The country through which we passed was similar to that which we had seen on the previous day. It is perfectly fertile. We had left the sand and mimosa scrub behind us, and were in a well-wooded region, with abundant undergrowth of bushes. The open ground is covered by grass which grows to a height of nine feet in the rainy season, but was now dried and matted under foot. It supplies pasturage for cattle, and I saw a herd of kine grazing on it. They were in fine condition. I handed my mug to the herdsman and asked him for some milk. He gave it to me willingly, and I thought it the best I had tasted since I left England in 1899. It seemed to me that this district offered a valuable field to British capital and enterprise. I extract from my diary the following unsystematic notes, with an apology to the reader:—The butterflies which I saw most frequently on the journey were the clouded yellow and the red tip. The brimstone and painted yellow are seen occasionally. The familiar cabbage white is found on the banks of the river. I heard no singing bird except the chaffinch, but I saw a pair of blackbirds, tits of many kinds, and fly-catchers. A long-tailed species, which is a little smaller than a ring-dove, is very common. It was called “albicora” by our black boys. [Illustration: THE WELCOME AT ABOU HARRAS. _See p._ 13.] CHAPTER II We did not expect to receive a public welcome at Abou Harras, and were thoroughly surprised when the entire village, on the morning of the 12th, turned out to give us a reception. Women and men bore down on us, dancing and clapping their hands to a hideous accompaniment of tomtoms and drums. Many of them leaped and capered in the craziest fashion to emphasize the display of pleasure at our arrival. The women and children expressed their delight by a peculiar tremolo cry, which reminded me of that heard in Lower Egypt at marriage festivals.[7] One old man came on at a leisurely pace giving an exhibition of sword-play in our honour. He afterwards delivered a panegyric of the English, declaring that they were the saviours of his country, that the children of the Soudanese were now no longer torn from them, and so forth. I found that the young men were almost all absent from the village, doing military service on the Abyssinian frontier; the women who came out to show their delight officially by their shrilling were “the girls they left behind them.” This singular deputation had not approached very near, and presently retired a little way. Some of the slower movements of those who took part in the ceremony were by no means ungraceful, but the din was indescribably discordant. I went to inspect the procession at close quarters, supposing that it would shortly withdraw and disperse. But the “music” continued for fully an hour and a half, and it was more difficult to endure patiently during the latter part of the time as we were all busily writing letters for the homeward mail.