Ghérgo is a place not without interest, and seems to be of considerable antiquity. According to tradition, it is stated to be seven years older than Túmbutu, or Timbúktu, and seems therefore well deserving of a right to be identified with one of the celebrated centres of life in these regions in the first dawn of historical record. It was originally situated on the main, occupying an eminence a little to the east of our encampment, till, in more recent times, the weakened and unprotected inhabitants were obliged to retire behind the backwater from fear of the Tawárek. Certainly, the insular nature of their dwelling-place is of a rather indistinct character; for in general, with the exception of those years when the inundations of the river reach an extraordinary height, as had been the case this year, the smaller branch dries up to such an extent, that a person may enter the place without wetting his feet; but this happens at a season when their tormentors the Tawárek leave the banks of the river and retire inland, so that they suffer but little from them. This year the high state of the inundation had inspired them with so much confidence, that they had refused their boats to the tábu, or the army of their great liege lord himself. The river had risen to such an elevation, that it had reached their very huts, which, separated into three distinct groups, are situated on a slightly rising ground. The inhabitants, even in the present reduced state of the country, raise a good deal of rice and tobacco, though the cultivation ought to be much more extensive, if we consider the wide expanse of the low swampy ground which is reached by the inundation. The river, indeed, is at such a distance, that it is not seen at all, being hidden behind the sandy downs which form its inner bank. But it is remarkable that the nutritious grass, the býrgu, which I have so repeatedly mentioned, was almost wanting here, and the cattle of the village were obliged to be driven to a great distance, so that, notwithstanding the richness of the pasture-grounds in general, I was in want of milk. We remained here the following day, and after a very cold morning, which seemed rather remarkable in the month of May, I took a walk up the gradually rising downs, which partly consisted of sand and gravel, partly exhibited a more stony character, and, contrasted with the wide green valley of the river, presented a bleak desert scenery with undulating ground towards the north, clad with nothing but isolated tufts of dry herbage. From the higher ground I had an interesting view over the whole village, situated in the midst of swampy creeks and bordered on each side by a solitary tree. I counted from this point about 350 huts.