“All very well;” I replied; “but where is the poet who can sing about his love to you, incorrigible thieves as you are? Just mind then what you are about for the future, and try to show that you are not unworthy of your great ancestors.” The next day was again employed in unrelaxed endeavours to penetrate the grass-bound channels. The patches of papyrus became at once more frequent and more extensive, and here once again, after being long missed, is found the genuine Nile reed, the “shary” of the ancient Egyptians—the same as the soof of the Bible—which always grows on the shores of the mainland. Somewhat strangely the prevailing river-grass in the upper waters, the _Vossia procera_, is called in Arabic “Om-Soof,” the mother of wool. This appellation it derives from the peculiar hairy character of its leaf-sheaths. These have the disagreeable quality of covering the entire bodies of those who may be at work in the grass with a thick down of adhesive bristles. The sharpness of these and the scratches they inflict increase the irksomeness of the daily labour at the grass barrier. Still the great prairies amidst which the flood pursues its course afford an inexhaustible pasturage; cattle, sheep, and horses, all graze upon them, and no herbage is there that they prefer to the “Om-Soof.” At the close of the day, we again arrived in open water, and laid up for the night by the left bank, which presented a wide steppe entirely bare of trees. Up with the sun, with sails hoisted with a moderate breeze in our favour, off we were on the following morning; short-lived, however, was our propitious start. Too soon the open water branched out into a labyrinth of channels, and the bewildered navigators lost all clue as to the actual direction of the stream. The projections of the green islets were always crowned with huge clumps of papyrus, which here grows in detached masses. It probably delights most in quiet waters, and so does not attain to the form of a high unbroken hedge, as on the upper banks of the Gazelle, for here, on account of the numerous stoppages, the stream flows through the narrow channels with extraordinary violence. The strength of the stream often makes towing impracticable, and the sailors often have considerable difficulty in sailing through it to the papyrus bushes, when they want to attach to their solid stems the ropes which are thrown out from their boats. This was the way in which we from sheer necessity sustained the resistance of the current. The depth of the channel was quite sufficient in itself to allow us to proceed, as our vessels drew only three feet of water; but the passage had become so contracted that at sunset we fastened ourselves to the papyrus-stems, quite despairing of ever being able to make further progress in this direction. [Sidenote: HIPPOPOTAMUSES.]