[108]Leo Africanus, Descrizione dell’ Africa, i. c. 6: “E Air, diserto ancora esso, ma nomato dalla bontà dell’ aere.” This derivation of the name is manifestly apocryphal. Comp. l. vi. cc. 55. 56.

[109]Ebn Batúta’s Travels, ed. Lee, p. 45. Compare Journal Asiatique, 1843, p. 237.

[110]Leo, l. vi. c. 55. Ebn Batúta counts seventy days’ march from Tekádda to Tawát, or rather Búda. Now we shall see that Tekádda is situated three days south-west from Ágades, while, from what the traveller says about the place where the road to Egypt separated from that to Tawát, it is evident that he went by Asïu, or rather that the place just mentioned was identical with Asïu. Asïu, then, forty days from Tawát, was thirty days from Tekádda; Káher therefore, being distant eighteen days from Asïu, was twelve days from Tekádda, and was somewhere between the parallels of Selúfiet and Tintéllust, but rather, as we see from the sterile character of the country through which he travelled, and from the situation of Tekádda, in the more barren district to the west. About Tekádda I shall have to speak further on.

[111]The Tawárek, as well the Kél-owi as all the other tribes, constantly write ⵔⵢⴰ (Aïr); and the reason why the Arabs write اهير is simply to avoid the obscenity of أَيْرٌ (veretrum).

[112]Denham and Clapperton’s Travels, vol. ii. p. 162.

[113]I have spoken about the word “tin” before. I have strong reason for supposing that the original name of the place was Ansamán.

[114]Ebn Batúta, Journal Asiatique, 1843, série iv. vol. i. p. 188.; Cooley, Negroland, p. 17.

[115]It seems to be the title of his kingdom, so that we may translate it rather “the ruler of Kerker” or Gerger. See Cooley, p. 107., who first pointed out that Kerker was not a mere clerical error for Kaúkaú. But what this learned gentleman says at p. 109. is based upon wrong information, there being no such town as Birni-n-Gurgar in Háusa. The real name of the place is Góga. It is also impossible that the name Gérgeri can have anything to do with the pagan tribe Kerékeré.

[116]Ebn Batúta, p. 237.

[117]Leo, l. vi. c. 56.

[118]Ibid. i. c. 10., towards the end.

[119]Horneman’s Journal, 1802, p. 109. fl.

[120]That was also what Major Rennell concluded from the traveller’s expression when he says, p. 181., “From recent conquest it would seem,” &c. I think that the Kél-owí may have formerly borne another name, and received this name only from a place where they were settled. I would not refer to the Cillaba mentioned by Pliny, l. v. c. 5. The name Kél-owí is properly a plural form.

[121]Ábu ʿObeid Alla el Bekri el Kórtobi, Notices et Extraits, vol. xii. p. 644.

[122]With regard to Melle see what Leo says, l. i. c. 10. fin., “E quello (rè) che fù di Melli è dell’ origine del popolo di Zanaga.”

[123]Ebn Batúta, p. 234., ed. Lee. He says, “And the sister’s son always succeeds to property in preference to the son, a custom I witnessed nowhere else except among the infidel Hindoos of Malabar.” But the traveller forgot that he had soon to relate the same of the Gérgeri dynasty (see above, p. 338.); or rather the learned man who was ordered to publish his journal did not correct the expression, which, at the time when Ebn Batúta made his memorandum of his stay in Waláta, may have been quite true.

[124]This circumstance explains a curious fact in Mr. Koelle’s Polyglotta Africana, a work of the greatest merit, but in which, on account of the immense ground over which it extends, some errors must be expected. One of the most unfortunate examples in this respect are his specimens of a language called Kándín (xii. C.). Now the name Kándín is quite inadmissible in ethnography, being a name given to the Imóshagh or Tawárek only by the Kanúri people, to say nothing of the very odd geographical blunder involved in the expression “Absen, a town of Egades.” But the specimens of the language which Mr. Koelle gives under this head are a curious mixture of Targíye, Háusa, and even some Kanúri terms; and his informant, Abárshi (a very common name in Ásben), was most probably a slave by origin, at least not a free man, even before he was enslaved by the Kanúri. But these specimens are not uninteresting, giving a fair idea of the state of things in the country, although any respectable native would be ashamed to mix Háusa and Berber terms in this way; and moreover the latter as given here are mostly corrupted from the very beginning, for “one” is not díyen, but íyen, and the d is only added in composition, as meráw d’íyen, meráw d’esín—“eleven,” “twelve,” &c.

