Chapter IV (1)

With three Cossacks, seven Kalmucks, eight rifles, and a store of powder and lead, Mr. Atkinson passed into the Gobi. His Kalmucks had their hair cut close, except a tuft growing on the top of the head, which was plaited into a long tail, and hung far down their back. The chief was named Tchuck-a-bir, a stalwart, powerful fellow, with a fine manly countenance, large black eyes, and massive forehead. He wore a horse-skin cloak, fastened round his waist with a blood-red scarf. In warm weather he drew his arms from the sleeves, which were then tucked into his girdle, and the cloak draped around him in graceful folds, adding to the dignity of his tall and robust form.

Across the Kourt-Choum mountains the travellers took their way, directing their course towards the Tanguor chain, many of the peaks of which soar above the line of eternal snow. Ascending one of these summits, they enjoyed a noble prospect: immediately beneath them lay the Oubsa-Noor; to the south-west were visible the Oulan-Koum Desert and the Aral-Noor; to the south lay Tchagan Tala, and the ridges descending down to the Gobi; to the south-east the white crests of the Khangai Mountains. This was such a view of Central Asia as never before had European enjoyed.

Keeping far away to the east, they approached the sources of the Selenga and Djabakan, in the neighbourhood of which he hoped to meet with the Kalka tribes. In a rich green valley they came upon one of their auls, and were hospitably received by Arabdan, the chief, who, according to the custom of the desert, at once handed to Mr. Atkinson a bowl of tea. Not, indeed, tea as we English understand it, the clear thin fluid, sweetened with sugar and tempered with cream; but a thick “slab” mixture of tea, milk, butter, salt, and flour—tea-soup it might appropriately be called. Arabdan was tall and thin, between fifty and sixty years of age, dark-complexioned, with high cheek-bones, small black eyes, a prominent nose, and a scanty beard. His meagre figure was wrapped in a long dark-blue silk khalat, buttoned across his chest; in a leather girdle, adorned with a silver buckle, he carried his knife, flint, and steel. His helmet-shaped black silk cap was trimmed with black velvet, and looked very gay with its two broad red ribbons hanging down behind. This brave costume was completed by a pair of high-heeled, madder-coloured boots. As for the women, one wore a robe of black velvet, the other a khalat of red and green silk; the waist of each was defined by a broad red sash. Their hair was fantastically coiffured, falling upon their shoulders in a hundred small plaits, some of which glittered with coral beads, the principal toilette ornament of the Mongolian women. Their red leather boots were very short and high at the heels, so that they walked as badly and awkwardly as English ladies. The children wore little more than nature had provided them with; except that, by rolling in the mud, they contrived to coat their bodies with reddish ochre, in striking contrast to their elfin locks of jet black.

Externally the yourts of the Kalkas resemble those of the Kalmucks, but they differ in the arrangements of the interior. A small low table is placed opposite the doorway, and upon it the upper idols, or household gods, and several small metal vases, are set out. In some are kept grains of millet; in others, butter, milk, and koumis—offerings to the aforesaid deities. On the left side of this altar stand the boxes which contain the family property, and near them various domestic utensils and the indispensable koumis bag. Opposite lie several piles of voilock, on which the family take their rest.

Immediately on Mr. Atkinson’s arrival a sheep was slain to do him honour, and it was soon steaming in the iron caldron, with the exception of a portion broiled for his special delectation. Supper, however, was not served in the chief’s yourt, but in another; to which everybody repaired with appetites which suggested that they had fasted for weeks. When the completest possible justice had been done to the mutton, men, women, and children retired to their rude couches.

Next morning our indefatigable traveller was once more in the saddle. We cannot follow him in all the details of his daily journeyings, which necessarily bore a close resemblance to one another; but we may accompany him on a visit to the great Kalkas chief, Darma Tsyren. On entering his yourt, Mr. Atkinson was entertained with tea-soup as usual. Then, he says—

“The chief sat down in front of me, and the two young men who had conducted me sat near him—they were his sons. Beyond these sat ten or twelve other Kalkas, watching my movements with intense interest. I was undoubtedly the first European they had ever seen. My large felt hat, shooting jacket, and long boots, will be remembered for years to come—not that I think they admired the costume; theirs is far more picturesque. Presently a number of women came into the yourt, and at their head the wife of the chief. She sat down near him, and was joined by her daughter; the others got places where they could; but the gaze of all was upon me. No doubt it would have been highly amusing could I have understood their remarks, as they kept up an incessant talking.

“At this moment a Cossack brought my samovar into the yourt; and these people were much astonished to see the steam puffing out, with no fire under it. One man placed his hand on the top, and got his fingers burnt, to the great amusement of his friends. My dinner of broiled venison was brought in on a bright tin plate; this and the knife and fork excited their curiosity—such articles being quite new to them. They watched me eat my dinner, and nothing could induce them to move till the plates were taken away. Darma Tsyren had ordered a sheep to be killed, which had now been some time in the caldron. When the announcement was made that it was ready, I was soon left to myself; the whole aul, men, women, and children, were shortly enjoying the feast.”

