Thursday, December 12.—At length the day broke when we were to move on and get nearer the longed-for object of our journey, though we were aware that our first progress would be slow. But before we departed from this region, which had become so familiar to us, I wished to take a last glimpse down the valley towards Tin-téllust, and wandered towards the offshoots of Mount Búnday, which afforded me a fine prospect over the whole valley up to that beautiful mountain mass which forms so characteristic a feature in the configuration of the whole country. The hills which I ascended consisted of basalt, and formed a low ridge, which was separated from the principal mountain mass by a hollow of sandstone formation. Having bade farewell to the blue mountains of Tin-téllust, I took leave of the charming little valley Ofáyet, which, having been a few moments previously a busy scene of life, was now left to silence and solitude.

Late in the morning we began to move, but very slowly, halting every now and then. At length the old chief himself came up, walking like a young man before his méheri, which he led by the nose-cord, and the varied groups composing the caravan began to march more steadily. It was a whole nation in motion, the men on camels or on foot, the women on bullocks or on asses, with all the necessaries of the little household, as well as the houses themselves, a herd of cattle, another of milk-goats, and numbers of young camels running playfully alongside, and sometimes getting between the regular lines of the laden animals. The ground was very rocky and rugged, and looked bare and desolate in the extreme, the plain being strewn for a while with loose basaltic stones, like the Plain of Tághist.

Several high peaks characterize this volcanic region, and after having left to our right the peak called Ebárrasa, we encamped, a little before noon, at the north-eastern foot of a very conspicuous peak called Teléshera, which had long attracted my attention. We had scarcely chosen our ground when I set out on foot in order to ascend this high mountain, from which I expected to obtain a view over the eastern side of the picturesque mass of the Eghellál; but its ascent proved very difficult, chiefly because I had not exerted my strength much during our long stay in this country. The flanks of the peak, after I had ascended the offshoots, which consisted of sandstones, were most precipitous and abrupt, and covered with loose stones, which gave way under my feet, and often carried me a long way down. The summit consisted of perpendicular trachytic pillars, of quadrangular and almost regular form, 2½ ft. in thickness, as if cut by the hand of man, some of them about one hundred feet high, while others had been broken off at greater or less height. It is at least fifteen hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. The view was interesting, although the sky was not clear. I was able to take several angles, but the western flank of the Eghellál, which I was particularly anxious to obtain a sight of, was covered by other heights.

Beyond the branch wady which surrounds this mountain on the south side, there is a ridge ranging to a greater length, and rising from the ground with a very precipitous wall; this was examined by Mr. Overweg, and found to consist likewise of trachyte interspersed with black basaltic stone and crystals of glassy felspar. Having attained my purpose, I began my retreat, but found the descent more troublesome than the ascent, particularly as my boots were torn to pieces by the sharp stones; and the fragments giving way under my feet, I fell repeatedly. I was quite exhausted when I reached the tent, but a cup of strong coffee soon restored me. However, I never afterwards on my whole journey felt strong enough to ascend a mountain of moderate elevation.

Friday, December 13.—Starting rather late, we continued through the mountainous region, generally ascending, while a cold wind made our old friend the chief shiver and regard with feelings of envy my thick black bernús, although he had got bernúses enough from us not only to protect him against cold, but us too against any envious feeling for the little which was left us. Further on, in several places, the granite (which at the bottom of the valley alternates with sandstone) was perfectly disintegrated, and had become like meal. Here the passage narrowed for about an hour, when we obtained a view of a long range stretching out before us, with a considerable cone lying in front of it. Keeping now over rocky ground, then along the bottom of a valley called Tánegat, about half a mile broad, where we passed a well on our right, we at length reached a mountain spur starting off from the ridge on our right, and entered a beautiful broad plain, stretching out to the foot of a considerable mountain group, which was capped by a remarkable picturesquely indented cone called Mári. Here we saw the numerous camels of the salt caravan grazing in the distance to our left; and after having crossed a small rocky flat, we encamped in the very channel of the torrent, being certain that at this season no such danger as overwhelmed us in the valley Éghazar was to be feared. Ámagay, who was still with us, paid me a visit in the afternoon, and had a cup of coffee; he also came the next morning. Near our encampment were some fine acacia-trees of the species called gáwo, which I shall have to mention repeatedly in my travels.

