What fables are told of the incredible luxuriance of the tropical kingdom of plants! At all events it could only be said of aquatic plants which are forced by water, evaporation, and sunshine, as if by steam or chemical preparations; but then only in the rainy season and a few weeks beyond. I saw, indeed, trees shooting forth at this time in Taka, which boiling and cauldron-shaped valley may perhaps contain a tropical growth, or something like it; and plants springing up from the morass with incredible celerity and luxuriance, as if by magic. But trees that have true manly vigour, and strive to shoot out with sound strong muscles, whose pith is still clearly to be seen in the bark, with not a bough injured,—not a branch hanging down withered,—these are sought for in vain in the Tropics, so far as I have seen. We can form a tolerable idea of the momentary life and vigour there by comparing in Europe, acacias, planes, and poplars, on suitable soil; it is the most cheerful awakening after a long repose: but part of the limbs always continues in a sleep-like death, whether it be under the bark of the stem, or a bough that the sun scorches, or a runner become dry, which disfigures the whole tree. A forest requires care, either by the fortuitous kindness of Nature herself; or, when that is not sufficient, by the directing hand of man. The omnipotence of the terrestrial womb of fruits is past,—that which gave previously the magic of lovely green to the coming species, without any visible seeds of themselves. Half-past eleven o’clock, S.E.—It has just rained a little;—what anxiety and fear of rain these half-naked coloured people shew; what care they display in preparing immediately a tent to sit under! I have very often remarked this; rain must therefore make a sensible impression on their hot skin. Twelve o’clock, E.S.E. We see at the distance on the left towards the horizon, solitary dhellèbs as usual on elevated ground; and also isolated little groups of Shilluks. Narrow tracks of water right and left, which not long ago were flowing cheerfully. The river has also gradually laid aside its terraces in preceding times, until it has limited itself to its present bed; and those parts of the shore, lying higher are only just moistened, even when it is at its highest water-mark. It would be interesting to follow these old river-beds in the ascending line at the side, and to arrive at the dams of the primitive stream, or at the higher circumvallation which surrounded the lake here at one time. A quarter after one o’clock.—On the right a gohr cul-de-sac, low bushes to S.E., called by the very same name as the Haba; on the left solitary trees and straw huts of the herdsmen. At two—on the right, another gohr cul-de-sac,—to E. We sail E.N.E, and wind, for the first time since the morning, to the left: a track of water in the shape of a terrace, just there, from half a foot to a foot higher than our level. A