To-day some wild-ox, bughar wahoush[60],— was brought in from The Desert. This is the hunting time, which lasts three months, and the flesh of this animal supplies a very good substitute for beef. Indeed, the animal is a species of buffalo, but very small, sometimes not much larger than a good-sized English sheep. They are hunted in the sands to the north-west by Souf Arabs, who are excellent hunters, and pursue the chase twenty days together through the sandy regions. People pretend the bughar wahoush does not drink; perhaps they don't drink much. But both the wild ox and the aoudad are occasionally caught near the wells, a sufficient proof they sometimes drink water. I cooked some, and found it of excellent flavour. People call this animal also medicine. I purchased half of one to salt for my journey to Ghat, but spoilt it by too much salting. The salt ate away all the flesh from the bones. I neglected the advice of Said, who assured me people salt meat very little in Soudan. Indeed, they frequently cut the meat into strips and dry it in the sun without salting. In this way caravans are provisioned over The Desert. I ate some, and found it very good. My Arab friend, the old doctor, brought me a small prickly shrub, which he calls El-Had, , and says it has powerful purgative qualities, purging even the camels. It abounds in The Sahara.

We, The Desert Quack and English Quack, bandy compliments together.

Desert Quack.—"Whilst you are here, you are the Sublime Doctor (Ettabeeb Elâttheem)." [As much as to say, "When you are not here, I am The Sublime Doctor."]

English Quack.—"How? No, you are always The Sublime Doctor. I am at your disposal. I am your slave."

Desert Quack.—"Impossible! Haram, it is prohibited. You are the wise doctor, you know all things."

English Quack.—"How many people have you killed by your physic?"

Desert Quack [surprised at this abrupt and impertinent question].—"God forefend that I should kill any one! But sometimes Rubbee (God) takes away my patients, and sometimes they get better. But whether they die or live, people always say, 'It is written (predestined).'"

I then related the story of Gil Blas, who bled to death the rich lady, under the precepts of Dr. San Grado, and was challenged in mortal combat by the suitor of the fair dame. On which he observed, "Gil Blas was a dog. I trust the other man killed him. Here we bleed, but we always know when blood enough is left in a man to keep him alive."

"How do you know that?" I replied.

The Taleb.—"1st. I see if he sinks down. 2nd. I ask Rubbee. 3rd. Sometimes the Jenoun (demons) tell me. 4th. If he dies, what matter? Is it not the will of God?"

19th.—Great preparations are now going on for the departure of the ghafalah to Ghat and Soudan. An order has come from the Pasha, that the Rais may take 2,500 instead of 3,250, less 750. This the people must pay. And I hear the poor wretches have at last consented to swallow the bitter pill. Every man, having a small property, or a householder, will pay each five mahboubs; the merchants considerably more. A little by little, till the vitals of this once flourishing oasis are torn out, and it becomes as dead as The Desert around it.

20th.—This morning a slave ghafalah arrives from Ghat with forty slaves. Two escaped en route. What could the poor creatures do in The Desert? They must have perished very soon. The ghafalah brings important news. The Shânbah, 700 strong, had been ravaging the country of the Ghat Touaricks, and had murdered thirty-seven people. The Touaricks were arming, and in pursuit of the Shânbah assassins. Besides this, the Shânbah have captured a Ghadamsee ghafalah, escorted by Touaricks, not respecting a jot the Maraboutish character of this city. It consisted of thirty camels, laden mostly with the property of our merchants. Sheikh Makouran himself lost 2,000 mahboubs. Total loss for the merchants here is about 15,000 dollars. It is the caravan which left these two months ago, and took a letter for me to the Governor of Ain Salah. Both letters have been unlucky; the one sent to Ghat could not be delivered because the Governor was changed; and this one, I imagine, has fallen into the hands of the Shânbah. Two slaves escaped with a water-skin. They then fell in with some Touaricks, who gave them a little bread, and in this dreadful plight they got to Ghat. One died after his arrival. What became of the Touaricks is not yet known. They are probably massacred. I made the acquaintance of these luckless Touaricks, and gave them some medicine to take to Touat. In this foray the Shânbah killed a little child of three years old. When they struck down a man, they ripped open his belly and left him. These Shânbah banditti (who, to my surprise, are lauded in the French works published by the Minister of War, as the most enterprising camel-drivers and merchants in The Sahara,) are, without doubt, what the people say here, the vilest and most bloodthirsty miscreants in The Desert. How strange it is they are Arabs! It is always the Arab, who is the most thorough-going, hereditary, eternal robber of The Desert! Is it because we read, "And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him?" The disposition for brigandage in the soul of the Arab was a proverb of Jewish antiquity. So we have, , "As the Arabian in the Wilderness." My Arabic translation, which was done by the Missionaries of the Roman Church, follows some of the ancient versions, and renders it "like the thief in the Desert" (See Jeremiah iii. 2.) Still, Mr. D'Israeli thinks there's nothing like Arab blood, if we read aright his "Tancred," and would have us regenerate the old effete race of Europe by this fiery and bloodthirsty Oriental barbarian, as the Arabian stallion improves our dull race of horses. It is reported, in town, "When the Shânbah cut to pieces the thirty-seven Touaricks, one man was left untouched amidst the slaughter, owing his safety to his Ajab, (amulets), which he wore in great profusion." This lucky charm-clad fellow saw the whole business from first to last, unmoved amidst the commingled cries of the victims and their slaughterers, and made a full report to the Touarghee chiefs. Talking to Rais about this slaughter, his Excellency observed, in the spirit of true Turkish policy, "So much the better. Let the Touaricks and Shânbah slaughter one another, as long as we are left unharmed. The less of them the better for us." So the Turks have always dealt with the quarrels of the Arab tribes in Barbary, rather blowing up the flames of their discord than pacifying them. The Shânbah drove away a thousand camels, besides sheep and oxen, from the Touarick districts. The merchants are all frightened enough, and our departure is deferred, notwithstanding that the slave caravan met with no accident. The Shânbah have now got their booty and revenge, and will probably decamp and leave the route clear for us. Common misfortunes often make friends of enemies. I saw Sheikh Makouran and Mohammed Ben Mousa Ettanee, the two principal merchants representing the factions of Weleed and Wezeet, very busy in conversation upon the neutral ground of the market-place, talking over their mutual losses. Both have lost property to a great amount by this Shânbah irruption.

21st.—The departure of the ghafalah is deferred to the 24th. Rais is busy in comparing the papers of the merchants with the goods arrived from Tripoli. These ill-used merchants pay 13 per cent. for exporting their goods from Tripoli to the interior. The same goods have already paid 5 per cent. when imported into Tripoli by the European merchants. There is then the profit of our Ghadamsee merchants, and the profit of native merchants, and the merchants and the manufacturers in Europe. At what price, then, above their intrinsic value, are those goods sold to the merchants of Central Africa? A hideous thing is this system of transit duties!

22nd.—Weather is cold, everybody wraps up. People sit two or three hours together out of doors in the morning before they'll stir. I ask them, "Why don't you move about,—you would be then warm?" They answer, "Mzl shemtz" (no sun yet). Rais is excessively gracious: he gave me a small loaf of white sugar. I had none left, and the gift came in the nick of time when required. I have said so much about Rais Mustapha, that I must now give a personal description of his Excellency, before I take leave of him and of Ghadames. First of all, Rais is not a military man; he is a civil servant of the Porte, and receives his pay direct from the Sultan. The Turks often employ a civil servant where we should expect to see a military man, as in this distant Saharan post, and find it to their advantage. The Governor for military advice usually writes to the Commandant of The Mountains. His Excellency rarely reads, but writes constantly, and is very expert in accounts, his principal occupation being the collecting of small monies. His Excellency is also fond of collecting coins of different Mussulman States. The reader has seen that he is very attentive to his religious duties, and is quite, if not superior "marabout odour." His Excellency scarcely ever punishes anybody, beats his slaves seldom, but can be very despotic when he pleases. Like most Turks, he has a smack of bad faith in him, and made the Souf Arabs pay the duty on the goods in their possession, though he promised people he would not. We may suppose he is very badly off for money; perhaps his own salary is not very regularly paid. His Excellency always behaved very well when I purchased any corn of him. He is generally esteemed by the people. In person the Rais is exceeding tall, above a convenient height; he is about forty years of age, with strongly-marked Turkish features, and a large aquiline nose. His limbs are heavy and large, but since his residence here he has lost all his flesh. He dresses in the common dress of Ottoman functionaries. I often found him chatty and facetious, but sometimes he was sulky and morose, and would not speak for hours together. He had a fine horse, but rarely could be prevailed upon to go out and ride for his health. Every great man has his shadow, his echo, the expression of himself more or less in his fellow men. The Rais's shadow is one Abd Errahman, a small merchant. His sons call their father souwa-souwa ("like-like") with the Rais. Abd Errahman knew the Rais's most secret thoughts, and he was the only Ghadamsee in whom the Rais could entirely confide. Abd Errahman swore by the Governor's head, and was his most obedient humble servant.