Saturday, December 14.—We started early, but encamped, after a short march of about six miles, on uneven ground intersected by numbers of small ridges. The reason of the halt was that the whole of the caravan was to come up and to join together; and our old chief here put on his official dress (a yellow bernús of good quality), to show his dignity as leader of such a host of people.

Salt forms the only article conveyed by this caravan. The form of the largest cake is very remarkable; but it must be borne in mind that the salt in Bilma is in a fluid state, and is formed into this shape by pouring it into a wooden mould. This pedestal or loaf of salt (kántu) is equal to five of the smaller cakes, which are called áserím; and each áserím equals four of the smallest cakes, which are called fótu. The bags, made of the leaves of the dúm-palm (or the “kábba”), in which these loaves are packed up, are called “tákrufa.” But the finest salt is generally in loose grains, and this is the only palatable salt, while the ordinary salt of Bilma is very bitter to the European palate, and spoils everything; but the former is more than three times the value of the latter. The price paid in Bilma is but two zékkas for three kántus.

In the evening there was “urgí,” or “éddil” (playing), and “ráwa,” or “adéllul” (dancing), all over the large camp of the salt caravan, and the drummers, or “masugánga,” were all vying with each other, when I observed that our drummer, Hassan, who was proud of his talent, and used to call for a little present, was quite outdone by the drummer of that portion of the caravan which was nearest to us, who performed his work with great skill, and caused general enthusiasm among the dancing people. The many lively and merry scenes, ranging over a wide district, itself picturesque, and illuminated by large fires in the dusk of evening, presented a cheerful picture of animated native life, looking at which a traveller might easily forget the weak points discoverable in other phases of life in the desert.

Sunday, December 15.—The general start of the united “aïri,” or caravan, took place with great spirit; and a wild, enthusiastic cry, raised over the whole extent of the encampment, answered to the beating of the drums. For though the Kél-owí are greatly civilized by the influence of the black population, nevertheless they are still “half demons,” while the thoroughbred and freeborn Amóshagh (whatever name he may bear, whether Tárki, ba-Ásbenchi, Kindín, or Chapáto) is regarded by all the neighbouring tribes, Arabs as well as Africans, as a real demon (“jin”). Notwithstanding all this uproar, we were rather astonished at the small number of camels, laden with salt, which formed Ánnur’s caravan; for they did not exceed two hundred, and their loads in the aggregate would realize in Kanó at the very utmost three thousand dollars, which, if taken as the principal revenue of the chief, seems very little. The whole number of the caravan did not exceed two thousand camels.

However enthusiastically the people had answered to the call of the drums, the loading of the camels took a long time, and the old chief himself had remarkably few people to get ready his train; but the reason probably was that he was obliged to leave as many people behind as possible for the security of the country. When at length we set out, the view which presented itself was really highly exciting; for here a whole nation was in motion, going on its great errand of supplying the wants of other tribes, and bartering for what they stood in need of themselves. All the drums were beating, and one string of camels after the other marched up in martial order, led on by the “mádogu,” the most experienced and steadfast among the servants or followers of each chief. It was clear that our last night’s encampment had been chosen only on account of its being well protected all around by ridges of rock; for on setting out to-day we had to follow up, in the beginning, a course due west, in order to return into our main direction along the valley. We then gradually began to turn round the very remarkable Mount Mári, which here assumed the figure shown in the sketch. Further on I saw the people busy in digging up a species of edible bulbous roots called “adíllewan” by the Kél-owí. This, I think, besides the “bába,” or “níle” (the Indigofera endecaphylla) the first specimens of which we had observed two days ago shooting up unostentatiously among the herbage, was the most evident proof that we had left the region of the true desert, though we had still to cross a very sterile tract.

