Our blacks keep up
pretty well. There are now nine of them; five men, three women, and a
boy. They eat barley-meal and oil, and now and then get a cup of coffee.
I also feed the Fezzanee marabout, besides those specially attached to
the expedition. As to the camel-drivers, they are an ill-bred,
disobliging set, and I give them nothing extra. How different are our
negroes! They are most cheerful. As we proceed, they run hither and
thither collecting edible herbs; and, like children, making the way more
long in their sport. Sometimes their amusements are less pleasant, and
they seem systematically to take refuge from _ennui_, in a quarrel. Two
of them began to pelt each other with stones to-day; allies dropped in
on either side; laughter was succeeded by execrations; and the whole
caravan at length came to loggerheads.
The sidr, or lote-tree, is abundant in these parts, and it is curious to
notice how in the spring season the green leaves sprout out all over the
white burnt-up shrub. All vegetation in the desert that is not perfectly
new seems utterly withered by time. There is scarcely any medium between
the bud and the dead leaf. Infancy is scorched at once into old age.
As we advanced, the country appeared to put on sterner forms, until
suddenly, in the afternoon, the rocks opened to disclose the Wady
Esh-Shrab nestling amidst limestone hills, and containing the pleasant
oasis of Mizdah.
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