On the day after, we reached a well, within ten miles of Tripoli; and previous to arriving there, were met by two chaoushes of the bashaw, with one of the consul’s servants: we found the consul’s tents, but he had been obliged to return on business to the city; and the satisfaction with which we devoured some anchovy toasts, and washed them down with huge draughts of Marsala wine, in glass tumblers—luxuries we had so long indeed been strangers to—was quite indescribable. We slept soundly after our feast, and on the 26th of January, a few miles from our resting-place, were met by the consul and his eldest son, whose satisfaction at our safe return seemed equal to our own. We entered Tripoli the same day, where a house had been provided for us. The consul sent out sheep, bread, and fruit, to treat all our fellow-travellers; and cooking, and eating, and singing, and feasting, were kept up by both slaves and Arabs, until morning revealed to their happy eyes, and well filled bellies, the “roseate east,” as a poet would say. We had now no other duties to perform, except the providing for our embarkation, with all our live animals, birds, and other specimens of natural history, and settling with our faithful native attendants, some of whom had left Tripoli with us, and returned in our service: they had strong claims on our liberality, and had served us with astonishing fidelity in many situations of great peril; and if either here or in any foregoing part of this journal it may be thought that I have spoken too favourably of the natives we were thrown amongst, I can only answer, that I have described them as I found them, hospitable, kind-hearted, honest, and liberal: to the latest hour of my life I shall remember them with affectionate regard; and many are the untutored children of nature in central Africa, who possess feelings and principles that would do honour to the most civilized Christian. A determination to be pleased, if possible, is the wisest preparatory resolution that a traveller can make on quitting his native shores, and the closer he adheres to it the better: few are the situations from which some consolation cannot be derived with this determination; and savage, indeed, must be that race of human beings from whom amusement, if not interesting information, cannot be collected. Our long absence from civilized society appeared to have an effect on our manner of speaking, of which, though we were unconscious ourselves, occasioned the remarks of our friends: even in common conversation, our tone was so loud as almost to alarm those we addressed; and it was some weeks before we could moderate our voices so as to bring them in harmony with the confined space in which we were now exercising them.