A.D. 1850.

I.

Dr. Heinrich Barth, a native of Hamburg, and lecturer at the University of Berlin upon geography, had already had some experience of African travel, when, in 1849, he learned that Mr. James Richardson had planned an expedition from London to Central Africa, with the view of opening up the Soudan to European commerce, and substituting for the cruel slave-trade the legitimate enterprise of working the natural riches of the country. Dr. Barth obtained permission to accompany it, and with another volunteer, also a German, named Overweg, he repaired to head-quarters. The expedition was authorized and supported by the British Government. It met, therefore, with no preliminary difficulties; and we may begin our summary of its adventures at Tripoli, whence it started for the south on the 24th of March, 1850. Entering the Fezzan, it crossed the rocky and elevated plateau known as the Hammada, and through fertile wadys, or valley-basins, separated by precipitous ridges and broad wastes of sand, made its way to Mourzouk, the capital, situated in a sandy plain, where agricultural labour is possible only under the shelter of the date-palms. The town has no rich merchants, and is not so much a commercial depÔt as a place of transit. For Dr. Barth and his companions it was, however, the first stage of their journey, and, indeed, their true point of departure. They made all haste, therefore, to leave it, and on the 13th of June entered upon their great undertaking. On the 25th, after an unavoidable delay, they quitted Tasua, crossed a considerable mass of sand-hills, and descended into a more agreeable district, where the heights were crowned by tamarisk trees, each height standing alone and isolated, like sentinels along the front of an army. This pleasant variety of scenery did not last long, however; they came again upon a soil as rocky as that of the Hammada, and met with an alternation of green valleys and sterile promontories, similar to that which they had explored before they reached Mourzouk.

They had reached the Wady Elaveu, a huge depression running north and south, when, at a distance of two hundred yards from their camp, they discovered a pond, forming a centre of life in that solitary region. Everybody hastened to enjoy a bath; a crowd of pintados and gangas hovered, with bright-coloured wings, above the laughing, frolicking company, waiting until they could take their places. While in this vicinity the travellers were disturbed by the conduct of some Towaregs, who had been engaged to conduct them to Selompih. Eventually, some slight change was made in the plans of the expedition, which, it was determined, should go on to Ghat, and remain there for six days; while the Towaregs, on their part, undertook to set out immediately afterwards for the Asben. Striking into the valley of Tanesof, they saw before them, revelling in the glow and gleam of the sunset, the Demons’ Mountain, or Mount Iniden; its perpendicular summit, adorned with towers and battlements, showed its white outlines vividly against a dark-blue sky. Westward, the horizon was bounded by a range of sand-hills, which the wind swept like a mighty besom, filling the air with sharp, gritty sand, and covering the entire surface of the valley.

On the following morning, their course carried them towards an enchanted mountain, which the wild legends of the natives have invested with picturesque interest. In spite of the warnings of the Towaregs, or perhaps because they had cautioned Dr. Barth not to risk his life in scaling that palace of the evil spirits, he resolved on attempting the sacrilegious enterprise. Unable to obtain guides, neither threats nor bribes prevailing over their superstitious terrors, he set out alone, in the belief that it had been formerly a place of religious worship, and that he should find there either sculptures or curious inscriptions. Unfortunately, he took with him no provisions but some biscuits and dates, and worse food cannot be imagined where there is a want of water. Crossing the sand-hills, he entered upon a bare and sterile plain, strewn with black pebbles, and studded with little mounds or hillocks of the same colour. Then he followed the bed of a torrent, its banks dotted with herbage, which offered an asylum to a couple of antelopes. Anxious for the safety of their young, the timid animals did not move at his approach. Affection inspired them with courage; they raised their heads boldly, and waved their tails. The enchanted palace seemed to recede as he advanced; finding himself in front of a dark deep ravine, he changed his course, only to find the passage barred by a precipice. Under the glare and glow of a burning sun he undauntedly pursued his way, and at last, spent with fatigue and exertion, reached the summit, which was only a few feet wide, and could boast neither of sculptures nor inscriptions.

From so lofty a watch-tower the prospect was necessarily extensive; but on surveying the plain below with anxious glance, Dr. Barth failed to detect any sign of the caravan. He was hungry and athirst; but his dates and biscuit were not eatable, and his supply of water was so limited that he durst not indulge himself with more than a mouthful. Feeble and spent as he was, to descend was imperative; he had no water left when he once more stood upon the plain. He dragged his weary limbs onward for some time, but at length was forced to own to himself that he did not know the direction he ought to take. He fired his pistol; but it elicited no reply. Wandering further and further from the route, he came upon a small grassy oasis, where some huts had been constructed of the branches of the tamarisk. With hopeful heart he hurried towards them; they were empty. Then in the distance he saw a long train of loaded camels ploughing their slow way through the sand; no, it was an illusion!—the illusion of fever. When night fell, he descried a fire gleaming redly against the darkened sky; it must be that of the caravan! Again he fired his pistol, and again there was no answer. Still the flame rose steadily towards heaven, and seemed to beckon him to a place where he should find rest and safety; but he was unable to profit by the signal. He fired again; no answering sound came forth from the silence of the mysterious night, and Dr. Barth, on his knees, entrusted his life to the Divine Mercy, and waited and watched for the dawn of day. The dawn came, as it comes to all God’s creatures, whether rich or poor, happy or wretched—comes with a blessing and a promise that are too often accepted without thought or emotion of gratitude; the dawn came, and still the calm of the desert remained unbroken. He loaded his pistol with a double charge, and the report, travelling from echo to echo, seemed loud enough to awaken the dead; it was heard by no human ear but his own. The sun, for whose beams he had prayed in the night-watches, rose in all its glory; the heat became intense; slowly the belated wayfarer crawled along the hot sand to seek the scanty shelter afforded by the leafless branches of the tamarisk. At noon there was scarcely shade enough to protect even his head, and in an agony of thirst, he opened a vein, drank a little of his own blood, and lost all consciousness. When he recovered his senses, the sun had set behind the mountain. He dragged himself a few paces from the tamarisk, and was examining the dreary level with sorrowful eyes, when he suddenly heard the voice of a camel. Never had he listened to music so delightful! For twenty-four hours had his sufferings been prolonged, and he was completely exhausted when rescued by one of the Towaregs of the caravan who had been sent in search of him.The caravan spent six days in the double oasis of Ghat and Barakat, where crops of green millet, taking the place of barley and rye, indicated the neighbourhood of NigritiÁ. The gardens were neatly fenced and carefully cultivated; turtle-doves and pigeons cooed among the branches; the clean, well-built houses were each provided with a terraced roof. Dr. Barth observed that the male inhabitants worked with industry and intelligence; as for the women, almost every one had a babe on her shoulders, and children swarmed by the wayside. As a whole, the population was far superior, physically and morally, to the mixed, hybrid race of the Fezzan.

They left the gracious and grateful oasis to plunge into the desert, a chaos of sandstone and granite rocks. On the 30th of July, they reached the junction-point of two ravines which formed a sort of “four-ways” among these confused masses. The wady which crossed their route was about sixty feet broad, but, at a short distance, narrowed suddenly into a defile between gigantic precipices upwards of a thousand feet in height—a defile which in the rainy season must be converted into a veritable cataract, to judge from an excavated basin at the mouth, which, when Dr. Barth and his companions passed, was full of fresh and limpid water. This “four-ways,” and these defiles, form the valley of AguÉri, long known to European geographers by the name of AmaÏs.

The unpleasant intelligence now arrived that a powerful chief, named Sidi-Jalef-Sakertaf, projected an expedition against their peaceful caravan. Fortunately, it was only a question of the tribute which, by right of might, the Towaregs levy from every caravan that crosses the desert. Sidi-Jalef-Sakertaf was pacified; and the enthusiasts went on their way through sterile valleys and frowning defiles that would have daunted the courage of any but a votary of science and adventure.

They next arrived at Mount Tiska, which is six hundred feet in height, and surrounded by numerous lesser cones. It forms a kind of geological landmark; for the soil, hitherto so broken and irregular, thenceforward becomes smooth and uniform, while rising gradually, and the vast plain stretches far beyond the limit of vision without anything to interrupt its arid monotony. A two days’ journey brought our travellers to the well of Afelesselez. It is utterly wanting in shade; only a few clumps of stunted tamarisks grow on the sandy hillocks; but, desolate as it is and uninviting, the caravans resort to it eagerly, on account of its supply of fresh water.

Sand; stones; little ridges of quartzose limestone; granite mixed with red sandstone or white; a few mimosas, at intervals of one or two days’ march; abrupt pinnacles breaking the dull level of the sandstones; dry and bushless valleys—such were the features of the country through which Dr. Barth and his companions wearily plodded. Herds of buffaloes, however, are numerous; as is also, in the higher ground, the Ovis tragelaphis.

On the 16th of August the travellers, while descending a rocky crest covered with gravel, came in sight of Mount Asben. The Asben or A’ir is an immense oasis, which has some claim to be considered the Switzerland of the Desert. The route pursued by Dr. Barth on his way to Agadez traversed its most picturesque portion, where, almost every moment, the great mountain revealed itself, with its winding gorges, its fertile basins, and its lofty peaks.

Agadez is built on a plain, where it seems to lament that the day of its prosperity has passed. At one time it was the centre of a considerable commerce; but, since the close of the last century, its population has sunk from sixty thousand to seven or eight thousand souls. Most of its houses lie in ruins; the score of habitations which compose the palace are themselves in a deplorably dilapidated condition; of the seventy mosques which it previously boasted only two remain. The richer merchants shun the market of Agadez, which is now in the possession of the Touats, and supported by small traders, who do a little business in the purchase of millet when the price is low.

The day after his arrival, Barth repaired to the palace, and found that the buildings reserved for the sovereign were in tolerably good repair. He was introduced into a hall, from twelve to fifteen yards square, with a low daÏs or platform, constructed of mats placed upon branches, which supported four massive columns of clay. Between one of these columns and the angle of the wall was seated Abd-el-Kadir, the Sultan, a vigorous and robust man of about fifty years old, whose grey robe and white scarf indicated that he did not belong to the race of the Towaregs. Though he had never heard of England, he received Dr. Barth very kindly, expressed his indignation at the treatment the caravans had undergone on the frontier of A’ir, and, by-and-by, sent him letters of recommendation to the governors of KanÓ, KatsÉna, and Daoura. Dr. Barth remained for two months at Agadez, and collected a number of interesting details respecting its inhabitants and their mode of life. Thus, he describes a visit which he paid to one of its more opulent female inhabitants. She lived in a spacious and commodious house. When he called upon her, she was attired in a robe of silk and cotton, and adorned with a great number of silver jewels. Twenty persons composed her household; including six children, entirely naked, their bracelets and collars of silver excepted, and six or seven slaves. Her husband lived at KatsÉna, and from time to time came to see her; but it appears that she scarcely awaited his visits with the loving expectancy of a Penelope. No rigid seclusion of women is insisted upon at Agadez. During the Sultan’s absence, five or six young females presented themselves at Dr. Barth’s house. Two of them were rather handsome, with black hair falling down their shoulders in thick plaits, quick lively eyes, dark complexion, and a toilette not wanting in elegance; but they were so importunate for presents, that Dr. Barth, to escape their incessant petitions, shut himself up.

