CHAPTER X.

VARIOUS SPECIES OF GRASSES. — FORMATION OF THE SHORES. — WATERFOWLS. — AN ANTELOPE OF THE TETE SPECIES, NOW AT BERLIN. — STRATA OF THE SHORE. — THE SOBÀT RIVER. THE MAIN ROAD FOR THE NATIVES FROM THE HIGHLANDS TO THE PLAINS. — OBSERVATIONS ON THE COURSE OF THE NILE AND SOBÀT. — A THOUSAND ANTELOPES SEEN MOVING TOGETHER! — WILD BUFFALOES, LIONS, AND HYÆNAS. — AFRICA, THE CRADLE OF THE NEGRO RACE. — THE SHUDDER-EL-FAS: DESCRIPTION OF THIS SHRUB. — ARNAUD’S CHARLATANRY. — OUR AUTHOR FEARED BY THE FRENCHMEN. — ARNAUD AND SABATIER’S JOURNALS: THE MARVELLOUS STORIES OF THE FORMER. — THIBAUT’S JEALOUSY. — VISIT OF A SHEIKH OF THE SHILLUKS. — FEAR OF THE TURKS AT THESE PEOPLE. — SULIMAN KASHEF PURSUED BY A LION.

18th March.—We sail at a quarter before seven o’clock with a cold north-east wind S.E., and then S. by E. and S. The wind, however, becomes too powerful; twice are we driven on oyster-beds—that is, on those thorn muscles, as if over stones, and have reefed sails to prevent the ships from going to pieces, their condition being so bad. A quarter after seven. From S. by E. to the left. Visible sand-banks in the curve seem to block up our road, but we managed to pass by them on the right, with the assistance of the sails, close to the left shore towards S.E., and away in the bend to E. by S. Half-past seven. S.E. by E., and then a quarter before eight right round; six huntsmen’s tokuls being near a sand-bank on the lower shore of the projection of the left side of the river. We halt on the left by a shallow island clothed with low verdure towards S.S.W., and intend to stop here to-day and to-morrow to make observations, and the most needful repairs to the vessels and sails.

Suliman Kashef shot yesterday evening, at a gazelle-hunt, a large antelope, called by the Arabs Tete, in the foreleg, shattering it to pieces; the animal fell twice, but made off at last on three legs. Sabatier and I had chosen the left wing, and concealed ourselves with one of my servants in the high grass: the former fired and missed. The cracked earth displayed a magnificent soil: the grass, standing thickly in tufts, reached up to our breast, and was a great obstacle at the beginning of our rapid march. It was still green at the bottom, and the present desiccation of the ground, on which we remarked everywhere the traces of footsteps of wild beasts, and their dung, might therefore have only taken place a short time. This grass, narrow and three-edged, with cylindrical spikes, formed the principal produce of the soil. Less common was the grass similar to our species with flat two-edged leaves; it had knotty stalks like the three-edged, but a couple of spikes grew together on each blade (I have remarked this previously), which unfortunately were not yet at maturity, and therefore very small. The third species of grass consisted of slender reeds, cropped and sprouting anew, or trod on the ground. I perceived, also, some bamie growing wild, and birds’ nests of grass hanging on it.

I had lost sight of my comrade; and although at the commencement of my excursion I had seen the vessels sailing up the river at my side, it soon became dark. Suliman Kashef, however, had the sagacity on his return to the vessels, to order the reeds to be set on fire as signals, so that luckily I found my way back, though sinking every now and then up to the knees into the deep foot-prints of hippopotami close to the river,—a further proof that the shores, being only slightly elevated, form shallow lakes here at the rainy season, which are not dried up so soon.

