V. SCULPTURES AND ROMAN REMAINS IN THE DESERT—GHARÍYA…

V. SCULPTURES AND ROMAN REMAINS IN THE DESERT—GHARÍYA

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.

I(mperatori) Caes(ari) M. Aurelio Severo Alexandro P(atri) P(atriæ) P(i)o Felici Aug(usto) Et pagus et senatus et castr(um) [or castrum munitum] et municipium ... d. d.; poni curavit Severianæ P. Nero situs vexillationis leg(ioni)s IV. S(cythicæ); [or legionis XXI. Victricis Severianæ] dec(urio) Maurorum e(t) solo (o)pere (e)andem vexillationem instituit.

“To the Emperor Cæsar M. Aurelius Severus, Father of his Country, Pious, Happy, Augustus, the district, the senate, the camp, and free town of ... dedicate (this).... P. Nero Decurion of the Moors, caused the station of the Severian regiment (horse) of the 21st Legion, Victorious, Severian, to be established; and he instituted by his own act the same regiment.”

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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VI. WADY SHATI.—OLD JERMA.—ARRIVAL IN MÚRZUK

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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VII. RESIDENCE IN MURZUK

Unfortunately our stay in Múrzuk seemed likely to become a very long one, as the chiefs from Ghát, who were to take us under their protection, were not yet sent for; the courier with our letters, to which was added a missive from the acting governor, promising perfect security to the chiefs, did not set out till the 8th of May. No doubt, in order to visit Aïr, a country never before trodden by European foot, with any degree of safety, we wanted some powerful protection; but it was very questionable whether any of the chiefs of Ghát could afford us such, while the sending for them expressly to come to Múrzuk to fetch us would, of course, raise their pretensions very high, and in the same degree those of other chiefs whose territory we should enter hereafter. Be this as it may, this mode of procedure having been once adopted, the question arose, whether all three of us should proceed to Ghát; and it was decided, the very next day after our arrival, that the director of the expedition alone (Mr. Richardson) should touch at that place, in order to make, if possible, a treaty with the chiefs in that quarter, while Mr. Overweg and I were to proceed with the caravan by the southern route directly to the well Arikím, and there to await Mr. Richardson.

Providentially, a man had been sent to act as mediator between us and the countries to which we were about to direct our steps. He had been recommended to us in the very strongest terms by Hassan Bashá, the former governor of Fezzán, whom we had frequently seen in Tripoli, and who knew something about the men of influence and authority in Negroland. This man was Mohammed Bóro, who, with the title Serki-n-turáwa, “Lord of the Whites,” resided generally in Ágades, but had also a house and many connections in Sókoto, and at present was on his home-journey from a pilgrimage to Mekka.

Mohammed Bóro called upon us on the 8th of May at Gagliuffi’s house. He was an elderly, respectable-looking man, wearing a green bernús over white under-clothes. He could speak but little Arabic, but received Mr. Gagliuffi’s empty and rather ironical assurances, that the whole welfare and success of the expedition were placed in his (Mohammed Bóro’s) hands, with a continual strain of “el hamdu lilláhi”s. In his company were his eldest son and another man of Asben. He afterwards sent us some gúro, or kola-nuts, of which he seemed to have a great stock, and which he also sold in the market. Gagliuffi sent him, as an acknowledgment, a very lean sheep, which, with a small loaf of sugar, was all he got from us in Múrzuk. Instead of gaining his friendship, this treatment served only to irritate him, and was productive of some very bad consequences for us. This interesting person will appear in his true character and importance in the course of this narrative.

The appearance of Múrzuk is rather picturesque; but its extreme aridity is felt at once; and this feeling grows stronger on a prolonged residence. Even in the plantation which surrounds it there are only a few favoured spots where, under the protection of a deeper shade of the date-trees, a few fruit-trees can be cultivated, such as pomegranates, figs, and peaches. Culinary vegetables, including onions, are extremely scarce; milk, except a little from the goats, is of course quite out of the question.

