ngímbe, and were of the same kind as I had observed in the other towns of this southern province. Every hut had its little courtyard, in some of which vegetation was seen, mostly karás.

The further we proceeded, the more I was pleased with the general appearance of the town, the exterior of which had made a favourable impression upon me on our first arrival. Large, beautiful, wide-spreading fig-trees, ngábore, chédia or elastic gum-trees, and kórna-trees, spread their shade all around, and two or three isolated papaw-trees, or as the Kanúri call them, bambús-másarbe, with their remarkable feathery crowns and their smooth virgin-like stems, formed a lively contrast to the broad-leafed canopy of the other trees, while the hedges and fences of the courtyards were partly enlivened by a luxurious creeper called “dagdágel” by the natives. The real nucleus of the town seemed to consist entirely of clay houses.

After a very pleasant ride, we reached the house of the “maínta,” or governor, who still enjoys a certain degree of independence. The chief ornament of the place in front of his house was the most splendid caoutchouc-tree I have ever seen; indeed I can scarcely imagine that the diameter of its crown, which was so regularly and symmetrically shaped that it appeared as if effected by art, measured less than from seventy to eighty feet. It really formed a beautiful fáge, or, as the Háusa people call it, íchenbatú, or open council-hall, such as are common in these places; but at present no political business of any importance was transacted here, and it formed a favourite lounge for idle people, amongst whom there was a troop of musicians, playing lustily upon their instruments to console the petty chief for the loss of his former power, which had dwindled away to a mere shadow. I would gladly have paid him a visit; but, poor as I was at the time, and without a single article worthy of acceptance, I was rather glad that I was under no obligation to him. The interruption in the daily course of life of the inhabitants, by the presence of the army, was the more to be lamented, as it prevented me from becoming an eyewitness to the chief industry of the natives, which consists in weaving, and manufacturing into shirts, the cotton which they grow; for they are almost exclusively cotton-growers, and have very little corn. But, although they are able to produce a fine sort of texture, they are very badly off for dyeing, and in this respect are far outstripped by the inhabitants of Ujé and Mákari. Instead of the beating of shirts, which forms so pleasant a sound in many other industrial towns of Negroland, there was nothing to be heard but the sound which proceeded from the powder-mill, if I may be allowed to give this grand name to a yard in which eight slaves were employed in pounding powder in large wooden mortars; for this is the way in which powder is prepared in Negroland, and during my stay in Bagírmi every time I had my coffee pounded (as I did not possess a coffee-mill), I excited the suspicion that I was preparing powder. Of course the presence of the army was the reason why so little activity was to be seen at present, and the little market, or durríya, which is held in the afternoon, was very badly attended; but the size and populousness of the town made such an impression upon me, that I thought myself justified in rating the number of inhabitants at about twenty-five thousand.

Altogether I was so much pleased with the character of the place, that on expressing my satisfaction to one of the inhabitants who came to salute my companion, with the words, “Átema bílla ngílla” (“This is a fine town”), he replied, with conscious pride, “Áte bílla déka gení; áte bílla maíwa” (“This is not a country town; this is a royal residence”). We reached the gate on the north-west side of the town, just at the moment when ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, the eldest brother of the Sheikh ʿOmár, arrived with a party of horsemen. What his business was I do not know; but before the expedition left the town, there had been a great many unfavourable rumours concerning his ambitious designs, and the malcontents expected that he would avail himself of this opportunity for striking a blow at the vizier, in order to prevent the expedition from proceeding against Mándará, as he himself was supposed to be on friendly terms with the chief of that country. But whatever may have been his intentions, he found his rival still too strong; and, after a friendly parting from his brother, he retraced his steps.

The view over the encampment, which presented itself when from the north I turned to the south-west side of the town, was extremely interesting; and I kept along the higher ground formed by the rubbish which had accumulated at the foot of the wall. Tents of every description and size—light sheds constructed with the long stalks of Indian corn, supported by four poles, and connected lightly at the top and forming high-topped gables—horses and men, all in the greatest confusion, presented a busy scene of animated life; but the place where our tents were pitched had become so confined, that I was glad to avail myself of any opportunity which presented itself of roving about in the neighbourhood.

The most attractive place was the komádugu, or watercourse, which passes at some distance to the south of the town, and is distinguished by the special name of Yálowe. It was a very charming spot, winding along through a rich and varied forest, bordered by an uninterrupted line of the finest fig-trees, principally of the kind called “ngábore.” The channel itself was only about forty yards wide, encompassed by banks of from twelve to fifteen feet in height, and at present it was not enlivened by a continuous stream, but contained several detached pools of stagnant water. Although the water was cool, and not disagreeable to the taste, still it was not very pure, and could not but contain the germs of much disease. This is the same komádugu with which, in its upper course in the territory of Ujé, I had become acquainted on my journey to Ádamáwa. The banks all around were enlivened by horses and pack-oxen, who were enjoying the rich verdure; and there was not a shady tree but had been taken possession of by a troop of Kánembú or Kanúri, in order to find that comfortable repose which the noisy encampment could not afford.

Having heard that the wealth of the inhabitants of Díkowa consisted of cotton, I expected to find extensive well-kept cotton-plantations; but, although the article was cultivated to a great extent, I was astonished at the neglected appearance which it exhibited, the cotton-fields being almost buried beneath the thicket, and overgrown not only with rank grass, but even with trees and bushes, so that scarcely any space was left for the plants to spread out; nevertheless their luxuriant growth bore ample testimony to the rich nature of the soil, and gave an idea of the wealth that lies buried in these regions. I have already observed, on another occasion, that the natives of Negroland take very little care of their cotton-plantations; and there is no doubt that, if sufficient care was bestowed, quite a different quality might be produced.

I roved about in this wild and fertile region till I was entirely hemmed in by an impenetrable thicket. While returning hence to our encampment by a more westerly path, I was ruminating in my mind how the former rulers of this country had evinced so much more feeling for the bounty and beauty of nature than its present possessors; for, while these have chosen for their residence the most monotonous district of the empire, the former selected those parts which nature itself had embellished—the shores of the so-called Yeou, or the komádugu Wáube, and this fine watercourse of Díkowa; and they not only chose the most interesting spots, but they even embellished them by art, as the large artificial basins in the neighbourhood of Ghasréggomo, Ghámbarú, and Dámasak amply testify. In this respect it is not uninteresting that we are informed by the Imám Áhmed, the historian of the King Edrís Alawóma, that his master, when he visited the town of Fíka, could not forego the pleasure of paying a visit to the famous little alpine lake which lies at some distance from that town. Although the country of Bórnu is far from being the most favoured part of Negroland, yet the shores of these watercourses are very rich indeed, and capable of maintaining a numerous population.

In returning to our encampment, I passed the market, or durríya, which was held every afternoon on the west side of the encampment. It was really a busy scene, not yielding in importance to the little daily market of the capital; and this was not at all marvellous, as a greater crowd of people, and a far greater number of horses, were gathered here than the average population of Kúkawa. Not only were provisions, such as meat, grain, beans, ground-nuts, and other articles of a like description, offered for sale, but even small luxuries; and there was a good deal of bartering, as the buyers were destitute of currency—kúngona, or cowries, as well as gábagá, or cotton strips. I also observed that the encampment, especially on this side, where it was skirted by a thick covert of trees, was encircled by a living wall of light Kánembú spearmen, who were keeping watch; for although the army was still in its own territory, yet, in the weak state of the government, a certain degree of insecurity already commences here; and the very first evening of our being encamped on this spot, the ngáufate was roused by the gangéma, or announcement by beat of drum, to the effect that everybody should be on his guard against horse-stealers.

While the country around presented interesting features, and the encampment itself exhibited a scene of great variety, the time we spent here passed away comfortably and agreeably, with the sole exception that the space allotted to us was too confined to be comfortable. We were on the most friendly terms with the sheikh as well as with his vizier; and all court etiquette was dispensed with. This went so far that I and my companion accommodated our noble and princely friends with our woollen jackets and drawers; for they began to feel the cold at night very severely, and on these occasions the very respectable Háj Edrís had to play the part of a royal laundress.

Already, during our hibernal stay in the country of Aír, we had been obliged to accommodate our old and austere friend Ánnur and his numerous relatives with our Turkish waistcoats: but we had not yet condescended to give away our under-clothing; and being ourselves extremely poor and destitute in every respect, it was certainly not a little privation we imposed upon ourselves. The clothes of the sheikh and his vizier were all very wide, and not fit for keeping out the cold. I have repeatedly had occasion to mention how sensitive the Africans are to cold; and I am persuaded that, in the burning regions of Central Africa, a good cargo of warm under-clothing would find a ready sale, especially if it should arrive in the months of December and January. But neither did our noble hosts, on their part, fail to do everything in their power to render our situation as comfortable as possible; and it was very satisfactory to see how anxious the vizier was to supply us with all desirable information.

One evening, at a late hour, when I was reposing in my tent and about to go to bed, he sent for me in the greatest hurry, as if my life or death were at stake; and upon hastening thither, anxious to hear what was the matter, I was told that the vizier had been informed of a person being in the encampment who, like my old friend the mʿallem Katúri, had accompanied the memorable expedition of Ámba Sámbo, the warlike chief of Chámba, towards the country of Ígbo on the sea-coast. But while the latter had gone to Mbáfu with the main body of the army, the adventurous proceedings of that person had not even been limited by the boundaries of the sea; and he informed me, in the most positive and conclusive manner, that the body of troops which he accompanied had sailed along a rocky coast for fifteen days, when they unexpectedly met with an island, where they took possession of a number of muskets; their owners, who were all dressed in jackets, having taken refuge in their large vessel.

He did not doubt that these people were Christians, and according to the description which he gave me of the vessel, there can scarcely be any doubt that it was a European one; but I did not feel quite certain as to the point whether he had navigated a large river, or the open sea, though I think it probable they went down the Niger, and surprised one of the European traders at the mouth of the river. At any rate, however, this is an extremely interesting circumstance. I apprehend that the chiefs of Ádamáwa will hesitate in future to extend their expeditions so far, after an English steamer has gone up the river to the very heart of their own country. It was this same Bórnu horseman who informed me that, on that expedition, all the horses had died from a disease proceeding from worms.

While chatting together upon these subjects till after midnight, I had an opportunity of giving the vizier some little information regarding the peculiar character of the maritime power of the Imám of Maskat, of which he had never heard before, and which interested him exceedingly. With the Arabs of Timbúktu, also, this subject formed a topic of the highest interest, as they had no idea that there were people of the same faith living on the eastern shores of this continent; and they delighted in the thought, that even in those regions there were Moslems, who were not quite destitute of political power. For, although the famous traveller Ebn Batúta has given to his countrymen an account of these regions, it was only in Sókoto that I met with a man, the learned Káderi dan Táffa, who knew Sofála by name.

My friend Bíllama also frequently called on me, and furnished me with a variety of information, while I applied myself strenuously to the study of the Kanúri language, which had discouraged me at first, owing to the difficulties of its grammatical structure: and I could scarcely have had a better teacher than our friend Háj Edrís; for, being of Kanúri origin, he had lived a great many years in the east, especially in Medína, and had become almost an Arab. He was certainly an intelligent and honest man; and in the course of our stay we became indebted to him in many respects. Of course we could not expect him to render his service gratuitously, as he himself was not in affluent circumstances, though as a courtier he had to keep up a good appearance; but being myself very poor at the time, I could do nothing but place him upon a needle-pension, the needles being very useful in the encampment for buying provisions.