Barth rejoined his companions in the valley of Tin-Teggana. On the 12th of December they resumed their march, crossing a mountainous region, intersected by fertile valleys, in which the Egyptian balanite and indigo flourished, and finally emerging on the plain which forms the transition between the rocky soil of the desert and the fertile region of the Soudan—a sandy plain, the home of the giraffe and the antelope leucoryx. By degrees it became pleasantly green with brushwood; then the travellers caught sight of bands of ostriches, of numerous burrows, especially in the neighbourhood of the ant-hills, and those of the Ethiopian orycteropus, which have a circumference of three yards to three yards and a half, and are constructed with considerable regularity.

The wood grew thicker, the ground more broken, the ant-hills more numerous. As the travellers descended an abrupt decline of about one hundred feet, they found the character of the vegetation entirely changed. Melons were abundant; the dilon, a kind of laurel, dominated in the woods; then appeared an euphorbia, a somewhat rare tree in this part of Africa, in the poisonous juice of which the natives steep their arrows; parasites were frequent, but as yet lacked strength and pith; in a pool some cows were cooling themselves in the shades of the mimosas that fringed its banks; the thick herbage flourishing along the track impeded the progress of the camels, and against the horizon were visible the fertile undulating meads of Damerghue. Continuing their journey, they came upon a scattered village, where, for the first time, they saw that kind of architecture which, with some unimportant modifications, prevails throughout Central Africa. Entirely constructed of the stems of the sorghum and the Asclepias gigas, the huts of NigritiÁ have nothing of the solidity of the houses of the A’ir, where the framework is formed of the branches and trunks of trees; but they are incontestably superior in prettiness and cleanliness. The traveller, in examining them, is impressed by their resemblance to the cabins of the aborigines of Latium, of which Vitruvius, amongst others, has furnished a description. More remarkable still are the millstones scattered round the huts; they consist of enormous panniers of reeds, placed on a scaffolding two feet from the ground, to protect them from the mice and termites.

On their arrival at Tagilet, the travellers separated. Mr. James Richardson undertook the road to Zindu, Overweg that to MarÁdi, and Barth to KanÓ. KÚkÁwa was named as the place, and about the 1st of April as the date, of their reassembling. Our business here is with Dr. Barth.

At TasÁwa he gained his first experience of a large town or village in Negroland proper; and it made a cheerful impression upon him, as manifesting everywhere the unmistakable marks of the comfortable, pleasant sort of life led by the natives. The courtyard, fenced with a hedge of tall reeds, excluded to a certain degree the gaze of the passer-by, without securing to the interior absolute secrecy. Then, near the entrance, were the cool and shady “runfÁ,” for the reception of travellers and the conduct of ordinary business; and the “gÍda,” partly consisting entirely of reed of the best wicker-work, partly built of clay in the lower parts, while the roof is constructed only of reeds,—but whatever the material employed, always warm and well adapted for domestic privacy; while the entire dwelling is shaded with spreading trees, and enlivened with groups of children, goats, fowls, pigeons, and, where a little wealth has been accumulated, a horse or a pack-ox.

Dr. Barth afterwards arrived at KatsÉna, a town of considerable size, with a population of eight thousand souls. It was formerly the residence of one of the richest and most celebrated princes in NigritiÁ, though he paid a tribute of a hundred slaves to the King of Bornu as a sign of allegiance.

For two centuries, from 1600 to 1800, KatsÉna appears to have been the principal town in this part of the Soudan. Its social condition, developed by contact with the Arabs, then reached its highest degree of civilization; the language, rich in form and pure in pronunciation, and the polished and refined manners of the inhabitants, distinguished it from the other towns of the HÁusa. But a complete and pitiful change took place when, in 1807, the Fulbi, raised to the highest pitch of fanaticism by the preaching of the reformer, OthmÁn dan FÓdiye, succeeded in gaining possession of the town. The principal foreign merchants then emigrated to KanÓ; the AsbenÁwa also transferred their salt-market thither; and KatsÉna, notwithstanding its excellent position and greater salubrity, is now but of secondary importance as the seat of a governor. Mohammed Bello, who held that post at the time of Barth’s visit, either through capriciousness or suspicion, was very desirous of sending him on to Sokoto, the residence of the Emir. At first he employed persuasion, and when that failed, resorted to force, detaining Barth a prisoner for five days. However, the energy and perseverance of the traveller overcame every difficulty; and, having obtained his freedom, he directed his steps towards the celebrated commercial entrepÔt of the Central Soudan.

KanÓ, as he says, was an important station for him, not only from a scientific, but a financial point of view. After the extortions of the Towaregs, and his long delay in A’ir, he was entirely dependent upon the merchandise which had been forwarded thither in advance. On his arrival, he had to liquidate a debt which had risen to the large amount of 113,200 kurdi; and he was much disheartened by the low value set upon the wares which were his sole resource. Lodged in dark and uncomfortable quarters, destitute of money, beset by his numerous creditors, and treated with insolence by his servant, his position in the far-famed African city, which had so long occupied his thoughts and excited his imagination, was the reverse of agreeable. Anxiety acted upon his physical health, and a severe attack of fever reduced him to a state of great weakness. Yet the gloomy colours in which he naturally paints his own condition do not extend to his description of KanÓ. That is bright, vivid, and graphic.

The whole scenery of the town—with its great variety of clay houses, huts, and sheds; its patches of green pasture for oxen, horses, camels, donkeys, and goats; its deep hollows containing ponds overgrown with water-plants; its noble trees, the symmetric gÓnda or papaya, the slender date-palm, the spreading allÉluba, and the majestic bombyx, or silk-cotton tree; the inhabitants, gay in diversified costumes, from the half-naked slave to the most elaborately dressed Arab—forms an animated picture of a world complete in itself; a strange contrast to European towns in external form, and yet, after all, in social inequalities, in the difference of happiness and comfort, activity and laziness, luxury and poverty, exactly similar.

Here a row of shops is filled with articles of native and foreign produce, with noisy buyers and sellers in every variety of figure, complexion, and dress, yet all intent upon gain, and endeavouring to get the advantage of each other; there, a large shed, like a hurdle, full of half-naked, half-starved slaves, torn from their quiet homes, from their wives, husbands, parents, arranged in rows like cattle, and staring with hopeless eyes upon the purchasers, wondering, perhaps, into whose hands it would be their lot to fall. How dark to them the mystery of life! In another part may be seen all that can minister to human ease and comfort, and the wealthy buying dainties and delicacies for his table, while the poor man eyes wistfully a handful of grain. Here a rich governor, dressed in silk and gaudy clothes, mounted upon a spirited and richly caparisoned horse, is followed by a troop of idle, insolent menials; there, a blind pauper gropes his way through the restless, excited multitude, and fears at every step to be trodden underfoot. Observe yonder a yard neatly fenced with mats of reed, and provided with all the comforts which the country affords; a clean, neat-looking cottage, with nicely polished clay walls, a shutter of reeds placed against the low, well-rounded door, to forbid abrupt intrusion on the privacy of domestic life; a cool shed for the daily household work; a fine spreading allÉluba tree, affording a pleasant shade in the noontide hours, or a stately gÓnda or papaya lifting its crown of feather-like leaves on a slender, smooth, and undivided stem, or the tall and useful date-tree, adding its charm to the fair scene of domestic peace and comfort,—the matron, in a clean black cotton gown wound round her waist, and with her hair trimly dressed, busily preparing the meal for her absent husband, or spinning cotton, and at the same time urging the female slaves to pound the corn; the children, naked and merry, playing about in the sand, or chasing a straggling, stubborn goat; earthenware pots and wooden bowls, cleanly washed, all standing in order. Our survey also includes a “mÁcinÁ”—an open terrace of clay, with a number of dyeing-pans, and people actively employed in various processes of their handicraft: one man stirring the juice, and mixing some colouring wood with the indigo in order to secure the desired tint; another drawing a shirt from the dye-pot, or suspending it to a rope fastened to the trees; and a couple of men busily beating a well-dyed shirt, and singing the while in good time and tune. Further on, a blacksmith with rude tools that an European would disdain, is fashioning a dagger, the sharpness of which will surprise you, or a formidable barbed spear, or some implement of husbandry; beyond, men and women turn an unfrequented thoroughfare to account by hanging up, along the fences, their cotton thread for weaving; and, lastly, close at hand, a group of loiterers idle away the sunny hours.

Ever and anon comes upon the scene a caravan from GÓnja, with the much-prized kola-nut, chewed by all who can spare as much or as little as “ten kurdi;” or a caravan passes, laden with natron, bound for NÚpa; or a troop of AsbenÁwa, going off with their salt for the neighbouring towns; or some Arabs lead their camels, heavily charged with the luxuries of the north and east, to the quarters of the opulent; or a troop of gaudy, warlike-looking horsemen dash towards the palace of the governor with news from some distant province. Everywhere you see human life in its varied forms, the brightest and the most gloomy closely mixed together, as in life itself happiness and sorrow are never divided; every variety of national form and complexion—the olive-coloured Arab; the dark Kanuri, with his wide nostrils; the small-featured, light, and slender Ba-Fillanchi; the broad-faced Ba-WÁngara; the stout, large-boned, and masculine-looking NÚpa female; the well-proportioned and comely Ba-HaÚshe woman.

The regular population of KanÓ numbers about 30,000 souls, but is raised to 60,000, from January to April, by the influx of strangers. Its trade principally consists of cotton stuffs sold under the form of tebi, a kind of blouse; tenkÉdi, the long scarf or dark blue drapery worn by the women; the zunie, a kind of plaid, very bright in colour; and the black turban, worn by the Towaregs. At KanÓ are concentrated also the products of northern, eastern, and western Africa, flowing thither through the channels of Mourzouk, Ghat, Tripoli, TimbÚktu, and the whole of BornÚ.

Early in March the intrepid traveller resumed his journey, across an open and pleasant country. At Zurrikulo he entered BornÚ proper. The beautiful fan-palm was here the prevailing tree; but as Barth advanced, he met with the kuka, or Adansonia digitata, and the landscape brightened with leafiness, and soon he entered upon a pleasant tract of dense green underwood. “The sky was clear,” he says, “and I was leaning carelessly upon my little nag, musing on the original homes of all the plants which now adorn different countries, when I saw advancing towards us a strange-looking person, of very fair complexion, richly dressed and armed, and accompanied by three men on horseback, likewise armed with musket and pistols. Seeing that he was a person of consequence, I rode quickly up to him and saluted him, when he, measuring me with his eyes, halted and asked me whether I was the Christian who was expected to arrive from KanÓ; and on my answering him in the affirmative, he told me distinctly that my fellow-traveller, YakÚb (Mr. Richardson), had died before reaching KÚkÁwa, and that all his property had been seized. This sad intelligence deeply affected me; and, in the first moment of excitement, I resolved to leave my two young men behind with the camels, and to hurry on alone on horseback. But as I could not reach KÚkÁwa in less than four days, and as part of the road was greatly infested by the TawÁrek (or Towaregs), such an attempt might have exposed me to a great deal of inconvenience. Therefore, we determined to go on as fast as the camels would allow us.”

