To follow the shore of the river, and to define the limits of the bed of the White Stream, over which it here and there rolls, the principal thing would be to follow the line of the villages and old trees, for these determine the peculiar marks of high water, elevated by the river itself. From this high water we might, perhaps, be able to ascertain the mean breadth of the river. But such a difficult journey by land will be certainly, for a long time, an intricate problem. The Turks themselves have also here, without perhaps wishing it, failed in the first impression; so that from “children of heaven” they have become “white devils,” in the eyes of the people. Therefore we see on every side pillars of smoke ascending, which are to be considered as signals of approaching danger, according to the statement of our heroes; whilst the kindled reed-straw, or the high grass of the savannah prairies, spreads its smoke _horizontally_. Innumerable birds are perched round, in the ambaks; among them a number of turtle-doves are cooing very peaceably, reminding me more of the great Campo in Constantinople than of the lower shores of the Nile. Ten o’clock. Fadl told me, from the mast, that firm land was approaching the shore from both sides. It was not long before we perceived, whilst making three miles’ course, some tokuls also on the left shore, part of them appearing to be of peculiar size. We see also, in the middle of the reeds, on small eminences, two such huts, said to serve fishermen for temporary abodes. Four men and a woman make signs, or greet us, by raising up their arms high in the air; but even with the best will, we are not able to force our way to them, although they may have something we could pillage. Nevertheless, the right shore retreats again, and we distinguish only the palms of the last-mentioned village. We continue S.S.E., and as the right shore goes back towards S.E., the left shore approaches nearer with S.W. by S. The stream is now more than 400 paces broad; its water is still very dark, and the broad reeds, with the other aquatic plants, present such a verdant appearance, that it is quite refreshing; and they shoot forth with such vigour, that we imagine we see them growing. It is eleven o’clock. The N.E. wind has again slackened. Our direction is S.E. The water is stagnant in the reeds, not only shut out by them from the current, but also kept back from the stream, which, notwithstanding the narrowness of its bed, has only one mile in rapidity. An influx of this stagnant water into the narrow river-bed can only, therefore, take place according to the proportion in which the stream gradually runs off, and is absorbed into this, its bed.