It was with very satisfactory feelings, although mingled with some degree of uneasiness, that I found myself floating on this noble river, which was here certainly not less than 600 yards across. The sandbank is a little nearer to the eastern shore, and the whole current (“ngáda” in Kanúri, “ámma-wá” in Lógone) keeps along that side, while on the western shore the river sweeps slowly along, and in general appears not to be very deep. In the channel, the poles of the ferrymen indicated a depth of fifteen feet. Our camel, horses, and bullock had to cross the river by swimming alongside the boat, till we reached the northern end of the sandbank, when they walked along the sandy beach; the sandbank being at present about 250 yards in length. The current between the sandbank and the eastern shore was very strong, and the water deep, though fortunately the distance was only about 200 yards.

Having crossed this imposing stream, we entered the small harbour of Mélé, and as soon as we reached the shore were saluted by a “chiróma,” or squirrel, which, running about freely, and wagging its tail, seemed to offer a good omen for a happy arrival in this country. The inhabitants also, who were employed in various ways at a small wharf used for building the common craft of the river, received us in a friendly way, more especially as I made a small present to a sort of official personage who has the title of “Kashélla,” and added a few needles in addition to the fare paid to the boatmen. I was agreeably struck by the fine figures of the females, their comely appearance and very becoming head-dress distinguishing them most advantageously, not only from the Kanúri, but even from the people of Logón.

Having here spent a few minutes re-loading our camel and exchanging compliments, we hastened on, ascending the higher bank, which here rises to about twenty-five feet, and leaving the village to the left, close to the steep slope overhanging the river. But we had only proceeded about a mile, delighted at the idea that, notwithstanding the obstacles thrown in our way, we had succeeded in entering this country, when we saw a person advancing towards us, whom my horseman recognized as a servant of the chief of Ásu. This incident could not but fail to lessen our hopes of success considerably. Had the chief of Ásu been more careful in discharging his duty, and sent a messenger the evening before, or early the same morning, I should never have entered Bagírmi.

As it was, having allowed the man to proceed on his mischievous errand, we consulted together a moment, and thought it best to leave the path, and strike across into the stubble-fields; for there is much cultivated ground belonging to Mélé, which, although lying close to the river, is more of a farming than a fishing village. New ground was being cleared. Trees were being cut down, nothing but the trunks being left, in order to protect the dresses of the labourers from the ants. The whole country was well cultivated, and, being shaded by numerous trees, presented a very interesting appearance. After about half an hour’s march across the stubble-fields, without any direct track, we reached a well-trodden path coming from Klésem, a considerable village lying lower down the river, and still belonging to Kótokó, with a peculiar idiom of its own. Following then this track, we reached a shallow watercourse of the same nature as those mentioned on former occasions. The Bagírmi people call them “kámané” or “gúgulí.” It was enlivened by a settlement of Shúwa cattle-breeders of the tribe of the ʿAgaífe, and stretched out in great length from S.S.W. to N.N.E., forming a very peculiar feature in this part of the country; it is called “Ambusáda” or Mbusáda. Where we crossed it the water was only a foot deep, the whole of the bottom of the shallow bed being covered with the richest verdure.

We then kept close along its eastern side, having a rising ground on our left, with a most splendid border of beautiful trees, chiefly of the fig kind. It was a scenery which reminded me of the Músgu country, with this exception, that the watercourse was not so broad, and the rich foliage of the trees was not occasionally broken and diversified by the deléb-palm. An almost uninterrupted line of hamlets skirted this narrow strip of verdant fertility, and now and then groups of people were seen issuing from the thick foliage, while numerous herds of cattle were spread over the green swampy meadow-lands, some half-immersed in the water, and nipping off the fresh shoots of the young grass, while others were roaming about on the dry herbage near the border. Amongst the cattle, birds of the most beautiful plumage, and of every description and size, were sporting and playing about: there was the gigantic pelican dashing down occasionally from some neighbouring tree; the maraboo (Ciconia M.), standing like an old man, its head between its shoulders; the large-sized azure-feathered “dédegamí,” strutting proudly along after its prey, the plotus, with its long snake-like neck; the white ibis, eagerly searching for its food, with various species of ducks (geddégabú, or “dabá”), and numerous other lesser birds in larger or smaller flights. Now and then a wild hog suddenly started forth from the covert of the forest, accompanied by a litter of young ones, and plunged eagerly into the water. There was here a rich and inexhaustible field for the sportsman; but I could not think of sport, for I was conscious that something was going on to stop my progress.

