[Illustration: THE SOURCE OF THE BLUE NILE SHOWING LAKE IN
THE DISTANCE.

_See p._ 136.]


                           THE SOURCE OF THE
                               BLUE NILE

        A RECORD OF A JOURNEY THROUGH THE SOUDAN TO LAKE TSANA
              IN WESTERN ABYSSINIA, AND OF THE RETURN TO
                   EGYPT BY THE VALLEY OF THE ATBARA

                                 WITH
                 A NOTE ON THE RELIGION, CUSTOMS, ETC.
                             OF ABYSSINIA

                                  BY
                    ARTHUR J. HAYES, L.S.A. (LOND.)
               MEDICAL OFFICER, QUARANTINE OFFICE, SUEZ
                                  AND
                       AN ENTOMOLOGICAL APPENDIX
                                  BY
                     E. B. POULTON, LL.D., F.R.S.
         HOPE PROFESSOR OF ZOOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD

                     _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND MAPS_

                                LONDON
                SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE
                                 1905

                        _(All rights reserved)_


                              PRINTED BY
                   WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
                          LONDON AND BECCLES.




                                PREFACE


In Africa the centre of interest shifts quickly, from Khartoum to the
Cape, from the Congo to Morocco. Before now it has lain in Abyssinia,
for Englishmen especially. It may be found there again. If so, the
theatre of action will probably be the little known region of Western
Abyssinia, and that district of the Anglo-Egyptian Nile Province which
adjoins it.

Geographically, Western Abyssinia dominates the south-east of the
Soudan. The Soudan, as every one in England knows now, is not a
continuation of the Desert of Sahara, but a land that once flowed with
milk and honey, and may again. It contains vast tracts of soil
perfectly adapted for the cultivation of cotton. A hostile force
descending from Abyssinia has the enormous advantage of moving from
difficult into easy country with an open line of retreat into almost
inaccessible mountains. An expedition from the Soudan, on the other
hand, would be confronted, after traversing miles of uninhabited hilly
wastes, by the necessity of forcing its way up mule-paths winding among
precipices.

There is no reason why peace should not be permanently established
between Egypt and Ethiopia, if the Abyssinian slave-raids are stopped.
But the changes and chances of international politics bring about
strange consequences. Rumours, not without foundation, have been
circulated recently of new engagements entered into by the Negus giving
far-reaching concessions to Americans. Other Powers are busy, and a
diplomatic—and spectacular—mission started lately from Berlin for Addis
Abbiba. There is room in the country for all nations to find commercial
opportunities. But if influences hostile to Great Britain became
dominant in Western Abyssinia, a danger to the Soudan—and not to the
Soudan only—would have arisen, the seriousness of which few people at
home, perhaps, rightly realize. I make no further apology for bringing
some account of a journey from Khartoum to Lake Tsana before the public.

My heartiest thanks are due to my friend, Mr. Godfrey Burchett, without
whose aid in preparing for publication the rough notes of a traveller’s
diary, this book would not have come into existence. I cannot too
cordially acknowledge my indebtedness to him.

I wish to acknowledge also my great obligation to Sir W. Garstin, who,
on behalf of the Egyptian Government, has allowed me to reproduce the
map of Lake Tsana, published in his Report on the Basin of the Upper
Nile (1904); to Professor Poulton for his kindness in preparing the
entomological appendix to this volume; and to Mr. C. E. Dupuis for
permission to publish interesting photographs taken by him. And I have
the pleasure of cordially thanking Mr. John Murray for leave given me
to make extracts from “Life in Abyssinia,” by Mansfield Parkyns, and
the “Narrative of the British Mission to Theodore, King of Abyssinia,”
by Hormuzd Rassam; Messrs. Macmillan and Co., for similar permission in
the case of “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” by Sir Samuel Baker;
Messrs. C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd., in the case of “Abyssinia,” by Herbert
Vivian; Messrs. Chapman & Hall in the case of “A Narrative of a Journey
through Abyssinia,” by Henry Dufton; and Mr. Augustus Wylde in the case
of “Modern Abyssinia.” It would have been impossible to publish the
collated information about the Soudan and Abyssinia contained in this
volume without the privilege kindly granted me by these gentlemen.

                                                         A. J. HAYES.

SUEZ, 1905.




                         LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                           TO FACE PAGE

  THE SOURCE OF THE BLUE NILE, SHOWING LAKE IN THE
  DISTANCE                                               _Frontispiece_

  THE START AHEAD OF THE CARAVAN                                      4

  CHILDREN AT NO. 6 STATION, BETWEEN HALFA AND ABOU HAMED,
  EAT THE REMAINS OF LUNCH, CURRY AND RICE                            4

  THE WELCOME AT ABOU HARRAS                                         13

  VILLAGE MUSICIANS AT ABOU HARRAS                                   14

  THE WELLS AT THE FOOT OF GEBAL ARANG                               18

  MR. FLEMMING’S HOUSE AT GEDAREF                                    22

  REST-HOUSE BETWEEN GOZ REGEB AND ADARAMA                           22

  GUM-BEARING MIMOSA TREES                                           30

  TRYING THE TEMPERATURE OF A PATIENT AT THE DOCTOR’S PARADE         30

  RAIN COUNTRY                                                       64

  THE KNOTTED SAPLING NOW BECOME A TREE                              66

  MESSENGER SENT TO STOP US GOING DOWN TO THE LAKE                   68

  HOUSES AT DELGI                                                    79

  WASHING OUT “TEDJ” POTS AT DELGI                                   79

  A CASE OF LEPROSY                                                 104

  FORDING THE RIVER GUMARA                                          106

  INTERESTED IN THE PHOTOGRAPHIC CAMERA                             110

  WOMEN DANCING AT THE FEAST OF THE EPIPHANY                        110

  THE “CANDELABRA EUPHORBIA” ON THE EDGE OF A DRY WATER-COURSE      114

  BETWEEN SARA AND KORATA                                           114

  THE CHURCH AT KORATA CONTAINING THE FRESCOES                      118

  THE PORTUGUESE BRIDGE OVER THE BLUE NILE                          118

  FRESCOES IN THE CHURCH AT KORATA                                  120

  OUR GUIDE BETWEEN KORATA AND WOREB                                132

  THE DONKEYS CROSSING THE FERRY                                    140

  THE MULES SWIMMING THE FERRY                                      140

  PUSHING THE DONKEYS INTO THE WATER, PREPARATORY TO THEIR
  BEING FERRIED ACROSS                                              142

  INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH AT BAHARDAR GEORGIS                        154