Sheikh Makouran is occupied in purchasing me an outfit of Moorish costume for the The Desert. He is very slow, but he gets them cheaper than if I bought them myself. He purchases one thing one day, and another thing the next day, and all from different persons. This is the way here. Attempted myself to purchase two turbans, one for myself and one for Said, but I found it no easy matter. The owner asked three dollars each, alleging that the turbans had been "blessed at Mecca[61]." I refused to give this price, and it was agreed to wait till the Sheikh came. This was decided by a council of the people, against the wish of the owner, who objected to waiting. At length the Sheikh made his appearance. Nothing was said about the price, for every one knew they must abide by the Sheikh's decision. The Sheikh after examining the turbans, said to the seller, "Let them be sold for one dollar each." The owner began to exclaim against this decision, but the Sheikh stopped his mouth!—"This is our friend (habeebna). Do you wish to rob him? Is this your kindness to a stranger, who has lived with us so long, and whom we all love?" These words were uttered with the greatest energy, and silenced every objection. I paid the money, and a quarter of a dollar more for mine. Without exception, the Sheikh was the most just and kindest man I met with in Ghadames, and yet he had the reputation of being close-fisted in money matters. He refused to receive any rent for his house in which I lived, and when I left he ordered a quantity of cakes to be made for me, which he brought me himself. They were very nice, made of butter, and honey, and dates, and lasted me all the way to Ghat. Makouran pressed the Rais to write for me to the Touarick authorities of Ghat; but his Excellency could not without an order from Tripoli. I am under very great obligations to the Sheikh, who behaved like a father to me in a land of strangers. His brother was kindness itself, but had not the spirit of the Sheikh. His eldest son, Haj Besheer, was also a very kind and upright young man. Haj Besheer has immense influence with the Touaricks, and if he had gone with me to Ghat, nothing would have happened. His principal connexions are in Touat, and I really think that an European, going with letters from him to one of his Touarghee friends, might make the journey to Timbuctoo in safety. Sheikh Makouran took me to-day before the Rais and Kady, and in their presence a long "Testimonial" of the people of Ghadames was drawn out in Arabic, stating that during the time I had resided in Ghadames I had conducted myself well, and given no offence to any one. This was signed by the Kady, on behalf of all the people, in presence of the Rais and the Nather and several other officers. I was requested to countersign it, which I did with these words: "I have remained three months in Ghadames, and now leave it with great personal satisfaction to myself, and in peace with all the inhabitants." A copy of this I made for the Kady to keep in Ghadames. The "Testimonial" itself was sent to Colonel Warrington, through the Pasha, who either did not forward it to the Colonel, or it has been mislaid or lost, for it cannot now be found in the Consulate Archives. The people of Ghadames were determined to give me this testimonial in order that the Turkish authorities should not hereafter bring any accusation against me. It was dated the 24th, or the day fixed for departure.

The Rais astonished me to-day, by telling me, he had bastinadoed twice my taleb, Ben Mousa, for dishonesty. I absolutely thought the Rais was joking, for the Rais and the taleb seemed always pretty good friends. I knew Ben Mousa was not extremely delicate, and would sometimes sit down with Said and eat his dinner away from him. I inquired of the turjeman about it, who assured me it was no joke, and that Ben Mousa had been twice bastinadoed for borrowing things and not returning them. I was extremely sorry to hear this, for I had been greatly assisted by the taleb in obtaining information, and we had passed many long hours together. The taleb is a man of about fifty, extremely clever, and a pretty good scholar, and had formerly kept a school. Now he did nothing but calculate the water distribution or irrigation of the gardens. He wished to come with me to England, to work at translations and get a little fortune for his family. But whenever I told him that there were very learned Arabic scholars in England and France, he always answered, "They are concealed Moslems;" that is to say, afraid to confess Mahomet before the Christians, or seeking to convert Christians. From time to time I gave the taleb a few presents and a little money, as also the turjeman. This latter was a very different character. He mended skin bags for water, made shoes, white-washed houses, worked in the gardens, and made himself generally useful. He had some property, and his garden, the heritage of his ancestors, was one of the finest in the country. He was honest, but his defect was want of moral courage. The turjeman had lived a good while in Tunis, with some French, where he learned his Italian, and a few French words. He always said, "When I lived with the Christians, I drank wine like them." Some of the people, in a joke, would call him a Christian. He was a bad scholar, and very bitter against the Wahabites, whom he delighted to picture to himself in the pleasing predicament of carrying the Jews to hellfire on their backs. I myself one day had a quarrel with a Wahabite. The Wahabite called me a kafer. I retorted, "Why, what are you? You are nothing but a Wahabite." He was so angry that he was about to draw his knife at me, when the people seized hold of him, and one of my friends knocked him down.

Rais heard of the affair, and said as he was a foreign Arab he should leave the oasis. He came afterwards to me to beg my pardon, and I gave him some coffee to make him merry. He then told me all about the Wahabites, not forgetting to abuse all the other sects. He said the Arabs of his mountain had no objection to the Turks if they would become Wahabites. He was also of the Abadeeah, "white-caps," and declaimed against the "red"-capped Wahabites. The controversy is as nearly as possible the same as that of our white and black-gowned clergy of the Established Church, introduced by the Puseyites.

Begin now to have some trouble with Said. He gets sulky and saucy, and sometimes says he will stop in Ghadames and eat dates. I am obliged to box his ears. Then he gets very frightened at the Touaricks, and begins to blubber, "I shall be made a slave again, and you yourself will be killed." Then he would complain that the Rais's servants and slaves had better clothes than himself. I always found it was the better way to let him have a sfogo, or "vent," for his temper, and afterwards he was himself again. He never could keep a para in his pocket, but would give his money to the first person who would ask him for it. I am obliged to buy him snuff every week, and a stock for the journey. With this he is accustomed to treat everybody, and is therefore very popular. Even the Governor thinks him the best Negro he ever knew. As is natural enough, he is a great favourite amongst the Negresses, and even amongst the Touarick ladies. I found him crying one day, and asked,—

"Said, what's the matter?"

"I now recollect my wife whom I left in Jerba," he sighed out.

Before this, I didn't know he was married; he was about thirty years of age. My turjeman and Said were two great cronies, and they discussed all the town's affairs in general, and everybody's affairs in particular. At first, I had not the remotest idea Said had so much wit, and was pleased to hear his remarks and criticisms. One of these was capital, and had a particular reference to his own case. He stared at me, observing, "We can't put the slave-trade down whilst the Jews in Tripoli lend the merchants here goods to carry it on." He was so fond of the turjeman that, on leaving Ghadames, he gave him all the money he had, and said to me when I scolded him, "We don't want any money in The Desert," adding, "Where are the shops?"

23rd.—Bought a camel this morning, a nagah, , or "she-camel," for 25 dollars. Rais would have the honour of choosing the camel, but it was scarcely worth the money. I hired another camel to carry a portion of the baggage. Rais told me the Pasha had offered to the Touaricks to equip an expedition, in conjunction with them, against the Shânbah, but the Touaricks would not accept of the aid, being determined to fight their own battles in their own way. They might have thought that after the Pasha had destroyed the Shânbah, he would have turned his arms against them.

24th.—We are all confusion in getting off. It is late in the afternoon. I have loaded the nagah, and disposed of my baggage; I have bid a hundred people farewell, shaking them by the hands. We are surrounded with the whole male population of the city, and half-caste women. Rais is galloping about to see the people off. But a group of people is now seen forming rapidly round a man and a boy, and a camel just come in from The Desert with a load of wood, "What's the matter?" "The Shânbah! the Shânbah!" people shout from detachment to detachment of the ghafalah. The confusion of parting is succeeded by the terror and rushing back of the people. The advanced party abruptly returns upon the party immediately behind it, and all rush back to the gates of the city, one running over the other. Rais appears amongst them to calm the consternation. "What's the matter?" His Excellency is too much agitated to answer the question. I find Sheik Makouran. "What's the matter?" "The man and the boy just come in saw twenty-five Shânbah mounted on camels, and the ghafalah cannot go. Rais is going to send out a scout, a Senawanee, to see if it be the Shânbah, and then all the people are to arm and go out against the robbers." A pretty kettle of fish, thought I. The Governor then sent a man down to me, to come and sleep for the night in his house. All the merchants return, but the camels and a few men remain outside, close by the gate. A number of soldiers are sent round the city, and the Senawanee mounted on a maharee, goes off in the direction where the Shânbah had been seen, the Rais accompanying him a short distance. On his return, the Rais bitterly complained of the merchants not furnishing him immediately with camels. It was some time before he could get the scout off. I went up a mound outside of the city to see the scout "out of sight." As the white form of the maharee was disappearing in the glare of the sand, I admired the bravery of the Senawanee, who thus defied single-handed a troop of robbers, bearding them in their very ambush.

