Friday, October 4.—At length the day arrived when I was to set out on my long-wished-for excursion to Ágades. For although at that time I was not aware of the whole extent of interest attaching to that place, it had nevertheless been to me a point of the strongest attraction. For what can be more interesting than a considerable town, said to have been once as large as Tunis, situated in the midst of lawless tribes, on the border of the desert and of the fertile tracts of an almost unknown continent, established there from ancient times, and protected as a place of rendezvous and commerce between nations of the most different character, and having the most various wants? It is by mere accident that this town has not attracted as much interest in Europe as her sister town, Timbúktu.
It was a fine morning, with a healthy and refreshing light breeze, invigorating both body and mind. The old chief, who had never before visited our encampment, now came out to pay us his compliments, assuring me once more that “my safety rested upon his head.” But his heart was so gladdened at witnessing our efforts to befriend the other great men of his country that his habitual niggardliness was overcome, and with graceful hospitality he resigned one of his bullocks to our party. The little caravan I was to accompany consisted of six camels, five-and-thirty asses, and two bullocks, one of which was allotted to me, till my protector Hámma should be able to hire a camel for me. But although well accustomed to ride on horseback as well as on a camel, I had never yet in my life tried to sit astride on the broad back of a bullock; and the affair was the more difficult as there was no saddle, nor anything to sit upon, except parcels of luggage not very tightly fastened to the animal’s back and swinging from one side to the other.
After the first bullock had been rejected, as quite unfit, in its wild, intractable mood, to carry me, or indeed anything else, and when it had been allowed to return to the herd, the second was at length secured, the luggage fastened somehow on his back, and I was bid to mount. I must truly confess that I should have been better pleased with a horse, or even an ass; but still, hoping to manage matters, I took my seat, and, bidding my fellow-travellers farewell, followed my black companions up the broad valley by which we had come from the north. But we soon left it, and ascended the rocky ground, getting an interesting view of the broad and massive Mount Eghellál before us. Having at first thought my seat rather too insecure for making observations, I grew by degrees a little more confident, and, taking out my compass, noted the direction of the road, when suddenly the baggage threatened to fall over to the right, whereupon I threw the whole weight of my body to the left, in order to keep the balance; but I unluckily overdid it, and so all at once down I came, with the whole baggage. The ground was rocky, and I should inevitably have been hurt not a little if I had not fallen upon the muzzle of my musket, which I was carrying on my shoulder, and which being very strong, sustained the shock, and kept my head from the ground. Even my compass, which I had open in my left hand, most fortunately escaped uninjured, and I felt extremely glad that I had fallen so adroitly, but vowed never again to mount a bullock.
I preferred marching on foot till we reached the valley Eghellúwa, where plenty of water is found, in several wells. Here we halted a moment, and I mounted behind Hámma on the lean back of his camel, holding on by his saddle; but I could not much enjoy my seat, as I was greatly annoyed by his gun sticking out on the right, and at every moment menacing my face. I was therefore much pleased when we reached the little village of Tiggeréresa, lying on the border of a broad valley well clothed with talha-trees, and a little further on encamped in a pleasant recess formed by projecting masses of granite blocks; for here I was told we should surely find camels, and in fact Hámma hired two for me, for four mithkáls each, to go to and return from Ágades. Here we also changed our companions, the very intelligent Mohammed, a son of one of Ánnur’s sisters, returning to Tin-téllust, while the turbulent Mohammed (I called him by no other name than Mohammed bábo hánkali), our friend from Afís, came to attend us, and with him Hámmeda, a cheerful and amiable old man, who was a fair specimen of the improvement derivable from the mixture of different blood and of different national qualities; for while he possessed all the cheerfulness and vivacity of the Góber nation, his demeanour was nevertheless moderated by the soberness and gravity peculiar to the Berber race, and though, while always busy, he was not effectively industrious, yet his character approached very closely to the European standard. He was by trade a blacksmith, a more comprehensive profession in these countries than in Europe, although in general these famous blacksmiths have neither iron nor tools to work with. All over the Tuarek country the “énhad” (smith) is much respected, and the confraternity is most numerous. An “énhad” is generally the prime minister of every little chief. The Arabs in Timbúktu call these blacksmiths “mʿallem,” which may give an idea of their high rank and respected character. Then there is also the “mʿallema,” the constant female companion of the chief’s wife, expert above all in beautiful leather work.