I had taken a short walk previously on the left shore. The very same appearances of water remaining behind were visible, and I found muscles on the dry ground, amongst which were the Erethria ovata. Long traces of little deposits of earth, which, on closer examination, I discovered to be dams against the high water on the shore itself; and the alluvial reeds in conjunction with the muscles, make me conjecture that the Sobàt ascends over its shores here, as in many other places. Behind these low deposits lay an unlimited stubble-field on the other side of the village which lies on a gently ascending hill, elevated perhaps by the remains of clay walls, and stretching far beyond the horizon. The better kind of tokuls have frequently a roof, but the eaves only project inconsiderably: the smaller ones have a round form of roof, low sleeping places and reed-hedges being between them. Dinkas are said to dwell there; but not a person, not a living creature, is to be seen. Thermometer, sunrise, 17°; noon, 28°; sunset, 26°.

_19th March._—We all dine together in the open air, after an antelope-hunt. The island on which we are, is, properly speaking, a large broad sand-bank, about a quarter of an hour long: its somewhat elevated back is covered with verdure, and is connected with the shore on the right at low water-mark. Purslane (Arabic Rigli) is found very commonly upon it; we see also numerous birds fishing in the many tongue-shaped segments of the upper part, and, in fact, sharing among themselves the narrow lake on the high right shore, close to which is a village, from whence the people have likewise fled. These feathered occupants seem to remove very seldom from this happy place. The antelopes presented themselves in great numbers; but Suliman Kashef’s body-guard, though generally good shots, did not know the huntsman’s custom of dividing and forming a chain, so as to catch the herd in the middle. I had no inclination, either, to join in such a surrounding of the game; for these Turks fire as if they were shooting in files, and their guns carry far, and are always recommended to the care of the supreme Allàh.

_20th March._—Departure at a quarter after nine o’clock, with a favourable north-east wind, without sails, S.S.W. and S.W. by W., where, on the right, behind the high shore, a village lies in the bend to the left, and below it a broad sand-bank, on which some long-legged water-fowls are wandering about. We leave at the right side another sand-bank exactly similar to the former, throwing its shallows far beyond the middle of the river, and halt, S.S.E. at the right shore at half-past ten o’clock. Suliman Kashef’s halberdiers bring eight antelopes, one of which I procure, being the largest of the Tete species. This specimen is now in the Zoological Museum at Berlin as a _nova species_.

The shores have widened here, and fall off in an angle of 45° to 50°: though they appear on this account lower, yet it is plainly visible by the steeper places, that they always become higher. It is only below in the places where the river beats against, that the bluish clay is seen: the remaining part of the shores has, apparently, merely constituents of the same, as is the case in most places where the high water has not washed away the crust of humus crumbling from above and covering the base of the surface; for the original soil discloses itself immediately under the covering of earth, as is seen in precipices, and clefts in rocks caused by water. The river has also thrown or deposited thick layers on the shores. We must not be deceived here by observing various strata of earth mixed above and below with sand; this is a later alluvial deposit.

A pure layer of clay is never to be seen, however, in these tracts of strata, so far as I have remarked here and on the Nile. If it does appear, it lies either as the foundation of the whole, below on the banks of the water, as on the Nile; for all the ground there is alluvial and earthy deposits, gained when the high water is drawn off; or it rises, as in the Sobàt, with the talus of the shores to the surface, which is covered with a crust of humus. The Sobàt dug a bed for itself in firm clay-ground that resisted the water, and remained tolerably constant in the trench opened by it, without having altered its course, for no gohrs are seen on dry ground; but perhaps, in some places, it has flowed over its bed, and formed channels. On the contrary, the White Stream wallowed for a long time in the deep slime of an emptied lake, before it threw up solid dams, on which there are marshy forests, as on the old shores. This long valley-basin lies also on a layer of clay.

The Sobàt may be considered as a further boundary of the peninsula of Sennaar, and have given to the latter the name of Gesira. Certainly it has been, like the Blue Nile, a main-road for the tribes of the highlands of Ethiopia to the valleys of these countries; and this must have been especially the case because it has no accompanying marsh-lakes. Such nations could not have wound down from the mountains of Bari and the highlands there, by reason of the many marshes; for we are not to suppose that nomadic tribes can provide themselves and families with a stock of provisions for a long journey, or stow entire herds in their hewn-out trunks of trees (canoes); and it is impossible that the cattle could have been driven along the shore for their use.

