I have now been in Khartum over a week and find it most interesting. In coming to it, I rode for hours and hours through the sands and rocks of Nubia, and it was not until I was within a few miles of Halfaya that I saw signs of vegetation. The train then entered a region of thorn bushes ten or fifteen feet high; farther on patches of grass bleached by the sun were to be seen, and closer still other evidences of cultivation. The Arabs were digging out the thorn bushes on the edge of the desert and stacking them up in piles for fuel. There were a few animals grazing on the scanty grass. Out of such dull and cheerless desert surroundings rises a city of green. All along the river, for a distance of more than two miles, runs a wide avenue shaded by trees and backed by buildings and private houses in beautiful gardens. From one end of it to the other this avenue is a succession of parks. It begins with the botanical and zoölogical gardens, where all the trees of the tropical and sub-tropical regions grow luxuriantly and where one may see the soap tree, the monkey-bread tree, and other curious examples of Sudanese flora. There are several lions and tigers in the garden, and there is also a mighty giraffe which I photographed this afternoon as he was taking a bite out of a branch at the height of a two-story house. Next to the zoölogical garden is the Grand Hotel, a long, bungalow-shaped structure shaded by date palms, while beyond are the two-story homes of many officials, all well shaded. The first public building on this avenue is the post and telegraph office. Beyond it are the offices of the Military Bureaus with public gardens behind them. Directly on the river and in front of a wonderful garden is the great white palace in which the Governor-General of the Sudan lives and has his offices. Farther along the avenue are the Sudan Club and the hospital. Away at the south rise the large buildings of the Gordon Memorial College, with the British barracks at the end of the street. On the edge of the river are the inevitable _sakiehs_ raising the water to the tune of their monotonous creakings. They start at seven o’clock every morning. Their wheels are never greased and as they move they screech and groan and sigh. There is one in front of the Grand Hotel which serves as my alarm clock, for sleep is murdered at the moment it begins. In Khedive Avenue, which runs parallel with the embankment, is a statue by E. Onslow Ford, of General Gordon on an Indian camel. So far as I know this is the world’s only camelestrian statue. It is a work of fine art and full of the spirit of the famous hero it represents.