Four days later, and Dr. Barth saw before him the wall of white clay which surrounds the capital of BornÚ. He entered the gate, and of some people assembled there inquired the way to the sheikh’s residence. Passing the little market-place, and following the dendal, or promenade, he rode straight up to the palace which flanks the palace on the east. The sheikh received him cordially, and provided him with quarters closely adjoining the vizier’s house; these consisted of two immense courtyards, the more secluded of which enclosed, besides a half-finished clay dwelling, a spacious and neatly built hut, which, he ascertained, had been specially prepared for the reception and accommodation of the English mission. It taxed all Dr. Barth’s energy and perseverance to obtain the restoration of Mr. Richardson’s property; but he finally succeeded. He also obtained a loan of money on the credit of the British Government, which enabled him to satisfy his creditors, pay Mr. Richardson’s servants, and provide for the prosecution of the labours which had been so unhappily interrupted.

The capital of BornÚ consists of two towns, each surrounded by a wall: one, inhabited by the rich, is well built, and contains some very large residences; the other is a labyrinth of narrow streets of small and squalid houses. Between the two towns spreads an area of about eight hundred yards each way, which, throughout its length, is traversed by a great highway, serving as a channel of intercommunication. This area is largely peopled; and a picturesque aspect it presents, with its spacious mansions and thatched huts, its solid walls of mud and its fences of reeds, varying in colour, according to their age, from the brightest yellow to the deepest black.

In the surrounding district are numerous little villages, hamlets, and isolated farms, all walled. Every Monday a fair is held between two of these villages, lying beyond the western gate; to which the inhabitant of the province brings, on the back of his camel or his ox, his store of butter and corn, with his wife perched upon the top of the burden; and the YÉdinÁ, that pirate of Lake Tchad, who attracts our admiration by the delicacy of his features and the suppleness of his figure, his dried fish, flesh of hippopotamus, and whips made of the animal’s leathery hide. Provisions are abundant; but to lay in at one time a week’s supply is a wearisome and troublesome task, and a task all the more wearisome and burdensome, because there is no standard money for buying and selling. The ancient standard of the country, the pound of copper, has fallen into disuse; and the currency partly consists of “gÁbagÁ,” or cotton-strips, and “kungÓna,” or cowries. A small farmer, who brings his corn to the market, will refuse cowries, however, and will rarely accept of a dollar. The would-be purchaser, therefore, must first exchange a dollar for cowries; then, with the cowries, must buy a “kÚlgu,” or shirt; and in this way will be able at last to obtain the required quantity of corn.

Provisions are not only abundant, but cheap, and the variety is considerable. For corn,—wheat, rice, and millet; for fruits,—ground-nuts, the bito, or fruit of the Balanites Ægyptiaca, a kind of physalis, the African plum, the Rhamnus lotus, and the dÚm-palm; for vegetables—beans and onions, and the young leaves of the monkey-bread tree.

Dr. Barth had spent three weeks at KÚkÁwa, when, on the evening of the 14th of April, the Sheikh Omar and his vizier departed on a short visit to Ngornu, and at their invitation he followed next morning. The road thither was marked with the monotony which distinguishes the neighbourhood of the capital. At first, nothing is seen but the Asclepias gigas; then some low bushes of cucifera; and gradually trees begin to enliven the landscape. The path is broad and well trodden, but generally consists of a deep sandy soil. There are no villages along the road, but several at a little distance. Two miles and a half from Ngornu the trees cease, giving way to an immense fertile plain where cereals are cultivated as well as beans.

At Ngornu, the town of “the blessing,” our traveller arrived about an hour after noon. The heat being very great, the streets were almost deserted; but the houses, or rather yards, were crowded, tents having been pitched for the accommodation of the visitors. Except the sheikh’s residence, scarcely a clay house was to be seen; yet the town gave a general impression of comfort and prosperity, and every yard was fenced with new “sÉggadÉ” mats, and well shaded by leafy koma-trees, while the huts were large and spacious.

Early next morning the indefatigable traveller started forth on horseback to refresh himself with a view of Lake Tchad, which he supposed to be at no great distance, and of which he indulged the brightest visions. But no shining expanse of fair waters greeted his eye; wherever he directed his gaze, he saw only an endless grassy, treeless plain, stretching to the farthest horizon. At length, riding through grass of constantly increasing freshness and luxuriance, he reached a shallow swamp, the irregular and deeply indented margin of which greatly impeded his progress. After struggling for some time to get clear of it, and vainly straining his eyes to discover a shimmer of water in the distance, he retraced his steps. Mentioning on his return the ill success he had met with, the vizier undertook to send some horsemen to conduct him along the shore as far as KÁwa, whence he could cross the country to KÚkÁwa.

When the time came, however, the vizier’s promise was represented by two horsemen only. With them Dr. Barth started on his excursion, taking a north-east direction. The broad grassy plain seemed to roll away to an immeasurable distance, unrelieved by tree or shrub; not a living creature was visible, and the hot rays of the sun fell all around like burning arrows. After about half an hour’s ride, he reached swampy ground, through which he and his companions forced their horses, often up to the saddle. Thus they arrived on the margin of a fine open sheet of water, fringed thickly with papyrus and tall reed, from ten to fourteen feet high, among which wound and interwound the garlands of a yellow-flowered climbing plant, called “boibuje.” Turning to the north, and still pushing onward through deep water and grass, he made a small creek called DÍmbebÚ, and caught sight of a couple of small flat boats, each about twelve feet long, and manned by a couple of men, who, on descrying the stranger, pulled off from the shore. They were BÚdduma, or YÉdinÁ, the pirates of the Tchad, in search of human prey; and Dr. Barth hastened to warn of their presence some villagers who had come to cut reeds for the roofs of their huts, and evidently had not caught sight of their enemies. He then continued his march. The sun’s heat was intense, but a fresh cooling breeze blowing from the lagoon rendered it endurable. Large herds of kelÁra, a peculiar kind of antelope, started up as he advanced, bounding swiftly over the rushes, and sometimes swimming on the silent waters. They are like the roe in shape and size, with their under parts white as snow. At another creek, which the lake pirates sometimes use as a harbour, river-horses abounded, and the air echoed with their snorting. This was the easternmost period of Dr. Barth’s ride; turning then a little west from north, he and his escort marched over drier pasture-grounds, and, in about three miles, struck a deeply indented and well-sheltered creek, called NgÓmaÍen. Here the curiosity of the traveller was rewarded by the sight of eleven boats of the YÉdinÁ. Each was about twenty feet long, tolerably broad, with a low waist, and a high pointed prow. They are made of the narrow planks of the fÓgo-tree, fastened together with ropes from the dÚm-palm, the holes being stopped with bast.

Another ride, and Dr. Barth turned westward—a course which brought him to MaduwÁri, a pleasant village, lying in the shade of trees, where he resolved on halting for the night. From its inhabitants, who belong to the tribe of the SagÁrti, he obtained much information respecting the numerous islands that stud the surface of the lake. They also told him that the open water begun one day’s voyage from KÁya, the small harbour of MaduwÁri, and is from one to two fathoms deep. It stretches from the mouth of the ShÁry towards the western shore; all the rest of the lake consisting of swampy meadow-lands, occasionally inundated. Next morning, on resuming his journey, he was charmed by the bright and gracious picture before him. Clear and unbroken were the lines of the horizon, the swampy plain extending on the right towards the lake, and blending with it, so as to allow the mind that delights in wandering over distant regions a boundless expanse to rove in—an enjoyment not to be found in mountainous regions, be the mountains ever so distant. Thus they travelled slowly northwards, while the sun rose over the patches of water which brightened the grassy plain; and on their left the village displayed its snug yards and huts, neatly fenced and shaded by spreading trees. At DÓgoji he came upon a hamlet or station of cattle-breeders, where a thousand head were collected; the herdsmen being stationed on guard around them, armed with long spears and light shields. Equidistant poles were fixed in the ground, on which the butter was hung up in skins or in vessels made of grass.

Turning to the eastward, Dr. Barth reached the creek “KÓgorani,” surrounded by a belt of dense reeds, and was there joined by a KÁnemma chief, named Zaitchua, with five horsemen. The party rode on towards BolÈ, passing through very deep water, and obtained a view of the widest part of the lake they had yet seen. A fine open sheet of water, agitated by a light easterly wind, rippled in sparkling waves upon the shore. A reedy forest spread all around, while the surface was bright with aquatic plants, chiefly the beautiful water-lily, or Nymphoea lotus. Flocks of waterfowl of every description played about. At length they reached KÁwa, a large straggling village, lying among magnificent trees, where Dr. Barth’s’ excursion terminated; thence he returned to KÚkÁwa.

On the 7th of May he was joined there by Mr. Overweg, and the two travellers immediately made their preparations for resuming the work of exploration with which they had been charged by the British Government. These were completed by the 29th of May (1851), and the two travellers then set out for the southward, accompanied by an officer of the sheikh, and attended by a small company of servants and warriors. A singular variety of country greeted them as they moved forward: at first it was low and swampy; then came a bare and arid soil, planted with scattered tamarisks; next, a dense forest, partly inundated in the rainy season, and, afterwards, a broad and fertile plain, sprinkled with villages, and white with thriving crops of cotton. This was the district of Uji, which comprises several places of a considerable size. Thence they entered upon a fine open country, a continuous corn-field, interrupted only by pleasant villages, and shaded here and there by single monkey-bread trees, or Adansonias, and various kinds of fig-trees, with their succulent dark-green foliage, or large fleshy leaves of emerald green. A fiumara, or water-course, which rises near AlÁwÓ, traverses the plain with numerous curves and bends, and passing DekÙa, falls into the Tchad. The travellers crossed it twice before they reached Mabani, a large and prosperous town, with a population of nine or ten thousand souls, which covers the sides and summit of a hill of sand. From this point their road lay through fertile fields, where they were greeted by the sight of the first corn-crop of the season, its fresh and vivid green sparkling daintily in the sunshine. Having crossed and recrossed the fiumara, they ascended its steep left bank, which in some places exhibited regular strata of sandstone. Here they passed a little dyeing-yard of two or three pots, while several patches of indigo flourished at the foot of the bank, and a bustling group of men and cattle were gathered round the well. Villages were seen lying about in every direction; and single cottages, scattered about here and there, gave evidence of a sense of security. The corn-fields were most agreeably broken by tracts covered with bushes of the wild gÓnda, which has a most delicious fruit, of a fine creamy flavour, and of the size of a peach, but with a much larger stone.

Mount DÉlabida marked the border line of a mountainous region. After entering upon the district of Shamo, Barth observed that millet became rare, and that the sorghum was generally cultivated. Here he and his party were joined by some native traders; for robbers haunted the neighbourhood, and safety was to be found in numbers. At every step they came upon evidences of the misfortunes which had swept and scathed the country: traces of ancient cultivation and ruined huts; and thick interwoven jungles, where the grass grew so high as to hide both horse and rider. After three hours’ march through this land of desolation, they arrived at what had once been a considerable village, but was then inhabited only by a few natives, recently converted to the religion of the Crescent. As but a single hut could be found for the accommodation of the whole company, Dr. Barth preferred to encamp in the open air. But he had scarcely laid down to rest, when a terrible storm arose, sweeping his tent to the ground, and flooding his baggage with torrents of rain. To such adventures is the daring traveller exposed!

