Sir William Cornwallis Harris (continued 6)

Corresponding tongues abutting from the opposite banks, divide the expanse into two equal bays. A group of wild Bedouins watered their camels on the shore, and in the centre Behemoth rolled his unwieldy carcase to the surface amid floating crocodiles—protruding his droll snout, which glistened in slimy ugliness, to blow ever and anon a snort that might be heard at the distance of a mile. A two-ounce ball, duly hardened with antimony, took effect in the skull of one of the boldest with a crash that was not to be mistaken; but although the monster went down, leaving a gallon of blood to denote the disaster that had befallen him, he had temporarily disappeared; and by the incredulous Danákil the assurance was received with a sneering shake of the head that his carcass must infallibly be found floating in the morning.

Much difficulty had been experienced in bringing the horses and mules across the river, and one obstinate donkey, but too well aware of its inability to swim, having pointedly refused to take the water, was towed over by main strength at the end of a rope. Inflated skins kept the animal afloat; but the stubborn head sinking below the surface, the poor beast landed with sides distended almost to bursting by too copious draughts of muddy water. His master, an aged washerman from Hindostan, loving Neddy as the apple of his eye, in the simplicity of his old heart, adopted the prescription of some wag who had facetiously recommended suspension by the heels, in order to try the ancient discipline of the Humane Society for the recovery of drowned mortals. A fit of apoplexy was the result, and the donkey expired under the lancet.

Followed by the lamentations of the disconsolate owner, the carcass was dragged some twenty yards beyond the limits of the encamping ground; and no sooner had the dark night thrown a shroud over it, than the foul scavengers of the forest assembled in numbers round the prey, and regardless of a blazing watch-fire that had been kindled to avert the visits of the monarch of the wilderness, commenced their revels with the demoniacal laugh indicative of a right happy mood. Whilst the rain descended in pitiless torrents, a continual chuckle of the highest merriment, which ran through all the various notes of a clear throat, resounded afar amid the crunching of bones and munching of flesh—a deeper growl from some larger beast of prey, now and then varying the infernal harmony, to be followed by another ringing laugh as of a whole legion of devils. Vivid flashes of lightning played over the scene of this midnight carnival; the violent snapping of branches in the adjacent forest proclaimed the nocturnal foray of the elephant and hippopotamus; the loud roar and the startling snort were neither wanting to complete the concert of the wild Háwash, and long ere the morning dawned, the place of the carcass knew it not, every vestige, even to the skull, having found a sepulchre in the maw of “the laughing hyaena.”

Volume One—Chapter Thirty Five.

Wadi Azbóti. Arrival of a Spy from the Abyssinian Mountains.

“The Robi is not dead,” was the first falsehood that greeted the ear when daylight had returned. To have told the truth on this occasion must have redounded to the personal advantage of the informant, but he had nobly upheld the national character at the sacrifice of a handful of his much-loved tobacco. Repairing to the margin of the lake, the freckled pink sides of a defunct hippopotamus were to be seen high above the surface, as the distended carcass floated like a monstrous buoy at anchor. It had become entangled among the tall tamarisks that rose through the shallow water near the brink, but hawsers were carried out with all diligence, and with the aid of the rudder-like tail, the Colossus was towed to shore, and landed among the mud under the acclamations of the assembled caravan.

“Where the carcase is, there shall the eagles be gathered together.” A formidable band of “Bones” were already squatted at a respectful distance, to watch the progress of events, and no sooner had the teeth been hewn out than they laid aside their bows and quivers, and having stripped the thick hide from off the ribs, attacked the mountain of flesh with the vigour of a South African horde. Donkeys and women were laden with incredible despatch, and staggering under huge flaps of meat, the archers had soon left the scene of operations. Two reservoirs, each lying at the distance of a musket shot, had meanwhile been visited—the one a sulphuric basin of considerable extent, the other a vast sheet of water, embosomed in trees, dotted over with wood-clothed islets, and teeming with hippopotami. But this was neutral ground; and the fears of the Danákil conjuring into existence a host of lurking foes, the period allowed for investigation was brief.

Bidding adieu with light hearts to the muddy Háwash, the party resumed its march so soon as the camel furniture had become sufficiently dry; and skirting the Dubbélli lake, from the waters of which Behemoth blew a parting salute, passed the Bedouin hamlet of Mulku-kúyu in the Dófah district, to a fourth pond bearing the euphonous title of Ailabello. Prettily situated in a secluded green hollow, and presenting about the same circumference as its neighbour, below which it is considerably depressed, this pool resembles a circular walled cistern, and is obviously the basin of an old crater. Its waters, alkaline, bitter, and strongly sulphureous even to the smell, receive constant accessions from a hot mineral well at the brink, and possessing the singular detergent property of bleaching the filthiest cloth, many of the Danákil were for once to be seen in flaunting white togas. Thence the road lay over a grassy plain, covered with volcanic sand and ashes, and shut in by cones of trivial altitude, forming another field of extinct craters, many very perfect, and each environed by its individual zone—whilst the circumjacent country, embracing a diameter of eight miles, exhibited through the superincumbent soil, tracts of jet black lava.

Apprehensions being entertained of the non-existence of pools at the station suited for the encampment, still some miles in advance, a détour was made from the main road to Ado, “the White Water,” a very extensive lake, at which the skins were replenished and the thirst of the animals slaked. A belt of high acacia jungle embosomed this noble expanse, which exceeded two miles in diameter, the glassy surface in parts verdant with sheets of the lotus in full flower, and literally covered with aquatic fowls. Geese, mallard, whistling teal, herons, and flamingoes, with a new species of the parra, were screaming in all directions as they winged their flight from the point invaded, where a party of Bedouin shepherdesses deposed to having seen a troop of elephants bathing not half an hour before—the numerous prints of their colossal feet remaining in testimony, sunk fresh and heavy on the moist sands.

Prior to crossing the Háwash, the only sheep observed were the Ovis aries laticaudata, or Hejáz lamb, with sable head and neck, thick fatty tail, and fleece composed of hair instead of wool. This species had now, to the westward of the river, given place to the larger Abyssinian breed, with huge pendulous appendages of truly preposterous size, encumbered with fat, and vibrating to the animal’s progress. Parti-coloured goats, armed with long wrinkled horns, still diversified the flocks, which were uniformly attended by small dogs with foxlike heads, spotted yellow and white, and evidently high in favour with their dark mistresses.

Several of these females wore around the neck large tinkling brazen bells, borrowed from the collar of an Abyssinian mule, and forming a very suitable accompaniment to the massive fabrications of pewter and copper which loaded their ears. Their long black tresses were braided into an infinity of streamers, each resembling the lash of a schoolboy’s whip, and various most ingenious tattooed devices scarred their arms, temples, and bosoms. By the beaux of the caravan, unqualified homage was paid to certain coquettes, who carried milk jars curiously wrought of palm leaves, and studded with manifold cowrie shells. To the backs of sundry weird harridans were strapped skins containing sour curds, which attracted flies in the tens of millions usually seen around the molasses at a Banian’s stall. No attempt was made to disturb those that clustered in their blear-inflamed eyes; and the swarms collected about the wrinkled comers of the mouth, were only put to flight when the hand was applied to second the wonted exclamation of surprise at the appearance of a white face, “Nubbee Mohammadoo!”

Numerous wigwams peeped through the extensive forest of aged camel-thorns, which borders on Lé Ado, and eventually debouches upon a succession of barren plains covered with herds of antelope. Two rough stone enclosures by the wayside were surmounted by poles, from which dangled the heads of as many lions, dilapidated by time, although still enveloped in the skin, and said to have been speared on this spot many years before by the Bedouins, who exalted these trophies in commemoration of the deed.

Immediately beyond this point lay the encamping ground at Wady Azbóti, where numerous shallow pools had been filled by the recent rain, but where the ill-starred cattle were compelled to content themselves with water only, not a vestige of grass or green herb remaining in the vicinity. It had, in feet, now become a proverb, that these two essential materials to existence could never be found in the Adel wilderness in one and the same place. Vast flights of locusts, which had assisted to lay the country bare, still carrying desolation in their progress, were shaping their destructive course towards Abyssinia. They quite darkened the air at the moment that the caravan halted; and a host of voracious adjutants wheeled high above the dense cloud, at one moment bursting with meteor-like velocity through the serried phalanx, and at the next stalking over the field to fill their capacious maws with the victims which their long scythe-fashioned pinions had swept incontinently from the sky.

The groves around Azbóti afforded a welcome supply of bustard, partridges, and guinea-fowl, together with the mhorr, and pigmy antelope; and on the return of the heavily-loaded Nimrods to the tent, infinite diversion was found in the horror depicted on the physiognomy of the warlike leader of the Hy Somauli band, whose old fashioned bob wig, quaint gait, and antiquated comicalities, had justly invested him with the sobriquet of “Doctor Syntax.” The professor of natural history was as usual busily engaged in the preparation of cabinet specimens, when the old oddity advanced to see what was going on; and as the bodies of beetles and locusts were subjected to the process of toasting over the fire, his droll features were distorted by lines which revealed plainly enough an inward conviction entertained, that the operation was none other than culinary, and that the hideous insects were to be eaten.

But the war-whoop, without which few days ever drew to a close, had aroused the doctor from his cogitations; and at the head of his men he was presently in hot pursuit of a band of ruffians, who had cleverly contrived to drive off a camel pertaining to the káfilah. Returning with the booty after a long chase, the exploit was celebrated by the war-dance, which for an hour kept the camp in a fierce uproar. Formed in a circle, the excited warriors crouched low to the ground as they stomped vis-à-vis, and howled with the utmost fury. Then rising with one accord, they brandished their spears aloft, and vaulted frantically in the air through a maze of intricate figures. Next arrayed in line, a brave sprung ever and anon to the front, and striding up and down with mincing gait, went through strange gesticulations and contortions, as he recited the prowess of the dan, and urged it to future deeds of valour—the clash of spear and shield responding at every pause, whilst the wild chorus pealed along the ranks. Confusion now ensued: the band was engaged in a pantomimic conflict. Savage after savage, rolling his eyeballs, sprang panther-like across the loins of his nearest neighbour, and clinging fast with his beds, tightly clasped his erect opponent with the muscles of his legs. Creeses flashed brightly in the air; mock wounds were inflicted, and the form of dividing the windpipe having been duly gone through, long and loud arose, with the renewed dance, triumphant strains of “Awey birooah! awey birooah!” “I have slain my foe! I have slain my foe!”

