Taking a summary view of Lobeid it appears only to be a large village; the barren country around it presents a slightly excavated surface, and the rain-water flowing towards the village forms a torrent which runs towards the north, but soon disappears in the sand. The environs are cultivated with dockn. Lobeid offers many spectacles rendering it interesting to the traveller, the chief of which is the concourse of men from the most distant parts of Africa, even from Timbuctoo, and other negro states as yet totally unknown to Europeans. Before the first rays of the sun emerge from the sea of desert sand, the whole of the population is on foot, and each man begins the business of the day; with the majority, however, this only consists in lying on the sand, or visiting his neighbour when the same interesting occupation is performed in company. The flocks are driven to their pasture by a shepherd riding on his ox, the slaves are led to work with chains on their feet, caravans are passing and repassing, and all this affords an unique exhibition. In the streets songs are heard everywhere, even the female slave at the Morak sings her plaintive ditty of attachment to her home, whilst grinding the corn; in fact all is life and motion as in a beehive; but from 11 o’clock A.M. till 3 o’clock P.M., during the hot months, quietude and silence reign in the streets, and the whole town resembles a city of the dead; every one seeks shelter from the fierce rays of a vertical sun in his own hut, and there enjoys his rest, for it is impossible to exist out of the shade; only a few hungry dogs may then be seen running about in the streets, and even they do not remain long in the open air, but seek a shady place with all speed, where they may protect themselves from the burning heat. This recess lasts until 3 o’clock, when every one, refreshed by his siesta, returns to his occupations. The streets now become again as animated as they were at sunrise, but the most lively scene is then in the market-place; this state of activity lasts until the sun sets, when the inhabitants all retire again to their houses to recover from the fatigues of the day. The streets become suddenly empty, for with sunset night closes in; there is no twilight, and every one is anxious for repose. This silence continues until they have all finished their frugal meal, for the poorest man finds the necessaries of life in his hut, or should he really suffer want, goes to his nearest neighbour, where his wants are willingly supplied. As soon as the repast is over, large fires may be seen burning before the huts far and near; drums, beating of hands, and songs resound in all directions, and the girls and young men congregate for the merry dance, which is kept up until midnight; and then the whole town once more becomes as suddenly silent, for each man, with but few exceptions, betakes himself again to rest. The streets are now, indeed, wrapped in the silence of the grave, save that the stillness