Though they had embraced Islam, the natives wore no other clothing than a strip of leather passed between the legs, and even this seemed by some of them to be considered a superfluity. The observer could not fail to remark their harmonious proportions, their regular features, undisfigured by tattooing, and, in not a few cases, presenting no resemblance to the negro type. The difference of complexion noticeable in individuals presumably of the same race, was remarkable. With some it was a brilliant black; with others a rhubarb colour, and there was no example of an intermediate tint; the black, however, predominated. A young woman and her son, aged eight years, formed a group “quite antique,” and worthy of the chisel of a great artist. The child, especially, in no respect yielded to the ancient Discophorus; his hair was short and curled, but not woolly; his complexion, like that of his mother and the whole family, was of a pale or yellowish red.

Re-entering the forest, Dr. Barth observed that the clearings bore the imprints of the feet of elephants of all ages. A wealth of flowers loaded the atmosphere with fragrant incense. But the soil soon deteriorated; the trees were nearly all mimosas, and nearly all of indifferent growth, with here and there a large leafless Adansonia flinging abroad, as if in despair, its gaunt gigantic arms; while the herbage consisted only of single tufts of coarse grass, four or five feet high. When things are at their worst they begin to mend; and for the traveller there is no motto more applicable than the old proverb, that it is a long lane which has no turning. With intense delight Dr. Barth and his companions saw the monotonously gloomy forest giving way to scattered clusters of large and graceful trees, such as generally indicate the neighbourhood of human labour. And they soon emerged upon bright green meadow-lands extending to the base of the Wandala mountain-range, which rose like a barrier of cloud upon the horizon, from north to south. The highest elevation of this range is about 3000 feet; its average elevation does not exceed 2500 feet. Behind it, to a point of 5000 feet above the sea, rises the conical mass of Mount Mendefi, first seen by gallant Major Denham. The country now gradually assumed a wilder aspect; rocks of sandstone and granite projected on all sides, while, in front, a little rocky ridge, densely crowded with bush and tree, seemed to form a ne plus ultra. Suddenly, however, a deep recess opened in it, and a village was seen, lying most picturesquely in the heart of the rocks and woods. This was LahÁula, where the travellers rested for the night. Next day they reached Uba, on the border of A’damÁwa; A’damÁwa, described by Dr. Barth as “a Mohammedan kingdom engrafted upon a mixed stock of pagan tribes—the conquest of the valorous and fanatic PÁllo chieftain, A’dÁma, over the great pagan kingdom of FÚmbinÁ.”

Here the camels greatly excited the curiosity of the population; for they are rarely seen in A’damÁwa, the climate of which these animals are unable to endure for any length of time. Still more vivid was the curiosity of the governor and his courtiers, when they saw Dr. Barth’s compass, chronometer, telescope, and the small print of his Prayer-Book. The Fulbi, he says, are intelligent and civilized, but prone to malice; they lack the good nature of the real blacks, from whom they differ more in their character than their colour.

At Bagma our travellers were struck by the size and shape of the huts, some of them being from forty to sixty feet long, about fifteen broad, and from ten to twelve feet high. They narrowed above to a ridge, and were thatched all over, no distinction being made between roof and wall. They are so spaciously constructed, in order to provide a shelter for the cattle against the inclemency of the weather. The river separates the village, which is inhabited entirely by Mohammedans, into two quarters. “The news of a marvellous novelty soon stirred up the whole place, and young and old, male and female, all gathered round our motley troop, and thronged about us in innocent mirth, and as we proceeded the people came running from the distant fields to see the wonder; but the wonder was not myself, but the camel, an animal which many of them had never seen, fifteen years having elapsed since one had passed along this road. The chorus of shrill voices, ‘GelÓba, gelÓba!’ was led by two young wanton PÚllo girls, slender as antelopes, and wearing nothing but a light apron of striped cotton round their loins, who, jumping about and laughing at the stupidity of these enormous animals, accompanied us for about two miles along the fertile plain. We passed a herd of about three hundred cattle. Gradually the country became covered with forest, with the exception of patches of cultivated ground.” Through scenery of this interesting character, the travellers pushed on to Mbtudi.

Next day their route laid through well-wooded and well-watered pastures, and immense fields of millet and ground-nuts, which here form as large a proportion of the food of the people as potatoes do in Europe. Dr. Barth liked them very much, especially if roasted, for nibbling after supper, or even as a substitute for breakfast on the road. From Segero the travellers proceeded to Sara’wu, and thence to BÉhur. Forest and cultivated land alternated with one another to the margin of a little lake, lying in a belt of tall thick grass, where the unwieldy river-horse snorted loud. The sky was dark with clouds, and a storm was gathering, when the caravan entered the narrow streets of SallÉri. That night it obtained but scanty accommodation, and everybody was glad to find the next morning bright and cheerful, so that the march could be resumed. Their course was directed towards the river BÉnuwÉ. The neighbourhood of the water was first indicated by numerous high ant-hills, which, arranged in almost parallel lines, presented a sufficiently curious spectacle. To the north-west towered the insulated colossal mass of Mount Atlantika, forming a conspicuous and majestic object in the landscape. The savannas were now overgrown with tall rank grass, and broken by many considerable pools, lying in deep hollows; every year, in the rainy season, they are under water. Crossing these low levels with some difficulty, Dr. Barth arrived on the banks of the BÉnuwÉ. A broad and noble stream, it flowed from east to west through an entirely open country. The banks were twenty to thirty feet high; while, immediately opposite to the traveller’s station, behind a pointed headland of sand, the river FÁro, which has its source on the eastern side of Mount Atlantika, came in with a bold sweep from the south-east, and poured its tributary waters into the BÉnuwÉ. The BÉnuwÉ, below the point of junction, bends slightly to the north, runs along the northern foot of Mount BÁgelÉ, thence traverses the mountainous region of the BÁchama and Zina to HamÁrruwa and the industrious country of KorÓrofa, until it joins the great western river of the KwÁra, or Niger.

The passage of the BÉnuwÉ, which is here about eight hundred yards wide, was safely accomplished in the native canoes, nor did any mishap occur in the transit of the FÁro, which measures about six hundred yards. The current of the FÁro has a velocity of about five miles an hour; that of the BÉnuwÉ does not exceed three miles and a half. By way of Mount BÁgelÉ, and through the rich low lands of RibÁgo, the travellers repaired to Yola, the capital of A’damÁwa.

II.

Yola, the capital of A’damÁwa, lies four degrees to the south of Kuka, on the FÁro, in a marshy plain, which presents nothing attractive to the eye of an artist. Dr. Barth describes it as a large open place, consisting mainly of conical huts, surrounded by spacious court-yards, and even by corn-fields; only the houses of the governor and his brothers being built of clay. When he entered it, Lowel, the governor, was in his fields, and could not be seen; but on his return the travellers proceeded to his “palace” to pay their respects. They were not allowed an interview, however, until the following day, and then it was anything but satisfactory. The officer who had accompanied them from Kuka took the opportunity of delivering certain despatches; and as they proved displeasing to the governor, he immediately vented his wrath upon Dr. Barth, accusing him of treacherous intentions. The audience terminated in confusion, and next day but one, Dr. Barth was ordered to leave Yola, on the pretence that his sojourn there could not be allowed unless he obtained the authorization of the Sultan of Sokoto. He was suffering from fever, and the heat of the day was excessive, but at once made preparations for departure. Sitting firmly in his large Arab stirrups, and clinging to the pommel of his saddle, he turned his horse’s head towards BornÚ, and, though he fainted twice, was soon invigorated by a refreshing breeze, which opportunely rose with healing on its wings.

But he was really ill when he arrived at KÚkÁwa, and, unhappily, the rainy season had begun. During the night of the 3rd of August, the storm converted his sleeping apartment into a small lake, and his fever was seriously aggravated. The pools which formed in every nook and corner of the town were rendered pestiferous by the filth of all kinds which stagnated in them. He ought to have withdrawn to some healthier country, but, in order to pay the debts of the expedition and prepare for new explorations, was compelled to remain and sell the merchandise which had arrived in his absence. He made all haste, however, to discharge this duty; and when, early in September, the Government despatched a body of the WelÁd ShinÁn—Arab mercenaries whom they had enlisted—to reconquer the eastern districts of the province of KÁnem, he attached himself to the expedition, accompanied by his fellow-traveller, Overweg.

In the course of this new journey they obtained another view of Lake Tchad, under peculiar circumstances. It was about seven o’clock in the morning. Far to their right, a whole herd of elephants, arranged in almost military array, like an army of rational beings, slowly proceeded to the water. In front appeared the males, as was evident from their size, in regular order; at a little distance followed the young ones; in a third line were the females; and the whole were brought up by five males of immense size. The latter, though the travellers were riding along quietly, and at a considerable distance, took notice of them, and some were seen throwing dust into the air; but no attempt was made to disturb them. There were altogether about ninety-six.

Barth and Overweg returned to KÚkÁwa on the 14th of November, but ten days afterwards they again sallied forth, accompanying another warlike expedition, which had been ordered to march against MÁnderÁ. It presented, however, few features of interest or importance. The indefatigable pioneers were back again in KÚkÁwa on the 1st of February, 1852, and there they remained until the 1st of March. Though crippled by want of means, enfeebled by fever, and beset by a thousand difficulties, Dr. Barth resolved on continuing his work of exploration, and, on the 17th of March, entered into Bagirmi, a region never before visited by Europeans.

Bagirmi forms an extensive table-land, with an inclination towards the north, and an elevation of 900 to 1000 feet above the sea-level. It measures about 240 miles from north to south, and 150 from east to west. In the north lie some scattered mountain ranges, which separate the two basins of Lake Fittri and Lake Tchad. The chief products are sorghum, millet, sesamum, poa, wild rice, haricot beans, water-melons, citron, and indigo. Very little grain is cultivated. The population numbers about 1,500,000 souls.

On reaching the broad stream of the Koloko, Dr. Barth found that he was suspected of treacherous designs against the throne of Bagirmi, and the boatmen refused to ferry him across, unless he obtained the Sultan’s permission. Resolved not to be baffled on the threshold of his enterprise, he retraced his steps for about two miles, then turned to the north-east, and at Mili succeeded in effecting the passage of the river. The country through which he advanced was fertile and well cultivated; village succeeded village in an almost unbroken series; here and there groups of natives issued from the thick foliage; numerous herds of cattle were feeding in the rich green water-meadows, and among them birds of the most beautiful plumage, and of all descriptions and sizes, sported upon nimble wing. The gigantic pelican dashed down occasionally from some neighbouring tree; the marabout stood silent, with head between its shoulders, like a decrepit old man; the large-sized azure-feathered “dÉdegami” strutted proudly along after its prey, the plotus, and extended its long snake-like neck; and the white ibis searched eagerly for food, with various species of ducks, and numerous other lesser birds, in larger or smaller flights.

But an unexpected obstacle arrested his progress; an official arrived with an intimation that he could not be allowed to continue his advance without the formal consent of the supreme authority. He therefore sent forward a messenger with letters to the capital, and retraced his steps to Mili, to await his return. He had not long to wait. The messenger made his appearance on the following day, bearing a document with a large black seal, which directed him to proceed to BÚgomÁn, a place higher up the river, until an answer could be obtained from the Sultan, who was then absent on a campaign in GÓgomi. But on his arrival at BÚgomÁn, the governor refused to receive him, and the unfortunate traveller was glad to find a resting-place at BÁkadÁ. There he had time and opportunity to meditate on the vast numbers of destructive worms and ants which afflicted the land of Bagirmi; especially a terrible large black worm, as long as, but much bigger than, the largest of European grubs, which, in its millions, consumes an immense proportion of the produce of the natives. There is also an injurious beetle, yellow as to colour, and half an inch as to length; but the people of Bagirmi take their revenge upon this destroyer by eating him as soon as he has grown fat at their expense. As for the ants, both black and white, they are always and everywhere a scourge and a calamity. Of the termites, or so-called white ants, which, by the way, are not really ants, Dr. Barth had unpleasant experience. As early as the second day of his sojourn at BÁkadÁ, he observed that they were threatening his couch, which he had spread on a mat of the thickest reeds, with total destruction. To circumvent their devices, he elevated it upon three large poles; but in two days’ time they had not only raised their entrenchments along the poles to the very top, but had eaten through mat and carpet, and accomplished much general depredation.