Towards the close of the day, which was hot and muggy under the steam that arose from the saturated soil, a Bedouin rode consequentially into camp, and, after making his observations, departed even as he had come, without deigning an explanation of any sort. Attention was particularly attracted to this prying stranger, from the circumstance of his grey steed being branded on flank and wither with the Ethiopian sign of the cross. Delivering no message, although he was conjectured to be a retainer of Wulásma Mohammad, the Abogáz or custos of the frontier of Efát, whose post was now not distant more than twenty miles, the mysterious demeanour of this spy did not fail to strengthen a report, which had long been in circulation among the mischievous Danákil that at the court of Shoa, the British were far from being regarded in the light of welcome visitors, and further, that an armed party was in readiness to oppose entrance into the kingdom—a rumour which, however improbable, was unfortunately further supported by the extraordinary and unaccountable fact of no sort of recognition having, up to this period, been vouchsafed by His Most Gracious Majesty the King.

Rising tier above tier to the supremely soaring peak of Mamrat, “the Mother of Grace,” with her domed head ever canopied in clouds, the lofty mountains which fortify the royal dominions now shot like giant castles from the sandy plain, the most conspicuous features in the landscape. Volcanic impediments, such as had beset the heretofore weary path, had at length finally ceased, but the glowing sulphur lulls of Sullála reared their fantastic spires on the verge of the monotonous expanse; and high among the more venerable witnesses to the history of the troubled lowlands, the position of Ankóber was discernible to the naked eye, with the steep Cháka range stretching beyond at still greater elevation. The luxuriant verdure which clothed the rugged sides of the nearer slopes, whilst it contrasted strongly with the aridity of the barren tracts at their base, indicated the presence of the autumnal rains; and hereof further evidence was afforded in the low grumbling of frequent thunder, echoing like distant artillery among the serrated summits, as the heavy black clouds at intervals drew their smoky mantle across the scene, and veiled the monsters from sight.

The departure of the silent spy was followed by the arrival of a most boisterous visitor from the highlands. The hazy sun, shorn of his bright beams, and looming a dull fiery globe in the dense mist, had no sooner disappeared in wrath, than a furious whirlwind tore along the desert plain, and during the gloomy twilight, the storm, which had been cradled amid the mighty mountains, descended in desolation, like an angry giant from his keep.

Black masses of cloud, rolling impetuously along the steep acclivities, settled at length over the face of the waste, for a time shrouding the very earth in its dark dank embrace, only to render more striking the contrast to the dazzling light which in another moment had succeeded. Brilliant corruscations blazed and scintillated in every quarter of the fervid heavens, hissing and spluttering through the heavy fog, or darting like fiery serpents along the surface of the ground—at one instant awfully revealing the towering peaks that frowned far in the distance—at the next flashing in a hot sulphury flame through the centre of the encampment.

Meanwhile the deep roll of thunder continued without a moment’s intermission, the prolonged growl of each startling clap varying ever as it receded in a fitful change of intonation; whilst the walling of the blast, accompanied by the sharp rattle of hail, and the impetuous descent of torrents of rain, completed the horrors of a tempest which, now at its height, careered madly over the unbroken plain. The soil had soon swallowed the deluge to overflowing. Muddy rivulets poured through every quarter of the flooded bivouac; and the heavy tarpaulins, which had afforded some temporary shelter, proving of little further avail, the shivering but still watchful party were exposed during many dismal hours that ensued to all the merciless fury of this unappeasable hurricane.

Volume One—Chapter Thirty Six.

Valley of Kokaï—Hostilities of Wulásma Mohammad.

A cool cloudy morning succeeding to this dreary, boisterous and uncomfortable night, the caravan was in motion before sunrise across the uninteresting plain of Azbóti, in parts completely swamped, and covered towards its borders with one interminable sheet of the aloë and lilium, growing beneath spreading acacias upon a gravelly soil. Then commenced a belt of hummocks, formed by prominences abutting from the high land of Abyssinia—a succession of hill and dale, thickly-wooded with a variety of timber, and still clothed with an undergrowth of the wild aloë, through which wary herds of Baéza threaded their way. The road soon entered the pebbly bed of a mountain stream, running easterly between precipitous basaltic cliffs towards the Háwash; but although such torrents of rain had fallen the preceding night, no water was discovered in the wooded wady of Kokaï, until reaching Dathára, nearly thirteen miles from the last encampment, where the party partook of the first crystal brook that had occurred during the entire weary journey from the sea-coast.

Three thousand feet above the ocean, with an invigorating, breeze and a cloudy sky, the climate of this principal pass into Southern Abyssinia, was that of a fine summer’s day in England, rather than of the middle of July between the tropics. Here for the first time during the pilgrimage, the tent was erected under the shade of a wide-spreading tamarind, which, among many other trees of noble growth, graced the sequestered spot. Above the surrounding foliage the long white roofs of many of the royal magazines were visible, perched high on the blue mountain side. In the forked branches overhead were piled haystack-looking nests of gigantic dimensions, thatched with every attention to neatness and comfort—the small aperture left by the feathered architect turned in every instance to the eastward, and carefully secured from the weather; and perched on every twig, an assemblage of strange birds displayed their gay glittering plumage, or filled the cool air with melodious song.

But from the summit of an adjacent basaltic knoll, which was ascended towards the close of day, there burst upon the delighted gaze a prospect more than ever alluring of the Abyssinian Alps. Hill rose above hill, clothed in the most luxuriant and vigorous vegetation. Mountain towered over mountain in a smiling chaos of disorder; and the soaring peaks of the most remote range threw their hoary heads, sparkling with a white mantle of hail, far into the cold azure sky. Villages and hamlets embosomed in dark groves of evergreens were grouped in Arcadian repose. Rich fields of every hue chequered the deep lone valley; and the sun, bidding a diurnal farewell to his much-loved plains of the east, shot a last stream of golden light, varied as the hues of the Iris, over the mingled beauties of wild woodland scenery, and the labours of the Christian husbandman.

No delegate with greetings from the Negoos awaiting the British Embassy, and the frontier town of Fárri, where caravans are received by His Majesty’s officers, being now only five miles distant, a letter was prepared, of which Mohammad Ali volunteered to be the bearer. In signifying gracious acquiescence to this arrangement, the Ras el Káfilah gravely intimated that the escort of Hy Somauli spearmen, famished at Killulloo by Ibrahim ibn Hámeïdo, declined permitting the departure of the son of Ali Abi, until they should have received the sum at which they were pleased to estimate their services. Little reason existing to be satisfied with the vigilance of this band of warriors, not one of the component members whereof, Doctor Syntax inclusive, had adopted the plan proposed by the poet for lengthening the days of existence by stealing a few hours from the night, compliance to the full extent of the exorbitant demand had previously been evaded. But as Izhák, in whom the truth was not, now falsely asserted and maintained that the Akil had taken his personal security for the sum, and as it was obviously of the last importance that arrival on the frontier should be timely reported, the money was reluctantly paid, and the courier set forth on his journey.

Rain was again ushering in the early hours of the night, when the unpleasant intelligence arrived that a certain Wulásma Mohammad was the delinquent, and that he had contrived effectually to thwart the intentions of his royal master. The king had commanded that his British visitors should be received on the western bank of the Háwash by an escort of honour. Under the commander-in-chief of the body-guard, three hundred matchlock-men had been for this purpose detached from the troops on service with His Majesty, and had actually reached Fárri, whence the jealous Moslem had dared to send them back upon the ridiculous pretext of being unable to obtain any tidings of the expected Franks.

This important functionary, in addition to his office of state-gaoler, is the hereditary Abogáz of the Mohammadan population of Argóbba on the east of Shoa, and the nature of his government exalts him in the eyes of all to the importance of a king. With the title of Wulásma—a word of uncertain derivation, known to Ludolf, the great historian of Abyssinia, who styles the dignitary “Pro rex of Efát”—he possesses unbounded influence over the frontier, his immediate duties being to preserve amicable relations with the Adaïel occupying the plain of the Háwash, and to protect káfilahs and merchants arriving from the independent principality of Hurrur, or from the coast of Tajúra. His functions as keeper of the state prison secure for him the respect of all. Christians as well as Islams, who have the fear of a dungeon before their eyes; and although numerous Abogásoch or Wulásmoch, governors of small detached provinces, share his power, the name and influence of all are dim under the light that glares from his loop-holed residence at Góncho.

It is the invariable policy of the haughty Abogáz to assume the great man to all travellers, since it is generally understood that through him alone foreigners can be received and forwarded, or if necessary presented to the Negoos. This arrangement involves not only trouble, but considerable expense. His despotic Majesty claiming the prerogative of franking every visitor through his territories, and a portion of the attendant outlay falling upon the functionary who may be honoured with the royal commands.

Openly opposed to European innovation, Mohammad particularly disliked the advent of the British Embassy, and was obviously doing his utmost to thwart the more liberal views of the crown, by treating the strangers with disrespect. The imperial order that an escort of matchlock-men should for the first time cross the hill frontier, and proceed into the plain of the Háwash, to do honour to the Christian guests, not only rankled in his Moslem breast, but was calculated to interfere with his resolution to preserve inviolate the avenues to the sea-coast. His intrigues had rendered abortive all attempts to communicate with the Court; and whilst the approach of the Embassy was not reported until its actual arrival at Dathára, his non-compliance with the order given had resulted most prejudicially, the Danákil guides being now more than ever unwilling to persuade themselves that the party would be welcome.

