My journey seemed now to begin again, I felt a sickening regret, even in leaving my new Arab acquaintances. But the oppression which ground down to the dust these poor people filled my mind with the horror of despotic government. I was glad to get away from its victims, and from under the sphere of its influence, and plunge into the wild wastes of The Sahara, where I could breathe more freely. I must relate one other anecdote illustrating this oppression. A poor man sold me a peck of barley. The myrmidons of power, hearing of the sale, immediately went to him, and he refusing to give them the money, they got hold of his throat and nearly strangled him. To make them desist, I paid them also the value of the barley. Several of the poor people ran out after me when I mounted the camel, and amongst them many women and children, all crying out "_Bes-slamah, bes-slamah_," (Good-bye, good-bye). We now entered upon the most difficult, and the most critical part of our route in this season, and I commended myself and the people again to Eternal Providence. _20th._--Seenawan. I find it impossible to write daily in this part of the route. I have seen lately in the newspapers and geographical journals, that a Frenchman is going to traverse Africa from west to east, and that he is to make hourly observations with scientific instruments. I think the parties who write such paragraphs must be either madmen, or grossly and unpardonably ignorant of the nature of African travelling. If a traveller is in his sober senses, half the time he is _en route_, he is a happy man. But to proceed.