No reply arriving from the Sultan, Barth not unnaturally lost patience, and decided on quitting the inhospitable Bagirmi, and returning to KÚkÁwa. But he was closely watched; and on arriving at Mili, was arrested by order of the governor, who took possession of his arms, his baggage, his watch, his papers, his compass, and his horse, and placed him in charge of a couple of sentinels. Happily, while at BÁkadÁ he had made a powerful friend, who, making his appearance at Mili, interfered on his behalf, obtained the restoration of his property, and conducted him in person to MÁsenÁ, the capital. There he was lodged in a clay house standing in an open courtyard, which was likewise fenced by a low clay wall. The house contained an airy front room, which he found very comfortable, and four small chambers at the back, useful for stowing away luggage and provisions.

MÁsenÁ occupies a considerable area, the circumference of which measures about seven miles; but only about half this space is inhabited, the principal quarter being formed in the midst of the town on the north and west of the Sultan’s palace, while a few detached quarters and isolated yards lie straggling about as outposts. Its most distinctive feature is a deep trough-like bottom, running from east to west, which in the rainy season is filled with water, in the summer with verdure of the greatest luxuriance. To the south of this hollow, or bedÁ, lies the principal quarter, which, however, is by no means thickly inhabited. In the centre stands the palace; which is simply an irregular cluster of clay buildings and huts, surrounded by a wall of baked bricks. Generally speaking, the appearance of the town was one of decay and dilapidation; yet, as all the open grounds were enlivened with fresh green pasture, it was not deficient in a certain charm. There are no signs of industrial activity. The market-place is rather small, and without a single stall or shed. The chief feature of interest is the bedÁ, which is bordered on the south-west by picturesque groups of dÚm-palms and other trees of fine foliage; while at the western end, as well as on the south-east, spreads a large tract of market-gardens.

In general, the houses are well built, and the thatched roofs are formed with care, and even with neatness; but the clay is not of a good kind for building, and the clay houses afford so little security from the rains, that most persons prefer to reside during that part of the year in huts of straw and reed.

While waiting the Sultan’s arrival, Dr. Barth’s time was chiefly occupied in defending himself against the attacks of the large black ant (Termes mordax). One day, in particular, he maintained a long and desperate encounter with a host of these voracious little insects. In a thick unbroken column, about an inch broad, they had marched over the wall of the courtyard, and entering the hall where he abode both day and night, advanced right upon the store-room. But his couch being in their way, they immediately assailed his own person, and compelled him to decamp. Assisted by his servants, he then fell upon the bandits, killing all the stragglers and foragers, and burning the main body of the army as it proceeded on its way. But fresh legions arrived on the scene of war, and it took a struggle of two hours’ duration thoroughly to break up their lines, and put them to flight.

The insects seemed to have been attracted by the corn which Dr. Barth had stored up. But it must be owned that, if inconvenient in one respect, their attacks are beneficial in another; for they destroy all kinds of vermin, mice included. And while they thus act as the “scavengers of the houses,” in many parts of Negroland they also render service through their very greediness in gathering what man would fain appropriate for himself. They lay in such considerable stores of corn, that the poor natives frequently dig out their holes in order to gain possession of their supplies.

It was on the 3rd of July that the Sultan appeared before the walls of his capital, escorted by about eight hundred cavalry. At the head of the cortÉge rode the lieutenant-governor, surrounded by a troop of cavaliers. Then came the Barma, followed by a man carrying a spear of ancient and peculiar shape, designed to represent the “fetish,” or idol of KÉnga-MatÁya, the original patrimony of the kings of Bagirmi. Next rode the FÁcha, or commander-in-chief, who is the second person in the kingdom; and after him the Sultan himself, attired in a yellow burnous, and mounted on a grey charger, the points of which could hardly be seen owing to the amplitude of the war-trappings that hung about him. Nor was the head of his rider much more plainly visible, not only on account of the horsemen gathered round him, but more particularly owing to two umbrellas—one of green, the other of red—borne on each side of him by a couple of slaves.

Six slaves, their right arms clad in iron, fanned the magnificent prince with ostrich feathers attached to long poles, while round about him were gathered a motley array of his captains and courtiers, gay in burnouses of various colours, or in shirts of black or blue. Behind them followed the war-camel, bestridden by the drummer, KodgÁnga, who made the echoes resound with the clang of a couple of kettle-drums, fastened on each side of the animal; and the charivari was swelled by the exertions of three musicians, two of whom played upon horns, and the third upon a bugle. Mention must be made of the long train of the Sultan’s female slaves, or favourites, forty-five in number, all mounted upon horseback, all dressed from head to foot in black cloth, and all guarded by a slave on either side. The procession was terminated by a train of eleven camels, carrying the baggage.

A day or two afterwards, an officer of the Sultan demanded Dr. Barth’s attendance at the palace. He hastened thither; and being admitted into an inner courtyard, found the courtiers sitting on either side of a door, which was protected by screenwork made of very fine reeds. Being desired to sit down, along with his companions, and ignorant whom he should address, he asked in a loud voice if the Sultan ’Abdel-Kadir were present. A clear voice, from behind the screen, answered that he was. When fully satisfied that he was addressing the prince, he proceeded to offer his respects, and present the compliments of the great and powerful British Government, which desired to be on terms of unity with so illustrious a prince. His speech, which he delivered in Arabic, was translated by an interpreter, and received a favourable reply. His presents also were accepted with satisfaction, and the audience ended. Next day he had a second audience, at which he expressed his desire to return to KÚkÁwa. After some slight delay, he obtained the Sultan’s leave to depart, and was supplied with a camel and two horsemen to assist him on his journey. Well pleased with the result of his visit to MÁsenÁ, after the inauspicious circumstances which had attended its commencement, he set out on his return to the capital of BornÚ, and arrived there in safety on the 21st of August. He was glad to find Mr. Overweg in excellent spirits, for liberal supplies had been forwarded by the British Government, though looking physically weak and exhausted. The sheikh received him with great cordiality, and he enjoyed a degree of comfort and repose to which he had long been a stranger.

His business, however, was to explore unknown countries, and to open up new paths to the enterprise of commerce. Considering it almost impossible to penetrate southward, on account of the obstacles thrown in his way by the native princes, he meditated a journey westward in the hope of reaching the celebrated city of TimbÚktu, at one time the centre of so many extravagant legends. The fulfilment of his projects was delayed by an unhappy calamity. During a short excursion in the neighbourhood of KÚkÁwa, Mr. Overweg got wet, caught a chill, and was afterwards seized with a violent fever, which carried him off in a few hours (September 27th). He died, a martyr to science, and one of the many victims of African exploration, in his thirtieth year.

A delay of some weeks was the necessary result of this melancholy event; but Barth, though left alone, was not to be turned aside from the great object of all his labours. His gaze was directed towards the Niger—towards the terra incognita which lay between the route pursued by the French traveller, CaillÉ, and the region in which Lander and Major Clapperton had achieved so many important discoveries. His preparations completed, he took final leave of KÚkÁwa on the 25th of November; and on the 9th of December had crossed the frontier of HÁusa. On the 12th he directed his course towards the north-east, and the mountain region of MÚniyo. The road waved, serpent-like, through a succession of valleys, the green sides of which were covered with groves and villages. MÚniyo takes the form of a wedge, or triangle, the apex projecting towards the desert. The home of a peaceful and industrious population, who flourish under a mild and orderly government, it presents an agreeable contrast to the neighbouring territories, inhabited by nomads. Its rulers, men of courage and energy, have not only been able to defend their country against the attacks of the Babus, but to encroach upon the district of DiggÉra, which had submitted to the latter. The chief of this independent province can bring into the field, it is said, an army of 1500 horse and 9000 or 10,000 archers; and his revenue amounts to 30,000,000 kurdi (about £6000) a year, without counting the tax which he levies on the crops.

Barth diverged somewhat to the westward in order to visit U’shek, the largest corn-producing district in western BornÚ; it is characterized by a curious alternation of luxuriance and sterility. At the foot of a mountain lies a barren, desolate tract, on the very threshold of which lies an undulating country, bright with date-palms and tamarisks, with crystal pools and rich grasses. Around the town of U’shek spreads a glittering girdle of corn-fields, onion-beds, cotton-fields, in various stages of development. Here the labourer is breaking up the clods and irrigating the soil; there, his neighbour is weeding out his blooming crops. The vegetation everywhere is abundant. The accumulation of refuse prevents you, however, from gaining a general view of the village, which lurks in the sheltering folds of the soil; but the main group of houses surrounds the foot of an eminence, crowned by the habitation of the chief. Observe that while the huts are made of reeds and the stems of millet, the towers in which the grain is pounded are constructed of clay, and ten feet in height.

Beyond U’shek stretches a sandy table-land, waving with a dense growth of reeds, and intersected by fertile valleys. Then comes a spur of the mountain-range which rises in the south-west; an irregular and broken plain, carpeted with grass and broom; a jungle of mimosas, dense thickets of capparis, and at intervals small patches of cultivated land. The climate is intensely hot; the very soil seems to burn; and our traveller, feeling himself ill, was forced to rest. During the night, a cold north-east wind covered him and his followers with the feathery awns of the pennixtum; and they rose in the morning in a condition of indescribable uneasiness. The next night was also cold; but there was no wind.

At BadÁmuni, the fertile fields are brightened with springs, which feed a couple of lakes, connected by a canal. Notwithstanding this channel of intercommunication, one of these lakes is of fresh water; the other brackish, and strongly impregnated with natron. It is noticeable that in this region all the valleys and all the mountain-chains run from north-east to south-west, and the direction of the two lakes is the same. Their margin is fringed with papyrus, except that at the point where the water turns brackish the papyrus is succeeded by the kumba, the pith of which is edible. Dr. Barth’s two attendants, born on the shores of the Tchad, immediately recognized this species of reed as growing in a similar manner at the point where that great inland sea touches the basins of nature that surround it. It is a curious circumstance that while the lake of fresh water is of a bright blue, and calm and smooth as a mirror, the other is green as the sea, and heaves to and fro in constant commotion, rolling its foamy waves to the beach, which they strew with marine weeds.

The town of Zindu is protected by a rampart and ditch. Its aspect is remarkable: a mass of rock rises in the western quarter; and outside the walls stony ridges run in all directions, throwing forth a myriad crystal streams, which fertilize the tobacco-fields, and secure for the immediate neighbourhood an exceptional fertility. The landscape is enlivened by frequent clumps of date-palms and by the huts of the Touaregs, who conduct a brisk trade in salt. To the south extends an immense piece of ground, utilized, at the time of Dr. Barth’s visit, as a garden of acclimatization. It is easy, let us say, to define the ground-plan of Zindu, but not to depict the stir and movement of which it is the centre, limited as that activity may be, compared with the feverish and far-reaching life of the industrial centres of Europe. Zindu has no other manufacture than that of indigo; nevertheless, its commercial energy is so great that it may justly be termed “the port of the Soudan.”