Preparations were making the following morning to continue the march to Fárri, when the burly functionary was seen pompously approaching with measured step, followed by a retinue of many hundred armed followers, whose shaven heads rose unturbaned above flowing white mantles. Far from announcing himself in the customary manner, he remained seated in portentous dignity, beneath the shade of a venerable tamarind by the road-side, until, every camel having been loaded, the caravan was moving off the ground. A peremptory message was then received through one of his myrmidons, to the effect that he stood strictly charged with the king’s commands to suffer not one of the party to advance until the next day, and that he was prepared to enforce the interdiction. There seemed little reason to doubt of this being a premeditated falsehood, as it afterwards proved to be; but the Ras el Káfilah having heard the injunction repeated in presence of the Wulásma Suleïman Moosa, Abogáz of Chánnoo, as coming direct from His Majesty, timidly declined any infringement, and again threw down the loads.

Condescending at length in moody sullenness to approach with his host of retainers, the triumphant potentate, armed with the rosary, or chaplet of one hundred beads, which denoted his intolerant faith, squeezed his pursy figure into a chair, and composed himself with much apparent satisfaction at the success that had attended his scheme of opposition. A debauched, ill-favoured, bloated specimen of mortality, the lines of intemperance were deeply graven on his truculent visage, which was at once cunning, sinister, and forbidding. But the party were not long troubled with his obnoxious presence. The reception he experienced, although civil, was distant and studiously formal, and the sun, beating in a full blaze upon his bald crown, rendered his position so extremely untenable, that after stiffly murmuring replies to the customary inquiries anent the health and well-being of his august master, he rose unceremoniously, and abruptly withdrew.

Throughout this brief and very unbending interview, a brawny retainer stood behind the chair, denuded to the waist. In his right hand he ostentatiously displayed the chief gaoler’s sword of state—a short heavy blade upon the model of the old Roman falchion, enclosed in a scabbard of massive silver; and his left arm supported a buckler of stiff bull’s hide, elaborately emblazoned with crescents and brass studs. The benevolent and prepossessing aspect of the Wulásma Suleïman Moosa, who occupied a second seat, offered a striking contrast to the repulsive arrogance of his scowling colleague. On his right side, protruding upwards with the curve of a scorpion’s tail, he wore a semicircular weapon, also denominated a sword, though in fact more nearly allied to a reaping-hook—a proud badge of office, with a fluted tulip-shaped termination to the silver scabbard, which, according to the wont of the despot, had been conferred on the occasion of his first installation in office, but which ludicrously interfered with comfort in an armchair.

During the residue of the day, the conduct of the state-gaoler was perfectly in unison with his character and previous hostile proceedings. He brought the white visitors neither presents nor supplies, according to the rules of Abyssinian hospitality; and although made fully aware that the camp was drained of provisions, prevented purchases by the undue exercise of his influence and authority. A pelting rain during the night, from which his sleek person was defended by naught save the pervious branches of a tamarind, had not tended to soften the asperities, or to alleviate the sourness of his aspect, when the day dawned; and it was only on finding the party prepared to advance at the hazard of forcible opposition, that he finally yielded the point, and betwixt his closed teeth muttered his grumbling consent to an arrangement which he felt longer unable with prudence to oppose. “The English are a great nation,” whispered the nephew of Ali Shermárki, as he passed the haughty Abogáz, “and you had better take care to treat them civilly. Wullahi! one of their ships of war would carry this káfilah over the water, and you and all your host of followers into the bargain.”

Volume One—Chapter Thirty Seven.

Dinómali. Greetings from the Negoos at Fárri, on the Frontier of his Dominions.

Gradually ascending through a hilly and well-wooded country, still a positive garden of the wild aloe, the road now led through a succession of deep glades, which opened in turn upon verdant mountain scenery; and at on early hour, after the first signs of cultivation had been afforded in the truly grateful sight of ploughs turning up the soil, the tents were erected on the open plain of Dinómali.

At this, the frontier station of Argóbba, are levied the royal import duties of ten per cent; and a scene of noise, bustle, and confusion did not fail to ensue, such as is wont to attend the arrival of every caravan. In his character of collector-general of customs, the pompous Wulásma took seat below a tree in the centre, whilst his myrmidons, beleaguering every load the moment it was removed from the camel, prevented all access on the part of the owner until scrutinising search had been instituted by the secretary for the salt trade, and the imperial scribes had, by a tedious process denominated writing, completed an inventory of contents. From time immemorial it had been the law of the realm to regard the despotic ruler as the proprietor of every moveable in the land; and it was not without many looks of incredulity and amazement that the custom-house officers now received the astounding intimation that they would touch the baggage of the British Embassy at their peril.

Thus for the first time thwarted in their prerogative of forcing open boxes, and inspecting the wares they contained, Débtera Tekla Zion and his brother scribes were tempted to attribute the opposition offered to the truth of a vague report already current, that a foreign king was being smuggled into Abyssinia for evil. And they were still standing in mute astonishment, with idle ink-horns dangling from their hands, lost in conjecture of the probable consequences involved by the unprecedented interference exercised, when a message was received expressive of the compliments and best wishes of Sáhela Selássie. Still at a distance from Ankóber, His Majesty had resolved, in order to hasten the interview with his guests, to proceed at once to the capital, whither the English were invited to repair with all possible expedition.

The arrival of this unlooked-for salutation, which was coupled with an affirmative answer to a request previously made, that the presents in charge of the Embassy might neither be interfered with, nor subjected to the usual custom-house scrutiny when crossing the frontier, had the effect of bringing to his senses the overbearing Wulásma; and, in accordance with the king’s instructions, oxen, sheep, bread, beer, and hydromel were liberally supplied without another moment’s demur. But a fresh source of delay and annoyance forthwith arose on the part of the Ras el Káfilah, whose latent object being to transfer the charge of Danákil caravans from the hands of the corpulent and now civil gaoler to those of Wulásma Suleïman Moosa, made the acceptance of supplies at the hand of the former a pretext for throwing up his functions and setting out to Ankóber, exclaiming as he mounted his mule in a towering passion, for the avowed purpose of laying his complaint at the footstool of the throne, “Am not I the brother of the Sultán of Tajúra?”

But the furious elder had not proceeded far on his adventurous journey, ere his ears were saluted by repeated discharges of musketry, accompanied by martial music and a solemn vocal chorus. These served to announce the advent of Ayto Kátama, commander-in-chief of the imperial body-guard, with the escort of honour consisting of three hundred matchlock-men, who were to have received the Embassy on the banks of the Háwash. The arrival of this important personage, whose schoolboyish sallies ill became his years and high military functions, was speedily followed by the appearance of Ayto Wolda Hána, governor of Ankóber, and first nobleman in the realm, also fraught with congratulations. His presence had the effect of recalling the irritated Ras to a sense of duty; and no efficient carriage having been provided by the Abogáz, it was finally arranged, after many difficulties, objections, and disputes, that the baggage should be transported to Fárri, other two miles in advance, where Mohammadan porters could be obtained in sufficient numbers to convey it to its final destination—the mountains in every part being deemed quite inaccessible to the camel.

Although the distance from Fárri did not exceed a mile, the lateness of the hour at which this accommodation was vouchsafed, rendered it impossible to carry the measure into effect until the following day. The governor of Ankóber meanwhile politely insisted upon charging himself with the baggage, his officious zeal extending even to the effects of private individuals, whereby much inconvenience was entailed. But notwithstanding his garrulous protestations, and the presence of so large a body of the royal troops, everything was finally left unprotected; and, before his negligence was discovered, four of the remaining mules had been stolen from their pickets by the marauders who infest the neighbourhood.

Loaded for the thirty-fifth and last time with the baggage of the British Embassy, the caravan, escorted by the detachment of Ayto Kátama, with flutes playing and muskets echoing, and the heads of the warriors decorated with white plumes, in earnest of their bold exploits during the late expedition, advanced on the afternoon of the 16th of July, to Fárri, the frontier town of the kingdom of Efát. Clusters of conical-roofed houses, covering the sloping sides of twin hills which form a gorge wherein the royal dues are deposited, here presented the first permanent habitations that had greeted the eye since leaving the sea-coast; rude and ungainly, but right welcome signs of transition from depopulated wastes to the abodes of man.

As well from the steepness of the rugged mountains of Abyssinia, which towered overhead, as from the pinching climate of their wintry summits, the camel becomes useless as a beast of burthen; and none being ever taken beyond the frontier, many of the Wulásma’s retinue now gazed at the ungainly quadrupeds for the first time. The “ship of the desert” has been created for the especial benefit of sultry, arid, and waterless plains, such as those now crossed, where no other domesticated animal could long exist, but where, even under the most scorching radiation of heat, when the skin peels from the parched lips of the pilgrim, and the horizon beams as with the fires of an hundred volcanoes, the soft lustrous eye of the patient dromedary loses not a jot of its wonted brilliancy. But numbers had been dreadfully wrung during the tedious march, those especially which carried tent-poles and other unmanageable burdens; and amongst others, two of the finest had sung under the weight of the galloper-gun. No sooner was the load now removed, than a swarm of parasitic birds, with brilliant golden eyes, here for the first time seen, swarmed around the galled part, and having dived into the gaping wounds, without causing perceptible annoyance to the sufferer, became so engrossed in the removal of ticks and maggots with their crimson bills, that several were made prisoner with the hand.