Perhaps it would have been more prudent to have gone on without stopping; but I felt the heat of the sun very much, and, seeing that I could not traverse the country by force, preferred resting during the heat of the day under the shade of a fine wide-spreading ngábbore or ngáto (fig-tree) at the side of a Shúwa village. I here endeavoured in vain to barter a few things with the inhabitants; but, to my great astonishment, neither milk nor anything else was to be had, though cattle were seen grazing in every direction. But the people told me that the great number of cattle collected together on so narrow a slip of pasture-ground was the very reason they had so little milk. These Shúwa people, who belong to the tribe of the Welád ʿAlí, call this shallow water Msél el Háj ʿAlí, after the name of their principal chief.

I was quietly reclining in the cool shade, although not without some sad forebodings, when the head man of Mélé, accompanied by seven or eight armed Shúwa, was seen approaching. They first addressed themselves to my horseman Gréma, who had made himself comfortable in the shade of another tree a short distance off. Having finished their business with him, they came to me, protesting that they could not allow me to continue my journey, as they were compelled to wait for an order from the capital, when I did not hesitate to declare on my part that I was willing to wait any reasonable time, on condition of their assigning me a residence, and the means of supplying my wants. They expressed their satisfaction at my compliance, telling me that in case of my refusal they would have sent all the Shúwa in the neighbourhood to harass me on the road. The head man of Mélé then promised me that, if I would return to his village, he would take care that I should be supplied with everything I wanted, particularly fowls and milk.

I therefore allowed Gréma to proceed alone, in order to take my letters to the capital, while I slowly retraced my steps. An hour and a half’s march along a more direct path brought me back to the village where I had first entered this country.

The position of Mélé is not without interest, situated as it is upon a steep bank overhanging a large and beautiful navigable river, which here changes its course from a west-easterly to a south-northerly direction; and here I might have indulged a few days in contemplating the interesting scenery, if my future progress had allowed me more tranquillity. As it was, the six or seven days I passed here were spent in rather a dull manner; for the inhabitants became very suspicious when they observed that my favourite place was the shade of a fine tree at the very brink of the shore, from whence I had a view over the river to a great extent north and west. Of course there was but little communication; and very rarely a boat was seen proceeding in either direction. Now and then the sand-bank became enlivened by a crocodile coming out of the water to bask in the sun, or by the frolics of the boys of the village, who occasionally crossed over to look after their fishing-tackle, or dry their nets. Both fish as well as crocodiles are extremely plentiful in the river; and the meat of the latter forms a great delicacy to the natives. But there is also in this river a very large animal, which, I think, must be identical with the ayú of the Bénuwé and Niger—the Manatus Vogelii.[38]

To the north-east the village was bordered by thick forest, which at a little distance was traversed by the lower course of the Ambusáda, which was here extremely rich in verdure, and full of the favourite haunts of the hog. I here, also, observed a considerable number of monkeys. It was during my residence in this place, likewise, that I first obtained a clear knowledge of the nature of the Shárí, and its relation with that of Logón, the point of junction of the two rivers being a little below Kúsuri, at a place called Síña Fácha, while I obtained a great deal of information—certainly not quite clear and distinct—of the towns and principalities on the upper courses of these rivers. I also learned that last year the river had overflowed its banks, and entered the very huts of the natives. Nevertheless, at this spot the banks were at present more than forty feet high.

As for the name of the river, the name which is generally given to it, viz. Sháry or Shárí, belongs, as I have mentioned on a former occasion, to the language of the Kótokó. The Bagírmi people call it only Bá, distinguishing it in the various parts of its course by the names of the different villages which are situated on its banks, as Bá-Mélé, Bá-Busó, Bá-Gún, while the Arabs call it at this place Bahr-Mélé, and a little higher up from the other village, Bahr-Ásu. When the whole river, therefore, is sometimes called Ásu, the relation is quite the same as the komádugu Wáúbe being called Yeou or Yó.

But while I was thus able to employ my time not quite unprofitably, my comforts were not quite so good as I had been led to expect, neither fowl nor milk being procurable, and the fresh fish of the river, which I was occasionally able to procure for a handsome present, not agreeing with the weak state of my stomach; although it was excellent and very palatable. There is a small market held at a village about five miles distant, of the name of Édiye, and every Wednesday another market, a little more important, near a village of the name of Chínge.

My impatience was augmented by the unmistakable signs of the approach of the rainy season, while the numbers of mosquitoes allowed me but little rest during the night. The sky was usually overcast, and occasionally early in the morning the whole country was enveloped in a dense fog. Though rather cool in the morning, the weather became sultry towards the middle of the day, and heavy squalls of wind sometimes set in in the afternoon. I would willingly have shared the company of the sultan in the expedition, although the news which arrived from the camp was not altogether of a satisfactory character. The pagan inhabitants of Gógomí, against whom he was waging war, were reported to have descended from their mountain strongholds, and to have slain a considerable number of his people, and amongst them a well-known Arab from Morocco, who accompanied him on this expedition.

