Sidi-Aly, whom I had not seen at Timbuctoo, and to whom Sidi-Abdallahi, my host, had strongly recommended me, gave me extraordinary proofs of his regard. He assured me that he would treat me as his son. He confirmed the report I had previously heard respecting the scarcity of water on the road, and stated that we should have to undergo great privations, but that I must not be disheartened, as he would take care of me, seeing that I was not like the rest, accustomed to the heat of the desert, and could not so well bear the excessive thirst, to which we should often be exposed. This person was looked upon by the Moors as a zealous Musulman. I was assured that he feared God, and that he would act towards me as he had promised. Sidi-Aly always carried in his hand a rosary two feet and a half long, the beads of which were as large as nuts. He never failed, when he met any one in the streets, to cast his eyes piously on the ground, at the same time moving his lips, as if he were muttering a prayer. By this hypocrisy he imposed on me, as he did on others, and I believed that he was as good as he pretended to be; but I was cruelly deceived. Notwithstanding his feigned zeal for religion, the old hypocrite did not keep one of the promises he made me, as will be seen in the sequel. We left El-Arawan on the 19th of May 1828, at six o’clock in the morning. Aly, my guide, had sent his son to carry my luggage to the place appointed for the rendezvous of the caravan. My host had invited me to share his repast; but as it was not cooked, I was obliged to set off without tasting anything but a little dokhnou and millet. He again recommended me to my guide, and took his leave of me after wishing me a prosperous journey. It was about half past seven, when the caravan began to move to the N. E. I was concerned to see the poor slaves, whom I recognized as having been my companions from Jenné to El-Arawan, running through the sand to overtake the camels, which were in advance.