The country continued rugged and rocky, though it was occasionally interrupted by cultivated ground, and a mountain group of interesting form, called Kónkel, stood out on our right.

Having entered at eight o’clock upon cultivated ground of great extent, we reached a quarter of an hour afterwards Bélem, the residence of Mʿallem Dalíli, a man whom I had heard much praised in Saráwu. Bíllama wished to spend the day here, but I was very anxious to proceed, as we had already lost the preceding day; but at the same time I desired to make the acquaintance of, and to pay my respects to, a person whom every one praised for his excellent qualities. I therefore sent forward the camels with the men on foot, while I myself entered the village with the horsemen. Crossing a densely inhabited quarter, we found the mʿallem sitting under a tree in his courtyard, a venerable and benevolent-looking old man, in a threadbare blue shirt and a green “báki-n-záki.” We had scarcely paid our respects to him, and he had asked a few general questions in Arabic, when an Arab adventurer from Jedda, with the title of sheríf, who had roved a good deal about the world, made his appearance, and was very inquisitive to know the motives which had carried me into this remote country; and Bú-Sʿad thought it prudent to pique his curiosity, by telling him that we had come to search for the gold and silver in the mountains. Old Mʿallem Dalíli soon after began to express himself to the effect that he should feel offended if I would not stay with him till the afternoon; and I was at length obliged to send for the camels, which had already gone on a good way.

A rather indifferent lodging being assigned to me, I took possession of the shade of a rími, or béntehi,—the bentang-tree of Mungo Park (Eriodendron Guineense), of rather small size, and there tried to resign myself quietly to the loss of another day, while in truth I burned with impatience to see the river which was the first and most important object of my journey. However, my quarters soon became more interesting to me, as I observed here several peculiarities of arrangement, which, while they were quite new to me, were most characteristic of the equatorial regions which I was approaching. For while in Bórnu and Háusa it is the general custom to expose the horses, even very fine ones, to all changes of the weather,—which on the whole are not very great,—in these regions, where the wet season is of far longer duration and the rains much heavier, it is not prudent to leave the animals unsheltered, and stables are built for them on purpose,—round spacious huts with unusually high clay walls; these are called “debbíru” by the Fúlbe of Ádamáwa, from the Háusa word “débbi.” Even for the cattle there was here a stable, but more airy, consisting only of a thatched roof supported by thick poles, and enclosed with a fence of thorny bushes.

The vegetation in the place was very rich, and an experienced botanist might have found many new species of plants, while to me the most remarkable circumstance was the quantity of Palma Christi scattered about the place, a single specimen of the gónda-tree, and the first specimen of a remarkable plant which I had not observed before on my travels,—a smooth soft stem about ten inches thick at the bottom, and shooting up to a height of about twenty-five feet, but drawn downwards and inclined by the weight and size of its leaves, which measured six feet in length and about twenty inches in breadth. The Háusa people gave it the name “alléluba,” a name generally given to quite a different tree which I have mentioned in speaking of Kanó. The plant bears some resemblance to the Musa, or banana; fruits or flowers it had none at present.

I had been roving about for some time when the sheríf, whom I mentioned above, came to pay me a visit, when I learned that he had come to this place by way of Wadáy and Logón, and that he had been staying here already twenty days, being engaged in building a warm bath for the mʿallem, as he had also done for the sultan of Wadáy.

The reader sees that these wandering Arabs are introducing civilization into the very heart of this continent, and it would not be amiss if they could all boast of such accomplishments; but this rarely happens. Even this very man was a remarkable example of these saintly adventurers so frequently met with in Negroland, but who begin to tire out the patience of the more enlightened princes of the country. He brought me a lump of native home-made soap, with which, as he said, I might “wash my clothes, as I came from the dirty, soapless country of Bórnu.” This present was not ill-selected, although I hope that the reader will not thence conclude that I was particularly dirty,—at least, not more so than an African traveller might be fairly expected to be. I had laid in a good store of cloves, which, as I have had already occasion to mention, are highly esteemed here, so I made him very happy by giving him about half-a-pound weight of them.

More interesting, however, to me than the visit of this wandering son of the East was the visit of two young native noblemen, sons of the Ardo Jídda, to whom belongs the country between Sugúr and Wándalá or Mándará, and the younger of whom was a remarkably handsome man, of slender form, light complexion, and a most agreeable expression of countenance. This, however, is a remark which I have often made on my travels, that the males among the Fúlbe are very handsome till they reach the age of about twenty years, when they gradually assume an apish expression of countenance, which entirely spoils the really Circassian features which they have in early life. As for the females, they preserve their beauty much longer. While these young men were giving unrestrained vent to their admiration of my things, the old mʿallem came with a numerous suite of attendants; whereupon they drew shyly back, and sat silently at a distance. In this part of the world there is a great respect for age.

