I rode nearly the whole of this day with Min Ali Tahar, the Gundowy Tibboo sheikh, who was accompanying us to Bornou: he had some little difference with the sheikh, of whom he was perfectly independent, and Boo Khaloom, ever politic, undertook to make up the misunderstanding; thereby not only showing his influence, but securing, in a manner, the future friendship of Tahar, whose district was always considered as the most dangerous part of the Tibboo country on the road to Mourzuk. Tahar was a sharp, intelligent fellow, spoke a little Arabic, and had often asked me many questions about my country, and my sultan; but to-day he was more inquisitive than usual.—“Rais Khaleel,” said he, “what would your sultan do to Min Ali, if he was to go to England? Would he kill me, or keep me there a prisoner? I should like to be there for about a month.” I answered, “Certainly neither one nor the other: he would be much more inclined to make you a handsome present, and send you back again.” Min Ali. “Oh! I should take him something; but what could I give him? nothing but the skins of a dozen ostriches, some elephants’ teeth, and a lion’s skin.” Ans. “The value of the present could be of no importance to my sultan; he would look at the intention: befriend his people—remember the Inglezi that you have seen; and should any more ever find their way to your tents, give them milk and sheep, and put them in the road they are going: promise me to do this, and I can almost promise you, that my sultan shall send you a sword, such a one as Hateeta had on my return, without your going to England, or giving him any thing.” Min Ali. “Is he such a man? Barak Allah! What’s his name?” “George.” “George! Health to George; much of it! _Salam Ali: George Yassur_. Tell him, Min Ali Tahar wishes him all health and happiness; that he is a Tibboo who can command a thousand spears, and fears no man. Is he liberal? Is his heart large? _Gulba Kebir_. Does he give presents to his people?” “Very much so, indeed; some of his people think him too generous.” Min Ali. “By the head of my father! _Raas el Booe!_ they are wrong; the sultan of a great people should have a large heart, or he is unworthy of them. Who will succeed him when he dies?” “His brother.” “What is his name?” “Frederick.” “_Barak Allah!_ I hope he will be like George, _matlook_, liberal. _Salem Ali! Frederick._ Health to Frederick! How many wives have they?” “No Englishman has more than one,” said I. “_A gieb! a gieb!_ Wonderful! wonderful! why they should have a hundred.” “No! no! we think that a sin,” replied I. “Wallah! really (literally, by G—!) why I have four now; and I have had more than sixty. Her I like best, however, always says, one would be more lawful: she may be right. You say she is. You are a great people. I see you are a great people, and know every thing. I, a Tibboo, am little better than a gazelle.”