  MARKET-DAY AT ZEGI                                                162

  INTERVIEWING THE SULTAN OF DELGI                                  170

  THE SULTAN OF DELGI, AN OLD PRIEST, AND SLAVE CARRYING
  THE SHIELD                                                        170

  HEAD OF A HAARTEBEEST                                             184

  “LATES NILOTICUS” CAUGHT WITH A TROUT-ROD                         184

  HADENDOWA, CAMEL-DRIVER                                           186

  DINKA BOY, CAMEL-DRIVER                                           186

  SOUDANESE WITH AMULETS                                            190

  AT THE WELL, GORATIA                                              190

  KASSALA HILL AND MARKET-PLACE                                     204

  THE MOUDIRIEH AT KASSALA                                          206

  TENTS PITCHED IN THE ENCLOSURE OF THE MOUDIRIEH AT KASSALA        206

  GOZ REGEB GRANITE STONE, MIMOSA SCRUB IN THE DISTANCE             208

  GOZ REGEB STONES                                                  208

  ROCKS AT GOZ REGEB                                                210

  ROCKS AT GOZ REGEB HILL                                           210

  A MIRAGE, SHOWING GOZ REGEB HILL IN THE DISTANCE                  212

  LORD KITCHENER’S BRIDGE OVER THE ATBARA, NEAR BERBER              214

                                 MAPS

  THE ANGLO-EGYPTIAN SOUDAN                          _At end of Volume_

  LAKE TSANA                                                 „




                                  THE
                        SOURCE OF THE BLUE NILE

                               CHAPTER I


In October, 1902, I was acting as Medical Inspector of the native
quarter of Alexandria. Cholera had kept the staff busy, and we had
brought the number of cases down to about fifteen in the last days
of the month. I had passed the disinfecting gangs in review one
morning before sending them to their allotted quarters of the town,
and had just resumed my work in the hospital, when I heard a voice
sing out to me—without preliminary—“Hayes, would you like to
go to Abyssinia?”

It was the Chief Inspector of the Sanitary Department who asked the
question. By the evening I had made up my mind, and told him that I
should be glad to take the chance. However, I heard nothing more of
the matter till the middle of November. Then I received a telegram
directing me to make my preparations in Cairo. And I had no time to
waste; for I learned that the expedition to which I was attached
would start in seven days. The “jumping-off place” would be
close to Khartoum.

Twenty years earlier the journey thither would have had a lingering
fascination of romance. Ten years earlier it would probably
have brought the traveller by painful paths to the Land of No
Return. To-day it lies within the range of the prudent tourist who
prefers safe adventures between regular meals. He is much indebted
to Lord Kitchener.

In Cairo I joined my companions Mr. Dupuis and Mr. Crawley. They had
had arrangements for the expedition in hand for many months; indeed,
it had been planned for the previous year, but the illness of Sir
William Garstin at Khartoum delayed it. On November 27 we reached
Assouan. Like hundreds of my fellow-countrymen, I photographed the
great dam, and the temple of Philæ. Our next stage was by post-boat
to Wady Halfa, where we arrived on December 1. In the evening of that
day we took train on the Soudan Government Railway. The following
morning I had a new experience; for I had never before seen the
mirage from the window of a railway carriage.

The granite rocks seemed to rise out of a great lake. The illusion
was so perfect that I used it as a test of my black “boy’s”
shrewdness. I called him, and said, “Look at the water!” His
answer was, “It is not the water. It is the water-thief, your
excellency.”

In this desolate land, with a burning sky over it, there are no
trees. It is all of a piece, and the different parts of it give no
sense of varied locality. The stations are not named but numbered,
and here the water is stored in zinc tanks. Command of the tanks
means command of the country—an important fact in connection with
possible _émeutes_ of native troops.

At Abou Hamed we reached the Nile again, and saw vegetation. Warm
baths are provided in the station. We jumped out of the train in
our pyjamas and rushed into luxury.

The railway follows the river to Helfiah, on the opposite side
of the river to Khartoum. Here I first beheld our camels, the
steadily stubborn source of infinite vexation. All that is hard and
heart-breaking in the character of the desert is incarnate in the
camel. At Helfiah we engaged Soudanese “boys,” settled matters
with officials, and finished our preparations for shooting big game.

I went to the Soudan Club at Khartoum, and strolled about the town
in the spirit of an inquiring tourist. It is carefully administered,
and is laid out in three sections. The best houses are being built by
the riverbank. Plans of these must be submitted for approval. They
are mostly of red brick, and well constructed. Smaller houses, the
“second class,” have their sites behind the big residences. The
“third-class” district is still further back. The object of
this caste system applied to builders’ enterprise is to secure
that there shall be a fine promenade along the river front, and no
mean streets near to it. The British and Egyptian flags are hoisted
side by side over the quarters of the army of occupation. The
Gordon College—the other tribute to the man’s work—is a big,
square, red-brick building. It seems to insist on its resemblance
to barracks. No dahabeahs are seen on the Nile here; the boats
are feluccas. Having made these notes of a tripper I returned to
Helfiah. This was on December 5.

We dined in our camp, and slept in our tents for the first time, and
I ceased to be a tourist, and became a member of an expedition. My
companions and I showed the servants how to pitch the tents and peg
them, and we apportioned loads to the camels. The camel is—not
metaphorically—foul-mouthed. We put some of the boys up to try the
paces of the animals, trusting chiefly to one who had served in the
Camel Corps under Kitchener. I watched the exhibition of ungainly
shuffling with the face of one who judges, but I thought of the
hours during which I should be shaken under the glaring sun.

Next morning we were up at sunrise. We had not yet lost touch of the
British breakfast-table, for we ate sausages and poached eggs. Then
the camels were loaded and the tents were struck, and at mid-day we
started—three Englishmen, six native servants, forty camels, and
ten camel-men. Our route lay along the north bank of the Blue Nile,
over a beaten track in a wilderness of loose sand. A few scattered
thorny mimosa bushes are the only vegetation. I timed the camels
and found they travelled about 3¼ miles an hour. At two o’clock
the temperature was 104° F. in the shade, but all the surroundings
were new to me, and I enjoyed the journey in spite of the monotony of
the country. It is all bare desert, and one never loses sight of the
mirage. At one point I watched a flock of goats, which looked exactly
as if they were knee deep in water. We reached Soba, fourteen miles
up the river, at sundown. Here there is a pleasant and clean little
rest-house built of straw. We had kept ahead of our baggage-train,
which arrived an hour later. People in England who speak of tea
as refreshing do not know the full meaning of that word. The cups
were filled for men who had fasted since breakfast at 7.30, except
for a welcome drink of river water on arrival, and were served
with biscuits and sardines. After this, the happiness of a wash,
and an eight o’clock dinner. A meal of curry and rice and tinned
roast beef is not a severe hardship, and the only _contretemps_
on our first day in the desert was the discovery that we must put
ourselves on short rations of candles. A mistake had been made about
the quantity ordered, and we were ill supplied. But there was a clear
moon. We turned in to sleep in the open, and the sandflies found us
and were glad; for we were fresh blood, and they were small enough
to crawl through the meshes of the mosquito curtains.

