198 ■ JOURNEY TO CENTRAL AFRICA.

The next morning I walked ahead, following the river hank, but the camels took a shorter road through the Desert, and passed me unobserved. After walking two hours, I sought for them in every direction, and finally came upon Ali, who was doing his best to hold my dromedary down. No sooner had I straddled the beast than he rose and set off on a swinging gallop to rejoin the caravan. During the day our road led along the edge of the Desert, sometimes in the sand and sometimes over gravelly soil, covered with patches of thorny shrubs. Until I reached the village of Abou-Hashym, in the evening, there was no mark of cultivation on the eastern bank, though I saw in places the signs of fields which had long since been deserted. I - passed several burying grounds, in one of which the guide showed me the grave of Mr. Melly, an English gentleman who died there about a year previous, on his return to Egypt with his family, after a journey to Khartoum. His tomb was merely an oblong mound of unburnt brick, with a rough stone at the head and foot. It had been strictly respected by the natives, who informed me that large sums were given to them to keep it in order and watch it at night. They also told me that after his death there was great difEeulty in procuring a shroud. The only muslin in the neighborhood was a piece belonging to an old Shekh, who had kept it many years, in anticipation of his own death. It was sacred, having been sent to Mecca and dipped in the holy well of Zemzem. In this the body was wrapped and laid in the earth. The grave was in a dreary spot, out of sight of the river and surrounded by desert thorns.

We had a strong north-wind all day. The sky was cloudless, but a fine white film filled the air, and the distant moun-