We waited with intense anxiety the return of the scout. Many people got upon the walls to look out. At length, at noon the 25th, a single camel was descried on the dull red glare of the Saharan horizon. This was the Senawanee. A number of people ran to him. "Where are the Shânbah?" "Where?" "Shânbah?" The messenger said nothing—he was dumb. A crowd gets round him—he's still dumb. He enters the Rais's hall of conference, and squats down in the presence of his Excellency. He speaks now, and calls for coffee. The Rais gets furiously agitated at the moment of breaking silence. The scout very calmly sips off his coffee, and strokes down his beard, and then deigned to satisfy Governor, Kady, officers, and the men, women, and children, who were now pressing upon him with dreadful agitation. "Oh, Bey! (raising himself from the floor, fixing his eyes now on the Bey, and now on the people, and putting his fore-finger of the right hand on the thumb of the left)—I went to the sand. I got there when the sun was gone down. The camel lay down, and so did I lay down on the sand. We watched all night. I fear no one but God!—(Here was a general hum of approbation.)—Two hours before the fidger, (break of day) I looked up and saw pass by me, at a distance of from here to The Spring, nine Bughar (wild-bullocks). They came and went, and went and came, snuffing up the sand and bellowing. The man and the boy, who cut the wood yesterday, saw the Bughar. But the wild oxen are not the Shânbah!" As soon as he mentioned the Bughar, the people rushing out of the Bey's apartment, ran away, and before I could get my dinner, a portion of the ghafalah was on the move. The Rais said to me, "Get off, make haste—make haste." I then went down to load the nagah again, but found it very difficult; seeing the other camels passing on, she would not stop to be laden. At length my turjeman came and arranged all. Said observed that the obstinacy of the nagah was a bad omen. His Excellency the Governor came to see me off, and gave me an affectionate shake of the hands. I then met his confidential man Abd-Errahman, who said to me, "Rais has given you in charge of all the people of the ghafalah, (about sixty persons"). This was kind of the Governor, and better, perhaps, than being in the charge of one individual. But still I couldn't help thinking, that what is many persons' business is nobody's business. The turjeman accompanied us some distance, chatting with Said. He carried with him a quantity of date-tree fibrous netting, and was twisting bands as he followed us. We soon parted. I then passed my old friend the good-natured Arab doctor. His parting blessing spoke the native goodness of his heart: "Day cool, route wide, route Fezzan, ghafalah large, Shânbah there are none—God bless you, farewell!"

I began to breathe at once the free air of the open Desert. As is my wont, I now committed my spirit to the care of God Almighty, leaving my body to the care of the wild tribes of these inhospitable wastes. And why not? Why distrust them? Have not the people hitherto treated me with great and unexpected kindness? And is it not the first step to make strangers your enemies, to distrust them?

FOOTNOTES:

[58] They call all other languages in the world Ajem——a distinction like that of Jew and Gentile, only applied to language instead of persons.

[59] Sale says:—"Mahomet here and elsewhere frequently imitates the truly inspired writers, in making God to operate on the minds of reprobates, to prevent their conversion." Impostors in all ages have charged the inefficacy of their novel mysteries upon the will of God. But these passages have had their use and humanity effects in the strife of contending religions. A Mahometan bigot, with sword in one hand and victim in the other, has often spared his life and his conversion by recollecting, "God had sealed up his heart and his hearing," so that he could not believe. The pride of the Moslem has also thus been content to leave matters in the hands of a predestinating deity.

[60] "Wild bullock:" The Bos Brachyceras, Gray.

[61] Turbans are sent to Mecca to be blest there, and by this blessing of course their value is greatly enhanced amongst the Moumeneen. Shrouds are also blessed at Mecca; and a rich Mahometan endeavours to procure one to wrap up his mortal remains. A considerable trade is carried on in blessed garments.



CHAPTER XIV.

FROM GHADAMES TO GHAT.

Character of the People of Ghadames.—Strength of our Caravan.—First features of the new Route.—Well of Maseen.—Rate of Travelling.—Our Ghafalah divides in two on account of the difficulty of obtaining Water for so large a Caravan.—Es-Srb, or The Mirage.—Gobemouche Politicians.—Camels, fond of dry Bones.—Geological Features of Plateau.—Desert Tombs and Tumuli Directors.—Intense cold of The Desert.—Well of Nather.—Savage Disposition of Camels.—Mr. Fletcher's advice to Desert Tourists.—No scientific instruments with me.—False alarm of Banditti, and meet a Caravan of Slaves.—Sight of the first tree after seven days' Desert.—Wells of Mislah in a region of Sand.—Vulgar error of Sand-storms overwhelming Caravans with billows of Sand.

MOUNTED on my camel, pressing on through The Desert, my thoughts still lag behind, and as I turn often to look back upon The City of Merchants and Marabouts, its palms being only now visible in the dingy red of the setting sun, I endeavour to form a correct opinion of its singular inhabitants. I see in them the mixture of the religious and commercial character, blended in a most extraordinary manner and degree, for here the possession of wealth scarcely interferes with the highest state of ascetic devotion. To a religious scrupulousness, which is alarmed at a drop of medicine that is prohibited falling upon their clothes, they add the most enterprising and determined spirit of commercial enterprise, plunging into The Desert, often in companies of only two or three, when infested with bandits and cut-throats, their journies the meanwhile extending from the shores of the Mediterranean to the banks of the Niger, as low down to the Western Coast as Noufee and Rabbah. But their resignation to the will of heaven is without a parallel. No murmur escapes them under the severest domestic affliction; whilst prayer is their daily bread. Besides five times a day, they never omit the extraordinary occasions. The aspirations of the older and retired men continue all the live-long day; this incense of the soul, rising before the altar of the Eternal, is a fire which is never extinguished in Ghadames! Their commercial habits naturally beget caution, if not fear. In The Desert, though armed, they have no courage to fight. Their arms are their mysterious playthings. Their genius is pacific and to make peace—they are the peacemakers of The Desert—and they always travel under the intrepid escort of their warlike Touarick friends and neighbours. Intelligent, instructed and industrious, they are the greatest friends of civilization in North Africa and the Great Desert. But upon such a people, falls as a blast of lightning, rending and shivering the fairest palm of the oasis, the curse of Turkish rule.

The force of our caravan consists of about eighty people, including strangers, and two hundred laden camels. Nearly all the people are armed, and some single individuals have two or three matchlocks, besides pistols and daggers. The character of the people are petty traders, commission agents, camel-drivers, and slaves. There are several Arabs, natives of Ghadames, Seenawan, and Derge, and five strangers from Souf. We have with us also three Touaricks. There may be half-a-dozen low women and female slaves distributed amongst the ghafalah. Respectable females scarcely ever travel in The Desert. I have only with me my negro servant Said. My large trunk and tent are conveyed by another camel; the nagah carries me, the provisions, and the rest of the baggage, going extremely well. Said walks with the servants, slaves, and camel-drivers. Two-thirds of the people are on foot. Started in tolerably good health and spirits, and increase my appetite every mile I ride. Feel no fatigue, of course, to-day, and trust I shall soon forget I'm travelling in The Sahara. There are many routes from Ghadames to Ghat, no less than four or five well-travelled desert tracts. Our present one is the more easterly, being skirted by the oasisian districts of Fezzan. None of these routes have been travelled before by an European. Our course to-day is directly east. We are now encamping at sun-set, and we have just lost sight of the palms of Ghadames. Alas! this will, I fear, be an everlasting farewell to the beautiful oasis, and the holy city of merchants.

26th.—Rose before sunrise. Morning cool and refreshing. We are to continue ten days in the route of Fezzan, then turn into that of Ghat, thus describing a sort of semicircle to get out of the forays of the Shânbah.

Course south-east. On the right ranges of low dull hills, with the same on the left, but at a greater distance. The road very good, fit for carriages, through the broad bed of a valley. Two great blocks of rock stand out on the surface which we traverse, one an oblong square, the other sugar-loaf, but flattened at the top.

Camel-drivers.—"Look at these brothers" (the two rocks.)

Myself.—"How! Are these brothers? They are not much like."

Camel-drivers.—"Yâkob, don't you know that one brother is born like the father, and the other like the mother?"

These huge blocks we had long in view, and approached and passed them just as a ship passes rocks on the sea-coast. So steady is our progress, so level our route. Ground strewn over with small flints and other sharp chips of stone. Saw nothing alive in The Desert but one solitary bird, which seemed lost in the illimitable waste. Passed the grave of one who had died in open desert, a small tumulus of stones marked the sad spot; passed also a few white-bleached camel's bones. Very cold, wind from north-east. Feel it more than the keenest winter's blast of Old England. Feel glad I took the advice of the Governor of Ghadames, and purchased a quantity of warm woollen clothing, heik, bornouse, and jibbah. "That route (Ghat) kills people with the cold," his Excellency observed.

27th.—Arrived at the well of Maseen, at 4 P.M. Much the same scenery as yesterday. The road good, not quite so stony as yesterday, and scattered over with pieces of very fine quartz and shining felspar. No sand in quantity, and a little herbage for camels. Wind as yesterday, but more of it. Maseen is a tolerably deep well, but the water is not very sweet. About it there are three or four stunted date-palms, and several shrubby sprouts, pointing the Saharan wayfarer to the well's site. One of the trees bore fruit this year, but the palm rarely bears fruit in open desert. No bird or animal of any sort seen to-day. The camels crop herbage en route as usual. On the whole, however, we proceed pretty quickly. I imagine about three miles the hour, for a man must walk a sharp pace to keep up well with the camels. Our people eat nothing in the morning; two or three, perhaps, may eat a cake and a few dates. They literally fast all day long and take their one meal at about seven in the evening. I can't support this, and take tea in the morning, besides munching dates at intervals through the day. Nay, I feel ravenous, under the influence of the bleak air of The Desert. About an hour before sunrise all the people get up and make large fires, warming their feet and legs, for these are mostly bare and are very sensible to the cold. I'm sorry I've been obliged to scold Said twice, once for running away from my camel after other people's, and once for rough and saucy language. But I must make the best of him; might easily get a worse servant. Glad the eldest son of the Sheikh Makouran has joined the caravan; he came riding after us this evening, attended with a Touarick, both mounted on maharees, well equipped and capable of scouring The Desert.