Boxes and bales as they arrived were deposited within a stone enclosure in the centre of the area; and the bloated Wulásma, again seated in regal dignity beneath an ancient acacia, which threw its slender shade over the heterogeneous pile, placing Ayto Wolda Hána upon his right hand, with the aid of the royal scribes and their ink-horns commenced an inventory de novo. Vigorous attempts to force open the cases were once more resisted, with complete success. Earnest expostulations tried in turn by the Moslem and the Christian, were alike unheeded; and amid noise, clamour, and confusion, such as could ill be described, the inquisitive functionaries were fain, as before, to content themselves with a list of packages in the gross. Rough conjectural estimates of the number of muskets contained in each matted roll were however clandestinely formed, by dint of squeezing and pinching; and these too were committed to writing, as though fears were entertained lest the king might now, in his own dominions, be defrauded of a portion of the investment transported in safety thither from a distant land.

Hajji Mohammad, a respectable old slave-dealer in the suite of the Abogáz, had during this interim obligingly undertaken to solve certain puzzling geographical questions proposed, and with a staff was methodically tracing on the sand, for the edification of his European audience, the position of the Háwash in its upper course. An insane old Hássóba, long resident at Fárri, whose head laboured under the effect of sundry wounds received in youth, had unfortunately become violently excited by too copious libations in honour of the safe arrival of his clansmen. To the annoyance of every one, he had been bawling incessantly for many hours, and he presently staggered up to ascertain if he could throw light upon the subject under discussion.

“What do you know about the Háwash?” he exclaimed, in a violent passion, as the name of the lone river fell upon his ear—“Pray where did you learn about the Háwash, or the Ittoo, or the Aroosi?”—and suiting the action to the word, his cudgel rattled heavily over the crown of the unoffending pilgrim to the shrine of the Prophet. Nettled at this unprovoked assault, the venerable man retorted with interest—blows pattered thick and fast, a crowd collected, creeses were drawn, and the friends of the respective parties felt themselves bound to interfere. The belligerent Hajji was held to prevent his committing murder; and the Adel geographer, as he walked reluctantly away, under a shower of stones, turning frequently to breathe defiance to the object of his ire, repeated with a sneer, “Here is the Háwash indeed: what the devil does that old donkey know about the Háwash?”

Meanwhile arrived a special messenger, bearing reiterated compliments from the Negoos, with a horse and a mule from the royal stud, attired in the peculiar trappings and colours which in Shoa pertain solely to Majesty. The bridles and breastplates glittered with studs and bosses of polished metal; gay embroidery in coloured worsted covered the saddle-cloth of the mule, and a collection of silver chains, jingles, and bells, encircled her neck. At sight hereof women and girls enveloped in blood-red shifts, who had thronged to the busy scene to stare at the white strangers, at once burst into a loud scream of acclamation. A group of hooded widows, occupying an adjacent public asylum, thrust their fingers into their ears, and joined in the clamour. Escort and camel-drivers, now at their journey’s end, had placed no bounds to their hilarity. A fat ox that had been promised was turned loose among the spectators—pursued by fifty savages with gleaming creeses—and ham-strung by a dexterous blow, which threw it bellowing to the earth in the height of its mad career. The rival clans of lean curs, that are respectively quartered on the dung-heaps of the twin hills, and suffer no intrusion into each other’s domains, rushed to the neutral ground, and forthwith commenced an indiscriminate engagement over the garbage; and whilst Débtera Tekla Zion, still counting and recounting, amended his long list with untiring perseverance, crowds of porters and lounging visitors added the mite of their united voices to the din, tumult, and intolerable uproar which continued until close of day.

Predatory incursions of the Galla upon the Argóbba frontier are frequent, and not many weeks had passed away since six of the king’s liege subjects were murdered within the precincts of the encamping ground. In defiance of tempestuous weather, two European soldiers and an officer had been on guard without shelter during every night of the long and tedious march, and the sergeant of the escort had every hour personally relieved the sentries: but the exposed position of the baggage, added to the evil character borne by the spot, and the experience already gained at Dinómali, still precluded the discontinuance of watch and ward, whereof all were heartily weary.

In the dead of night an alarm caused all to spring from their couches on the hard ground, and to stand prepared for the reception of an unseen foe, whose approach was announced by the blast of some hideous war-horn. Halters had been broken, and mules and horses were charging over the tent ropes, nor was the real cause of the confusion discovered for some minutes. A thirsty dog, unacquainted with the artifice resorted to by the fox that needed water, had recklessly thrust his mangy head so deep into an earthen jar that he was unable to withdraw it, and rushing he knew not whither, was giving vent through his strange proboscis to fearful hollow groans, which might well have instilled terror into the breast of the superstitious, and did not fail to elicit ceaseless howls from the canine occupants of the dunghill.

The delinquent was shot, and order being at length restored, those who were entitled to slumber again proceeded to avail themselves of the privilege. After pacing his beat some hours beyond the wonted period of relief, the sentinel who mounted at midnight hailed the officer on duty. Receiving no reply to the challenge, he approached the door of the tent, and there, sad to relate, the first breach of discipline was detected on the part of the guardian of the camp, who, worn out by incessant vigils, was on this, his last watch, lying fast asleep upon his post, with a pistol in each hand!

Volume One—Chapter Thirty Eight.

A Parting Tribute of Gratitude Inscribed to the People of Adel.

Tradition asserts that prior to the invasion of Graan, “the mighty Adel monarch,” who overran and dismembered once-powerful Ethiopia, the eastern limit of the empire was Jebel Aiúlloo, known to the Abyssinians as Mount Azulo. But although frequently invaded, no portion of the wide plain of the Háwash has been reconquered, whether by Sáhela Selássie, or by his ancestors. The relatives of certain of those in authority have been made prisoners by treachery, and as hostages are held in close durance by the king, but the boasted influence of the Abogáz is principally supported by conciliation, and by the annual presentation of cloths and specie to the various chiefs and elders—a measure having for its object to preserve the avenues to the sea-coast and to the Bahr Assál, whereon Shoa and Efát are almost entirely dependant for foreign wares, and for salt, which the country does not produce.

The powerful independent chieftain of the principal section of Gibdósa, who occupy the detached hill of Rása, across the Róbi river, northward of Dinómali, is one of those in nominal alliance with the Negoos; but his wild Moslems make constant predatory inroads upon the frontier of Argóbba, slaying Christians and Mohammadans of either sex, without any compunction; and the policy of His Majesty prohibiting retaliation, however aggravated the outrage, Anbássa Ali, or “the Lion,” who like Esau of old is said to be covered with hair from the crown of the head even unto the sole of the foot, not unfrequently makes hostile demonstrations in person, which require all the Wulásma’s tact and diplomatic cunning to avert.

From Háo, on the eastern side of the Háwash, to Fárri, the intervening tract, under the nominal jurisdiction of Mohammad Abogáz, is in occupation of a mixed nomade population, not remarkable for their honesty, and composed from numerous subdivisions of the Danákil, but principally from the Burhánto or Adáli, under ibn Hámed deen Hássan. This latter, which takes Adaïel in the plural, is the clan of the reigning Sultán of Tajúra; and being in days of yore the most powerful and important tribe in the nation, its name has been imparted to the entire country, now corrupted into Adel.

In time of war with the adjacent Galla on the south, or when called upon to repel the predatory invasions of the Mudaïto, the tribes westward of the Háwash assemble with the Tukhaïel, the Débeni, the Derméla, the Rookhba, the Wóema, and the Hy Somauli, the extent of whose respective territories has already been defined. These, with the Abli or Dinsérra, under Mohammad Ali, surnamed Jeróa, or “the Thief,” which is the tribe of Hámed Bunaïto, present wuzir and heir-apparent to the throne of Tajúra—the Adaneïto and Nakur, under Shehém Mulakoo—the Dondamétta, the Duttagóora, and the Hássóba, led respectively by Ahmed Kámil, Sheïkh Déeni, and Déeni ibn Ibrahim—collectively assume the title of Débenik-Wóema, k being the Dankáli conjunction.

Adalo bin Hámed, who leads a section of the Gibdósa encamped at Haódé and Dunné, occasionally unites with the Débenik-Wóema in the time of their need, but he is held virtually independent. The fourth and last section of the Débeni, under the authority of Mahmóodi, has its tents at the isolated volcanic mountain of Fantáli, southward of Dinómali, where reside also the united Adaïel clans Uluaïto, Muffa, and Eyrolásso, under the great “brave” Lamúllifan.

These tribes occupy the whole extent of country between Abyssinia and Mirsa Raheïta, near the entrance to the Red Sea, the head-quarters of Roofa Boorhán, sheïkh of a subdivision of the Duttagóora. Thence they stretch along the coast to the south-eastward, and from Góobut el Kharáb, between the parallels, bounded on the south by the Eesah and other Somauli tribes, and flanked on the north by the Mudaïto.

The Adaïel or Danákil population, which, including the Mudaïto, extends as far as Arkeeko, entitles itself Afer, and claims to be descended from Arab invaders, who, in the seventh century of the Christian era, overran and colonised the low tract which forms a zone between the Abyssinian Alps and the coast of the Red Sea. To a certain extent the northern tribes are subject to the Nayib of Arkeeko, whose authority is recognised in much the same proportion as that of the feeble Sultán of Tajúra by the southern clans; but although speaking the same language, they can hardly be said to constitute a nation, being so widely dispersed, that for many days together not a trace of man is to be discovered over the joyless deserts which form the lot of his inheritance, scorched by an ardent sun, and alive only with “moving pillars of sand.”

From time immemorial every individual has been his own king. Each marauding community is marked by a wild independence; and the free spirit of the whole is to be traced in the rapine, discord, and bloodshed which universally prevails. Theirs is “an iron sky, and a soil of brass,” where the clouds drop little rain, and the earth yields no vegetation. It is no “land of rivers of water,” nor have the “lines fallen in pleasant places.” The desert stretches far on every side, strewed with black boulders of heated lava, and enveloped by a glowing atmosphere. In this country of perfidy and vindictive ferocity, the proprietors of the barren land murder every stranger who shall intrude; and the common benefits of water are an object of perpetual contest. Reprisal and revenge form the guiding maxim of all. Monsters, not men, their savage propensities are portrayed in a dark and baleful eye, and the avenger of blood is closely dogging the footsteps of one half the population.