The further I ascend the Sobàt, the plainer I perceive why the right shore just behind Khartùm appears higher than the left, and why I could not get rid of the idea that this oblique inclination of the land was in opposition to the course and the mouth of the Nile, but still might be explained. The deposit of particles of earth and sand can only come from above, and will always try to level and equalise the tracts of land which the Nile covers with showers of rain, brooks, and rivulets. It is clear that the surface is elevated by that means, and that, where these washed-away and liquid particles of earth reach a stream like the White Nile, they are carried down by it, without the other shore (the left side of the Nile here) deriving naturally any advantages therefrom.

The high mountain chain of Fàzogl and Habesh mixed, as I conjecture, its collective waters, owing to a breach in its partition-walls, and their slime and morasses, and perhaps entire hills of decayed and corrupted matter connected therewith, filled depths in the lower valley on the side of the Nile up to the Delta—its most famous memorial,—and levelled the mountains of the neighbourhood, when Bertat, Dinka, and the country between the Sobàt and Bari rivers might have shot up in indomitable strength like artesian wells. Such catastrophes roll mountains and masses like a brook does its little pebbles, and throw up the water released from confinement in the cavities of heights which attract and collect it. A flood of liquid earth rolled then far and wide from the mountains without order and with numerous arms, but conformably to nature, the heavy particles sank. The water itself washed away, smoothed and levelled the ground. Therefore now we perceive those immeasurable plains on the Sobàt, whereon beasts cannot hide themselves, and which would be without shelter in the rainy season, if there were not mountains and forests in the neighbourhood.

Though it be mathematically proved that the great Nile runs in a channel as upon an ass’s back, yet we find just the contrary in the White Nile; but the Sobàt even displays that phenomenon, although not at this moment, for its shores are emptied, except in the lowermost grade. They lie and stretch higher than the adjacent land, being heaped up by the waves of the river; they are, however, generally narrow dams, only appearing wide in the places where there are shallow lakes behind in distant connection, or overgrown gohrs, the grass border of which more easily withstands that deep washing away than these immeasurable plains, which might be called beautiful from their splendid soil, if Ceres waved her golden ears, and Pomona offered shade and fruit. They shew, indeed, but little declination to the Nile, for which the Sobàt itself affords the best standard, being stagnant, and its shores only increasing in height here and there. The shores become higher, as on the great Nile itself; the less precipitous ones (although this is only local) are deceptive, as I have remarked several feet difference on the disrupt shore, and still more on the return voyage. I cannot divest myself of the idea that a lake has stood here also, or it may be that the surface of the earth from the region above to this, has been laid flat by the inundation, similar to the level fields of Egypt.

There is an incredible number of deer on the shores of the Sobàt, for I can add from my own conviction, so far as my eyes and ears do not deceive me, that I saw herds of antelopes at least a thousand strong—the Turks say from three to four thousand. About evening they shew themselves in immense lines on the bare horizon of the steppe, stand still, and approach—their tread sounds, in truth, like the evolutions of distant cavalry; at last, as soon as it is dark, they separate in the little bushes on the margin of the shore, to descend to the water. Hitherto I have not been able to seize this opportunity, because no one would remain with me on account of the lions and other savage beasts prowling about here, and it did not seem to me exactly safe, by reason of my close acquaintance with the lion and his just revenge, to lie alone behind a bush, and shoot some of the animals at a few paces off. My cook, however, has promised to accompany me on such sport, when we come again to a suitable place.

