December 21.—To my inexpressible delight, Karouash came with intelligence that a small kafila had arrived at Woodie from Mourzuk, that an Englishman accompanied them, and that this was followed by another, a more numerous one, which they had quitted at Zow. The following was a day of great anxiety; and on the 23d instant, very soon after daylight, I was overjoyed at seeing, instead of Mr. Tyrwhit, whose bodily infirmities made me always consider his joining me doubtful, a robust, healthy-looking young man, with a double-barrelled gun slung at his back. When he presented himself at the door of my hut, his very countenance was an irresistible letter of introduction, and I opened the packages which were to account for his appearance with considerable eagerness. Mr. Tyrwhit, I found, had been prevented by sickness from profiting by the consul’s recommendation; and that on application being made to the governor of Malta for a substitute, Mr. Toole, an ensign in the 80th regiment, had volunteered to join me, and left Malta at twenty hours’ notice. He had made the long, dangerous, and difficult journey from Tripoli to Bornou, in the short space of three months and fourteen days, having left that place on the 6th of September; and overcoming all obstacles by perseverance and resolution, both at Mourzuk and in the Tibboo country, had arrived here with only the loss of five camels. The arrival of this kafila with Mr. Toole, and the supplies which he brought, gave a most favourable turn to my situation at Kouka. I had now money, health, and a desirable companion: even an attack might lead to our pursuing an enemy, and by that means getting out of the sheikh’s dominions; and “God send the fair goddess, deep in love with us,” was our constant prayer, as, on the least favourable opportunity offering, I had determined to make a start in one direction or another. At one time, indeed, Pandora’s sealed casket seemed literally to have burst over our heads,—strife, war, famine, falsehood, and a thousand other evils, surrounded us. Still, however, hope remained in the box; so did we attach ourselves to this never-failing sheet-anchor, and despondency took wing as we abandoned ourselves without reserve to the sympathies she inspired. Jan. 3, 1824.—My friend Tirab, the Shouaa generalissimo, had long promised to kill me an elephant, as he expressed himself; and this day, about noon, a messenger came to our huts, saying, that, after hunting an enormous male elephant for five hours, they had at length brought him to a stand, near Bree, about ten miles north-east of Kouka. Mr. Toole and myself instantly mounted our horses, and, accompanied by a Shouaa guide, we arrived at the spot where he had fallen, just as he breathed his last. Although not more than twenty-five years old, his tusk measuring barely four feet six inches, he was an immense fellow. His dimensions were as under: ft. in.