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.