[125]Im, or em, in composition is almost identical with kél, meaning “the people of,” “the inhabitants of.”

[126]This name clearly shows that the final consonant of the name of the great town is not distinctly a ز (z), though the Arabs generally write it so. In fact, as I shall have to state further on, it was originally sh. From Ém-egédesen is formed Ém-egedesíye, “the language of the people of Ágades.”

[127]Mehárebi—محَاربي—though not to be found in our dictionaries, is a very common word with the Mohammedans all over Central Africa, and is regularly formed from “hareb,” حرب, quite in the same way as meháres, the common name given in Morocco to a guard or escort, from “hares.” The emír Hámedu of Hamd-Alláhi did me the honour to call me by this name, on account of the resistance I made to his attempt to seize me and my property during my stay in Timbúktu; and I do not doubt that the following passage in one of the angry and learned letters which he wrote to my protector the sheikh El Bakáy, will have some interest for such of my readers as understand Arabic:—

ولم نفطز بذلك محاربتك بل الذي حاربناه النصرانى الكافر الذي حارب الله ورسوله وهو حرب ورثناه من الاباء والاجداد ادى هلم جرا وحضنا عليه ربّنا ووعدنا فيه اجرا ودخرا

But his sacrilegious wishes were not fulfilled.

[128]It has been concluded (though erroneously, as the following will show) from the circumstance of the joint salt-caravan of the Itísan and Kél-gerés, in the letter of the sultan of Ágades, being called only after the former tribe, that these two tribes were identical. The Itísan, as “Benú Itísan,” are mentioned by Ebn Khaldún among the clans of the Sanhája, vol. i. p. 195., Arab. t.; vol. ii. p. 3., trad. par le baron de Slane.

[129]These, in the form of Ajdaranín, are mentioned by Bello, in his geographical introduction to his historical work (Clapperton’s Travels, Appendix II. p. 160.), among the first Berber tribes who came from Aújila and took Ahír (Aïr) from the Sudán inhabitants of Góber.

[130]This is the tribe of which Bello speaks (Clapperton’s Travels, ii. p. 160.) when he says “they appointed a person of the family of Ansatfen.” But his knowledge of the Tawárek was very insufficient; and the chapter to which that passage belongs is full of confusion.

[131]The tribe of the Tilkátine, appearing here among the clans of the Kél-gerés, is of the highest historical interest; for there can be no doubt of their being identical with the tribe of the Tel-káta mentioned by Ebn Khaldún (vol. i. p. 195. Arab. t., vol. ii. p. 3. trad. par le baron de Slane) as the most noble and predominant among all the sections of the Sanhája.

[132]The form of this name seems to indicate the sub-Libyan influence which this subdivision has undergone.

[133]The list of all the villages and towns of Aïr, given in the note at the end of the first volume of Mr. Richardson’s Journal, is in general, I think, exact; there are only two mistakes of importance—with regard to the population of Talázeghrín, and that of Áfasás (p. 341.), each of which places is stated to have 1000 male inhabitants, while the whole population scarcely reaches that number. On the other hand, the estimate of the population of Ágades at 2500 (p. 343.) is too low. Besides, some places are left out there, such as Iséllef, the residence of Dídi’s wife, and some others. I have to regret the loss of a paper which I sent home from Aïr, where a topographical arrangement of the villages had been attempted.

