r arduous journey.

The heat when crossing the desert was great; not a bird nor an insect
was to be seen moving through the air; but the nights were beautiful and
perfectly still, gentle breezes cooling the air. By digging a few
inches into the hot, loose soil, a cool and soft bed was obtained.
Through wide districts the surface was covered with salt, and from the
sides of hollows where it was broken, hung beautiful crystals like the
finest frost-work.

Before proceeding far, objects sufficient to create the deepest horror
in their minds were met with. In all directions the ground was covered
with the skeletons of those who had perished in attempting to cross the
wilderness. At first only one or two were seen, but afterwards as many
as fifty or sixty were passed in a day. At one place a hundred were
found together, and near the wells of El Hammar they were lying too
thickly to be counted. One morning as Denham, dozing on his horse, was
riding, he was startled by a peculiar sound of something crashing under
the animal's feet, and, on looking down, he found that he was trampling
over two human skeletons, one of the horse's feet having driven a skull
before him like a ball. To some of the bones portions of the flesh and
hair still adhered, and the features of others were distinguishable.
Two skeletons of females lay close together, who had evidently died in
each other's arms.

The Arabs, accustomed to such scenes, laughed at the sympathy exhibited
by the English, observing, with a curse on their fathers, that they were
only blacks. There can be no doubt that the larger group consisted of a
number of slaves captured by the Sultan of Fezzan, during a late
expedition he had made into Soudan. His troops, having left Bornou with
an insufficient supply of provisions, allowed their unhappy captives to
perish, while they made their escape with the food intended to support
them.

One evening the major exhibited a book of drawings made by Captain Lyon,
to Boo-Khaloum. The portraits he understood, but he could not
comprehend the landscapes, and would look at one upside down. On seeing
a beautiful print of sand-wind in the desert, though it was twice
reversed, he exclaimed: "Why, it is all the same!" Probably a European,
even, who had never before cast his eye on the representation of a
landscape, would be long before he could appreciate the beauties of the
picture. One beautiful moonlight evening Denham exhibited his