Friday, 24th March.—I found myself very weak, but much better. Belford continued quite deaf, but we were in high spirits at the idea that our journey would soon be at an end, and that we should once again behold our dear friends. We proceeded at seven, our road being chiefly along the sea-coast. At eleven passed Wad el Ramle, or “the sandy river,” which is a small stream, running through sand hills: on its borders are luxuriant fields of corn. At three the man whom I had sent forward with a letter to the Consul brought me news that he proposed coming out to meet us. At four we entered Tejoura تاجوره. I was on a camel anxiously looking out for him, when himself, his two sons, Dr. Dickson, and Messrs. Carstensen, came galloping towards us. I soon slipped down on my legs, but was obliged to stop them, for they would otherwise have passed on without recognizing either Belford or myself, so much was our appearance altered. We pitched our tent in a space near the great Mosque, and passed the evening most agreeably. The Consul’s sons remained with me, but the rest of the party were obliged to go on to Tripoli, promising to meet me on the morrow, and to accompany me into the town. We had a fine Arab supper cooked by Lizari’s Negress, and were all Kaffirs enough to drink wine, and even to eat some pork, when Lizari was out of the way. Saturday, March 25th, 1820.—Exactly one year from the day we left Tripoli, we re-entered the town, accompanied by the Consul and Mr. Carstensen. All our friends received us most kindly, and I was fortunately enabled on that evening to send a letter to Lord Bathurst, informing his Lordship of our safe return. I lodged our goods in the Portuguese consular house, with which Col. Warrington had kindly accommodated us, though not without having repeatedly pressed us to make his own house our home. Notwithstanding my happiness at once more joining my Christian friends, I really felt no small regret at taking leave of our poor fellow travellers, many of whom I knew were destined to proceed to Tunis and Turkey. Their good humoured gaiety and songs had lightened to me many hours of pain and fatigue, and their gratitude for any little benefits I had it in my power to confer had quite warmed my heart towards them. Even when so exhausted as to be almost unable to walk, these poor creatures showed few instances of sulkiness or despondency; the first stanza of a song having been sung by one, enlivened the whole Kafflé, who immediately joined in chorus. Their patience under fatigue, and endurance of thirst, was very extraordinary. Khalīfa’s girls were allowed to drink only once in twenty-four hours, yet they were always cheerful.