_Saturday, October 12._—Having thus obtained a glance into the interior of the town, I was anxious to get a view of the whole of it, and ascending, the following morning, the terrace of our house, obtained my object entirely, the whole town being spread out before my eyes, with the exception of the eastern quarter. The town is built on a level, which is only interrupted by small hills formed of rubbish heaped up in the midst of it by the negligence of the people. Excepting these, the line formed by the flat-terraced houses is interrupted only by the mesállaje (which formed my basis for laying down the plan of the town), besides about fifty or fifty-five dwellings raised to two storeys, and by three dúm-trees and five or six talha-trees. Our house also had been originally provided with an upper storey, or rather with a single garret—for generally the upper storey consists of nothing else; but it had yielded to time, and only served to furnish amusement to my foolish friend Mohammed, who never failed, when he found me on the terrace, to endeavour to throw me down the breach. Our old close-handed friend Ánnur did not seem to care much for the appearance of his palace in the town, and kept his wife here on rather short allowance. By-and-by, as I went every day to enjoy this panorama, I was able to make a faithful view of the western quarter of the town as seen from hence, which gives a more exact idea of the place than any verbal description could do. About noon the amanókal sent his musicians to honour me and my companions with a performance; they were four or five in number, and were provided with the instruments usual in Sudán, in imitation of the Arabs. More interesting was the performance of a single “maimólo,” who visited us after we had honourably rewarded the royal musicians, and accompanied his play, on a three-stringed “mólo,” or guitar, with an extemporaneous song.