_18th January._—Another bad night. Even now, at Asser, I have not recovered. The Frenchmen, indeed, have paid me a visit, consoled me with empty words, but cast looks at one another, the meaning of which I so well understood that I assured them there was no danger; I should see my brother again, whom I just at this moment missed very much. We sail, on the whole, S.W., see six to seven islands, and approach nearer to the high mountain. This afternoon I saw, on the left, a little gohr, which discharges itself with a strong fall into the river: they tell me, from the mast, that a second one is lost again beyond the right shore. It appears, therefore, to be fed by our water-course, whilst the other is a subordinate arm of the Nile from above, or a tributary stream. Four o’clock. From N.N.W. to E. A large city at some distance from the left shore. An incredible number of people, who go here also quite naked, are dancing and singing on both shores: our course is really a constant triumphant march. The bears on the vessels will half kill themselves with laughing. We have likewise here that sharp piercing cry which we are so frequently compelled to hear in Lower Egypt, at marriages and other festivals of the kind. This “Kullelullullulu” is therefore, perhaps, of Ethiopian origin, and recalls involuntarily to our mind the descent of tribes from the Highlands. To the right of the city a small island follows, and a pretty wood extends over the margin of the river. Half-past four o’clock. On the right and left an island; and notwithstanding the breadth of the river, we have still a good water-course, which has increased here in rapidity, a sure sign that we shall come at least to higher regions. The poison-tree is still abundant, and does not seem to be considered dangerous even by these people of free nature; we see it even standing close to their huts. It is not yet sun-set. There is singing, with dancing, and clapping of hands, even far into the water itself,—a truly black joy: the women with their sharp “kulle,” the men with their bass voices, the boys with their treble, and the barking of dogs between whiles, so that I can scarcely hold my pen, and know not where to fly to for peace. They drag calves behind them, and swim towards us, whereby the greatest part of the glass beads thrown to them fall into the water, and there is a monstrous noise and splashing in picking them up. I was sorry for the beautifully-formed young girls, who went away empty-handed in this crowding and wrestling of thousands. With the most amiable countenance they pointed to their necks, shewing that they had no beads there. They were all laughing and in good spirits, and shouted to us “Màdam!” said to be a title of honour.