Having changed our direction from south to south-west, about noon we entered the high road coming directly from Ásodi, but which was, in fact, nothing better than a narrow pathway. Here we were winding through a labyrinth of large detached projecting blocks, while Mount Mári presented itself in an entirely different shape. Gradually the bottom of the valley became free from blocks, and we were crossing and recrossing the bed of the watercourse, when we met a small caravan belonging to my friend the Emgédesi Ídder, who had been to Damerghú to buy corn. Shortly afterwards, we encamped at the side of the watercourse, which is called Adóral, and which joins, further downwards, another channel, called Wéllek, which runs close along the western range. Here we saw the first specimens of the pendent nests of the weaver bird (Ploceus Abyssiniacus).

While I was filling up my journal in the afternoon I received a visit from Mohammed Byrji, who had this morning left Tin-téggana; he informed me that the women and the old men whom we had left there had not returned to Tin-téllust, but had gone to Tintághalén. All the population of the other villages in the northern districts of Aír were likewise retreating southwards during the absence of the salt caravan.

Monday, December 16.—On starting this morning we were glad to find some variety in the vegetation; for instead of the monotonous talha-trees, which with some justice have been called “vegetable mummies,” the whole valley-plain was adorned with beautiful spreading addwa- or tabórak-trees (the Balanites Ægyptiaca), the foliage of which often reached down to the very ground, forming a dense canopy of the freshest green. After winding along and crossing and recrossing the small channel, the path ascended the rocky ground, and we soon got sight of the mountains of Bághzen, looking out from behind the first mountain range, from whose southern end a point called Ánfisék rises to a considerable elevation. This higher level, however, was not bare and naked, but overgrown with the “knotted” grass bú rékkebah, and with the addwa- and gawo-tree, while on our left the broad but nevertheless sharply marked peak of Mount Mári towered over the whole, and gave to the landscape a peculiar character. At an early hour we encamped between buttresses of scattered blocks shooting out of the plain, which seems to stretch to the very foot of the Bághzen, and to be noted pre-eminently as the Plain, “erárar.”

In the afternoon I walked to a considerable distance, first to a hill south-west from our camp, from which I was able to take several angles, and then to the well. The latter was at the distance of a mile and a half from our tent in a westerly direction, and was carefully walled up with stones; it measured three fathoms and a half to the surface of the water, while the depth of the water itself was at present little less than three fathoms, so that it is evident that there is water here at all seasons. Its name is Albes. As, on account of our slow travelling, we had been four days without water, the meeting with a well was rather agreeable to us. Between the well and the foot of the mountain there was a temporary encampment of shepherds, who sent a sheep and a good deal of cheese to the old chief.

Here we remained the two following days, in order to repose from the fatigue of our sham travelling! I went once more all over my Emgédesi collection, and made a present to the servants of the mission, of twenty-two zékkas of Bílma dates, which I bought from the people of the caravan; they were all thankful for this little present. I was extremely glad to find that even the Tunisian shushán, when he had to receive orders only from me, behaved much better; and I wrote from his recital a Góber story which, as being characteristic of the imagination of the natives, and illustrating their ancient Pagan worship of the dodó, might perhaps prove of interest even to the general reader. The several divisions of the “aïri” came slowly up; among them we observed the Kél-azanéres, the people of Lúsu, the chief himself having gone on in advance, as I observed above.

