"Don't go upon so absurd an errand; nobody knows anything about
the Nile, neither will any one discover its source. We do not
even know the source of the Atbara; how should we know the source
of the great Nile. A great portion of the Atbara flows through
the Pasha of Egypt's dominions; the firman in your possession
with his signature, will insure you respect, so long as you
remain within his territory; but if you cross his frontier, you
will be in the hands of savages. The White Nile is the country of
the negroes; wild, ferocious races who have neither knowledge of
God nor respect for the Pasha, and you must travel with a
powerful armed force; the climate is deadly; how could you
penetrate such a region to search for what is useless even should
you attain it? But how would it be possible for a lady, young and
delicate, to endure what would kill the strongest man? Travel
along the Atbara river into the Taka country, there is much to be
seen that is unexplored; but give up the mad scheme of the Nile
source."

There was some sense in old Halleem Effendi's advice; it was the
cool and cautious wisdom of old age, but as I was not so elderly,
I took it "cum grano salis." He was a charming old gentleman, the
perfect beau ideal of the true old style of Turk, but few
specimens of which remain; all that he had said was spoken in
sincerity, and I resolved to collect as much information as
possible from the grey-headed authorities before I should
commence the expedition. I was deeply impressed with one fact,
that until I could dispense with an interpreter it would be
impossible to succeed, therefore I determined to learn Arabic as
speedily as possible.