In order to avoid, as much as possible, attracting the attention of the natives, I had taken no tent with me, and sheltered myself at night under the projecting roof of the granite blocks, my Kél-owí friends sleeping around me.
Saturday, October 5.—Hámma was so good as to give up to me his fine tall méheri, while he placed his simple little saddle or “kíri” on the back of the young and ill-trained camel hired here, a proceeding which in the course of our journey almost cost him his ribs. In truth I had no saddle, yet my seat was arranged comfortably by placing first two leathern bags filled with soft articles across the back of the camel, and then fastening two others over them lengthwise, and spreading my carpet over all. Even for carrying their salt, the Kél-owí very rarely employ saddles, or if they do, only of the lightest description, made of straw, which have nothing in common with the heavy and hot “hawiya” of the Arabs.
The country through which we travelled was a picturesque wilderness, with rocky ground intersected at every moment by winding valleys and dry watercourses richly overgrown with grasses and mimosas, while majestic mountains and detached peaks towered over the landscape, the most interesting object during the whole day being Mount Cheréka, with its curious double peak, as it appeared from various sides, first looking as if it were a single peak, only bifurcated at the top, then after a while showing two peaks, separated almost to the very base, and rising in picturesque forms nearly to the same elevation. Unfortunately our road did not lead us near it, although I was as anxious to explore this singular mountain as to visit the town of Ásodi, which some years ago attracted attention in Europe. We had sent a present to Astáfidet, the chief of the Kél-owí residing here, and probably I should have been well received; but Hámma would not hear of our going there now, so we left the town at no great distance to the right, and I must content myself with here inserting the information obtained from other people who had been there repeatedly.
Ásodi, lying at no great distance from the foot of Mount Cheréka, which forms the most characteristic feature of the surrounding landscape, was once an important place, and a great resort for merchants, though as it is not mentioned by any Arabic writer, not even by Leo, it would seem to be of much later origin than Ágades. Above a thousand houses built of clay and stone lie at present in ruins, while only about eighty are still inhabited; this would testify that it was once a comparatively considerable place, with from eight to ten thousand inhabitants. Such an estimate of its magnitude is confirmed by the fact that there were seven tamizgídas, or mosques, in the town, the largest of which was ornamented with columns, the “mamber” alone being decorated with three, while the naves were covered in partly with a double roof made of the stems of the dúm-tree, and partly with cupolas. The town, however, seems never to have been enclosed with a wall, and in this respect, as well as in its size, was always inferior to Ágades. At present, although the population is scattered about, the market of Ásodi is still well provided with provisions, and even with the more common merchandise. The house of the amanókal of the Kél-owí is said to stand on a little eminence in the western part of the town, surrounded by about twenty cottages. There is no well inside, all the water being fetched from a well which lies in a valley stretching from north to south.
Conversing with my companions about this place, which we left at a short distance to our right, and having before us the interesting picture of the mountain range of Búnday, with its neighbouring heights, forming one continuous group with Mount Eghellál, we reached the fine valley Chizólen, and rested in it during the hottest hours of the day, under a beautiful talha-tree, while the various beasts composing our little caravan found a rich pasturage all around.
Having taken here a sufficient supply of very good water from hollows scooped in the sand, we continued our march over rocky ground thickly covered with herbage, and surmounted on our right by the angular outlines and isolated sugar-loaves of a craggy ridge, while on our left rose the broad, majestic form of Mount Eghellál. As evening came on I was greatly cheered at the sight of a herd of well-fed cattle returning from their pasture-grounds to their night quarters near the village of Eghellál, which lies at the foot of the mountain so named. They were fine, sturdy bullocks, of moderate size, all with the hump, and of glossy dark-brown colour. In the distance, as the Eghellál began to retire, there appeared behind it, in faint outlines, Mount Bághzen, which of late years has become so famous in Europe, and had filled my imagination with lofty crests and other features of romantic scenery. But how disappointed was I when, instead of all this, I saw it stretching along in one almost unbroken line! I soon turned my eyes from it to Mount Eghellál, which now disclosed to us a deep chasm or crevice (the channel of powerful floods), separating a broad cone, and apparently dividing the whole mountain mass into two distinct groups.
