Ásu was formerly a walled town; but the walls at present exhibit the same signs of decay which characterize the whole country. However, the inhabitants, to whom the ferry is a constant source of profit, seemed to be tolerably at their ease. It is this village (which formerly appears to have been of much greater importance) after which the river is sometimes called the river _of_ Ásu; but it ought never to be called the river Ásu. Here also there is an officer or inspector of the ferry, with the title of kashélla[62], the same as in the village of Mélé. [Sidenote: Saturday, August 14th.] We had first to follow the bank of the stream for a little more than a mile lower down, in order to reach the flat sandy beach which I have mentioned above. At length, after a good deal of delay, the boats were brought, and the passage began. Our horses went first, three or four swimming alongside each boat; but it was a difficult affair for the men who were sitting in the boats to manage them, and notwithstanding all their exertions, and all the cries of those who were standing on the bank, several of them were washed away from the boats, and carried a considerable distance down the river by the current: one, a fine black horse, was drowned. It was the very latest period when the river is passable for horses; for during the whole of the month of September, the people assured me that the passage was never attempted. I myself succeeded in crossing the river, with my horse and luggage, without any accident; and having fired a shot, in order to express my satisfaction at having safely escaped from the hands of the superstitious Bagírmi people, I pursued my march without delay, for I was afraid of exposing my horse to the pernicious stings of the “tsetse” fly, which, as I have observed before, proves extremely dangerous to the animal, but which fortunately infests only the very banks of this river, for I have observed it nowhere else. It is a large yellow species.