Thursday, March 25th.It was about noon, when to my great delight my trooper Gréma ʿAbdú returned from his errand. He was accompanied by two attendants of the Zérma, or rather Kadamánge, the lieutenant-governor whom the sultan had left during his absence in command of the capital. I was disappointed, however, in my expectation that I should now be allowed, without further delay, to reach the capital myself, for the messengers produced a document provided with a large black seal, to the effect that I was to await the answer of the sultan in Búgomán, a place higher up the river, the inhabitants of which, together with those of a neighbouring town, called Mískin, were to provide me with fresh fish and milk during my stay there. Although anxious to join the sultan himself, I had nothing to object to such an arrangement, and was glad to move on, if it were only a little. Our path on leaving the village kept along the steep north-easterly bank of the river, which here separates into two branches, of which the eastern one has more the nature of a creek. The island thus formed was thickly wooded, and with the exception of a small hamlet of fishermen, seemed to be left entirely to the possession of wild animals; for while we clearly distinguished a flock of about a dozen large antelopes of the species called “mohor,” or “hímraye” (Antilope Soemmeringii), we were not a little surprised at seeing a string of not less than twenty-two crocodiles all lying quietly on their backs on the sandy beach, and basking in the sun. None of them, however, were remarkable for their size, the largest measuring apparently from twelve to fifteen feet.

Our march was rather short, my companions taking up quarters for us in the small village called Límshi, situated two miles and a half higher up the river, or rather creek.

Here there was a tolerable degree of activity, and several boats were lying near the banks. Having just before observed such numbers of crocodiles, I was not a little astonished at seeing the women, who were fetching water, bathing without apprehension in the river. The island opposite, at this spot also, was densely covered with wood, but a little higher up there is a village of the name of Ódiyó. Our reception in the village was very inhospitable, and gave me a bad idea of the authority of the lieutenant-governor, under whose protection I was travelling.

Friday, March 26th.Our march for the first mile and a half led through stubble fields, after which we entered a dense forest filled with numerous creeping plants, but otherwise of a rather uniform character; awaiting the reviving power of the rainy season. The shallow watercourse Mbusáda, or Msél el Háj ʿAlí, was all the time close on our left, till we crossed it, at a distance of about five miles. We then pursued our march through cultivated grounds, where, besides millet, a little cotton also was raised, at other times proceeding through clearer forest, and soon reached the village Mustafají, which was the native place of the wife of my escort Gréma ʿAbdú.

Here we were quartered without delay; but the huts were not remarkable either for their size or architecture, consisting entirely of thatch and reed, the lower part being only slightly touched with clay, and during the hot hours of the day the heat of them was really suffocating. The inhabitants are all Kanúri, who, having emigrated from Bórnu during the time of the decay of that empire, have settled here as well as in other parts of Bagírmi, where they have introduced the little civilization which at present is seen, especially weaving and dyeing, which is here carried on to a considerable extent. The Shárí or Bá, in a direct line, is only about seven miles distant towards the west, and the inundation even approaches the very village by means of the shallow depressions and watercourses which intersect the country. A great extent of ground was under cultivation.

The inhabitants of the village behaved very hospitably, and my horseman’s father-in-law, a very jovial and decent looking man, made me a present of a fat sheep. The only difficulty was the water, the well, notwithstanding its depth of fifteen fathoms, containing only a very small supply. Scarcity of water seems, indeed, to be one of the great disadvantages of Bagírmi.

We remained here the whole of the forenoon of the following day, and did not start until half-past two in the afternoon. The country which we traversed was well inhabited, and a good deal of cotton was to be seen; and it was here that I first beheld it cultivated in ridges and furrows, a manner of culture which, I think, is constantly adhered to in America as well as in India, but in Negroland very rarely; the cotton plants growing on the ridges, but being at present quite bare of leaves. All the cotton plantations which I had seen previously in Negroland were left to themselves, and were rather in a wild state; but here they seemed to be well kept and taken care of. At a village called Mútkomí my attention was drawn to the great numbers of asses; here the ground was full of the holes of the fének or Megalotis, called by the native Shúwa population “bú hassén.”

Further on, a firm and dry clay soil succeeded. Having then passed a large village of the name of Búgarí, we took up our quarters a little before sunset in a village called Matuwárí, which belongs to a wealthy and learned man called Legári Bú-Músa, and were very hospitably received. These people were also Kanúri, and I was delighted to observe some signs of industry in the shape of a small dyeing place, which contained two pits.

