the melancholy dirges which the Dugganah women were singing over their dead husbands, really so musically piteous, that it was almost impossible not to sympathize in their affliction. The Dugganah, from being the humblest of allies, now became rather dictatorial, and told the general very plainly that they could fight better without him than with him: they refused him both bullocks and sheep, and said they must keep them to pay the ransom of their people. Amanook, who it seems had no idea of following up his victory by an attack on our camp, which he might have done successfully, and carried off all the chiefs, siriahs, and camels, sent word this evening that he would now treat with nobody but the sheikh himself; that he had declared to the general, before he attacked him, that he feared no one but God, the Prophet, and the sheikh, and wished for peace: “They would not listen to me,” said he, “but attempted to take by force what was their master’s before; for all we had was the sheikh’s, and is still. By God’s help my people overcame them, but that is nothing; I am to the sheikh, in point of strength, as an egg is to a stone: if he wishes peace, and will no more molest me in my wilds, peace be with us—I will give up his people, his horses, and his arms, that have fallen into my hands; if not, I will keep them all, and may be add to their number. We are not easily beaten: by the head of the Prophet, I can and will, if I am forced, turn fish, and fly to the centre of the water; and if the sheikh comes himself against me, I will bring Waday against him.” July 8.—The chiefs all refused to withdraw their forces on this offer of Amanook: they sent word that he was not to be depended on, so often had he deceived them. Nothing but an unconditional return of all the spoil would satisfy them. In a long conversation which I had with Barca Gana, whose wound was now fast healing from the dressing of burnt fat and sulphur, which I had applied, he assured me that they should not make another attempt on this bold chieftain: he, however, advised my returning to Kouka. “The excursion,” said he, “you wish to make was always dangerous, it is now impracticable; we must wait for the sheikh’s appearance before we can do any thing, and I think, from the advanced state of the season, as the rains have now begun to fall, you will find that the sheikh will not come, and that we shall all return.”