While I was reclining in the evening rather mournfully upon my mat, not having been out of the house these last few days, the old friendly blacksmith came up, and invited me to a promenade; and with the greatest pleasure I acceded to the proposal. We left the town by the eastern side, the moon shining brightly, and throwing her magic light over the ruins of this once-wealthy abode of commerce. Turning then a little south, we wandered over the pebbly plain till the voices heard from the encampment of the Kél-geres frightened my companion, and we turned more northwards to the wells in Amelúli; having rested here awhile, we returned to our quarters. [Sidenote: Thursday, October 17th.] Ánnur karamí, our amiable and indolent attendant, left this place for Tintéllust with a note which I wrote to my colleagues, informing them of my safe arrival, my gracious reception, and the general character of the place. To-day the whole town was in agitation in consequence of one of those characteristic events which, in a place like Ágades, serve to mark the different periods of the year; for here a man can do nothing singly, but all must act together. The salt-caravan of the Itísan and Kél-geres had collected, mustering, I was told, not less than ten thousand camels, and had encamped in Mérmeru and Tesak-n-tállem ready to start for the salt-mines of Bilma, along a road which will be indicated further on. However exaggerated the number of the camels might be, it was certainly a very large caravan; and a great many of the inhabitants went out to settle their little business with the men, and take leave of their friends. Ghámbelu, the chief of the Itísan, very often himself accompanies this expedition, in which also many of the Tagáma take a part.