From Darma Tsyren Mr. Atkinson obtained the loan of four Kalkas and twelve horses, and taking also two of his Kalmucks and two Cossacks, he started on a journey to the river Toss. In the evening he and his party encamped in a pretty valley, watered by a small lake, which supplied them with some snipes and ducks for supper. During the night a pack of wolves visited the encampment. On receiving warning of their approach by a distant howl, Mr. Atkinson loaded his double-barrelled gun and distributed ammunition among his people, in order to give the unwelcome visitors a warm reception. The horses were collected, and picketed in a spot between the camp and the lake. Nearer and nearer came the enemy; the tramp of their feet could be heard as they galloped forward. They reached the camp, and through the night air rang their ferocious howl. Some dry bushes flung on the fire kindled a sudden flame, which revealed their gaunt figures, with eyes flashing and ears and tails erect; and immediately a deadly volley crashed into their midst. With a yell of pain and terror they turned tail; and Mr. Atkinson and his party hastened to reload their guns, feeling certain they would return.

The fire flickered down among its embers, and for a time all was silent. Then arose a stir and an alarm among the horses; and it was discovered that the pack had divided, one division stealing upon the animals from the water side, the other interposing between them and the camp. A rush and a shout of the Kalmucks and Kalkas drove them back; and a Cossack and a Kalmuck wore posted on each flank, to guard the approaches and give the alarm. Moreover, the fire was replenished, and its glare lighted up the scene for miles around. A hush, and a moment of expectation! Then might you see the hungry pack advancing once more to the assault, with eyeballs glaring like red-hot iron. A crack of rifles on the right was followed by Mr. Atkinson’s two barrels, one of which brought down its victim, while the other, discharged into the midst of the pack, wounded two or three. Gradually the growling ceased; the wolves again retired; but both Kalkas and Kalmucks advised that a close watch should be kept, as they would certainly make a third effort.

There was little fuel left, and it was necessary, therefore, to be doubly vigilant. The night was one of deep darkness, without moon or stars, and nothing could be seen, even at a short distance, except towards the lake, where a shimmer of dubious light rested on the waters. Keen ears and eyes were on the alert, but no sight or sound of wolf rewarded their watchfulness. The Kalkas said the wolves were simply waiting until all was silent in the camp to make another dash at the horses. For a long time, however, no movement was made, when two of the horses grew uneasy, tugging at the thongs and snorting loudly. At the same time, the clouds cleared from the sky, and the stars peering forth threw more light upon the lake. Howling was heard in the distance, and Tchuck-a-bir declared that another pack of wolves was approaching. As they drew near, the former pack, still lurking in the shades, began to growl, and it seemed possible that a combined attack would be delivered. In order to renew the fire, four of the men, two being armed, crept along the margin of the lake, returning in about ten minutes, each with an armful of fuel. The embers were stirred into life, and the brushwood placed ready to be blown into a flame when wanted. Suddenly a great tumult arose; the other wolves had come on the scene, and the echoes rang with a medley of discordant sounds. Again the watchers waited; and after their patience had been tested for half an hour, the horses began to pull and plunge in frenzied terror. The bushes were lighted, and by their blaze Mr. Atkinson saw a group of eight to ten wolves within fifteen paces. He fired both barrels at them; his men also fired; and the herd, with a frightful howl, ignominiously fled. At daylight Mr. Atkinson examined the scene of action, and found the carcases of eight wolves. With their skins as trophies, he returned to Darma Tsyren’s aul.

* * * * *

A day or two later, Mr. Atkinson had an adventure with boars. Leaving four men to guard the camp, he had ridden out, with five followers, in search of sport. Plunging into a thick copse of long grass and low bushes, they started more than one boar from his lair, and tracing them by their motion in the herbage, galloped in hot pursuit. As they emerged into the open, they could see two large dark grizzly boars about a couple of hundred yards ahead, and spurred after them with might and main. Rapidly they gained upon the panting brutes, and when within about fifty yards, Mr. Atkinson and a Cossack sprang from their horses, fired, and wounded one of the boars. While they reloaded, the rest of the party galloped on, and presently other shots wore fired. The boars had separated: one, dashing across the valley, was followed up by two of the men; the other was pursued by Mr. Atkinson and his Cossack. After a splendid chase, they drew near enough to see the foam on his mouth, and his large tusks gnashing with rage. The Cossack fired; the ball hit him, but did not check his wild, impetuous course. Swiftly Mr. Atkinson urged on his horse, got abreast of the animal at about twenty paces distant, and lodged a bullet in his shoulder. This stopped him, but it took two more shots to kill him. He proved to be a noble fellow, weighing nine poods, or about 324 lbs., with long, sharp tusks, which would have been formidable weapons in a close encounter.

Leaving the Cossack and a Kalmuck to dress the prize and convey it to the camp, Mr. Atkinson, after reloading his arms, hastened to join the rest of his party, who were in full chase on the other side of the river, at a distance of about three versts. He rode briskly forward, but the hunt was at an end before he reached the river. His followers, on joining him, announced that they had killed a large boar, though not the one first started. He had escaped, and while they were searching for his trail amid some reeds and bushes, a large boar sprang in among them, and charged at a Cossack’s horse. When within three or four paces of his intended victim he was stopped by a bullet from Tchuck-a-bir’s rifle; but he got away before a second shot could be fired, and an animated chase began. He received several balls, but they seemed to have no effect on his impenetrable hide. Rushing into the river, he swam across, at a point where it expanded into a deep broad pool; the men followed him, and a ball from one of the Kalmucks inflicted a severe wound. Furious with rage and pain, he dashed full at the man who had wounded him; the Kalmuck dexterously wheeled his horse aside, and a ball from Tchuck-a-bir laid the monster dead. With two large boars as the spoils of their prowess, Mr. Atkinson and his “merry men” returned to camp triumphant.