At six o’clock in the evening we encamped in the shallow valley of Eghellál, at some distance from the well, and were greatly delighted at being soon joined by Háj ʿAbdúwa, the son of Fátima (Ánnur’s eldest sister), and the chief’s presumptive heir, a man of about fifty years of age, and of intelligent and agreeable character. I treated him with a cup or two of coffee well sweetened, and conversed with him awhile about the difference between Egypt, which he had visited on his pilgrimage, and his own country. He was well aware of the immense superiority even of that state of society; but on the other hand he had not failed to observe the misery connected with great density of population, and he told me, with a certain degree of pride, that there were few people in Aïr so miserable as a large class of the inhabitants of Cairo. Being attacked by severe fever, he returned the next morning to his village, Táfidet, but afterwards accompanied the chief Astáfidet on his expedition to Ágades, where I saw him again. I met him also in the course of my travels twice in Kúkawa, whither he alone of all his tribe used to go in order to maintain friendly relations with that court, which was too often disturbed by the predatory habits of roving Kél-owí.
Sunday, October 6.—Starting early, we soon reached a more open country, which to the eye seemed to lean towards Mount Bághzen; but this was only an illusion, as appeared clearly from the direction of the dry watercourses, which all ran from east to west-south-west. On our right we had now Mount Ágata, which has given its name to the village mentioned above as lying at its foot. Here the fertility of the soil seemed greatly increased, the herbage becoming more fresh and abundant, while numerous talhas and abísgas adorned the country. Near the foot of the extensive mountain group of Bághzen, and close to another mountain called Ajúri, there are even some very favoured spots, especially a valley called Chímmia, ornamented with a fine date-grove, which produces fruit of excellent quality. As we entered the meandering windings of a broad watercourse we obtained an interesting view of Mount Belásega. The plain now contracted, and, on entering a narrow defile of the ridges, we had to cross a small pass, from the top of which a most charming prospect met our eyes.
A grand and beautifully shaped mountain rose on our right, leaving, between its base and the craggy heights, the offshoots of which we were crossing, a broad valley running almost east and west, while at the eastern foot of the mountain a narrow but richly adorned valley wound along through the lower rocky ground. This was Mount Abíla, or Bíla, which is at once one of the most picturesque objects in the country of Aír, and seems to bear an interesting testimony to a connection with that great family of mankind which we call the Semitic; for the name of this mountain, or rather of the moist and “green vale” at its foot (throughout the desert, even in its most favoured parts, it is the valley which generally gives its name to the mountain), is probably the same as that of the well-known spot in Syria from which the province of Abilene has been named.
A little beyond the first dry watercourse, where water was to be scooped out a few feet under the surface of the ground, we rested for the heat of the day; but the vegetation around was far from being so rich here as in the valley Tíggeda, at the eastern foot of the picturesque mountain, where, after a short march in the afternoon, we encamped for the night. This was the finest valley I had yet seen in the country. The broad sandy bed of the torrent, at present dry, was bordered with the most beautiful fresh grass, forming a fine turf, shaded by the richest and densest foliage of several kinds of mimosa, the tabórak or Balanites, the tághmart, the abísga, and tunfáfia, while over all this mass of verdure towered the beautiful peaks which on this side start forth from the massive mountain, the whole tinged with the varied tints of the setting sun. This delicious spectacle filled my heart with delight, and having sat down a little while quietly to enjoy it, I made a sketch of the beautiful forms of the mountain peaks. Just before encamping we had passed a small chapel in ruins, surrounded by a cemetery. At that time I thought this valley identical with the Tekádda (as the name is generally spelt), mentioned by Ebn Khaldún and by Ebn Batúta as an independent little Berber state between Gógo and Káhir, lying on the road of the pilgrims; but I found afterwards that there is another place which has better claims to this identification.
