Chapter I: From Tunis to Tripoli (6)

Owing to the camels having strayed, it was very late when we left our encampment, and entered a sort of flat valley, from which we ascended to a higher level. From this we obtained a distant glance, towards the W.S.W., of the ruins of a fortress called Kasr Sháraba, the history of which, as it is connected with the struggles of yore between the Tébu and the inhabitants of Fezzán, would be full of interest, if it could be made out distinctly. Towards noon the country wore a more genial aspect, being adorned with several groups of palm-trees. We had to go round a rather steep hill, about 350 feet high, from the summit of which I obtained an interesting view over the desert. The whole country presented a very irregular structure, and scarcely allowed the continuous line of the Wadi Berjúsh to be traced by the eye, hills of considerable height and black pebbly tracts succeeding each other. Over such a desert we continued our march until, late in the afternoon, we reached a spot where the sight of a true wadi, full of herbage and bordered by a strip of talha-trees, gladdened our hearts, and we encamped. It was a pleasant open ground; and the night being cool and refreshing, we felt very much invigorated when we rose the next morning to continue our march.

The talha-trees continued; but the herbage was principally limited to resú, an herb which has a very strong taste, and is not relished by camels for any length of time. The green strip took an irregular, winding course, sometimes approaching the sand-hills which we had always on our left at a certain distance, sometimes keeping more to our right; and Músa, our grave but cheerful camel-driver, dwelt in terms of the highest praise on the great superiority of this wadi, which he said is joined by as many as a hundred smaller branches. It evidently forms the natural highroad between Fezzán and the western desert, and about a month ago must have exhibited a more varied aspect, enlivened as it then was by a considerable torrent sweeping along it. In the afternoon we saw several spots where the eddying stream had formed itself a bed about five feet deep, and had turned up the ground all around; the crust of mire which covered the bed of the torrent had not yet dried. We encamped on a pleasant spot called Hamáwa, without pitching our tent, so delighted were we to enjoy the fresh air of the desert. Here we were joined by a man from Tasáwa, who wanted to seize a debtor, who had attached himself to Bóro’s party in order to make his escape into Sudán—a practice very common with the people of Fezzán.

By repeated measuring with our chain, we had found that, on tolerably even ground, our ordinary rate as the Tawárek travel was half an English geographical mile in thirteen minutes. It is the general custom of these people, who do not allow their camels to feed on the march, to leave them the whole night on the pasture, and not to fetch them till morning, for which reason they never start very early, and often at a rather late hour.

[Sidenote: Friday, June 28th.]

About an hour after we had begun our march along the line of green herbage, we came to a temporary well called Ahitsa[59], containing very fine rain-water, but only for a period of about two months in the year. Having filled two of our water-skins, we continued our march, and soon, to our great joy, got sight of two white tents belonging the one to Mohammed Bóro, the other to Mohammed e’ Sfaksi, and pointing out to us the encampment of the caravan. It had been pitched on open ground, in the midst of the strip of green herbage, and surrounded with a rich border of talha-trees. The place offered good pasture for the camels; and a small encampment of other Tinýlkum not belonging to our caravan, but merely pasturing their camels and goats here, had been formed near the trees. The whole presented an animated picture. Our camel-drivers are said to possess, in the sand-hills bordering this valley on the south side, considerable stores of dates and corn, and to have taken from thence their supplies for the road. The whole character of this landscape appeared to me so peculiar that, the following morning before we started, I made a sketch of it from the elevated stony ground to the north of the channel, which here exhibited evident traces of a small waterfall formed by the heavy rains. Stones had been laid here in the form of a circle, as a place of prayer. The whole valley was about four miles broad; the locality is called Tesémmak.

When we started next morning, we formed a tolerably large party, with sixty-two camels, which were arranged in four strings, one of which consisted of thirty-three animals, each fastened to the tail of the preceding one. The valley was enlivened by a small herd of gazelles, which Overweg and I tried for a moment to pursue. Having passed a well called Tafiyúk, at a place where the sand-hills jut out into the valley, we encamped about half an hour beyond, near another well containing rain-water for a short time of the year, and called Em-éneza. Two branches of the wadi unite here; and distinct traces of the great force of the last torrent remained in the broken condition of the ground.

Here we remained encamped for the two following days, in order to allow Mr. Richardson and the Azkár chiefs to come up. I spent the time sometimes writing and studying, at others roving about or musing while seated on some elevated rocks at the border of the rising ground. Musa was our constant visitor, and gave us all the information required, though he was not very intelligent. There had been some small differences between us and our camel-drivers, who, though in other respects not uncouth or uncivil, had, from religious principles, sometimes assumed a rather hostile position towards us. We now effected a general reconciliation; and there was every reason to believe that we should go on well with them.

[Sidenote: Tuesday, July 2nd.]