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Friday, Dec. 26.—At length we went onward to pursue our march, turning considerably out of our road towards the east, in order to avoid the residence of Ádishén, and to prevent its being pillaged. The army, proceeding in several large detachments, presented an interesting aspect. Here also green crops of the winter corn, or “másakwá,” were still standing in the fields. Further on we came to open pasture-grounds, and after a march of about ten miles we reached a village called Bógo, where we encamped. All the inhabitants had made their escape, although their chief, whose name is Bakshámi, was an ally and friend of Ádishén. The cottages were well built, but there was a great scarcity of trees. Amongst the furniture was a fishing-basket, or, as the Kanúri call it, “káyan”; and some of them were filled with dry paste of the red species of holcus, which however the people were afraid to touch, lest it might be poisoned. On a former expedition several people had been poisoned by a pot of honey which had been left behind, on purpose, by the natives in their flight. Already on this day’s march we had observed, in the distance towards the west, an isolated rocky mount; and here we saw it in more distinct outlines, while beyond, at a greater distance, the continuous mountain chain of Mándará became slightly visible.

Saturday Dec. 27.—Our march at first led through a dense forest, after which we emerged upon more open swampy meadow-lands covered with rank grass, and full of holes caused by the footprints of the elephant. Great quantities of Guinea-fowl were caught. Only here and there an isolated mimosa interrupted the unbroken line of the savanna. It was after a march of six miles that we obtained a sight of the first deléb-palm in the Músgu country. Already repeatedly in the narrative of my travels I have called the attention of the reader to this beautiful fan-palm; but in all the localities where I had before observed it, it was rather isolated. Even in Ádamáwa it is limited to peculiarly favoured localities, while in some extensive provinces of that country, such as Búban-jídda, it is wanting entirely. But here we had reached the country where this beautiful and useful tree, probably only a variety of the famous Borassus flabelliformis, is the most common and predominant representative of the vegetable kingdom. The Músgu call it in their language “úray.” From the Músgu country it seems to spread in an almost uninterrupted and unbroken line through the southern provinces of Bagírmi and Wadáy, as far as Kordofán, sending a few scouts and forerunners to adorn the capital of Bagírmi and the watercourse of the Bat-há.

We chose our encampment in a village called Bárea, consisting of scattered huts, and surrounded by rich stubble-fields, which were shaded by large wide-spreading karáge trees, presenting a most cheerful and comfortable scene. But we soon became aware that the fertility and beauty of this district were due to the neighbourhood of a large sheet of water full of crocodiles and river horses or “ngurútu,” and enlivened even by a few small canoes. It had been indicated already on our march by the flight of numerous waterfowl passing over our heads. Beautiful as the country was, however, the place was deserted, the inhabitants having given up their cheerful homes, and left the tombs of their worshipped ancestors to the discretion of the hostile army, in order to seek safety in flight. The village is the residence of a chieftain of the name of Musíkko, who acknowledges Kábishmé, the chief mentioned above, as his sovereign lord.

In the afternoon I received a short visit from a rather shabby sort of man, the chief of a place called Médebé, but who was an object of interest to me, as he had been sent as a messenger to the prince of Mándará, and had just arrived in the encampment from the capital of that little country. Travelling at a comfortable rate, he had arrived in three days from Morá, sleeping the first night in the place called Mókoshi, the second in Fétte, the place above-mentioned, and from thence to-day had reached this place; but the whole journey, in an expeditious march, may easily be accomplished in two days. Difficult as it would be to me to impart to the reader the delight which I always felt in tracing my routes from one point to another, and joining two places with which I had become acquainted, by new itineraries he may forgive me for sometimes troubling him with these geographical details.

Sunday, Dec. 28.—We did not spend our Sunday in a quiet contemplative manner; but nevertheless we spent it worthily, employing it in a good day’s march, which opened out to us new and important features of the character of the new region we had just entered. It was a pity we were not allowed by circumstances to proceed in our real character of peaceful travellers, anxious to befriend all the people with whom we came in contact, instead of being obliged to join this host of merciless and sanguinary slave-hunters, who, regardless of the beauty of the country and the cheerful happiness of the natives, were only intent upon enriching themselves with the spoil of the inhabitants. After a march of a little less than five miles, we emerged from the thick forest, and entered upon stubble-fields with numerous groups of huts and wide-spreading trees, whose branches were all used for storing up the ranks of nutritious grass of these swampy grounds, for a supply in the dry season. The country was pleasant in the extreme. Several artificial ponds enlivened the hamlet, and called to mind similar scenes in my native country, except that ducks and geese were wanting. The only scenes of active life which were at present to be seen were those of pillage and destruction.

The architecture of the huts, and the whole arrangement of the yards, was very similar to that of the village we had first seen on entering the country. But the tops of the granaries in general were here provided with a sort of “fennel,” covered in by a roof of straw. Broad well-trodden paths, lined by thick fences of a peculiar bush called “mágara” in Kanúri, which I have mentioned in another locality, were winding along through the fields in every direction. But there was one object which attracted my attention in particular, as it testified to a certain degree of civilization, which might have shamed the proud Mohammedan inhabitants of these countries. For while the latter are extremely negligent in burying their dead, leaving them without any sufficient protection against the wild beasts, so that most of them are devoured in a few days by the hyænas, here we had regular sepulchres, covered in with large well-rounded vaults, the tops of which were adorned by a couple of beams cross-laid, or by an earthen urn. The same sort of worship as paid by these pagans to their ancestors prevails in a great part of Africa, and however greatly the peculiar customs attached to the mode of worship may vary, the principle is the same; but I nowhere more regretted having no one at hand to explain to me the customs of these people, than I did on this occasion. The urn most probably contains the head of the deceased; but what is indicated by the cross-laid beams I cannot say.

I was so absorbed in contemplating this interesting scene, that I entirely forgot my own personal safety; for the vizier, without my becoming aware of it, had pursued the track on his powerful charger at an uncommonly quick rate, and was far in advance. Looking around me, I found only a small number of Shúwa horsemen near me, and keeping close to them pursued the path; but when we emerged from the thick forest, and entered another well-cultivated and thickly-peopled district, every trace of a trodden footpath ceased, and I became aware that I was entirely cut off from the main body of the army. A scene of wild disorder here presented itself. Single horsemen were roving about to and fro between the fences of the villages; here a poor native, pursued by sanguinary foes, running for his life in wild despair; there another dragged from his place of refuge; while a third was observed in the thick covert of a ficus, and soon became a mark for numerous arrows and balls. A small troop of Shúwa horsemen were collected under the shade of a tree, trying to keep together a drove of cattle, which they had taken. In vain did I address Shúwa and Kanúri, anxiously inquiring what direction the commander-in-chief had taken; nobody was able to give me any information with regard to his whereabouts. I therefore scoured the village in all directions, to see if I could find by myself the track of the army; but the traces ran in every direction.

Here I fell in with several troops of horsemen, in the same state of uncertainty as myself, and joined one of them, where there were some heavy cavalry; neither the attendants of the vizier, nor the man who carried his carpet, could tell which direction he had taken. While anxiously looking about, I suddenly heard behind us the beating of a drum or “gánga,” and following the sound found a considerable number of horsemen, of every description, collected on an open area; and here I received the exciting news that the pagans had broken through the line of march at the weakest point, and that while the vizier had pursued his track, the rear had been dispersed. If these poor pagans, who certainly are not wanting in courage, were led on by experienced chieftains, and waited for the proper opportunity, they would be able, in these dense forests, where cavalry is scarcely of any use, to do an immense deal of damage to this cowardly host, and might easily disperse them altogether. But the principal reason of the weakness of these Músgu tribes is, that they have only spears and the “góliyó,” and no arrows; else they would certainly be able to keep these troublesome neighbours at a respectful distance. Of what little use even the firelock is to the latter, I had ample opportunity of judging, several musketeers having come to me anxiously entreating me to provide them with flints, as their own had been lost or had proved useless.

At length the motley host moved on without order or array; but their irresolution and fear, owing to a few pagans who were concealed in a thicket, were so great, that after a while we retraced our steps. Having then taken a more easterly direction, we reached, through a thick forest, a large swampy piece of water in low meadow-grounds, not less than a mile in breadth, covered with rank grass, the dry ground in some places intervening. Here I found a considerable part of the cavalry, drawn up in a line and watering their horses, and I learned that the encampment was near. It would have been very unsatisfactory to be exposed to a serious attack in the company of the disorderly host in which I had lately found myself.

Having watered my horse, I followed the deep sound of the big drum of the vizier, and found the body of the army a few hundred yards from the eastern border of this ngáljam, in rich stubble-fields shaded by beautiful trees; but as yet no tent was pitched, and a great deal of anxiety prevailed, the first camels having arrived without their loads, which they had thrown off, their drivers having taken to flight; but this circumstance ensured the safety of the greater part of the train, as the commander immediately despatched two officers with their squadrons to bring up the rear. To this circumstance we were indebted for the safety of our own camels, which had been in imminent danger, the pagans having collected again in the rear of the principal body of the army. The Bórnu camels are half mehára, and, while they surpass in strength the camels of the desert, possess a great deal of their swiftness. Not only does the camel which carries the war-drum always follow close behind the commander, at whatever rate he may pursue his march, but even his other camels generally keep at a very short distance, and the best camels of the courtiers follow close behind.

The village we had just reached was named Kákalá, and is one of the most considerable places in the Músgu country. A large number of slaves had been caught this day; and in the course of the evening, after some skirmishing, in which three Bórnu horsemen were killed, a great many more were brought in: altogether they were said to have taken one thousand, and there were certainly not less than five hundred. To our utmost horror, not less than one hundred and seventy full-grown men were mercilessly slaughtered in cold blood, the greater part of them being allowed to bleed to death, a leg having been severed from the body. Most of them were tall men, with not very pleasing features. Their forehead, instead of shelving backwards, was generally very high, and the line of the face straight; but their thick eyelashes, wide, open nostrils, thick lips, high cheek-bones, and coarse bushy hair, gave them a very wild appearance. The proportions of the legs, with the knee-bone bent inward, were particularly ugly; and on the whole they were more bony than the Marghí. They were all of a dirty black colour, very far from that glossy lustre which is observed in other tribes. Most of them wore a short beard. The ears of several were adorned with small copper rings, while almost all of them wore round their necks a thick rope made of the dúm-bush or ngílle, coarsely twisted, as a sort of ornament.

Monday, Dec. 29.—Soon after setting out from the place of encampment, we had to cross the ngáljam, which here also was thickly overgrown with rank grass, and the passage of which was very difficult, owing to the countless holes caused by the footprints of the elephant. We then entered a dense forest, where I saw again, for the first time, my old Háusa acquaintance, the kókia, a middle-sized tree with large leaves and with a fruit of the size of an apple, which at present was green, but even when ripe is not edible. This tree, in the course of the expedition, I found to be very common in the wilds of this country.

The unwarlike spirit of our large army became more apparent than ever by to-day’s proceedings: for a vigorous commander would certainly have accelerated his march through this forest, in order to take the enemy unawares; but long before noon a halt was ordered in the midst of the forest—certainly against the inclination of the majority. There was a great deal of indecision; and in truth there seemed to be many who wished rather that the enemy should have time to escape, than to incite him to make a desperate struggle for his safety. The neighbouring pond (where, on our arrival, a herdsman who had come to water his cattle had been slain), we were told, did not contain a sufficient supply of water for the wants of the whole army; and when at length we had fairly dismounted, the rank grass being burnt down in order to clear the ground, and the fire being fed by a strong wind, a terrible conflagration ensued, which threw us into the greatest confusion, and obliged us to seek our safety in a hasty retreat. Nevertheless, after a great deal of hesitation, it was at length determined to encamp here. There was no scarcity of water—for the pond proved to be very spacious and of great depth; but the grass having been burned, the whole ground was covered with a layer of hot ashes, which blackened everything.