Here Dr. Barth received the welcome supply of a thousand dollars, which, not to excite suspicion, had been carefully concealed in a couple of sugar barrels. He was enabled, therefore, to purchase the articles necessary for barter or gifts in his expedition to TimbÚktu, such as red, white, and yellow burnouses, turbans, cloves, cutlery, beads, and looking-glasses; and on the 30th of January, 1853, he resumed his march.

The country he had to traverse was the scene of incessant warfare between the Fulbi and the independent tribes. At the outset he met with some salt merchants from A’ir, whose picturesque encampments would have delighted an artist’s eye, but did not add to the security of the roads. He arrived in safety, however, on the 5th of February, at KÁtsÉna, and took up his quarters in a residence specially assigned to him. The house was spacious; but so full of ants, that, having rested himself for an hour on a bank of clay, he found that the freebooters had climbed the wall, constructed covered galleries right up to his person, and delivered a combined attack upon his shirt, in which they had eaten large holes.

The governor of KÁtsÉna gave our traveller a courteous reception, and deigned to accept with evident satisfaction the burnouses, cafton, cup, two loaves of sugar, and pistol, which Dr. Barth offered him. The pistol gave him so much pleasure that he asked for a second; and, of course, a refusal was impossible. Thenceforth he ate and drank and walked and slept with his two pistols in his belt, and terrified everybody who approached him by snapping caps in their face. It happened that, at this time, the ghaladima of Sikoto, inspector of KÁtsÉna, was in the town collecting tribute. He was a frank and simple-natured man, neither very generous nor very intelligent, but of benevolent disposition and sociable character. Dr. Barth purchased some silk and cotton stuffs from the looms of MepÈ and KanÓ, and being very anxious to pursue his journey, waited for the ghaladima to set out, in order to enjoy the advantage of his escort. It was on the 21st of March that this high official, accompanied by our traveller, took his departure. The governor attended them as far as the limits of his jurisdiction, and they had a numerous guard; while, as a further protection against mishaps, they steered to the south, instead of to the west, in which direction war was raging.

It was the happy time of spring; a bloom was on the earth, and a light and perfume in the air; nature put on her greenest attire; the alleluba, the parkia, the cucifera, the bombyx rose in masses of foliage. The country through which the travellers rode was fair and fertile, populous and well cultivated; the pastures echoed with the low of cattle; the fields rejoiced in profuse crops of yams and tobacco. In the district of Maja, cotton, indigo, potatoes were grown on a very large scale. Beyond KuruyÁ, a town of 5000 to 6000 souls, the fertility of the land increased, if such increase were possible; the many-rooted banyan, or Indian fig-tree, displayed its colossal splendour:—

“Irregularly spread,
Fifty straight columns propped its lofty head;
And many a long depending shoot,
Seeking to strike its root,
Straight, like a plummet, grew towards the ground;
Some on the lower boughs, which curved their way,
Fixing their bearded fibres, round and round,
With many a ring and wild contortion wound;
Some to the passing wind, at times, with sway
Of gentle motion moving;
Others of younger growth, unmoved, were hung
Like stone-drops from the cavern’s fretted height.”

Bassiaparkia, sorghum, and millet were abundant. But at Kulfi the travellers reached the limit which divides the Mohammedans from the heathens—civilization (imperfect and undeveloped, if you will, but not wholly without a respect for law and order) and barbarism. As Dr. Barth advanced, he seemed to pass from spring to winter; cultivation disappeared; villages ruined and silent bore witness to the desolating work of war; and it was only by the cattle browsing in the scanty pastures that he knew the land was not entirely deserted. At Zekka, a town of some importance, with wall and ditch, he separated from the ghaladima, and, through a dense forest, pushed forward to the ruins of Moniya. He had intended to halt there, but an armed force had encamped at Moniya on the preceding evening, and he retreated into the shelter of the forest until the morning. A day’s march brought him to Zyrmi, a considerable town, the governor of which was formerly chief of the whole province of Zanfara.

On the 31st of March, he stood on the border of the GÚndÚmi Desert, of the passage of which Major Clapperton has left so exciting a narrative. It is passable only by a forced march. Dr. Barth began by striking too far to the south, and lost valuable time in the midst of an impervious jungle. Recovering the direct track, he marched all that day, all that night, without seeing any sign of human life, and until the middle of the following day, when he met some horsemen who had been sent forward to meet him, with vessels of water. Two miles further, and he could see the village where the Emir AliyÚ had pitched his camp; he was then at war with the people of Gober. For thirty hours he and his followers had marched without a halt; they were completely spent, and the men, in their absolute weariness, fell prostrate upon the ground. The intrepid Barth rallied his energies; his excitement dispelled the sense of fatigue; and he searched his baggage for some valuable gift to the Emir, who was to depart on the following day, for upon him and his favour the success of his enterprise wholly depended. The day glided by, and he had begun to despair of being admitted to an audience; but in the evening the Emir sent him an ox, four fat sheep, and four hundred parcels of rice, and a message to the effect that he awaited his visit. It must be owned that some of these barbaric potentates do things right royally!

Dr. Barth entered the august presence. The Emir immediately seized him by the hand, made him sit down, and interrupted him when he began to excuse himself for not having visited SokotÓ before he went to KÚkÁwa. His two requests, for the Emir’s safe-conduct as far as TimbÚktu, and a royal letter guaranteeing the lives and property of Englishmen visiting his territories, he received very favourably; affirming that his sole thought was for the welfare of humanity, and, consequently, he desired to promote the friendly intercourse of all nations. Next day Barth had another interview, and offered a second supply of presents. He describes the Emir as a strongly built man, of average stature, with a round, full, but not unpleasant face.

On the 4th of April, with the royal letter, of which he had dictated the terms, and a hundred thousand kurdis which the prince had generously sent to him to defray his expenses during his absence, he took up his residence at Vurno, the Emir’s usual abode. The unsavoury condition of the town, which was traversed by a cloaca more disgusting even than those of Italy, surprised and shocked him. Outside the walls, the Gulbi-n-rima formed several basins of stagnant water in the middle of a plain, where the traveller’s camels sadly pined for pasture. The frontiers of three provinces—Kebbi, Adar, and Gober—meet in this arid plain, which, however, after the rainy season, wears a completely different aspect.

The town became more and more deserted; daily its notables departed to join the Emir; though, as a rule, these warriors cared only for their own pleasure, and would sell their weapons for a dram of kola-nut wine. In no part of Negroland did Dr. Barth see less military ardour or more physical depression. Meanwhile, he amused himself by collecting topographical details, studying the history of the country, and making excursions in the neighbourhood; among others to SokotÓ, on the river Bugga. It was not until the 23rd of April that the Emir returned to his capital, after an expedition which, if not glorious, had been at least successful. Always generous towards Dr. Barth, he had invited him to meet him, and king and traveller went together to the palace. On the same day, Barth made him a present of a musical box, which appears to be the prize most eagerly coveted by African potentates. The Emir, in his rapture, summoned his grand vizier to see and hear the marvel; but the mysterious box, affected by the climate and the length of the journey it had undergone, refused to pour forth its melodious treasures. However, after a day or two’s labour, Dr. Barth succeeded in repairing it, and releasing its imprisoned streams of music. Who shall describe the Emir’s excess of joy? He proved the sincerity of his gratitude by immediately giving Dr. Barth a commendatory letter to his nephew, the chief of Gando, and the long-expected permission to depart.

Leaving Vurno on the 8th of May, Dr. Barth reached Gando on the 17th. It was the capital of another Fulbi chief, scarcely less powerful than the Emir, whose protection was of the greatest importance to the traveller, because both banks of the Niger were within his territory. It was not obtained without persevering effort—and many gifts, besides frequent bribes to an Arab consul, who had contrived to make himself indispensable to the feeble prince.

On the 4th of June our indefatigable explorer entered the deep valleys of Kebbi, which, in the rainy season, are converted into extensive rice-fields. At Kombara, the governor hospitably sent him all the constituents of a first-class Soudanian repast, from the sheep to the grains of salt and the Dodua cake. GaumachÉ, formerly a thriving town, is now a village of slaves. A similarly fatal change has passed over Yara; formerly rich and industrious, rank weeds now grow in its silent streets. But life and death lie cheek by jowl in these fertile regions; and to the ruined towns and deserted villages immediately succeed prolific rice-fields, shaded by clumps of trees.

The whole country was overshadowed by the thunder-clouds of war; yet the traveller passed continuously through plantations of yams, and cotton, and papyrus, whose fresh green foliage waved above the walls. He halted at Kola, where the governor could dispose of seventy matchlocks and the men who handled them; an important personage in the disturbed condition of the country, whom it was politic to visit. The sister of this lord of warriors presented Dr. Barth with a fine fat goose—an addition to his dietary which rejoiced him greatly. As he approached Jogirma, the three sons of its chief came forth to salute him in their father’s name. It proved to be a much more considerable town than the traveller had expected, and the palace was a spacious and even imposing building, in its architecture recalling the characters of the Gothic style. The population numbered seven to eight thousand souls, whom civil discord had reduced to a pitiful extremity. It was with no little difficulty that Dr. Barth obtained even a supply of millet.

On the 10th he entered a beautiful forest, where the air was heavy with the sweet odours of flowering trees; but the place is noted for its insalubrity. Dr. Barth was compelled to remain there for twenty-four hours, one of his camels having gone astray; and this circumstance appeared so extraordinary, that the neighbouring peasants were in the habit of referring to him as “the man who passed a whole day in the deadly desert.”

On a quadrangular eminence, about thirty feet high, in the valley of Fogha—an eminence built up of refuse—stands a village with some resemblance to the ancient town of Assyria. The inhabitants extract salt from the black mud out of which their little hillock rises. There are other villages of a similar character. The condition of the population is most wretched; they suffer continually from the forays of the robbers of Dendina.After a march of two or three miles over a rocky soil, sprinkled with bushes and brushwood, Dr. Barth, with intense satisfaction, caught the glimmer of water, as if the sun were lighting up a broad mirror, and rapidly pushing forward, came, in an hour’s time, to Say, a ferry on the great river of the Soudan—the river which has divided with the Nile the curiosity of geographers, and attracted the enterprise of the adventurous; the river which, perhaps, surpasses the Nile in its promise of future commercial industry; the river which we associate with the names of so many heroic travellers, from Mungo Park to Cameron,—the Niger.

III.