March 28th.At an early hour we pursued our march, approaching the town of Búgomán, where I was to await further orders from the sultan. The country exhibited signs of considerable cultivation, and numerous farming hamlets, called “yówëó” by the Bagírmi people, were spread about; at present, however, they were tenantless, being only inhabited during the rainy season by the “field hands,” as an American would say.

After a march of about four miles, and having passed a swampy meadow ground with numerous traces of the rhinoceros, we again stood on the banks of the great river of Bagírmi, the Shárí or Bá, which here, where at present it formed a wide flat sandy beach[39], at first sight seemed very inconsiderable, compared with that noble character which it had exhibited lower down, so that I almost supposed it to be nothing but a branch of the principal river, although my people repeatedly assured me this was not the case; that small branch which higher up, a little above the town of Míltu, separates from it, passing by Busó and Báchikám, a few miles to the south of Máseñá, having just rejoined it near the town of Mískin, of which the taller trees, if not the houses, were visible from hence. The river here forms a long reach from south to north, but higher up, beyond Mískin, comes from S.S.E. The bank on this side was very low, which is the reason that the river during the inundation spreads over a greater extent of country. The ground shelves very gradually, and the river seemed shallow at a considerable distance from the beach, but its depth on the other side may be the more considerable, the opposite bank on which the town of Búgomán stands being rather steep.

The town, seen from this distance, seemed to be rather in a state of decay,—at least as regarded the wall; but it was pleasantly adorned with a variety of trees, among which deléb- and dúm-palms were the most conspicuous. It was market-day, and in the cool of the morning numbers of people were collected on the south-eastern beach, where we had arrived, awaiting the return of the ferry-boats: so that altogether it exhibited quite an interesting scene. But gradually the bustle subsided, and the heat of the sun on the sandy beach became almost insupportable; for, notwithstanding my warning, we had left the green border of trees and herbage far behind us, and had advanced along the broad sandy beach, which at present was dry, to the very edge of the water. My escort, together with the two servants of Zérma, had gone into the town to announce my arrival, and to inform the head man of the order of the lieutenant-governor, that I was to await here the commands of the sultan: but no answer came. In vain did I endeavour to protect myself from the burning rays of the sun by forming a temporary shelter of my carpet; for the sun in these climes is never more severe than just before the setting-in of the rainy season, and we had generally at two o’clock between 106° and 110°. As noon passed by, I grew impatient, especially as I had nothing to eat, there being no firewood, even for cooking a very simple dinner.

At length, a little before three o’clock, my messengers returned, and their countenances indicated that they were not the bearers of satisfactory news. The governor of Búgomán refused obedience to the direct order of his lord the sultan of Bagírmi, and declined receiving me into the town. Nothing was left but to retrace our steps to the village Matuwárí, where we had been so hospitably entertained. Dragging therefore behind us the sheep which we had not yet been able to slaughter, we returned by the same road we had come.

Here we remained the following morning, and I had sufficient time to reflect on my condition in this country. There could not be the least doubt that the greater part of the inhabitants were unfavourably inclined towards the stranger; and I was persuaded that the best course for me to pursue would be to return to Logón, and there quietly await the answer of the sultan; but my companions were not of my opinion, and assured me I was not at liberty to leave the country after I had once entered it. It was therefore decided that we should proceed in the direction of the capital, and make our further proceedings dependent upon circumstances. The reason we did not start at once was because my companions wanted to pass the extensive forest which lay before us in the night-time, as there was no water for a whole day’s march, and our people were unprovided with water-skins.

In order to employ my leisure time, I took a walk to Búgarí, the village above mentioned, it being market-day; and I was glad, considering the little civilization which is to be met with in these regions, to find a good deal of traffic going on in the market. There were about twenty head of cattle, between sixty and eighty sheep, and about a dozen asses to be sold; there were, moreover, a good assortment of black and white tobes, a tolerable supply of butter and honey, besides millet, beans, and ground-nuts; the latter, especially, were very plentiful, and bore ample testimony to the fact, that in these regions, also, this valuable article of commerce grows in great quantities, and forms a considerable portion of the diet of the natives; but as for cotton, the supply was rather limited.

The staple commodity of the market were tobes, half-tobes, and single strips of cotton, or fárda, about three inches wide, and from three to four drʿa in length. Unfortunately, I was destitute of this kind of money, the people rejecting with contempt those miserable little shirts, or dóra, which I had brought with me from Bórnu; so that, notwithstanding the good supply of the market, I might have remained unprovided. I however succeeded in buying a few fárda for some needles, paying four needles for each fárda. I bought also a little butter for some beads.