By-and-by the camels arrived, the encampment was formed, and every one had given himself up to repose of mind and body, when suddenly the alarm-drums were beaten, and everybody hastened to arms, and mounted his horse. It seemed incredible that an enemy whose movements were uncombined, and not directed by any good leaders, should attack such an army, of more than ten thousand cavalry, and a still greater number of foot, although I am persuaded that a resolute attack of a few hundred brave men would have defeated the whole of this vain and cowardly host. The alarm, as was to be expected, proved unfounded; but it showed the small degree of confidence which the people had in their own strength. Three pagan women had been seen endeavouring to reach the water by stealth; and this gave rise to the conclusion that the enemy was near, for the dense forest all around hemmed in the view entirely.

When at length the encampment had resumed its former state of tranquillity, the prince Ádishén, with a numerous suite of naked followers, came to my tent, and I requested him to enter; there was, however, nothing attractive or interesting about him, and I was glad to get rid of him with a few presents. The difference between the Marghí and Músgu, notwithstanding the affinity indicated by their language and some of their manners, is indeed great, and is, as I have already intimated above, rather to the disadvantage of the latter, whose forms exhibit less of symmetry, and whose features have a very wild and savage appearance. Neither in these Músgu courtiers, nor in the common people, had I observed any of those becoming ornaments, especially those iron arm-rings, which I have mentioned in describing the Marghí.

Ádishén had shaved his head, in order to give to himself the appearance of a Moslim, and wore a tobe; but of his companions, only one had adopted this foreign garment, all the others having their loins girt with a leather apron. In order to keep themselves on horseback, they have recourse to a most barbarous expedient. They make a broad open wound on the back of their small sturdy ponies, in order to keep their seat; and, when they want to ride at full speed, they often scratch or cut their legs, in order to glue themselves to the horse’s flanks by means of the blood which oozes from the wounds; for, as I have stated above, they have neither saddle, stirrups, nor bridle, and they use nothing but a simple rope to guide their animals. They generally carry only one spear, but several “góliyós” or handbills, the latter being evidently their best weapon, not only in close fight, but even at a distance, as they are very expert in throwing this sharp and double-pointed iron sideways, and frequently inflict severe wounds on the legs of horses as well as of men. Some of their chiefs protect their persons with a strong doublet made of buffalo’s hide, with the hair inside.

Tuesday, Dec. 30.—This was the last day’s march which our expedition was to make towards the south, or rather south-east. For the first ten or eleven miles we kept through dense forest, the thick covert of which rendered it difficult for us to make our way, while the restless and vicious Bórnu horses, crowded together and hemmed in by the thicket, repeatedly came into most unpleasant collision; and here again I was much indebted to my massive stirrups, which bravely kept their ground against bush and man. The whole forest consisted of middle-sized trees, the kókia being predominant, while scarcely a single tree of larger size was to be seen. It seemed very natural that all the wild animals should flee before such a host of people; but I was astonished at the scarcity of ant-hills, notwithstanding the great degree of moisture which prevails in these extensive levels, and which is so favourable to the existence of this insect. Our march the whole morning had been straight for Dáwa, the village of the Túfuri or Túburi, a section of the great tribe of the Farí or Falí, of which I have spoken in a former part of my narrative.

There had been a great deal of discussion in the last day’s council as to the expediency of attacking this place, the subjection, or rather destruction of which was of great importance, not only to Mʿallem Jýmma, but even to the Fúlbe settled in the eastern districts of Ádamáwa in general. This party at last had gained the upper hand over the greater part of the cowardly Kanúri courtiers; but at present, when we approached the seat of this tribe, who are well known to be warlike, and when the question arose whether we should engage in battle with these people in three or four hours’ time, it became rather a serious affair. When, therefore, after a march of four hours, we reached a beautiful fresh meadow-water or “ngáljam” overgrown with rank grass, surrounded by large spreading ngábbore trees, which pleasantly diversified the monotonous forest, we made a halt, and while the horsemen watered their animals, an animated “nógona,” or council, was held in the shade of a beautiful fig-tree. Here it was decided that, at least to-day, we should not march against Dáwa and the Túburi, but were to change our course more to the eastward in the direction of Démmo. It is probable that the vizier on this occasion promised to his friends, that after he had taken up his headquarters at Démmo, and deposited safely, in the fortified encampment, the spoil that he had already made in slaves and cattle, he would march against Dáwa; but unfortunately, or rather luckily for the inhabitants, it was not our destiny to visit that interesting and important place, as I shall soon have occasion to mention.

During our halt here I contemplated, with the most lively and intense interest, the rich and animated scene which presented itself before my eyes,—a mass of some thousand horsemen, dressed in the most varied manner and in the most glowing colours, with their spirited chargers of every size, description, and colour, crowded together along the green margin of a narrow sheet of water, skirted by a dense border of large trees of the finest foliage.

After a halt of about a quarter of an hour we were again in the saddle, and pursued our march, but now in an entirely different direction, keeping almost due east, and crossing the shallow watercourse, which stretched from north to south a little below our halting-place, the place where we crossed it being quite dry, and full of holes caused by the footsteps of the elephant. The wilderness for a while was clearer; but after a march of about two miles we reached a very thick covert, where it was found necessary to send out scouts, in order to see if the enemy was lying in ambush. It is a great pity that these poor natives do not know how to avail themselves, against their cruel and cowardly enemies, of the fastnesses with which nature has endowed these regions. Of course these immense forests, which separate one principality, and I might say one village, from another, are themselves a consequence of the want of intelligence and of the barbarous blindness of these pagan tribes, who, destitute of any common bond of national unity, live entirely separated from, and even carry on war against each other.

Scarcely had we made ourselves a path through the thicket, when we reached another meadow-water, which at present, however, looked rather like a bog, and offered some difficulties to the passage of the horses. Having then for some time kept upon dry ground, about noon we had to cross another swamp; but beyond this the country became open. Having now reached the place of our destination, the banners were unfolded, the drums beaten, and the greater part of the cavalry hurried on in advance ready for fighting, or rather for pillage, for no enemy was to be seen. Immediately afterwards we reached the village of Démmo, and marched slowly along, looking out for the best place for encamping. Numerous deléb-palms became visible behind the shady acacias, when suddenly we obtained sight of a broad shallow watercourse, larger than any we had yet seen in this country—more than two miles in width, with a considerable sheet of open water, where two pagan canoes were seen moving about.

Greatly interested in the scene, we closely approached the edge of the water, which seemed to be of considerable depth, although a number of hungry Kánembú had passed the first open sheet, and were fishing in its more shallow part, which divided the open water into two branches. From beyond the opposite shore a whole forest of deléb-palms were towering over the other vegetation of lower growth, as if enticing us to come and enjoy their picturesque shade. The direction of the watercourse at this spot was from south-west to north-east; and, according to the unanimous statement of those who had any knowledge of these regions, it joins the Serbéwuel, that is to say the upper course of the river or “éré” of Logón.

Here we stood awhile, and looked with longing eyes towards the opposite shore; it was a most interesting and peculiar scenery, highly characteristic of these level equatorial regions of Africa. What an erroneous idea had been entertained of these regions in former times! Instead of the massive Mountain range of the Moon, we had discovered only a few isolated mounts; instead of a dry desolate plateau, we had found wide and extremely fertile plains, less than one thousand feet above the level of the sea, and intersected by innumerable broad watercourses with scarcely any inclination. Only towards the south-west, at the distance of about sixteen miles, the low rocky mount of the Túburi was seen.

But not less interesting than the scenery of the landscape was the aspect of the host of our companions, who were here crowded together at the border of the water. Only very few of them had penetrated as far before; and they looked with curiosity and astonishment upon this landscape, while most of them were rather disappointed that the water prevented them from pursuing the poor pagans, the full-grown amongst whom, with few exceptions, had just had time to escape. But a considerable number of female slaves and young children were captured; for the men did not take to flight till they became aware, from the thick clouds of dust which were raised by the army, that it was not one of the small expeditions which they were accustomed to resist, that was coming to attack them. Besides the spoil in human beings, a considerable number of colts and cattle were brought in.

Having indulged in the aspect of this rich scene, which formed such a contrast to the monotonous neighbourhood of Kúkawa, we retraced our steps, in order to encamp at some distance from the water, which of course gives life to millions of mosquitoes, and encamped amongst the smouldering ruins of the huts. The whole village, which only a few moments before had been the abode of comfort and happiness, was destroyed by fire and made desolate. Slaughtered men, with their limbs severed from their bodies, were lying about in all directions, and made the passer-by shudder with horror. Such is the course of human affairs in these regions! Small troops of light cavalry tried to pursue the enemy; and there was some fighting in the course of the afternoon, when a few men of the Bórnu army were killed.

Wednesday, Dec. 31.—We remained here this and the following day, it being the intention of the Bórnu people, according to their own statement, to reduce this country to subjection; and I deeply regretted that the circumstances under which we visited this region did not allow me to collect all the information I wished. But roving about the encampment, I endeavoured to pick up what I could. All the huts had clay walls, which were from four to six inches thick, and had resisted the conflagration, the roofs, consisting of beams and reed, having fallen in. The diameter of the huts varied from eight to twelve feet. Each hut contained a large jar for holding water, and some had a peculiar fireplace, enclosed by separate walls, and not unlike an oven; but, although in general the arrangements of the huts was comfortable, I found the dwellings in other villages of this country far superior, nor did I observe here such large courtyards as I had seen elsewhere. In the centre of the village there were some extensive tanks, or pools of water, which seemed to be made by the hand of man. The whole encampment, or “ngáufate,” was surrounded with a strong fence of thorny bushes, rather for the purpose of preventing the slaves from escaping, than to defend the encampment against an enemy. Having wandered about amidst this scene of destruction, I went in the afternoon to the border of the “ngáljam,” which was enlivened by horses and cattle grazing, and people quietly reclining here and there, or bathing in the water. I then wandered along the bank to some distance, where the sheet of open water on this side was entirely interrupted, while on the other shore a considerable strip of water stretched out before the view.

Here, in Démmo, the year 1852 opened to me, in the course of which I at that time entertained a hope of returning homewards, not fancying that I was to remain three years more in these barbarous countries, amidst constantly varying impressions of discovery, of disappointment, of friendly and hostile treatment, and under all sorts of affliction, distress, and sickness. Our stay here was varied by a few interesting incidents, one of which I will relate. The intriguing Shúwa chief Mʿallem Jýmma, whose ambitious designs did not allow him any rest, had not only persuaded the head man of Démmo, who had made his escape, but even the chief of the nearest village on the other side of the ngáljam, to make his subjection publicly, and to seek the protection of Bórnu. They were therefore introduced this day into the nógona or council, and threw dust upon their heads. But when they had to confirm their subjection by an oath, the pagan prince of Démmo indeed took an oath, raising a handful of earth, and allowing it to glide through his fingers, but the chief from the other side of the ngáljam refused to take the oath, under the pretext that this earth was not fit for his vow, not being his own soil; he said he must first bring a handful of earth from his own country. An oath taken upon earth that belonged to their native soil was also common among the ancients.