The town lies in a flat hollow, “Hófrah,” which is the appropriate native name of the district, but nevertheless at the considerable elevation of 1,495 ft., surrounded by ridges of sand; and in this hollow lies scattered the plantation, without the least symmetry of arrangement or mark of order. In some places it forms a long narrow strip extending to a great distance, in others a detached grove, while on the south-east side of the town the desert approaches close to the walls in a deep inlet. Towards the east a little grove apart forms as it were an advanced post. The densest and finest part of the grove is towards the north, where also are the greatest number of gardens and fields in which wheat, barley, gédheb (or rather kédheb), and a few vegetables, are cultivated with much labour. In the same quarter also the greatest number of cottages are to be found, including huts (large and small) made of palm-branches,—the former consisting of several apartments and a small courtyard, the latter having generally only one room of very narrow dimensions.

In the midst of this plantation lies Múrzuk. It is situated so as not to face the cardinal points, but with a deviation from them of thirty degrees, the north side running N. 30° E., S. 30° W., and so on: it is less than two miles in circumference. The walls, built of clay with round and pointed bastions, but partly in bad repair, have, two gates, the largest on the east, and the other on the west side. There is only a very small gate on the north side, and there is none towards the south. This quarter of the town has been greatly contracted by ʿAbd el Jelíl, as the remains of the old wall of the time of Mukni clearly show; but the town is still much too large for its scanty population, which is said now to amount to 2,800, and the greatest part of it, especially in the quarters most distant from the bazar, is thinly inhabited and half in ruins. The characteristic feature of the town, which shows that it has more points of relation with Negroland than with the lands of the Arabs, is the spacious road or “dendal” stretching out from the eastern gate as far as the castle, and making the principal part of the town more airy, but also infinitely more exposed to the heat.

The bazar, of course, is the most frequented part of the town. It lies nearly halfway between the east and west gates, but a little nearer to the former, and affords, with its halls of palm-stems, a very comfortable place for the sellers and buyers. The watch-house at the east end of the bazar, and almost opposite Mr. Gagliuffi’s house (from the terrace of which a view was taken), is ornamented with a portico of six columns; which adds to the neat appearance of this quarter of the town. The kásbah is the same as in Captain Lyon’s time, with its immense walls and small apartments; but the outer court has been much improved by the building of a barrack or kishlah, which now forms its northern portion. It is a large quadrangular building, with a spacious esplanade in the interior, around which are arranged the principal apartments. The building is said to be capable of containing two thousand men, though at present there are but four hundred in the garrison, who are well lodged and fed.

The accompanying sketch of a ground-plan will give a tolerably exact idea of the whole character of the town.

With regard to commerce, the condition of Múrzuk is very different from that of Ghadámes. The latter is the residence of wealthy merchants, who embark all their capital in commercial enterprises, and bring home their own merchandise. But Múrzuk is rather the thoroughfare than the seat of a considerable commerce, the whole annual value of imports and exports amounting, in a round sum, to 100,000 Spanish dollars; and the place, therefore, is usually in great want of money, the foreign merchants, when they have sold their merchandise, carrying away its price in specie,—the Mejábera to Jálo, the Tébu to Bílma and Bórnu, the people of Tawát and Ghadámes to their respective homes. Few of the principal merchants of Múrzuk are natives of the place. The western or Sudán route is more favourable to commerce than the route to Bórnu. On the latter the Tuarek are always ready to furnish any number of camels to carry merchandise, and to guarantee their safety, while the road to Bórnu, which is the nearest for Múrzuk, is in such a precarious state, that the merchant who selects it must convey his merchandise on his own camels and at his own risk. As for the routes through Fezzán, the Hotmán, the Zwáya, and the Megésha are the general carriers of the merchandise; while, on the route to Sudán, the conveyance at present is wholly in the hands of the Tinýlkum.

As soon as Gagliuffi learned distinctly the plan of our expedition, he made an agreement with these people to take our things as far as Selúfiet; and they were anxious to be off. After much procrastination, they fixed upon the 6th of June for taking away the merchandise with which we had been provided here. We were to follow on the 12th; but the luggage not being ready at an early hour, our final departure was fixed for the 13th.

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Chapter VIII

THE DESERT.—TASÁWA.—EXACTIONS OF THE ESCORT.—DELAY AT ELÁWEN.

