We have been hitherto going on in a quiet, jog-trot way enough, almost forgetting that the desert has perils, and that we are not in a civilised land. Now comes something to awaken us out of this dream of comfort. A courier has arrived from Ghât, bringing the news that one Sidi Jafel Waled Sakertaf, the great man of the oasis of Janet--on which we have been speculating so pastorally--is preparing to come out and intercept our passage to Soudan, near the well of Tajetterat. This pleasant intelligence came to us in a letter from Hateetah and Jabour, who, however, philosophically add that they are not quite sure it is correct. I rewarded the courier with five reals, and sent him off to Waled Shafou and the Sultan with the news; begging the former to meet us certainly at Falezlez, which is about four days from this, whilst Tajetterat is nearly eight. Janet is now only a day and a-half south-south-west from our encampment. It is a small oasis, inhabited by Moors and Tuaricks. The statistics of the place begin to interest us exceedingly. We are told that there is a good deal of corn grown there, on account of the abundance of water. Sidi Jafel Waled Sakertaf--whose voluminous name we found it quite easy to learn under these circumstances--is cousin of the Sultan Shafou, and a very old man; but we cannot hope that in these frugal regions the gout will interfere in our favour, and put a stop to this unprovoked foray. The weather has been cool to-day. We are on high ground, although in a wady; and this renders the heat very supportable. The reported attack keeps our minds occupied, and has a little upset us; but no one talks of flinching. Besides, this has not been the first alarm, nor will it be the last. I sent an account of this circumstance so far to Lord Palmerston by the courier; and should have written much more, had not I been occupied with the news and with the Kailouees, who have chosen this occasion to be troublesome. We do not get so much information, by the way, out of these people as we might expect; they do not know the names of the wadys and rocks hereabouts, and so pretend they have none. The hundred dollars which we brought from Mourzuk are now nearly all gone--I have only eight or ten left. Friend Sidi Jalef Waled Sakertaf--how unmusical the name sounds!--will get little money from us, and must content himself with our baggage, if he will play the robber. For the cousin of a Sultan, fie!