Mr. Atkinson next travelled in a southerly direction for two days; after which he turned to the west, and struck upon the river Ouremjour; his object being to enter the Gobi to the north of the great chain of the Thian-Chan, or, as he calls them, Syan-Shan Mountains. These are the highest in Central Asia, and amongst them rises that stupendous mass, Bogda Oöla, with the volcanoes Pe-shan and Hothaou, to see which was his leading purpose and aim. He gives an animated description of his approach to the Syan-Shan. A bright sun was rising behind the wayfarer, but its rays had not yet gilded the snowy peaks in his front. As he rode onward he watched for the first bright gleam that lighted up the ice and snow on Bogda Oöla; presently the great crest reddened with a magical glow, which gradually spread over the rugged sides, and as it descended, changed into yellow and then into silvery white. For many minutes Bogda Oöla was bathed in sunshine before the rays touched any of the lower peaks. But in due time summit after summit shot rapidly into the brave red light, and at last the whole chain shone in huge waves of molten silver, though a hazy gloom still clothed the inferior ranges. In these atmospheric effects we cannot but recognize a marvellous grandeur and impressiveness; there is something sublimely weird in the sudden changes they work among the stupendous mountain masses. Onward fared the traveller, obtaining a still finer view of Bogda Oöla, and of some of the other peaks to the west; but, as the day advanced, the clouds began to fold around its head, and the huge peak was soon clothed with thick surging wreaths of vapour. The lower range of the Syan-Shan is picturesque in the extreme; jagged peaks stand out in bold relief against the snow-shrouded masses, which tower up some eight to ten thousand feet above them, while the latter are clothed with a luminous purple mist that seems not to belong to this world. Mr. Atkinson continued his route in a north-westerly direction, towards one of the lower chains which run nearly parallel with the Syan-Shan. Thence he could see the Bogda Oöla in all its grand sublimity, and the volcanic peak Pe-shan, with black crags outlined against the snow, still further to the west; while beyond these a long line of snow-capped summits melted into the vaporous distance.

In the course of his wanderings in Chinese Tartary, our traveller saw much of the Kirghiz chiefs, the Sultans of the steppes. On one occasion, while riding in the sterile desert, he fell in with the aul of Sultan Ishonac Khan—a stoutly built man, with strong-marked Kalmuck features, who, in right of his descent from the famous Genghiz Khan, wore an owl’s feather suspended from the top of his cap. His costume was gallant and gay; Chinese silk, richly embroidered.

About fifty versts to the south of Sultan Ishonac’s aul, lie the Barluck Mountains, situated between the Tarbagatai and the Alatou Mountains, and eastward of the small rocky chain of the Ala-Kool, which extends some sixty versts from east to west, and measures about twenty-five in breadth. The highest summit is not more than three thousand feet above the plain. Vegetation thrives on the lower slopes, but the upper parts are gloomily bare. From Sultan Ishonac Khan Mr. Atkinson obtained a loan of fresh horses, and of eight of his Kirghiz to escort him to the Tarbagatai. A dreary ride it was,—over sandy hills, through sandy valleys, where not even a blade of grass was green. In many places the ground was thickly covered with a saline incrustation, which the horses’ feet churned up into a pungent dust, that filled every mouth and caused intolerable thirst. Welcome was the glimmer of a lake that relieved by its sparkle the dulness of the landscape; but when horse and man rushed forward to drink of its waters, to their intense disappointment they found them bitter as those of Marah. Not till the evening of the fifth day, when they reached the river Eremil, did they enjoy the luxury of fresh water.

Next day they reached the Tarbagatai, in the neighbourhood of the Chinese town of Tchoubuchack, and encamped for the night at the foot of a great tumulus or barrow, about one hundred and fifty feet high, which is surrounded by many smaller barrows. They are the last resting-places of a Kirghiz chief and his people, who belonged to a remote generation, and to a race of which these tumuli are the only memorials. Another day’s ride, and they arrived at the aul of Sultan Iamantuck, of whom and his family Mr. Atkinson speaks as by far the most intelligent people he met with in this part of Asia. The aul was pitched among high conical tombs of sun-burnt bricks, the cemetery of the Sultan’s ancestors; and it appears that once a year it was regularly visited by their pious descendant and representative. With another relay of horses and a fresh Kirghiz escort, Mr. Atkinson dashed onward, undeterred by the dreariness of the sandy level, where neither water nor grass was to be found, and the only living things were tarantulas and scorpions. His course lay direct for the Alatou (“Variegated Mountains”), and he could see the shining peaks of the Actou (“White Mountain”), which forms its highest crest, and raises its summits fourteen to fifteen thousand feet above the sea. After fording the broad deep stream of the Yeljen-sa-gash, he arrived on the shore of Lake Ala-kool, measuring about sixty-five versts in length by twenty in width, with a rocky island near the north shore, erroneously described by Humboldt as the site of a volcano. It has no outlet, yet it receives the tribute of eight rivers; the water is carried off by evaporation.

Here Mr. Atkinson struck westward to find the aul of Sultan Bak, the Rothschild of the steppes; a man who owns ten thousand horses, and a proportionate number of camels, sheep, and oxen. Wealthy men are not always well disposed towards stranger guests, and Sultan Bak evinced his dislike of intrusion by sending Mr. Atkinson a diseased sheep! This was immediately returned, with an intimation that Mr. Atkinson wanted neither his company nor his gifts; he was the first Sultan who had shown himself so discourteous, and though he had a large body, it was clear his heart was that of a mouse. It is not surprising that a message of this kind provoked him to wrath. He ordered the intruders to quit his aul; if they did not, his men should drive them into the lake. But when he found that they were well armed, that discretion which is the better part of valour enabled him to subdue his temper; he sent one of his finest sheep as a peace-offering, with an assurance that they might stay as long as they liked, and should have men and horses when they left. Evidently the Kirghiz patriarch knew how to make the best of a bad situation.