As laziness is the chief source of African misery at large, so is it with the Danákil in particular. They possess that “conceit in their misery” which induces them to despise the labours of the cultivator; and such is the characteristic want of water, that, excepting at Aussa, agriculture is unknown, even in its rudest form. A pastoral, itinerant, and belligerent people, divided into endless clans and ramifications, under divers independent chieftains, their mode of living entitles them to rank only one step in civilisation above the positive savage who depends for daily subsistence upon the chase and upon the spontaneous productions of nature.

Born to the spear, and bred in eternal strife with his predatory neighbours, each lawless member of the straggling community inherits the untameable spirit of the descendants of Ishmaël; and it is made subservient to all the worst vices and passions inherent in the semi-barbarian. In his very attitude and bearing there is that which proclaims him in his own opinion Lord of the Universe, entitled to enjoy, with a thankless heart, all that he is capable of enjoying. No favour claims his gratitude—nothing demands a thought beyond the present moment. Unlike the Arab Bedouin, he is too indolent and improvident during seasons of plenty, to convert the produce of his flocks and herds into a store against the coming day of drought and famine. Gorged to repletion, the residue is suffered to go to waste; and so long as his belly is full, his licentiousness gratified, and he has leisure to lounge about in listless idleness, the measure of his happiness is complete, and the sun may rise and set without his troubling his head as to the mode in which the day has been passed, or how the next meal is to be provided.

Many of the Adaïel are extensive owners of camels, and deal largely in slaves—a trade which yields three hundred per cent, with the least possible risk or trouble to the merchant; but when not upon the journey periodically undertaken to acquire the materials for this traffic, all lead a life of indolence and gross sensuality—eating, sleeping, and indulging in the baser passions, according to the bent of their vicious inclinations. Their delight is to be dirty and to be idle. They wear the same cloth without ablution until it fairly drops from the back; and abhorring honest labour, whether agricultural or handicraft, pass the day in drowsiness, or in the enjoyment of a quiet seat before the hamlet, where the scandal of the community is retailed. Basking in the sun, and arranging their curly locks with the point of the skewer, they here indulge in unlimited quantities of snuff, and mumble large rolls of tobacco and ashes, which are so thrust betwixt the under lip and the white teeth, as to impart the unseemly appearance of a growing wen, and if temporarily removed are invariably deposited behind the left ear. No race of men in the world stink more offensively; but whilst polluting the atmosphere with rancid tallow and putrid animal intestines, they never condescend to approach a Christian without holding their own noses!

Amongst the Danákil are to be found some of the most scowling, ill-favoured, and hideous-looking savages in the universe, but the features of the majority have an Arab cast which supports the legend of their origin; and notwithstanding the influence exerted upon the lineaments by passions uncontrolled, the expression of many is pleasing, and even occasionally intellectual. All are muscular and active, but singularly scraggy and loosely knit, and to an easy shuffling gait is added a national addiction to standing cross-legged. Young as well as old take infinite pains to disfigure the person, and thus to render it ferocious in appearance. Scars obtained in brawls and conflicts from stones and cold steel are esteemed the highest ornaments, and the breast and stomach are usually seamed with a mystic maze of rhombs and reticulated triangles, produced by scarification with a sharp fragment of obsidian, so as to resemble the plan of a fortified town of days gone by.

The upper lip is denuded with the creese, and the scanty beard suffered to flourish in curls along the cheeks and over the chin; whilst the hair, coarse and long, saturated with grease and mutton fat from infancy, and exposed during life to the fiercest sun, becomes crisped into a thick curly mop, like a counsellor’s wig, which is shaved behind on a line between the ears, and constitutes the first great pride of the proprietor. The picking it out into a due spherical form affords employment during his ample leisure, and the contemplation of its wild perfection is the predominant object when the mirror is placed within his grasp. Baldness commences at an early age, and many of the ancient dandies seek protection from the solar influence under sheep-skin perukes of preposterous size, their artificial curls, in common with those that are natural, displaying an ornamented wooden spike or bodkin, which serves as a comb, and is often fancifully carved and provided with two or even three prongs.

The operation of greasing this wig without the aid of the barber is original. A lump of raw fat, cut from the overgrown tail of the Berbera sheep, having been some time masticated and mumbled, is expelled into the hands, betwixt the palms of which it is reduced by rubbing to a suitable consistency, and then transferred en masse to the crown. Exposure to the fierce rays of a tropical sun soon conveys the desired nourishment to the roots of the hair. A number of jets and brilliants, which first adorn the periwig, are presently fried into oily shreds, and the liquid tallow, adulterated with dirt, trickling in streams adown the swarthy visage and over the neck, exhales the most sickening of odours. All, however, cannot afford this luxury of the toilet, nor is it every one who can resist the temptation of swallowing the dainty morsel when once consigned to the mouth; and hence is seen many a poll of sun-burnt hair, in colour and consistency resembling the housemaid’s cobweb broom which is quaintly denominated “the Pope’s head.”

The simple costume of the Bedouin consists of a piece of checked cloth wrapped loosely about the loins, and descending to the knees so as to resemble a kilt or short petticoat; whilst a cotton robe is thrown over the shoulder after the manner of the Roman toga. Miserly in disposition, few outward ornaments grace his person, save an occasional necklace of fat, and a few armlets and bracelets composed of potent passages from the Korán either stitched in leather, or enveloped in coloured thread. A thong adorned with a metal button girds to the right hip of old and young a creese two feet in length, the wooden hilt of which is decorated with a pewter stud, whilst the scabbard is ornamented with an aromatic sprig, employed as a tooth-brush, and masticated for hours together.

Three inches broad in the blade, and possessing a truly murderous crook in the centre, the creese is doubtless a most formidable weapon at close quarters. With it the Danákil builds his house; with it he slays the animal, and flays the carcase. It is his sword in battle, his knife at the table, his razor at the toilet, his hatchet, and his nail-parer. A savage desirous of illustrating the most approved exercise, after whetting the blade upon a stone, capers about describing a series of flourishes and cuts, both under and over the shield, stabbing and parrying to the right and to the left, until at length comes the last grand touch of disembowelment, when a ripping motion is accompanied by a bound into the air, and a howl of perfect satisfaction such as might be conjectured to issue from the jaws of the glutted vampire.

The spear, which is seldom out of the hand of the Danákil, is some seven feet in length, a shaft of tough close-grained wood called “adepto” being heavily poised with metal at the butt, and topped by a blade from ten to fifteen inches long, by three broad, reduced to as keen an edge as constant scouring with sand and grease can impart. Great aversion is entertained to this weapon being stepped over, and its fall to the ground, independently of the damage that might be sustained, is regarded as an evil omen, and believed to destroy its power over the flesh and blood of an enemy. The spear of a chief only is mounted with bands of brass and copper wire, but the points of all are graced alike with a lump of sheep’s-tail fat. Although sometimes employed as a missive, the pike exercise is more usually resorted to—the warrior stealing onward in a crouching position, and springing suddenly with a yell and a cat-like bound to transfix the body of his foe. “None but a woman would retain the spear in the hour of battle,” quoth one of the braves—“the creese is the hand to hand weapon!”

The shield, fashioned out of the stiff hide of the Báeza, or of the wild buffalo, is a perfect circle, of from one to two feet in diameter, with the rim turned outwards, and the centre convexed, for the purpose of checking the flight or launch of the missive. A button or boss which forms the apex is usually adorned with some proud trophy of the chase, in addition to the red beard of a he-goat, undeviatingly attached as a charm. A small bag, slung in the interior of the buckler, contains the portable wealth of the proprietor, and a forked stick is annexed to the hand strap, to admit of suspension to a tree. Engaged, the warrior keeps the shield in a continual revolving motion, in strict accordance with the movement of the eyes, which in fierce and violent frenzy are rolled in the sockets during the continuance of the conflict.

Cruel, bloodthirsty, and vindictive, the Danákil do not possess that spirit of individual enterprise or chivalry, or that reckless disregard of personal danger which, to certain races of men, imparts the stamp of military habits; but a season of scarcity dooms every neighbouring tribe whose pastures are more favoured than their own, to invasion, massacre, and pillage. A fiendish whoop is the signal for the gathering of the clan; and, obedient to the call, each man at arms, grasping spear and shield, abandons his wretched wigwam with truly savage alacrity. His fierce and untamed passions now riot uncontrolled, and those who during the foray are guilty of the greatest enormities, strut about on return amongst their fellows, bedecked with ostrich plumes, and other badges of distinction, reciting each to some wild tune, the tale of his bloody exploits.

Morose, and possessing little perception of the ridiculous, witticisms and hilarity in conversation are restricted to the ribald jest; but brawls are frequent, and the bivouac is often cheered by the wild chorus selected from a choice collection breathing in every line self-sufficiency and defiance to the foe. Accompanied by savage gestures and contortions—now menacing, now mincing, and now furious—these strains are chanted during the livelong night with clear and energetic throats, chiefly with the design of intimidating, by the noisy clamour, any hostile party that may be lurking in the vicinity of the encampment, intent either upon the requital of injuries done, or the acquisition of fame by aggressions unprovoked.

Superstitious to the last degree, the itinerant Bedouin takes the field arrayed in a panoply of amulets, designed as a defence against witchcraft, and to be thrown towards the enemy in the hour of battle. A verse from the Korán, sewn up in leather, and hung about the neck, secures him against all incorporeal enemies. No whirlwind ever sweeps across the path without being pursued by a dozen savages with drawn creeses, who stab into the centre of the dusty column in order to drive away the evil spirit that is believed to be riding on the blast. All have firm faith in the incarnation of the Devil, who is described as a monster with perpendicular eyes, capable of rolling along the ground with the rotatory motion of a ball; and Ibrahim Shehém Abli, a most unblushing liar, and no less notable a necromancer than warrior, confidently asserted his individual ability to raise seven hundred of these demons for evil, during any moonlight night of the entire year.

