FROM THE ATBARA TO WAD HAMED 67 remains are laid, but of that in which their glory survives. . . . For the whole earth is a sepulchre of famous men: not only are they commemorated by columns and inscriptions, but there dwells also an unwritten memorial of them, graven not on stone, but in the hearts of men.” | The evening before we reached Nasri Island we were suddenly overtaken by a terrific sandstorm. Two vast columns of sand rose straight up from the desert and swept rapidly towards us. The sky was black with clouds, birds ceased to sing, and the grasshoppers chirruped no more, as all living creatures, from ourselves downward, prepared for the coming terror. The Zamaz at once tied up to the bank, and we waited for the hurricane. Suddenly it came rushing upon us. Everyone clutched books, camp-chairs, cameras, plates, bottles— whatever lay within reach—and sat tight, while the gunboat heeled over beneath the shock. The storm was shortlived; streams of sunshine broke afresh through the clouds, and birds and insects came forth from their hidingplaces, and rejoiced that the tyranny was overpast. We speedily collected our scattered