Being informed that our companions were near, we moved on a little, and at length got out of the eternal Wadi Aberjúsh, with all its little side-branches, which are divided from the main wadi by a gently-rising ground covered with black pebbles. Then after a little we reached the Wadi Eláwen, forming a broad depression running from the north, where it is joined by several branch channels descending from the plateau towards the sand-hills on the south, and encamped on its western side, between tall sebót shooting up from the sandy ground, and near some fine talha- trees. We soon discovered, to our great delight, that only two hundred paces above our encampment the floods, descending from the higher ground in two large branches, and carrying down with them bushes and brushwood in abundance, had formed a pond at present about 100 feet long and 50 feet broad, which contributed greatly to enliven the district. All the world was bathing and playing about the water; and flights of thirsty birds, of the kinds _Numida_ and _Pterocles_, were hovering about, watching a favourable moment to come in for their share. Everywhere in the bottom of the valley there was water at a little depth; and we obtained excellent potations from a well dug by our people close below our tents.

About five o’clock in the afternoon we were at length joined by Mr. Richardson and the chiefs of the Azkár; but the unsatisfactory way in which the business had been concluded with these chiefs in Murzuk, led to a break up sooner even than I had suspected. The next evening Hatíta summoned us to a divan, and declared distinctly that he required a month’s time to make the necessary preparations for the journey to Aïr. Hence it would be necessary for us to separate from the caravan, and, taking our luggage with us to Ghát, to hire or buy other camels there. In reply to this unjust and absurd demand, we declared that we had no other choice but to follow the direct Sudán road in the company of the caravan, and that it was our firm intention at any rate not to lose more than seven days in Ghát. Hatíta having left us rather dissatisfied at our decision, our servants, who would gladly have idled away one or two months in Ghát as they had done in Murzuk, insolently told us that we were very much mistaken in thinking that the road to Aïr was in any degree open to us, for it would first be necessary to send a courier to ask the permission of the chiefs of that country to enter it, and we must wait for the answer.

While remaining firm in our resolution, we of course consented to go to Ghát, and tried at the same time to come to some final arrangement with our camel-drivers, promising them a small allowance for every day they should wait for us. They at length promised to spend ten days on the way to Arikím, a well three days’ march south from Ghát, where they would wait six days, and then go on directly to Aïr. Attacking the old chief, therefore, on his weakest side, we sent him word the next morning, that, as we had but little money with us, he would not succeed in getting anything of value from us, if he should try to keep us in Ghát for any length of time; and I insisted, with Yusuf Mukni, upon the dishonesty of the chief’s conduct, in trying to make an entirely new bargain after he had got all he demanded. His answer was satisfactory; and with the fervent hope that we should not be baffled in our attempt to discover new regions and new tribes of men, we left the further development of the affair to time.

While these disputes were going on, I employed my leisure hours in roving about our encampment, in different directions, up and down the valley. The eastern of the two branches, which by their junction form the valley, was peculiarly rich in herbage, and commanded by a hill starting up from the plateau, which afforded a very interesting view around, though this was almost surpassed by the prospect from a mound a little to the W.S.W. of our tent. The lower part of the valley was more diversified by numerous branches, which joined it on the S.E. side. One of these, which was bordered by high ridges of sandstone, was evidently a favourite play-ground of the gazelles, the fresh footmarks of which chequered its sandy bottom like a net. Pursuing this direction, I approached the sand-hills which form the southern border of this whole district.

Fatigued by my long walk, I was the more able in the evening to do full justice to our supper, which was diversified by a variety of birds that had been shot in the course of the day near the pond.

[Footnote 57: This is evidently a Central African name, and appears to belong to the original black population of Fezzán. But it seems to stand in some sort of relationship to Asáwa, the name of one of the original seats of the Aurághen.]

[Footnote 58: From what Major Burton says in his “Pilgrimage,” vol. ii. p. 290., it would appear that Mohammed Ibn ʿAbdallah e’ Snúsi, which is his full name, is still living.]

[Footnote 59: The commencing vowel-sound “a” is generally inaudible, at least by a strange ear, if the word be not very distinctly spoken; but nevertheless it is characteristic of these Tawárek names.]

CHAP. IX.

SINGULAR SCULPTURES IN THE DESERT. — THE MOUNTAIN-PASS.

[Sidenote: June 5th.]

We had to separate from the Tinýlkum, and from our luggage, without having any certainty as to where and when we might overtake them. The chiefs of Ghát, too, had started in advance. The country had been rising all the way from Wadi Sháraba, which seems to form the lowest point in this whole region; and we ascended to-day very considerably. Pushing on in advance of our little troop, and passing a small caravan, which was laden with provisions and merchandise belonging to the pilgrim-caravan of the Tawáti, I soon came up with Hatíta and his companions. They were civil and kind; but the old friend of the English, who had an eye to a new marriage with some pretty Amóshagh girl some forty or fifty years younger than himself, gave me sundry expressive hints that I should spare him something of my outfit,—either a pair of pistols, or a carpet, or a bernús, or any other little article. My refusal in nowise rendered him uncivil. While he was riding by my side, I took the opportunity of making a slight sketch of him,—his English gun, the gift of some previous traveller, forming a striking contrast to his large shield of antelope-hide, ornamented with a cross. Having crossed another valley of some extent, we descended into Wadi Elghom-udé (the Valley of the Camel), which, richly clothed with herbage, forms an inlet in the stony plateau from north to south, and has a very cheerful aspect. The encampment, spread over a great extent of ground, formed quite an ethnographical museum, comprising as it did six distinct small caravan-troops from different parts of Africa, and even of Europe.

