The Sheikh Makouran does not approve of my Timbuctoo ideas. Says the city is always in an uproar with the Touaricks, who are robbers and not like the Touaricks of Touat. Walked through the town at noon, and met Essnousee, had not seen him for some time, and wondered what had become of him. He was very friendly, and wanted to bring me lemonade in the street. But as there was a large concourse of people present, all fasting, poor devils, at this time of the day; I thought common decency required me to go with him to his house. I waited in a dark corner close by his door, and here I quaffed the forbidden draught in the high-noon of the Fast. He smiled at me when I finished, and said, "Well done, Yâkob." He gave me also a fine melon to bring home with me. I considered this feat of drinking lemonade, under the circumstance related, a remarkable trait of tolerance. People usually put into their lemonade pieces of rag steeped in lemon-juice and dried; in this way the juice is preserved from evaporation. Essnousee had just lost his wife. "Have you any other wives?" I said. "Oh yes," he replied, "one here and one in Ghat." Many of the merchants, like the roving tar who has a sweetheart at every port, have a wife at every city of The Desert and Soudan where they trade. Several of the children now in Ghadames were born either in Timbuctoo or Soudan. _8th._--Few patients on account of the Ramadan. Weather extremely sultry. People bear the fast remarkably well, and with good humour enough. The Rais persists in sending me supper though I would rather he did not. After mass and chanting prayers in the evening, his Excellency holds a court. He abused the Sultan of Constantinople and called him an ass for spending his money like a fool, and this license before all the people! Smoking, drinking coffee, talking, and writing for the courier, all together, so his Excellency passes his Ramadan evenings. Said, my negro servant, is becoming as great a man as his master in Ghadames. He receives visits from all the slaves of the city, as well as the free negroes. Being slaves, I am very indulgent, and sometimes they stop all day with him. The slaves of the Touaricks also come. Said manages to talk with them all in all languages. I see there is a sort of free-masonry amongst negroes, and they all (which is greatly to their credit) stick close to one another, and take one another's part. Said is impatient about his _âtka_, or freedom ticket. He said to me to-day-- "Oh, Sidi, where's my âtka? The people will steal me and sell me again." "No, Said," I replied, "have patience, if they steal you, they must steal me also." Visited with Said to-day "the Street of Slaves." This is a little dark street appropriated for the rendezvous of the slaves in my part of the city, where they enjoy the cool of the evening and chat together. I squatted down to chat amongst them, which awakened their curiosity. "Who's that naked boy there?"