[Illustration: THE START AHEAD OF THE CARAVAN.

_See p._ 4.]

[Illustration: CHILDREN AT NO. 6 STATION, BETWEEN HALFA AND ABOU
HAMED, EAT THE REMAINS OF LUNCH, CURRY AND RICE.

_See p._ 2.]

The first signs of dawn brought us out of bed next morning. We were
in good luck; for the servants had kept a fire alight all night, and
hot water was ready for us. There was beatitude in a warm bath after
the plague of sandflies. We started at daybreak; there was no change
in the track or the country. Heat, a high wind and dust spoiled the
journey in the morning. We halted to lunch under the largest mimosa
bush we could find, which gave as much shade as a telegraph pole.

Crawley opened his big artist’s umbrella, which should have been
a successful aid to comfort, but it tried conclusions with the wind
and was worsted. We started again at two o’clock, and arrived in
the evening at our camping-ground opposite the pleasant village
of Sheik-el-Obeid. Our guns played the part of poulterer for us
and varied our diet. In the morning Dupuis had shot a brace of
sand-grouse, and in the khor[1] below our camp I had the luck to
bag a teal. The temperature fell rapidly after sundown, and the
night was very cold. The mosquitoes were numbed and did not stir,
but the camels did, and I found them as effective in promoting a
vigil. All night long they were browsing on the mimosa scrub; they
relish the thorns, which are about two inches long. I heard them
pull the branches, and then, when one was released, it recoiled into
place with a swish. There was a continuous noise of this movement,
and it vaguely reminded me of breaking water.

The camels were hobbled, and stumbled from bush to bush. I constantly
expected that one would stumble upon my bed. They loomed up, shadowy
and grotesque, in the light of the bearers’ fires, and I had a
kind of nightmare of them without sleep.

On the 8th we were up before sunrise. Probably the camels, after
supping all night, were tired. I say “probably”; for the camel is
an aberrant type, and one can only guess its sensations. They were
unwilling to barak[2] to receive their loads, and were grunting,
snarling, and growling. When one of these beasts seems likely to
become unmanageable, the camel-man “bridles” it by passing his
index finger through the orifice between its nostrils. In breaking
in young ones, a stout thorn, shaped as a peg, is used in the same
position.

We started at 7.30, and walked ahead of the baggage train with our
guns. At nine o’clock, when the sun had gained power, we took to the
saddle. The country through which we passed is cultivated during the
rainy season; it is scored with ravines, hollowed out by the rush of
water in the wet months, and is uncomfortable ground for travellers.

During the day we shot five pigeons and a sand-grouse. Beside the
river we saw and heard great numbers of demoiselle cranes, but found
it impossible to get within gun-range of them. They have scouts on
the watch both when they are in flight and when they settle, and
as soon as the warning cry is given by the outpost the shooter’s
chance is gone.

We reached our camping-ground, near Bushagra, before five o’clock,
and pitched one tent for our own use in case a dust storm should
come upon us. I bathed on the brink of the river, but kept out of
the pool for fear of crocodiles. As yet I had seen none, but I made
their acquaintance quite closely enough later in the journey. The
night was warm, and we slept in the open on the bank of the Nile.

I began the next day (December 9) with a lucky shot. I had put my
gun and a No. 3 cartridge—the only one I had—on the table near my
bed before turning in, as I hoped that the demoiselles might be less
cautious before daybreak. I was up an hour before dawn, and loaded my
gun. I could hear the croaking of the birds for a long distance, and
knew from the sound that they were moving. Just at the moment when I
was ready, three cranes sailed over the camp. They were within range;
and when I fired, a fine demoiselle collapsed and came to the ground
in a heap. These birds make good eating.

All the country in this district has the same character. The low
mimosa scrub is varied by patches of land which are cultivated in the
rainy season. The Khalifa had his powder and cartridge factory at
Bushagra, and possibly the natives thought that European vengeance
might fall on them for this reason. In any case the Soudanese here
showed nervousness, and made off when they saw us coming.

We ate another British breakfast—porridge and sausages—and
then started on foot with our guns at half-past seven. A tramp of
five miles gave us no sport, and we mounted our camels about nine
o’clock. Our road lay through the hottest country I have ever
known, and the temperature rose hourly as the day advanced. Smoked
glasses ease the eyes a little, and there is shade under one’s
white umbrella, but nothing seems able to allay the thirst which this
land causes. It is a mistake to suppose that one must go east of Suez
to gain experience of true human drought. The water in my bottle[3]
lasted, and only just lasted, through the journey.

Hot, parched men, in a hot, uninteresting land, are not likely to
be in their best temper, and we had to bear with our guide. He had
asserted that he knew the whole country, but he barely knew how to
follow the track, and seemed to lack ideas of time and distance. We
asked him, “When shall we reach the river again?” He pointed to
a large section of the heavens and answered, “When the sun reaches
there.” He could not tell us the names of villages which lay on
our route, and our maps were not trustworthy.

We reached the river bank after our halt at lunch-time, but left it
again, and my camel’s action appeared to be more back-breaking and
monotonous than ever. Two hours in the saddle seemed like four, and
Xenophon’s Greeks were not more delighted to behold the sea than I
was by the sight of the blue water as we approached it late in the
afternoon. Our camping ground was beside the stream, and I rushed
to the brink with my enamelled mug; the water was rather muddy,
but the draught seemed like nectar.

I tried for a fish, without success. When I returned to camp I heard
a camel grunting loudly and dismally. On going to discover the cause,
I found the animal fastened to the ground by cords, while a man was
scarifying its back with live cinders. The object is to produce
counter-irritation as a remedy for cysts. I arrived too late to
deliver the unhappy beast from the horrors of Soudanese veterinary
treatment, as the operation had just been completed. However, I gave
the Arabs “a piece of my mind.” They may not have understood my
Arabic, but they could not mistake the meaning.

We had covered twenty miles during the day and camped beside a khor,
opposite to a village called Baranku, which is situated on an island
in the river.

