Tobacco is called here also tabac, as mostly on the White River. The Arabs give it the name of dogàhn; this is the small-leaved sort, with dun-coloured flowers, which is cultivated likewise in Bellet Sudàn. I have not seen the tobacco-plant growing wild here; therefore, I cannot say whether the name of tobacco is indigenous here with the plant, or has been introduced by immigrants. Nevertheless, the Arabs are not generally smokers, and it is unlikely that tobacco was brought in by them; and it is less probable, because, had it been so, it would have kept the name of dogàhn. In Sennaar, however, a good but very strong tobacco has been cultivated for ages, and was probably introduced by the Funghs, who are likewise a well-formed negro race. Our usual title of honour is matta, which they, however, only give to the whites. The shores are very extensively intersected with layers of sand. Ten o’clock. S. by E., and then S.W. Two villages on the right shore. We sail with a slight north wind, but scarcely make one mile, for the current is considerably against us. We meet continually with some fire-eaters among the blacks on the shore; they are startled, certainly, at the report, but are not particularly frightened, especially if it be not close to their ears. We have Mount Korèk in a south-westerly direction before us. It stands like the Niakanja, to which we have only come within the distance of from three to four hours, and which lies behind us, isolated from the other mountains. The summit appears flat from where we are; it has many indentations, and seems to rise only about six hundred feet above its broad basis, to which the ground ascends from the river. The wind having nearly ceased for half an hour, freshens again for three miles. At noon. S.S.W. In a quarter of an hour, a gohr or arm of the Nile comes from S. by E.; we make only two miles more, and the wind deserts us again; we lie, therefore, as if stuck to the place, after having been thrown by the current on to the island, formed by the before-named arm on the right shore. But the wind soon freshens again; we sail away cheerfully. The ships drive one against the other, or upon the sand, but work themselves loose again; the negroes come in the water; confusion here—confusion everywhere. A herd of calves stop in the water before us; this is really tempting, but we sail on. The log gives four miles, from which two miles must be deducted for the rapidity of the current, though the reïs can not understand this.