28th.—Some time before we got off this morning, on account of the difficulty of watering the camels. My nagah started off on the route of Fezzan about a mile and a half, and Said went another way in search of her. I was, therefore, obliged to fetch her myself, which was a considerable run through a hilly region. I found her alone wandering about. The she-camel strays more than the male-camel, and is more restless. As soon as I called to her she stopped, stood stock-still, and looked at me. Before the camels were all watered, the well of Mazeen was nearly dry and the water muddy. This is the reason large caravans have such difficulty in traversing The Desert, it often requiring several days to water a thousand camels. Here I recollected the justness of Napoleon's observation cited by French writers,—"That if Africa is to be invaded and conquered viâ The Great Desert, it must be done by small detached parties." For it is not that the wells do not afford a sufficiency of water for large caravans, but that they do not yield an immediate supply for numerous bodies, so as to enable their people to march in one compact whole. Here we were obliged to leave half the caravan, waiting for the running of the water, thus miserably dividing our strength in case of attack. Noticed one of the camels laden with a bale of goods, on which were European writing, viz., I. A. N. 6. The great merchants usually write the name of their firm under the designation of Oulad () "sons," for example, Oulad Makouran, "Sons of Makouran."

The advanced party, of which I was, unexpectedly left the route of Fezzan to the east, and turned sharp round to the south, through the gorge of a low mountain range, which we had had all along to the right. In this defile we proceeded an hour, but it had no natural opening at the end. We came at last to a very abrupt ascent of some hundred feet high, and mounted an elevated plateau. Once on the plateau, all was plain as far as the eye could see. The defile was tertiary formation, mere dull crumbling limestone; nothing in the shape and consistence of granite. We are now on the highway for Ghat, and it is said we shall arrive in fifteen days from the plateau. Saw on the plateau, for the first time of my life, the celebrated mirage, which our people call Watta, but the classic Arabic is Es-Sarab (). At first sight, I thought it was salt, for it flamed in the sun white, like a salt-pit, or lagoon. There appeared some low hills in the midst of the white lake. As we proceeded, I saw what appeared like white foam running from east to west, as the sea-surf chafing the shore. It then occurred to me that this might be the mirage; and so it turned out, for as we approached the phenomenon, it retired and disappeared. The character of the mirage was evidently affected by the wind, for the foam appeared to run from east to west with the wind. In some of the white flaming lakes, shrubs and reeds stood out, as we find in shallow pools. Some high hills appeared suspended in the air, veritable "castles in the air." The weather was dull, the sun sometimes hidden, and it was noon when the phenomena were most observable. At Mazeen a few small birds were hopping and chirping, and two large crows followed us upon the plateau; also a butterfly and a few flies. These are the living creatures noticed to-day.

The plateau, where I now write, is either covered with very small stones, some quite black, and others calcined or burnt, like brick-bats thrown from a kiln, or is altogether hardened and black earthy soil. The latter assists the mirage, for the phenomenon appears mostly on the earthy tracts of ground. In some parts is herbage for the camels. On the plateau we saw several small mounds of soft brown stone, crumbling to earth, which looked like Arab hovels at a distance. I went up to undeceive myself. These curious mounds have yet to crumble away before the plateau is a perfect plane. Course to-day mostly south, with a leaning to the west. Wind cold S.E. and E. The day as dull and dreary as in England. Our people occasionally mount the maharees, which look very haughty and imposing. A maharee would be a noble present for the Sultan of the Touaricks to send to the Queen.

Was surprised this morning at a question, as "To whom Tripoli belonged?" to the English or the Sultan (of Constantinople). I find there is a vague notion amongst our ghafalah that Tripoli is either really the property of the English, or under the immediate protection of England. "Just the same," say the people. They prefer the late tyrant Bashaw, Asker Ali, to the present Mehemet, because Asker Ali, they say, did not fleece them so much or so plunder them of their money. 'Tis natural enough. One of the lower fellows had the impudence to say, "The English Consul receives bribes from Mehemet Pasha to let him remain in Tripoli." These people are great gobemouches; they always report the most incredible things. A trader said to me, "When you get to Soudan you must marry two wives; this is our custom." I replied, "I never do anything out of my country, and apart from my countrymen, which I should be ashamed to do at home in their presence." Some of these Desert louts are very familiar and insolent, and require sharp answers to keep them at a distance. I must not forget to mention, the Rais put my passport en règle for Soudan. A more monstrous piece of absurdity could not be attempted against the virtue of the free and simple-minded children of The Desert. Such documents are only fit for our elevated Christian civilization, for countries like Naples, France, and Austria, the hot-beds of spies and police. When I showed my passport to the Touaricks, and explained to them what it was for, they very indignantly (and properly so) spat on it.

29th.—Not a living creature was met with to-day. Our camels found the "dry bones" of camels perished in The Desert; they munched them with gusto, a piece of cannibalism on the part of these melancholy creatures which I was not prepared for. Dr. Oudney remarks, "The latter (camels) are very fond of chewing dried bones." In some parts of the routes, mostly where the water-stations are distant, and where they drop from exhaustion before reaching the wells, camels' bones lie in such heaps as to suggest, the Vision of the Dry Bones of Ezekiel.

We started with the rising sun and continued till four o'clock P.M. A strong S. and S.E. wind blew all day, and very cold, parching my lips and mouth. This wind would have a veritable burning simoon in the summer! We traversed all day the plateau, now become an immeasurable plain. It slightly undulates in parts, but I think we continued to ascend. Some of the surface is wholly naked, having neither herbage or stones scattered about, being of a softish clayey soil, and printed in little diamond squares, like the dry bottom of a small lake on the sea-shore. This, I doubt not, is the action of the rain, which falls at long intervals. Other parts presented the usual black calcined stones, and sometimes pieces of the common limestone and pebbles, but not very round. The track was in some places well-defined, in others the earth so hard as not to admit of the impression of the camel's foot. Passed by several tumuli of stones, said by the people to mark the route, and called âlam——directors. Passed also a conspicuous tomb of some distinguished individual, who had died in the open Desert. There was no writing or ornament, only a higher heap of stones, and piled in the shape of an oblong square. As soon as a traveller dies he is buried, if he have companions; the body is never brought to the neighbouring oases. My friend Haj-el-Besheer, to my regret, has disappeared with the Touarick.

Nothing possibly could be more horrible and dreary, exhibiting the very "palpable obscure," than our course of to-day. As far as the eye can stretch on every side is one vast, solitary, lifeless, treeless expanse of desert earth! It is a—

"Dreary [plain] forlorn and wild, The seat of desolation."

A Derge Arab said to me this evening, "The English will never come to Derge, wherever else they may go. The climate will kill them; in three days you will die of fever." The love of discussion, as well as their complaints against the Turkish Government, follow our people through The Desert. They are trying to make me turn Mohammedan, as far as disputing goes, and I have enough to do to get rid of their importunities. Sometimes I get the conversation turned by telling them, if I turn Mussulman I shall offend my Sultan. They reply, "Oh! you can confess with your lips, that you are a Christian, whilst you remain a Mussulman in your heart." One fellow got saucy, and said, turning up the fire with a stick, "The Jews and Christians will have this (fire) for ever." Threatening to report him to the Rais of Ghadames, he exclaimed, "The dog Rais has no rule in The Sahara." The other people made him hold his tongue. Felt the cold last night but especially this morning. It nips me up severely. Sleep in the clothes I wear during the day, and have additional covering of a thick rug and a cloak. We pitch no tents. Very little water is now drunk. Our people seem to shun it as mad dogs. As to the morning, no one drinks water this time of the day. How different to the summer! when a drink of water is sometimes reckoned a great favour, an immense boon, a heaven's best gift.

30th.—A fine morning; the dawn almost cloudless. Not so yesterday, volumes of cloud on cloud inflamed with purple stretched over all the east, not unlike an English summer's dawn, but the colours more vivid. But this was succeeded by the dreariest of days. In summer, the Saharan dawn is usually cloudless, and offers no beautiful variety of colours. The cloud of yesterday was surcharged with wind, which we soon felt to our annoyance. In The Desert the wind generally rises in the morning and falls in the evening. We continued our course over the vast plain all the morning, but at midday it broke into wide shallow valleys, and in the evening it was cut across by a large broad valley, or wady, as the Moors called it, stretching east and west. In this wady lies the well of Nthr or Njr, some spelling the name with the —. Here we encamp. We had come a very long weary day. Begin to feel very sensibly the hardships of Desert travelling. The length of a day's journey depends upon whether water is near or far off, and also upon there being fodder for camels. Our Arabs are obliged to look out lest they encamp upon an arid spot where the poor camel cannot crop a single herb. Mostly in the beds—dry beds of these wadys—there is some herbage and brushwood. The well of Nathar is very deep, and cut through rock as well as earth, but its water is extremely sweet and delicious. We usually find the best water running through rocky soil. En route, I observed no living creature, save a grasshopper, which had managed to get into existence amidst these herbless wilds. Think I also saw an ant near the foot of the camel. A few flies still follow our caravan, which we brought from Ghadames. These witless things have wisdom enough not to remain behind and perish in The Desert. Passed by two dead camels, fast decomposing into bones. Road all small stones sprinkled over an earthy soil, or altogether earth. Mirage again seen, with similar phenomena. Small islets in the midst of lakes, and white foam running on the ground as on the sea-shore. Our course S. and S.E.

