400 JOURNEY TO CENTRAL AFRICA.

lated mountain peaks, which now appeared on both sides of the river Bjebel Arambo, with its high, precipitous sides and notched summit, stood steeped in soft purple vapor — a beautiful object above the long lines of palms and the green level of the islands in the river. The fields on the western bank were mostly taken up with young wheat, though I saw a single one of ripe barley, which a black Barabra was reaping, cutting off the stalks about one-third of the way below the heads, and depositing them in heaps. By noon, I knew from the land-marks that we must be opposite the island of Tombos, where there are some ruins. I made inquiries for it, but the bank was almost deserted, and the few inhabitants I found gathered in straw huts here and there among the rank palmgroves, could tell me nothing about it. All agreed, however, that there was no ferry at this part of the Nile, and to swim across was out of the question. The crocodiles swarm here, and are quite delicate in their tastes, much preferring white flesh to black. So my hope of Tombos vanished like that of Argo.

Beyond the island is a little ruined village, called Hannek, and here I took leave of Bar Dongola, in which I had been travelling ten days, and entered Bar El-Mahass, the kingdom of my friend Melek Byaab. The character of th country changed on the very border. Long ridges of loose blocks of sandstone and granite, as at Assouan and Akaba Grerri, in Soudan, appeared in front, at first on the western bank, but soon throwing their lines across the stream and forming weirs and rapids in its current. The river is quite narrow, in some places not a hundred yards broad, and leads a very tortuous course, bearing away towards the north-west, until it meets the majestic barrier of Bjebel Foga, when it turns to the north