The mosque and the muezzin have no existence in the interior, where religion gradually shades away; and, unlike the people of Tajúra, there is here little external display of Islamism observable, save in the bigoted detestation evinced towards those of every other than the Mohammadan creed. But although prostrations are wanting, and rosaries are untold, the vagrants still preserve their knavish reputations unblemished. The white feather, which in Europe is the emblem of cowardice, is appropriately placed in the head of these midnight assassins, and the neighbouring tribes have not ill-portrayed the national character in the assertion, that “the tongues of the Adaïel are long for the express purpose of lying, that their arms are long but to admit of their pilfering the property of others, and that their legs are long in order that they may run away like poltroons in the day of danger and retribution.”

Volume One—Chapter Thirty Nine.

The Gentle Adaïel, and Farewell to them.

“Yet one kind kiss before we part, Drop a tear, and bid adieu.”

To be the wife of a true believer, in whatever state of society, from the most refined to the most barbarous, is to be cursed in the fullest acceptation of the word. But of the two extremes, many, if the choice were given, would doubtless prefer the drudgery that falls to the lot of the partner of the untaught savage, with all the manifold discomforts attending precarious subsistence, to the immolation and seclusion, which in civilised Mohammadan countries, is imposed upon the fairest of God’s works. Taking no part with her lord in the concerns of this world—taught to expect no participation in the happiness of that which is to come—she is a prisoner kept to minister to the lusts of the flesh; and the higher the state of cultivation—the more exalted the rank of the captive—so much the more rigorous is the restraint imposed.

In the European acceptation of the term, small traces are here to be found of the sentiment of love; and jealousy, when it does exist, would seldom appear to arise from any regard for the object that has created the feeling. The Dankáli female has contrived to retain her natural right of liberty; and so long as the wife performs the labour required at her hands, she is at full liberty to flirt unreproved, to the full extent of her coquettish inclinations. Upon Baileela devolves the task of leading the foremost camel, or carrying the heavy burthen slung by a sharp rope which passes across her breast. She fetches water and wood, prepares the milk, and boils the meat. She it is who weaves mats of the date-leaf for the use of her listless and indolent lord; tends his flocks of sheep and goats, dismantles and erects his wigwam when migrations are undertaken to distant pools and pastures; and, seated at his feet, chases away the flies which disturb his repose beneath the shade of the palm. Here, however, the needle is monopolised by the male, and he is sometimes to be seen industriously stitching a new leathern petticoat for his hard-worked partner, who, conscious of the fleeting nature of her charms, makes the utmost of her short lease; and in the nature of her occupation finds ample opportunities for indulgence.

The features of the Bedouin damsel, although degenerate, resemble those of the Arabian mother, from whom she claims descent; and so close a similarity pervades the community at large, that one mould would appear to have been employed for every individual composing it. Nature being suffered to model her daughters according to her will, their figures during a brief period are graceful; but feminine symmetry is soon destroyed by the constant pressure of heavy loads against the chest, and under the fiery heat of her native sands, the nymph is presently transformed into the decrepit hag, with bent back and waddling gait. A short apron of bullock’s hide, with frilled edges, is tied above the hips with a broad band, the sport of every wanton whirlwind; but from the waist upwards the person is unveiled. A coif of blue calico covers the head of those who have entered the conjugal state, whilst that of the virgin is unattired; but the hair of all is arranged in an infinity of elaborate plaits falling to the shoulders, and liberally greased. So are also sundry narrow bands of raw hide, which are usually tied above the ankles by way of charms to strengthen the legs, and which, contracting as they dry, sink deep below the surface of the part compressed.

A petalled sprig, appearing to grow out of the waistband, ascends on either side of the spine, in tattooed relief, resembling tambour work, and diverging across the ribs, finishes in fancy circles around the bosom according to the taste of the designer. This is a constant quantity, and the charms of many a belle are further heightened by scarification—an angle to break the evenness of the smooth forehead, or the arc of a circle to improve the dimple on the cheek, being favourite devices. From the ears of all who can afford personal ornament, depend two conical drops wrought of thick brass wire spirally coiled, resting on a curved iron base, and separated by two broad horizontal bands of pewter. When the wearer is in activity, the flapping of these cumbrous metallic appendages is ridiculous enough, and the rattle may be heard to a considerable distance as they come into violent collision with a necklace composed of a medley of beads, bones, cowrie shells, jingles, and amulets, strung in many rows upon a leathern collar embedded in dirt and grease, and terminating in a large rhomb of pewter. Bracelets and anklets of the same metal are usual, and the ornament of a squalling brat with inflamed weasel-like eyes slung over the back, is rarely wanting to complete the figure—a jerk to the right or to the left bringing it readily across the shoulder when occasion demands.

The Bedouin wigwam—a rectangle of eight feet in length by six broad, and five high—is constructed of a succession of branches in couples, curved before the fire, and lashed in the form of a lip-arch. A mat composed of date leaves forms the roof; and the whole fabric, wherein the hand of no master builder is visible, is thus readily transferred from place to place. “Omnia mea mecum fero” should form the motto of the wandering Dankáli, whose only furniture consists of a tressel hollowed at the top to serve as a pillow—a luxury restricted to the male sex. In the huts of the more wealthy, wooden platters and ladles sometimes form part of the household gear, together with closely-woven mat baskets to contain milk; but this beverage is more usually consigned to a bag of sheep or goat skin—sun-dried flesh, grease, grain, and water, being lodged also in similar receptacles.

Milk forms the principal diet of this Arcadian race; and they deride the dwellers in cities for eating birds or fowls, declaring that the flesh must have travelled upon four legs during life to be at all palatable. An ancient camel, a buck goat, or a bull calf, is occasionally slaughtered with a Bismillah, and the flesh not immediately consumed cut into long thin collops, and dried in the sun to be stuffed again into the skin for future use. Meat is broiled among the embers upon closely-packed pebbles, which prevents it coming into contact with the ashes; and the master of the house, taking his seat upon the ground beside a lump of raw liver, places a wedge-shaped stone under either heel, in order to impart a slight inclination to the body, and thus preserve the balance without personal exertion. Picking the bones one by one out of the fire, he seizes alternate mouthfuls of the grilled and the raw flesh between the teeth, and with an upward motion of the creese, divides them close to his nose.

It may be received as an axiom that no Bedouin will speak the truth, although the doing so might prove to his obvious advantage. He is not only a liar by the force of rooted habit and example, but also upon principle, and his oaths are simple matters of form. The name of God is invoked, and the Korán taken to witness, in falsehoods the most palpable; and to have sworn with the last solemnity is far from being regarded in the light of a binding obligation. A stone having been cast upon the earth, fire is quenched in water, and the adjuration repeated: “May this body become petrified, and may Allah thus extinguish me if I utter that which is not true!”

In conversation a portion of every sentence is invariably taken up by the person addressed—the last word being generally considered sufficient, or even an abbreviation to the final syllable. The salutation of the tribes, between whom little bond exists, beyond identity of language, is a cold forbidding touch of the fingers, fully indicative of the unfriendly sentiments of the heart. All prey upon each other, and every individual in whatever rank is by nature, as well as by habit and inclination, an assassin. None will hesitate to mutilate or barbarously put to death any member of another clan whom he may find at advantage, either sleeping or at a distance from succour—the appetite for plunder, and the thirst for blood, inherent in the breast, being quite sufficient to dictate every act of atrocity, and to impel every dastardly outrage, that a savage can devise or commit.

Dwelling in a scene of aridity, hostility, and bloodshed, traversed by barren chains bearing the impress of volcanic desolation, and cursed with a soil rarely susceptible of cultivation, but still more rarely cultivated, the hand of the roving Bedouin is against every man, and every man’s hand is against him. The truth of the Scriptural prophecy respecting the untameable descendants of Ishmaël, here as elsewhere is well maintained; nor were the words of the poet ever more truly exemplified than in the hot weary wastes of the Adaïel—

“Nothing save rapine, indolence, and guile, And woes on woes, a still revolving train. Whose horrid circle has made human life Than non-existence worse.”

Arrogant, treacherous, and degraded barbarians, bound in the fetters of idleness and superstition—dissemblers, whose every word is a lie, and whose overbearing and unaccommodating disposition, grafted upon bigoted intolerance, was displayed on every occasion to the personal discomfort of those by whom they were paid and entertained—there was never throughout the long, tedious, and trying journey, either on the part of elders, escort, or camel-drivers, the slightest wish or effort, either to honour or oblige; and it was only on occasions when fire-arms, which they could not gainsay, might prove of service to themselves, that the blubber lip did not swell in scorn at the Christian Kafirs, who were sneered at even in conversation. And these, too, were savages who scarcely knew the use of bread, who rarely employed water for the ablution of their filthy persons, and who kept their heads and bodies floating in a perpetual sea of sheep’s-tail fat. On taking leave of the tormenting fraternity at this the happy termination of a weary and perilous pilgrimage, which had been performed without once taking off the clothes, it may safely be averred that no member of the British Embassy had ever passed so long a period with so large a party, without desiring to make further acquaintance with at least one individual: but the last touch of the cold palm was for once received with heartfelt satisfaction, and each bade adieu to the whole community with an inward hope that it might never fall to his evil lot to see their scowling faces more.

Volume One—Chapter Forty.

Ascent of the Abyssinian Alps.

