The preliminary miseries of a great journey being at length over, I rose
early on the morning of the 30th of March and started from the Masheeah,
a kind of suburb of Tripoli, distant in the country, at six. Hope and
the spirit of adventure sustained my courage; but it is always sad to
part with those we love, even at the call of duty. However, I at length
mustered strength to bid adieu to my wife--the almost silent adieu of
affection. How many things that were thought were left unsaid on either
side! It will be pleasant to fill up all blanks when we talk of these
days after a safe return from this arduous undertaking.
It was a fresh, cheerful morning, succeeding several days of sultry
weather--an auspicious commencement of the journey. My chaouch, Mohammed
Souweea, preceded me on his great horse, murmuring some Arab ditty, and
I followed hard on my little donkey. The desert assails the walls of
Tripoli, and in half an hour we were in the Sahara sands, which here and
there rise in great mounds. I should have liked to have pushed on to
some considerable distance at once; but the habits of the country are
dilatory, and one must conform to them. In a couple of hours we came to
the chaouch's tent, where he had a wife, five children, and seven
brothers, one of whom was blind. He, too, was to go through the sad
ceremony of parting with his family; and he burst into tears when they
surrounded and embraced him.
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