At seven in the morning we found the river turning N. E. and about nine o’clock it began to flow due east, in which direction it continued for four or five miles; then again it turned N. E., and about two in the afternoon we found ourselves before the little village of Diré, a dependency of Timbuctoo. As far as I could judge, I should suppose it contained about 150 or 200 inhabitants. Their houses are built of earth, and have terraced roofs. In an arm of the river which branched off in the neighbourhood of the village, there were six vessels of sixty tons burthen, on their way from Jenné. They had been waiting for us sixteen days. The Soorgoos or Tooariks would not allow them to pass without the payment of a ransom. These robbers daily went on board the canoes to levy contributions of food. The Soorgoos are a wandering tribe who inhabit the banks of the Dhioliba. They contrive to make themselves feared, and live at the expense of the poor negroes, whom they make their tributaries. I shall describe them more fully hereafter. The vessels which had been so long detained, joined us, firing muskets in token of their joy. The negroes of Diré, who are tributaries of the Soorgoos, informed us that the latter were absent, and that consequently we should escape the annoyance of their visits. In company with the canoes which had joined us, we now proceeded about four miles to the north-east, and afterwards turned due east. At sun-set we were overtaken by a violent storm, and we gained the right bank of the river, to which we moored our canoes with pikes made for that purpose. From N. E. to S. W. the sky was overspread with clouds driven by a gale, which continued part of the night. It did not raise the sand, but the heat was very great. At six o’clock on the morning of the 15th of April, we took an easterly direction, and shortly afterwards I observed the river turning S. E. It was still as wide and deep as before, and its banks were very low. A few dwarf trees were growing in the plains. I was astonished to see so vast a mass of water, notwithstanding the idea I had formed of the magnitude of this river before my departure. The Senegal is but an ordinary river in comparison with this, which, at the season here referred to, was nine or ten feet deep. The current is scarcely perceptible; I should think about a knot and a half an hour. About eight in the morning we passed an island, on which grow some low shrubs. We proceeded but slowly, having to wait for the large canoes, which could not advance so rapidly as we did.