Having thus happily shaken the Adel dust from off the feet, and taken affectionate leave of the greasy Danákil, it is not a little pleasant to bid adieu also to their scorching plains of unblessed sterility. Every change in the soil and climate of Africa is in extremes, and barrenness and unbounded fertility border on each other with a suddenness whereof the denizens of temperate climes can form no conception. As if by the touch of the magician’s wand, the scene now passes in an instant from parched and arid wastes to the green and lovely highlands of Abyssinia, presenting one sheet of rich and thriving cultivation. Each fertile knoll is crowned with its peaceful hamlet—each rural vale traversed by its crystal brook, and teeming with herds and flocks. The cool mountain zephyr is redolent of eglantine and jasmine, and the soft green turf, spangled with clover, daisies, and buttercups, yields at every step the aromatic fragrance of the mint and thyme.

The baggage having at length been consigned to the shoulders of six hundred grumbling Moslem porters, assembled by the royal fiat from the adjacent villages, and who, now on the road, formed a line which extended upwards of a mile, the Embassy, on the morning of the 17th, commenced the ascent of the Abyssinian Alps. Hitherto every officious attendant functionary had exerted himself to the utmost to promote delay, confusion, and annoyance; and each now exhorted the respective members of the party to urge their jaded beasts to increased speed, and hasten onwards over a rugged path which, in the toil-worn condition of the majority, was not to be ascended without considerable difficulty. The king was waxing impatient to behold the delighting things that had been imported, an account of which, so far as the prying eyes of his servants had been able to discern, had been duly transmitted to the palace; and in order to celebrate the arrival of so great an accession of wealth. His Majesty’s flutes once more poured out their melody, and his warriors again chanted their wild notes among the hills, until far out of hearing of the astonished population of Fárri.

It was a cool and lovely morning, and a fresh invigorating breeze played over the mountain side, on which, though less than ten degrees removed from the equator, flourished the vegetation of northern climes. The rough and stony road wound on by a steep ascent over hill and dale—now skirting the extreme verge of a precipitous cliff—now dipping into the basin of some verdant hollow, whence, after traversing the pebbly course of a murmuring brook, it suddenly emerged into a succession of shady lanes, bounded by flowering hedge-rows.

The wild rose, the fern, the lantana, and the honeysuckle, smiled around a succession of highly cultivated terraces, into which the entire range was broken by banks supporting the soil; and on every eminence stood a cluster of conically-thatched houses, environed by green hedges, and partially embowered amid dark trees. As the troop passed on, the peasant abandoned his occupation in the field to gaze at the novel procession; whilst merry groups of hooded women, decked in scarlet and crimson, summoned by the renewal of martial strains, left their avocations in the hut to welcome the king’s guests with a shrill ziroleet, which rang from every hamlet. The leather petticoat of the wandering shepherdess was no longer to be seen. Birds warbled among the leafy groves, and throughout the rich landscape reigned an air of peace and plenty that could not fail to prove highly delightful after the recent weary pilgrimage across the hot desert.

At various turns of the road the prospect was rugged, wild, and beautiful. Aigibbi, the first Christian village of Efát, was soon revealed on the summit of a height, where, within an enclosure of thorns, rest the remains of a traveller, who not long before had closed his eyes on the threshold of the kingdom, a victim to the pestilential sky of the lowlands. Three principal ranges were next crossed in succession, severally intersected by rivulets which are all tributary to the Háwash, although the waters are for the most part absorbed before they reach that stream. Lastly, the view opened upon the wooded site of Ankóber, occupying a central position in a horse-shoe crescent of mountains, still high above, which enclose a magnificent amphitheatre of ten miles in diameter. This is clothed throughout with a splendidly varied and vigorous vegetation, and choked by minor abutments, converging towards its gorge on the confines of the Adel plains.

Here the journey was for the present to terminate, and, thanks to Abyssinian jealousy and suspicion, many days were yet to elapse ere the remaining height should be climbed to the capital of Shoa, now distant two hours’ walk. Three thousand feet above the level of Fárri stands the market-town of Alio Amba, upon the crest of a scarped prong formed by the confluence of two mountain streams. A Mohammadan population, not exceeding one thousand souls, the inmates of two hundred and fifty straggling houses, is chiefly composed of Adaïel, Argóbba, and merchants from Aussa and Hurrur; and among this motley community it had been ordained that the Embassy should halt that night.

Ascending by a steep stony path to an open spot, on which the weekly market is held, the escort fired a desultory salute; and whilst crowds of both sexes flocked to behold the white strangers, forming a double line, they indulged in the performance of the war-dance. Relieved occasionally by some of the younger braves who had earned distinctions during the last campaign, a veteran capered before the ranks with a drawn sword grasped between his teeth; and for the edification of the bystanders the notes of a martial song were powerfully poured forth in chorus from three hundred Christian throats.

The cone occupied by Alio Amba is only one of the thousand precipitous eminences into which the entire mountain side is broken on its junction with the plain. Swollen and foaming, the intersecting torrents appeared from the pinnacle like small threads of silver, twining and gliding far below amid green bushes and verdant fields to the great outlet, whence they escape to be soon lost on the desert sand. Together with a boundless prospect over the inhospitable tract beneath, countless villages now met the eye upon the entire intervening mountain side, and wherever the slope admitted of the plough being held, there cultivation flourished. Wheat, barley, Indian com, beans, peas, cotton, and oil plant, throve luxuriantly around every hamlet—the regularly marked fields mounting in terraces to the height of three or four thousand feet, and becoming in their boundaries gradually more and more indistinct, until totally lost on the shadowy green side of Mamrat, “The Mother of Grace.”

This towering peak, still shrouded in clouds when all was sunshine below, is clothed with a dense forest of timber, and at an elevation of some thirteen thousand feet above the sea, affords secure shelter to the treasures of the monarch, which have been amassing since the re-establishment of the kingdom, one hundred and fifty years since. Loza forms the apex of the opposite side of the crescent, and perched on its wooded summit is a monastery forming the temporary abode of Halloo Mulakoot, heir-apparent to the throne of Shoa. But by far the most interesting feature in the stern landscape is a conical hill, conspicuous from its isolated position, and rising amid dark groves of pine-like juniper, from a lofty serrated ridge. Hereon stands the stronghold of Góncho, the residence of Wulásma Mohammad, constructed over the state dungeon keep, in which, loaded with galling fetters, the three younger brothers of a Christian king—victims to a barbarous statute—have found a living tomb since the present accession, a period of thirty years!

After much needless detention in the market-place, exposed to the impertinent comments and rude gaze of the thronging populace, Ayto Kálama Work, a tall raw-boned man with a loose scrambling gait and a dead yellow eye, introduced himself as governor of the town. He condescended in person to conduct the British guests of his royal master to a mansion which had once boasted of himself as a tenant, but was now in the occupation of a fat old Moslem dame and her three daughters, whose respective appellatives being duly translated, proved worthy the days of Prince Cherry and Fairstar. Eve, Sweet-limes, and Sunbeam, all clothed alike in scarlet habiliments, vacated the premises with the utmost alacrity, and many good-humoured smiles; but owing to the length and difficulty of the road, that portion of the baggage most in request did not arrive until midnight—when, through the officious interference of Ayto Wolda Hana, whose garrulity had increased rather than abated, a new inventory of effects in charge of each principal of a village was to be penned by the royal scribe, and thus neither bedding nor food could be obtained.

The edifice so ostentatiously allotted for the accommodation of the party by him of the unpromising exterior, was of an elliptical form, about thirty feet in length by eighteen in breadth, and surrounded on every side by those tall rank weeds that delight to luxuriate in filth. Two undressed stakes supported a tottering grass thatch. Windows there were none. A long narrow aperture did duty for a door, and the walls, which met the roof at a distance of ten feet from the ground, were of the very worst description of wattle and dab—the former an assemblage of rotten reeds, and the latter decayed by time in a sufficiency of places to admit the light indispensable to a full development of the dirt and misery within.

In the principal of two apartments, a circular excavation in the floor surrounded by a parapet of clay, served as a stove. Heavy slabs of stone embedded in high mud pedestals, and used for grinding grain, engrossed one corner, and in another were piled heaps of old bullock hides in various stages of decomposition. Very buggy-looking bedsteads, equipped with a web of narrow thongs in lieu of cotton tape, assumed that air of discomfort which a broken or ill-adapted leg is so prone to impart. The narrow necks of divers earthen urn-shaped vessels containing mead, beer, and water, were stuffed with bunches of green leaves. Larger mud receptacles were filled with wheat, barley, and beans; and huge lumps of raw beef, with sundry bullocks’ heads, which were promiscuously strewed about, garnished the floor, the beds, and the walls, in every direction.

The inner chamber boasted the presence of mules and female slaves, who, if judgment might be formed from the evil odours exhaled, were revelling in the garbage of the shambles. Constructed on the slope of a hill, the floor of the edifice throughout was of the natural earth, and dipping at least one foot below the level of the threshold, had never known the presence of the housemaid’s besom. Equalling the filthiest Irish hovel in dirt and discomfort, the cheerless abode could boast of no sleek little pig, and of no pond covered with fat ducks, both being alike held in abhorrence by the Jew-Christians of Shoa; and even the old hat was wanting wherewith to cram the gaps through which whistled the keen cutting blast of Alpine climes.

Fatigue soon closed the weary eyes; but the change in the atmosphere, consequent upon the great elevation attained, presently interfered with repose upon the damp bare floor. Rain then set in with extreme violence. The water came tumbling through the manifold apertures in the crazy walls and shattered roof, and having speedily flooded the sloping court, poured over the threshold to deluge the floor with standing pools. Although the smoke of sodden wood, unable to escape, proved an inconvenience scarcely to be borne, there was no dispensing with a fire; and troops of fleas and sanguinary bugs, coursing over the body, by their painful and poisonous attacks, might almost have caused a sigh for the execrated plains of the Adaïel, which, with all their discomforts of watch and ward, were at least free from the curse of vermin.