1st December.—A fine mild morning, but intensely cold during the past night. Here we took fresh water enough for four days, the time required to arrive at the next well. Started about 11 A.M., and continued only three hours and a half, when we came to another wady, where we stopped in order to let the camels have their fill of the rich fodder with which the wady is covered. The plateau is now apparently disappearing, for it is broken into deep and broad valleys, from the sides of which rise in groups, and at various distances, low ranges of Saharan hills, and on one side, is a range very high, having very wild mountainous features. We have now travelled nearly six days, and have not yet met with fifty yards of sandy route. So much for the sandy Desert! All is either earth, sometimes as hard-baked as stone, or large blocks of stone, but chiefly very small chips of stone covering the entire surface. Our Arabs ask me, "Whether I prefer travelling by land or sea?" They imagine Christians, when they travel, necessarily travel by sea. They are also greatly astonished when I tell them we have no Sahara in England, and cannot credit the idea of a country being full of cultivated fields and gardens. The rest of our ghafalah, consisting of more than a third, is not yet come up, but Haj-el-Besheer and the Touarick Ali have joined us again and report them to be at the well of Nather.

Two or three birds were seen this morning about the wells. They were excessively familiar, and knew instinctively how to estimate the sight of a caravan for the crumbs and grains it might leave behind. They seemed also quite at home at the well. Still one would think they were birds of passage, like ourselves, for there are no trees or bushes for them to build in, and little to eat. Saw also a single lizard. I believe lizards abound in every part of The Sahara, but the cold now keeps them in their holes.

Three or four of our party have left us, mounted on maharees, for Ghat. They say they shall arrive in six or seven days. They will soon see if banditti are before us, and will return to let us know. Thought I should escape the orthodox body-guard. But it seems not. Where every person is obliged to accept of this guard, bon gré, malgré, it seems I must submit. However, I shall do without their services if possible. I offended a Moor by telling him that Christians do not require it, and have not this guard: it is only "peculiar to Mussulmans." A necessary part of the occupation of a ghafalah when it reaches a well is collecting and cracking the vermin. The camels are terrible things for straying. If they are surrounded with immense patches of the most choice herbage, even which is their delicium, they still keep on straying the more over it miles and miles. As to our nagah, we are obliged to tie her fore-feet, which prevents the camel from getting at a very great distance from the encampment. The camels are sly, unimpassioned, and deliberately savage, one to another, more especially the males. At times they go steadily, and even slowly, behind one another, and turning the neck and head sideways, deliberately bite one another's haunches most ferociously. The drivers immediately separate them, for the bite is dangerous to their health, and often attended with serious mischief to the animal bitten. But I have never yet seen a camel kick or attack a man. They invariably grumble and growl, sometimes most piteously, when they are being loaded, as if deprecating the heavy burden about to be placed upon them, and appealing to the mercy of their masters. The merchants pay 13½ Tunisian piastres per cantar for goods now conveyed from Ghadames to Ghat. The Touaricks carry goods cheaper, but they are now gone after the Shânbah. The Arabs asked 25, but the Rais of Ghadames fixed it at 13½. A camel carries from 2 to 3½ cantars[62]. I confess I was sorry to see these apparently so quiet and melancholy creatures ferocious to one another; but I recollected that all animals, even doves, quarrel and fight, and particularly males, where females are concerned.

To-day took out of my trunk Mr. Fletcher's note to me, to read over, which I had received from Malta during the time of my being in The Desert. The advice to travellers which it contains in a very few words, is so good, so excellent, that I shall take the liberty of transcribing it here, for the benefit of all future tourists in The Desert.

1st. "Keep a sharp look out about you, and pick up information."

2nd. "Keep with Sheiks, Religionists, (he means I suppose, Marabouts,) and Chieftains, for these are the only people who can give you protection."

3rd. "Expose yourself to no unnecessary risks and dangers."

4th. "Conciliate!"

Mr. Fletcher adds, "The white man is at the mercy of every tenant of The Desert, and though we would, one cannot be all things to all men." Nevertheless, I do think, poverty is my great protection in travelling in these countries. My fellow-travellers, up to the present time, are civil and assist me. It is necessary to mention here, I have neither compass nor thermometer, nor measure of any kind, nor maps, nor watch, so that I'm afraid my journal will sound ill to scientific ears. This was very bad management. Still we shall see what a man can do without the ordinary and most common scientific instruments of travelling. I have, however, an hour-glass, which embraces four hours in the time of emptying, and which I found useful in Ghadames, but make no use of it en route. I consider the objects of my tour moral, a random effort to maim, or kill, or cripple the Monster Slavery, a small rough stone picked up casually from the burnt and arid face of The Desert, but with dauntless hand thrown at this Titanian fabric of crime and wickedness. However, as my friend Mr. Fletcher advises, it does not prevent me from "picking up information," any how and everywhere, which I trust the reader will have already perceived. As a person who loses one sense acquires more intensity in others, so I, having no artificial means for procuring information with me, must do all by the ordinary senses of observation, common to the civilized man and the savage.

The mirage was very abundant to-day, producing a variety of splendid phenomena, "Castelli in Spagna," running streams, and silvery lakes, and a thousand things of water, and air, and landscape, just types of those pleasures and delights which we seek, and when grasping them, they slip from between our fingers.

Whilst we were encamped, two hours before sun-set, we were suddenly alarmed by the cries of banditti and Shânbah, and all were called upon to arm. At the same time people were sent off to bring up the camels which were grazing and straying at a distance. I was amusing myself with cooking the supper, and started up, not knowing what to make of it; I couldn't however help laughing at the queer predicament in which the supper looked, and thought I had been making it for the Shânbah. Running forward to see the cause of the alarm, I saw in the south, dimly at a distance, a small caravan approaching us. There were three or four camels, and several persons on foot. I then thought I must look about for a weapon of some sort. A man gave me a huge horse-pistol, and with this I sallied forth to take part in the common defence. Seeing an Arab far in advance, and alone, I went after him, who turned out to be one of the Souafah, whose acquaintance I had already made. This Arab certainly showed considerable bravery, and took up a reconnoitring position on a rising ground, looking with a steady and determined eye upon the approaching caravan. He turned to me and said bluffly, "It must be a Touarick ghafalah." Meanwhile, about forty people all armed, assembled pêle-mêle on the opposite side of the route, on a hill behind, uttering wild cries, and throwing up their matchlocks into the air. The cries now ceased, and was succeeded by a most anxious silence, all waiting a closer observation. At length, the experienced eye of our people discovered what was considered a troop of bandits on foot, to be a caravan of slaves. And immediately a number of the people ran off violently to meet the slave-caravan, which was escorted by our own Touaricks, the slaves being the property of our people. Our surprise was the greater when we found Haj-el-Besheer, and his companion the Touarick, returning with the caravan, which had brought letters for all the people. So the bandits turned out to be our friends and neighbours; and so burst this bubble of alarm. I observed two persons with long staffs lagging behind, and imagined them old men labouring along the route. What was my astonishment to find, as they approached, these old men gradually transformed into poor little children—child-slaves—crawling over the ground, scarcely able to move. Oh, what a curse is slavery! how full of hard-heartedness and cruelty! As soon as the poor slaves arrived, they set to work and made a fire. Some of them were laden with wood when they came up. The fire was their only protection from the cold, the raw bitter cold of the night, for they were nearly naked. I require as much as three ordinary great coats, besides the usual clothing of the day, to keep me warm in the night; these poor things, the chilly children of the tropics, have only a rag to cover them, and a bit of fire to warm them. I shall never forget the sparkling eyes of delight of one of the poor little boys, as he sat down and looked into the crackling glaring fire of desert scrub. In the evening I noticed the amount of the food which was given as the one daily meal to these famished creatures, ten in number. Said usually eats more than the whole of it for his supper. The food was barley-meal mixed with water. The slaves were children and youths, all males. They had been already fourteen days en route from Ghat, and would be eight more before they could reach Ghadames. By that time, like the last slaves which arrived whilst I was there, they would be simply "living skeletons." The misery is, these slaves are conducted not by their masters, but slave-drivers, at so much per head, and consequently the conductors feed the slaves on as little as possible, to make the most of their bargain with the owners. The slave-caravan, however, brought us good news.

The Shânbah, after ravaging the Touarick districts, had fled their own country, and taken refuge in the Algerian territory—so escaping the vengeance of the Touaricks. We have, therefore, no enemy en route, thank God, except ourselves, and our own quarrels, which occur but seldom. The annual winter Soudan caravan had not yet arrived in Ghat, but was expected every day. It is worth mentioning here, as a remarkable trait of good faith amongst the Moors and Arabs, that they do not often seal their letters, but fold them up as we do notes of trifling import. All the letters brought to-day were unsealed, and did not require Grahamizing. Haj-el-Besheer told me it was haram ("prohibited,") for strangers to read these unsealed letters. My readers will see that we are again obliged to go to the barbarians of The Desert to learn the ordinary practices of good faith and morality. How exceedingly rejoiced would be the "Haute Police" of civilized Europe to have all letters sent un-sealed through the Post Office! What a pity these Mahometan barbarians are so trusting and simple-minded! What a pity our boasted religion does not teach us Christians the honesty of barbarians! We wrote letters to Ghadames and Tripoli over the fire-light. Afterwards my friend Haj-el-Besheer commenced a sing-song repetition of a Marabout legend, which he continued all the evening, speaking to no one; even whilst he was eating he continued his rigmarole story to himself, the people taking no notice of him. I was greatly amused at this odd singing to one's self.