We proceeded this afternoon at two o’clock with sails in a south-easterly direction, and halted for the sake of antelope-hunting at three o’clock, at the right shore, E.S.E., before the curve to the right. Four o’clock: we sail to S.S.E., then a bend to the left, S.E. by E., where we stop again to hunt and also to remain. An antelope-herd of about sixty head was standing shortly before at a little distance on the shore, like a flock of goats, in harmless innocence and anticipating nothing evil. Wild buffaloes, lions, and hyænas were seen by several of our men: where are the holes and corners in which these beasts lurk? there must be mountains. Thermometer, sunrise, 15°; noon, 26°, 27°; from four to five o’clock, 28°; sunset 26½°.

_21st March._—We sail from our place at half-past six o’clock, quite quietly, without a drum being beat, and go E.S.E., with a cold north-east wind. Half-past seven.—From E. Libàhn: again to the left, E.S.E.; eight o’clock: and then again to the left at nine, N.N.E., where we stop at the left shore for sport, pretending that it is owing to the contrary winds.—Oh you Turks!

M. Arnaud now pays himself in skins, which he demands very freely for “son Altesse,” but which he intends to sell in France at 500 francs the head. Eleven o’clock: we go with libàhn round a corner, and come to N., whence the river winds again slowly to the right, N.E. by N. and to E., where we are driven forward and indeed without sails. I remark here that the lower border of the river is rocky, with a layer of soft stone under the clay, from which it may originate, and appearing to be limestone formation, until we break off the deceitful exterior, and the apparent corrosion by the action of the atmosphere turns out to be alluvial deposit,—the clay, however, remaining sticking to the hands like sand. One o’clock: E.N.E. All the vessels bear up! Four o’clock: three reïs had been sent forward with the sandàl to sound the water, and the men were honourable enough to express their conviction that there was still a watercourse: we shall get now regularly fixed upon every sand-bank. I, for my part, would like to make yet a good way, for I may stumble perhaps upon a firmer foundation of stone or something else new. We proceed, therefore, further,—against Mohammed Ali’s will, and certainly against Ahmed Basha’s, who may be very much in want of vessels and men at this moment, without any invasion on the part of England or France. E. by N., and we squat again. A quarter before five o’clock: S.E. by E. Water is on the right, but we cannot get there because the bed of the river is elevated in the middle, and these banks are magnificently larded with the spiry Conchylia, which would deprive the vessels instantaneously of their beautiful caulking. The reïs are sent out again in the sandàl; everyone is in doubt what is to be done. Suliman Kashef and Selim Capitan want to return. An island lies in view above. I should like to be there to make observations, but that cannot be. Thermometer, 17°, 28° to 30°, 27°.

_22nd March._—Suliman Kashef sails back for the sake of the chase; two other vessels follow: obedience seems renounced. I go to the island and shoot two antelopes, dark as it was. No artifice, such as I have already related, was necessary in this neighbourhood.

_23rd March._—We set out indeed at seven o’clock in the morning for the return voyage, but stop soon again, notwithstanding the favourable wind at the right shore, because deer are seen close to it. The Sobàt and the Blue river might be conduits for the high land, like the Tigris and Euphrates, Indus and Ganges were for the valley-land, made subsequently fit for the nourishment of nations. Tradition and history up to our time, teach us that Nature was not powerful enough, and perhaps did not wish it, to form everlasting barriers between nations, whether seas, rivers, or mountains; for the destination of man is perfectability, which can only be attained by mutual commercial intercourse.

Was Africa, therefore, although in the same latitude as other countries,—for example, Arabia,—exclusively created for the black species, who, so far as I have had experience of them, will never leave the low grade of intelligence in which they have been for so long a time, until they come into a closer and more continuous association with whites? Anthropophagy, indeed, makes the Nile the partition-wall between Asia and Africa, instead of the Isthmus of Suez and the Red Sea. Our Sobàt (as also perhaps the White river, unless the black people from below ascended here after the drying up of that part assumed by me to have been a lake, which may be almost taken for granted if we consider the affinity of languages from the Dinka country to Bari,) drew down probably only a black race,—a younger stem, I conjecture, than that of Caucasus,—between which and the nations of the Nile there is a total difference in colour and manners.