Accompanied by his poet, he paid a visit to Mr. Atkinson’s camp, supped heartily off his own mutton, and exchanged the warmest professions of friendship. The minstrel, at his master’s bidding, sang wild songs to wilder tunes in glorification of the prowess and freebooting expeditions of the Sultan and his ancestors, to the great edification of the listening Kirghiz. So the evening passed peacefully, and the Sultan and the white man parted on cordial terms. Next day, Mr. Atkinson was riding towards the Karatou, a mountainous chain of dark purple slate; and six days later he visited Sultan Boubania, on the river Lepson. In the neighbourhood were many large tumuli, the largest being the most ancient. One of these was built up of stone, and formed a circle of 364 feet in diameter, with a dome-like mound thirty-three feet in height. Tradition has not preserved the name of the dead honoured with so extraordinary a memorial; the Kirghiz attribute it to demons working under the direction of Shaitan. Another kind of tumulus, of more recent construction, was circular in plan, but carried up to the height of fifty-four feet, in the shape of “a blast furnace,” with an aperture at the top, and lateral opening two feet square and four feet from the ground. In the interior were two graves covered with large blocks of stone. According to the Kirghiz, these tombs were built by the people who inhabited the country before the Kalmucks. A third kind, of sunburnt bricks, and Mohammedan in design, are ascribed to Timour Khan and his race.

Through the rocky gorge of the Balïïtz, Mr. Atkinson commenced his ascent of the Alatou. His eye rested with pleasure on the richly coloured rocks that composed the cliffs on either side—deep red porphyry, flecked with veins of white; slate, jasper, and basalt. He explored several of the valleys that break up the lower mass of the mountain chain, and rode along many of its elevated ridges. Sometimes the roar of torrents filled his ears; sometimes bright streams and sources sparkled in the sunshine; sometimes he saw before him a fair mosaic of wild flowers; sometimes the landscape was ennobled by the conspicuous figures of white mountain peaks, relieved by a background of deep blue sky; sometimes the distant vapours hovered wraith-like above the calm surface of Lake Tengiz. From a plateau not far beneath the line of perpetual snow he obtained a noble view of the Actou, and, to the south, of the lofty and picturesque peaks of the Alatou; while, nearer at hand, the river Ara poured its thunderous waters into a gorge some thousand feet in depth. The plateau was covered with tumuli; one of which, measuring two hundred feet in diameter and forty feet in height, was enclosed within a trench, twelve feet wide and six feet deep. On the west side stood four masses of large stones in circles; the altars, perhaps, on which, long ago, victims were sacrificed to appease some sanguinary deity. It is a tradition of the Kirghiz that these antiquities belonged to a native who, for some unknown cause, determined on a great act of murder and self-destruction, and that they were constructed before the terrible work was begun. They say that the father killed his wife and all his children, excepting the eldest son, on whom devolved the duty of killing, first his father, and then himself.

Mr. Atkinson visited, near the river Kopal, the Arasan, or warm spring, which wells up in the centre Of a ravine formed of yellow and purple marbles. Its temperature, all round the year, is 29′ R. or 97° F. Here, in a remote past, the Kalmucks built a bath, which is still frequented by Tartars, Kirghiz, and Chinese. The waters, it is said, are wonderfully beneficial for scurvy and other cutaneous disorders.

Another route carried him to the Tamchi-Boulac, or “Dropping Spring,” at the foot of the Alatou. The water oozes out of columnar cliffs in myriads of tiny streams that glitter like showers of diamonds; while in some parts they seem changed to drops of liquid fire by the reflected colouring of the rocks, which vary in colour from a bright yellow to a deep red.

For one hundred and three days Mr. Atkinson wandered among the Alatou Mountains, exploring peak, precipice, valley, and ravine; surveying torrent and river and waterfall; now ascending far above the line of perpetual snow, now descending into warm and sheltered woods, where the greensward was enamelled with blossoms. From the eastern end of the Alatou, a seventeen days’ ride over hill and steppe brought him to the Russian frontier and the comforts of civilization at Semipalatinsk. But, almost as strongly possessed with the spirit of continuous motion as the Wandering Jew in the grim old legend, he next set forth on a journey across Siberia, from its western boundary on the Irtisch, to its Oriental capital, Irkutsk. In the course of his long journey he visited the Saian Mountains; ascended the valley of the Oka; explored a bed of lava and a volcanic crater in the valley of the Ojem-a-louk; rode across the rugged shoulder of Nouk-a-Daban; and descended the little river Koultouk to Lake Baikal, or, as the natives call it, the Holy Sea. Hiring a small boat, with a crew of seven men, he crossed the lake to the mouth of the river Angara. Baikal is the third largest lake in Asia—about four hundred miles in length, and varying in breadth from nineteen miles to seventy. Though fed by numerous streams, it has only one outlet, the Angara, a tributary of the Yenisei. Lying deep among the Baikal Mountains, an off-shoot of the Altai, it presents some vividly coloured and striking scenery. Its fisheries are valuable. In the great chain of communication between Russia and China it holds an important place, and of late years its navigation has been conducted by steamboats. The native peoples inhabiting its borders are the Buriats and Tungusians.