Monday, October 7.—We began a most interesting day’s march, winding first along the valley Tíggeda (which now, in the cool of the morning, was enlivened by numerous flocks of wild pigeons), and then over a short tract of rocky ground entering the still more picturesque “Erázar-n-Ásada,” on the west only lined by low rocky ridges, but bordered towards the east by the steep massive forms of the Dógem. Here, indeed, a really tropical profusion of vegetation covered the whole bottom of the valley, and scarcely left a narrow low passage for the camels, the rider being obliged to stoop every moment to avoid being swept off his seat. The principal tree here is the dúm-tree, or Cucifera Thebaïca, which I had not seen since Selúfiet; but here it was in the wild picturesque state into which it soon relapses if left to nature. There was, besides, a great variety of the acacia tribe, all growing most luxuriantly, and interwoven with creepers, which united the whole mass of vegetation into one thick canopy. I regret that there was no leisure for making a sketch, as this valley was far more picturesque even than Aúderas, of which I have been able to give the reader a slight outline.
In this interesting valley we met two droll and jovial-looking musicians, clad in a short and narrow blue shirt, well fastened round their loins, and a small straw hat. Each of them carried a large drum, or tímbali, with which they had been cheering the spirits of a wedding-party, and were now proceeding to some other place on a similar errand. We then met a large slave-caravan, consisting of about forty camels and sixty slaves, winding along the narrow path, hemmed in by the rank vegetation, and looking rather merry than sad, the poor blacks gladdened, doubtless, by the picturesque landscape, and keeping up a lively song in their native melody. In the train of this caravan, and probably interested in its lawless merchandise, went Snúsi and Awed el Khér, two of the camel-drivers with whom we had come from Múrzuk, and who probably had laid out the money gained from the English mission in the very article of trade which it is the desire of the English Government to prohibit. This is a sinister result of well-meant commercial impulses, which will probably subsist as long as the slave-trade itself exists on the north coast of Africa.[8]
On emerging from the thick forest, we obtained the first sight of the majestic cone of the Dógem, while a very narrow ravine or cleft in the steep cliffs on our left led to the village, Ásada. We then began to ascend, sometimes along narrow ravines, at others on sloping rocky ground, all covered with herbage up to the summits of the lower mountains. In this way we reached the highest point of the pass, about 2,500 feet, having the broad cone of the Dógem on our left, which I then thought to be the most elevated point in Aír, though, as I mentioned above, the old chief Ánnur maintained that the Tímge is higher. This conspicuous mountain most probably consists of basalt; and, from what I shall observe further on, it may be inferred that the whole group of the Bághzen does so too. From this pass we descended into the pebbly plain of Erázar-n-Déndemu, thickly overgrown with small talha-trees, and showing along the path numerous footprints of the lion, which are extremely common in these highland wildernesses, which, while affording sufficient vegetation and water for a variety of animals, are but thinly inhabited, and everywhere offer a safe retreat. However, from what I saw of him, he is not a very ferocious animal here.
The weather meanwhile had become sultry; and when, after having left the plain, we were winding through narrow glens, the storm, the last of the rainy season, broke out; and through the mismanagement of the slaves, not only our persons, but all our things were soaked with the rain. Our march became rather cheerless, everything being wet, and the whole ground covered with water, which along the watercourses formed powerful torrents. At length we entered the gloomy, rugged valley of Tághist, covered with basaltic stones, mostly of the size of a child’s head, and bordered by sorry-looking rocky hills.
Tághist is remarkable as the place of prayer founded by the man who introduced Islám into Central Negroland,[9] and thus gave the first impulse to that continual struggle which, always extending further and further, seems destined to overpower the nations at the very equator, if Christianity does not presently step in to dispute the ground with it. This man was the celebrated Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím ben Maghíli, a native of Búda, in Tawát,[10] and a contemporary and intimate friend of the Sheikh eʾ Soyúti, that living encyclopædia and key-stone, if I may be allowed the expression, of Mohammedan learning.