The whole of this district is very scantily supplied with water; and the well in Matuwárí, which is only two fathoms and a half deep, contained very little. The wells in Búgarí were three fathoms deep, but were no better supplied. Of course, by digging to a greater depth, and constructing the wells in a proper way, the people might secure a sufficient supply; but they prefer walking every day to a far distant village for a little water rather than employ a few weeks industriously in making a durable well.

After a cordial parting from the male and female inhabitants of the village, we started about three o’clock in the afternoon; and with the exception of a short halt, about sunset, in a small hamlet called “Búru-nyígo,” or “hyænas’ den,” we continued our march without interruption till past eleven o’clock at night. The village just mentioned lies at the border of the wilderness; and here we had not only to water our horses and to lay in a supply of water for ourselves, but I had also to give medicine to some people who had followed me all the way from Búgarí.

Having rested for a little more than five hours in the midst of a forest, without being molested by man or beast, we continued our march through the dense jungle full of trees and thick underwood, while larger trees became more and more scanty. Gradually the forest became clearer, and flocks of turtle-doves seemed to indicate that there was water in the neighbourhood, although such a conclusion drawn from the presence of this bird is sometimes liable to error.

After the rainy season the character presented by this forest must be very different, and a little further on, evident signs of former cultivation began to be visible, even of sesamum (“márrashi,” as the Kanúri, “kárru,” as the Bagírmi people call it), as was evident from the deep furrows which intersected the ground. The inhabitants of two or three small hamlets dragged on a miserable existence even during the drought which at present prevailed; and we met a large body of women and children, who preferred fetching every night and morning their supply of this most essential element from a distance of several miles rather than desert their native village.

Having passed another hamlet, likewise destitute of water, and left several villages at a greater distance surrounded by a tract of cultivated ground, we at length reached the longed-for El Dorado where water was to be found; and, as may be presumed, there was a great bustle round the well, which had to supply the whole thirsty neighbourhood. Numbers of people, camels, and asses were thronging around, longing for the moment when they might come in for their share; and as the well was ten fathoms deep, a considerable time would necessarily elapse before they were all supplied. Being saluted in a friendly way by the people, I pitched my tent in the shade of a large chédia or caoutchouc-tree, which, however, was very scanty, as the young leaves had not come out, and afforded very little relief from the heat of the sun.

Here it was for the first time that I tasted a dish of sesamum, which was prepared in the same manner as millet, in the form of a large hasty pudding, but, being insufficiently seasoned by the common African sauce of the leaves of the kúka or monkey-bread tree, did not appear to me to be a very dainty dish. The village, the name of which is Mókorí, had a comfortable appearance; and the pounding of indigo in the dyeing-pits went on without interruption, even during the heat of the day. Some Fúlbe or Felláta shepherds live in the neighbourhood; and I was fortunate enough to barter a little butter for glass beads, as well as a small supply of rice—that is to say, wild rice, for rice is not cultivated here, but only gathered in the jungles from what the elephant and rhinoceros have left. Altogether I might have been very comfortable, if my uncertain situation in the country had not caused me some anxiety.

When we pursued our march in the afternoon, our road lay through a fertile country, where the cultivation was divided between millet and sesamum, till we reached the first group of the village of Bákadá, which consists of four distinct hamlets. Here my companions wanted to procure quarters for me; but fortunately the head man of the village refused them admittance, so that they were obliged to seek for hospitality in another hamlet, and it was my good luck to obtain quarters in the house of a man who forms one of the most pleasing recollections of my journey. This was Háj Bú-Bakr Sadík, a spare old man, of very amiable temperament, to whom I became indebted for a great deal of kindness and valuable information.

While I pitched my tent in his small courtyard, he was sitting close by, and was informing me in very good Arabic, that he had thrice made the pilgrimage to Mekka, and seen the great ships of the Christians on the Sea of Jedda. He remembered minutely all the different localities which he had visited in the course of his long wanderings.

Delighted that by chance I had fallen in with such a man, I sent away the next morning my horseman Gréma ʿAbdú, and the two messengers, to the capital, in order to inform the lieutenant-governor that the chief of Búgomán had refused obedience to his direct order and denied me admittance into the town, and to ask him what was to become of me now. Sending him at the same time a present, I begged him urgently to allow me either to enter the capital or to retrace my steps to Bórnu. Gréma promised me that he would return the next morning with a decisive answer. However, he did not keep his promise, but remained absent full seven days, although the distance from the capital was only about ten miles. It was therefore very fortunate that I had the company of Bú-Bakr Sadík, for no other person would have been able to give me such an insight into the character and the history of these regions as this man.