[Sidenote: Saturday, June 6th.]

A splendid morning, cool and fresh. We were happy to meet a small caravan coming from Sudán, which brought us some important pieces of news: first, that they had come to Ghát in the company of five men belonging to the family of Ánnur (the chief of the Kél-owí), who, after a short stay, would return to their country; and secondly, that the expedition of the Kél-owí had returned from Kánem, after having totally annihilated the Welád Slimán. They brought with them seventeen slaves, among whom were fifteen females, one with a very engaging countenance. After less than three miles’ march, our companions looked about in the Wadi Telísaghé for a camping-ground. The valley proved of more than ordinary interest. It was hemmed in by steep cliffs of rock, and adorned with some fine talha-trees. With no great reluctance we followed the Tawárek chiefs, who kept along its steep western border, and at length chose the camping-ground at a spot where a western branch joins the principal wadi. Scarcely had we pitched our tents, when we became aware that the valley contained some remarkable sculptures deserving our particular attention.

The spot where we had pitched our tents afforded a very favourable locality for commemorating any interesting events; and the sandstone blocks which studded it were covered with drawings representing various subjects, more or less in a state of preservation. With no pretensions to be regarded as finished sculptures, they are made with a firm and steady hand, well accustomed to such work, and, being cut to a great depth, bore a totally different character from what is generally met with in these tracts.

The most interesting sculpture represented the following subject, the description of which I am unfortunately able at present to accompany with only an imperfect woodcut, as the drawing which I made of it on the spot was forwarded by me to England to Mr. Birch, the celebrated Egyptian archæologist, and seems to have been mislaid.

M. & N. Hanhart, lith. et impt.

TELISAGHE.

July 7th. 1850.]

The sculpture represents a group of three individuals of the following character and arrangement:—

To the left is seen a tall human figure, with the head of a peculiar kind of bull, with long horns turned forward and broken at the point; instead of the right arm he has a peculiar organ terminating like an oar, while in the left hand he carries an arrow and a bow—at least such is the appearance, though it might be mistaken for a shield: between his legs a long tail is seen hanging down from his slender body. The posture of this figure is bent forward, and all its movements are well represented. Opposite to this curious individual is another one of not less remarkable character, but of smaller proportions, entirely human as far up as the shoulders, while the head is that of an animal which reminds us of the Egyptian ibis, without being identical with it. The small pointed head is furnished with three ears, or with a pair of ears and some other excrescence, and beyond with a sort of hood (which, more than any other particular, recalls the idea of Egyptian art), but it is not furrowed; over the fore part of the head is a round line representing some ornament, or perhaps the basilisc. This figure likewise has a bow in its right hand, but, as it would seem, no arrow, while the left hand is turned away from the body.

Between these two half-human figures, which are in a hostile attitude, is a bullock, small in proportion to the adjacent lineaments of the human figure, but chiselled with the same care and the same skilful hand, with the only exception that the feet are omitted, the legs terminating in points, a defect which I shall have occasion to notice also in another sculpture. There is another peculiarity about this figure, the upper part of the bull, by some accident, having been hollowed out, while in general all the inner part between the deeply- chiselled outlines of these sculptures is left in high relief. The animal is turned with its back towards the figure on the right, whose bow it seems about to break. The block on which it was sculptured was about four feet in breadth and three in height. It was lying loose on the top of the cliff.

No barbarian could have graven the lines with such astonishing firmness, and given to all the figures the light, natural shape which they exhibit. The Romans, who had firmly established their dominion as far as Garama, or Jerma, might easily have sent emissaries to this point and even further; but the sculptures have nothing in them of a Roman character. Some few particulars call to mind the Egyptian sculptures. But on the whole it seems to be a representation of a subject taken from the native mythology, executed by some one who had been in intimate relation with the more advanced people on the coast, perhaps with the Carthaginians. Be this as it may, it is scarcely doubtful that the subject represents two divinities disputing over a sacrifice, and that the figure at the left is intended for the victor.

On the cliff itself there is another sculpture on a large block which, now that the western end is broken off, is about twelve feet long and five feet high. The surface of the block is quite smooth, protected as it has been, in some degree, by the block above, which projects considerably; nevertheless the sculpture has suffered a good deal. It bears testimony to a state of life very different from that which we are accustomed to see now in these regions, and illustrates and confirms Saint Augustine’s[60] statement, that the ancient kings of this country made use of bulls for their conveyance. It represents a dense group of oxen in a great variety of positions, but all moving towards the right, where probably, on the end of the stone which is now broken off, the pond or well was represented from which the beasts were to be watered. Some of these bulls are admirably executed, and with a fidelity which can scarcely be accounted for, unless we suppose that the artist had before his eyes the animals which he chiselled. My sketch gives only a faint idea of the design, which is really beautiful. The only defect, as I have already remarked above, is in the feet, which, from some reason or other, have been negligently treated.