[134]In the account of the expedition of the Bórnu king Edrís Alawóma, of which I shall have to speak in the second volume, no mention is made of this salt-trade of the Tébu; but from this silence no conclusion can be drawn as to the non-existence of the salt-trade at that time. On the contrary, we may conclude from the interesting account of Edrísi (transl. Jaubert, vol. i. p. 117. f.) who certainly means to speak of the salt-trade of the Tébu country, although he uses the term “alum,” that this article formed a very important staple in remote times.


CHAP. XV.

RESIDENCE IN TINTÉLLUST.

We saw the old chief on the day following our arrival. He received us in a straightforward and kindly manner, observing very simply that even if, as Christians, we had come to his country stained with guilt, the many dangers and difficulties we had gone through would have sufficed to wash us clean, and that we had nothing now to fear but the climate and the thieves. The presents which were spread out before him he received graciously, but without saying a single word. Of hospitality he showed no sign. All this was characteristic.

We soon received further explanations. Some days afterwards he sent us the simple and unmistakable message, that if we wished to proceed to Sudán at our own risk, we might go in company with the caravan, and he would place no obstacle in our way; but if we wanted him to go with us and to protect us, we ought to pay him a considerable sum. In stating these plain terms, he made use of a very expressive simile, saying that as the leffa (or snake) killed everything that she touched, so his word, when it had once escaped his lips, had terminated the matter in question—there was nothing more to be said. I do not think this such an instance of shameful extortion as Mr. Richardson represents it, considering how much we gave to others who did nothing for their pay, and how much trouble we caused Ánnur. On the contrary, having observed Ánnur’s dealings to the very last, and having arrived under his protection safely at Kátsena, I must pronounce him a straightforward and trustworthy man, who stated his terms plainly and dryly, but stuck to them with scrupulosity; and as he did not treat us, neither did he ask anything[135] from us, nor allow his people to do so. I shall never forgive him for his niggardliness in not offering me so much as a drink of fura or ghussub-water when I visited him, in the heat of the day, on his little estate near Tasáwa; but I cannot withhold from him my esteem both as a great politician in his curious little empire, and as a man remarkable for singleness of word and purpose.

Having come into the country as hated intruders pursued by all classes of people, we could not expect to be received by him otherwise than coldly; but his manner changed entirely when I was about to set out for Ágades, in order to obtain the goodwill of the sultan of the country. He came to our encampment to see me off, and from that day forth did not omit to visit us every day, and to maintain the most familiar intercourse with us. So it was with all the people; and I formed so many friendships with them, that the turbulent Mohammed, Ánnur’s cousin, used often to point to them as a proof how impossible it was that he could have been the instigator of the misdeeds perpetrated on the night preceding our arrival in Tintéllust, when we were treated with violence, and our luggage was rifled. Still we had, of course, many disagreeable experiences to make before we became naturalized in this new country.

It was the rainy season; and the rain setting in almost daily, caused us as much interest and delight (being a certain proof that we had reached the new regions after which we had so long been hankering) as served to counterbalance the trouble which it occasioned. Sometimes it fell very heavily, and, coming on always with a dreadful storm, was very difficult to be kept out from the tent, so that our things often got wet. The heaviest rain we had was on the 9th of September, when an immense torrent was formed, not only in the chief valley, but even in the small ravine behind our encampment. Yet we liked the rain much better than the sand-storm. In a few days nature all around assumed so fresh and luxuriant a character, that so long as we were left in repose, we felt cheered to the utmost, and enjoyed our pleasant encampment, which was surrounded by masses of granite blocks, wide-spreading bushes of the abísga, and large luxuriant talha-trees, in wild and most picturesque confusion. It was very pleasant and interesting to observe, every day, the rapid growth of the little fresh leaves and young offshoots, and the spreading of the shady foliage.

Monkeys now and then descended into the little hollow beyond our tents to obtain a draught of water; and numbers of jackals were heard every night roving about us, while the trees swarmed with beautiful ring-doves and hoopoes and other smaller birds. The climate of Aïr has been celebrated from the time of Leo, on account “della bontà e temperanza dell’ aere.” But unfortunately our little English suburb proved too distant from the protecting arm of the old chief; and after the unfortunate attack in the night of the 17th of September, which if made with vigour would inevitably have ended in our destruction, we were obliged to remove our encampment, and, crossing the broad valley, pitch it in the plain near the village.