He drew a spirited picture of the great national struggle which his countrymen had been carrying on against Bórnu, he himself having taken part in several battles. He boasted, and with reason, that slaves of his master had twice beaten the sheikh Mohammed el Kánemí, and that the sheikh had only gained the victory by calling to his assistance Mústapha el Áhmar and Mukní, the two succeeding sultans of Fezzán, when, by destroying the towns of Babáliyá and Gáwi, and by taking possession of the capital, he made himself temporary master of the country. He described to me with delight how his countrymen had driven back the Felláta who were endeavouring to establish the Jemmára in their country, and that they had undertaken afterwards a successful expedition against Bógo, one of the settlements of that nation.

Bú-Bakr indeed might have been called a patriot in every sense of the word. Although a loyal subject, and humbly devoted to his sultan, nevertheless he beheld with the deepest mortification the decline of his native country from the former wealth and importance it had enjoyed previous to the time when ʿAbd el Kerím Sabún, the sultan of Wádáy, conquered it, plundered its treasures, made the king tributary, and led numbers of the inhabitants into slavery. Thus the whole well-being of the country had been annihilated, and not only their wealth in silver and cattle had disappeared, but the ruin and decay extended even, as he considered, in his melancholy frame of mind, to nature,—whole districts which had been formerly under cultivation and covered with villages being now changed to a wilderness, and regions which had formerly been well supplied with water suffering now the extreme of drought. Worms, he told me, were devouring their crops and vegetables, dooming them to starvation.

All this was true as far as regarded the present state of the country; for though I cannot say whether its physical condition was ever much more favourable, still as to its government and political importance there certainly was a time when Bagírmi enjoyed greater prosperity. It might seem indeed as if the country was visited by Divine chastisement, as a punishment for the offences of their ancestors and the ungodly life of their former ruler. In no country in the whole extent of Negroland which I have travelled over have I seen such vast numbers of destructive worms, and such a predominance of ants, as in Bagírmi. There is especially a large black worm called “hallu-wéndi,” as long as the largest grub, but much bigger, which, swarming in millions, consumes an immense proportion of the produce of the natives. Bú-Bakr showed me also another far smaller, but not less voracious insect, which they call “kunjungjúdu,” a beetle about half an inch long, and of a yellow colour; but the poor natives, like the inhabitants of other countries in the case of the locust, do not fail to take their revenge, for when the insect has grown fat and big at their expense, they devour it themselves,—a habit which may be one of the numerous relics of their former pagan existence, it being still a general custom with the Sókoró to eat a large species of beetle called “dernána.”

Of other species of worms I shall have occasion to speak further on; but with the white and black ants I myself waged repeatedly a relentless but unsuccessful war during my residence in the country. Already, the second day of my stay in Bákadá, I observed that the white ant (termes fatalis) was threatening my couch, which I had spread upon a very coarse mat, or “síggedí” as the Kanúri, “lába” as the Bagírmi people call it, made of the thickest reed, with total destruction. I therefore, for want of a better protection, contrived an expedient which I thought would guarantee my berth against the further attacks of those cruel intruders, placing my couch upon three very large poles; but I soon had cause to discover that those ferocious insects were not to be deterred by such means, for two days afterwards, I found that they had not only built their entrenchments along the poles, and reached the top, but had eaten through both the coarse mats, finished a large piece of my Stambúli carpet, and destroyed several other articles. And during my further stay here I had the greatest trouble in preventing these insects from destroying all my things; for their voracity and destructive powers seem to increase towards the beginning of the rainy season, which was fast setting in.

The weather was exceedingly sultry, and we had the first thunder-storm on the 3rd of April; and from that time we experienced a tornado almost every day, although in general there was not much rain.

The village itself, of course, afforded very little entertainment. In former times it had been nothing but a slave or farming village, or “yóweó,” while the masters of the field-hands resided at another place called Kústiya; and it was only a few years previously that they had taken up their residence at this place; nevertheless even at present it is nothing better than a farming village, grain being the only produce of the place, while the inhabitants do not possess a single cow, so that milk and butter are great luxuries, and even a fowl quite out of the question. But as for grain, Bákadá is not without importance; on the contrary, it is one of the chief corn-growing places in the country, especially for sorghum (“ngáberí,” or, as they call it, “wá”), while millet (“chéngo”) is not so extensively grown.

A market is held every Sunday, near the western hamlet; but it is very miserable indeed, and it was all the worse for me, as the people refused to accept in payment any of those small articles of which I was still possessed, all my property at the time consisting of 3000 shells—that is to say, little more than a Spanish dollar,—a small assortment of beads, and a few looking-glasses, but principally needles, while here also the people required what I had not, namely, the cotton strips which I have mentioned above. The only luxury offered for sale in the market was a miserable lean sheep; and, as a representative of foreign civilization, there was half a sheet of common paper.