Accompanied by Mr. Gagliuffi, the Greek doctor, and the Bin-básha, we left Múrzuk by the western gate. My parting from Mr. Gagliuffi was cordial. He had received us and treated us hospitably, and had shown an earnest desire to further our proceedings, and to secure if possible the success of our expedition; and, if in his commercial transactions with the mission he did not neglect his own advantage, we could not complain, though it would have been infinitely better for us if we had been provided with a more useful sort of merchandise.

In leaving the town we kept, in general, along the same path by which we had first entered it, and encamped during the hot hours of the day in the scanty shade afforded by the trees of Zerghán, the well close by affording us delicious draughts of cool water, not at all of that brackish insipid taste which is common to the water of Fezzán. We had started in the belief that we should find our luggage in Óm el hammám; but in this place we learned from the poor ragged people who come occasionally hither to take care of the trees, that it was gone on to Tigger-urtín. Not knowing, however, the road to the latter place, we took the path to Óm el hammám, and encamped about seven o’clock in the afternoon a little north of it.

Om el hammám is a half-decayed and deserted village, built of clay, which is strongly incrusted with salt, the inhabitants at present living entirely in huts made of palm-branches. The plantation being intermixed with a large number of ethel-trees (Tamarix orientalis), and interspersed with gardens, exhibited a more varied aspect than is generally the case with these groves; and having pitched our tent near a large ethel-bush, we felt very comfortable, especially as we had the good luck to obtain a few eggs, which, fried with plenty of onions, made a very palatable supper.

Next morning we directed our course to Tigger-urtín, making almost a right angle towards the north, and crossing a desolate plain incrusted with salt, after we had left the fine plantation of Óm el hammám. Having reached the village of our camel-drivers, which consists entirely of huts of palm-branches, we looked long in vain for a tolerable camping-ground, as the strong wind filled the whole air with sand. At length we pitched our tents a few paces south from the well. It was an extremely sultry and oppressive day, and the wind anything but refreshing. In the afternoon we went to pay our compliments to Mohammed Bóro, who had left Múrzuk several days before us. He informed us that he had consumed all his provisions, and that he would have left to-day for Tasáwa, in order to replenish his stores, if he had not seen us coming. We consoled him with the intimation that we hoped our whole party would be soon ready for starting, and sent him a quantity of dates and corn. The next day I went roving through the valley, which a little further to the north-west was much prettier, and had several fine clusters of palm-trees; but the most picturesque object was the old village, built of clay, now entirely in decay, but surrounded by a dense group of fine date-trees. Subjoined is a sketch of it.

At the south-west end of the grove also is a little village, likewise deserted. Here I met a Felláta or Pullo slave, a full-grown man, who, when a young lad, had been carried away from his native home, somewhere about Kazaure, and since then had been moiling and toiling here in this half-deserted valley, which had become his second home. He told me that fever had driven away the old inhabitants of the village long ago, after which the Tinýlkum seem to have taken entire possession of it, though it is remarkable that its name seems rather to belong to the Berber language, its original form being Tigger-odén (ŏdē means the valley), which has been changed into the more general form Tigger-urtín. The whole valley, which makes a turn towards the south-west, is full of ethel-bush, and affords shelter to a number of doves. Groups of palm-trees are scattered about.

In the morning I took a walk round the village of the Tinýlkum, which exhibited some lively and interesting scenes. All the men were saying their prayers together upon a sand-hill on the north side of the principal cluster of cottages, while the women were busy in getting ready the provisions for the long journey about to be undertaken by their husbands, and the children were playing among them. About fifty or sixty huts were lying hereabouts, most of them formed into groups; others more detached. Some of them had pointed roofs, while others were flat-roofed; but all of them had a neat and orderly appearance. Besides camels, which constitute their principal wealth, as by means of them they are enabled to undertake those long annual journeys to Sudán, they possess a good many sheep. Two of our camel-drivers, Ibrahím and Slimán, whom I shall have occasion to mention repeatedly, together with their mother and sister, were in possession of a flock of about two hundred head, which they were sending to the fine pasture-grounds of Terhén in Wady Berjúsh. Besides the latter valley, the Tinýlkum also use the valley Táderart as their chief pasture-grounds.