Living in the time when the great Sónghay empire began to decline from that pitch of power which it had reached under the energetic sway of Sónni ʿAli and Mohammed el Háj Áskia, and stung by the injustice of Áskia Ismʿaíl, who refused to punish the murderers of his son, he turned his eyes on the country where successful resistance had first been made against the all-absorbing power of the Asáki, and which, fresh and youthful as it was, promised a new splendour, if enlightened by the influence of a purer religion. Instigated by such motives, partly merely personal, partly of a more elevated character, Mohammed ben ʿAbd el Kerím turned his steps towards Kátsena, where we shall find him again; but on his way thither he founded in this spot a place of prayer, to remain a monument to the traveller of the path which the religion of the One God took from the far east to the country of the blacks. The “msíd,” or “mesálla,” at present is only marked by stones laid out in a regular way, and enclosing a space from sixty to seventy feet long, and fifteen broad, with a small mehhráb, which is adorned (accidentally or intentionally, I cannot say) by a young talha-tree. This is the venerated and far-famed “Makám eʾ Sheikh ben ʿAbd el Kerím,” where the traveller coming from the north never omits to say his prayers; others call it Msíd Sídi Baghdádi, the name Baghdádi being often given by the blacks to the Sheikh, who had long resided in the east.
At length we descended from the rugged ground of Tághist into the commencement of the celebrated valley of Aúderas, the fame of which penetrated to Europe many years ago. Here we encamped, wet as we were, on the slope of the rocky ground, in order to guard against the humidity of the valley. Opposite to us, towards the south, on the top of a hill, lay the little village Aërwen wan Tídrak. Another village, called Ífarghén, is situated higher up the valley, on the road from Aúderas to Damerghú. On our return I saw in this valley a barbarous mode of tillage, three slaves being yoked to a sort of plough, and driven like oxen by their master. This is probably the most southern place in Central Africa where the plough is used; for all over Sudán the hoe or fertaña is the only instrument used for preparing the ground.
Tuesday, October 8.—While the weather was clear and fine, the valley, bordered on both sides by steep precipices, and adorned with a rich grove of dúm-trees, and bush and herbage in great variety, displayed its mingled beauties, chiefly about the well, where, on our return journey, I made the accompanying sketch. This valley, as well as those succeeding it, is able to produce not only millet, but even wheat, wine, and dates, with almost every species of vegetable; and there are said to be fifty garden fields (gónaki) near the village of Ífarghén. But too soon we left this charming strip of cultivation, and ascended the rocky ground on our right, above which again rose several detached hills, one of which had so interesting and well-marked a shape that I sketched its outlines. The road which we followed is not the common one. The latter, after crossing very rugged ground for about fifteen miles, keeps along the fine deep valley Télwa for about ten miles, and then ascending for about an hour, reaches Ágades in three hours more. This latter road passes by Tímelén, where at times a considerable market is said to be held. Having descended again, we found the ground in the plain covered with a thin crust of natron, and further on met people busy in collecting it; but it is not of very good quality, nor at all comparable to that of Múnio or to that of the shores of Lake Tsád. There are several places on the border between the desert and the fertile districts of Negroland which produce this mineral, which forms a most important article of commerce in Middle Sudán. Another well-known natron district is in Zabérma; but in Western Sudán natron is almost unknown, and it is only very rarely that a small sample of it can be got in Timbúktu. Many of the Kél-owí have learnt (most probably from the Tedá or Tébu) the disgusting custom of chewing tobacco intermixed with natron, while only very few of them smoke.
The monotony of the country ceased when we entered the valley Búdde, which, running in the direction of our path from south-south-west to north-north-east, is adorned with a continuous strip of dúm-trees, besides abísga and talha; but the latter were of rather poor growth in the northern part of the valley. Having crossed at noon the broad sandy watercourse, which winds through the rich carpet of vegetation, and where there happened to be a tolerably large pond of water, we encamped in the midst of the thicket. Here the mimosas attained such an exuberance as I had scarcely observed even in the valley Ásada, and being closely interwoven with “gráffeni” or climbing plants, they formed an almost impenetrable thicket. From the midst of this thorny mass of vegetation a beautiful ripe fruit, about an inch and a half long, of the size of a date and of dark-red colour, awakened the desire of the traveller; but having eaten a few, I found them, though sweet, rather mawkish.