The Niger—all the various names of which (Joliba, Mayo, Eghirrau, Isa, Kuara, Baki-a-rua) signify one and the same thing, the River—is about seven hundred yards broad at the Say ferry, and flows from north-north-east to south-south-west with a velocity of three miles an hour. The left bank has an elevation of about thirty feet; the right bank is low, and crowned with a town of considerable size. The traffic is incessant; Fulbis and Sourays, with their asses and oxen, continually pass to and fro. The boats in use are constructed of two hollow trunks of trees, fastened together, and measure a length of forty feet and a breadth of four feet and a half. With feelings of a mingled character Dr. Barth crossed this stately river, the exploration of which has necessitated the sacrifice of so many noble lives, and entered the busy town of Say. Its walls form a quadrilateral of fourteen hundred yards; the houses of the inhabitants, all built of reeds except the governor’s, are scattered in groups over the area they enclose. In the rainy season, a hollow or valley, which cuts across it from north to south, is filled with water, which impedes communication, and renders the place insalubrious. When the river is flooded, the town is entirely inundated, and all its inhabitants are compelled to migrate. The market of Say is not well provided: the supply of grain is small, of onions nil, of rice nil, though the soil is well adapted to their cultivation; of cotton, however, there is always a large quantity; and Say will prove an important position for Europeans as soon as the great river route of Western Africa begins to be utilized.

Dr. Barth was told by the governor—who had the manners of a Jew, but was evidently born of a slave-mother—that he should welcome with joy a European vessel bringing to the town the many articles its inhabitants needed. He was astonished to find that the traveller was not a trader; and believing that only some very powerful motive could induce any man to undertake such an expedition, he grew alarmed at the possibility of treacherous and insidious designs, and requested him to leave the place. Dr. Barth was by no means unwilling, and on the following day left behind him the Niger, which separates the explored regions of Negroland from the unexplored, and eagerly directed his course towards the mysterious zone which stretched before him.

He had crossed the low swampy island occupied by the town of Say, and the western branch of the river, at that season entirely dry, when a great storm of thunder and rain broke upon him, and his progress was arrested by the rolling clouds of sand which the wind accumulated in his path. After a halt of three hours his march was resumed, though the soil was flooded with water to a depth of several inches. The country through which he passed had been colonized by the Sourays; it is a dependency of the province of Guinea, and the natives were at war both with the colonists and the Fulbi. Thence he entered a well-cultivated district, where the Fulbi, who regard the cow as the most useful member of the animal world, breed large herds of cattle. The scenery was varied by thickets of mimosas, with here and there a baobab or a tamarisk. More attractive to the traveller, because more novel, were the numerous furnaces, six or seven feet high, used for casting iron.

The ground broke up into great irregularities; ridges of rock ran in all directions; formations of gneiss and mica schist predominated, with rare and beautiful varieties of granite. There, through banks of twenty feet in height, picturesque and rocky, flowed the deep waters of the Sirba. To effect the passage, Dr. Barth’s followers could obtain only some bundles of reeds; the chief and all the inhabitants of the village sitting calmly on the bank, and watching their operations with lively interest. The men had expressive countenances, with effeminate features; long plaited hair, which fell upon the shoulders; a pipe in their mouths; and, for attire, a blue shirt and wide blue trousers. The women were dumpy and ill proportioned; they wore numerous collars, and pearls in their ears; their bosom and legs were naked.Another storm overtook the travellers, and converted the jungles through which they wound their way into a wide expanse of water. The solitariness of the land was broken at one point by a village, charmingly enclosed within a quickset hedge; fields of maize were succeeded by a tract of forest; then they entered a populous district, where the loaded camels laboured heavily through the clayey soil. At Sibba, where the governor, standing at the gate, was explaining to his people certain verses of the Koran, Dr. Barth was handsomely lodged in a hut newly built, with walls excellently polished, and quite an attractive and refreshing appearance. But, in life, there is always a flavour of wormwood in the cup of joy; appearances are proverbially deceitful; and Dr. Barth’s beautiful abode proved to be a nest of ants, which committed wholesale depredations on his baggage.

The day after his arrival chanced to be the last of the great Mohammedan feast of the Ramadan. That it was to be a day of festival was announced at earliest dawn by the sound of merry music; the Fulbi streamed forth from their houses, clad in white chemises, as a sign of the white purity of their faith; and the governor paraded through the town at the head of a cortÉge of forty horsemen. As the cadi showed an inclination to represent Dr. Barth in the unwelcome capacity of a sorcerer, he deemed it prudent to distribute a largess among the people of the procession.

He arrived at DorÉ, the chief town of Libtako, on the 12th of July. The soil is dry, and troops of gazelles frolic about the arid plain which borders on the market-place. The market, on the occasion of Dr. Barth’s visit, was frequented by four or five hundred persons, who were buying or selling salt, and cotton stuffs, and copper vessels, and corn, and kola-nuts, and asses. The inhabitants of DorÉ are partial to ornaments made of copper; and Dr. Barth noticed two young girls wearing in their hair a copper device of a horseman, sword in hand and pipe in mouth. The pipe, be it observed, is in great request among the Sourays, who seem to be of the opinion of Lord Lytton, that “he who doth not smoke hath either known no great griefs, or refused himself the softest consolation, next to that which comes from heaven.”

Beyond DorÉ the country was a network of rivers and morasses. Buffaloes were exceedingly numerous. A venomous fly, very rare to the east of the Soudan, seriously annoyed Dr. Barth’s cattle. It was the wet season; rain descended perpetually, as if the floodgates of heaven had been opened, and water was everywhere—in front, in rear, on either side; water, water, water! For quiet English gentlemen, living at home at ease, or occasionally indulging in a railway journey of a few hundred miles, in a comfortable carriage, through fields well cultivated and well drained, where rivers seldom break their bounds, or if they do, never accomplish greater injury than the overflowing of a green meadow or two, it is almost impossible to conceive the difficulty, and even danger, of traversing the African plains in the rainy season, of conveying heavy baggage through leagues upon leagues of swamps, which the unloaded camel finds it laborious to cross. More than once Dr. Barth was afraid that his horse, in spite of its robust vigour, would fail to extricate its limbs from the deep mud, and sink with its rider in the slough. So tremendous are the rains, that in a single night they have been known to sweep away the fourth part of a large village, and in one house eleven goats have perished.

Hitherto Dr. Barth had maintained his quality as a Christian; but on entering Dalla, a province belonging to the fanatical chief of Masina, who would never have permitted “an infidel” to traverse his territories, Dr. Barth thought it advisable to assume the character of an Arab. But a dispute which he had with his host, respecting a pack of dogs that showed a decided unwillingness to give place to a stranger, indicated no great religious fervour on the part of the population. Good Mohammedans have no liking for the canine race. The Fulbi will not employ them even as guides for their cattle, which they direct by the voice. All the dogs were black; the poultry were black and white. Dr. Barth observed that the crops suffered greatly from the ravages of a large black worm, which he had not met with since his expedition into Bagirmi.

On the 5th of August he entered into a region of swamp and morass, and he was glad when, to relieve the monotony of the landscape, he caught sight of the picturesque Souray villages and the fantastic outline of the chain of the Hombori mountains. The various forms of this singular range, none of the peaks of which rise more than eight hundred feet above the level of the plain, can hardly be imagined; they irresistibly attract the traveller’s eye. On a gentle slope, composed of masses of rock, is built a perpendicular wall, the terraced summit of which is inhabited by a native race who have ever maintained their independence. That these heroic hillmen sometimes descend from their fastnesses is shown by their flocks of sheep and crops of millet. Starting from this point, a twofold range of remarkable crests extends along the plain, with a curious similitude to the ruins of mediÆval castles.

Refused admission at BonÁ, and afraid to enter Nuggera, well known to be a hot-bed of fanaticism, Dr. Barth solicited the hospitality of some Towaregs, who were encamped in the neighbourhood. Their chief, a man of agreeable physiognomy, with fine features and a fair complexion, placed one of his huts at the traveller’s disposal, and sent him some milk and a sheep ready cooked. Next day, his tents of canvas figured in the midst of those of his host, and he was besieged by a number of very stout ladies, all importunate for gifts. At Bambara, a considerable agricultural centre, surrounded by the canals and affluents of the Niger, he resided for several days. It is situated upon a backwater (mariyet) of the river, which, at the time of Barth’s visit, was almost dry. In the ordinary course of things, it ought, in three weeks, to be crowded with boats, going to TimbuktÚ by OÁlÁzo and SarÁyamÓ, and to DirÁ by Kanima. The prosperity of the town depends, therefore, on the rains; and as these had not begun, the whole population, with the Emir at their head, implored the pretended Arab doctor, whom they chose to regard as a great magician, to exercise his powers to obtain from the skies a copious benediction. Dr. Barth eluded the request for a formal ceremony, but expressed a hope that Heaven would listen to wishes so very reasonable. As it happened, there was a slight fall of rain next day, which drew from the inhabitants the sincerest gratitude; but, for all that, Dr. Barth was very glad to put some distance between himself and Bambara.

On the 1st of September, at SarÁyamÓ, Dr. Barth embarked on one of the branches of the Niger, and sailed towards TimbuktÚ. The stream was about a hundred yards wide, and so thick with aquatic plants that the voyagers seemed to be gliding over a prairie. Moreover, in its bed the asses and horses obtained the chief part of their sustenance. In about two miles and a half they entered open water, and the boatmen, whose songs had rung the praises of the Julius CÆsar of Negroland, the Sultan Mohammed ben Abubakr, carried them, from winding to winding, between banks clothed with cucifers, tamarinds, and rich grasses, on which sometimes cattle were feeding, and sometimes the gazelle. The presence of alligators was a sign that they approached a broader water, and the channel suddenly widened to two hundred yards; its banks alive with pelicans and other water-birds, while men and horses went to and fro. The curves and bends of the stream increased, and the banks assumed a more defined and regular formation; wider and wider became the water-way, until it reached three hundred and forty yards. Some fires shone out against the evening shadows. At the bottom of a little creek clustered a little village. In no part of the course could any current be discerned; it was a kind of lagoon which the voyagers were crossing, and sometimes the wave flowed in one direction, sometimes in another. After two centuries of war, its shores, once so animated, have sunk into silence; and Gakovia, Sanyara, and many other villages have ceased to be. There, on the edge of the bank, towered aloft a clump of graceful trees, the haunt of numerous bees; here, a patch of greensward brightened with the colours of many blossoms. The river now flowed from south-west to north-east, with a noble expanse of six hundred yards; its majestic flood rolling like a volume of silver in the moonlight, with the reflection of stars sparkling thickly on the crests of its waves.

After a pilgrimage of eight months’ duration, Dr. Barth arrived at Kabara, the river-port of TimbuktÚ; and was lodged in a house on the highest ground, which contained two large and several small rooms, and a first floor. The inner court was occupied by a numerous and varied assortment of sheep, ducks, pigeons, and poultry. At early dawn, on the day after his arrival, our traveller, almost suffocated, left his room; but he had scarcely begun his walk before a Towareg chief interrupted him, and demanded a present. Receiving a prompt refusal, he coolly announced that, in his quality as a bandit, he could do him a good deal of harm. Dr. Barth, in fact, was hors la loi, and the first wretch who suspected him of being a Christian might slay him with impunity. He succeeded, however, in getting rid of the Towareg. Meanwhile, the house was crowded with visitors from TimbuktÚ, some on foot, some on horseback, but all wearing blue robes, drawn close to the figure by a drapery, with short breeches and peaked straw hats. All carried lances, while some had swords and guns; they seated themselves in the courtyard, overflowed the chambers, staring at one another, and asking each other who this stranger might be. In the course of the day, Dr. Barth was “interviewed” by fully two hundred persons. In the evening, a messenger whom he had despatched to TimbuktÚ returned, accompanied by Sidi Alawat, one of the Sultan’s brothers. Dr. Barth confided to him the secret of his Christian profession, but added that he was under the special protection of the sovereign of Stamboul. Unfortunately, he had no other proof of his assertion than an old firman dating from his former residence in Egypt; the interview, however, passed off very agreeably.