On the following morning we started with our guns and walked ahead
of the camels. Besides pigeons, we shot plovers of two kinds which I
had not seen before. Our route throughout the day was over fertile
soil, perfectly adapted for the cultivation of cotton. At present,
grain (durrha) is grown here, and apparently only one crop is raised
annually, after the summer rains. But Dupuis told me that if a canal
were cut and a system of irrigation established the soil would bear
“the kindly fruits of the earth” all the year round. Villages are
numerous in this district, and we never lost sight of one or other
of them during our day’s journey. I noticed a great disproportion
between the numbers of male and female inhabitants. In a hamlet in
which I made inquiry there were eighteen women to one man. Nearly all
the men had perished in the days of the Mahdi and Osman Digna. As
a consequence, the women worked in the fields, while their few
surviving consorts led lives of idleness. I suppose they were
considered, and considered themselves, too valuable to be subjected
to fatigue. They were too poor to buy tobacco, or smoking might
have kept them silent. As it was, when they were not asleep they
were talking, and I wondered how they could possibly find topics
for incessant conversation.

We halted for the night on the bank of the river, two miles
from Rufa’a, which is the second largest town on the Blue
Nile. Miralai[4] Blewitt Bey, the Moudir[5] of Rufa’a, sent a
police officer with a courteous message, expressing his desire to do
all in his power to assist us. A welcome gift of eggs and fresh milk
reached us a few hours later, and at the same time two night-watchmen
(Gaffirs) arrived for the protection of the camp. We were heartily
grateful for our countryman’s good-will. Dupuis dined with him
that evening, while Crawley and I remained in charge of the camp.

In the course of the afternoon I applied iodoform to the back of one
of the camels, to keep the flies from a sore. All the drivers came
clamouring to me after this, importuning me to treat every scratch
on the beasts of burden in the same way. One wishes to conform to
the tradition of ready helpfulness which is, happily, associated
with the medical profession, but I declined to become physician in
ordinary to the forty camels, as far as abrasions were concerned.

Next morning our troublesome guide sought me out to complain
of symptoms of dyspepsia. He remarked that he was incessantly
spitting—a circumstance which I had already noticed with disgust. I
told him that if he swallowed the water which Allah gave him in his
mouth, it would make his food move from the place where he had the
pain, which was a punishment from Providence for his wastefulness. He
asked many questions to make sure that I knew what I was talking
about, and then left me, much impressed. My “prescription” had
the desired effect, and he gave up his objectionable habit.

The morning of December 11 was very cold for these low latitudes. Just
before sunrise the thermometer sank to 43° F. When we were ready
to start, we found that the head baggage-man was drunk. He had
been tippling “marissa,” which the villagers brew from fermented
barley. The man leered vacantly and was incapable of work. Considering
the thirst and the opportunities there was little drunkenness among
our boys in the Soudan, and we had no further trouble from this
source. But the precepts of the Prophet did not keep those who
accompanied us into Abyssinia from the vile beer of the country.

Blewitt Bey, on his pony, met us just after we had mounted our camels,
and rode five miles with us. He gave us most valuable information
about the land in which our road lay, and we were sorry when he said
good-bye with best of wishes for our success.

We were in the saddle nearly eight hours and travelled about
twenty-three miles. We reached our camping-ground at Abou Harras at
five o’clock. The sun set almost immediately, and we, who were
in advance, pitched our three tents by moonlight. The last of the
baggage train did not arrive till an hour and a half later, and the
drunken “Sheik of the Afsh”[6] was not with it.

The country through which we passed was similar to that which we had
seen on the previous day. It is perfectly fertile. We had left the
sand and mimosa scrub behind us, and were in a well-wooded region,
with abundant undergrowth of bushes. The open ground is covered by
grass which grows to a height of nine feet in the rainy season,
but was now dried and matted under foot. It supplies pasturage
for cattle, and I saw a herd of kine grazing on it. They were in
fine condition. I handed my mug to the herdsman and asked him for
some milk. He gave it to me willingly, and I thought it the best I
had tasted since I left England in 1899. It seemed to me that this
district offered a valuable field to British capital and enterprise.

I extract from my diary the following unsystematic notes, with an
apology to the reader:—The butterflies which I saw most frequently
on the journey were the clouded yellow and the red tip. The brimstone
and painted yellow are seen occasionally. The familiar cabbage white
is found on the banks of the river. I heard no singing bird except
the chaffinch, but I saw a pair of blackbirds, tits of many kinds,
and fly-catchers. A long-tailed species, which is a little smaller
than a ring-dove, is very common. It was called “albicora” by
our black boys.




[Illustration: THE WELCOME AT ABOU HARRAS.

_See p._ 13.]

                              CHAPTER II


We did not expect to receive a public welcome at Abou Harras, and
were thoroughly surprised when the entire village, on the morning of
the 12th, turned out to give us a reception. Women and men bore down
on us, dancing and clapping their hands to a hideous accompaniment
of tomtoms and drums. Many of them leaped and capered in the craziest
fashion to emphasize the display of pleasure at our arrival. The women
and children expressed their delight by a peculiar tremolo cry, which
reminded me of that heard in Lower Egypt at marriage festivals.[7]
One old man came on at a leisurely pace giving an exhibition of
sword-play in our honour. He afterwards delivered a panegyric of the
English, declaring that they were the saviours of his country, that
the children of the Soudanese were now no longer torn from them, and
so forth. I found that the young men were almost all absent from the
village, doing military service on the Abyssinian frontier; the women
who came out to show their delight officially by their shrilling were
“the girls they left behind them.” This singular deputation had
not approached very near, and presently retired a little way. Some
of the slower movements of those who took part in the ceremony were
by no means ungraceful, but the din was indescribably discordant. I
went to inspect the procession at close quarters, supposing that it
would shortly withdraw and disperse. But the “music” continued
for fully an hour and a half, and it was more difficult to endure
patiently during the latter part of the time as we were all busily
writing letters for the homeward mail. A messenger had to carry
them half a dozen miles and return immediately to rejoin, and he
was waiting for our correspondence.

The point of junction of the river Rahad with the Blue Nile is half a
mile distant from Abou Harras, and my companions walked to the spot
later in the day. I attended to some odd jobs of the kind which a
traveller always finds he has in arrear, and then I tried for fish,
but caught nothing and lost my spinner. Many herons had taken their
station on a strip of sand about a hundred yards from the place
where I stood, and paid no heed to my presence.

On this day we had the good luck to receive two English visitors. The
first was Mr. Wilson, the Moudir of Wad-el-Medani. We could only
offer him a cup of rather muddy tea; but the village offered him the
public reception, and the music was as loud as ever at the second
performance. Our second guest was Bimbashi Gwynn, who landed from
the sternwheeler which had left Khartoum on the 10th. He was on the
way to Abyssinia to settle the boundary question. He had been in
that country before, and as he was able to stay and dine with us,
we had the benefit of many useful hints in the course of a pleasant
chat in the evening.