Mr. Atkinson spent eight and twenty days in exploring this Alpine sea, and afterwards proceeded to Irkutsk. {228}

ALEXINA TINNÉ AND HER WANDERINGS IN THE SOUDAN.

ABOUT 1862, letters from Khartûm, the capital of Nubia, stimulated the curiosity of European geographers by announcing that three courageous ladies had undertaken a journey into Central Africa, with the view of reaching those mysterious Sources of the Nile which, for generations, had been the object of Western research. At first the news was received with suspicion; many persons did not hesitate to speak of it as a hoax; but incredulity vanished as the information grew more copious and more precise, and it became known that the guiding spirit of the adventure was a certain Miss Alexandrina or Alexina Tinné, a lady of great personal charms and very wealthy. It was then unanimously agreed that she was one of those brave daughters of England who, in the Continental belief, will go anywhere and do anything that is hazardous or eccentric. And though of Dutch extraction she really did owe something to English influences. Her father was a Dutch merchant who, after acquiring an ample fortune in Demerara, was naturalised in England, and finally settled at Liverpool. He died while Alexina (born in October, 1835) was still a child, but the wealthy heiress was brought up by her mother as befitted her social position. What impelled her, in her young maidenhood, to plunge into the dangers of African exploration—whether her action was due to a love of adventure, a thirst after knowledge, a spirit rebelling against the conventionalisms of society, or to baffled hope and slighted affection—does not seem to be known. But it is certain that about 1859 she set out from the Hague, accompanied by her mother and aunt, and visited various parts of Egypt and Syria. For some months she resided at Beirut and Tripoli; next she repaired to Damascus; afterwards, to the ruins of Palmyra, haunted by the memory of Zenobia; and, finally, she dreamed of imitating the romantic career of Lady Hester Stanhope, and installing herself as Queen of the Lebanon. Her mood, however, changed suddenly; she returned to Europe, not to resume the monotonous habits of social life, but to make preparations for an expedition in search of the Sources of the Nile.

In this daring project she appears to have been encouraged partly by her own fearlessness of nature; partly by the example of Mrs. Petherick, wife of the English consul at Khartûm, whose fame had spread far and wide; and partly by the flattering thought that it might be reserved for her, a woman, to succeed where so many brave men had failed, and to be the first to solve the great enigma of the Nilotic sphynx. What immortality would be hers if she triumphed over every danger and difficulty, and stood, where no European as yet had stood, on the margin of the remote well-head, the long secret spring, whence issued the waters of Egypt’s historic river! It must be owned that in this ambitious hope there was nothing mean or unworthy, and that it could have been possible only to a high and courageous nature.

She set out in the month of July, 1861, still accompanied by her mother and her aunt, two ladies of mediocre character, who readily yielded to the influence of a stronger mind. A part of the winter was spent in a pleasant country house in one of the suburbs of Cairo—a kind of palace of white marble, situated in the midst of odorous gardens, and looking out upon the ample Nile and the giant forms of the Pyramids. There they made extensive preparations for the contemplated journey; while Alexina spent many thoughtful hours in studying the map of Africa, in tracing the sinuosities of the White Nile above its point of junction with the Blue, in laying down the route which should carry her and her companions into the regions of the great lakes.

It was on the 9th of January, 1862, that she and her companions directed their course towards Upper Egypt, voyaging in three boats, attended by a numerous train of guides, guards, and servants. In the largest and most commodious “dahabeeyah” were installed the three ladies, with four European servants and a Syrian cook. Alexina’s journal, it is said, preserves many curious details in unconscious illustration of the mixed character of the expedition, which might almost have been that of a new Cleopatra going to meet a new Mark Antony; we see the Beauty there as well as the Heroine—the handsome woman who is mindful of her toilette appliances, as well as the courageous explorer, who does not forget her rifle and cartridges.

Passing in safety the first cataract, Miss Tinné’s expedition duly arrived at Kousko; where she and her companions took a temporary leave of the Nile, tourists, and civilization, and struck across the sandy desert of Kousko to Abu-Hammed, in order to avoid the wide curve which the river there makes to the westward. The caravan, besides Miss Tinné’s domestics, included six guides and twenty-five armed men. Of camels loaded with baggage and provisions, and dromedaries which carried the members of her suite, there were a hundred and ten. The desert did not prove so dreary as it had been painted; sand and rock were often relieved by patches of blooming vegetation; the monotony of the plains was often broken by ridges of swelling hills. The camels every evening browsed contentedly on the herbage, and quenched their thirst in the basins of water that sparkled in the rocky hollows.

The time usually required for crossing the desert is eight to nine days; but as Alexina advanced very leisurely, by daily stages not exceeding seven or eight hours, she occupied nearly three weeks. In spite of this easy mode of travelling, her mother was so fatigued that, on arriving at Abu-Hammed, on the banks of the Nile, she insisted they should again take to the river. A dahabeeyah was accordingly hired, along with six stalwart boatmen, who swore on the Koran to keep pace with the swiftest dromedaries. So while the caravan tramped onwards through the burning, shifting sand, Alexina and her companions voyaged up the Nile; but the rowers soon proved false to their promises, slackened their oars, and allowed the caravan to outstrip them. When reproached with their lethargy, they excused themselves on the score of the arduousness of their work and the great heat of the sun.

