the night, gave him rice and tea; after which, to my inexpressible delight, he slept. On the following day we reached Angala, a place of comparative safety, and where we were sure of protection. On passing over the plain which leads to this city, I shot a very large korrigum, a species of antelope, with long annulated horns, nearly as large as a red deer. At Angala we took up our old quarters, at the house of the delatoo; and Mr. Toole, on being told where he was, exclaimed “Thank God! then I shall not die!” And so much better was he for the two following days, that I had great hopes of his recovery: about four o’clock, however, on the morning of the 26th of February, those hopes were at an end. A cold shivering had seized him, and his extremities were like ice. I gave him both tea and rice-water; and there was but little alteration in him, until just before noon, when, without a struggle or a groan, he expired, completely worn out and exhausted. The same afternoon, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, I followed his remains to their last resting-place, a deep grave, which six of the sultan of Angala’s slaves had prepared, under my direction, to the north-west of the town, overhung by a clump of mimosas in full blossom. The delatoo, or prime minister, attended the procession with his staff of office, and a silent prayer breathed over all that remained of my departed friend, was the best funeral service circumstances allowed me to perform. After raising over the grave a pile of thorns and branches of the prickly tulloh, several feet high, as a protection against the flocks of hyænas, who nightly infest the burying-places in this country, I returned to the town. In the course of my life, I had seen many of my less fortunate companions pay the great debt of nature—their deaths generally caused by severe and painful battle wounds; but the recollections left on my mind by the calm departure of my amiable and suffering companion exceeded all former ones in acuteness—proving, that in grief, as in pleasure, sensations of the more quiet and gentle kind often make a deeper impression on the heart than those of a fiercer or more violent nature. Not by me alone, however, was he lamented even here; so pleasing were his manners, and so various his acquirements, that his friends and relations have much to regret in his loss; but they may also be proud of having had him for a connexion. Mr. Toole possessed qualifications which rendered him particularly useful on a service of this nature. He was persevering and intrepid, and of a most obliging, cheerful, and kind disposition: only once did he declare his incapability to proceed, and refused to be lashed on the camel; but when I sat down on the ground beside him, and Bellal and the sheikh’s people prepared to leave us, he cried out, “No! no! heed me not: tie me on once more; but, pray, gently: you will not leave me alone! and I shall be the cause of others falling into unnecessary peril.”