When we came to the shore we found our two men in a state of great excitement. As soon as the guns were fired a hippopotamus that had been asleep about ten yards from them sprang up, and rushed into the water, snorting. The beast had nearly frightened them out of their wits. Looking at the path I had followed after landing I saw that I must have passed within a yard of the place where the hippo lay. The men now drew my attention to something in a tree, but I could not discern at first what they were pointing out. After peering for three or four minutes I saw a pair of gleaming eyes above a branch in the deep shade. I fired with number four shot—the only size I had—at a distance of about ten yards, and down came a civet cat. It was hit in the head and dead, when I picked it up. We tried our luck with the fish while the men paddled us back to camp, but caught nothing. I set about preserving the skin of the cat after lunch, rubbed some arsenical soap well in, and packed the hide in an empty cigarette tin. It was brought to England in good condition. While I was busy in this way, my comrades were taking soundings of the lake from the boat. Later we went out together with our guns, and added two bustards, three partridges, and a quail to the stock in the larder. During the day, whenever I was in camp, I was importuned by patients; many had trivial ailments, and others troubles, such as chronic ophthalmia, which I certainly could not cure during a three days’ sojourn at Delgi. If they judged that I was not sufficiently moved by the account which they gave at first of their malady, they described what they suffered from another, and a fictitious one. Thus, if I told a man who had chronic ophthalmia that I could not help him, he would remain to declare that he was consumptive, or that his feet needed treatment. They became so tiresome at last that I was thankful for the prospect of resuming the march next day. It seems to be taken for granted in all countries that a doctor ought to be more long-suffering than any other person. On the morning of the 10th I received, by Abyssinian post, a letter which had been despatched from Port Said on November 25, the day on which I left Cairo. It reached me by a roundabout road; for it had been to Wady Halfa, Berber, Kassala, Sennaar, and Gallabat. I was surprised that it came to hand. The postman was a Soudanese black, and, when we met him, he was on the return journey to Gallabat bearing some official communication. These couriers carry before them—like a wand of office—a long cane, which is split at the top. The “mail” is inserted in the orifice. The cane is a badge that is respected, and I was told that the letter-carriers are never stopped. They amble along at a steady jog-trot, and cover a great deal of ground in a day.