Meanwhile, the caravan had made considerable progress, and at nightfall tents were pitched and fires lighted. As no dahabeeyah could be seen, men were sent in search of it; but in vain. No news of it was obtained until the following day, when it was ascertained that the Egyptian boatmen had at last laid down their oars in sullen indolence, and that Miss Tinné and her companions had been compelled to spend the night in a Nubian village. The misadventure taught them the lesson that in Eastern countries it is generally wiser to trust to brutes than to men; the boatmen were dismissed, and the travellers once more joined the caravan.

But the heat proved insupportable, driving them to make a second experiment of the river traject. A boat was again hired; again they embarked on the glittering Nile; and again an evil fortune attended them. Instead of reaching Berber, as they should have done, in four days, the voyage was extended to over a week; but it was some compensation for their fatigue when, at two hours’ march from the city, they were received by some thirty chiefs, mounted upon camels, and attended by janizaries in splendid attire, who, with much pomp and circumstance, escorted them to the gates of Berber. There they were received by the governor with every detail of Oriental etiquette, installed in pavilions in his gardens, and waited upon in a spirit of the most courteous hospitality. No longer in need of a complete caravan, Miss Tinné dismissed her camel-drivers; but, desirous of leaving upon their minds an enduring impression, she rewarded them with almost prodigal liberality. Her gold coins were so lavishly distributed, that the Arabs, in surprise and delight, broke out into unaccustomed salutations; and to this very day, remembering her largesses, they sing of her glory, as if she had revived the splendour of Palmyra.

There was a policy in this apparently thoughtless profusion. As a natural result, her reputation everywhere preceded her; hospitality was pressed upon her with an eagerness which may have been dictated by selfish motives, but was not the less acceptable to her and her companions. Women, gathering round her, prostrated themselves at her feet. The young girls danced merrily at her approach; they took her for a princess, or, at least, they saluted her as such.

After a residence of some weeks at Berber, the adventurous ladies hired three boats, and ascended the Nile to Khartûm, the capital of the Egyptian Soudan. Situated at the confluence of the White and Blue Nile, it is the centre of an important commerce, and the rendezvous of almost all the caravans of Nubia and the Upper Nile. Unfortunately, it is one of the world’s _cloacinæ_, a kind of moral cesspool, into which the filth and uncleanness of many nations pours—Italians, Germans, Frenchmen, Englishmen, whom their own countries have repudiated; political gamblers, who have played their best card and failed; fraudulent bankrupts, unscrupulous speculators, men who have nothing to hope, nothing to lose, and are too callous to fear. The great scourge of the place, down to a very recent date, was the cruel slave-traffic, at that time carried on with the connivance of the Egyptian Government. Recently the energetic measures of Colonel Gordon have done much towards the extirpation of this cancerous growth, and even the moral atmosphere of the town has been greatly purified. To Alexina Tinné the place was sufficiently loathsome; but a residence of some weeks’ duration, while preparations were made for the advance into Central Africa, was imperative. She did what she could to avoid coming into contact with the “society” of Khartûm, and exerted all her energies to stimulate the labours of her subordinates, so that she might depart at the earliest possible moment. At length, provisions were collected, and a supply of trinkets to be used as gifts or in barter; an escort of thirty-eight men, including ten soldiers fully armed, and all bearing a good character for trustworthiness, was engaged; and, finally, she hired for the heavy sum of ten thousand francs, a small steamboat, belonging to Prince Halim. With a glad heart she quitted Khartûm, and resumed the ascent of the White Nile, passing through a succession of landscapes fair and fertile. As for the river, its quiet beauty charmed her; and she compared it to Virginia Lake, the pretty basin of water that sparkles in the leafy shades of Windsor Forest. Its banks are richly clothed with trees, chiefly gumtrees, which frequently attain the dimensions of the oak. But the graceful tamarisk is also abundant, and myriads of shrubs furnish the blue ape with a refuge and a home. The air glitters with the many-coloured wings of swarms of birds. On the bright surface of the stream spread the broad leaves and white petals of colossal lilies, among which the hippopotamus and the crocodile pursue their unwieldy gambols.

How marvellous the effects of colour when this magical scene is bathed in the hot rays of the sunshine! Through the transparent air every object is seen with a distinct outline, and the sense of distance is overcome. Where a shadow falls it is defined as sharply as on canvas; there is no softening or confusing mist; you see everything as in a mirror. In the noontide heats all nature is as silent here as in a virgin forest; but when the cool breath of evening begins to be felt, and that luminous darkness, which is the glory of a summer night in Central Africa, spreads softly over the picture, the multiform life of earth swiftly re-awakens; birds and butterflies hover in the air, the monkeys chatter merrily, and leap from bough to bough. The sounds which then break forth—song and hum and murmur, the roll of the river, the din of insects, the cries of the wild beasts—seem all to mingle in one grand vesper hymn, proclaiming the might and majesty of the Creator. These are generally hushed as the night wears on; and then myriads of fireflies and glow-worms light their tiny torches and illuminate the dark with a magical display; while the air is charged with sweet and subtle odours exhaled from the corollas of the plants which open only during the cool and tranquil hours.