Both chiefs had made their appearance in their native attire, that is to say, quite naked with the exception of a narrow leather strip round their loins; and it caused great merriment to the courtiers, that when, in consequence of their subjection, they were officially dressed in black tobes as a sort of investiture, the chief of Démmo drew his shirt over his head, reckless whether the lower parts were covered or not. In order to amuse the assemblage, they also blew their little horn, an instrument which every Músgu grandee carries with him, and which bears a great resemblance to a bugle; but in this accomplishment a priest who accompanied them was more clever than themselves, producing melodious and sonorous sounds from this simple and uncouth instrument.

This was the first and only time that I became aware that these pagan tribes had separate priests; and I felt greatly disappointed that I did not come into closer contact with them, nor was able to learn from other people what were their peculiar duties. But, in general, I think I am not mistaken in supposing that the sacerdotal functions with these tribes of the interior are less developed than those on the coast, for as yet I had seen very little of real fetishism. In general, the office of priest seems to be connected with that of chief. This man also received a shirt as a present; but it was only a white one of inferior quality, and I do not think he kept it very long after he had left the assemblage of these civilized people. As the price of the benevolent reception which the prince of Démmo had experienced, he, as is generally the case in these distracted communities, betrayed the interests of his countrymen, promising that he would lead the army to a large walled town (so, at least, he was understood to say), where they were to find plenty of booty and spoil. Accordingly, an expedition on a large scale, which was to be led by the vizier in person, was fixed for the next day.

Friday, Jan. 2.—Having remained quiet for some hours in the morning, probably to make the neighbouring chieftains believe that we had no intention of moving, we suddenly set out, with almost the whole of the cavalry and a portion of the Kánembú spearmen, led on by our new ally the chief of Démmo, who, mounted on a little pony, clad in his new black garment, presented a very awkward and ridiculous appearance.

The first village which we reached, after about an hour’s march through a clear forest, was quite deserted; and it was but natural that all the people around should be upon their guard. The landscape was exceedingly beautiful, richly irrigated and finely wooded, while, to our great astonishment, the ground was so carefully cultivated that even manure had been put upon the fields in a regular manner, being spread over the ground to a great extent—the first example of such careful tillage that I had as yet observed in Central Africa, both among Mohammedans and pagans. The inhabitants had had so much leisure to make their escape, that they had left very little behind to satisfy the greediness of the enemy; and we therefore continued our march without delay, in a north-easterly direction. This whole fertile district bears the name of Wúliya; but I did not learn the peculiar name of this village.

After a march of about four miles, we crossed another watercourse, at present only from ten to fifteen inches deep, and surrounded by beautiful pasture-grounds, which during part of the year are inundated, and must then present the appearance of an extensive lake. This fresh green basin was adorned all around by luxuriant fig and “karáge”-trees, and slender detached dúm-palms towered picturesquely above the green foliage, but no deléb-palms were to be seen. Then followed another village, likewise deserted by its unfortunate inhabitants, and then again open meadow-lands, intersected by a narrow channel-like watercourse, in a direction from south-west to north-east.

The watercourse was from sixty to seventy yards broad, and enclosed so regularly between its banks, which were about ten feet high, that it had quite the appearance of an artificial canal,—a peculiarity which in the course of time I frequently observed, not only here, but also in the similar watercourses along the Niger. At the point where we crossed it, the sheet of water was entirely broken by a small sandbank, so that we went over without wetting our feet. However, I conjectured that this was an artificial dyke thrown up by the persecuted natives, in order to keep open an easy connection with the river, on which alone their safety depended. Without any delay the expedition pushed on, in the hope of overtaking the fugitives before they had crossed the river; for here we were quite close to the western shore of the river of Logón, which is generally, but erroneously, called Shári, while this name, which belongs to the language of the Kótoko, and means “river” in general, applies more properly to the larger eastern branch below Klésem, which is inhabited by Kótoko, and to the united stream lower down below the junction of the two branches. In this place the river, or “éré,” is called Serbéwuel, I think, in the Músgu language; higher up, where we shall make its acquaintance in the course of our further researches, it is called Bá-Gun and Bá-Bay, “bá” being the general name for river in the language of Bagírmi and the native tribes of the Sóm-ray, as well as in the language of the Manding or Mandingoes.

After a short time we stood on the banks of the stream. It was a considerable river even at the present moment, although it was greatly below its highest level, and probably represented the mean depth of the whole year. At present it was about four hundred yards wide, and so deep that six Shúwa horsemen, who, in their eager desire for spoil, had ventured to enter it, were carried away by the stream, and fell an easy prey to about a dozen courageous pagans, who, in a couple of canoes, were gliding up and down the river to see what they could lay their hands upon. They felt that we were unable to follow them without canoes, although for any active body of men it would have been an easy affair to construct a few rafts for crossing over, there being a plentiful supply of timber.

The banks of the river on this side were at present about twenty-five feet high. The opposite shore was not so steep, and from its rich vegetation had a very inviting appearance; but I was glad, for the sake of the poor natives, that we were unable to reach it, and I think even our friend the Háj Beshír looked at this interesting landscape rather with a degree of scientific interest than with anger and disappointment. Unfortunately, on this occasion I had not taken my telescope with me, but I was so fortunate as still to get a sight of this river a little lower down. Having stood here for a few minutes on the steep bank, looking down into the stream, which rolled unceasingly along, cutting off our further progress, we turned our horses’ heads in the direction from which we had come, while our friends endeavoured to soothe their disappointment by saying, that if the pagans had escaped from their hands, they would certainly not fail to fall into the power of their enemies, viz. the pagans who lived on the other side of the river under the protection of Bagírmi.

We thus turned our backs upon the river, my European companion and I greatly satisfied with our day’s work, which had afforded us a sight of this fine stream, but our companions, in sullen silence and disappointed, on account of the expected spoil having escaped from their hands. Indeed, where they had expected to find that “El Dorado,” that walled town full of male and female slaves, I never succeeded in ascertaining. The whole day’s spoil was limited to a handful of slaves—unfortunate creatures whom sickness or ill-advised courage prevented from leaving their native villages,—besides a couple of cattle, a few goats, fowls, and a little corn, but principally ground-nuts, of which large quantities were carried off by the hungry Kánembú spearmen.

The whole army was in such a mood as to be glad to find any object on which to vent its anger; and such a one soon presented itself, for when we again reached that channel-like watercourse which I have mentioned above, and were watering our horses, four natives were seen, who, evidently confiding in their courage and their skill in swimming, had here taken refuge in the deepest part of the water, in order to give information to their countrymen of the retreat of the enemy. As soon as our friends caught sight of this little troop of heroes, they determined to sacrifice them to their vengeance. With this view, the whole of the cavalry arranged themselves in close lines on each side of the water. But the task was not so easy as it appeared at first; and all the firing of the bad marksmen was in vain, the Músgu diving with remarkable agility. When the vizier saw that in this way these heroes could not be overpowered, he ordered some Kánembú to enter the water; and a very singular kind of combat arose, the like of which I had never seen before, and which required an immense deal of energy, for, while these people had to sustain themselves above the water with the help of their feet, they had at the same time to jump up, throw the spear, and parry the thrusts of their adversaries. The poor Músgu people, on their side, were not only fighting for their lives, but even, as it were, for their national honour. They were of large and muscular frame, single-handed far superior to the Kánembú; but at length, after a protracted struggle, the superior numbers of the Kánembú got the upper hand, and the corpses of three of the Músgu were seen swimming on the surface of the water. But the fourth and last appeared to be invincible, and the Kánembú, who had lost two of their companions, gave him up in despair. After this inglorious victory we pursued our march homewards, keeping a little more to the north than when we came. This part of the country exhibited the same fertile and pleasant character as that we had seen before. It was densely inhabited and well cultivated, even tobacco being grown to a great extent. As for the villages themselves, they afforded the same appearance of comfort and cheerfulness which we had observed in the others. But all these abodes of human happiness were destroyed by fire.

After having accomplished these great deeds, we returned to our encampment. Here we remained during the two following days, while the most important business was transacted. This was the partition of the slaves who had been taken during the expedition; and the proceeding was accompanied by the most heartrending scenes, caused by the number of young children, and even infants, who were to be distributed, many of these poor creatures being mercilessly torn away from their mothers, never to see them again. There were scarcely any full-grown men.

More interesting to me than this horrible affair was the sending of a messenger to Kúkawa; and it was doubly so on account of the roundabout way which this man had to pursue, the track by which we had come being at present greatly infested by the desperate pagans, who very recently had massacred a whole troop of horse and foot who had come from Kúkawa, with the exception of one, who had succeeded in making his escape. The messengers, therefore, who were now sent, were obliged to take the road leading past the villages of the Fúlbe, going from Démmo to Káfta, which I have previously mentioned, and from thence to Bógo, whence they were to follow the general track, which I have described on a former occasion. An escort of fifteen Kanúri and two Fúlbe accompanied the two messengers, as their first day’s march was very dangerous.

For the last few days there had been a great talk of an expedition, on a large scale, against the Túburi, whither it was said we were to transfer the whole encampment; and I and my companion already anticipated a great deal of delight, as the isolated rocky mount which we had seen on the day of our arrival seemed to be well worthy of notice. But, as I have already stated, the Bórnu people were greatly afraid of this place, the real reason probably being, that they apprehended the pagans might retire upon the top of the mountain, and, having abundance of water in the neighbourhood, offer a successful resistance, although we were told that, on a former occasion, a single kashélla, ʿAlí Fugomámi, had extended his expedition as far as that place.

The Fúlbe, by whom this free pagan community was regarded with great hatred, urged the expedition with the greatest energy; but the cunning vizier pretended afterwards, in a conversation which he had with Overweg and me, that it was purposely, from motives of policy, that he did not accede to this scheme, as he did not want to exterminate this tribe, being unwilling to pull down with his own hands this last barrier to the restless spirit of conquest which the Fúlbe or Fellatá displayed. The usurper ʿAbd eʾ Rahmán, evidently from a motive of ambition, in order to be enabled to say that he had penetrated further than his late rival the vizier, whom he had successfully crushed, in the beginning of the rainy season of 1854 pushed on into the very country of the Túburi, and thus enabled Dr. Vogel to lay down that most interesting point by astronomical observation, although the great lake which my friend thought to find there was apparently nothing but a widening of that stagnant watercourse which forms the north-eastern branch of the Bénuwé, namely the Máyo Kébbi, and was laid down by me in the map of Central Africa, which I sent home from Kúkawa.

Monday, Jan. 5.—It was at a very early hour on Monday morning, a little after midnight, when the guide of the expedition came to my tent, and, while I was just dreaming of the rocky mountain of the Túburi, whispered in my ear that a distant expedition was to be undertaken that very day, but not into the country of the Túburi, and that the baggage was to remain here. Although I should rather have preferred visiting the latter tract, situated at the north-eastern branch of the basin of the Niger, I nevertheless was determined not to let any opportunity pass by of extending my geographical knowledge as much as possible, and therefore ordered my horse to be saddled. Mr. Overweg meanwhile, when he heard that the vizier was not to lead the expedition in person, but that the young Bú-Bakr, son of the sheikh, was to take the command, remained behind; and as I had no mounted servant, and could not expect that a man on foot would accompany me to a great distance, I was obliged to go quite alone. Meanwhile the bugles of Bú-Bakr called the warriors together with a soft subdued sound, in order not to allow treachery to spread the news of their plan beforehand. Having passed with some difficulty the narrow gate of the stockade, the expeditionary army formed outside, when we pushed on in a north-easterly direction. But Nature has provided so well for the defence of these poor pagans, that they are not easily taken by surprise.