But the lingering day dawned at last, and with the tedious hours of a cold and sleepless night the rain had also disappeared. As the rising sun shone against the lofty and now cloudless peaks, preparations were made for continuing the journey to Ankóber, in accordance with the royal invitation; but Ayto Wolda Hana, whose presence ever betokened evil, after wading through the compliments of the morning, proceeded with unbending gravity to unfold the dismal tidings that the monarch had altered his resolves. His Majesty would tarry yet some days longer at Debra Berhán, and in consequence graciously extended the option of visiting the court there or resting at Alio Amba, pending his indefinite arrival at the capital.

The difficulty, not to say the impossibility, of transporting the mass of baggage to so great a distance, in such weather, and with very inadequate means at command, rendered imperative the adoption of the latter alternative. Aytos Wolda Hana and Kátama, with the whole of the escort, meanwhile took their departure, to report orally the important discoveries they had been able to make relative to the nature of the presents designed for the throne, together with the particulars of the quarrel betwixt Izhák and Mohammad Ali, and the respective pretension of the rivals to the honour of having conducted the British visitors into Abyssinia.

One of those mysterious boxes, the lading of which, unviolated by the scrutinising scribes, remained hermetically sealed to the inquisitive gaze of officious spies, had, before leaving Fárri, been broken open with the design of obtaining access to an indispensable portion of the contents. To this unfortunate necessity may possibly be ascribed the sudden and unlooked-for alteration in the royal intentions. In lieu of ingots of gold were revealed to the astounded sight the leathern buckets, linch-stocks, and tough ash staves pertaining to the galloper-guns. Words of derision burst from the mouth of every disappointed spectator. “These,” exclaimed fifty vain-glorious lips at once, “be but a poor people. What is their nation when compared with the Amhára; for behold in this trash, specimens of the offerings brought from their boasted land to the footstool of the mightiest of monarchs!”

Volume One—Chapter Forty One.

Probation at Alio Amba.

Slowly passed the days of fog, and the nights of dire discomfort, during the tedious detention which followed this unfortunate discovery. From the terrace commanding a boundless view over the desolate regions traversed, the overflowing channel of the Háwash, and the lakes Le Ado and Ailabello could each morning be perceived sparkling with increased lustre, as their fast-filling basins glittered like sheets of burnished silver under the rays of the rising sun. The industrious fleas continued their nocturnal persecutions, as if never to be sated with European blood; and a constant succession of clouds, which ascended the valley, drawing a grey cold curtain before the hoary head of Mamrat, proclaimed, amid prolonged peals of thunder, the commencement of the rainy season.

But each succeeding night and day brought no nearer prospect of release, and the change in the imperial resolves were scarcely less frequent than those which came over the towering face of the stronghold of his subterranean treasure. Remonstrances, penned with infinite labour and difficulty, were responded by endearing messages, garbled at the pleasure of those to whom they were confided; but the subtle excuse for the further delay of the desired audience was never wanting, and conjecture became exhausted in devising the true cause of the mortifying indifference displayed to the rich presents from “beyond the great sea.”

A desire on the part, of the despot to preserve due respect in the eyes of his lieges, and perhaps also to imbue the minds of his foreign visitors with a befitting sense of his importance, were the most probable motives. Under the existing disappointment, it afforded some consolation to remember that embassies of old to Northern Abyssinia had experienced similar treatment, and to know that delegates to Shoa from the courts of Gondar and Tigré are never presented to the king until weeks after their arrival—a custom originating probably in the more kindly feeling of allowing rest to the way-worn traveller at the close of a long and perilous journey, but perpetuated for less worthy considerations.

At length there came a pressing invitation to visit the monarch at Debra Berhán, coupled with an assurance that the Master of the Horse should be in attendance to escort the party. But no Master of the Horse was forthcoming at the time appointed, and the following day brought a pathetic billet from the palace—a tiny parchment scroll, enveloped in a sheet of wax, breathing in its contents regret and disappointment. “Son of my house, my heart longed to behold you, and I believed that you would come. As you appeared not, I passed the day in distress, fearing lest the waters should have carried you away, or that the mule had fallen on the road. I commanded Melkoo to wait and receive you, and to conduct you to me; but when I hoped to see you arrive, you stayed out. The mule returned; and when I inquired whither you were gone, they told me that you were left. I have committed the fault, in that I gave not orders that they should go down, and bring you.”

Meanwhile, the most vigorous attempts were made, on the part both of the Wulásma and of Ayto Wolda Hana, to exercise exclusive control over the baggage lodged at Alio Amba. Locks were placed upon the latches, and guards appointed over the doors of the houses wherein it was deposited—fully as much care being taken to preclude access on the part of those by whom it had been brought, as if His Christian Majesty had already become the bonâ fide proprietor. Repeated orders on the subject, obtained from the palace, were uniformly disregarded by the over-zealous functionaries, and it was only by force of arms that the repositories were finally burst open, and that charge of the contents could be resumed.

Neither were the persecutions of the gaunt governor of the town among the least of the evils to be endured, resulting as they did in consequences the most inconvenient. Specially appointed to entertain and provide for the wants of the guests, he supplied at the royal expense provisions alike inferior in quality and deficient in quantity, taking care at the same time that the king’s munificence should be in no wise compromised by purchases, for these he clandestinely prevented. His conduct might be traced to the same jealous feelings that pervaded the breast of his colleagues in office. In the despotic kingdom of Shoa, the sovereign can alone purchase coloured cloth or choice goods; and Ayto Kálama Work, who is entitled to a certain percentage upon all imports, having formed a tolerably shrewd estimate of the contents of the bales and boxes, believed that these would effectually clog the market, and that his dues would be no longer forthcoming. Resolved to extend the most unequivocal proofs of his discontent, he was pleased to assign to the surviving horses and mules of the foreigners a tract destitute of pasturage—one mulberry coloured steed only being pampered, because from size, colour, and appearance, it was assumed that he must be intended for the king. The continued drenching rain at night during the later marches, with the intense heat and general absence of water and forage throughout the whole pilgrimage, had sadly reduced the original number. Many more had dropped on the ascent from Fárri, and of those whose strength had enabled them to climb the more favoured mountains of Abyssinia, the tails of one half were now presented as evidences of their fate.

Among the very few incidents that occurred to break the monotony of the probationary sojourn was the arrival of the “Lebáshi,” the hereditary thief-catcher of the kingdom. For several hours the little town was in a state of confusion and dismay. Burglary had been committed—divers pieces of salt had been abstracted, and the appearance of the police-officer was not one whit more agreeable to the innocent than to the guilty.

A ring having been formed in the market-place by the crowded spectators, the diviner introduced his accomplice, a stolid-looking lad, who seated himself upon a bullock’s hide with an air of deep resignation. An intoxicating drug was, under many incantations, extracted from a mysterious leathern scrip, and thrown into a horn filled with new milk; and this potation, aided by several hurried inhalations of a certain narcotic, had the instantaneous effect of rendering the recipient stupidly frantic. Springing upon his feet, he dashed, foaming at the mouth, among the rabble, and without any respect to age or sex, dealt vigorously about him, until at length secured by a cord about the loins, when he dragged his master round and round from street to street, snuffling through the nose like a bear in the dark recesses of every house, and leaving unscrutinised no hole or corner.

After scraping for a considerable time with his nails under the foundation of a hut, wherein he suspected the delinquent to lurk, the imp entered, sprang upon the back of the proprietor, and became totally insensible. The man was forthwith arraigned before a tribunal of justice, at which Ayto Kálama Work presided; and although no evidence could be adduced, and he swore repeatedly to his innocence by the life of the king, he was sentenced by the just judges to pay forty pieces of salt. This fine was exactly double the amount alleged to have been stolen, and one fourth became the perquisite of the Lebáshi.

The services of the hereditary thief-catcher are in universal requisition. Should the property lost consist of live instead of dead stock, it not unfrequently happens that the disciple remains torpid upon the ground; when all parties concerned feel perfectly satisfied that the animal has either strayed or been destroyed by wild beasts, and the expenses attending the divination must be paid by the owner. With the design of testing the skill of the magician, the Negoos once upon a time commanded his confidential page to secrete certain articles of wearing apparel pertaining to the royal wardrobe, and after an investigation of four days, the proper individual being selected with becoming formality, the professional reputation of “him who catches” acquired a lustre which has since remained untarnished.

Many a weary hour was passed in listening to tales of real or counterfeit maladies, which were daily recounted in the hovel at Alio Amba. Witchcraft and the influence of the evil eye have firm possession of the mind of every inhabitant, and sufficiently diverting were the complaints laid to their door by those who sought amulets and talismans at the hand of the foreigners. A young Moslem damsel, whose fickle swain had deserted her, could never gaze on the moon that her heart went not pit-a-pat, whilst the tears streamed from her dark eyes; and a hoary veteran with one foot in the grave sought the restoration of rhetorical powers, which had formed the boast of his youth, but which had been destroyed by the pernicious gaze of a rival. “Of yore,” quoth he who introduced the patient, “this was a powerful orator; and when he lifted up his voice in the assembly, men marvelled as he spoke; but now, although his heart is still eloquent, his tongue is niggard of words.”

Equally hopeless was the case of an unfortunate slave-dealer, who crawled in search of relief to the abode of the king’s guests. A Galla of the Ittoo tribe had undertaken the removal of severe rheumatism, contracted on the road from Hurrur; to which end he administered a powerful narcotic, which rendered the patient insensible. Armed with a sharp creese he then proceeded to cut and slash in every direction, from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot; and when the mutilated victim awoke to a sense of his melancholy condition, the ruthless operator had disappeared. Scarred and seamed in every part of his body, he now presented the appearance of one who had been flayed alive, and the skin had so contracted over the gaps whence the flesh had been scooped, that, unless with extreme difficulty, he could neither eat, drink, nor speak. “My life is burdensome,” groaned the miserable picture of human calamity; “and it were better that I should die. I have bathed in the hot springs at Korári without deriving the slightest relief. You white men know every thing: give me something to heal me, for the love of Allah!”