In the evening, being in the tent of a marabout, who gave instruction, I took advantage of a moment when I could procure some ink, and fell to work upon my journal: I had written about a page, when the Koont sherif came in and caught me; he took the paper from me, and, amazed to see no Arabic characters, asked me what I was writing. I thought at first of saying that I had set down some prayers that I wanted to remember, but recollecting that I had not learnt prayers enough to take up a page, I told him it was a song, and I began to sing to convince him. The incredulous sherif did not appear to believe it, and he accused me of coming to spy out their ways, that I might give an account of them to the christians. It was of importance to me to drive this idea out of his head, and I succeeded, by pretending the utmost indifference as to what I had written. I put the paper into his hands again with a smile, and said, “Go to the factory and get this paper read; you will see whether I have deserved the affront you have offered me.” This stratagem had the effect I expected; he gave me back my paper, and asked me to read another verse. I sung another couplet; the sherif appeared convinced, and left me, to my great joy, for his surmises alarmed me exceedingly. I thanked God that I had come off so well, and resolved to be more prudent in future. From that time forward, when I wanted to write, I took care to get behind a bush, and at the least noise I hid my notes and took up my beads, pretending to be saying my prayers. This feigned devotion procured me much commendation from those who surprised me; but it was painful to me to perform such a part.