We succeeded, with the dawn of day, in passing the first broad sheet of water of the wide “ngáljam” of Wúliya, but found great difficulty in passing another water with a deep, argillaceous soil of so boggy a nature that several of the horses fell, even those whose riders had dismounted; and I felt not a little anxiety on account of my own restless and fiery horse, which was snorting like a hippopotamus. At length we left also this morass behind us, and indulged in the hope of having overcome every difficulty, when suddenly we had before us another and far deeper water, which delayed us for a long time. But bad as was our situation whilst we were thus sticking fast in the mud, I could scarcely help laughing heartily, as this very delay enabled the poor pagans to escape with their wives and property to a place of safety. As for most of the horses, the water went over their backs, while I on my stately charger had the water three inches above my knee. A courageous enemy, led on by a clever commander, might at this moment have easily captured most of the horses, and put all the host to flight. At length, after two hours’ exertion, we emerged from this broad sheet of water, which, when full, must present the appearance of an extensive central lake three or four miles in breadth, and many more in length, and now entered upon green pasture-ground, which, however, during the highest state of the inundation is itself under water. Here the army divided into three bodies, and pushed on vigorously, although a great many had retraced their steps upon seeing the deep water.

Proceeding in this way, we reached the first hamlets, and here formed a regular line of battle, while the greater part of the army rushed on in advance, at the sound of the drum and the horns of the kashéllas, to see if there was anything left for them; but all the inhabitants had made their escape. Another delay occurred owing to one of the followers of Bú-Bakr falling into a ditch or hollow twelve feet in depth and the same in breadth, from which he was extricated with some difficulty, while the horse died on the spot. But there was plenty of leisure, the pagans having long ago had sufficient time to make their escape beyond the river. If those simple people had followed the same stratagem which the Bórnu people employ against the Tuarek, digging a quantity of holes and covering them over with bushes, they might have done a great deal of mischief to the cavalry.

This whole tract of country still belongs to the extensive district of Wúliya; but the villages have separate names, which, owing to the unfortunate circumstances under which I visited the country, I was not able to learn. Having passed a considerable village, we reached, a little before eleven o’clock, the furthermost line which the waters of the river Serbéwuel attain during its highest state of inundation, while when they recede they leave extensive ponds of stagnant water behind, which nourish a rich supply of the most succulent herbage. The shore was here about eight feet high, while at the other point, where we had visited the river a few days previously, it was not so well marked. Of course, where the inner shore consists of steeper banks, so that the river does not rise over the higher level to a considerable height, the outward shore cannot be marked so distinctly.

About thirteen hundred yards beyond this grassy outward shore we reached the inner bank of the river, which consisted of sand, and was here only ten feet high. The river at present was confined to this bank, running at this spot from S. 25° E.; but a little lower down it changed its direction, running west by north. Higher up, the opposite shore was richly overgrown with trees, among which deléb- and dúm-palms were conspicuous; but no villages were to be seen, although a place named Kár is said to lie on the eastern shore. The reason we had directed our march to this point seemed to be, that the river is here rather broad, being about eight hundred yards across, and forming a large sandbank, so that my friends had entertained the hope that they would be enabled to ford it, which in some years, when the rains have not been very considerable, may be possible at this season, and even this year might probably be effected in two months’ time. But at present this was not the case, and the rapacious Shúwa Arabs were hurrying about in despair, to and fro, between the island and the western shore.

I too took the direction of the island, as the most interesting point, although I became aware that it was not possible to penetrate further on. The first branch of the river on this side of the island, which was the broader of the two, was not more than from eighteen to nineteen inches deep, and could not but become dry in a short time, when the island, or rather sandbank, should form the knee of the bend of the river; but the eastern branch, though apparently only about one hundred and twenty or one hundred and thirty yards broad, seemed to be of considerable depth, running along with a strong current, and my old friend Abú Dáúd, one of the principal Shúwa chiefs, whom I encountered at the southern point of the sandbank, with a sad countenance, indicated the whole nature of this stream with the laconic and significant expression, “Yákul” (“It eats”),—that is to say, it is not fordable.

It would have been the more dangerous to attempt to force the passage, as the opposite shore, which was so near, and only four feet high, was occupied by a number of stalwart pagans, who mocked at our inability to cross the river, and seemed to be quite ready to receive in a satisfactory manner anybody who should make the attempt. It would have been easy to have blown away these people, and thus to clear the place of descent; but for such an undertaking my friends had not sufficient courage or energy. I did not see a single Kanúri on the island, but only Shúwa, who always expose themselves to the greatest risk, and push on the furthest. The pagans had not only occupied the opposite bank, but even kept afloat four canoes at some distance above the island, in order to run down, with the assistance of the current, any one who should dare to cross the river. Three of these canoes were small; but the fourth was of a larger size, and manned by ten Músgu.

These canoes were the only craft visible on the river, and probably constituted the whole naval force of these pagans. Of course in a country politically rent into so many petty principalities, where every little community, as in ancient times in Latium and Greece, forms a separate little state in opposition to its neighbours, no considerable intercourse is possible, and those natural highroads with which Nature has provided these countries, and the immense field therefore which is open in these regions to human industry and activity, must remain unproductive under such circumstances; but it will be turned to account as soon as the restless spirit of the European shall bring these countries within the sphere of his activity. This period must come. Indeed I am persuaded that in less than fifty years European boats will keep up a regular annual intercourse between the great basin of the Tsád and the Bay of Biyáfra.

An almost uninterrupted communication has been opened by Nature herself; for, from the mouth of the Kwára to the confluence of the river Bénuwé with the Máyo Kébbi, there is a natural passage navigable without further obstruction for boats of about four feet in depth, and the Máyo Kébbi itself, in its present shallow state, seems to be navigable for canoes, or flat-bottomed boats like those of the natives, which I have no doubt may, during the highest state of the inundation, go as far as Dáwa in the Túburi country, where Dr. Vogel was struck by that large sheet of water which to him seemed to be an independent central lake, but which is in reality nothing but a widening of the upper part of the Máyo Kébbi.

It is very probable that from this place there may be some other shallow watercourse, proceeding to join the large ngáljam of Démmo, so that there would exist a real bifurcation between the basin of the Niger and that of the Tsád. But even if this should not be the case, the breadth of the water-parting between these two basins at the utmost cannot exceed twenty miles, consisting of an entirely level flat, and probably of alluvial soil, while the granitic region attached to that isolated rocky mountain which I have mentioned above may, most probably, be turned without difficulty. The level of the Tsád and that of the river Bénuwé near Géwe, where it is joined by the Máyo Kébbi, seem to be almost identical; at least, according to all appearance, the Bénuwé at the place mentioned is not more than eight hundred and fifty or nine hundred feet above the level of the sea. All this bounty of Nature will, I trust, one day be turned to account, though many changes must take place in this country before a regular and peaceful intercourse can be established. The very scenes which I witnessed are an unmistakable proof of the misery into which these regions are plunged.

But, as I have carried away the reader’s attention from the thread of the narrative, so I myself had almost forgotten where I was, and it required an admonition from my friend Abú Dáúd to induce me to look after my own safety; for already the greater part of the Shúwa had returned to the western shore, and threatened to leave us alone, and it did not seem very agreeable to be taken in the rear by the pagans, and perhaps even to be cut off by the boats. I therefore returned to the western shore, where the army was scattered about, not knowing what to do, being rather disinclined to retrace their steps without having enriched themselves with booty of some kind.

Following then the course of the river, I witnessed an interesting and animated scene,—a dozen courageous natives occupying a small elevated island, with steep banks, separated from the shore by a narrow but deep channel, setting at defiance a countless host of enemies, many of whom were armed with firearms. But African muskets are not exactly like Minié rifles, and a musketeer very often misses his aim at a distance of thirty or forty yards. It was astonishing to see that none of this small band of heroes was wounded, notwithstanding the repeated firing of a number of Kanúri people. Either the balls missed their aim entirely, or else, striking upon the shields of these poor pagans, which consisted of nothing but wickerwork, were unable to pierce this slight defence; for not only was the powder of a bad quality, making a great deal of noise without possessing any strength, but even the balls were of extremely light weight, consisting of pewter, as is generally the case here. However, it was not prudent of me to witness this scene (which was so little flattering to my friends) for too long a time; for when they saw that I had my gun with me, they called upon me urgently to fire at these scoffers, and when I refused to do so, reproached me in terms which very often fell to my lot—“ʿAbd el Kerím fáida nsé bágo,” meaning that I was a useless sort of person.

It is a remarkable fact that in almost the whole of the Músgu country, except near a few isolated granite mountains, there is not a single stone, else it would have been almost more profitable to have thrown stones at these people, than to fire at them with the pewter balls. With regard to those peculiar shields of wickerwork with which these courageous Músgu people managed to protect themselves so adroitly, I had afterwards an opportunity of examining them, and found them to be about sixteen inches broad at the top, twenty-two at the bottom, and about forty in length, but hollow. The material consists of the same kind of reed with which their huts are thatched.

About noon the army began its march homewards. Certainly it was not overburdened with spoil; for scarcely fifteen slaves had been taken, mostly decrepit old women, who either could not or would not leave their comfortable cottages. The anger and disappointment of the army was vented upon the habitations of these people; and all the cheerful dwellings which we passed were destroyed by fire. This certainly was a heavy loss to the inhabitants, not so much on account of the huts, which they might easily rebuild, as on account of the granaries, the grain having been harvested some time previously; and, as far as I became aware, there being no subterranean magazines or catamores, as I had observed with the Marghí, and the fugitives in the hurry of their escape mostly probably having only been able to save a small portion of their store. In estimating, therefore, the miseries of these slave-hunts, we ought not only to take into account the prisoners led into slavery, and the full-grown men who are slaughtered, but also the famine and distress consequent upon these expeditions, although nature has provided this peculiar tribe with innumerable shallow watercourses swarming with fish, which must tend greatly to alleviate their sufferings under such circumstances. The forest intervening between these villages consisted almost exclusively of “kindín” or talha-trees, which were just in flower, diffusing a very pleasant fragrance, while here and there they were overshadowed by isolated dúm-palms. As for déleb-palms, I did not observe a single specimen in the whole of this district; but beyond the river to the south-east, as I have mentioned above, I had seen several in the distance.

After a march of four hours, we again reached the broad ngáljam of Démmo, but at a different point from where we had crossed it in the morning with so much delay. It seemed almost providential that we had not taken this route in the morning, as the poor Músgu people would have had less time to make their escape. Leaving the main body of the cavalry behind me, I pursued my march towards my homely tent without delay; for, having been on horseback for more than twelve hours without anything to eat, I was quite ready for some repose and refreshment. But it took me full an hour and a half to cross this peculiar basin, which at present was dry in most places, and overgrown with tall rank grass, but swampy in some parts, and intersected by holes caused by the footprints of the elephant. A mile further along the north-western border of this swamp brought me to my tent, and to the several dishes which awaited me; and this was one of those rare occasions, during my travels in Negroland, on which I dined with a truly European appetite.

The vizier was very gracious, and praised my courage in having accompanied this distant expedition quite by myself; but the Kanúri, who had taken part in it, detracted from my praise, using the very terms which I have mentioned above—“Fáida nsé bágo.” Indeed, this became one of my nicknames during my stay in Bórnu, and was the reason why I was less popular with most of the people than my companion. It is very natural that the motto “Afí fáida nsé?” (“Of what use is he?”) should be the guiding principle, not only of Europeans, but barbarians and semi-barbarians.