If we consider that the sculpture described is close to a watering-place on the high road to Central Africa, we are reduced to the conjecture, that at that time cattle were not only common in this region, but even that they were the common beasts of burden instead of the camel, which we here look for in vain. Not only has the camel no place among these sculptures, but even among the rude outlines which at a much later period have been made on the blocks around, representing buffaloes, ostriches, and another kind of birds, there are no camels; and it is a well-known fact that the camel was introduced into the western part of Northern Africa at a much later period.[61]

There was a similar group on another block of this interesting cliff, but too much effaced to allow the particulars to be distinguished; but the figure of an ass among the oxen was quite clear, as well as that of a horse, which was, however, ill-drawn. Not far off, Overweg found another sculptured stone representing, as the annexed sketch shows, an ox jumping through or falling into a ring or hoop, which I should suppose to have an allegorical meaning, or to represent a sacrifice, rather than, as Mr. Richardson thought, to represent any games of the circus. There was a circle regularly laid with large blocks of rock, at the south-western slope of the cliff: these, I should suspect, belong to the same period as the sculptures before mentioned.

To a later period belong innumerable inscriptions in Tefínagh, with which the cliffs on the other side of the valley and overhanging the waterpond are covered. These are mere scribblings, and are interesting merely as they serve to render evident, by contrast, the superior merit and age of the adjacent sculptures. It appeared to me remarkable, that on this side, where the water now principally collects, not a single drawing should be seen; and I formed the conclusion that in more ancient times the water collected on the other side.

The valley is formed by the junction of two branches coming from the north, of which the western is the more considerable, being joined by some smaller wadis. Just at the place of our encampment it changed its direction, and extended from W. to E., having run in its upper course from N.W. to S.E. After the junction, the valley runs from N. to S., and loses for a moment almost the character of a wadi, while running over pebbly ground; but it soon becomes once more well-bordered and adorned with fine groups of talha-trees, and in some places exhibits a river-bed eight feet deep, and still wet. Near a shepherd’s cave there was a very luxuriant tree, under whose shade I lay down. Towards evening the pilgrim-caravan of Haj ʿAbd el Káder, which had delayed so long in the wadi, arrived. The whole valley resounded with the cries of the men and their camels, who were all eagerly pressing towards the pond at the foot of the steep cliffs. Fortunately we had already laid in a supply of water; else we should not have been able to obtain any fit to drink.

[Sidenote: Sunday, July 7th.]

Owing to the camels having strayed to a great distance, we started at a late hour, still leaving the Tawárek chiefs behind, who wanted to settle some business with the Tawáti, and for this purpose had changed their dirty travelling-dress for showy caftans and bernúses. We ascended the higher level, and continued along it, crossing some small beds of watercourses overgrown with herbage, till, after a little more than four miles, we had to descend into a deep and wild ravine which led us to a vale. Having again ascended, we then came to the wide and regular valley called Erazar-n-Hágarné, bordered by steep cliffs from 150 to 200 feet high, and richly clothed with herbage. Following the windings of this large wadi, which evidently has received its name from the circumstance that the Hogár or Hágara pasture their camels chiefly hereabouts, we reached the point where it is joined by the valley called Áman sémmedné, and encamped near a fine talha-tree in order to allow Hatíta to come up. This valley has its name from the cold water which at times descends from the plateau in floods, of which the deeply-worn channel bears evident traces; it is joined at this place by an important branch-valley and several smaller ravines.

When the heat of the sun began to decline, I took a walk through the valley; and being attracted by a circle laid out very regularly with large slabs like the opening of a well, I began to ascend the steep cliffs opposite the mouth of the valley of Áman sémmedné, rising to a height of about 500 feet, and which, as I clearly saw, had been repeatedly ascended. The cliffs are here, as is usual in this formation, broken into regular strata; and steep flat blocks standing upright give them an imposing appearance. My search here, however, led only to the discovery of the well-chiselled form of a single bullock, in exactly the same style as that in Wadi Telísaghé, though it had suffered a little from its exposed situation; but the whole appearance of the locality shows that in former times it contained more of this kind. On the plain above the cliffs is another circle regularly laid out, and, like the many circles seen in Cyrenaica and in other parts of Northern Africa, evidently connected with the religious rites of the ancient inhabitants of these regions. Quartz pebbles were scattered about this part of the valley.

Our people meanwhile had been busy laying in provision of dry herbage for the next marches, during which we were told our camels would scarcely find anything to feed upon; and our Tawárek friends, when they at length arrived for their supper, did the same.

[Sidenote: Monday, July 8th.]

