for the sake of getting over them as quickly as possible; and as scarcely sufficient fuel was to be found to boil a little water, a mess of cold tumuta was usually our supper. On leaving Tingazeer, we had the blessing of a rainy day ; for such it was to all, but particularly to the poor negroes who accompanied the kafila, although Boo-Khaloom always gave them to drink from his skins once in the day (an unusual kindness), yet marching as they were for twelve and fourteen hours, once scarcely satisfied nature. In consequence of the rain, we found water fresh and pure during almost every day’s march, and arrived at Zeghren * with the loss of only one camel. On the last day, previous to arriving at the well, Omhul Abeed, a skeleton of a man, with some flesh still hanging about him, lay close to the road ; but it was passed by the whole kafila, with scarcely a remark. After these dreary wastes, it was no small pleasure to rest a day at Zeghren, the native town of a considerable merchant who accompanied our kafila. When we first left Sockna for Mourzuk, Abdi Zeleel had before taken me to his house, and presented me to his mother and sister; and he now insisted on my taking up my quarters there altogether. Almost the first person that presented herself was my friend the merchant’s sister, I had almost said the fair, Omhal Henna t. She had a wooden bowl of haleeb (fresh milk) in her h'and, the greatest rarity she could offer, and holding out the milk with some confusion towards me with both her hands, the hood which should have concealed her beautiful features had fallen back ; as my taking the milk from her would have prevented the amicable salutation we both seemed prepared for, and which consisted of four or five gentle pressures of the hand, with as many aish harleeks, and tiebs, and ham-dulillahs, she placed the bowl upon the ground, while the ceremonies of greeting, which take a much longer time in an African village than in an English drawing-room, were, by mutual consent, most cordially performed. I really could not help looking at her with astonishment, * The hills of Zeghren opened: a low range, running nearly east and west; their appearance different from any we had yet seen, long, oval, and truncated at the top—colour black, with white streaks. About the same time a detached rock came in view: it was about a hundred feet high, and 200 from the land from which we descended. This is the geological structure of the neighbouring land, which has at no very distant period been joined to this. W. O. f The mother of peace. and I heartily wish that I had the power of conveying an idea of her portrait. I t was the Jemma (Friday), the Sabbath, and she was covered, for I cannot call it dressed, with only a blue linen barracan, which passed under one arm, and was fastened on the top of the opposite shoulder with a silver pin, the remaining part thrown round the body behind, and brought over her head as a sort of hood, which, as I remarked, had fallen off, and my having taken her hand when she set down the milk had prevented its being replaced. This accident displayed her jet black hair in numberless plaits all round her expressive face and neck, and her large sparkling eyes and little mouth, filled with the whitest teeth imaginable. She had various figures burnt on her chin with gunpowder: her complexion was a deep brown ; and round her neck were eight or ten necklaces of coral and different coloured beads. So interesting a person I had not seen in the country ; and on my remaining some moments with my eyes fixed on her, she recommenced the salutation, “ How is your health,” &c. and smiling, asked, with great naivetd, “ whether I had not learnt, during the last two months, a little more Arabic.” I assured her I had. Looking round to see if any body heard her—and having brought the hood over her face— she said, “ I first heard of your coming last night, and desired the slave to mention it to my brother. I have always looked for your coming, and at night, because at night I have sometimes seen you : you were the first man whose hand I ever touched—but they all said it did not signify with you, an Insara (a Christian). God turn your h e a rt!—but my brother says you will never become Moslem—won’t you, to please Abdi Zeleel’s sister ? My mother says God would have never allowed you to come, but for your conversion.” By this time, again the hood had fallen back, and I again had taken her hand, when the unexpected appearance of Abdi Zeleel, accompanied by the governor of the town, who came to visit me, was a most unwelcome interruption. Omhal-henna quickly escaped; she had, however, overstepped the line, and I saw her no more. Besides our own people, and the followers of Boo-Khaloom, we had a number of liberated slaves who were returning to their homes. The bashaw had given freedom to twenty-four from the castle, sixteen of whom were females. Our friend, Mohammed D ’Ghies, had also liberated three young women, all under twenty, natives of Begharmi, the evening previous to our leaving Tripoli, telling them, in my presence, that his friends the English wishing to visit their
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