Here too I first became acquainted with the troublesome nature of the “karéngia,” or Pennisetum distichum, which, together with the ant, is to the traveller in Central Africa his greatest and most constant inconvenience. It was just ripe, and the little burr-like seeds attached themselves to every part of my dress. It is quite necessary to be always provided with small pincers, in order to draw out from the fingers the little stings, which, if left in the skin, will cause sores. None even of the wild roving natives is ever without such an instrument. But it is not a useless plant; for, besides being the most nourishing food for cattle, it furnishes even man with a rather slight, but by no means tasteless food. Many of the Tuarek, from Bórnu as far as Timbúktu, subsist more or less upon the seeds of the Pennisetum distichum, which they call “úzak.” The drink made of it is certainly not bad, resembling in coolness the fúra or ghussub-water.
From the circumstance that our Kél-owí were here cutting grass for the camels, I concluded that the next part of our journey would lead through an entirely sterile tract; but though the herbage was here exuberant, it was not at all wanting further on. Having left the valley awhile to our right, we soon re-entered it, and crossed several beautiful branches of it very rich in vegetation. We then encamped on an open place beyond the southernmost branch, close to a cemetery of the Imghád who inhabit a small village to the east called Tawár Nwaijdúd, and further on some other villages, called Téndau, Tintabórak, and Emélloli. While, with the rest of our companions, we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the hard ground and under the open canopy of heaven, Hámma and Mohammed took up their quarters with the Imghád, and, according to their own statement on their return the following morning, were very hospitably treated, both by the male and female part of the inhabitants. As for the Imghád who live in these fertile valleys round Ágades, they are divided into numerous sections, of which I learnt the following names: the Ehér-heren, the Kél-chísem, the Taranaiji, the Edárreban, the Yowúswosan, the Efeléngeras, the Éheten, the Tariwáza, the Ihíngemángh, the Egemmén, the Edellén, the Kél-tédele, and the Ikóhanén.
Wednesday, October 9.—Our route led us over stony ground till we reached another favoured valley, called Tefárrakad, where, owing to the watercourse being divided into several branches, vegetation is spread over a larger space. Here, while our Kél-owí hung a little behind, two Imghád, mounted on camels, attached themselves to us and became rather troublesome; but they looked so famished and thin that they awakened pity rather than any other feeling, their dress and whole attire being of the poorest description. Further on, when we had left the valley and ascended rocky ground, we met a small caravan of the same mixed kind as our own troop—camels, bullocks, asses, and men on foot; they were returning to their village with provision of Negro millet, which they had bought in Ágades.
We had scarcely advanced three miles when we descended again into another long, beautiful hollow in the rocky ground, the valley Bóghel, which, besides a fine grove of dúm-trees, exhibits one very large and remarkable specimen of the tree called baure[11] in Háusa, a large ficus with ample fleshy leaves of beautiful green. This specimen, so far to the north, measured not less than twenty-six feet in circumference at the height of eight feet from the ground, and was certainly eighty feet high, with a full, widespreading crown. I scarcely remember afterwards to have seen in all Sudán a larger baure than this. Here, for the first time, I heard the Guinea-fowl (“táliat” or “tailelt” in Temashight, “zabó” in Háusa); for I did not see it, the birds keeping to the thick and impenetrable underwood which filled the intervals between the dúm-trees.
At noon the wood, which was rather more than half a mile in breadth, formed one continued and unbroken cluster of thicket, in the most picturesque state of wild luxuriance, while further on, where it became a little clearer of underwood, the ground was covered with a sort of wild melon; but my friend the blacksmith, who took up one of them and applied his teeth to it, threw it away with such a grimace that I rather suspect he mistook a colocynth, “jan-gunna,” for a melon, “gunna.” Numbers of the Asclepias gigantea, which never grows on a spot incapable of cultivation, bore testimony to the fertility of the soil, which was soon more clearly demonstrated by a small corn-field still under cultivation. Traces of former cultivation were evident on all sides. There can scarcely be the least doubt that these valleys, which were expressly left to the care of the degraded tribes or the Imghád, on condition of their paying from the produce a certain tribute to their masters, once presented a very different aspect; but when the power of the ruler of Ágades dwindled away to a shadow, and when the Imghád, who received from him their kaid or governor, “tágaza,” ceased to fear him, preferring robbery and pillage to the cultivation of the ground, these fine valleys were left to themselves, and relapsed into a wilderness.
