On my first arrival at the town of Bámbara, I had not been at all aware that it formed a most important point of my journey, it being for me, as proceeding from the south-east, what that celebrated creek three days west from Timbúktu was to the traveller from the north during the middle ages, and which on this account has received the name of “Rás el má.” The town of Bámbara is situated on a branch, or rather a dead backwater of the river, forming a very shallow bottom of considerable breadth, but a very irregular border, and containing at that time but little water, so that the communication with the river was interrupted; but about twenty days later in the season, for about four or five months every year, during the highest state of the inundation, the boats proceed from here directly, either to Díre by way of Gálaye and Káñima, or to Timbúktu by way of Délego and Sarayámo, thus opening a considerable export of corn towards that dependent market-place, which again has to supply the whole of the nomadic tribes of Ázawád, and the neighbouring districts. This shallow water is bordered on the west side by the hilly chain which I have mentioned before, and beyond there is another branch, which joins it towards the south. Such being the state of the water at present, there was no great activity, and two canoes only were lying here under repair, each of them being provided with two low chambers, or cabins, vaulted in with reeds and bushes, as I shall describe further on. Of course, when this basin is full of water, and navigated by numbers of canoes, the place must present quite another appearance, while at the time of my visit its shallow swampy state could not but increase the dulness of the whole neighbourhood, which had not yet been fertilised by the rainy season. I was assured by the inhabitants that only one plentiful shower had as yet fallen. This was the reason that, instigated by the absurd rumour which had preceded me that my favour with the Almighty was so great that it had some influence upon the fall of rain, all the inhabitants, although Mohammedans, assembled on the second day of El Waláti’s absence, and, headed by the emír, came to me in procession, and solicited my interference in their behalf for a good shower of rain. I succeeded this time in eluding their solicitations for a direct prayer, satisfying them by expressing my fervent hope that the Almighty would have mercy upon them. But I was so favoured, that there was really a moderate shower in the evening, which did a great deal of good to the ground, although the air did not become much cooler, for it was excessively hot all this time, and sometimes almost insupportable in my narrow dirty hut. I remember in particular one miserable night which I spent here, when, not being able to obtain a wink of sleep, I wandered about all night, and felt totally exhausted in the morning. Notwithstanding the swarms of mosquitoes, I afterwards preferred