The mʿallem and his companions were not only astonished at my instruments, but manifested much curiosity about the map of Africa, which I unfolded before their eyes, being greatly struck by the extent of the continent towards the south, of which they had previously no idea. I shall show in another part of this work how far the Fúlbe have become acquainted with the regions about the equator, and how a faint rumour of the strong pagan kingdom of Muropúwe has spread over the kingdoms of North Central Africa. Their esteem for me increased when I showed them my little Prayer-Book, which I wore in a red case slung round my shoulders, just as they wear their Kurán; indeed a Christian can never be more sure of acquiring the esteem of a Moslim—at least of a learned one—than when he shows himself impressed with the sentiments of his religion; but he must not be a zealous Roman Catholic, nor broach doctrines which seem to deny the Unity of God. He took great delight in hearing a psalm of the well-known “nebí Dáúd” (David) read in English. He, as well as almost all his companions, spoke Arabic; for, as Saráwu Beréberé is a colony of Bórnu people, Bélem is a pure Arabic colony, that is to say, a colony of the Sálamát, a tribe widely scattered over Bórnu and Wadáy. Mʿallem Óro, or, as he is popularly called, on account of his humility and devotedness, Mʿallem Dalíli, was born in Wadáy, but settled in Bórnu, from whence at the time of the conquest of the country by the Fúlbe or Felláta (in the year 1808) he fled to avoid famine and oppression, like so many other unfortunate inhabitants of that kingdom, and founded a village in this promising region. This is the country for colonies, and I do not see why a colony of the liberated slaves of Sierra Leone might not be advantageously established here. All these people wear indigo-coloured shirts, and in this manner, even by their dress, are distinguished from the Fúlbe. They are tolerated and protected, although a Púllo head man has his residence here, besides the mʿallem.

We were to start in the afternoon; but my stupid Fezzáni servant, Mohammed ben Habíb, had almost killed himself with eating immoderately of ground-nuts, and was so seriously ill that I was reduced to the alternative either of leaving him behind or waiting for him. Choosing the latter, I made a day of feasting for the whole of my little company, the mʿallem sending me a goat for my people, a couple of fowls for myself, and corn for my horses; besides which, I was so fortunate as to buy a supply of rice. In consideration of his hospitable treatment, I sent the old mʿallem a bit of camphor and a parcel of cloves. Camphor is a most precious thing in these regions, and highly esteemed by the nobler classes, and I cannot too strongly recommend a traveller to provide himself with a supply of it. It is obvious that a small quantity, if well kept, will last him a long time. He may find an opportunity of laying a man of first-rate importance under lasting obligations by a present of a small piece of camphor.

Tuesday, June 17.—We at length set out to continue our journey. The morning was beautifully fresh and cool after the last night’s storm, the sky was clear, and the country open and pleasant. A fine grassy plain, with many patches of cultivated ground, extended on our right to the very foot of Mount Kónkel, which as I now saw is connected by a lower ridge with Mount Holma. We passed the ruins of the village Bíngel, the inhabitants of which had transferred their settlement nearer to the foot of the mountains. Then followed forest, interrupted now and then by cornfields. My friends, the young sons of Ardo Jídda, accompanied me for full two hours on horseback, when they bade me a friendly farewell, receiving each of them, to his great delight, a stone-set ring, which I begged them to present to their ladies as a memorial of the Christian traveller. I now learnt that the young men were already mixing a good deal in politics; the younger brother, who was much the handsomer, and seemed to be also the more intelligent of the two, had till recently administered the government of his blind father’s province, but had been deposed on account of his friendly disposition towards Wándalá, having married a princess of that country, and the management of affairs had been transferred to his elder brother.

Forest and cultivated ground alternately succeeded each other; a little after nine o’clock we passed on our left a small “rúmde,” or slave-village, with ground-nuts and holcus in the fields, and most luxuriant pasture all around. The country evidently sloped southwards, and at a little distance beyond the village I observed the first watercourse, running decidedly in that direction; on its banks the corn stood already four feet high. The country now became quite open to the east and south, and everything indicated that we were approaching the great artery of the country which I was so anxious to behold. In the distance to the west a range of low hills was still observable, but was gradually receding. About ten o’clock we passed the site of a straggling but deserted village, called Melágo, the inhabitants of which had likewise exchanged their dwelling-place in this low level country for a more healthy one at the foot of the mountains, where there is another village called Kófa, homonymous with that in the Marghí country; for this district belongs to the country of the Bátta, a numerous tribe nearly related, as I have stated above, to the Marghí. All the ruins of the dwellings in Melágo were of clay, and the rumbú or rumbúje—the stacks of corn—were of a peculiar description; fine cornfields spread around and between the huts.