2nd.—A very fine morning, and, as I anticipated, it turned out very hot. Yet whilst the sun scorched my face on one side, the cold wind from the east blanched my cheek on the other. No living creature seen but a few insects. Our people fell in with the skeleton of a Touarick ass, and amused themselves with setting it up upon its legs, as if in the pillory. I rallied them afterwards as they were in a good humour, on their terror of banditti yesterday. They replied, "It was the number of people on foot which alarmed us, banditti generally go on foot with a few camels to carry provisions and water." We started at sun-rise and encamped an hour before sun-set, to have light enough to collect firewood, and forage for the camels. The ground of our course to-day was broken into broad and long valleys. In the wady where we encamp is herbage for camels. I notice as a thing most extraordinary, after seven days from Ghadames, two small trees! the common Desert acacia. Another phenomenon, I see two or three pretty blue flowers! as I picked one up, I could not help exclaiming, Elhamdullah, ("Praise to God!") for Arabic was growing second-born to my tongue, and I began to think in it. An Arab said to me, "Yâkob, if we had a reed and were to make a melodious sound, those flowers, the colour of heaven, would open and shut their mouths (petals)." This fiction is extremely poetical. Felt unwell this morning from eating or munching too many dates; better this evening. All our people well, and no accidents.

3rd.—Rose at sun-rise and pursued our weary way over broken ground, now broad valleys, now low hills. Whilst exclaiming that the sandy desert was all "a report," "a talk," "a fabrication of travellers who wished to increase and vary the catalogue of Saharan hardships," at noon we came upon a range of sand-hills. These increased on every side, and at length we cut right across a group of them. Having left the plateau the mirage has also disappeared, apparently the only species of desert where it can be fairly developed. With the sand has appeared a new kind of stone, of a light-blue slate colour, some of it of as firm a consistence as granite. Its colour also sometimes varies to a beautiful light green. The Desert itself only increases and varies in hideousness. And yet in some places where sand is sprinkled over the hardened earth, a little coarse herbage springs up. Encamped at night. Cold all day. Felt unwell. To-day and yesterday course mostly south.

4th.—Sand-hills increase in number, and find ourselves in the heart of a region of sand. At noon descended the deepest wady we have yet encountered. On the big blocks of rock below Arabic and Touarghee letters were carved. The barbarians, as their civilized brethren, seek in this way also a bastard immortality for their names. Down in the valley we passed some human bones; the skull was perfect. Who shall write the history of these bones? Are they those of one who was murdered, or who dropped from exhaustion in The Desert? These bones scattered at the camel's feet made the march of to-day still more melancholy. No herbage for camels or wood for fire. Gave our nagah barley and dates. It frequently happens, there is no wood en route (I mean underwood or scrub), or at the place where we are obliged to stop. This obliges us to carry it from places where it abounds, as also a little herbage for the camels. Pitched our camp amidst the sandy waste late at night. Our route varied between S.W., S., and S.E., but around some huge groups of sand-hills we were obliged to make a painful circuit. Warmer to-day, and a little wind, always from the east. No living creature met with! No sound or voice heard! Felt better to-day.

5th.—Rose with the sun, as it enflamed the sand-hills, and made them like burnished heaps of metal. Marched three hours amidst the sand-hills. Very difficult route for the camels, which frequently upset their loads in mounting or descending the groups of hills. The Arabs smooth the abrupt ascents, forming an inclined plane of sand, and then, in the descents, pull back the camels, swinging with all their might on the tails of the animals. No herbage—no stone—no earthy ground—all, everything one wide waste of sand, shining under the fervid sun as bright as the light, dazzling and blinding the eyes. But Milton's poetic eye, turning, or in "a fine frenzy rolling" to the ends of the earth, subjecting all the images and wonders of nature, of all climates and countries, to the supporting of his majestic verse, glanced also at these sands of the Lybian Desert—

"Unnumbered as the sands Of Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil."

El-Aïshi, describing the sandy Sahara, says, "There is neither tree, nor bush, nor herb. The eye sees only clouds of sand, raised by continual winds, which by their violence efface the marks of the caravan as fast as men and animals imprint them with their feet. The aspect of this immensity of sand reminds me of the words, 'Bless our Lord Mahomet as much as the sand is extended,' and I understood now their full import."

But here in the centre of this wilderness of sand we had an abundant proof of the goodness of a good God. Whilst mourning over this horrible scene of monotonous desolation, and wondering why such regions were created in vain, we came upon The Wells of Mislah, where we encamped for the day. These are not properly wells, for the sand being removed in various places, about four or five feet below the surface, the water runs out. Indeed, we were obliged to make our own wells. Each party of the ghafalah dug a well for itself. Ghafalahs are divided into so many parties, varying in size from five men and twenty camels, to ten men and forty camels. Three or four wells were dug out in this way. Some of the places had been scooped out before. Water may be found through all the valley of Mislah. A few dwarfish palms are in the valley, but which don't bear fruit. The camels, finding nothing else to eat, attacked voraciously their branches. It is surprising the sand is not more scattered over the wells and trees, for on the south-west is a lofty sand-hill, deserving the name of a mountain, almost overhanging the pits. Here is a sufficient proof, at once, that The Desert has no sandy waves like the Desert Ocean of waters, as poets and credulous or exaggerating writers have been pleased to inform us. Were this the case, the wells of Mislah would have been long ago heaped up and over with pile upon pile of sand-hills, and caravans would have abandoned for ever this line of route. For we can hardly suppose that one sand-storm would cover the pits of Mislah with a mountain pile of sand, and the next sand-storm uncover them and lay them bare to the amazed Saharan traveller. On the contrary, the pits of Mislah and the stunted palms have every appearance of having remained as they now are for centuries. The hills are huge groups, some single ones, glaring in sun above the rest, and others pyramidical. The sand at times is also very firm to the camel's tread. Shall I say a terra firma in loose shifting sands? But for the water of Mislah it is extremely brackish, nay salt. I had observed between the sand-hills small valleys, or bottoms, covered with, a whitish substance which I now find salt. Both men and camels are alike condemned to drink this water. I try it with boiling and tea and find it worse, and cannot drink it, so I'm obliged to beg of our people the remaining sweet water of Nather, left in the skins. Our people confess themselves, in summer when this water gets hot they can scarcely drink it, being veritable brine. An European travelling this route should always provide himself with water enough at the well of Nather to last him from six to eight days. My skin-bags have got out of order, and I did not make inquiries of the people about this well. At one well a traveller should always make inquiry about the water of the next well. This is indispensable if an European tourist would have water fit to drink. The Mislah water is full of saline particles, and is purging every body. The valley of Mislah, over which we are encamped, is not more than twenty minutes' walking in length, and half this in breadth. In many parts the sand is encrusted with a beautiful white salt. One of the Arabs of Souf said to me, "See, Yâkob, this is our country, all Souf is like this." So it appears an oasis may exist in a region of shifting (?) sands. Are these the shifting sands which bury whole caravans beneath their sandy billows, when lashed up by the Desert tempest[63]?



This reminds me of what Colonel Warrington told me of some tourist, who describes himself as killing a camel to procure the water from its stomach, when within a couple days from Tripoli, and on a spot where there was a splendid spring of never-failing water. I often asked the Arabs, if they ever killed the camel to get the water from its stomach? They replied, "They had often heard of such things." A merchant of Ghadames made, however, an apposite observation: "This is our sea, here we travel as you in your sea, bringing our provisions and water with us."

These pits are considered the half-way house or station to Ghat. I'm told the route from Ghat to Aheer is much more easy and agreeable than this. Trust I shall find it so if I go. Begin to feel this irksome, and am in low spirits. People try to amuse me, and I have received many little presents of date-cakes and bazeen from them. Begin to relish this sort of food, and The Desert air sharpens the appetite. Yesterday, a slave of the ghafalah amused us with playing his rude bagpipe through these weary wastes. We are not very merry. There is very little conversation; we move on for hours in the most unbroken silence, nothing being said or whispered, no sound but the dull slow tread of the camel. Sometimes an Arab strikes up one of his plaintive ditties, and thinks of his green olive-clad mountain home in the Atlas. Happily there is little or no quarrelling. I am sure sixty people of all ages and tempers, were they Europeans, travelling in this region of blank monotony, oppressed with sombre reflections and without anything to relieve the senses, would not manage things so smoothly, or without quarrelling, and at times most desperately. For we are a bonâ fide moving city, and at each well every body prepares to start afresh. Some mend their torn clothes, others the broken gear of the camels, others take out the raw materials from their bags and work up a new supply of provisions. Others wash and shave. Our Saharan travellers rarely wash themselves except at the wells. Their religion requires of them to wash their hands at their meals, but this they evade by rubbing their hands with a little sand, a privilege, however, Mahomet has only granted them when they can find no water. We followed the tracks of the few of our party who had preceded us. Here also the footstep is rigidly observed as in the American wilderness, and the people pretend to distinguish the foot-print of the bandit on the sand from that of an honest man. But one night of strong wind usually covers up the track, and though the sand does not move in billows, it flies about, first from one side and then the other, and fills up the foot-prints of men and animals. There is no doubt but it requires the most practised eye of the camel-driver to find his way through these regions, and yet, for my life, I could not see that the people experienced any difficulty. They seemed as much at home in this intricate waste of creation as in their own dark zigzag streets of Ghadames.