Thursday, Dec. 19.—Our heavy caravan at length set out again, the camels having now recovered a little from the trying march over the naked desert which divides the mountainous district of Asben from the “hénderi-Tedá,” the fertile hollow of the Tébu country. It attracted my attention that the shrubby and thick-leaved “allwot” (the blue Cucifera mentioned before) had ceased altogether; even the eternal bú rékkebah began to be scarce, while only a few solitary trees were scattered about. While marching over this dreary plain, we noticed some Tébu merchants, natives of Dírki, with only three camels, who had come with the salt caravan from Bílma, and were going to Kanó; from them we learnt that a Tébu caravan had started from Kawár for Bórnu at the time of the ʿAïd el kebír. The example of these solitary travellers, indeed, might perhaps be followed with advantage by Europeans also, in order to avoid the country of the Azkár and the insecure border districts of the Kél-owí, especially if they chose to stay in the Tébu oasis till they had obtained the protection of one of the great men of this country. For a little while the plain was adorned with talha-trees; but then it became very rugged, like a rough floor of black basalt, through which wound a narrow path, pressing the whole caravan into one long string. At length, at half-past two o’clock in the afternoon, after having traversed extremely rugged ground, we began to descend from this broad basaltic level, and having crossed the dry watercourse of a winter torrent, entered the valley Télliya, which has a good supply of trees, but very little herbage. A cemetery here gave indication of the occasional or temporary residence of nomadic settlers.

On ascending again from the bottom of the valley to a higher level, and looking backwards, we obtained a fine view of Mount Ajúri, at the foot of which lies Chémia, a valley and village celebrated for its date-trees. It was not our fate to see any of those places in Asben which are distinguished by the presence of this tree—neither the valley just mentioned, nor Iferwán, nor Ir-n-Allem; and a visit to them will form one of the interesting objects of some future traveller in this country. Having kept along the plain for an hour, we encamped at a little distance west from the dry bed of a watercourse running from north to south along the eastern foot of a low basaltic ridge, with a fine display of trees, but a scanty one of herbage. I went to ascend the ridge, supposing it to be connected with the Bághzen, but found that it was completely separated from the latter by a depression or hollow quite bare and naked.

This was the best point from whence to obtain a view over the eastern flank of Mount Bághzen, with its deep crevices or ravines, which seemed to separate the mountain mass into several distinct groups; and in the evening I made the sketch of it given here.

However, we had full leisure to contemplate this mountain, which is not distinguished by great elevation, the highest peaks being little more than two thousand feet above the plain; but it is interesting, as consisting probably of basaltic formation. We stayed here longer than we desired, as we did not find an opportunity to penetrate into the glens in its interior, which, from this place seem excessively barren, but are said to contain some favoured and inhabited spots, where even corn is reared. But our companions spoke with timorous exclamations of the numbers of lions which infest these retired mountain passes, and not one of them would offer himself as a companion. The reason of our longer stay in this place was that our camels had strayed to a very great distance southwards, so that they could not be found in the forenoon of the following day. The blame of letting them stray was thrown upon Hassan, whose inferiority as a drummer I had occasion to notice above. How he was punished Mr. Richardson has described; and I will only add that the handkerchief which he paid was to be given to the “serkí-n-kárfi” (“the taskmaster,” properly “the master of the iron” or “of the force”); but the whole affair was rather a piece of pleasantry.

In the morning Mghás, the chief of Téllwa, a fine, sturdy man, mounted upon a strong grey horse, passed by, going southward, followed by a long string of camels; and shortly afterwards a small caravan of people of Selúfiet, who had bought corn in Damerghú, passed in the opposite direction.

Saturday, Dec. 21.—The weather was clear and cheerful, and the sun was warmer than hitherto. We went on, and approached a district more favoured by nature, when, having passed an irregular formation in a state of great decomposition, we reached, about ten o’clock, the valley Unán, or rather a branch wady of the chief valley of that name, where dúm-palms began to appear, at first solitary and scattered about, but gradually forming a handsome grove, particularly after the junction with the chief valley, where a thick cluster of verdure, formed by a variety of trees, greeted the eye. There is also a village of the name of Unán, lying on the border of the principal valley a little higher up, and wells occur in different spots. But the valley was not merely rich in vegetation—it was the richest, indeed, as yet seen on this road—it was also enlivened by man; and after we had met two Íghdalén whom I had known in Ágades, we passed a large troop of Ikádmawen, who were busy watering their camels, cattle, and goats at one of the wells. We also saw here the first specimens of stone houses which characterize the district to which the valley Unán forms the entrance-hall, if I may use the expression. On its western side is an irregular plain, where a division of the salt caravan lay encamped.

