At last we are again close to the main stream, and near the Island of Buko. At sunset we halt at the right shore S.S.E. We see from hence the trees near which, a few days ago, we lay at anchor by the village of Buko, and also the village itself, but separated from it by land, and our gohr,—the presumed river, winds to the right. The Liènns dwell here; and the interpreter already dismissed, Gùmberi, who had left us in Berize, the capital of the Bambers, came to us again. Clothing appears here to be the privilege only of the chiefs, for Gùmberi was obliged to take off his red shirt, it being against the Ethiopian regulations about dress, and he was asked whether he was a sheikh. (I use here, as throughout my book, the word sheikh of the Arabic language, as the most significant in analogous circumstances.) There are many doum-palms here, especially young copse, upon which the sailors pounce, and take the leaves to make cords of them. I see, to my sorrow, that they do not even spare the narrow convoluted hearts, which are four to five feet long. The leaves are plucked, laid in bundles upon a stone, and worked with a stick, till they are split into fibres; then they are again twisted together, sorted anew, and laid, like coarse hemp, in the sun to dry. The very same process takes place with the inside bark of various trees. I got, subsequently, in the country of the Shilluks, a small handful of flax, which, according to my Tshauss Marian, was prepared from the bark of the Baobàb: this tree is called in the Nuban language, Omràh; its fruit, however, Tabeldi. It is whiter than flax, shining like raw silk, and feels exactly like the latter. _7th February._—The beating of the doum-leaves goes on again at daybreak, as if the crew wanted to acquire enormous treasures by them in Khartùm. It appears as if we shall remain here to-day, on account of the doum-palms and hunting. Our encampment is an old bean-field, from which my servants brought me, in a very short time, a number of beans, quite young, to eat as a salad. Unfortunately I must begin to be sparing of my vinegar, for it is truly welcome to me in these regions, as the most refreshing restorative, although it causes thirst afterwards. I have almost entirely renounced meat, and live principally on coffee, biscuit and uèka. The people cannot subsist without this dried bamie, and therefore my men have laid in a plentiful stock. Rubbed to a meal on the murhaka, I have it boiled to a thick pap, with onions and the pepper of the country, (fillfill bèlladi), and I afterwards pour vinegar over it. I remarked this morning that Arnaud noted 82° atmospheric moisture, although the hygrometer has entirely left off working. I made him comprehend that this was somewhat too much here; he took the thing, however, as a bagatelle, and said that it would rectify itself afterwards!