On the east-north-east side of the village rose a hill about one hundred feet high, and affording a fine view over the valley-plain. From its highest summit, where a niche for prayers has been laid out with stones on the ground, it stretches from east to west, and forms a kind of separation in the flat valley, limiting the ethel-tree to its western part, all the sand-hills in the eastern prolongation being covered with palm-bushes, which, from a distance, have the appearance of a thick grove. Descending from this hill northwards, I came to the handsomely decorated sepulchre of Háj Sálemi, the brother of the sheikh, who resides in Múrzuk, and further on met a party of Tinýlkum en route for the wady, where numbers of them are residing. Another division dwells about Sebhha; but the whole body of the tribe comprises from 350 to 400 families, which are united by the closest bonds, and act as one body—“like meal” (to use their own expression) “falling through the numerous holes of a sieve into one pot.” About noon arrived the pilgrim-caravan of the Tawáti, which had been long encamped near Múrzuk, on their way home; it had been this year only 114 persons strong, with 70 muskets, while sometimes it musters as many as 500 persons. Their chief, or sheikh el rákeb, was an intelligent person of the name of ʿAbd el Káder, a native of Timímun, who had been leader of the caravan several times. They encamped at no great distance from us on the open ground.

Being obliged to buy another camel for myself (in order to be able to mount our servant Mohammed el Túnsi on a camel of our own, the Tinýlkum being very particular about their beasts, and not liking to see a man often mounting them), I bought, in the afternoon, a fine tall méheri from Háj Mohammed, for 69 Fezzán riyals or 55 Spanish dollars. I made a longer excursion along the eastern part of the wady, which here, where it is lower and collects more humidity, is adorned with some beautiful wild groups of palm-trees left quite to themselves; the valley extends towards Wady Ghodwa, which it joins. Keeping on in that direction, I came to a poor hamlet called Márhhaba inhabited by a few families, who bitterly complained of their poverty. Here was formerly a village built of clay, and a large spacious castle about sixty-five paces square. All is now deserted; and only a small part of the available ground is under culture, forming about six or seven small fields. The same picture is met with all over Fezzán, where the only places exhibiting to the eye some degree of life and prosperity are Sokna and Múrzuk. The population of this wide expanse of country falls short of even sixty thousand souls.

The heat of the day had already set in, when I returned to the tents, where I was extremely rejoiced to see the different members of our caravan collecting at last, so as to afford a fair prospect of our soon setting out for unknown and more interesting regions. There had arrived Mohammed el Sfaksi, a man with whom Mr. Gagliuffi had entered into a sort of partnership for a commercial journey to Negroland, and whom he had supplied with a tolerable amount of merchandise; and in the afternoon came the boat. The following day Yusuf Mukni, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter, came with the rest of the luggage, so that gradually everything fell into its right place, and nothing was now wanting but the Tuarek chiefs to set our whole body in regular motion. We therefore procured a load of dates from Aghár, and, getting everything ready, roused our spirits for the contemplation of novelties and the encountering of difficulties; for the latter could certainly not be wanting where the former were at hand.

June 19.—While the greater part of the caravan took the direct road to the well Sháraba, Mr. Overweg and I, with the remainder, chose the road to Tessáwa, or rather, more accurately, Tasáwa; but though our party formed but a small body of people, yet it presented a very animated spectacle. The lazy Arab mode of letting the camels go singly, as they like, straggling about right and left, strains and fatigues the traveller’s attention; but his mind is stimulated and nerved to the contemplation of great distances to be traversed when he sees a long line of camels attached one to the other, and led by a man at a steady pace without any halt or interruption. As for myself, riding my own méheri, I was quite at liberty to go before or fall behind, just as the circumstances of the road called for observation, or presented something worthy of attention.

Having passed some tolerably deep sand-hills accumulated in the wady, we obtained a sight of an advanced spur of the plantation of Aghár to our left, when the ground became firm, and the country more open. Then, keeping along the southern border of the principal plantation, we passed the village and our former camping-ground, and having left further on some deserted villages and a few scattered huts of palm-leaves, still inhabited, a little on one side, about noon we again entered a sandy region with a few detached palm-groups. Here I observed a specimen of a very rare sort of bifurcated or divided palm-tree (not the dúm, which is generally so), with two distinct tufts hanging down on the opposite sides: this is the only specimen I ever saw. We then passed the village of Tasáwa, which, with its clay walls and towers, looks much more considerable from afar than it appears when viewed from among the deserted houses within it; still it is one of the more wealthy and important places in the country. A little beyond it we encamped on the open sandy ground, when, as our small tent had by mistake gone on in advance, and our large tent was too bulky to be pitched for one night’s rest, we contrived a very tolerable airy shade with our carpets.