[Illustration: VILLAGE MUSICIANS AT ABOU HARRAS.

_See p._ 14.]

At Abou Harras we parted company with our guide, drivers, and forty
camels. There was no unhappiness at the leave-taking. We inspected
the men and animals that we had hired in their place, and devoutly
hoped we had made a better choice.

On the following morning the thermometer again sank to 43 degrees,
and the atmosphere and the water seemed bitterly cold to us. We
started on the road to Gedaref just before nine o’clock. Our new
guide was a Greek, who had made the journey many times, and was said
to know everything that need be known. I was sceptical.

Our route followed the course of the telegraph, and lay at first
beside the Rahad. This river differs considerably in the dry season
from the Blue Nile. In the latter we had found a fairly fast current
flowing over a stony or sandy bed between banks composed of mud. The
stream passed through a succession of shallows and deep pools. The
Rahad, at the point of junction with the Nile, was entirely dry, and
we proceeded some distance up the course before we found pools. The
banks are high and steep.

I do not think that Sir Samuel Baker at all exaggerated the fertility
and value of the land in this region. He wrote: “The entire country
would be a mine of wealth were it planted with cotton.”[8] The
Rahad, as he said, “flows through rich alluvial soil; the country
is a vast level plain, with so trifling a fall that the current
of the river is gentle.”[9] This circumstance would facilitate
irrigation. Besides mimosa trees and much other timber, we found in
this region matted growths of bushes and wide stretches of long grass
now tangled on the ground—all bearing testimony to the quality of
the soil.

I soon perceived that my hope of a better mount was vain. My new
camel was a failure from the start. His paces were indescribable,
and when he trotted I felt like a bad sailor in a small boat on a
lively sea. In an hour’s time I had lost my temper and got rid
of the camel. As the result, I was better served, and a beast was
brought for me which shambled evenly, and allowed me to keep up with
my companions.

We halted for lunch at a village called Hadeiba, where two sheikhs
came out to receive us. They were very polite, but would neither
eat nor smoke, as we were in the month of Ramadan. By-and-by they
remembered that they ought to give us a present, and left us,
saying that they would bring two sheep, according to the custom of
the Soudan. Half an hour later we quitted the spot.

That night we camped at a place named Khor Abou Segeira, close to
the Rahad. Near at hand was a muddy pool in the course of the river,
and we had to draw our supply of liquor from it. As usual, we set
our Berkfeld filters to work. A candle is a part of the apparatus
through which the water filters, and we found that this incessantly
became foul and required to be cleaned every three minutes. However,
we replenished our stock of clear water sufficiently, and then went
to bed by moonlight in the open.

We started at a quarter-past seven on the morning of the 14th. No
tents had been pitched the night before, so none had to be struck,
and our departure was earlier on this account. My companions and I
took our guns into the bushy ground beside the river while the camels
followed the track towards Gedaref. We were in search of guinea-fowl,
which are found in great abundance on the banks of the Rahad. These
birds run in flocks, and rise at about forty yards’ distance when
one tries to approach them.

I lost sight of my companions in the thick, tangled vegetation, and
after waiting where I was for a while in case they should chance
to rejoin me, roamed on. I found no guinea-fowl, but pigeons and
ringdoves were in great abundance, and there were hoopoes, hornbills,
kingfishers, and numbers of other birds. A little later I came to the
banks of the river. Here I saw a company of grivet monkeys. These,
according to Mansfield Parkyns, are called “tota” or “waag”
in Abyssinia. He described the species as “a beautiful little
greenish-grey monkey, with black face and white whiskers.”[10]
The natty little fellows whom I met by the Rahad just answered the
description. They were clean and sleek, and looked as “spry” as
cleverness could make them.

After following the course of the river for about half a mile I
made towards the track and found it without difficulty, but I saw
no sign of our baggage-train. However, one of our boys trotted up
a few minutes later, and then I learned that the camels were some
way behind. In fact, an hour and a half passed before they overtook
me. When the others came up, I learned that they had supposed me to
be lost and had scoured the country in all directions, and that the
whole party had been detained till all the searchers were called
in. I was intensely annoyed to find that I had been the cause of
the needless delay.

We lunched beside another muddy pool in the course of the Rahad,
and then moved forward to our camping-ground for the night, which
was called Mesr-el-Ashir.

During the journey we had noticed that our escort were driving two
sheep. We made inquiry about them, and were told that they had been
purchased by the Greek guide on the previous day. We had a very
strong suspicion that they were the animals which the Sheikhs had
promised us at Hadeiba, and that the subtle Hellene had benefited by
the gift. One of the sheep was killed in the evening, and we received
“a present” of a leg, some chops, and a couple of kidneys. The
meat was excellent.

Our route now left the course of the Rahad, and we turned eastward
towards Gedaref.

Our beds were spread in the open again. Orion was straight above me
as I lay, before falling asleep, and Sirius nearer to the southern
horizon. I looked for the constellation and the star each night when
I turned in, and had a sense of being in the presence of old friends
while I gazed at them.

On the following morning, December 15, I again changed my mount for
the better, and rode a smoothly trotting camel at last. Our day’s
journey was a short one, and brought us to the last watering-place
which a traveller on this road reaches before the wells of Fau. On
the way my companions shot a couple of guinea-fowl, and we were glad
to see them at dinner-time.

We camped at night close to a long range of hills of a granite
formation called Gebal Arang. They rise to a height of three hundred
or four hundred feet, and make a striking change in the landscape as
one approaches them. I knew that our Berbereen boys had never seen
such high ground, and watched them to observe what impression it made
upon them. It made none. They are an apathetic race, philosophers
of the _nil admirari_ school by temperament.

[Illustration: THE WELLS AT THE FOOT OF GEBAL ARANG.

_See p._ 18.]

On these inland marches we carried water in tanks, and were obliged
to hoard it. We had to go back in the morning to the allowance which
had served us for washing purposes overnight. In all this region,
every condition of life, important and unimportant, depends upon
the rivers. At Gebel Arang we saw gazelles and the antelopes called
ariels for the first time. We also caught sight of a large bustard,
and my companion stalked it unsuccessfully. It is hard work to carry
a gun in a hot country where every bush, and even the grass, grows
thorns that “mean business,” and the man who fails is usually
weary as well as disappointed.