Habesh, like a second Cashmere, might be the cradle of white men; no less than Arabia, lying opposite, which has nourished perhaps the same species, but burnt by the sun;—and if a black race shot up here instead of the white, the rivers of High Asia that disembogue on this side were large enough to import white people. The Red Sea and the Persian Gulf must, indeed, at the very earliest time, have formed nearly insurmountable obstacles, if antediluvian shipbuilding, even without Noah’s ark, had not brought about cultivation, and caused the necessity of exertion and the desire of emigration; and who will answer for it that the Red Sea was not at one time a Tempe, so that an excursion to Africa might have been made under the shade of rose and orange trees? The divulsed coasts, the washed-away sharp rocks of the dangerous shallows, and the submarine mountains, might easily indicate that there was once a small irruption.

Habesh might have been the real mother country of Nubia and Egypt, by means of the fecundation brought from Asia. Nuba negroes mixed with the whites, and became masters of the country, until they were forced back to their mountains in Kordofàn,—still remaining a pure race, and nothing being left of the whole Egyptian policy but circumcision. The black nation on the Nile might have been separated from that in Habesh by a cordon; and both of these tribes preferred, on cultivation increasing, a comfortable life in the city to the free one in the mountains, until the Romans connected again Habesh and Egypt, and built Axum.

The shores of the Sobàt have hitherto been without wood; but I saw, upon the shore behind the island just left by us, a row of trees, said to be Döbkers, and probably were so; for I recognised the little solitary shrubs, in which I and my servants had groped about till late at night, to be young shoots of Döbkers, which seem to have sprung up this year at high-water; and also nebek and telle. I found water-thistles on the shore above in unusual abundance, and collected also that clay which appeared to me previously to be a layer of stone. It was not quite free from fine sand, which the water had washed on the shore, and exhibited, therefore, a rough, stone surface, without being so yet. But where it lay piecemeal about the shore it was as hard and black as stone saturated with water, and dried or burnt by the sun, for that luminary has the power, with the assistance of rain, of vitrifying rocks; and we have seen ourselves such greenish ridges and blocks in the Nubian deserts.

According to Girard, the specimens I brought from the shores of the Sobàt consist of a micaceous sand, dark-brown, ochrous clay, chalky sand, and partly of a conglomerate composed of small fragments of limestone baked together by the sun. The sand, where it is pure, consists of several little yellowish grains of quartz, a small portion of reddish feldspar, some brown iron-stone, little brown tombac-mica, and a black mineral consisting of small grains, the nature of which could not be exactly ascertained. These materials indicate that the origin of the sand is derived from a mica-slate and gneiss mountain not far distant; for if the sand were far from the mountain whence it originated, it would not contain coloured mica.

An incredible number of potsherds were found below on the flat shore which is deserted by the river. I thought to pick up pieces of brick, but I soon discovered that they were fragments of that kind of murhàka which the Shilluks bake from the mixed mud of the Nile, owing to the want of stones. I did not discover any remains of villages on the shore; they appear, however, to lie upon the high gohrs, and the pools arising therefrom, as if upon the primitive shore. These gohrs of the Sobàt running parallel, and lying actually twenty feet higher,—at times, also, displaying higher dams or shores than the river itself, indicate moreover that the river in its young days flowed wider than it does now, without deviating from its direction, so far as I have hitherto observed. I had an opportunity of convincing myself of what I have stated above, at the village in the neighbourhood of which I was shooting, and where I saw two ostriches. Nevertheless these potsherds are testimonies either of a previous and considerable population of the surrounding country, and even the hill covered with shrubs above the potsherds might have supported a village, or that more people dwell above than we should have supposed; and the pieces of murhàkas may be a sign that neither stones nor mountains are near at hand, and that the arts did not flourish; for all these fragments were of rude origin. We have never discovered traces of any finer vessels of terra-cotta, or pieces of glass, enamel, or delft ware, such as we find in Egypt.