While slowly making her way up the river, Alexina encountered an Egyptian pasha, who was returning with a booty of slaves from a recent razzia. She eagerly implored him to set the unhappy captives free, and when her solicitations failed, purchased eight of the poor creatures, to whom she immediately gave their liberty, supplying them also with provisions. This has been termed an act of Quixotism; it was rather one of generous womanly enthusiasm, and to our thinking redeems the failings of Alexina Tinné’s character—compensates for the follies and frivolities which encumbered her enterprise. Her heart was true to every gentle impulse, and she ceased not to suffer keenly at the sight of the wretched condition of the poor negroes who fell victims to an unholy traffic.

This traffic had aroused such feelings of hatred and revenge in the breasts of the riverine tribes of the Nile, that the passage of the river had become very dangerous, and the journey by land almost impossible. The natives looked upon every white man as a Turk and a slave-dealer; and when a boat appeared on the horizon, mothers cried with terror to their children, “The Tourké, the Tourké are coming!” The scarlet tarbouch, or fez, added to the repulsion. “It is the colour of blood just spilled,” said a negro to his family. “It never fades,” they said; “the Turk renews it constantly in the blood of the poor black men.”

Fortunately, they were able to distinguish between the boats of the slave-dealers and Alexina Tinné’s steamer. Twice or thrice they approached the latter; at first not without fear, but afterwards with good courage. “Is the young lady who commands,” they asked, “the Sultan’s sister? Does she come to assist or to persecute us?” When fully informed of the object of her pacific expedition, they rapidly grew familiar and ventured on board her boat. “Since you mean no evil against us,” they cried, “we will do _you_ no harm; we will love you!” They accepted from her hands a cup of tea, and courteously drank it without manifesting their repugnance; and they explained to her their usages and manners, and supplied her with interesting information respecting the surrounding country. Her reception was so much to her mind, that she would have remained for some time among this kindly people, had she not felt bound to prosecute her journey to the south.

Once more the sails were unfurled, the fires lighted, and the steamer ploughed its steady course towards the land of the Derikas. Two or three villages were seen on the river banks, but the landscape was bare and bland, and the adventurous Alexina pursued her voyage until she reached Mount Hunaya. There she landed and pitched her tents. When it was known to be her design to remain in this encampment during the rainy season, her followers raised a vehement opposition, protesting that they would be devoured by lions or trampled to death by elephants. Their mistress, however, remained firm in her intention; but as the steamer was in need of repair, she sent it back to Khartûm in charge of her aunt.

It was during this lady’s enforced residence at Khartûm that she made the acquaintance of an Englishman and his wife, whose names have become household words in every civilized nation—Sir Samuel and Lady Baker. Sir Samuel, who belongs to the illustrious company of African explorers, began his career of adventure by founding an agricultural colony at Nuvera Ellia—that is, six thousand feet above the sea, among the breezy mountain peaks of Ceylon. In 1855 he visited the Crimea, and afterwards he was engaged in superintending in Turkey the organization of its first railway. In 1861 he started with his wife on a journey of discovery in Central Africa, with the design of meeting the Government expedition, which, under Captain Speke, had been despatched in search of the Nile sources. In nearly a year he and his wife explored the Abyssinian highlands, which form the cradle of the Blue Nile, arriving at Khartûm in June, 1862. There he collected a large company to ascend the Upper Nile, and setting out in December, 1862, he reached Gondokoro in February, 1863, in time to meet Captain Speke and Grant returning victoriously from their discovery of the Victoria Nyanza. Baker furnished them with the means of transport to Khartûm, and then pushed forward across a district infested by slave-hunters, until he fell in with a great fresh-water basin, the Luta N’zize, which he christened the Albert Lake, or Nyanza, and ascertained to be one of the chief reservoirs or feeders of the Nile. He returned to England in 1866. Three years later, he accepted from the Khedive of Egypt the command of a military force, with unlimited powers, for the purpose of annexing savage Africa to the civilized world, and opening up its fertile lake-regions to the enterprise of legitimate commerce. The work, which was well done, occupied him until 1873, and was afterwards carried on by Colonel Gordon.

In all his adventures, which, as we shall see, were often of a most critical character, Sir Samuel was accompanied by his wife, whose sympathy consoled, while her example inspired him. This brave and chivalrous lady gave abundant proof of her heroic courage, her devoted affection, and her indomitable resolution.

When the repairs of her vessel were completed, Alexina Tinné returned to Gebel Hunaya. She was received with shouts of joy, and with a salute of several pieces of artillery, which awakened the greatest trepidation among the natives. Some few incidents had occurred during her absence, but none of a very notable character. One morning, Alexina was reading at a short distance from the camp. Feeling thirsty, she turned towards a rivulet which sparkled among the herbage close at hand; but as she approached it, the dog which accompanied her barked loudly with affright, and showed a manifest unwillingness to draw nearer to the rocks impending over the stream. Accepting this intimation of danger, Alexina stepped forward very cautiously, and soon discovered a young panther lurking behind the rugged boulders. She had the presence of mind to stand perfectly still, while she summoned her soldiers and servants to her assistance. They speedily came up, and, drawing a cordon round the animal, succeeded in capturing it alive. On another occasion, her men killed, before her eyes, a huge crocodile, which was duly stuffed as a trophy. They also caught a great ape, whose head was covered with long hair, mixed black and white. The animal would have been a valuable specimen of the African fauna, but, unfortunately, it died within a few months of its capture.

On the 7th of July, the steamer, which was heavily loaded and towed two boats, left Hunaya, to continue its course up the river. Between Hunaya and the confluence of the Bahr-el-Ghazal (the Gazelle river) the scenery is far from being attractive; the river banks are arid, and sunburnt. Here and there, however, grow clumps of whispering reeds and aquatic plants; while, at other points, the river overflows its limits for two or three thousand yards, creating, on each side, an inaccessible swamp.