We had scarcely made ourselves comfortable, when we received the joyful news that Hatíta, with two sons of Sháfo, had just arrived from Ghát, and were about to call on us. Their arrival of course had now become a matter of the utmost importance, as Mr. Richardson had made his mind up not to start without them, though it might have been clear, to every one well acquainted with the state of things in the interior, that their protection could not be the least guarantee for our favourable reception and success in the country of Aïr or Asben, inhabited and governed by an entirely distinct tribe. And, on the other hand, the arrival of these chiefs made our relation to Mohammed Bóro extremely disagreeable, for, after waiting so long for us, he now clearly saw that Mr. Gagliuffi, in declaring that we relied entirely on him for our success, while we were in fact placing ourselves wholly at the disposal of the chiefs of Ghát, was only trifling with him. He therefore flew into a violent passion, threatening openly before the people that he would take care that we should be attacked on the road by his countrymen; and these were not empty threats.

After a hot day followed a very fine evening, with a beautifully clear moonlight; and cherishing the fervent hope that, with the assistance of the Almighty, I should succeed in my dangerous undertaking, I lay down in the open encampment, and listened with hearty sympathy to the fervent prayers of the Tinýlkum, which in melodious cadence, and accompanied with the sound há, há, sometimes in a voice of thunder, at others in a melancholy unearthly plaint, were well adapted to make a deep impression upon the mind, the tall palm-trees forming majestic groups, and giving a fanciful character to the landscape in the calm moonlight.

It is a remarkable fact that, while the Mohammedan religion in general is manifestly sinking to corruption along the coast, there are ascetic sects rising up in the interior which unite its last zealous followers by a religious band. The particular sect to which belong the Tinýlkum, who in general are Máleki, has been founded by Mohammed el Médani, who established a sort of convent or oratory (zawíya) near Masráta, and endowed it with a certain extent of landed property, from the produce of which he fed many pilgrims. The best feature of this creed is the abolition of the veneration of dead saints, which has sullied in so high a degree the purity of Islám. Mohammed el Médani is said to have died a short time ago; but his son continues the pious establishment. It is a sort of freemasonry, and promises to make a great many proselytes. In Tasáwa also reside a few Tinýlkum, who, however, have been intimately intermixed with the Arabs, while the others in general keep their blood pure, and do not intermarry with the people of Fezzán.

Having assured ourselves that, owing to the arrival of the Tuarek chiefs, we should have to make some stay here, we determined to pitch our large tent early the next morning, while the chiefs had a long dispute with Mohammed eʾ Sfaksi, the subject of which I must relate, as it throws some light on the history and the present state of this country. The northern Tuarek, when they occupied the country round Ghát, established a sort of tribute, or gheráma, to be paid by merchants passing through their territory, and on payment of which the trader should be no further molested, but enjoy full protection. At that time the Masráta—a section of a very powerful Berber tribe—had made, as we shall see, a colonial settlement in Ágades, and, owing to their great power, commercial activity, and near connection with the Tuarek, were considered wholly exempt from any tribute, while the inhabitants of Tunis, who seem to have exhibited the jealousy or hostility of the great lords of the desert, were subjected to the highest personal exaction, viz. ten dollars a head. Now Gagliuffi’s partner was a native of Sfákes; but having long resided in Masráta, he insisted upon being free from tribute, like the inhabitants of the latter place; but our friends were not to be cheated out of their right, and made him pay as a Tunisian.