The caravan of the Tawáti having passed by our encampment at an early hour, we followed betimes, having an interesting day’s march before us. For the first three miles we still kept along the large valley, into which masses of sand had been driven down from the plateau by the strong east winds: further on it became dry and bare. To this succeeded an irregular knot of hollows and plains between the sides of the plateau, which in some places formed imposing promontories and detached buttresses, all on one and the same level. We then began to ascend along a sort of broad valley, which gradually assumed a regular shape, and bore the name of Tísi. The slope of the plateau was shaped into regular strata, the uppermost of which form steep precipices like the walls of a castle; the lower ones slope down more gradually. Here we discovered ahead of us, at the foot of the southern slope, the encampment of the pilgrim-caravan, who were resting during the heat of the day. We continued our march, always ascending, till a little after noon we reached the edge of the pass, a perfect watershed, of more than 2000 feet elevation, descending more gradually towards the east as far as the well of Sháraba, while towards the west it formed a steep precipice, passable only along a most interesting gully cut into it by the water towards the Valley of Ghát. The higher level, which rises above the pass about 300 feet, seems to be considerably depressed in this place, where it collects large floods of water, such as could alone cut the remarkably wild passage through the sandstone cliffs which we were about to descend: it is called Rálle.

The first part of it was more rough than wild, and the cliffs of the sandstone rather rugged and split than precipitous and grand; but after half an hour’s descent it bore evident traces of the waters that descend from the heights, and which being here collected into one mighty stream, with enormous power, force their way down through a narrow channel. The defile was here encompassed by rocky walls about a hundred feet high, half of which consisted of sandstone, while the other half was formed by a thick deposit of marl; and a little further down it was not more than six feet wide, and the floor and the walls were as smooth as if they had been cut by the hand of man; but the course of the defile was rather winding and not at all in a straight line, forming altogether a pass easily to be defended by a very small power, and affording the Tawárek a stronghold against any designs of conquest on the side of the Turks, although it does not form the frontier, but is regarded as entirely belonging to Fezzán. At the narrowest point Tawárek, as well as Arab travellers had recorded their names.

Where the channel began to widen, there were some curious narrow gaps or crevices on both sides, the one to the right, with its smooth rounded surface, bearing a great similarity to the famous Ear of Dionysius in Syracuse. The walls contained strata of chalk and ironstone; and Overweg found here some interesting petrifactions. The crevice to the left was less deep, and rather resembled a cell or chamber.

Having here waited some time for the boat to come up, we started together, but had still to get through two more narrow passes of the wadi, and at four o’clock in the afternoon entered another very narrow defile, the steep cliffs forming it being covered with inscriptions. At length, after a descent of altogether four hours, we emerged into the open plain some 600 feet below, and had a wide view of the high precipitous cliffs of the plateau, stretching out in several buttresses into the plain, which is interrupted only by detached hills. Amongst these was a rather remarkable one upon a terrace-like base, and opening with three caverns towards the roadside. Ascending the terrace, I found the westernmost of the caverns vaulted, as if by art, in the shape of a large niche, but it was a little filled with sand; I found, however, no inscriptions nor anything but four round holes, about nine inches in diameter, hollowed out in a slab on the terrace in front of the cavern. Beyond this hill, where Hatíta told us that he had once passed the heat of the day with ʿAbd Allah (Clapperton) and the tabíb (Oudney), the country is quite open towards the north. About sunset we encamped in the deep Erazar-n-Tése; there were a few talha-trees and some herbage.

The following day our route lay over the dreary plain, where nothing but the varied form of the rocky buttresses projecting from the plateau into the plain interrupted the monotony of the prospect. Near the slope the country seems a little less desolate; and the valley Támelelt, which extends between two of the promontories, has even a great reputation among the natives. In the afternoon we entered a sandy region, when we began to ascend gradually till we reached the summit of the sand-hills. We then continued on the higher level, where chalk protruded to the surface. After a long march we encamped on stony ground, covered only with a scanty growth of sebót.

On the 10th we descended a good deal from this higher ground. At first the descent was gradual; but beyond the valley In-kássewa, which running through high rocky ground is not so poor in herbage, we descended about two hundred feet by steep terraces, having before us the peculiarly serrated crest of the Akakús, and in front of it some lower offshoots covered with sand. The bottom of the plain was a broad and entirely naked level with hard calcareous soil, surrounded by irregular half- decayed hilly ridges. It forms the boundary between Fezzán and the country of the Hogár. The character of the country underwent no change till we reached the valley Telíga, where, at an early hour in the afternoon, we encamped near a group of talha-trees, not far from the well, and remained for the next two days at an elevation of 1435 feet.

The valley is very shallow, now and then interrupted by some sand-hills and adorned with some fine specimens of the ethel-tree, while broad strips of herbage cover the more favoured spots. It runs N.W., nearly parallel with the range of the Akakús, which remained at a distance of three miles. It joins the valley Ilághlaghén, which again unites with the Titábtarén; and this valley runs towards a favoured spot called Sérdales, which we were unfortunately prevented from visiting, as Hatíta thought we should be annoyed by the begging propensities of the people. Copious springs, from which the whole locality takes the name of el Awenát, irrigate and fertilize the soil, and support a village of about the same size as Tigger-odé, inhabited by about a hundred families, while in the gardens corn, melons, and ghédeb are produced in tolerable quantity. The water of the springs is said to be warm. We saw a party of Hágara from that place, who called on our friends; they were fine men and neatly dressed.