Having rested about noon for a little more than two hours on a rather damp and gloomy spot near a dirty pond, we continued our march, the country now assuming a very pleasant park-like appearance, clothed in the most beautiful green, at times broken by cornfields, where the corn—Pennisetum or géro—stood already five feet high. We soon had to deliberate on the very important question which way to take, as the road divided into two branches, the northern or western one leading by way of Búmánda, while the southern or eastern one went by way of Sulléri. Most of my companions were for the former road, which they represented as much nearer, and as I afterwards saw, with the very best reason; but fortunately the more gastronomic part of the caravan, headed by Bíllama, who was rather fond of good living, rejected Búmánda, as being inhabited by poor inhospitable pagans, and decided for the promising large dishes of Mohammedan Sulléri. This turned out to be a most fortunate circumstance for me, although the expectations of my friends were most sadly disappointed. For if we had followed the route by Búmánda, we should have crossed the Bénuwé lower down, and I should not have seen the “Tépe,” that most interesting and important locality, where the Bénuwé is joined by the Fáro, and swelled to that majestic river which is at least equal in magnitude to the Kwára. Of this circumstance I was then not aware, else I should have decided from the beginning for the route by Sulléri. Unfortunately, owing to my very short stay in the country, I cannot say exactly where Búmánda lies; but I should suppose that it is situated about ten miles lower down, at a short distance from the river, like the place of the same name near Hamárruwa,[58] and I think it must lie opposite to Yóla, so that a person who crosses the river at that place goes over directly to the capital, without touching either at Ribáwo, or at any of the neighbouring places.

Having, therefore, chosen the eastern road, we soon reached the broad, but at present dry sandy channel of the Máyo Tíyel, which runs in a south-westerly direction to join the Bénuwé; water was to be found close underneath the surface of the sand, and several women heavily laden with sets of calabashes, and belonging to a troop of travellers encamped on the eastern border of the watercourse, were busy in scooping a supply of most excellent water from a shallow hollow or “kénkenu.” The banks of the river, or rather torrent, were lined with luxuriant trees, amongst which I observed the dorówa or meráya (Parkia) in considerable numbers.

Forest and cultivated ground now succeeded alternately, till we reached a beautiful little lake called “gére[59] Páriyá” by the Bátta, and “barre-n-dáke” by the Fúlbe, at present about fourteen hundred yards long, and surrounded by tall grass, everywhere impressed with tracks of the hippopotami or “ngábba,” which emerge during the night from their watery abode to indulge here quietly in a rich pasturage. This is the usual camping-ground of expeditions which come this way. A little beyond this lake a path branched off from our road to the right, leading to Ródi, a place of the Bátta, whose villages, according to Mohámmedu’s statement, are all fortified with stockades, and situated in strong positions naturally protected by rocky mounts and ridges.

There had been a storm in the afternoon at some distance; but when the sun was setting, and just as we began to wind along a narrow path through a thick forest, a black tempest gathered over our heads. At length we reached the fields of Sulléri, and, having stumbled along them in the deepest darkness, illumined only at intervals by flashes of lightning, we entered the place and pushed our way through the narrow streets, looking round in vain for Íbrahíma, who had gone on to procure quarters.

To our great disappointment we found the house of the governor shut up; and notwithstanding our constant firing and knocking at the door, nobody came to open it, while the heavy clouds began to discharge their watery load over our heads. At length, driven to despair, we turned round, and by force entered his son’s house, which was situated opposite to his own. Here I took possession of one side of the spacious, clean, and cool entrance-hall, which was separated from the thoroughfare by a little balustrade raised above the floor. Spreading my mat and carpet upon the pebbles with which, as is the general custom here, it was strewn, I indulged in comfort and repose after the fatiguing day’s march, while outside the tempest, and inside the landlord, were raging; the latter being extremely angry with Bíllama on account of our forced entry. Not the slightest sign of hospitality was shown to us; and instead of regaling themselves with the expected luxurious dishes of Sulléri, my companions had to go supperless to bed, while the poor horses remained without anything to eat, and were drenched with the rain.