losed 4,000,000 of people, and the Nile was bridged from shore to
shore. Turning from this strange land, I encamped on the border of the
Nubian Desert, and prepared to set out on camel-back toward the sources
of the Nile.

In conjunction with the local officials I began the necessary
preparations, which involved the selection of forty-two camels, three
donkeys, and nineteen servants. My ample provision and preparation
consisted of the camels' feed--durah and barley, stowed in plaited
saddle-bags; filling the goatskins with water, each containing an
average of five gallons. Eighty were required for the journey. Three
sheep, a coup-full of chickens, a desert range, a wall-tent, with the
other supplies, made up over 10,000 pounds of baggage as our caravan,
entering the northern door of the barren and dreary steppe, felt its way
through a deep ravine paved with boulders, shifting sands, and dead
camels. We soon left the bluffs and crags which form the barrier between
the Nile and the desolate land beyond, and then indeed the real journey
began.

Our camp apparatus was quite simple, consisting of a few plates, knives
and forks, blankets and rugs, a kitchen-tent, and a pine table; and this
outfit formed the nucleus of our nomadic village, not omitting the rough
cooking-utensils. I recall now one of these strange scenes in that
distant region, under the cloudless sky, beneath the Southern Cross. A
few feet distant from my canvas chateau was my aged Arab cook,
manipulating his coals, his tongs, and preparing the hissing mutton, the
savory pigeons and potatoes. The cook is the most popular man on such an
expedition, and is neither to be coaxed nor driven. The baggage-camels
were disposed upon the ground, a few yards distant, eating their grain
and uttering those loud, yelping, beseeching sounds--a compound of an
elephant's trumpet and a lion's roar--which were taken up, repeated by
the chorus, and re-echoed by the hills. These patient animals, denuded
of their loads and water, the latter having been corded in mats, became
quiet only with sleep. Add to these scenes and uproar the deafening
volubility of twenty Arabs and Nubians, each shouting within the true
barbaric key, the seven-eighths nudity of the blacks, the elaborate and
flashing wear of the upper servants, and the small asperities of this my
menial world--all of these with a refreshing breeze, a clear atmosphere,
the air laden with ozone and electric life, the sky invit