On the following day, they crossed the sand-hills in the rear of Kabara; the yellow barrenness of the country contrasting vividly with the fertility of the verdurous borders of the river. It is, indeed, a desert, infested by roving bands of murderous Towaregs. Such is the well-known insecurity of the route, that a thicket, situated midway, bears the significant name of “It does not hear”—that is, it is deaf to the cries of a victim. To the left stands the tree of Wely-Salah, a mimosa which the natives have covered with rags in the hope that the saint will replace them by new clothes. As they drew near TimbuktÚ, the sky clouded over, the atmosphere was full of sand, and the city could scarcely be seen through the rubbish surrounding it. A deputation of the inhabitants met Dr. Barth, and bade him welcome. One of them addressed him in Turkish. He had almost forgotten the language, which, of course, in his character of a Syrian, he ought to have known; but he recalled a few words with which to frame a reply, and then avoided awkward questions by spurring his horse and entering the city. The streets were so narrow, that not more than two horsemen could ride abreast; Dr. Barth was astonished, however, by the two-storied houses, with their ornamented faÇades. Turning to the west, and passing in front of the Sultan’s palace, he arrived at the house which had been allotted for his accommodation.

He had attained the goal of his wishes; he had reached TimbuktÚ; but the anxieties and fatigue of his journey had exhausted him, and he was seized with an attack of fever. Yet never had he had greater need of his energy and coolness. A rumour had already got abroad that a Christian had obtained admission into the city. The Sultan was absent; and his brother, who had promised his support, was sulking because he had not received presents enough. On the following day, however, the fever having left him, Barth received the visits of some courteous people, and took the air on the terrace of his lodging, which commanded a view of the city. To the north could be seen the massive outlines of the great mosque of Sankora; to the east, the tawny surface of the desert; to the south, the habitations of the Ghadami merchants; while the picture gained variety from the presence of straw-roofed huts among houses built of clay, long rows of narrow winding streets, and a busy market-place on the slope of the sand-hills.

A day or two later, there were rumours of a meditated attack upon his residence, but his calm and intrepid aspect baffled hostile designs. The sheikh’s brother made an attempt to convert him, and defied him to demonstrate the superiority of his religious principles. With the help of his pupils, he carried on an animated discussion; but Dr. Barth confuted him, and by his candour and good sense secured the esteem of the more intelligent inhabitants. A fresh attack of fever supervened on the 17th; his weakness increased daily; when, at three o’clock in the morning of the 26th, a blare of instruments and a din of voices announced the arrival of the sheikh, El Bakay, and his warm welcome to the stranger dispelled his pains and filled him with a new vigour. He strongly censured his brother’s ungracious conduct; sent provisions to Barth, with a recommendation to partake of nothing that did not come from his palace; and offered him his choice between the various routes that led to the sea-coast. Could he have foreseen that he was fated to languish eight months at TimbuktÚ, Dr. Barth thinks that he could not have supported the idea; but, happily, man never knows the intensity or duration of the struggle in which he engages, and marches courageously through the shadows which hide from him the future.

Ahmed El Bakay was tall of stature and well proportioned, with an open countenance, an intelligent air, and the bearing and physiognomy of a European. His complexion was almost black. His costume consisted of a short black tunic, black pantaloons, and a shawl bound negligently round his head. Between him and Dr. Barth a cordial understanding was quickly formed and loyally maintained. He spoke frequently of Major Laing, the only Christian whom he had ever seen; for, thanks to the disguise assumed by the French traveller, CaillÉ, no one at TimbuktÚ was aware that he had at one time resided in their city.

TimbuktÚ is situated about six miles from the Niger, in lat. 18° N. Its shape is that of a triangle, the apex of which is turned towards the desert. Its circuit at the present time is about three miles and a half; but of old it extended over a much larger area. It is by no means the wealthy, powerful, and splendid city which was dreamed of in the fond imaginations of the early travellers. Its streets are unpaved, and most of them narrow. There are a thousand houses clay-built, and, in the northern and north-western suburbs, some two hundred huts of reeds. No traces exist of the ancient palace, nor of the Kasba; but the town has three large and three small mosques, and a chapel. It is divided into seven quarters, inhabited by a permanent population of thirty thousand souls, which is increased to thirty-five or forty thousand from November to January, the epoch of the caravans. Founded early in the twelfth century by the Towaregs, on one of their old pasture-grounds, TimbuktÚ belonged to the Souray in the first half of the fourteenth. Recovered, a century later, by its founders, it was snatched from them by Sami Ali, who sacked it, then rebuilt it, and drew thither the merchants of Ghadami. As early as 1373 it is marked upon the Spanish charts, not only as the entrepÔt of the trade in salt and gold, but as the scientific and religious centre of the Western Soudan; and exciting the cupidity of Mulay Ahmed, it fell, in 1592, with the empire of the Askias, under the sway of Marocco. Down to 1826 it remained in the hands of the Ramas, or Maroccan soldiers settled in the country. Next came the Fulbi; then the Towaregs, who drove out the Fulbi in 1844. But this victory, by isolating TimbuktÚ on the border of the river, led to a famine. Through the intervention of El Bakay, however, a compromise was effected in 1848; the Towaregs recognized the nominal supremacy of the Fulbi, on condition that they should keep no garrison in the city; the taxes were to be collected by two cadis, a Souray and a Fulbi; and the administration, or rather the police, was entrusted to two Souray magistrates, controlled simultaneously by the Fulbi and the Towaregs, between whom was divided the religious authority, represented by the sheikh, a Rama by origin.

Dr. Barth’s residence in TimbuktÚ was a source of intense dissatisfaction to some of the ruling spirits. Even in the sheikh’s own family it led to grave dissensions; and many demanded that he should be expelled. El Bakay remained firm in his support, and, to protect the life of his visitor, moved him to Kabara. Dr. Barth speaks in high terms of this liberal and enlightened man, and of the happiness of his domestic circle. Europe itself could not produce a more affectionate father or husband; indeed, Dr. Barth hints that he yielded too much to the wishes of his august partner.

Week after week, the storms of war and civil discord raged more and more furious; the traveller’s position became increasingly painful. His bitterest enemies were the Fulbi. They endeavoured to drag him from the sheikh’s protection by force, and when this failed, had recourse to an artifice to get him into their power. The WelÁd Shinan, who assassinated Major Laing, swore they would kill him. On the 27th of February, 1854, the chief of the Fulbi again intimated to the sheikh his request that Barth should be driven from the country. The sheikh peremptorily refused. Then came a fresh demand, and a fresh refusal; a prolonged and angry struggle; a situation more and more intolerable; while commerce suffered and the people were disquieted by the quarrels of their rulers. So it came to pass that, on the night of the 17th of March, Sidi Mohammed, eldest brother of El Bakay, beat the drum, mounted his horse, and bade Dr. Barth follow him with two of his servants, while the Towaregs, who supported them, clashed their bucklers together, and shouted their shrill war-cry. He found the sheikh at the head of a numerous body of Arabs and Sourays, with some Fulbi, who were devoted to him. As might be expected, Dr. Barth begged that he might not be the cause of any bloodshed; and the sheikh promised the malcontents that he would conduct the obnoxious Christian beyond the town. He encamped on the frontier of the Oberay, where everybody suffered terribly from bad food and insects.

At length, after a residence of thirty-three days on the creek of BosÁbango, it was decided that the march should be begun on the 19th of April. On the 25th, after having passed through various encampments of Towaregs, they followed the windings of the Niger, having on their left a well-wooded country, intersected by marshes, and enlivened by numerous pintados. Then they fell in with the valiant Wughduga, a sincere friend of El Bakay, and a magnificent Towareg warrior, nearly seven feet high, of prodigious strength, and the hero of deeds of prowess worthy of the most famous knight of the Table Round. Under his escort Dr. Barth reached Gogo—in the fifteenth century the flourishing and famous capital of the Souray empire, now a small and straggling town with a few hundred huts. Here he took leave of his kind and generous protector; and, with an escort of about twenty persons, recrossed to the right bank of the river, and descended it as far as Say, where he had passed it the year before. In this journey of one hundred and fifty leagues, he had seen everywhere the evidence of great fertility, and a peaceable population, in whose midst a European might travel in security; speaking to the people, as he did, of the sources and termination of their great fostering river—questions which interest those good negroes as much, perhaps, as they have perplexed the scientific societies of Europe, but of which they do not possess the most rudimentary knowledge.

Arriving at SokotÓ and Vurno in the midst of the rainy season, Dr. Barth was warmly welcomed by the Emir; but, with strength exhausted and health broken, he could not profit by his kindness.

On the 17th of October he arrived at KanÓ, where he had been long expected; but neither money nor despatches had been forwarded for him—no news from Europe had been received. Yet at KanÓ he had arranged to pay his servants, discharge his debts, and renew his credits, long since exhausted. He pledged the little property remaining to him, including his revolver, until he could obtain the cutlery and four hundred dollars left at Zindu; but, alas! these had disappeared during recent intestine commotions. KanÓ must always be unhealthy for Europeans; and Dr. Barth, in his enfeebled condition, acutely felt the ill effects of its climatic conditions. His horses and camels fell ill, and he lost, among others, the noble animal which for three years had shared all his fatigues.

Over every difficulty, every obstacle, that splendid energy which had carried the great explorer to the Niger and TimbuktÚ ultimately prevailed; and on the 24th of November he set out for KÚkÁwa. In his absence it had been the theatre of a revolution. A new ruler held the reins of government, and Dr. Barth was doomed to encounter fresh embarrassments. It was not until after a delay of four months that he was able to resume the journey through the Fezzan. He followed this time the direct route, by Bilma—the route formerly taken by the travellers, Denham and Clapperton.

At the end of August he entered Tripoli, where he spent only four days. By way of Malta he proceeded to Marseilles; and thence to Paris; arriving in London on the 6th of September, 1855.

It may be doubted whether the English public have fully appreciated the labours of this persevering explorer. To us it seems that he occupies a high place in the very front rank of African travellers, in virtue not only of the work he did, but of the courage, perseverance, skill, and energy which he displayed. He failed in nothing that he undertook, though his resources were very limited, and the difficulties in his path of the gravest character. He explored BornÚ, A’damÁwa, and Bagirmi, where no European had ever before penetrated. He surveyed, over an area of six hundred miles, the region which lies between KatsÉna and TimbuktÚ, though even to the Arabs it is the least known portion of the Soudan. He formed friendly relations with the powerful princes on the banks of the Niger, from SokotÓ to the famous city which shuts its gates upon the Christian. Five of his best years he dedicated to this astonishing enterprise, enduring the gravest privations, and braving the most pestilential climates, as well as the most implacable fanaticism. All this he did, without friends, without companions, without money. Of the five brave men who undertook this adventurous expedition, he alone returned; and returned loaded with treasure, with precious materials of all kinds for the use of the man of science or the merchant—with maps, drawings, chronologies, vocabularies, historical and ethnological notes, itineraries, botanical and geological data, and meteorological tables. Nothing escaped his attention; he was not only a traveller and an observer, but a scientific pioneer. Let us give due honour to a Livingstone, but let us not forget the debt we owe to a Barth. [156]