pay, too much money for such a had woman. Now
she’s master’s slave ; she belong to master like a
dog ; if she not make plenty good bread, work
hard all day, early morning, late in night, master
take a big stick, break her head.”
This was the substance of a translation of my address
tinged with Mahomet’s colouring, as being
more adapted for the ears of a slave ! My wife was
present, and being much annoyed, we both assured
the woman that Mahomet was wrong, and I insisted
upon his explaining to her literally that “ no Englishman
could hold a slave ; that the money I had paid
rendered her entirely free ; that she would not even
be compelled to remain with us, but she could do
as she thought proper ; that both her mistress and I
should be exceedingly kind to her, and we would
subsequently find her a good situation in Cairo ; in
the mean time she would receive good clothes and
wages.” . This, Mahomet, much against his will, was
obliged to translate literally. The effect was magical ;
the woman, who had looked frightened and unhappy,
suddenly beamed with smiles, and without any warning
she ran towards me, and in an instant I found
myself embraced in her loving arms ; she pressed
me to her bosom, and smothered me with castor
oily kisses, while her greasy ringlets hung upon my
face and neck. How long this entertainment would
have lasted I cannot tell, but I was obliged to cry
“ Caffa ! Caffa!” (enough! enough!) as it looked improper,
and thé perfumery was too rich ; fortunately
my wife was present, but she did not appear to enjoy
it more than T did; my snow-white blouse was
soiled and greasy, and for the rest of the day I was
a disagreeable compound of smells, castor oil, tallow,
musk, sandal-wood, burnt shells, and Barrake.
Mahomet and Barrake herself, I believe, were the
only people who really enjoyed this little event.
“ H a! ” Mahomet exclaimed, “ this is your own
fault! You insisted upon speaking kindly, and telling
her that she is not a slave, now she thinks that she
is one of your wives! ” This was the real fact; the
unfortunate Barrake had deceived herself; never having
been free, she could not understand the use of
freedom unless she was to be a wife. She had understood
my little address as a I proposal, and of
course she was disappointed; but, as an action for
breach of promise cannot be pressed in the Soudan,
poor Barrake, although free, had not the happy
rights of a free-born Englishwoman, who can heal
her broken heart with a pecuniary plaster, and console
herself with damages for the loss of a lover.
We were ready to start, having our party of servants
complete, six Tokrooris—Moosa, Abdoolahi,
Abderachman, Hassan, Adow, and Hadji Ali, with
Mahomet, Wat Gamma, Bacheet, Mahomet secundus
(a groom), and Barrake; total, eleven men and the
cook.
When half Way to Wat el Negur, we found the
whole country in alarm, Mek Nimmur having suddenly
made a foray. He had crossed the Atbara,