Next day, December 16, we travelled at the foot of the hills. It
was a pleasant journey, for there was verdure, and the tall mimosas
threw shade on the track. Besides the flocks of guinea-fowl to
which we were accustomed, we saw a hare—the first we had found
in the Soudan. Before midday we reached the wells of Fau. The
drinking-water here is of a fairly good quality, but not quite free
from mud. Guinea-fowl again supplied our dinner. They are slow to
rise, but not easy to shoot; for they run in the most nimble fashion
among the thick covert, and to come within range, the “guns”
have to run too. The sun is strong overhead, the thorns are strong
all round, and the exercise is smart work, even for a man in sound
condition.

In the evening a messenger from the Intelligence Department reached
our camp. He brought us letters and papers, and I ascertained that
he, on a fast camel and without baggage, had travelled in two and
a half days a distance which we had covered in six.

Our halting-place was between two ranges of the hills. The wind
blew hard during the night, and the current of it came racing down
the valley where we lay. Great clouds of dust were carried with
it, and the particles were driven thickly into every crevice and
corner. Crawley and I tried to form a shelter by piling up our square
boxes behind us, but this was of little avail. It was an excitement
of a sort, but not pleasant to a sleepy man.

We lay later than usual next morning, December 17, as we did not
intend to strike our camp till midday. My companions went to shoot
the poultry, and I remained in my tent and nearly shot myself without
expending a cartridge. Our plan for securing fizzing drinks was to
put a sparklet in a bottle of water and screw in the top. I was busy
upon this operation when the bottle which I was handling burst. As
luck would have it, I received no injury, though I was peppered
with fragments of glass. One particle entered the eye of my boy
Achmet. I extracted it and found that no serious damage had been
done to the organ. After this, we abandoned the use of sparklets,
and fizzing drinks were things of the “dear, dead past,” and
the uncertain future.

We left the camp at midday, after six guinea-fowl had been brought
in, and struck into the waterless country between our halting-place
and Gedaref. The distance is seventy-two miles. We were obliged to
carry the drinking supply for the whole journey. Our route lay along
a good track that follows the line of the telegraph.

The soil in this region is soft, friable earth, perfectly adapted for
cotton cultivation. But the district is unhealthy in the rainy season,
when malaria prevails and the country is a reeking swamp of dead and
living vegetation. It was perfectly dry when we traversed it, and
we ran no risk of disease. The tangle of desiccated tall grass lay
upon the ground, as in so many tracts of this part of the Soudan,
and our road was bordered by mimosa shrubs. They grow thickly in
places, but were not high enough to give protection from the sun.

We halted for the night at five o’clock, and unpacked only our beds
and such things as were strictly necessary, for we were to start at
half-past four next morning.

I was very sleepy when I was roused at 3.30 a.m. on the 18th. We had
a cup of cocoa, and then left our camping-ground at the appointed
time by moonlight. The air was chilly even after the sun rose at six
o’clock, and the warmth of the day did not make itself felt before
eight. At half-past ten we halted for a _déjeuner à la fourchette_,
and rested for a couple of hours.

Darkness had fallen by the time we reached our camping-ground at
the place called Terras Wad-el-Fau. We had covered thirty-two miles
of our journey since the morning. At this spot we rejoiced to find
that an Egyptian soldier in charge of two _fantasses_ (watertanks)
had been sent to meet us by the Inspector of Gedaref. Our camel-men
with the baggage were some distance behind us, and we lighted a
bonfire of mimosa wood to cheer them forward. They overtook us at
their leisure, and our dinner of stewed guinea-fowl was not served
till a quarter to ten.

We were out of bed by five o’clock next morning, December 19,
and hastened the preparations for the start. We had to cover thirty
miles in order to reach Gedaref in the evening. All this country—I
cannot call it desert, though the conditions are not dissimilar—is
comfortless for travellers, but our last day’s journey in it was
the worst. The heat was intense; so much so that “resting” at
lunch-time seemed less tolerable than movement on camel-back. To
quench an incessant thirst we had only the water stored in our tanks,
which was warm and far from colourless. Even the hint of shade given
by the mimosa scrub had now disappeared, and our eyes were wearied by
the monotonous stretches of land, in which nothing was seen but the
dried and matted grass. It had been fired in places, accidentally I
think; for though it is often kindled to clear the ground for crops,
in this region there was no trace of agriculture. The flames had
a ghostly, exhausted, unreal look in the burning sunshine. After
a march that seemed interminable we beheld, from rising ground,
three trees with verdure on them, and then we knew that we were near
the boundary of this distressing district. A two miles’ journey
brought us to the house of Mr. Flemming at Gedaref[11]—a square
building made of sun-dried mud. At our countryman’s dwelling a
warm welcome and cool drinks awaited us. Here we found Bimbashis
Gwynn and Liddell. That evening Mr. Flemming gave us our Christmas
dinner—and we reconciled ourselves to antedating it—with true
British plum-pudding in the _menu_.

[Illustration: MR. FLEMMING’S HOUSE AT GEDAREF.

_See p._ 22.]

[Illustration: REST-HOUSE BETWEEN GOZ REGEB AND ADARAMA.

_See p._ 214.

_From a Photograph by Mr. C. E. Dupuis._]




                              CHAPTER III


I had slept in the open by choice and felt it a luxury to awake on
the following morning with no prospect of a fatiguing journey. At
seven o’clock on December 20 we met again at Mr. Flemming’s house,
and busied ourselves with amateur photography.

“You are the last white men I shall see until June next year,”
said our host, “so I want to keep your faces.”

After breakfast we proceeded to the selection of seventeen “boys,”
who were to go up with our donkeys from Gallabat to Abyssinia. The
character of the country beyond the frontier of the Soudan renders
transit by camel impossible. It struck me as an interesting fact,
not without a bearing upon the doctrine of Evolution, that the
change from a flat or undulating to a mountainous region is here
accompanied not only by a variation in the means of access, in the
climate, in the flora and fauna, but in the race of inhabitants and
the creed which they profess. In fact, the highlands of Abyssinia
may be said to constitute “an island on the land,” if one may
borrow the phrase which Darwin applied to the peaks of the Andes. And
a similar peculiarity in the survival of types can be observed here
as that to which the great biologist referred in the other connection.

Mansfield Parkyns pointed out that the Abyssinians were, in his
time, poor swordsmen, ridiculous in their practice of musketry
and frequently wanting in genuine courage.[12] Their country has
constantly been the scene of civil war and other dissensions. Indeed
the Jews among them, to whom I shall refer in another chapter, at one
time established a separate state in the “mountain fastnesses of
Semien and Belusa, where, under their own kings and queens called
Gideon and Judith, they maintained till the beginning of the
seventeenth century a chequered and independent existence.”[13]

In spite of these hindrances and deficiencies the Abyssinian people,
government and creed, have survived among heights protected on
one side by the sea and on the other by a tract of country which is
uninhabitable and impassable from May to September, on account of the
incessant torrential rains and the floods which they cause. If these
favouring conditions had not existed, the Abyssinian nation would long
ago have been “converted” to Islamism or exterminated, and in the
former case they would have become assimilated by consanguinity to,
if not merged in, the surrounding Arab and negroid tribes. As it is,
the Abyssinians form, ethnologically, an entirely distinct race.

