The first four days of our journey, after leaving Agutifa, were all dreariness and misery. This was the third time that I passed these deserts: but no familiarity with the scenery at all relieves the sense of wretchedness which the dread barrenness of the place inspires. We marched from dawn until dark, for the sake of getting over them as quickly as possible; and as scarcely sufficient fuel was to be found to boil a little water, a mess of cold tumuta was usually our supper. On leaving Tingazeer, we had the blessing of a rainy day; for such it was to all, but particularly to the poor negroes who accompanied the kafila, although Boo-Khaloom always gave them to drink from his skins once in the day (an unusual kindness), yet marching as they were for twelve and fourteen hours, once scarcely satisfied nature. In consequence of the rain, we found water fresh and pure during almost every day’s march, and arrived at Zeghren[5] with the loss of only one camel. On the last day, previous to arriving at the well, Omhul Abeed, a skeleton of a man, with some flesh still hanging about him, lay close to the road; but it was passed by the whole kafila, with scarcely a remark. After these dreary wastes, it was no small pleasure to rest a day at Zeghren, the native town of a considerable merchant who accompanied our kafila. When we first left Sockna for Mourzuk, Abdi Zeleel had before taken me to his house, and presented me to his mother and sister; and he now insisted on my taking up my quarters there altogether. Almost the first person that presented herself was my friend the merchant’s sister, I had almost said the fair, Omhal Henna[6]. She had a wooden bowl of haleeb (fresh milk) in her hand, the greatest rarity she could offer, and holding out the milk with some confusion towards me with both her hands, the hood which should have concealed her beautiful features had fallen back; as my taking the milk from her would have prevented the amicable salutation we both seemed prepared for, and which consisted of four or five gentle pressures of the hand, with as many _aish harlecks_, and _tiebs_, and _ham-dulillahs_, she placed the bowl upon the ground, while the ceremonies of greeting, which take a much longer time in an African village than in an English drawing-room, were, by mutual consent, most cordially performed. I really could not help looking at her with astonishment, and I heartily wish that I had the power of conveying an idea of her portrait. It was the _Jemma_ (Friday), the Sabbath, and she was covered, for I cannot call it dressed, with only a blue linen barracan, which passed under one arm, and was fastened on the top of the opposite shoulder with a silver pin, the remaining part thrown round the body behind, and brought over her head as a sort of hood, which, as I remarked, had fallen off, and my having taken her hand when she set down the milk had prevented its being replaced. This accident displayed her jet black hair in numberless