We had heard already on our journey that we had arrived at the very latest time in order to cross, with any degree of safety, the swampy fáddama of the gúlbi-n-Sókoto, which a little later in the season is extremely difficult to pass. At all events it was very fortunate that no rain had fallen for the last few days, or we should have experienced considerable difficulty in crossing this swampy ground: even as it was, we had to traverse three sheets of water, the first of which was about three feet deep and of considerable breadth, the second forming the real bed of the river, running with a south-westerly bend towards the Kwára, although not so wide as the former, and the third forming a stagnant creek. Having passed some ricefields, we at length, after a march of a little more than three miles, emerged from the swampy bottom of the valley, and ascended rising ground covered with the fine crops belonging to the inhabitants of Diggi, and soon after left the town itself on our right, which from our former journey had remained in our remembrance, as we had here been met by the chivalrous sons of the governor of Zogírma. Here dukhn and durra were grown promiscuously in the same field, affording a proof that this ground is well adapted for both kinds of cultivation. Having here fallen into our former road, I hastened on in advance along the well-known path towards Birni-n-Kebbi, which however now exhibited a different character, on account of the whole country being covered with tall crops; and turning round the walls of Kóla, we reached the gate of Birni-n-Kebbi. The aspect of this town had likewise undergone an entire change, but not to its advantage; the town, which of itself is narrow, being still more hemmed in by the crops. For the moment, the place had certainly a rather desolate appearance, the greater part of the inhabitants being engaged in an expedition led on by ʿAbd el Káderi, or as he is commonly called, ʿAbd el Káderi-ay, a younger brother of Khalílu. As I rode up to the house of the mágaji or governor, Mohammed Lowel, he was just sitting in his parlour with a few of his people, when he, or rather his attendants, having recognized me as his old acquaintance ʿAbd el Kerím, came out to salute me in a very cheerful manner. However, the expedition being expected to return the same evening, there was no room for us inside the town, and we were obliged to seek shelter outside, descending the steep and rugged slope to the border of the fáddama, where we obtained, with difficulty, quarters for myself, in an isolated farm. The hut was extremely small, and full of ants; but the door was provided with a peculiar kind of curtain, made of the leaves of the deléb-palm, which, while admitting access, entirely excluded the mosquitoes, which infested this place in enormous quantities. We were well treated by the owner, or maigída, of the farm, in conformance with the orders which he received from the mágaji, to