This was the anniversary of the death of Mr. Overweg, my last and only European companion, whom I had now outlived a whole year; and whom, considering the feeble state of my health at this time, while my mind was oppressed with the greatest anxiety, I was too likely soon to follow to the grave. Nevertheless, feeling a little better when rising from my simple couch in the morning, and confiding in the protection tendered me by a man whose straightforward character was the theme of general admiration, and which plainly appeared in the few lines which I had received from him, I fondly cherished the hope that this day next year it might be my good fortune to have fairly embarked upon my home journey from Negroland, and perhaps not to be far from home itself. I therefore, with cheerful spirit, made myself ready for my first audience, and leaving my other presents behind, and taking only a small six-barrelled pistol with me, which I was to present to the Sheikh, I proceeded to his house, which was almost opposite my own, there intervening between them only a narrow lane and a small square, where the Sheikh had established his “msíd,” or daily place of prayer. Áhmed el Bakáy, son of Sídi Mohammed, and grandson of Sídi Mukhtár[124], of the tribe of the Kunta, was at that time a man of about fifty years of age, rather above the middle height, full proportioned, with a cheerful, intelligent, and almost European countenance, of a rather blackish complexion, with whiskers of tolerable length, intermingled with some grey hair, and with dark eyelashes. His dress consisted at the time of nothing but a black tobe, a fringed shawl thrown loosely over the head, and trowsers, both of the same colour. I found my host in the small upper room on the terrace, in company with his young nephew, Mohammed Ben Khottár, and two confidential pupils, and, at the very first glance which I obtained of him, I was agreeably surprised at finding a man whose countenance itself bore testimony to a straightforward and manly character; both which qualities I had found so sadly wanting in his younger brother, Sídi Álawáte. Cheered by the expression of good-nature in his countenance as he rose from his seat to receive me, and relieved from all anxiety, I paid him my compliments with entire confidence, and entered into a conversation, which was devoid of any affected and empty ceremonious phrases, but from the first moment was an unrestrained exchange of thoughts, between two persons who, with great national diversity of manners and ideas, meet for the first time.