Having settled this little business, they came to us. There were Hatíta Inek (the son of) Khóden of the Manghásatangh, Utaeti (the eldest son of Sháfo), a younger son of the latter, and several more. The first, who had enjoyed the friendship of Captain Lyon, behaved throughout like a man well acquainted with Europeans; but Utaeti conducted himself like a strict Tarki, neither showing his face nor speaking a single word. Hatíta expressed the wish that we should not proceed until he returned from Múrzuk, where he assured us he would remain but a very short time; and we engaged to do our best to keep back the camel-drivers, who were but little inclined to stay here long. In consequence of this state of things, I determined to return to the town, in order to ascertain the terms entered into between the parties; and accordingly, starting at five in the evening, and resting a few hours after midnight in Zerghán, I reached Múrzuk on Friday morning at seven o’clock. I found that Mr. Gagliuffi had been very ill during the hot weather of the last few days; but to-day he was fortunately a little better.

Having waited in vain for the chiefs the whole of Saturday, we received a visit from them on Sunday, when they appeared in the finery with which they had been dressed by Mustapha Bey, but would not come to any terms; and it was not till Monday, when they took up their residence in the house belonging formerly to Mukni, but now to the Wakíl of Borno, that they concluded an arrangement. The sum which they then received would have been moderate, had they undertaken to see us safe under the protection of Annur, the chief of the Kél-owí. I urged, with Mr. Gagliuffi, the necessity of having a written copy of the agreement; but to this the chief would not listen, and thus confessed that there was really no distinct contract, as we had been given to understand, to the effect that Utaeti should not leave us till he had committed us to the care of the chief, Annur.

This business being concluded, I was in great haste to return to Tasáwa, and starting immediately afterwards, at one o’clock in the afternoon, arrived at our tent a little before midnight. Our tent, indeed, was still there; but all the Tinýlkum (Músa alone excepted), and all our things, were gone on, and Overweg and I were obliged to follow the next day without waiting for Mr. Richardson.

Accordingly, on the 25th of June we left Tasáwa, and after having crossed some sand-hills, entered upon harder soil, with ethel-bushes crowning the little hills,—the whole scene making the impression that a considerable current of water had at one period flowed along here and carried away the soil, which had once extended to the top of the hills. The whole district, which is a narrow and very long strip of land, affording a little herbage for cattle and sheep, bears the name of Wady Aberjúsh, or Berjúsh, and soon exhibits a more pleasant character; the encircling borders increase a little in height, while the sand ceases and a great deal of herbage begins to cover the soil. But after about another hour’s march, we entered upon pebbly ground like that of the Hammáda, and continued descending through a bare country till we reached the well Sháraba, where we encamped a little to the north, near a talha-bush. It is an open well, only three feet below the surface of the ground, which here forms a very remarkable hollow, almost six hundred feet below the level of Múrzuk, but nevertheless contains water only for two or three months in the year. It is, however, evident that in case of heavy rains a large pond or lake must be temporarily formed here by the torrent, which, sweeping along Wady Berjúsh, finds no outlet.

Towards evening the locality was enlivened for a short time by a small slave-caravan, led by Mohammed Trumba, or ʿAkerút, an active, energetic man, whom I met several times in the course of my travels, and incurred some obligation towards him, as it was he who, on my setting out from Zinder to Timbúktu in the beginning of 1853, brought me a supply of one thousand dollars, without which I could scarcely have succeeded in my undertaking. He had come in only sixty-five days from Zinder, and thirty-three from Asben, having been obliged to pursue his journey as fast as possible, because, owing to the expedition of the Kél-owí against the Welád Slimán, provisions were very scarce in Asben. He estimated the number of fighting men who had gone on that expedition at seven thousand, and stated that the Tuarek were acting in concert with the Dáza, a tribe of Tébu, whose real name is Búlgudá. He stated that eʾ Núr (or Annur, as the name is pronounced), the chief of the Kél-owí, was at present in Tasáwa (that is to say, the town of that name on the borders of Negroland), but would soon return to Asben. He confirmed the report of plenty of rain having fallen in the desert, in consequence of which the wells were full; but he begged me to beware of the cold during the nights, which he represented as very intense. He had twenty-three female slaves with him and only five camels, and hastened on to Tasáwa, in order to obtain dates for his famished people.

