XIII. INHABITED BUT DANGEROUS FRONTIER REGION…

XIII. INHABITED BUT DANGEROUS FRONTIER REGION

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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XIV. ETHNOGRAPHICAL RELATIONS OF AÍR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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XV. RESIDENCE IN TIN-TÉLLUST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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XVI. JOURNEY TO ÁGADES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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XVII. AGADES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In the name of God, etc.

“From the Emír of Ahír, ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan Mohammed el Bákeri, to the Emír of Dáura, son of the late Emír of Dáura, Is-hhák. The mercy of God upon the eldest companions of the Prophet, and His blessing upon the Khalífa; ‘Amín.’ The most lasting blessing and the highest wellbeing to you without end. I send this message to you with regard to a stranger, my guest, of the name of ʿAbd el Kerím, who came to me, and is going to the Emír el Mumenín [the Sultan of Sókoto], in order that, when he proceeds to you, you may protect him and treat him well, so that none of the freebooters and evil-doers may hurt him or his property, but that he may reach the Emír el Mumenín. Indeed, we wrote this on account of the freebooters, in order that you may protect him against them in the most efficacious manner. Farewell.”

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

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

“In the name of God, etc.

“From the Commander, the faithful Minister of Justice, the Sultan ʿAbd el Káder, son of the Sultan Mohammed el Bákeri, to the chiefs of all the tribe of Eʾ Núr, and Hámed, and Sëis, and all those among you who have large possessions, perfect peace to you.

“Your eloquence, compliments, and information are deserving of praise. We have seen the auxiliaries sent to us by your tribe, and we have taken energetic measures with them against the marauders, who obstruct the way of the caravans of devout people, and the intercourse of those who travel, as well as those who remain at home. On this account we desire to receive aid from you against their incursions. The people of the Kél-fadaye, they are the marauders. We should not have prohibited their chiefs to exercise rule over them, except for three things: first, because I am afraid they will betake themselves from the Aníkel [the community of the people of Aír] to the Awelímmiden; secondly, in order that they may not make an alliance with them against us, for they are all marauders; and thirdly, in order that you may approve of their paying us the tribute. Come, then, to us quickly. You know that what the hand holds it holds only with the aid of the fingers; for without the fingers the hand can seize nothing.

“We therefore will expect your determination, that is to say your coming, after the departure of the salt-caravan of the Itísan, fixed among you for the fifteenth of the month. God! God is merciful and answereth prayer! Come therefore to us, and we will tuck up our sleeves, and drive away the marauders, and fight valiantly against them as God (be He glorified!) hath commanded.

“Lo, corruption hath multiplied on the face of the earth! May the Lord not question us on account of the poor and needy, orphans and widows, according to His word: ‘You are all herdsmen, and ye shall all be questioned respecting your herds, whether ye have indeed taken good care of them or dried them up.’

“Delay not, therefore, but hasten to our residence, where we are all assembled; for ‘zeal in the cause of religion is the duty of all;’ or send thy messenger to us quickly with a positive answer; send thy messenger as soon as possible. Farewell!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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XVIII. HISTORY OF ÁGADES

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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