The water of our well was not very good; from being at first discoloured, it gradually acquired a taste like that of ink, and when boiled with tea became entirely black. Late in the evening our best and most steady servant, Mohammed from Gatrón, was wounded, but whether stung by a scorpion or bitten by a snake he knew not, and was much alarmed. We applied spirits of hartshorn to the wound; but he was very ill for the next twenty-four hours, and totally disabled, so that we were obliged to bind him on the camel during the next day’s march.

[Sidenote: Saturday, July 13th.]

There had been much talk for some days to the effect that we travellers, together with Hatíta, should take the nearer, but more difficult, road to Ghát across the range, while our luggage should go by the longer, but smoother, road round the mountains; but it was at length decided that we should all go by the longer road, and none but the Sfaksi, who was anxious to overtake the caravan as soon as possible, took the more difficult path, which, for geological observations, might have proved the more interesting. Going sometimes on pebbly, at others on sandy ground, after five miles we reached the shallow valley, Ilághlaghén, running from east to west, and handsomely overgrown with bushes; and after another stretch of about the same length, we entered the range of mountains, consisting of remarkably cragged and scarred rocks, with many narrow defiles. Altogether it presented a very curious spectacle.

When the rocks assumed a smoother appearance, we suddenly descended into a deep ravine, which, at the first glance, appeared to be of a volcanic nature; but, on closer inspection, all the black rocks composing these dismal-looking cliffs, proved to consist of sandstone, blackened by the influence of the atmosphere: further on it was disposed in regular strata very much like slate. The western and highest part of the range seems to consist of clay-slate. The valley changed its character in some degree after its junction with a side-valley called Tipérkum, which bears distinct marks of great floods occasionally descending along its channel from the mountains. Here we collected some firewood, as we were told that further on we should find none, and then entered a defile or glen with an ascent of about a hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. Beyond this the scene grew more open, and irregular plains, interrupted by steep buttresses, succeeded each other.

At half-past four o’clock in the afternoon we had gradually begun to change our direction from N.W. by W. to S. The valley was bordered by a deep chasm and craggy mountain to the right, and a range of grotesque promontories towards the left, the slope of which was broken into a variety of terraces, with several cones rising from them. At length turning round the edge of the mountain-range, we entered the broad valley of Tánesof, having before us the isolated and castellated crest of mount Ídinen, or Kasr Jenún, and on our left the long range of the Akakús, beautifully illuminated by the setting sun, and forming a sort of relief in various colours, the highest precipitous crest, with its castles and towers, being white, while the lower slope, which was more gradual and rugged, disclosed regular strata of red marl. Towards the west the valley, about five miles broad, was bordered by sand-hills, whence the sand was carried by the wind over its whole surface. We ourselves encamped at length on sandy soil without the least herbage, while at the distance of about two miles a strip of green was seen running along the valley.

Starting at an early hour the next day, we kept along the broad barren valley straight for the Enchanted Castle, which the fanciful reports of our companions had invested with great interest. Notwithstanding, or perhaps in consequence of, the warnings of the Tawárek not to risk our lives in so irreligious and perilous an undertaking as a visit to this dwelling of the demons, I made up my mind to visit it, convinced as I was that it was an ancient place of worship, and that it might probably contain some curious sculptures or inscriptions. Just at noon the naked bottom of the valley began to be covered with a little herbage, when, after another mile, beyond a depression in the ground which had evidently at one time formed a considerable waterpond, talha-trees and ethel-bushes broke the monotony of the landscape, while between the sand-hills on our right a broad strip of green was seen, coming from the westernmost corner of the Ídinen. Keeping still on for about five miles, we encamped in the midst of a shallow concavity of circular shape, surrounded by herbage, and near a large mound crowned by an ethel-tree. At some distance S.E. we had the well Táhala, the water of which proved very good.

As it was too late to visit the Ídinen to-day, I sat down in the shade of a fine talha, and made the subjoined sketch of it.

In the evening, we received a visit from two men belonging to a caravan laden with merchandise of Ghadamsíyin (people of Ghadámes), which was said to have come, by the direct road through the wadi, in thirty days from Tripoli.

[Sidenote: Monday, July 15th.]

This was a _dies ater_ for me. Overweg and I had determined to start early in the morning for the remarkable mountain; but we had not been able to obtain from the Tawárek a guide to conduct us from thence to the next well, whither the caravan was to proceed by the direct road. Hatíta and Utaeti having again resisted all our solicitations for a guide, I at length, determined as I was to visit the mountain at any cost, started off in the confidence of being able to make out the well in the direction indicated to me. By ill-luck, our provision of zummíta (a cool and refreshing paste on which we were accustomed to breakfast) was exhausted the day before, so that I was obliged to take with me dry biscuit and dates, the worst possible food in the desert when water is scarce.