We encamped at an early hour in the afternoon near the watercourse, but did not succeed in obtaining water by digging, so that we could not even cook a little supper. Further down the valley there had been a copious supply of water; and we had passed there a numerous caravan of asses near a large pool; but my companions, who were extremely negligent in this respect, would not then lay in a supply. Several Tuarek, or rather Imóshagh and Imghád, encamped around us for the night, and thus showed that we were approaching a centre of intercourse.
Thursday, October 10.—Owing to our want of water, we started at a very early hour, and, ascending gradually, after a little more than three miles, reached the height of the pebbly plateau on which the town of Ágades has been built. After having received several accounts of this naked “hammáda” or “ténere” stretching out to the distance of several days, I was agreeably surprised to find that it was by no means so dreary and monotonous as I had been led to expect, forming now and then shallow depressions a few feet only lower than the pebbly surface, and sometimes extending to a considerable distance, where plenty of herbage and middle-sized acacia were growing. The road was now becoming frequented, and my companions, with a certain feeling of pride, showed me in the distance the high “Mesállaje,” or minaret, the glory of Ágades. Having obtained a supply of water, and quenched our thirst, to my great astonishment we proceeded to encamp at half-past seven in the morning in one of these shallow hollows; and I learnt that we were to stay here the whole day till near sunset, in order to enter the town in the dark.
We were here met by two horsemen from Ágades (the son of the kádhi and a companion), who, I suppose, had come out on purpose to see us. They had a very chevaleresque look, and proved highly interesting to me, as they were the first horsemen I had seen in the country. The son of the kádhi, who was a fine, tall man, was well dressed in a tobe and trousers of silk and cotton; he carried only an iron spear besides his sword and dagger, but no shield. But for me the most interesting part of their attire was their stirrups, which are almost European in shape, but made of copper. Of this metal were made also the ornaments on the harness of their horses; their saddles also were very unlike what I had yet seen in these countries, and nearly the same as the old Arab saddle, which differs little from the English.
While encamped here, I bought from Hámma a black Sudán tobe, which, worn over another very large white tobe or shirt, and covered with a white bernús, gave me an appearance more suited to the country, while the stains of indigo soon made my complexion a few shades darker. This exterior accommodation to the custom of the natives my friend Hámma represented as essential for securing the success of my undertaking; and it had, besides, the advantage that it gave rise to the rumour that the Sultan of Ágades himself had presented me with this dress.
At length, when the sun was almost down, and when it was known that the Kél-gerés and Itísan (who had come to Ágades in very great numbers, in order to proceed on their journey to Bilma after the investiture of the new Sultan) had retreated to their encampments at some distance from the town, we started, and were soon met by several people, who came to pay their compliments to my companions. On entering the town, we passed through a half-deserted quarter, and at length reached the house of Ánnur, where we were to take up our abode. But arriving in a new place at night is never very pleasant, and must be still less so where there are no lamps; it therefore took us some time to make ourselves tolerably comfortable. But I was fortunate in receiving hospitable treatment from our travelling companion ʿAbd el Káder, who, being lodged in a chamber close to mine, sent me a well-prepared dish of kuskusu, made of Indian corn. I could not relish the rice sent by one of Ánnur’s wives, who resides here, owing to its not being seasoned with any salt, a practice to which I became afterwards more accustomed, but which rather astonished me in a country the entire trade of which consists in salt.
Having spread my mat and carpet on the floor, I slept well, in the pleasing consciousness of having successfully reached this first object of my desires, and dreaming of the new sphere of inquiry on which I had entered.