But the circumstances connected with this attack were so curious that I must relate them, in a few words. The rain, which had wetted all our things, and made us anxious about our instruments and arms, seemed to abate; and Overweg and I decided the very day preceding the attack in question, on cleaning our guns and pistols, which had been loaded for some time; and having cleaned them, and wishing to dry them well, we did not load them again immediately. In the afternoon we had a visit from two well-dressed men mounted on mehára; they did not beg for anything, but inspected the tents very attentively, making the remark that our tent was as strong as a house, while Mr. Richardson’s was light and open at the bottom.

The moon shed a splendid light over the interesting wilderness; and our black servants being uncommonly cheerful and gay that night, music and dancing was going on in the village, and they continued playing till a very late hour, when they fell asleep. Going the round of our encampment before I went to lie down, I observed at a little distance a strange camel, or rather méheri, kneeling quietly down with its head towards our tents. I called my colleagues, and expressed my suspicion that all was not right; but our light-hearted and frivolous servant Mohammed calmed my uneasiness by pretending that he had seen the camel there before, though that was not true. Still I had some sad foreboding, and, directing my attention unluckily to the wrong point, caused our sheep to be tied close to our tent.

Being uneasy, I did not sleep soundly; and a little after two o’clock I thought I heard a very strange noise, just as if a troop of people were marching with a steady step round our tents, and muttering in a jarring voice. Listening anxiously for a moment, I felt sure that there were people near the tent, and was about to rush out; but again, on hearing the sound of music proceeding from the village, I persuaded myself that the noise came from thence, and lay down to slumber, when suddenly I heard a louder noise, as if several men were rushing up the hill, and, grasping a sword and calling aloud for our people, I jumped out of the tent; but there was nobody to be seen. Going then round the hill to Mr. Richardson’s tent, I met him coming out half-dressed, and begging me to pursue the robbers, who had carried away some of his things. Some of his boxes were dragged out of the tent, but not emptied: none of his servants were to be seen except Sʿaid, all the rest having run away without even giving an alarm; so that all of us might have been murdered.

But immediately after this accident we received the distinct assurance of protection both from the sultan of Ágades and from the great mʿallem Azóri; and I began to plan my excursion to Ágades more definitely, and entered into communication with the chief on this point. Meanwhile I collected a great deal of information[136] about the country, partly from a Tawáti of the name of ʿAbd el Káder (not the same who accompanied us on the road from Ghát), and partly from some of the Tinýlkum, who, having left us the day after our arrival in Tin-téllust, had dispersed all over the country, some pasturing their camels in the most favoured localities, others engaged in little trading speculations, and paying us a visit every now and then. Small caravans came and went, and among them one from Sudán, with its goods laden almost entirely on pack-oxen,—a most cheerful sight, filling our hearts with the utmost delight, as we were sure that we had now passed those dreary deserts where nothing but the persevering and abstemious camel can enable man to maintain communications.

At length, then, we were enabled to write to Government, and to our friends in Europe, assuring them that we had now overcome, apparently, most of the difficulties which appeared likely to oppose our progress, and that we felt justified in believing that we had now fairly entered upon the road which would lead directly to the attainment of the objects of the expedition.

With regard to our provisions, Overweg and I were at first rather ill off, while Mr. Richardson, although he had been obliged to supply food on the road to troops both of friends and foes, had still a small remnant of the considerable stores which he had laid in at Múrzuk. We had been led to expect that we should find no difficulty in procuring all necessaries, and even a few luxuries, in Ásben (and carriage was so dear that we were obliged to rely upon these promises); but we were now sadly disappointed. After a few days, however, the inhabitants being informed that we were in want of provisions, and were ready to buy, brought us small quantities of Guinea corn, butter—the botta (or box made of rough hide, in the way common over almost the whole of Central Africa) for two or two and a half mithkáls,—and even a little fresh cheese; we were also able to buy two or three goats, and by sending Ibrahím, who had now recovered from his guineaworm, to Ásodi, where provisions are always stored up in small quantities, we obtained a tolerable camel-load of durra or sorghum.