But as yet I needed no stimulus, and vigorously pushed my way through the sand-hills, which afforded no very pleasant passage. I then entered a wide, bare, desolate-looking plain, covered with black pebbles, from which arose a few black mounds. Here I crossed the beginning of a _fiumara_ richly overgrown with herbage, which wound along through the sand-hills towards the large valley-plain. It was the abode of a beautiful pair of maraiya (_Antelope Soemmeringii_), which, probably anxious for their young ones, did not make off when roused by my approach, but stopped at a short distance, gazing at me and wagging their tails. Pursuing my way over the pebbly ground, which gradually rose till it was broken up by a considerable ravine descending from the western part of the mount, I disturbed another party of three antelopes, which were quietly lying down under the cover of some large blocks. At last I began to feel fatigued from walking over the sharp-pointed pebbles, as the distance proved to be greater than I had originally imagined; and I did not seem to have got much nearer to the foot of the Enchanted Mountain. In fact it proved that the crest of the mount formed a sort of horseshoe, so that its middle part, for which I had been steering all the time, in order to gain a depression which seemed to afford an easy ascent, was by far the remotest. I therefore changed my course and turned more eastward, but only met with more annoyance, for, ascending the slope which I hoped would soon convey me to the summit, I suddenly came to the steep precipice of a deep ravine, which separated me from the crest.

Being already fatigued, the disappointment, of course, depressed my spirits, and I had to summon all my resolution and energy in order to descend into the ravine and climb the other side. It was now past ten o’clock; the sun began to put forth its full power, and there was not the slightest shade around me. In a state of the utmost exhaustion I at length reached the narrow pinnacled crest, which was only a few feet broad, and exhibited neither inscriptions nor sculptures. I had a fine prospect towards the S.W. and N.E.; but I looked around in vain for any traces of our caravan. Though exposed to the full rays of the sun, I lay down on my high barbacan to seek repose; but my dry biscuit or a date was quite unpalatable, and being anxious about my little provision of water, I could only sip an insufficient draught from my small water- skin.

As the day advanced I got anxious lest our little band, thinking that I was already in advance, might continue their march in the afternoon, and, in spite of my weakness, determined to try to reach the encampment. I therefore descended the ravine, in order to follow its course, which, according to Hatíta’s indications, would lead me in the direction of the well. It was very hot; and being thirsty, I swallowed at once the little water that remained. This was about noon; and I soon found that the draught of mere water, taken upon an empty stomach, had not at all restored my strength.

At length I reached the bottom of the valley. Hatíta had always talked as if they were to encamp at no great distance from the mountain; yet, as far as I could strain my view, no living being was to be seen. At length I became puzzled as to my direction, and, hurrying on as fast as my failing strength would allow, I ascended a mound crowned with an ethel-bush, and fired my pistols; but I waited in vain for an answer: a strong east wind was blowing dead against me. Reflecting a moment on my situation, I then crossed the small sand-hills, and, ascending another mound, fired again. Convinced that there could be nobody in this direction, at least at a moderate distance, I bethought myself that our party might be still behind, and, very unluckily, I kept more directly eastward.

The valley was here very richly overgrown with sebót; and to my great delight I saw at a distance some small huts attached to branches of the ethel-tree, covered on the top with sebót, and open in front. With joy in my heart I hastened on towards them, but found them empty; and not a living being was to be seen, nor was there a drop of water to be got.

My strength being now exhausted, I sat down on the naked plain, with a full view before me of the whole breadth of the wadi, and with some confidence expected the caravan. I even thought, for a moment, that I beheld a string of camels passing in the distance. But it was an illusion; and when the sun was about to set, not being able to muster strength enough to walk a few paces without sitting down, I had only to choose for my night’s quarters between the deserted huts and an ethel- tree which I saw at a little distance. I chose the latter, as being on a more elevated spot, and therefore scrambled to the tree, which was of a respectable old age, with thick tall branches, but almost leafless. It was my intention to light a fire, which promised almost certain deliverance; but I could not muster sufficient strength to gather a little wood. I was broken down and in a feverish state.

Having lain down for an hour or two, after it became quite dark I arose from the ground, and, looking around me, descried to my great joy a large fire S.W. down the valley, and, hoping that it might be that of my companions, I fired a pistol, as the only means of communicating with them, and listened as the sound rolled along, feeling sure that it would reach their ears; but no answer was returned. All remained silent. Still I saw the flame rising towards the sky, and telling where deliverance was to be found, without my being able to avail myself of the signal. Having waited long in vain, I fired a second time—yet no answer. I lay down in resignation, committing my life to the care of the Merciful One; but it was in vain that I tried to sleep, and, restless and in a high fever, I tossed about on the ground, looking with anxiety and fear for the dawn of the next day.

At length the long night wore away, and dawn was drawing nigh. All was repose and silence; and I was sure I could not choose a better time for trying to inform my friends, by signal, of my whereabouts. I therefore collected all my strength, loaded my pistol with a heavy charge, and fired—once—twice. I thought the sound ought to awaken the dead from their tombs, so powerfully did it reverberate from the opposite range and roll along the wadi; yet no answer. I was at a loss to account for the great distance apparently separating me from my companions, who seemed not to have heard my firing.