As the sun goes down and night comes on, the sand-hills, from shining white, look as dark and drear as earth-hills. But how smooth is all! If they were hills of blown glass they could not be more smooth. In the sketch of Mislah will be seen a date-tree with part of its branches depending, forming with the up-rising a curious shape. The under foliage is dead and dried up, a fit object in the desolate scene. Not a single living creature about the wells. No bird is here. At Maseen and Nather we had seen two or three small birds, hopping about the wells, picking up the crumbs and scattered grain of the passing caravan. Except the little vegetable life, all else here is "a universe of death!"

FOOTNOTES:

[62] A cantar is about an English hundred-weight.

[63] Oudney says:—"The presence of nothing but deep sand-valleys and high sand-hills strikes the mind forcibly. There is something of the sublime mixed with the melancholy. Who cannot contemplate without admiration masses of loose sand fully four hundred feet high, ready to be tossed about by every breeze, and not shudder with horror at the idea of the unfortunate traveller being entombed in a moment by one of these fatal blasts, which sometimes occur?" I agree with the Doctor about the sublime and melancholy mixed in contemplating these regions of sand. But they are by no means dangerous. No people that I heard of had been entombed under these fatal blasts. I am almost sorry now that I did not pass through the region of Mislah in a Saharan hurricane, and then I should have known all.



CHAPTER XV.

FROM GHADAMES TO GHAT.

End of the Sandy Region.—No Birds of Prey in The Sahara.—Progress of the French in the Algerian Oases.—Slave Trade of The Desert supported by European Merchants.—Desolations of Sahara.—System of Living of our People.—Various Tours through Central Africa.—The Desert tenanted by harmless and Domesticated Animals.—Horribly dreary Day's March.—A Fall from my Camel.—Well of Nijberten, and its delicious Water.—Moral Character of the People of our Caravan.—Well of Tbbothteen.—Camel knocked up and killed.—Mode of Killing Camels.—Pretty Aspect of The Sahara.—Some of the Ghafalah go on before the rest.—The Plain and Well of Tadoghseen.—Encounter and Adventure with the quasi Bandit Sheik, Ouweek.—Enter the region of the Jenoun or Genii.—Mountain Range of Wareerat.

6th.—ROSE at day-break but did not start until after sun-rise. Continued through the sand. Scenery as yesterday, hills heaped upon heap, group around group, and sometimes a plain of sand, furrowed in pretty tesselated squares like the sands of the sea-shore. I walked about three hours to ease the nagah. The camels continued to flounder in the sand, throwing over their necks their heavy burdens. The ascents extremely difficult: people employed in scooping an inclined path for the animals. But, in the afternoon, about three, we saw through an opening of the shining heaps, a blue and black waste of contiguous desert. I could not help crying out for joy, like a man at the prow who descries the port, after having been buffeted about many a stormy day by contrary winds and currents. Much fatigued with the walking over the sands, and sick with drinking the brackish water of Mislah. Nothing en route to-day except four crows, and a skeleton of a camel. This is the small crow of The Sahara ( ). People pretend it does not drink water. It may live on the flesh of the few camels which drop down and die from exhaustion, and on lizards. There are, however, no vultures and ravenous birds of huge dimensions in this region of Sahara. So that,



"Where the body is, there also collect the eagles," is not applicable to this part of The Desert, although the vulture, pouncing voraciously upon the dead man and dying camel, is an appropriate feature in Saharan landscapes. The large birds of prey do not find, as the lion, water to drink in these regions. When we got fairly upon the firm ground of Stony Sahara, I was refreshed with the sight of seven small acacia trees. This seems to be the only tree which will not surrender to the iron sceptre of Saharan desolation, for it strikes its roots into the sterility itself. A white butterfly also, to my amazement, passed my camel's head! Where does the little fluttering thing get its food in this region of desolation?

Another of the Souf Arabs said to me this morning, "This sand is the country of the Souafah and the Shânbah." If so, indeed, it would be a troublesome country for a military expedition. "However," said a merchant, "the maharee can pursue the Shânbah to the last heap of their sands." Speaking of the Shânbah last evening when we were in the midst of the sands, the Souafah said:—"When the enemy will come, we shall cover ourselves in the sand, and fire off our matchlocks. They will feel our bullets, and hear our report, and look about and see no person. We shall be covered up in the sand." This, the Souf Arab repeated several times, and the Ghadamsee traders thought it astonishingly clever and courageous. It is reported five hundred Touaricks are soon to pursue the Shânbah into the Algerian territory. It is said also, French Arabs will support the Shânbah bandits against both Touaricks and Souafah. Such is the silly talk of our caravan. Still the French have got far south, and my Souafah companions acknowledge that some of their districts pay tribute to the Algerian authorities. This is something like progress, and we ought not to deceive ourselves about their movements southwards. Nothing is worse than self-deception. The Romans struggled long before they made any sensible progress in Africa, nay, several centuries. In fifteen years the French have induced a whole line of Saharan oases, more or less, to acknowledge their authority. And the thing is done cleverly enough; they do not appoint a local governor, or dispatch a single soldier, and yet they manage to get some money from these distant Saharan oases. However, this tribute must be very trifling; and were all this line of Algerian oases to pay their tribute regularly, it would be as a drop in the bucket compared with the thousands of millions of francs which have been spent, and will be spent in Algeria. Such a colony as Algeria will not only not pay, but will ruin the finances of a score of kingdoms as large as France. The politics of our moving Saharan city are mostly confined to the Pasha of Tripoli and the French in Algeria. "When will the Pasha go, soon or late? Will another come after him? Will he be better? Will he fleece us as this despot, of all our money? Have the French many troops in Algeria? Have they more than Muley Abd-Errahman? Could they conquer Morocco? Why don't the English drive out the French from Algeria? The Mussulmans of Algeria are now corrupted by the money of the Christians. The Bey of Tunis is the friend of the French. The Sultan of Constantinople, Mehemet Ali, and the English are against the Bey of Tunis and the French. Now, the Christians have great power in the world, but they will soon be cut off, when shall appear the new warrior of the faithful. Is the Sultan of Stamboul strong? Has he more soldiers than Moskou (Russia)? Have the French more soldiers than the English? Is Mehemet Ali to have Tripoli given him, and is he to march on to Tunis and against the French?" &c. All these, and a thousand other questions and opinions similar, agitate the sage politicians of our ghafalah: so true it is, that when we change the heavens above, we do not change our thoughts on the things below, which are left behind us.

My friend, Zaleâ, of Seenawan, did not come with us, he having contracted for the building of the caravansary of Emjessem, but his brother, a rough bold Arab, accompanied us, who assured me to-day,—"That all the goods of the ghafalah were the property of Christians and Jews in Tripoli, and the Ghadamseeah merchants were only their commission agents. These goods were to be exchanged for Soudan merchandise, including slaves, which latter, after being sold in Tripoli, the money of their sale would be given up to the merchants under European protection." This is a strong confirmation of the opinion which I have expressed in my reports, "That the slave-traffic of Tripoli is supported by the money and goods of Europeans." My informant wished to know and put the question:—"If I take you (the writer) to Soudan, and bring you back safe, will you get me free from paying taxes to the Pasha?" Another observed on this,—"That's ridiculous, Yâkob; if you say that Mahomet is the prophet of God, you can go safe to Soudan without the protection of any body." I made answer to this impertinence, that such language was not proper, and if they continued to pester me with their religion, I should report them to Rais Mustapha. This at once silenced them.

Felt very sick this evening with drinking the water of Mislah. It is purging all the people like genuine Epsom.

7th.—Started a little before sun-rise, when a clear mist was spread like a mantle of gauze over old Sahara, and lost the sight of the sand-hills in the course of the morning. I joyfully bid them adieu, though it may be very fine and Desert-like to talk and write of regions of sand and sandy billows, furrowing the bosom of Sahara. Winding about, but always making south. Wind now from the west; the sky mostly overcast, but no signs of rain. No living things en route, but a solitary crow, and another solitary butterfly. The mirage again visible. Very little herbage for the camels, and no wood for the fire. On our right long ranges of low hills, dull and drear outlines of The Desert. In some masses, the stone and earth and chalk are thrown together in confusion, as so many materials for creating a new world. Those who traverse these Saharan desolations, cannot but receive the impression, that old mother earth, slung on her balance, and revolving on her axis, has performed eternal cycles of decay and reproduction. Time was, when these heaps of desolation were fruitful fields of waving corn and smiling meadows, and fair branching woods, meandered about with running rills of silvery streams, where cattle pastured lowing, and birds sang on the trees. Now, heap upon heap, and pile upon pile of the ruins of nature deform the dreadful landscape, one feature being more hideous to look upon than the other: and the whole is a mass of blank existence, having no apparent object but to daunt and terrify the hapless wayfarer, who with his faithful camel, slowly and mournfully winds his weary way through the scene of wasteful destruction. . . . . In the sand, the pebbles are as bright and smooth as those washed by the sea-spray, or chafed by a running brook.

