[Footnote 57: An intelligent Moor of Mesurata again told me, this water was the same as the Nile; and when I asked him how that could be, when he knew that we had traced it into the Tchad, which was allowed to have no outlet, he replied, “Yes, but it is nevertheless _Nile water-sweet_.” I had before been asked if the Nile was not in England; and subsequently, when my knowledge of Arabic was somewhat improved, I became satisfied that these questions had no reference whatever to the Nile of Egypt, but merely meant running water, sweet water, from its rarity highly esteemed by all desert travellers.] [Footnote 58: Each time Barca Gana had encompassed the lake, he had with him a force of from four hundred to eight hundred cavalry; the passage of a river, therefore, or running stream, could never have escaped his observation.] [Footnote 59: The following lines may be taken as a sample, at least, if not a literal translation, of their poetical sketches on these ocean meetings. THE Arab rests upon his gun, His month of labour scarce begun Of passing deserts drear: Straining his eyes along the sand, He fancies in the mist, a band Of plunderers appear. Again he thinks of home and tribe, Of parents, and his Arab bride Betrothed from earliest years: Then high above his shaven head, The gun that fifty had left dead Rallies his comrade’s fears. “Yeolad boo! yeolad boo! “Sons of your fathers! which of you “Will shun the fight and fly?” They rush towards him, bright in arms, Thus calming all his false alarms By promising to die. The sounds of men, as objects near, Strike on the listening Arab’s ear Laid close upon the sand: He hears his native desert song, And plunges forth his friends among To seize the proffered hand. Asalam? Asalam? from every mouth; What cheer? what cheer? from north and south, Each earnestly demands: And dates and water, desert fare, While all their news of home declare, Are spread upon the sands. But, soon! too soon! the kaf’las move; They separate again, to prove How desolate the land! Yet, parting slow, each seeks delay, And dreading still the close of day, They press each other’s hand.] [Footnote 60: She was taken prisoner in an expedition against the people of Khalifa Belgassum, in the Gibel, by Bey Mohamed, who, though in love with her himself, was obliged to give her up to his father, who was struck with her _eyun kebir_ (large eyes). She also loved the bey, but was obliged to give herself to the bashaw. This is said to have been the cause of the first disagreement with his father. She, by her influence, made Belgassum, her old master, kaid over eight provinces.]