June 26.—Owing to the camels having strayed, it was very late when we left our encampment, and entered a sort of flat valley, from which we ascended to a higher level. From this we obtained a distant glance, towards the west-south-west, of the ruins of a fortress called Kasr Sháraba, the history of which, as it is connected with the struggles of yore between the Tébu and the inhabitants of Fezzán, would be full of interest, if it could be made out distinctly. Towards noon the country wore a more genial aspect, being adorned with several groups of palm-trees. We had to go round a rather steep hill, about three hundred and fifty feet high, from the summit of which I obtained an interesting view over the desert. The whole country presented a very irregular structure, and scarcely allowed the continuous line of the Wady Berjúsh to be traced by the eye, hills of considerable height and black pebbly tracts succeeding each other. Over such a desert we continued our march until, late in the afternoon, we reached a spot where the sight of a true wady, full of herbage and bordered by a strip of talha-trees, gladdened our hearts, and we encamped. It was a pleasant open ground; and the night being cool and refreshing, we felt very much invigorated when we rose the next morning to continue our march.

The talha-trees continued; but the herbage was principally limited to resú, an herb which has a very strong taste, and is not relished by camels for any length of time. The green strip took an irregular, winding course, sometimes approaching the sand-hills which we had always on our left at a certain distance, sometimes keeping more to our right; and Músa, our grave but cheerful camel-driver, dwelt in terms of the highest praise on the great superiority of this wady, which he said is joined by as many as a hundred smaller branches. It evidently forms the natural high road between Fezzán and the western desert, and about a month ago must have exhibited a more varied aspect, enlivened as it then was by a considerable torrent sweeping along it. In the afternoon we saw several spots where the eddying stream had formed itself a bed about five feet deep, and had turned up the ground all around; the crust of mire which covered the bed of the torrent had not yet dried. We encamped on a pleasant spot called Hamáwa, without pitching our tent, so delighted were we to enjoy the fresh air of the desert. Here we were joined by a man from Tasáwa, who wanted to seize a debtor who had attached himself to Bóro’s party in order to make his escape into Sudán—a practice very common with the people of Fezzán. By repeated measuring with our chain, we had found that, on tolerably even ground, our ordinary rate as the Tawárek travel was half an English geographical mile in thirteen minutes. It is the general custom of these people, who do not allow their camels to feed on the march, to leave them the whole night on the pasture, and not to fetch them till morning, for which reason they never start very early, and often at a rather late hour.

June 28.—About an hour after we had begun our march along the line of green herbage, we came to a temporary well called Ahitsa, containing very fine rain-water, but only for a period of about two months in the year. Having filled two of our water-skins, we continued our march, and soon, to our great joy, got sight of two white tents, belonging the one to Mohammed Bóro, the other to Mohammed eʾ Sfaksi, and pointing out to us the encampment of the caravan. It had been pitched on open ground, in the midst of the strip of green herbage, and surrounded with a rich border of talha-trees. The place offered good pasture for the camels; and a small encampment of other Tinýlkum not belonging to our caravan, but merely pasturing their camels and goats here, had been formed near the trees. The whole presented an animated picture. Our camel-drivers are said to possess, in the sand-hills bordering this valley on the south side, considerable stores of dates and corn, and to have taken from thence their supplies for the road. The whole character of this landscape appeared to me so peculiar that, the following morning before we started, I made a sketch of it from the elevated stony ground to the north of the channel, which here exhibited evident traces of a small waterfall formed by the heavy rains. Stones had been laid here in the form of a circle, as a place of prayer. The whole valley was about four miles broad; the locality is called Tesémmak.

When we started next morning, we formed a tolerably large party, with sixty-two camels, which were arranged in four strings, one of which consisted of thirty-three animals, each fastened to the tail of the preceding one. The valley was enlivened by a small herd of gazelles, which Overweg and I tried for a moment to pursue. Having passed a well called Tafiyúk, at a place where the sand-hills jut out into the valley, we encamped about half an hour beyond, near another well containing rain-water for a short time of the year, and called Em-éneza. Two branches of the wady unite here, and distinct traces of the great force of the last torrent remained in the broken condition of the ground.

Here we remained encamped for the two following days, in order to allow Mr. Richardson and the Azkár chiefs to come up. I spent the time sometimes writing and studying, at others roving about or musing while seated on some elevated rocks at the border of the rising ground. Músa was our constant visitor, and gave us all the information required, though he was not very intelligent. There had been some small differences between us and our camel-drivers, who, though in other respects not uncouth or uncivil, had, from religious principles, sometimes assumed a rather hostile position towards us. We now effected a general reconciliation, and there was every reason to believe that we should go on well with them.

