The people are preparing to thresh their corn, and I was interested in observing all the details of their process.  They had scattered yesterday evening the full ripe grain in its dry stalks over the ground, in the form of a large circle, to the depth of about two inches; and had then smoothed the sand all around in small ridges, so that if a thief came during the night they might observe his footmarks.  They thresh out the grain by means of four or five asses or camels tied abreast, and driven round and round over this primitive floor.  Great waste is occasioned by allowing the grain to mix with and sink in the sand; the task of winnowing is most difficult afterwards.

27th.—­This day I had some conversation with Boro, the Sheikh of Aghadez, about the country and localities of Aheer,—­a Saharan kingdom never yet explored, and which we intend to traverse on our circuitous route across the desert.  It appears that Aheer is the general name of the whole cluster of towns and districts; that Aghadez is the medineh, or city; and that Asouty is a town on the line of the caravan route to Soudan,—­a regular halting-place.  Asben and Asbenouah are other names given to this same territory, and do not denote other countries.  The Tibboos and Bornouese describe the whole territory of Fezzan as Zoilah, a name derived from that of the ancient capital, Zoueelah.  These double names have hitherto caused great confusion in laying down unvisited places in the desert.  If we can penetrate and explore the kingdom of Aheer or Asben, it will be doing a great service to geography.

28th.—­I am studying rural life in the neighbourhood of Mourzuk, as if it were to be my occupation.  Scarcely a day passes that I do not escape from the crowded town and wander, either morning or evening, into the gardens, the groves, and the fields.  The water raised by rude machinery from the wells is always dancing along in little runnels.  The chattering of women crosses my path right and left.  Groups of labourers or gardeners occur frequently.  A man this day valued a date-palm at a mahboub, and I am told that the greater number are not worth more than a shilling of English money.  To avert the evil eye from the gardens, the people put up the head of an ass, or some portion of the bones of that animal.  The same superstition prevails in all the oases that stud the north of Africa, from Egypt to the Atlantic, but the people are unwilling to explain what especial virtue there exists in an ass’s skull.  We go sometimes to shoot doves in the gardens; but these birds are very shy, and after the first shot fly from tree to tree and keep out of range.  So we stroll about making observations, to console ourselves for the loss of sport.  We noticed several cotton-bushes, but this useful plant is not cultivated here except that it may ornament the gardens with its green.  I have just eaten of the heart of the date-tree.  It is of a very delicious bitter, and is a choice dish at feasts.