Every one was overjoyed at escaping from the gnats. The sailors swam here and there, but desisted from this vocation when crocodiles appeared in our neighbourhood. There was mad shouting and singing, and the Hippopotami appeared indignant at this noise, for they bellowed in opposition on all sides. Suliman Kashef ordered his men to squat down before the cabin, and sing. Several Arabic songs were chanted, such as that of the Bedoaui (Bedouins), in which there is really a pretty _refrain_. “La Volèt, el Juhm” (O youth the day). The variation of “l’Eli, l’eli” (the night, the night), being in trioles, is adapted to very soft modulations, and is introduced as a melody, awakening the feelings in the same manner as the modern Greek “Mana” (composed from the Turkish “Amàhn,” and denoting a cry for mercy). It is not, however, executed in the horrible and purely barbarian manner of the so-called Hellenes. They had also satirical songs on Melek Kambal and Ahmed Basha: these, however, they were not allowed to sing to the end. Suliman Kashef related anecdotes of his former journeys, and did not seem to think it impossible to overthrow and supplant his friend and countryman Ahmed Basha. He had an old sailor as a jester or Dèli on board, who was obliged to make jokes before the whole crew, and therefore was called Abu Hashis, which means a man who drinks a decoction made of hemp, having the same effect as opium, and who plays the buffoon. Suliman Kashef was very much excited by the liquor. He fired in the air, or at the hippopotami emerging from the water, and had his gun continually loaded. It was really wonderful to see these animals, bellowing on all sides, as if challenging him to the combat. Their time of coition appeared, however, to have set in, and these fearful trombone sounds might have pertained to the period of rutting. Towards evening we had also seen numerous fish bustling about amid the reeds, and heard them the whole night springing up, without thinking of catching them, because they are considered unclean in the coition-season by our Turks and Arabs. A number of green islands, worn off by the floating water colossus from the marshy shore, being driven by the wind, floated by us, and made us believe that we were sailing. There was such a shouting of bad witticisms from the jesters privileged here, that we could not help laughing. If our Abu Hashis failed in his tropes, he was unanimously called “Abu! abu!” and if the chief Abu Hashis of Suliman Kashef was not quiet at this, and went on to make fun of the others with his stentorian voice, he was asked what his Harim consisted of, at which question he always became quiet, not wishing to joke on such a subject.