Proceeding then, after midday we passed by a low white cone on our left, after which the valley, with its variety of vegetation, and animated as it was by numerous herds of goats, made a cheerful impression. Here the remains of stone dwellings became numerous, and further on we passed an entire village consisting of such houses, which, as I was distinctly informed, constituted in former times one of the principal settlements of the Kél-gerés, who were then masters of all the territory as far as the road to Ágades. The whole valley here formed a thick grove of dúm-palms, and stone houses, entire or in ruins, were scattered all about. About three o’clock in the afternoon we left it for an hour, traversing a rocky flat with a low ridge of basalt ranging on our right, when we descended again into the dúm valley, which had been winding round on the same side, and encamped, at half-past four o’clock in the afternoon, in the midst of very wild and rank vegetation, nourished by an immense torrent, which occasionally rolls its floods along the channel, and which had left, on the stems of the baggarúwa-trees with which it was lined, evident traces of the depth which it may sometimes attain. The bed of the torrent was thickly overgrown with wild melons.

Although there is no well in the neighbourhood, we were to stay here the two following days, in order to give the camels a good feed. A well, called Tánis-n-tánode, lies lower down the valley, but at a considerable distance. The valley itself runs south-westward: by some it is said to join the Erázar-n-Bargót; but this seems scarcely possible. Numerous flocks of wild pigeons passed over our heads the following morning, looking for water. The monotony of the halt was interrupted, in the course of the day, by the arrival of Hámma, who had been to Afasás, and by that of Astáfidet, the young titular Kél-owí chief residing in Ásodi, among whose companions or followers was a very intelligent and communicative man of the name of el Hasár, who gave me a great deal of interesting information. All the eminences in the neighbourhood consist of basaltic formation.

Tuesday, Dec. 24.—We again moved on a little, following the rich valley, which in some places reminded me of the scenery of the Upper Nile, the only difference being that here the broad sandy bottom of the watercourse takes the place of the fine river in the scenery of Nubia. We made a short halt on the road, in order to supply ourselves with water from the well which I mentioned before. About noon the fresh, fleshy allwot, which had not been observed by us for several days, again appeared, to the great delight of the camels, which like it more than anything else, and, having been deprived of it for some time, attacked it with the utmost greediness. Two miles and a half further on, where the valley widened to a sort of irregular plain with several little channels, we encamped; there was a profusion of herbage all around.

It was Christmas Eve, but we had nothing to celebrate it with, and we were cast down by the sad news of the appearance of the cholera in Tripoli. This we had learned during our march, from a small caravan which had left that place three months previously without bringing us a single line, or even as much as a greeting. The eternal bitter “túwo” was to be devoured to-day also, as we had no means of adding a little festivity to our repast. We remained here the two following days, and were entertained on the morning of Christmas Day by a performance of Astáfidet’s musicians. This was a somewhat cheerful holiday entertainment, although our visitors had not that object in view, but merely plied their talents to obtain a present. There were only two of them, a drummer and a flautist; and though they did not much excel the other virtuosi of the country, whose abilities we had already tested, nevertheless, having regard to the occasion, we were greatly pleased with them. Here I took leave of my best Kél-owí friend, Hámma, a trustworthy man in every respect—except, perhaps, as regards the softer sex—and a cheerful companion, to whom the whole mission, and I in particular, were under great obligations. He, as well as Mohammed Byrji, the youthful grandson of Ánnur, who accompanied him on this occasion, were to return hence with Astáfidet, in order to assist this young titular prince in his arduous task of maintaining order in the country during the absence of the old chief and the greater part of the male population of the north-eastern districts. They were both cheerful, though they felt some sorrow at parting; but they consoled themselves with the hope of seeing me again one day. But, poor fellows, they were both doomed to fall in the sanguinary struggle which broke out between the Kél-gerés and the Kél-owí in 1854.