I have observed minutely the system of living amongst our people, and really believe they have not enough to eat. When they invite me to supper, and give me a share of bazeen, I always require another supper on my return, before going to bed. Besides, I always make a slight repast in the morning, which they do not. Then I eat dates and a piece of cake during the day's riding, for we never stop during the day's march. They also munch a few dates themselves. But, altogether, though I'm a moderate eater, I believe I eat every day twice, and sometimes thrice, as much as they eat. With respect to clothing, I wear double the quantity they do, and, nevertheless, feel cold at night. I may say with truth, they are poorly fed and badly clothed. It is this miserable system of living which makes them such lanky bare-boned objects. I observe, also, they feel the fatigue very much, as much as I myself, though unwell with drinking the water and serving a hard apprenticeship to Desert-travelling.

I believe Europeans, in this season of the year, would travel these Saharan wilds with less fatigue, and in far superior style. I now walk two hours first thing every morning. Most of the merchants do the same. Zaleâ said to me, "Yâkob, we (pointing to three or four of his people) are the only true men here, and understand affairs; the rest are all good-for-nothing." Indeed, the Seenawanee Arabs are generally very excellent camel-drivers, and know the routes perfectly. We have with us a young Touarick, who never covers his head winter or summer. His hair grows long, unlike other Mohammedans, who shave the head. This Targhee tells me he is never unwell. We're encamped in a valley. As the sun sets, the sky is encharged with clouds. But usually the wind goes down a little after dark, and rises an hour or two after day-break. Fortunately, this is not a month of winds, so say the people.

As the camel moves slowly, but surely[64], on to Ghat, I still revolve in mind the various routes of the interior. I'm still as much at a loss as ever to determine which route I shall take, and have only Providence for my guide. There are various routes before me:—

1st.—To go to Soudan, viâ Aheer, and return with the ghafalah of Ghadames, with which I proceed. This is easy and simple, but does not offer much variety.

2nd.—To proceed to Soudan, viâ Aheer, as in the first, and return viâ Bornou and Fezzan. This offers both variety and security.

3rd.—To proceed as before to Soudan, then Bornou, then Darfour, Kordofan, Nubia, and Egypt. This is various, new, and attended with danger, but I don't know what extent of danger.

4th.—To proceed to Soudan, Kanou, and Noufee, and then descend the Niger to the Bight of Benin. This would be a fine journey, and perhaps not attended with any very great difficulties.

5th.—To proceed to Soudan, as above, thence along the upper banks of the Niger to Timbuctoo, and return viâ Mogador in Morocco. This I believe the most perilous of all the routes.

Any of these routes, however, could not fail to be useful to commerce, geography, and discovery. Those who take the route of descending the Niger to the ocean, will avoid a three or four months' journey over The Desert. Noufee, on the Niger, is only fifteen days from Kanou, and seven to the Atlantic.

To-day passed several tumuli of stones, more than eight feet high, evidently placed to direct the caravans over the trackless portions of Sahara. I wonder what the people of Europe will say when I tell them, that The Desert—pictured in such frightful colours by the ancients, as teeming with monsters and wild beasts, and every unearthly and uncouth thing and being, not forgetting the dragons, salamanders, vampyres, cockatrices, and fiery-flying serpents, and as such believed in these our enlightened days—is a very harmless place, its menagerie being reduced to a few small crows, and now and then a stray butterfly, and a few common house and cheese-and-bacon and fruit flies! these poor little domestic everyday creatures! Nay, there is not found here the wild ox, or the oudad, or the antelope, or ostrich, or the wild boar, or any other animal which inhabit and mark the Saharan regions near the north coast of Africa. It is, indeed, impossible to conceive of a country so devoid of living creatures as the route which we have traversed these last twelve days. To this must be added, that now is the favourable season for animals, and we should certainly see them if there were any to be seen.

Of the four routes to Ghat, the next to us on the west, is the shortest. People say the route which we are now travelling is only frequented in this season, and mostly by large caravans, or scarcely ever in the summer.

8th.—Rose at day-break and started at sunrise: as usual, the sky overcast and in an hour the wind got up and blew a strong gale awhile from the south-east. To-day Sahara looked unusually dark and drear; night as a dread pall seemed to hang on the day and all visible things—all life and animation was extinct but our lone, solitary, melancholy caravan! We moved on in deep and weary silence, not a noise, a cry, a murmur, the grumbling of the camels was even hushed. Nothing broke the horrid silence of The Desert. We wound round long-long winding valleys—

"Through many a dark and dreary vale [We] pass'd, and many a region dolorous—" "Where all life dies."

Most of the stone scattered en route was black shingle, and all the region had a volcanic look. In one wady through which we passed were found several stones rounded into (shall I call them?) cannon-balls, scattered about, and some were of prodigious size. They were as round as if artificially made. There were also a great many halves, or half balls. Our people to divert their minds from the gloom hanging around them dismounted and amused themselves with these cannon-balls of nature. Some would say that nature furnishes a type of every thing in art. Our Touaricks assured us, "These balls were made by the Jenoun, who on occasion of quarrels, pelted one another with them. A traveller was once killed with some of these balls during the night, although a friend of the Jenoun." In a former period, I imagine the action of water produced these specimens of stony rotundity, for they were embedded in a deep wady. On leaving this valley, I had also something else to relieve me from the gloom of this day's march. On mounting a small ridge of rock, abrupt, and full of sharp stones, I was pitched off in a summerset style from the back of the camel, and if I had not been caught in my fall by a slave of the caravan, I should have fallen once and for ever in this world; as it was, I felt stunned and considerably hurt. This was my first and last fall from the camel. I learnt caution at a great risk. The people all crowded round to assist me, terribly frightened. My thick woollen clothes saved my bones. I could not help remarking the coincidence of being saved by a slave, for the benefit of whom I had chiefly undertaken this perilous journey. In general, the camel goes extremely steady, it is only in mounting and descending that they become unsteady, unwieldy, and dangerous. At other times, you may sleep, eat and drink, read and write, on the back of a camel. But as our days are short and nights long, we require no sleep, and my eyes are too bad for reading. Our people call camels by the Arabic term bâeer (), the male camel is called jemel (), and the female nagah (). As the she-camel is most valuable for the sustenance of the tribes, the Touaricks sometimes call the whole race of camels nagah. "We," say they, "have nothing but the nagah (she-camel)," thereby meaning, our property alone consists in camels. But the nagah is a great favourite with the Mussulmans of all nations. Mahomet mounted a milk-white nagah, when he ascended to paradise. The camels have all public and private marks, the former for their country, and the latter for their owner, and, strange enough, the public mark of the Ghadames camels is the English broad R. So when a camel is stolen, a man claims his camel by his mark. The marking is done by branding with a hot iron.

I can't help observing the habits of the camels, for our continued marching affords us ample leisure. When these melancholy creatures can find no other occupation en route, or when there is nothing en route, or after a full belly, they set to work, like men, and bite one another. Often one of the camels falls, or throws its load, in a regular encounter. The Moors and Arabs are bad loaders of the camels, and there is always some camel with its load falling off. In fact, the people do nothing neat and well. Even the little gear required for these animals is continually breaking and getting out of order. People look to the immediate hour before them: not excepting even the necessary articles of fodder and water, and food for themselves, of which they often neglect to take a sufficient supply. And yet if anything could teach a man to be provident it is The Desert. If this Saharan travelling were placed under the management of Europeans, it would be infinitely more secure. Our camels are nearly all coast-camels, we shall soon have to speak of the maharee. The Touarghee uses quite a different style of address when he coaxes along the camels; it is bolder and quicker in its intonations, suited to the language of the Touaricks. A frequent address of encouragement is, "Bok, bok bok, bokka bokka." The Arabs usually command the movement of the camels by "Tzâ;" and when they are to stop, by "Ush;" and, to kneel down, it is a prolonged pronunciation of the guttural or Kh-h-h. We may well suppose, however, that the camels which travel this route are expert linguists in the Touarghee and Arabic.

We continued all day till the last dull departing solar ray of the west had left us. A long dark, dismal, dreary day it has been. We encamped amidst two long ranges of Saharan mountains as a shelter from the wind. Our people detest the wind, they prefer burning heat to wind. The mountains only deserve the name from their frightfully gloomy aspect, not from their consistence or magnitude, for in reality they are so much stony and earthy rubbish shovelled up into long ridges. There is nothing in shape or consistence of granite. I picked up several pieces of petrified wood, but none of them pretty or remarkable. So far as I can judge, there are no minerals or rare stones to repay the researches of the geologist in these regions of desolation. Noticed a quantity of soft grey stone, as also of slate stone: observed some lime-stone gradually acquiring the consistence and colour of fine streaky marble.

9th.—Rose as the day broke, and started with the first rays of the sun. Continued through the same kind of country, with an addition of a little sand here and there, for five hours, until we arrived at the well of Nijberten, to our great joy, for it is a well of deliciously sweet water. Around the well, I was pleased with the sight of several dark bushes scattered upon the small sand-hills. Anything in the shape of a tree now gladdens the heart. I observe again, that vegetation often springs out of the sand in preference to the hard or even softer earth in The Sahara. A little sand, scattered over the hard earth, and oftener solid rock, enables vegetation to spring up, when the mould of Sahara produces nothing. But there is little or no herbage for camels. Give my nagah the barley which I provided for my own use. People ridicule the choice of Rais Mustapha in the purchase of the camel, and say she will never carry me to Soudan.