The Baggara Arabs possess the wide district which extends from Kordofan and Darfur on the south, as far as the river banks inhabited by the Dinka and Shillooks. Part of them—indeed, in the east, a third of them—pay tribute to Egypt. The name Baggara means “neatherds,” and indeed their wealth consists simply of cattle; they are not, however, shepherds, as they are represented in the idylls of home, but mounted and warlike from their youth; they are bolder robbers than any other of the Ethiopian nomad races. They bring down elephants with lance and sword, a feat scarcely less free from risk than playing with lions and leopards as though they were kittens. Many of them hire themselves out to the Khartoomers to accompany their expeditions to the interior. Several came to offer their services to me, under the impression that my object was the capture of slaves. I confess that I could hardly restrain my admiration when I gazed upon their athlete, agile forms, although I had no call for their services. The Baggara speak a tolerably pure Soudan-Arabic; they seem to extend themselves rapidly as an immigrant tribe over the pasture steppes, at the expense of other and less favoured races. Their countenances betray little of the Semitic expression, and I saw not a few whose physiognomy reminded me of some of my old friends at home. I can confidently maintain that they form the finest race of the nomad people dwelling on the Nile. I could not help being surprised at the love of ornament and finery which was manifested by this race, advanced as it is. The clothing of the generality consists of indigo-blue shirts, such as are worn by the peasants of Egypt, whilst the more wealthy array themselves in robes of scarlet and figured calico. On the other shore I visited the mountain, which is almost contiguous to the river. Growing here I first found the tamarind, which never failed me more throughout my entire wanderings. The thick shade of these bright green trees makes them a favourite rendezvous on all the roads of Central Africa. Every traveller in the Soudan can scarce be otherwise than quite familiar with the Hegelig (_Balanites_), of which, like plums, the fruit falls off and thickly strews the ground below. By the people of Khartoom it is called Lalôb. It contains a sweetish pulp, tasting at first like gingerbread, but it leaves a bitter taste behind, and is purgative in its properties. [Sidenote: MOUNT NYEMATI.]