The following day we remained on the same spot, probably for no other purpose than to give some repose to the people who had accompanied the expedition the preceding day; and the vizier, who was fully aware of my ardent desire to push further southward, at least as far as the equator, took occasion to make merry at my expense, and, to the great horror of the effeminate courtiers, suddenly proclaimed that it was his firm intention to lead the expedition into those unknown regions in the interior. At times, indeed, he could be exceedingly amiable; and he was clever enough to conceive how Europeans could be induced to undertake such hazardous journeys, although he was scarcely able to appreciate the amount of courage which such an undertaking is able to inspire. He had often spoken with me concerning my project of pushing on towards the east coast; and he thought that a troop of ten Europeans would be able to accomplish it, though he anticipated great obstructions from the quantity of watercourses in those equatorial regions; and there can be no doubt that this would be one of the greatest obstacles to such an undertaking.

In order to console me, and soothe my disappointment on finding that this was to be the furthest point of the expedition, and that we should retrace our steps from hence without even visiting the country of the Túburi, he ordered Mʿallem Jýmma to be called, in order to inform me how far the enterprising Púllo conqueror Búba had penetrated beyond Búban-jídda; but he found that I was already fully acquainted with this fact from other sources. The very interesting route of the Mʿallem Jýmma from Démmo, by the village of the Túburi to Láka and Láme, I have already communicated on a former occasion. It is to be hoped that these regions will soon become better known, when English steamers shall go annually up the river Bénuwé, and enable travellers to start afresh from thence for those inland regions.

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Wednesday, Jan. 7.—This was the day when we were to bid farewell to all projects of penetrating further towards the south or south-east. It was rather remarkable, that, early in the morning, at the very moment when the drum was beating, the moon was eclipsed; but our commander-in-chief was too much enlightened to be frightened at such a phenomenon like the Athenian general before Syracuse. He requested Mr. Overweg to explain it to him; but otherwise he was not much concerned about it.

We this time kept a little more towards the east than on our outward march, approaching closer to the river of Logón. Only a short tract of clear forest separated the cultivated grounds of Démmo from another village, where, besides Negro corn, we found tobacco and cotton in friendly community on the same piece of ground. We had already seen much cultivation of tobacco in this country, and were impressed with the opinion, however strange it may seem, that it was an indigenous plant, and not introduced at a recent period; we had moreover been informed, that not only the men, but even the women in this country, are passionately fond of smoking. But as for cotton, we had not yet seen any in the whole tract of the Músgu country which we had travelled over; and its appearance here seemed to be a step in advance towards civilization, caused, probably, by the influence of the neighbouring town of Logón.

After a short interruption, there followed another village, which was succeeded by forest, and then another swamp, at present dry, and overgrown with tall rank grass, but difficult to pass on account of innumerable holes. Shortly afterwards the country on our right assumed an open and very pleasant appearance, a river with a clear sheet of water, but apparently without a current, winding through it in tortuous meanderings, and closely approaching the higher ground along which the numerous host was pursuing its march. The slope was adorned with wild fig-trees and acacias, which were overshadowed by two fine deléb-palms. This open country was succeeded by the well-cultivated and shaded fields which lay stretched out between the scattered courtyards of another village; and here we encamped, my companion and I pitching our tents near a beautiful sort of fig-tree of the species called “báure” by the Háusa, and “kágo” by the Kanúri, or at least the Mánga.

The whole village was deserted; only a few neglected members of the poultry tribe were running about, endeavouring to escape from the hands of their greedy pursuers. It was a very hot day, the hottest we had on this expedition, the thermometer, at half-past one in the afternoon, indicating 100° in the cool shade of our fine fig-tree. The encampment was cheerful and pleasant; but in the evening a frightful alarm arose—the rumour being spread that the pagans were attacking the “ngáufate,”—the great drum of the commander-in-chief keeping up a tremendous din, and all the people hurrying along in every direction. The alarm was so great that my companion gave up his tent, and retreated with his people to that of the vizier; and I found myself obliged to allow my two servants to follow him also. As for myself, I remained where I was, for I felt little inclination to have my tent once more plundered, as had been the case on our expedition to Kánem. It soon proved to be nothing but a false alarm.

In these predatory incursions, the rapacious Shúwa suffer the greatest loss, as it is they who always push on furthest, and run the greatest risk; but, on the other hand, they also succeed in carrying off secretly a great deal of spoil to their native villages without its becoming subject to the general partition. None of them have firelocks, being only armed with missiles usually consisting of one large spear, or kasákka, and four small javelins, or bállem; very few of them have shields.

Thursday, Jan. 8.—The country through which we passed was extremely fertile and beautiful, the scenery during the first part of our march preserving in general the same features which it exhibited on the preceding day. We ourselves kept along the high ground, at the foot of which a clear open sheet of water was meandering along, while beyond, towards the east, an unbounded grassy plain stretched out, with a scanty growth of trees in the background, and only broken towards the south-east by a low chain of hills. At the distance of a mile we reached some hamlets where dúm- and deléb-palms were grouped together in a remarkable manner, starting forth from, and illuminated by, the sea of flames which was devouring the village, the whole forming a very picturesque spectacle.

Further on we made a halt on the slope of the rising ground, the various troops, distinguished by the diversity of colours of their dresses, grouping themselves around some buildings which were almost consumed by the flames, while I found leisure to sketch the fertile country before us. The people themselves were struck with its beauty; and when we continued our march, I took an opportunity to enter into a conversation with our friend the vizier, with regard to the policy which they pursued with these people, and the way in which they desolated these regions; and I asked him whether they would not act more prudently in allowing the natives to cultivate their fertile country in tranquillity, only levying a considerable tribute upon them. But the vizier answered me, that it was only by the most violent means that they were able to crush these pagans, who cherished their independence and liberty above everything, and that this was the reason why he burnt all the granaries, in order to subdue them by famine; and he added that even of famine they were less sensible than he could wish, as the water in this region afforded them an unlimited supply of fish.

Slaves are the only articles which the conquerors want from the subjected tribes; by carrying into slavery great numbers of them they force them into subjection, and even the tribute which they levy, after having subdued them, consists of slaves. All this will be changed as soon as a regular and legitimate intercourse has been opened along the river Bénuwé into the heart of these regions, when the natural produce of the soil will be in constant request—such as cotton, indigo, vegetable butter, ground-nuts, ivory, rhinoceros’ horns, wax, hides, and many other articles. The vizier himself, although a strict Moslim, was too enlightened to lay much stress upon the spreading of Islám; but nevertheless the idea that these unfortunate creatures fully deserve such treatment, in their character as pagans (kofár or “kérdi”), blunted his feelings to their sufferings.

Further on we crossed the water where it was shallower, and, a little beyond, another meadow-water of greater breadth but not so deep, and then entered a fine undulating country, while an arm of the water remained on our left. The whole country was extremely well cultivated, and densely inhabited, village succeeding village, while large trees, mostly of the ngábbore and karáge kind, enveloped the whole in the finest vegetation. Some of the huts were distinguished by a natural ornamental network or covering, formed by that kind of Cucurbitacea which I have mentioned before as named “ságade” by the natives, and which is probably identical with the species called Melopepo. The aspect of the country was the more pleasing, and left the impression of a certain degree of industry, owing to the tobacco-plants just standing in flower.

Amidst such scenery, we took up our encampment at an early hour in the morning, a beautifully winding watercourse, which was bordered by a fine grassy slope about twenty feet high, closely approaching on our right. The watercourse was about sixty yards broad, but of considerable depth, at least in this place, and full of clear fresh water, which was gently gliding along, and disappeared further down in the plain. Here I lay down for an hour in the cool shade of a large karáge-tree, and allowed myself to be carried away by the recollections caused by the ever-varying impressions of such a wandering life, which repays the traveller fully for all the hardships and privations which he has to endure, and endows him with renewed energy to encounter fresh dangers.

I have before observed what trouble the hard alluvial soil caused us in pitching our tents; but here the argillaceous soil was succeeded by loose sand, which forms the border of the river. The light troops, soon after our arrival to-day, had dispersed in all directions and brought a considerable quantity of cattle from the neighbouring villages; the cattle, however, hereabouts are only of middle size, and the cows yield little milk, and that of very poor quality.

It seems remarkable that the Músgu, as well as the Marghí, and several divisions of the kindred Kótoko, call the cattle by a name which closely approaches that given to it by the Háusa people, while the Bátta call it by a name which is certainly derived from the Fulfúlde, or the language of the Fúlbe. Such linguistic relations are not without interest, as they afford some little insight into the history of the civilization of these regions. A little variety was given to the monotonous proceedings of our rather inglorious expedition, by the fact of one of the Shúwa, who was supposed to have been killed a few days previously, being found under a tree in the forest, severely wounded, but still alive, after having undergone great hardships and privations.

Friday, Jan. 9.—The whole district in which we had been roving about since the 30th December belongs to Wúliya, which is decidedly one of the most fertile and best-irrigated regions in the world.

A desolate border-district, consisting at times of green swampy ground uprooted by the footprints of the elephant, and on this account affording a very difficult passage for cavalry, at others of dense forest, the one following the other in rapid succession, separated Wúliya from another principality, of the name of Bárea, and inhabited by a tribe of the Músgu of the name of Ábare. It was characteristic of the little peaceful intercourse which exists among these various petty tribes, that the Ábare did not seem to have had the slightest information of the approach of the expedition, till we suddenly came upon them through the dense forest, so that they had scarcely time to escape with their families from the village, and endeavour to hide themselves in the dense covert of the forest towards the east. They were pursued and overpowered, after a short resistance, by the continually increasing numbers of the enemy; and the booty of that day, chiefly in cattle, was rather considerable. Slaves were also brought in in considerable numbers, principally young boys and girls. The distance of the field of battle spared us the sight of the slaughter of the full-grown men.

We chose our camping-ground on the stubble-fields between the straggling groups of the village, which were beautifully adorned by some fine specimens of the deléb-palm; and I took the opportunity of making a sketch of this scene of natural fertility, and wanton destruction of human happiness. The huts in general were of the same construction and arrangement as those described above; but in one of them I found a kind of three-pointed harpoon or spear very similar to a hay-fork, with this difference, that the middle point was rather longer. The handle also was rather long, measuring about eight feet. It probably was used for catching fish, rather than as a weapon, otherwise it would scarcely have been left behind; but it may easily have served both purposes.

Thus by very short marches we again approached Bórnu, keeping mostly at a short distance eastward from our former route, and encamped the following day in the midst of another straggling village, the fields of which were especially shaded by fine bíto-trees (Balanites Ægyptiaca), the soil being as hard as iron. I had scarcely pitched my tent when Hámed, the son of Íbrahím Wádáy, one of the courtiers with whom I was on friendly terms, sent to me, begging I would pay him a visit; and, upon complying with his wish, he introduced into my presence a female slave who had been taken the day before, telling me that I might make a drawing of her; for he knew that I was making strict inquiries after the origin and customs of these tribes, and that I was making occasional sketches. This female slave was certainly worthy of a sketch, as she was one of the most stately women I saw here. But I entertained some suspicion that she was not of Músgu origin, but belonged to the Marghí; for in the whole of the Músgu country I had not observed a single individual of red colour, but all were of the same dirty black, approaching to what the French call café-au-lait, while this woman was of a red complexion. She certainly wore in her under lip the large bone, the national emblem of the Músgu females; but this custom she might have adopted. As for herself, she would neither give me any information with respect to her origin, nor sit still in order to allow me to finish my sketch. She was tall and well grown, with the exception of the legs, which were rather crooked; and being still a young woman, her breasts had not attained that bag-like shape which is so disgusting in the elder females of this country. Her features were only a little disfigured by the bone in the under lip. Her neck was richly ornamented with strings of beads; but these were as little peculiar to her as the cotton cloth round her loins, having been given her by the new master into whose hands she had fallen. The national dress of the Músgu females consists of nothing but a narrow bandage, formed of bast, twisted like a rope, which is fastened between the legs and round the waist like a T bandage.

