and my men and I feasted merrily on boiled turnips, while several “true believers” went to bed supperless,—and the infidel and his wicked associates filled themselves with the offerings of the pious. This was by no means the first time on the journey that my knowledge—slight though it is—of Islam and its traditions stood me in good stead, and I am proud to say that wherever I spent a night I left behind me an impression of extreme religious fervour—which must have been sadly upset on my return journey, when, protected by a strong guard against insult or attack, I made my nationality and my disguise known. But of this I shall have more to say anon. Leaving the _ksor_ of Aït Mulai Brahim before dawn on November 14, we entered, close by, the gorge through which the Wad Imiteghr flows. It is only a mile and a half in length, and ends just as abruptly as it commences. No doubt its formation is owing to the river having forced its way through the projecting spur of Jibel Saghru, which is now separated by this valley from the main chain. The gorge is known by the name of Imin Erkilim—_imin_ (Arabic _fûm_) meaning “a mouth,” while Erkilim may or may not be Hercules, for on my inquiries as to who Erkilim was, I was told that Erkili was a great man, a sort of god, who did something no one quite knew when. From the name given me being Erkili, I presume the final _m_ to distinguish the genitive case; but this is merely a surmise. One emerges from the narrow valley, with its cliffs of rock on either hand, close to the village of Aït bu Kanifen, the inhabitants of which are celebrated robbers, often attacking any caravan that may chance to use this route in the valley the end of which their _ksor_ commands. A few hundred yards of desert beyond and we entered the luxuriant palm-groves of Tiluin, or Aït Iluin, where is a large and flourishing _ksar_. These were the first palm-trees we had come across since Askura, for at Dads and the other oasis we had passed through they were entirely absent. Issuing from the pleasant shade of the groves, we crossed again a couple of miles of desert, at the termination of which we entered the southern extremity of the oasis of Todghrá, the immense palm-groves of which were clearly visible winding for many miles up the river of the same name. It is close to this spot that the Wad Imiteghr empties itself into the Todghrá at an elevation of 4250 feet above the sea-level.