When the antelopes come to drink, for which they have room enough,—for instance, yesterday evening—on the extensive plain, they appear drawn up as if in line of battle, but run away like a flock of sheep—yet not so close together—as soon as danger threatens. These animals, so numerous here, might be easily tamed and fed by the hand of man, if arms did not prevent such friendship; the lion and hyæna, besides, keep them in constant fear and trembling, and take a tenth part and more of them, in spite of all their innocence, as we have seen by the remains of saraffes and gazelles. Perhaps, the great lord of beasts, with whom I came so closely in contact that it was only necessary for him to make a spring, to set his teeth in my bit of Adam’s flesh, had made such a feast on venison before we met.

It is surprising that I have not hitherto seen any mouse-holes or mole-hills; the inundation and rains may be the cause of this, and we have not gone from the river into the interior of the country. The Schudder-el-Fas (axe-tree, _mimosa sensitiva?_) common in Bellet Sudan, is seen on the shore itself,—a shrub spreading like brambles, with small delicate acacia leaves, a similar sort of pods, flesh-coloured button-flowers, and barbed thorns. If its twigs be touched with an axe, or a knife, or merely knocked with the finger, its leaves immediately close (from fear, as the Arabs say) as if they were withered. I have not yet been able to procure ripe seeds of this shrub.

M. Arnaud makes a section, but not where the water running upon a shallower place allows a more accurate calculation to be made, but there where the river is full,—namely, in these basins, in which the water underneath is stagnant, whilst that on the surface moves as slowly as we have seen the Atbara, which has the very same deep basins. The public will therefore read of a mighty mass of water, said to be carried by the Sobàt to the Nile: the breadth of the river amounts here, as below, to one hundred and thirty mètres.

The section is therefore made, and we proceed at noon. The strong wind breaks in two the sail-yard of the vessel commanded by the Arnaut, Mohammed Aga, because Selim Capitan paid no attention to it, though it was rotten,—and so was the whole vessel.

We land afterwards at our peninsula or sand-bank, where there is a settlement of six tokuls. The poor inhabitants of these little straw huts were perhaps those whom Thibaut observed when setting out from hence, and who covered the whole island like a swarm of flies; whereupon he slily retreated. I rather think that my European fellow-travellers are afraid of my being an eyewitness of their doings and acts, lest I should accuse them of falsehood, or laugh at them when they exaggerate some small circumstance, or pretend to have seen wonders, and gone through frightful adventures with courage: and yet they give all this out of their journals to their attentive listeners. It is really as good as a play to see them. Arnaud and Sabatier have separate cabins in the same vessel; and, as soon as one has gone on deck, ashore, or on board another vessel, the other tries to find out the hiding-place of his journal, in order principally to read what is said of him. If Arnaud abuses Sabatier, the latter gets in a rage; but on our persuasion rests satisfied with threats, and sits down and writes against Arnaud in his journal: then he leaves it carelessly lying about, and goes away directly Arnaud enters, and the latter, immediately his back is turned, seizes it and reads it. Thus they read their notes and diaries in secret, and then I have the pleasure of hearing all about it from Thibaut and Sabatier, who come on board my bark.

Though Sabatier and Arnaud have related the history of their hunting two little marafills, the latter has not hesitated to write down that he came close upon two lions (whereas he only saw two hyænas running at a distance, whom Sabatier observed at the same time), because he is jealous, as his countrymen tell me, of my chivalry with the lion. He describes, also, antelope, lion, and crocodile hunts with similar Münchausen stories.