A circumstance happened here which caused a great sensation, particularly among the courtiers. The last messengers who had been sent from Kúkawa with despatches for the commander-in-chief, as I have observed, had been destroyed by the pagans; and it was on this day, and in this place, that, while all the cottages were being pillaged and ransacked, three of the letters of which those messengers had been the bearers, were found in the pocket of a shirt which had been hid in a clay jar. This was evidently the shirt of the messenger himself; and the blood with which it had been stained had been washed out without taking the letters out of the pocket. Devoid as the expedition was of feats of valour and interest, the greatest importance was attached to this little incident.

Sunday, Jan. 11.—When we left this place our friends just barely escaped punishment for their barbarous proceeding of burning the villages, in which we had encamped, as soon as we left them; for the conflagration spread before we had gained the open country, and a most horrible crushing took place among the burning huts. Had there been any wind, great part of the army might have been severely scorched. The country which we passed to-day was intersected by numerous watercourses; and we had to cross and recross them several times. Here we passed a place where the poor natives, in the consciousness of their weakness, seemed to have been aroused to new and unwonted energy for building a large fortification, but had been obliged to leave it half finished. Our march was extremely short, and scarcely extended to three miles, when we encamped in a village which seemed to have been ransacked at a former period. It lay straggling over a wide extent of ground, in separate groups of cottages, which were surrounded by stubble-fields shaded by karáge-trees of a richness and exuberance which I had not seen before, and surpassing even those fine trees of the same species which I have described near the village Kadé.

Of course every one was desirous of having his tent pitched in the shade of one of these beautiful trees, when suddenly the intruders were attacked by swarms of large bees, which, settling behind their ears, tormented them to the utmost, as if they wanted to take revenge for the mischief that had been done to their masters, and to defend their favourite resting-places, against these cruel intruders. It is well known that swarms of bees had almost caused the destruction of Mungo Park’s, as well as Major Gray’s expedition; but here a whole army was running away from these little creatures. Even those who had encamped at a greater distance were only able to protect themselves by the large volumes of smoke which issued from the fires they had lighted. Before this, we had not observed the rearing of bees in this country; but here the larger trees were full of beehives, made of large-sized blocks. Even flocks of turtle-doves were not wanting in this fertile region so rich in water and vegetation.

In this pleasant spot we remained encamped the following day, while part of the army was sent out in a southerly direction towards our former encampment, Kákala, which was only at a few miles’ distance, in order to try their fortune thereabouts; but the pagans being upon their guard, they returned empty-handed in the evening. Our food to-day was varied, to our great satisfaction, by an excellent fish of considerable size, which we obtained from the neighbouring pond. Fish seems to be plentiful in this quarter; but whether the number of small ridges and channels which we observed on our march the following day were intended for catching fish, which might enter them at the highest level of the inundation, or for preparing the fields for cultivation, I am not quite sure; but the former seemed to be the case, there being no signs whatever of the fields being brought under labour. Dense forest and open pasture-ground alternated, the forest, consisting of middle-sized acacias, interrupted now and then by the kálgo-tree, with its ash-coloured leaves and its dark red pods, or by the kókia.

The country, however, became exceedingly interesting and pleasant when we reached one of the numerous watercourses of these African Netherlands, an open and clear river about seventy yards broad, which being fringed on each bank with a border of slender deléb-palms, or kamelútu, in the clear magnificent morning sky, afforded a most picturesque view. We here crossed this water, and passed a village on our left, and, keeping along the fresh turf of the western bank a mile further on, reached a spot where another branch, running eastward apparently, though no current is visible, and fringed likewise by palms of the same description, joins the main channel. The country being without any perceptible inclination, it is extremely difficult, nay almost impossible, to decide about the direction of these watercourses, except during the period of their highest inundation. But the fertile and picturesque landscape beyond this narrow sheet of water, which stretched along in a regular line like an artificial canal, did not seem at all to be deserted, natives being seen in every direction. The commander of the expedition therefore ordered a short halt, the army presenting their front to the enemy, and preventing the stragglers from crossing the river, which, owing to their greediness for spoil, they seemed to have not a little inclination to do. But the great men of Bórnu at the present day do not like any unusual exertion; and it was decided to await the arrival of the camels, to encamp at ease, and to take luncheon. We then turned off a little to the westward, entered a village, and encamped in the stubble-fields.

Suddenly, just about noon, without my having any previous knowledge of it, the vizier and his officers mounted on horseback, in order to attack the pagans on the other side of the water; but these poor people, to whom had been given full opportunity of estimating the strength of the army, had thought it prudent to make use of the leisure thus afforded them, not by the mercy, but by the cowardly disposition of their enemies, to convey their families and property into a place of safety; for the river of Logón passed at a distance of only four miles from this place, and in its present state was capable of affording perfect security to the persecuted natives, their pursuers having no boats. But although the army did not go to a great distance, and returned after an absence of three hours, I was rather sorry for having neglected this opportunity of obtaining a sight of the river of Logón again at another place, and likewise of visiting once more that picturesque district, so rich in deléb-palms, which was evidently one of the finest in the whole country. Mr. Overweg, who had received previous information of the intention of the vizier, was this time more fortunate than myself, and afterwards informed me that they had been obliged to keep first along the smaller river, in order to reach the ford where we had crossed it in the morning. The great river, which they reached about three miles beyond, exhibited a single bed, and was not fordable.

While remaining behind in the empty encampment, I lamented the misery of accompanying such an expedition; for nothing can be more disheartening to the feelings of a traveller who is desirous of knowledge, than to visit these beautiful countries under such circumstances, when the original inhabitants are either exterminated, or obliged to seek their safety in flight, when all traces of their cheerful life are destroyed, and the abodes of human happiness converted into desolation, when no one is left to acquaint him with all the significant names which the various characteristic features of the country must necessarily bear, especially those numberless creeks, swamps, and rivers which intersect this country in all directions. The stranger who intrudes upon the natives in this hostile manner is scarcely able to make out a few dry names of the principal dwelling-places, and, being placed under such disadvantageous circumstances, is at least justified in speaking more emphatically of the endless misery into which the finest and most populous regions of this continent are plunged by these slave-hunting expeditions of their merciless Mohammedan neighbours. This fertile district, which is enclosed by the river of Logón on the east, and by the narrow channel-like watercourse on the west side, seems to be that very dominion of “Fúss,” the power of which, as I have related before, was greatly dreaded by our friends.

This was the coolest day we had as yet experienced on our expedition, the thermometer, in the cool shade of a tree, at half-past one o’clock in the afternoon, indicating only 84°. This was probably attributable to the fresh northerly breeze which sprung up about noon; for during the night it was not so cold as we felt it afterwards, the thermometer during this time indicating, at sunrise, between 56° and 59°, and at sunset between 74° and 77°.

Wednesday, Jan. 14.—We made a longer march than usual, while the character of the country changed entirely, and not, as it seemed, to its advantage; for instead of a fertile landscape, clothed with rich verdure, we entered upon bleak alluvial plains scantily overgrown with stunted mimosas, and to all appearance almost unfit for producing grain. It was one of those remarkable days in January which, in the whole of Central Africa, form a distinct season by themselves. A thick fog enveloped the whole country, and excluded any distant view, and, while subsequently it helped to increase the dismal character of the country, in the beginning of our march it prevented us from enjoying once more the rich scenery of the preceding day; for we had first to return to the bank of that beautiful clear sheet of water along which our march had led the day before. Its banks here also were quite flat, but the sheet of water was wider than at the place where we had seen it before. Proceeding a little in advance of the army, I obtained a sight of a river-horse just at the moment when it raised its immense head above the surface of the watery element.

But as soon as we left this fine clear sheet of water the character of the country changed entirely, assuming an exceedingly sombre aspect, and we passed a hamlet more cheerless and miserable than any I had seen in the whole of this country. Not a single trace of cultivation was seen on the bleak, black, argillaceous soil; and it was evident that the inhabitants of this hamlet subsisted solely on the fish which they were able to catch; and these may be abundant, as the whole configuration of the ground evidently shows that this entire tract is reached by the inundation during the rainy season.

The country preserved the same aspect as we proceeded onwards; and the hamlets which we passed were not of a more inviting appearance than the first. Only now and then an isolated deléb-palm, or kamelútu, raised its magnificent tuft into the air, and served, by the contrast it afforded, to make this spot appear more gloomy. A large piece of ground was entirely covered with aghúl (Hedysarus alhajji) which seemed to me not a little remarkable, as I did not remember to have seen this plant, which is so much liked by the camel, since I had left Taganáma.

The country assumed more and more the appearance of a swamp at present dry; and we were even obliged to change our direction frequently, in order to avoid spots where the bog had not dried up, while everywhere we observed the same kind of small ridges which I have mentioned before. Further on, the ground became a little drier, but presented only a monotonous waste, with detached bunches of rank grass, overshadowed now and then by scanty and stunted karáge-trees scarcely fifteen feet high, while we had been accustomed, in the Músgu country, to see this kind of tree assume the size of the most magnificent specimens of the vegetable kingdom, with an elevation of from seventy to eighty feet, and a crown of not less diameter. As far as the eye could reach, the character of the country presented the same poor appearance; but, as I have mentioned before, the sky was not very clear, and the view was therefore rather limited. The bush of the fan-palm seemed to be quite solitary, without there being a full-grown specimen to be seen.

At length this swampy ground seemed to have an end; but nothing but poor stubble-fields, where the crop had failed, took its place, with here and there a few detached poor-looking huts, the few trees which were visible exhibiting the same scanty growth that we had observed in the district through which we had just passed. At last the eye, fatigued by the length of this gloomy tract, was refreshed by the sight of a field with a fresh crop of másakuwá, or Holcus cernuus, though it was far from being a rich one. Already here, besides the huts common in this country, others, of a remarkable and peculiar style, became visible, such as I shall describe further on, and as only the most excellent clay soil can enable the natives to build.

Entering for a while a grassy plain, we reached an open water, such as the Kanúri people call komádugu, about thirty yards broad, but apparently of considerable depth, being enclosed by banks ten feet high, and winding through the plain in a fine meandering course. The water, at present, had no current; and we found a spot where it was totally broken, and were enabled to cross it with dry feet.

A few hundred yards on the other side of this watercourse were the ruins of Bága, the residence of the chief Kábishmé (or, as the Kanúri call him, Kabshimé), which had been ransacked last year by Kashélla ʿAlí Fúgomámi. Among these ruins the vizier, by the advice of Ádishén, who wanted to keep the undisciplined host from his own fertile territory, had chosen the encampment. Thither I directed my steps, while the main body of the cavalry were scattered about the cornfields, in order to gather the half-ripe ears of grain for themselves and their half-starved horses; and he was lucky who arrived first, those who came afterwards either finding nothing at all, or only green, unwholesome corn.

The whole district where the encampment was chosen was bare and desolate in the extreme, especially on the eastern side, where it was only bordered by stunted mimosas a considerable distance off. But the village itself, and particularly the dwelling of the chief Kábishmé, was calculated to create a great deal of interest, as well on account of the finished and careful execution of the buildings as owing to a certain degree of comfort and homeliness which was evident in the whole arrangement; and in this respect it was very fortunate that, immediately after our arrival, before the train came up, I directed my attention towards these buildings, for afterwards the deserted palace of the Músgu chief became a harím, or prohibited spot, the vizier finding its architectural arrangements very useful and convenient for his own domestic purposes.