But I could not relish this grain at all, and as I was not able to introduce any variety into my diet, I suffered much; hence it was fortunate for me that I went to Ágades, where my food was more varied, and my health consequently improved. I afterwards became accustomed to the various preparations of sorghum and Pennisetum, particularly the asída or túvo, and found that no other food is so well adapted for a hot climate; but it requires a great deal of labour to prepare it well, and this of course is a difficult matter for a European traveller, who has no female slave or partner to look after his meals. Our food during our stay in Ásben was so ill-prepared (being generally quite bitter, owing to the husk not being perfectly separated from the grain) that no native of the country would taste it.

Meanwhile my negotiation with the chief, with regard to my going to Ágades, which I managed as silently and secretly as possible, went on prosperously; and on the 30th of September I took my leave of him, having with me on the occasion a present for himself, worth about eighty riyáls, or eleven pounds sterling, and the presents intended for the sultan of Ágades, in order that he might see what they were and express his opinion upon them; and I was greatly pleased to find that he was satisfied with both. He promised me perfect safety, although the undertaking looked a little dangerous, and had a letter written to ʿAbd el Káder (or, in the popular form, Kádiri—this was the name of the new sultan), wherein he recommended me to him in the strongest terms, and enumerated the presents I meant to offer to him.

But as soon as my intention transpired, all the people, uninvited as well as invited, hastened to give me their best advice, and to dissuade me from embarking in an undertaking which would certainly be my ruin. Conspicuous among these motley counsellors was a son of Háj ʿAbdúwa, the presumptive heir of Ánnur, who conjured me to abandon my design. These people, indeed, succeeded in frightening Yusuf Mákni, Mr. Richardson’s interpreter, whom the latter wished to send with me; but as for myself, I knew what I was about, and had full confidence in the old chief’s promise, and was rather glad to get rid of Mákni, whom I well knew to be a clever, but no less malicious and intriguing person. With difficulty I persuaded Mohammed, our Tunisian shushán, to accompany me; and I also succeeded in hiring Amánkay, Mr. Richardson’s active black Búzu servant, who, however, on this trip proved utterly useless, as we had no sooner set out than he began to suffer from his old complaint of guineaworm, and was the whole time too lame for service.

I then arranged with Hámma, Ánnur’s son-in-law, under whose especial protection I was to undertake my journey, but whom I had to pay separately. I gave him the value of eleven mithkals, or about one pound sterling, for himself, and hired from him two camels, each for six mithkáls. After various delays, which, however, enabled me to send off two more of my journals, together with letters, to Múrzuk, by the hand of a half-caste Kél-owí of the name of Báwa Amákita, our departure was definitively fixed for the 4th of October.

[135]The little trifles which we gave him occasionally are scarcely worth mentioning.

[136]That part of my information which regarded the topography of the country, and which I forwarded during our stay there, has unfortunately been lost.


CHAP. XVI.

JOURNEY TO ÁGADES.

Friday, October 4th.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 Tigger-éresa 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 Tintéllust, 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 Tawárek 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 works.

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 5th.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[137], 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 inclosed 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-loafs 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 6th.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 water-courses, which all ran from E. to W.S.W. 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 Aïr, 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.[138]

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[139], 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[140] 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 7th.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 “érazar-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.[141]

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 2500 feet, having the broad cone of the Dógem on our left, which I then thought to be the most elevated point in Aïr, 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 Erárar-n-Déndemu, thickly overgrown with small talha-trees, and showing along the path numerous foot-prints of the lion, which is 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[142], 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[143], and a contemporary and intimate friend of the Sheikh e’ Soyúti[144], that living encyclopædia and keystone, 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 inclosing 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 e’ 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 8th.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.