This digression has carried me a long way from the “donkey-boys”
at Gedaref. They were paraded to the number of a hundred for our
inspection—Dongolis, Abyssinians, Tokrooris, Dinkas, Hadendowas,
men from every clan in the district. An uglier-looking crowd I never
beheld, and, as I gazed at the sinister, villainous faces, I hoped
rather than believed that our choice of seventeen would not include
robbers or murderers. We adopted the plan of choosing one or two men
from each of the different races. Experience showed that the policy
was sound, for no tribal quarrel was raised during our journey in
Abyssinia. None of the groups was strong enough to commence a feud
with confidence.

The business of selection was completed after the haggling and
confusion inseparable from a bargain among Orientals, and I spent
most of the remainder of this and the following day in acquainting
myself with the features of life in Gedaref. As this place is a
type of the more important towns in the Soudan, in which Great
Britain has a permanent interest, I hope the reader will tolerate
the transcription of a few of my notes.

The inhabitants number about eight thousand, and live—to use
Mr. Dufton’s description—“in a number of scattered villages,
the principal called Hellet-es-Sook, or the market town.”[14]
The dwellings in this part of the Soudan and in Abyssinia are of the
same construction, and I cannot better convey a conception of their
simplicity and their appearance to those of my readers who have not
seen them than by quoting the following passage from Mr. Dufton’s
work:—“Some of the houses are built of sun-dried bricks and have
flat roofs, but most of them” (almost all in Western Abyssinia)
“are conical thatched huts. The latter are made in the following
manner:—In the first place a circle of about twenty feet diameter
is described on the ground and surrounded by strong posts, each a
yard apart, which are interlaced with thin pliable branches of trees,
the whole being covered outwardly with durrha stalks, tied together
with the long grass common on the banks of the river. A roof is
formed in skeleton on the ground. A number of beams, corresponding
to that of the posts, are made to converge at the top, and are held
in this position by concentric circles of plaited twigs; the whole
being then raised to its position on the house, where it is fastened
and made ready to receive the thatch of straw and grass. Not a nail
or rivet of any kind is used in the construction of these buildings,
and they are rendered totally impervious to the wet. Of course their
disadvantage in comparison with mud houses is their liability to
catch fire, one or two cases of which I have witnessed; but they
are generally built at sufficient distance not to endanger others,
and a house of this description is rebuilt in a day or two.”[15]
Hence the scattered appearance of the huts. They cover a distance
some five miles in length at Gedaref. These dwellings are called
“tokhuls,” and I shall have occasion to allude to them frequently
under that name. In the Soudan storks build their nests round the
upper part of the roofs, and are not molested.

In Mr. Dufton’s time an open-air market was held twice a week
in Gedaref. He thus describes it:—“One part is devoted to the
sale of camels, cattle, sheep, and goats; another to that of corn
and durrha; another milk and butter; another raw cotton, dates,
etc. The butcher slaughters his meat on the spot, whether ox, sheep,
or camel. The camel is killed somewhat differently from the rest; for
it may well be imagined that a camel with merely its throat cut might
be a long while in dying. They therefore adopt the mode of striking
it with a long knife at once to the heart, having previously taken
care to tie his long legs in a manner that he cannot move.”[16]

The commerce of the place has been resuscitated since the British and
Egyptian occupation. The market is now held daily. In addition there
are the usual bazaars of an Oriental town. Gedaref has the advantage
of possessing wells from which water of good quality is drawn. The
place suffered severely in the time of the Dervishes. They raided the
district as often as their supplies ran low, ruined the cultivation,
and destroyed the greater part of the habitations.

The people seemed to be peaceable and contented under the present
administration, and I was struck by their politeness towards
Europeans. As we passed, they rose, if they were squatting on the
ground; those riding dismounted as a token of respect; those who
were at work discontinued it and stood still.

There are a certain number of shops in the town kept by Greeks. The
commerce of the Eastern Soudan is almost entirely in the hands
of Hellenes, who import goods by way of Suakim. The merchandise
is brought up the country by camel-train. The articles most in
request among the natives are cheap mirrors, tumblers, coloured
silk handkerchiefs and similar goods—in short, cheap finery and
cheap small commodities. I am not a commercial man, and do not speak
upon the point with certainty, but I think German houses meet this
demand. The Greek retailers also carry on a brisk trade in olives,
which are imported in barrels. Olives and bread are the staple of
the diet of many Soudanese, and they eat this simple food with relish.

We found that we could purchase sugar, taken from the familiar
sugar-loaf, soap, similar sundries and tinned provisions at
Gedaref. I was pleased to observe—for my own sake and that
of British enterprise—that the latter bore the trade-mark of
Messrs. Crosse and Blackwell.

My impression with regard to commercial opportunities in these towns
is that a northern-bred storekeeper could not compete with the Greek
retailer. I do not refer, in making this inference, especially
to the singular astuteness of the latter. But it is an important
consideration that these men are able to live almost on the same
scale as the natives, and their profits are due to the frugality of
their life.

We managed to start our baggage-train on the journey from Gedaref
to Gallabat by a quarter to eight on the morning of the 22nd
December. Then we breakfasted with Mr. Flemming, and mounted our
camels to take the road again at 9.15. We moved forward at a trot,
and I, now making trial of my fourth “steed,” found I had good
luck for the second time. But I do not think that any one could devote
to the camel the affection which is so readily given to a horse after
a brief acquaintance. The animal with the “sculptured sneer” does
not invite friendship. It grunts and grimaces when one mounts, and
the rider can be under no illusion as to its sentiment towards him.

We saw some ariel, and my companions gave chase and tried to get
within rifle-range. But the animals were shy and wary. The hunters
exhausted their supply of ammunition, but brought no game. We lunched
as usual in the scrappy shade of a mimosa bush, and reached Shisana
well shortly after four o’clock.

