[Sidenote: September 7th, 1853.] Thus the day broke which, after so many months’ exertion, was to carry me to the harbour of Timbúktu. We started at a tolerably early hour, crossing the broad sheet of the river, first in a north-easterly, then in an almost northerly direction, till finding ourselves opposite the small hamlet Tásakal, mentioned by Caillié[83], we began to keep along the windings of the northern bank which, from its low character, presented a very varying appearance, while a creek, separating from the trunk, entered the low ground. The river a month or two later in the season inundates the whole country to a great distance, but the magnificent stream, with the exception of a few fishing-boats, now seemed almost tenantless, the only objects which in the present reduced state of the country animated the scenery being a number of large boats lying at anchor in front of us near the shore of the village Koróme. But the whole character of the river was of the highest interest to me, as it disclosed some new features for which I had not been prepared; for, while the water on which Koróme was situated formed only by far the smaller branch, the chief river, about three quarters of a mile in breadth, took its direction to the south-east, separated from the former by a group of islands called Day, at the headland of which lies the islet of Tárashám.[84] It was with an anxious feeling that I bade farewell to that noble river as it turned away from us, not being sure whether it would fall to my lot to explore its further course, although it was my firm intention at the time to accomplish this task if possible. Thus we entered the branch of Koróme, keeping along the grass which here grows in the river to a great extent, till we reached the village, consisting of nothing but temporary huts of reed, which, in the course of a few weeks, with the rising of the waters, were to be removed further inland. Notwithstanding its frail character, this poor little village was interesting on account of its wharfs, where a number of boats were repairing. The master of our own craft residing here (for all the boatmen on this river are serfs, or nearly in that condition), we were obliged to halt almost an hour and a half; but in order not to excite the curiosity of the people, I thought it prudent to remain in my boat. But even there I was incommoded with a great number of visitors, who were very anxious to know exactly what sort of person I was. It was here that we heard the unsatisfactory news that El Bakáy, whose name as a just and intelligent chief alone had given me confidence to undertake this journey, was absent at the time in Gúndam, whither he had gone in order to settle a dispute which had arisen between the Tawárek and the Berabísh; and as from the very beginning, when I was planning my journey to Timbúktu, I had based the whole confidence of my success upon the noble and trustworthy character