xposed to dry. Hardly
had they descended when the sound of the river in the darkness beneath
told us that the water had arrived, and the men, dripping with wet, had
just sufficient time to drag their heavy burdens up the bank.

All was darkness and confusion, everybody talking and no one listening;
but the great event had occurred; the river had arrived "like a thief in
the night". On the morning of the 24th of June, I stood on the banks of
the noble Atbara River at the break of day. The wonder of the desert!
Yesterday there was a barren sheet of glaring sand, with a fringe of
withered bushes and trees upon its borders, that cut the yellow expanse
of desert. For days we had journeyed along the exhausted bed; all
Nature, even in Nature's poverty, was most poor: no bush could boast a
leaf, no tree could throw a shade, crisp gums crackled upon the stems
of the mimosas, the sap dried upon the burst bark, sprung with the
withering heat of the simoom. In one night there was a mysterious
change. Wonders of the mighty Nile! An army of water was hastening to
the wasted river. There was no drop of rain, no thunder-cloud on the
horizon to give hope. All had been dry and sultry, dust and desolation
yesterday; to-day a magnificent stream, some five hundred yards in width
and from fifteen to twenty feet in depth, flowed through the dreary
desert! Bamboos and reeds, with trash of all kinds, were hurried along
the muddy waters. Where were all the crowded inhabitants of the pool?
The prison doors were broken, the prisoners were released, and rejoiced
in the mighty stream of the Atbara.

The 24th of June, 1861, was a memorable day. Although this was actually
the beginning of my work, I felt that by the experience of this night
I had obtained a clew to one portion of the Nile mystery, and that, as
"coming events cast their shadows before," this sudden creation of a
river was but the shadow of the great cause. The rains were pouring in
Abyssinia! THESE WERE SOURCES OF THE NILE!

The journey along the margin of the Atbara was similar to the route from
Berber, through a vast desert, with a narrow band of trees that marked
the course of the river. The only change was the magical growth of the
leaves, which burst hourly from the swollen buds of the mimosas. This
could be accounted for by the sudden arrival of the river, as the water
percolated rapidly through the sand and nourished the famishing roots.

At Gozerajup, two hundred and forty-s