July 2.—Being informed that our companions were near, we moved on a little, and at length got out of the eternal Wady Aberjúsh, with all its little side-branches, which are divided from the main wady by a gently rising ground covered with black pebbles. Then after a little we reached the Wady Eláwen, forming a broad depression running from the north, where it is joined by several branch channels descending from the plateau towards the sand-hills on the south, and encamped on its western side, between tall sebót shooting up from the sandy ground, and near some fine talha-trees. We soon discovered, to our great delight, that only two hundred paces above our encampment the floods, descending from the higher ground in two large branches, and carrying down with them bushes and brushwood in abundance, had formed a pond at present about 100 ft. long and 50 ft. broad, which contributed greatly to enliven the district. All the world was bathing and playing about the water; and flights of thirsty birds, of the kinds Numida and Pterocles, were hovering about, watching a favourable moment to come in for their share. Everywhere in the bottom of the valley there was water at a little depth; and we obtained excellent potations from a well dug by our people close below our tents.

About five o’clock in the afternoon we were at length joined by Mr. Richardson and the chiefs of the Azkár; but the unsatisfactory way in which the business had been concluded with these chiefs in Múrzuk led to a break-up sooner even than I had suspected. The next evening Hatíta summoned us to a divan, and declared distinctly that he required a month’s time to make the necessary preparations for the journey to Aïr. Hence it would be necessary for us to separate from the caravan, and, taking our luggage with us to Ghát, to hire or buy other camels there. In reply to this unjust and absurd demand, we declared that we had no other choice but to follow the direct Sudán road in the company of the caravan, and that it was our firm intention at any rate not to lose more than seven days in Ghát. Hatíta having left us rather dissatisfied at our decision, our servants, who would gladly have idled away one or two months in Ghát as they had done in Múrzuk, insolently told us that we were very much mistaken in thinking that the road to Aïr was in any degree open to us, for it would first be necessary to send a courier to ask the permission of the chiefs of that country to enter it, and we must wait for the answer.

While remaining firm in our resolution, we of course consented to go to Ghát, and tried at the same time to come to some final arrangement with our camel-drivers, promising them a small allowance for every day they should wait for us. They at length promised to spend ten days on the way to Arikím, a well three days’ march south from Ghát, where they would wait six days, and then go on directly to Aïr. Attacking the old chief, therefore, on his weakest side, we sent him word the next morning that, as we had but little money with us, he would not succeed in getting anything of value from us, if he should try to keep us in Ghát for any length of time; and I insisted, with Yusuf Mukni, upon the dishonesty of the chief’s conduct, in trying to make an entirely new bargain after he had got all he demanded. His answer was satisfactory; and with the fervent hope that we should not be baffled in our attempt to discover new regions and new tribes of men, we left the further development of the affair to time.

While these disputes were going on, I employed my leisure hours in roving about our encampment, in different directions, up and down the valley. The eastern of the two branches, which by their junction form the valley, was peculiarly rich in herbage, and commanded by a hill starting up from the plateau, which afforded a very interesting view around, though this was almost surpassed by the prospect from a mound a little to the west-south-west of our tent. The lower part of the valley was more diversified by numerous branches, which joined it on the south-east side. One of these, which was bordered by high ridges of sandstone, was evidently a favourite playground of the gazelles, the fresh footmarks of which chequered its sandy bottom like a net. Pursuing this direction, I approached the sand-hills which form the southern border of this whole district. Fatigued by my long walk, I was the more able in the evening to do full justice to our supper, which was diversified by a variety of birds that had been shot in the course of the day near the pond.

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IX. SINGULAR SCULPTURES IN THE DESERT.—THE MOUNTAIN-PASS

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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X. THE INDIGENOUS BERBER POPULATION

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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Chapter XI

CROSSING A LARGE MOUNTAIN RIDGE, AND ENTERING ON THE OPEN GRAVELLY DESERT.

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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XII. DANGEROUS APPROACH TO ASBEN

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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