This was the sole attraction of the place, with the exception of my amiable, intelligent, and kind host Bú-Bakr Sadík. The poor old man was extremely indignant at the negligent manner in which I was treated; but he was feeble and timorous, and had no authority in higher spheres. The information which from time to time I collected from him during my monotonous stay in this place shall be given in the appendix, in the several places to which the subjects refer. It was very amusing for me to observe that the good old man, all the time that he was conversing with me, was not a moment idle; but he would either sew, not only for himself, but even articles of dress for another wife of his, whom he had in the capital, and soon intended to visit, or he would scrape some root to use as medicine, or else select some indigo, for dyeing his tobe, or, if he had nothing better to do, he would gather the single grains of corn which had fallen to the ground,—for in his pious frame of mind he thought it a sin that so valuable a proof of the bounty of the Almighty should be wasted.

The other inhabitants of the place were rather uninteresting; and I had a great deal of trouble with the same man who on our arrival had refused us hospitality, for, as he was sick and wanted a cooling medicine, I found the common remedies with which I was provided too weak for his herculean frame, till at length, with a dose of half a dozen ounces of Epsom salts, mixed up with three or four drachms of worm-powder, I succeeded in making him acknowledge the efficacy of my medicines.

In general the Bagírmi people are much better made than the Bórnu, the men excelling them in size, as well as in muscular strength, as they do also in courage and energy of mind, while the women are far superior. The Bagírmi females in general are very well made, taller and less square than the ugly Bórnu women, but with beautifully-proportioned limbs, while their features have a great deal of regularity and a pleasing expression; some of them might even be called handsome, with their large dark beautiful eyes. The broad nostrils of the Bórnu females, which are still more disfigured by the ugly coral on the left side of the nose, are entirely foreign to them. While the Bórnu females in general endeavour only to excel by the quantity of fat or butter which they put upon their hair, the Bagírmi women bestow considerable care upon its arrangement; and the way in which they wear it, imitating exactly the shape of the crest of a helmet, is very becoming, as it harmonizes exceedingly well with their tall and well-proportioned figures. It is therefore not without reason that the Bagírmi females are celebrated over a great part of Negroland. Their dress is very simple, similar to that of the Bórnu, namely, the black “túrkedí,” which is fastened across the breast, while the wealthier among them usually throw a second one over the shoulder.

The women in general seemed to be very healthy; but the men suffer much from a peculiar sickness which they themselves call “mukárdam,” while the Arabs call it by the same name as the “Guinea-worm,” namely, “ferentít,” or “ʿarúk,” although it seems to be a very different thing; it is a sort of worm which dwells in the little toe, and eats it gradually away, beginning at the joint, so that the limb has the appearance of being tied up with a thread. I think this insect is identical with the Malis Americana or Sauvagesii, or, as it is more generally called, pulex penetrans, a very small black insect well known in America. This disease is so general hereabouts, that amongst ten people you will find at least one who has only four toes.

At times the village was enlivened by some little intercourse,—now a caravan of pilgrims, then a troop of native merchants, tugúrchi or fatáki. The pilgrims were some of them on their home-journey, with the impressions which they had received of things scarcely intelligible to themselves, others going eastward with the narrow prejudices which they had brought from their distant homes. There were people from every region of Negroland; but unfortunately I had scarcely anything to offer them besides needles, with which article I gladly assisted them on their arduous journey, for nothing is of so much importance to the traveller as to gain the goodwill of these people, who are the bearers of public opinion in these regions. Thus my liberality of making presents of needles, and nothing but needles, procured me the title among these witty people, of the Needle-Prince, “maláríbra;” and although it was useful, in order to convince them of my friendly disposition, it was scarcely sufficient to open an intimate intercourse with them. But there was one amongst these distant wanderers, a native of Kébbi, a very intelligent man, from whom I derived my first information about the populousness of that fine and beautiful country which I was soon to visit myself.

A numerous troop of pilgrims from Wándalá or Mándará also created a considerable interest; and I entered with them into lively polemics concerning the relation of their prince, or “tuksé-malé,” with the ruler of Bórnu, for they denied positively that their chief had tendered his subjection in order to avert from his own country that numerous host which we had accompanied a few months previously to the Músgu country. The poorer members of the caravan went round about the hamlets beating their drums, in order to collect alms to supply their wants during their meritorious journey, while the wealthier among them came to my host in order to buy from him their supply of native corn.

