The inoffensive livid-coloured negroes accompanied the Tershomàn on board the vessel where we were,—they were five in number, two old men, and three young ones: they made gestures, in their perplexedness, bending forward in the attitude of apes. I remarked on the two old men short grey hairs in the ashes on their heads, but there was not a single hair to be discovered on the bodies of the young men. They were naked, and had leathern and iron rings on their wrists, as well as adorned round their necks with rings made of skins. With uplifted hands they greeted us humbly, and screeched with a fearful voice, “Tebing conjegò,” which one sang, and then “Tebing conjegorarèmemm” was repeated in chorus, and so often that I was nearly stunned with the noise. The leader of the choir was the son of Abù: and this word seems here to denote “elder of a family,” or Sheikh. He was called Tshòli, and his village Dim; he was therefore Tshòli-Dim, of the nation of the Keks. His son, Gilowaï, was exceedingly delighted when he heard us pronounce his name, and screamed it, as if he were mad, in our ears. The others were called Rialkoï, Panjàil, and Ialkoï. Red calico shirts were put on the father and son; but, owing to their uncommon height, they did not entirely cover their nakedness. This naturally vexed them but little, and perhaps, if it had been otherwise, it would have incommoded them: they viewed the beautiful flowers on these shirts, pointed with their fingers at them, and were very much pleased. White shirts were put over the heads of the others; and this was no little labour, although they were simply made according to the Turkish cut; for these men moved their arms here and there, and could not reconcile themselves to such splendour, which perhaps was afterwards consumed in fire and smoke on the nearest ashes. But when the glass beads were produced, then came the joy, the singing, and shrieking without end; they uttered the resounding words with which they praised us with as much force as if there had been the most horrible strife. Looking-glasses at last were given to them; and they could not at first distinguish their faces, owing to the shadow; but when they found how to hold them at the proper distance, they were always looking behind them to see where their black brother might be. Yet the _possession_ of these shining toys was dearer to them than the _use_ of them, or the pleasure of looking at themselves for an hour long in the glass, as the Turks do. They must take a similar delight, only in a greater degree, in looking in the water; and therefore their astonishment was not so great: they even asked what they were used for. Whereupon Suliman Kashef took a glass in his hand and smoothed his beautiful beard by it: they understood, and laughed. Their train of ideas was not guided, indeed, by philosophical reflections at this sight, or they certainly would not have laughed at our vanity, for they themselves, beyond