The voyagers did not pause until they reached the settlement of an Arab chief, named Mohammed-Cher, who by his audacity had subjected the neighbouring tribes, and ruled supreme over this part of the Soudan. When, as frequently happened, he was in want of money, he exercised the right of the strong hand, and, at the head of his freebooters, sallied forth; destroying villages, slaying the male inhabitants, seizing upon the women and children, and carrying off the cattle. He loved to surround himself with barbaric pomp, and paraded upon a magnificent horse, the saddle of which was embroidered with gold and silver, and sparkled with precious stones. But when our voyagers arrived at his village, this great warrior showed signs of recreancy; he was terrified by the Turkish soldiers who occupied the steamer’s deck. It was supposed to be owing to this spasm of alarm that he received the ladies with royal honours, sending them sheep, oxen, fruit, vegetables, dancers, archæological curiosities; in short, he seemed anxious to offer them all he possessed. Afterwards, however, the secret of his ready liberality came out; the swarthy chieftain thought he was doing honour to the favourite daughter of the Grand Turk—in his zeal, he was anxious to proclaim her Queen of the Soudan.

When his visitors were taking leave, he strongly advised them not to advance further to the south. “Take care,” said he, “you do not come into collision with the Shillooks, who are our sworn enemies, and the enemies of all who cross their frontiers. Take care that they do not set fire to your boats, as they have already done to all vessels coming from Khartûm.”

In spite of these warnings, Alexina Tinné resolutely continued her voyage, and, a few days later, anchored off a Shillook village. The sailors, frightened by Mohammed’s story, would not approach it; she therefore landed with only an interpreter, an officer, and an escort of ten soldiers. But the news of the arrival of a daughter of the Sultan had preceded her, and instead of being received as an enemy, she was welcomed with every demonstration of respect. The Shillooks, as is the case with savage tribes in all parts of the world, endeavour to engage every stranger in their personal enmities; and they now hoped to secure the assistance of the expedition against that terrible Mohammed-Cher, who, only a few days before, had shown so much anxiety to proclaim the European lady Queen of the Soudan. When she refused to join in their campaign, their disappointment was extreme. All travellers speak warmly of this unfortunate tribe, who suffer scarcely less from Europeans than from Arabs. The conditions under which they live are very pitiful; wherever they turn, they are met by enemies. Constantly falling victims to the cruelty of the slave-hunters, it is no wonder that they regard with suspicion, and too often treat with ferocity, the strangers who come among them; naturally implicating them in the traffic by which they suffer so severely. The slave-hunting abomination is, we must repeat, the mortal wound of Central Africa; it impedes commercial enterprise, and paralyzes the efforts of the pioneers of Christian civilization. Let us hope that, in the lake regions, the vigorous action of Colonel Gordon has greatly diminished, if it has not absolutely rooted out, the evil.

Pressing southward with unshaken resolution, Alexina Tinné reached at length the junction of the Sobat with the Nile. She resolved to ascend that tributary as far as it was navigable, calculating that the _excursus_, going and returning, would occupy seven or eight days. The valley of the Sobat is more interesting in character than much of the course of the White Nile. Its broad pastures, stretching away to the distant horizon, teem with flocks of ostriches and herds of giraffes. The river banks are thickly indented by the heavy hoofs of elephants, and the colossal animals themselves wander freely over the uplands. For some weeks the voyagers lingered in the Sobat, well pleased with its succession of striking scenes; and then they steamed up the Nile again, until they reached the mouth of the Bahr-el-Ghazal, the majestic stream which, with slow current, traverses Lake Nû.

Here the Nile strikes sharply towards the south, forming a complete right angle; and broadens into an imposing expanse of shining waters.

The flora of the surrounding country is very picturesque: tamarinds, mimosas, climbing plants, the papyruses, and the euphorbias thrive in unchecked luxuriance, as they have thriven for countless centuries, and blend together their thick growth of various foliage. The colouring of the flowers is often so intense that the eye aches in contemplating it. It should be added that the euphorbia, which is very common in this region, yields a poisonous milky juice, in which the natives dip their arrows. A scratch from one of these envenomed weapons will rapidly prove mortal.

Beyond Lake Nû, the White Nile breaks into an intricate series of curves and meanders, pouring its waters downwards with violent swiftness. Such, indeed, was the strength of the flood, that the steamer was compelled to throw off the towing-rope of the two dahabiehs, and the sailors and servants landed in order to haul them against the stream. But in the greatest stress of the current the rope broke, and the boats, drifting away, were threatened with destruction. Osman Aga, a resolute and courageous soldier, who was on the deck of the steamer, seized another rope and leaped instantly into the river. With vigorous strokes he made for the shore. He had almost gained it, and had flung the rope to his expectant comrades, when he suddenly disappeared. After a while his dead body was found, and immediate preparations were made to give it an honourable burial. Wrapped round, according to the custom of the country, with twenty yards of calico, it was interred, in the presence of the whole crew, at the foot of a patriarchal tree, on the trunk of which was cut a commemorative inscription.

Some days after this melancholy event, the expedition ascended the river to Heiligenkreuz, where some Austrian Catholic missionaries have founded a settlement. Remaining there until the 15th of September, Alexina Tinné made a short excursion into the interior, crossing rivers, traversing forests, and meeting with numerous villages, half hidden in leafiness.