The palace must have afforded a very different spectacle in former times, when it was inhabited, it being at present in such a state of ruin that several features in its arrangement could not be distinctly made out, almost everything that was liable to take fire having been destroyed, and especially the sheds and inner courtyards, which are so characteristic of the domestic life of these people. At present it was an empty courtyard of a tolerably round shape, and of large circumference, surrounded by huts more or less destroyed, and adorned at the four corners, if we may speak of corners in a building of almost round shape, by buildings of a very peculiar and remarkable character, which at once attracted my attention, as they bore testimony to a degree of order, and even of art, which I had not expected to find among these tribes.

They were small round rumbú, about eight feet in diameter, and at least twelve feet high to the apex of the cupola, the clay walls of which were very neatly polished; the entrance formed a projecting portal about six feet high, four feet deep, and not more than fourteen inches wide. The exterior, to the very top of the cupola, was ornamented in a very peculiar manner by regular lines of projecting ribs running round the building in the way represented in the woodcut. These very remarkable rooms, although at present empty, from their analogy with several buildings described above, and according to the statements of the people, were nothing but well protected granaries, although they might have served occasionally in the cold season as bedrooms or sleeping-rooms. They were exactly the same at each of the four corners; but the north-east corner of the yard claimed particular attention, owing to another very remarkable apartment being there joined to the granary, which, as it is best adapted to give a clear idea of the homely comfort of these people, however low the scale of their civilization may be, has been made use of to represent, in the plate opposite, a scene of the domestic life of these people, besides that its ground-plan is given in the accompanying woodcut.

It was a round uncovered apartment of about twenty-four feet in diameter, inclosed by a clay wall of about seven feet high, and a foot in thickness, and carefully polished at the corners. The doorway was about four feet high by about two feet wide; entering through this you had on your left a bank of clay running parallel with the wall, and enclosing a space of about two and a half feet in breadth. It was a foot and a quarter high, and one foot broad, and ran round more than half the circumference of the room, but, in order to afford easy access to the narrow space between it and the wall, had an opening in the centre, both ends of the banks thus formed having a regularly shaped projection. The space included between the bank and the wall formed a sort of stable, as was evident from three stakes placed in the ground at equal distances from each other. Probably it was the place for three head of cattle or goats. The clay bank, therefore, served two purposes, partly as a separation of the stable from the inner apartment, and partly as a seat. The centre of the apartment was formed by a shed about eight feet by six, and consisting of a roof of reeds and grass, supported by four stakes, and furnishing an evident proof that the apartment had never been covered in, but formed an open little courtyard sub dio.

On the right of this shed was the cooking-place or kitchen, enclosed by two very low clay walls, and formed by four projections of clay in the shape of large round stones, which in a very simple manner formed two fireplaces, each of which, if detached, would have required three stones. Between the kitchen, the shed, and one end of the clay bank, and divided from the former by a separate wall, appeared a broad entrance to the adjoining building, which we have recognized as a granary; but at present it was walled up, and formed a recess for some purpose or other. Between the kitchen and the gateway was another place enclosed between two thin clay walls, which was most probably destined to contain the water-jar.

The four well-built and well-secluded rooms, which had been intended originally as granaries, seemed very desirable to the vizier in the cold weather, as he was able to lodge there, very comfortably, himself and his female slaves; for the cold in this open spot, which was not protected either by vegetation or by any rising of the ground, was so severe that not only the whole black world, but the two whites also, that is to say Mr. Overweg and myself, natives of the north of Europe, suffered severely from its intensity. Indeed it was most distressing during the night to hear the shrieks of the poor naked Músgu slaves, who had been torn from their warm huts; and it was not till about noon that they seemed to revive a little. Nevertheless the thermometer at six o’clock in the morning of the 15th, indicated as much as 51°, which was the greatest amount of cold we had during this expedition, and at noon it even rose to 87°.

We were obliged to remain in this uncomfortable place several days, owing to the circumstance that the whole of the spoil was to be divided here before we left the hostile territory; for an undisciplined host like this, of course, cannot be controlled except by fear, and if the people were allowed to regain their own territory with what they had taken in slaves and cattle, they would go to their own homes without contributing anything to the common share of the army. This is also the custom in Wádáy as well as in Dár Fúr, the spoil being divided before the expedition re-enters the friendly territory. Although on the present occasion the expedition had not been eminently successful in the different places, nevertheless the whole booty, besides about ten thousand head of cattle, amounted to a considerable number of slaves. The leaders boasted that they had taken not less than ten thousand slaves; and although I was glad to find that this number was exaggerated, I convinced myself that they numbered not less than three thousand.

By far the largest proportion of this number consisted of aged women, who had not been able to join in the hasty flight, and of children under eight years of age. There were some women so decrepit that they were scarcely able to walk—mere skeletons, who in their almost total nakedness, presented a horrible sight. All the full-grown men who had been taken prisoners, with the exception of a few cowards who had not made any resistance, had been slaughtered; but their number scarcely exceeded three hundred, almost the whole full-grown male population of the country having had time to escape. Of these three thousand slaves, the commander-in-chief received a third part; but he also claimed for himself the whole amount of the slave-hunt which was made into the territory of Ádishén, and which constituted a sort of tribute.

In the afternoon of the 17th, two officers had left the encampment, under the pretext of gathering fodder from the neighbouring villages, but in the evening returned with about eight hundred slaves, and a considerable number of cattle; and we were given to understand that this foray was executed with the consent of the chief himself,—to such degrading means did this despicable chief resort in order to preserve his authority, however precarious it was. Of course he selects as a sacrifice such of his subjects as are not his zealous followers; but it is almost incredible how such a government can exist, as his dominion scarcely extends over a tract of country more than fifteen miles in every direction. At any rate, his subjects seem to be fully justified in taking care of themselves; and they had succeeded, in the darkness, in getting back part of the spoil which had been taken from them.

The vizier himself pretended to behave in a very gracious manner towards the submissive vassal, returning to him about two hundred of the oldest and most decrepit women, who, he most probably thought, would succumb to the fatigues of the march, observing, in a tone of friendly irony, that they were to cultivate the country, and that when he should return he would eat of the produce of their labour. On other occasions the vizier had expressed himself to me to the effect that he wished Ádishén strong and powerful, in order that, as a faithful vassal, he might oppose the progress of the Felláta in these regions; for in his heart he was the most inveterate enemy of that enterprising nation, and certainly he had ample reason to be so. It was on this occasion I heard that this renegade Músgu chief had never been rebellious to his Bórnu sovereign (which, from information I had received previously, I concluded to have been the case), but that occasionally he was obliged to make reprisals against the Shúwa, who were making plundering expeditions into his territory. We have already noticed the peculiar situation of this Músgu chief, separated from the interests of his countrymen, and opposed to them in a hostile manner. He has to defend his position against all the people around him, while his rear is very badly protected by his very friends the Bórnu people, even the Shúwa Arabs, who are subjected to the former, infesting his territory. Only with his kinsmen, the people of Logón, he seemed to be at the time on friendly terms.

Monday, Jan. 19.—We at length set out on our return to Kúkawa. We first returned to the ford of shallow water, and then continued through a fine grassy plain, passing one or two hamlets and a few fields of native corn. We then encamped, after a march of about ten miles. Already this day, in the distance towards the west, we had observed some small elevations; but, proceeding at a slow rate, and making very short days’ marches, we did not reach the district of Wáza, which is distinguished by its rocky mounts, till the 22nd, when, after a march of about fifteen miles, we encamped between those two rocky eminences which form the most characteristic feature of this locality.

It gave us extraordinary pleasure, after having traversed the flat alluvial plains of Bórnu and Músgu, to find ourselves once more opposite to some elevation of even a moderate altitude. These eminences assumed a very picturesque appearance. The valley between the two rocky mountains where we were encamped was rather bare of trees; but there were some beautiful wild fig-trees at the north-eastern foot of the western eminence, where a pond was formed in a deep hollow. To this spot I turned my steps immediately after our arrival, before the camels had joined us, and spent here a delightful hour, all the horses belonging to the army being brought here to be watered, and forming a varied and highly interesting scene, with the rich verdure of the trees around, and the steep rocky cliffs above them, while fresh parties were continually arriving from the camp.

Having made a sketch of this locality, I went to join my companion, and we decided upon ascending the more elevated of the two eminences; but having attained to the height of some hundred feet, I felt quite exhausted, especially as I had a severe cold, and gave it up; but Mr. Overweg ascended to the top, which rises to about seven hundred feet above the plain.[83] These rocky mounts abound with a species of black monkey, while even beasts of prey generally have their haunts here. The crevices formed by the granite blocks are adorned with small trees and shrubs. The view from here, over the immense plain towards the south, girt as it was by a continuous band of middle-sized timber, was very characteristic, the uniform line being relieved in the foreground by the other rocky mount. This place belongs already to the territory of Logón, and consists of several small hamlets inhabited by Shúwa, but governed by a chief, or “lawán,” who belongs to the tribe of the Fúlbe. It was here that we received the news that a courier had arrived from Fezzán, but that he had been plundered, by the Tuarek, of the letters and articles which he was carrying for us. This, of course, was sad news, although we did not expect to receive money, or anything of great value, at the time.

Wednesday, Jan. 22.—After a long delay, caused by the straying of the vizier’s favourite horse, which he rode every day, and which had most mysteriously disappeared during the night, from the midst of the encampment, we left this interesting spot, and after a good ride over a very rich though insufficiently cultivated tract of country, encamped at a short distance from a broad shallow water adorned with the finest trees; it is called Zéngiri. From here we reached Díggera, and took up our quarters in our old camp, pitching our tents on the very spot where they had stood two months previously; and from this point onwards, we stopped each day at the same place where we had encamped on our outward journey.

Saturday, Feb. 1.—On our re-entering the capital there was a good deal of ceremony and etiquette observed, when the whole army, at least that part which had not yet been disbanded, was formed into one compact line of battle, in order to receive in a suitable manner the military salutes which were paid to the commander-in-chief on his successful return. Distinguished above all those who came to meet us and pay their compliments to the commander, was Ghét, the chief of the Welád Slímán, who, a few days previously, had arrived from Kánem, where we left him, and from whence he had made a successful expedition against the Kúnkuna in Kárká. Galloping up with the utmost speed, at the head of his little band of from twenty to thirty horsemen clad in their picturesque attire, this petty Arab chief exhibited an interesting and animated specimen of horsemanship, which presented a remarkable contrast to the unwieldy movements of the clumsy and sluggish figures of the negroes. Returning to our old quarters in the town, we were treated with a peculiar dainty of the Kanúri, consisting of the fresh seeds of the grain called masr (Zea maïs), which are roasted in a peculiar way.

Thus ended this expedition, which opened to us a slight glimpse into the richly watered zone of the equatorial regions, which had been supposed to form an insurmountable barrier of a high mountain chain, and brought us into contact with tribes whose character has been represented as almost approaching to that of wild beasts. We had certainly not entered those regions under such circumstances as were most desirable to us; but on the contrary, we had been obliged to associate ourselves with an army whose only purpose was to spread devastation and misery over them. Nevertheless, situated as we were, while we could not prevent this mischief, we were glad that we had been enabled to see so much. We were without any means, no further supplies having arrived; but I did not despair, and in order still to be able to try my fortune once more in another direction before I returned home, besides other articles, I even sold my large tent, and employed part of the proceeds to line my small tent, which was fast wearing out, and neither excluded rain nor sun.

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