The sun that I had half longed for, half looked forward to with terror, at last rose. My condition, as the heat went on increasing, became more dreadful; and I crawled around, changing every moment my position, in order to enjoy the little shade afforded by the leafless branches of the tree. About noon there was of course scarcely a spot of shade left—only enough for my head,—and I suffered greatly from the pangs of thirst, although I sucked a little of my blood till I became senseless, and fell into a sort of delirium, from which I only recovered when the sun went down behind the mountains. I then regained some consciousness, and crawled out of the shade of the tree, throwing a melancholy glance over the plain, when suddenly I heard the cry of a camel. It was the most delightful music I ever heard in my life; and raising myself a little from the ground, I saw a mounted Tarki passing at some distance from me, and looking eagerly around. He had found my footsteps in the sandy ground, and losing them again on the pebbles, was anxiously seeking traces of the direction I had taken. I opened my parched mouth, and crying, as loud as my faint strength allowed, “áman, áman” (water, water), I was rejoiced to get for answer “íwah! íwah!” and in a few moments he sat at my side, washing and sprinkling my head, while I broke out involuntarily into an uninterrupted strain of “el hamdu lilláhi! el hamdu lilláhi!”

Having thus first refreshed me, and then allowed me a draught which, however, I was not able to enjoy, my throat being so dry, and my fever still continuing, my deliverer, whose name was Musa, placed me upon his camel, mounted himself in front of me, and brought me to the tents. They were a good way off. The joy of meeting again, after I had been already despaired of, was great; and I had to express my sincere thanks to my companions, who had given themselves so much trouble to find me. But I could speak but little at first, and could scarcely eat anything for the next three days, after which I gradually recovered my strength. It is, indeed, very remarkable how quickly the strength of a European is broken in these climes, if for a single day he be prevented from taking his usual food. Nevertheless I was able to proceed the next day (the 17th), when we kept more towards the slope of the Akakús, and here passed a broad lateral valley, rich in herbage, called Ádar-n-jelkum, after which we descended about a hundred feet from the pebbly ground into sandy soil forming a sort of valley called Ighelfannís, and full of ethel-trees and sebót. In such a locality we encamped two hours after noon, near splendid ethel-trees; but the strong north-easterly wind, enveloping ourselves and baggage in thick clouds of sand, banished all enjoyment.

[Sidenote: Thursday, July 18th.]

We continued our march with the sure expectation of soon reaching Ghát[62], the second great station on our journey. The valley after some time became free from ethel-trees, and opened a view of the little town, situated at the north-western foot of a rocky eminence jutting out into the valley, and girt by sand-hills on the west. Its plantation extends in a long strip towards S.S.W., while another group, formed by the plantation and by the noble-looking mansion of Háj Ahmed, appears towards the west. Here we were joined by Mohammed Sheríf, a nephew of Háj Ahmed, in a showy dress, and well mounted on a horse; and we separated from Hatíta in order to take our way round the north side of the hill, so as to avoid exciting the curiosity and importunity of the townspeople. But a good many boys came out of the town, and exhibited quite an interesting scene as they recognized Yakúb (Mr. Richardson), who had visited this place on his former journey. Many people came out to see us, some offering us their welcome, others remaining indifferent spectators.

Thus we reached the new plantation of Háj Ahmed the governor, as he is called, of Ghát, and found, at the entrance of the out-building, which had been destined for our use, the principal men of the town, who received us with great kindness and politeness. The most interesting among them was Háj Ahmed himself, a man of grave and dignified manners, who, although a stranger to the place, and a native of Tawát, has succeeded, through his address and his mercantile prosperity, in obtaining for himself here an almost princely position, and has founded in reality a new town, with large and splendid improvements, by the side of the old city. His situation as governor of Ghát, in reference, and in some degree in opposition, to the Tawárek chiefs, is a very peculiar one, and requires, on his part, a good deal of address, patience, and forbearance. I am convinced that when we first arrived he did not view us with displeasure, but, on the contrary, was greatly pleased to receive under his roof a mission of Her Britannic Majesty’s Government, with whose immense influence and power, and the noble purpose of whose policy, he was not entirely unacquainted; but his extraordinary and precarious situation did not allow him to act freely, and besides I cannot say that he received from us so warm an acknowledgment as his conduct in the first instance seemed to deserve.

Besides him, the chief parties in our first conversation were his nephew Ahmed Mohammed Sheríf (the man who came to meet us), a clever but forward lad, of pleasant manners—whom in the course of my travels I met several times in Sudán,—and Mohammed Káfa, a cheerful good-humoured man.

Our quarters, of which the accompanying woodcut gives the ground-plan, were certainly neither airy nor agreeable; but the hot sand-wind which blew without made them appear to us quite tolerable.

[Footnote 60: Augustin. Op. vol. xvi. p. 526. ed. Bassan.:—“Garamantum regibus tauri placuerunt.”]

[Footnote 61: See my Wanderings along the Shore of the Mediterranean, vol. i. p. 5. ff.

It is, however, to be remarked, that even now, when the quantity of water all over the ancient world has certainly decreased a great deal, oxen are sometimes used on this Sudán road by way of Ghát soon after the rains. I have been assured that in 1847 or 1848 the well-known Tébu Haj Abérma travelled with oxen from Kanó as far as Ghát, about the time of the ʿAïd el kebír,—that is to say, in the month of December,—the oxen being watered every second day.]