Our tokul inhabitants seem to have gained a little confidence, although they do not shew themselves, for they have tied up a sucking-calf close to their huts, which Suliman Kashef takes immediately into his possession. We have here a proof that the water is still falling, which I had not previously thought: this was the case in the peninsula to the extent of a foot, and we shall be obliged to go over the nearest oyster-bank, after we have remained here half a day, or perhaps the whole, to make the Arnaut’s vessel again in proper sailing trim. Thermometer 16°, 27°, 29°.

We find here, near the Sobàt, that the impregnation of iron oxyde, which is frequently so strong, is only in the earth brought down from above, in all the humus, and also in the coagulated layers of sand under or between the humus, but not in the drifted sand. There is no trace of it in the clay; it is therefore perhaps a primitive deposit,—the lime or cement of the ancient world. From this appearance of iron oxyde, which is not inferior to that on the upper part of the White river, the Sobàt might provide Bellet Sudàn and Egypt with iron, if the protecting hobgoblins of the mines be first driven away. Whether the Sobàt leads to gohrs of gold would be worth investigation, but the sand of this region has not the least appearance of it. For that very reason Arnaud is projecting an immediate expedition up the Sobàt this summer to the gold sources. Oh enviable Viceroy of Egypt, around whom charlatans of every kind have drawn a line, within the circle of which no one can penetrate but Italians of similar calibre, may your eyes be closed against gold-dust! At noon we set out from our halting-place, partly with libàhn and partly sailing, glide here and there over oyster-banks, and soon stick fast again on the sand.

_25th March._—Sate Mohammed and Sale lay down yesterday to sleep close by, instead of going to shoot. I felt hungry, and had not prepared anything: the cook gazed stupidly in the distance; and I was obliged to eat soft biscuit and drink water. No sooner had I taken this than I felt unwell, and continued so till this morning. Thibaut seems to be possessed with the most trivial jealousy; he cannot understand, like all the rest, what I have to write so continually. The old monotony of the shores has hitherto continued. Only this morning two groups of naked Dinkas shewed themselves on the shores, without running away from us. They brought even goats and sheep with them; but we sailed by, and halted at noon near the dhellèbs, where several groups of fishermen’s huts stood here and there on the shore. Thermometer 17° to 30°; sunset 28°.

_26th March._—The wind is favourable; but Arnaud wants to renew his sections, in order to make the world believe that the Sobàt gives more water than the White river. He is fishing about, therefore, in the deep places, and a fall has made its appearance, which was invisible to other eyes. Yesterday evening I said to him, accidentally, that I had an attack of fever the day before, accompanied with vomiting and diarrhœa. He immediately complained of his health, and said that he was suffering under tertian ague, and dropped a hint that Khartùm was very unhealthy, in which I agreed, experience having taught me the same; but I saw clearly what he meant—he intends to play the invalid, and will certainly become worse in Khartùm itself, so as to induce the Basha to let him go to Metemma, where he will find more lucrative work in examining the ruins there than in composing his map. He eats and drinks, however, like men in good health—is active on his legs, even when there is nothing doing—shakes his round head, talks to himself, lays his finger on his nose, and looks first to the sky and then to the ground so quickly that his straw hat, adorned as it is with a large knot of ribbons, in the Tyrolean style, flaps up and down. A Turkish under-cap and this hat cover his partly bald head, on which he has let a pigtail grow, to make up for the loss of his hair at a future time. He stands still, and then sets off running: we call him, but his profound meditations will not allow him to answer. The Turks say, in short, that he is _magnuhn_ (crazed). His usual expression to the others, “_Je le sais tout_,” is worthy of a man of such varied acquirements as he pretends to be; but he does not dare say so to me. When the time comes that he puts on the appearance of sickness, he orders Thibaut to be summoned, and makes the latter understand, if he does not perceive directly the illness of his lord and master, that he is unwell, and not inclined for work, and therefore wants to have a little chat with him. Thibaut sits down very quietly, yawns now and then, and answers “_Oui Monsieur_” to all his remarks, and thus are the rays of these great minds reflected. But Arnaud truly is an all-comprehensive genius! After he has spoken a little about the way to make money, &c., it pleases him to fall into a kind of somnambulism, which will be attributed subsequently to feverish delirium—talks some hodgepodge about constellations and declining spheres, which he means, however, to put in order, and then all at once turns the conversation from stars to his property in the moon, or to a royal princess, whose favours he has refused—all in most beautiful harmony with what he tries, at other times, to impose on the world. During all this scene Sabatier sits in his cabin, and is nearly bursting with laughter. “_Relata refero_.”