The commercial intercourse also which took place in the little village where I was obliged to make so long a stay, exhibited some more interesting features, notwithstanding the dulness of the market; for among the merchants there appeared occasionally a small troop of Háusa people—dangarúnfa, slender active fellows, accustomed to fatigue, and content with little profit, who were carrying on their heads, all the way from Kanó to Bagírmi, small parcels of indigo-dyed shirts, and other commodities, in order to barter them for the fine asses of Dár-Fúr, which are brought hither by the travellers from the east.

Not less interesting was the arrival of a portion of a numerous caravan of Jellába, from Nimró in Wádáy, who had come to Más-eñá; it consisted of about a dozen people, with about twenty pack-oxen and asses. As for the principal part of the caravan, the chief commodity imported by them was copper, which they were bringing from the great copper-mine, or el hofra, situated to the south of Dár-Fúr, carrying it as far as Kanó towards the west, where this fine eastern copper rivals the old copper which is brought by the Arab caravans from Tripoli. But these people who had arrived in Bákadá were the poorer members of the troop; and their wealth and exclusive article of commerce was a very excellent quality of rock salt, which the Tebu-Gurʿaán bring from the Burrum or Bahr el Ghazál to Wára, where it is bought in great quantities by the Jellába, who sell it in small parcels, carrying it as far as Logón and Kúsuri. I bought a little for a sheet of paper, and found it excellent, with the exception of its having decidedly a fishy taste.

It was but very rarely that I mounted my horse, as I purposely avoided everything which was likely to attract attention, or create envious and jealous feelings; but on the 10th of the month, I was obliged by circumstances to take a long ride, as my she-camel, which at the time was my only beast of burden, was missing, and not a trace of her could be found. On the south-east side of the village there is much forest of a very uniform character, interspersed with tall reed-grass; but on the other sides a great deal of cultivation was to be seen, shaded by hájilíj (or “jánga,” as it is called here), nebek or “kírna,”[40] and talha-trees, here called “keláya.” I found it very remarkable that almost all the fields, even those where millet and sorghum were grown, were laid out in deep furrows, called derába,—a system of tillage which, in the case of any sort of grain, I had not before observed in Negroland. Besides grain, a good deal of sesamum (“kárru”), cotton (“nyére”), and indigo (“alíni”) was cultivated, the plants being from two and a half to three feet in height, and bare of leaves at the present season. On the north-east side, also, there was a great deal of forest; but it was adorned by some groups of fine trees. It was enlivened by numbers of Guinea fowl and gazelles; and a great number of “kálgo” trees, with their wide-spreading branches, were observed here. The soil had been already tolerably saturated with moisture, fine tufts of succulent grass were springing up here and there, and I was enabled to water my horse at a small pool; but this abundance of the watery element, of course, was only temporary, in consequence of the heavy rain which had fallen the previous night, and the poor inhabitants were still to suffer most severely from drought, their deep well being almost dry. This was the only point in regard to which I had continual disputes with the inhabitants, who would scarcely allow my horse to get his sufficient quantum, although I had to pay a considerable sum for it.

Meanwhile I waxed impatient. At length, on the evening of the 6th of April, my escort Gréma (whom on the last day of March I had sent to the capital to bring me a decisive answer without delay) returned with a messenger of the lieutenant-governor,—not, however, to grant either of my requests, but rather to induce me to wait patiently till an answer should arrive from the sultan himself. In order that I might not starve in the meanwhile, they brought me a sheep and a shirt, with which I might buy provision in some neighbouring village; but as there was nothing to be got besides millet and sorghum, I declared it to be absolutely necessary for me either to be admitted into the capital, or to retrace my steps. I requested Gréma to stay with me; but he pretended he was obliged to return to the town, where his servant lay sick. Not suspecting that he wanted to leave me alone, and to join the Sultan on the expedition, I allowed him to go, and resolved to wait a few days in patience. But, restless and impatient as I was, the delay pressed heavily upon me; and when on the 13th my kind and amiable host Bú-Bakr Sadík himself went to the capital, I had nothing to calm my disquietude. Through my host, I had once more addressed myself to the lieutenant-governor, requesting to be admitted into the capital without further delay; and Bú-Bakr had promised me, in the most distinct terms, that before Thursday night, which was the 15th, I should have a decisive answer. Having only one weak camel to carry my luggage, I had taken scarcely any books with me on this excursion to Bagírmi, and the little information which I had been able to gather was not sufficient to give my restless spirit its proper nourishment; and I felt, therefore, mentally depressed. The consequence was, that when Thursday night passed away, and neither Bú-Bakr himself arrived, nor any message from him, I determined to put my threat into execution, and to retrace my steps the following morning.