It is difficult to describe the state of mind in which I write down all these things.  Here we are helplessly encamped, our camels driven away, and no signs of their return.  Certainly En-Noor sends us promises that he will do what he can for us; but though we do not doubt his goodwill we begin to be uncertain of his power.  He is still suffering from rheumatism and fever, and they tell us he is not able to receive strangers.  Let us hope that this seclusion bodes no ill to our interests.  Some of his female relations came this morning to ask for little presents.  I gave the mother of Mohammed, who commanded our escort, a handkerchief.  This young man has, we are told, gone out this morning alone to search for our lost camels.  Meanwhile, in the hope that our property may be restored to us, I propose to write to Zinder for an escort.  It is better and more agreeable to pay escorts than robbers in these countries.  But I must wait for the recovery of En-Noor.  They tell us now that there are no robbers or bandits along the Soudan route at all; and the proof cited is, that the smallest caravans pass in safety.  The property of Christians, however, will probably be considered as common property, the lawful prey of every one who may be disposed to possess himself of it.  This news of peace, therefore, concerns us not.  We may still have to buy our way.

The thermometer under the tent this evening, at an hour after dark, was 81 deg.  Fahrenheit.

7th.—­I rose late, after a more refreshing sleep than usual, and felt much better in health.  The sky was overcast with thick clouds; and the thermometer stood at 77 deg. at seven A.M.  My first question was, whether any news had been heard of the camels; but I only learned that on the previous day many people had gone in search of them, scouring the country.  The servants notice that I am much depressed, and endeavour to cheer me.  On the whole I must say that they show considerable good feeling.

I remember now with pleasure, that when we were attacked on the road and I appeared with arms amongst them, they always insisted upon my going to my tent, exclaiming:  “Go, O Consul, to your tent; rest there:  you shall not fight.”  Some added:  “Let them kill us first; then you may fight if you please:  but whilst we are living remain in your tent!” These were not mere words, but expressed sympathy and fidelity.  I ought to mention, that all along this journey I went among the people by the name of Consul Yak[=o]b, whilst Dr. Barth was known as the Reis, and Dr. Overweg as the Taleb.

On this occasion these poor fellows threw words of consolation to me in the midst of their bartering for provisions, which at the present moment was their greatest care, if I except that of eating them.  They have been living on short commons, and have suffered as much as we have.  Want of regular food may have had an effect on me.  I find that my hopes of good health are to be disappointed.  I am obliged to keep my bed this afternoon, and to refrain from nourishment.  Meanwhile a storm again comes on, laden with sand, which covers everything.  Then follows violent rain, which lasts until late in the evening.