We navigate part of to-day with a good wind, and may, therefore, easily reach the Nile. The more I ascend the Sobàt, the more I am convinced how the shore and land fall away towards the Nile; and yet the former appeared to me high at first, without, however, being much higher; but then we came from the Nile, which is shoreless. The Sobàt on the tract navigated by us is like the shore of the Nile near Kàhira, and the more ancient high shores in Nubia. The greater gradation of its shores at a distance indicate a chain of mountains in the neighbourhood, or an unusually strong falling away of the slope in the highlands, which is certainly not far distant.

That the Sobàt should still retain its old channel when on the point of discharging itself into the Nile, as it seems to do at the upper part, is very improbable, because I saw to-day from the deck merely a gohr on its left side, at the end of the forest above, and perhaps flowing into it as usual at high water. Moreover, the alluvial soil at the lower end of the Sobàt was contrary to the nature of such soft deposits, and very certainly belonged to that which I have considered a Nile lake, the reach of which might always elevate the Sobàt sufficiently high. The undulating ground extending from the river, and running parallel to it, displays still furrows caused by the marshes having ebbed away, and the Sobàt, rushing over it afterwards, flowed without opposition wherever it liked, and might even have separated into several arms.

_27th March._—Yesterday afternoon we arrived at the mouth of the Sobàt, and remain here to-day to make observations; but if the strong north wind do not change, we shall not be able to advance. Yesterday evening another man was carried dead from our vessel, who would not eat, and drank nothing but water from the Sobàt. A species of marsh hyacinth, having scent, was found by Thibaut. It has little bulbs, but spreads and increases by shoots from the root. Arnaud, who is never at a loss for a name, declares that a beautiful water-bird, with perfect web feet, which we remark, is the Phœnix.

The Shilluks came this morning from the opposite shore, and asked us to barter with them. This afternoon a Sheikh came to us (unless he was an impostor, as the one on our ascent was) and invited us to come _without fear_ to their city, which was close at hand, and said that cows, poultry, &c. would be brought to us. He himself presented us a cow, for which we gave him a ferda. At four o’clock we were able to proceed with oars: we navigate to E. and E.N.E. The shores are surprisingly elevated since we were here, and a considerable drainage of water, probably the last one, seems especially to have taken place within these few days. The Nile is not broader here than the Sobàt. Dry grass-reeds at the right; large hillocks of decayed ant-castles at the left. Five o’clock, N.E.; the foot of an island on the left, behind which the river becomes broad, and a group of Shilluks are stationed there on the ground, whilst further below they have taken possession of the ant-hills, and stand in the form of a pyramid. The Turks are dreadfully afraid of these people, and say that they are “batalin” (bad), because they are aware that the Shilluks know them well. Feïzulla Capitan has had a number of cartridges made for his pistols, and Selim Capitan wears his thick white woollen trousers, and not without cause.

Soon after five o’clock we stop, conformably to the wisdom of our high dignitaries, at the uninhabited right shore, which is considerably higher than the left, and belongs to the country of the Dinkas, whilst the Shilluks appear to possess the mouth of the Sobàt, although not protected by forts and guns. Suliman Kashef was pursued a few days ago by a lion, notwithstanding he had four halberdiers with him, but he happily escaped the danger. To shew his gratitude to Allah, he gave every one of his crew twenty-five piasters.