We had now left the “cotton soil” region, and entered an
undulating country, where our road lay over rocky or stony ground. The
character of the vegetation changed, and we began to pass through
glades of the great mimosa forest which extends from the neighbourhood
of Gedaref almost to Gallabat. Here the mimosas are not bushes but
trees, and it is from them that the gum-arabic is collected which
gives Gedaref its highly valuable trade and its prosperity. Large
quantities of the gum are exported by way of Suakim, and there is a
market for it at Cairo and other towns of Lower Egypt. For instance,
much crape is manufactured in Damietta, where I have watched the
process. Gum from Gedaref is used to stiffen the texture, and serves
the same purpose in the preparation of various silken fabrics.

The industry might be largely developed. At present it is in the
hands of Greek traders. As the supply of coin in the Soudan is small,
the gum is used as a kind of currency by the natives, who barter
it for other goods. A small duty is levied by the Government on
the quantity exported, and no one seems appreciably the worse. I
present this detail of information to fiscal controversialists,
and make no demand upon their gratitude in doing so.

The gum-bearing mimosas are, on an average, I should say, about
twenty-five feet high. The boles are straight. Thorns grow thickly
on the branches. The white bark gives a characteristic and almost
haunting feature to the great forest. The gum exudes, chiefly,
at the junction of the branches with the trunk. Its appearance has
been excellently described by Sir Samuel Baker: “At this season
the gum was in perfection, and the finest quality was now before
us in beautiful amber-coloured masses upon the stems and branches,
varying from the size of a nutmeg to that of an orange. . . . This
gum, although as hard as ice on the exterior, was limpid in the
centre, resembling melted amber, and as clear as though refined by
some artificial process. . . . The beautiful balls of frosted yellow
gum recalled the idea of the precious jewels upon the trees in the
garden of the wonderful lamp of the ‘Arabian Nights.’ The gum was
exceedingly sweet and pleasant to the taste.”[17] The trees were
in flower when we saw them, and the blossoms scented the air sweetly.

The present method of collecting gum is primitive and
unsystematic. Natives go a two or three days’ journey from Gedaref
into the forest, when they are pressed by want of a commodity to sell
or exchange, and return with as much as they have gathered at hazard.

[Illustration: GUM BEARING MIMOSA TREES.

_See p._ 30.]

[Illustration: TRYING THE TEMPERATURE OF A PATIENT AT THE DOCTOR’S
PARADE.

_See p._ 115.]

Throughout the day’s march we had seen fires raging in the dried
grass, and we had frequently passed places where the charred surface
showed the effect of the flames. The custom of setting the undergrowth
alight would destroy the mimosa forest, but for the fact that the
fires burn low and travel quickly. The branches of the trees do not
spring from the lower expanse of the boles, and there is consequently
no combustion of the timber, except where a quantity of old, sapless
wood is ignited.

Trouble threatened us at Shisana well. Grain for the donkeys and boys,
that were to accompany us into Abyssinia, had been packed in sacks
at Gedaref. The friction caused by the camels’ movement had frayed
these open, and the grain was lying on the ground when we arrived. At
first we feared that we should be obliged to return to the town and
purchase new sacks; but luckily the camel-men were bringing with them
a stock of capacious and pliable baskets, made of slit palm-leaves,
which they had intended to sell at Gallabat. These we commandeered,
and so extricated ourselves from the difficulty.

Our journey next day was through entirely similar scenery, over
undulating, rocky ground. We saw some ariel, but again they were too
shy for us. Then we “declined upon” guinea-fowl, and bagged two
after a brisk, exciting run.

The heat was overpowering, and at lunch-time we had no rest. Bees
abound in this region, and get their honey from the flowers of the
mimosa trees. As the land is almost waterless in the dry season, these
insects suffer much from thirst. Even the moisture of perspiration
attracts them in their parched state, and, in addition, there was
the smell of water from our drinking-supply. The result was that they
swarmed upon us; in fact, they mobbed us. Every drinking vessel was
crowded with them. Our boys drank from calabashes; when these were
put upon the ground, bees clustered on the edges and crawled towards
the liquor. Impatient successors thronged upon the first comers and
pushed them into the water, so that in a few minutes the surface was
a mass of “struggle-for-lifers.” In spite of the heat we had to
keep moving; for when we settled, so did the bees—all over us.

That night we pitched our camp in the mimosa forest, six miles from
the village and watering-place called Doka.

Next day—Christmas Eve—we started at seven, carrying our guns, and
had not walked a mile when we disturbed a flock of guinea-fowl. Away
they sped through the tangle of dry grass, and we after them. We
blazed away here and there, but the birds, hit or not, were out
of sight in an instant amidst that cover, and we missed in this
way many that we had not missed in the other. Our bag consisted of
four. When a bird dropped, the Soudanese “gillies,” who were
carrying our rifles in case big game should be seen, pounced upon it
and decapitated it. Otherwise it would not have been clean meat for
a Mohammedan. The land around Doka is hilly, and the ground rises to
a height of which Primrose Hill would be a good example. We reached
the village about nine o’clock.

Here we found, to our surprise, that the camel-men wanted to water
every beast in our convoy. We were but a few miles from another
watering-place, where the business could have been done in the
evening without wasting the hours of daylight in which we were able
to travel. We compromised by hurrying up the animals as soon as we had
filled our tanks, and when half a score had drunk, the well ran dry.

We pushed on through the mimosa country. The temperature was
about 102°, and I found the heat extraordinarily oppressive. The
trees around us and overhead—they grow thickly in parts of the
forest—seemed to shut out every movement of air, such as had always
relieved us a little in the open tracts. Our extreme thirst constantly
tempted us. We had made it a rule not to draw upon our ration of water
till eleven in the morning, and abstinence till then was Spartan
discipline. If one began to drink, it was a sheer impossibility to
leave off, and the supply did not hold out. On calm reflection at a
distance, I doubt whether our normal breakfast of tinned sausages
and tea was wisely selected under the circumstances. But it could
be quickly prepared, and we seldom had time to be leisurely.

While we were traversing the forest, I neither saw nor heard any bird
except the guinea-fowl. The dried grass in which they wander was
the only undergrowth. Usually the place was as still as a tomb. Of
larger animals I saw none but antelopes, and not many of these.

We halted for lunch in a small ravine, and the bees did not find
us till we had nearly finished the meal. We “smoked” them with
cigarettes, cigars, and a bonfire, to no purpose. Then we shifted our
quarters, but they followed. All of us were stung, and we were not
quit of them till we mounted our camels and outdistanced the swarms.

We camped for the night among the mimosas about seven miles from the
watering-place called Zeraf Zaid. I thought we had been delivered
from the plague of insects, but I deceived myself. Our camp was
stormed by hosts of small creatures—tiny beetles, flying ants, and
the like. They thronged and crawled on one’s candle, one’s book,
one’s face, and one’s hands, and I found it difficult to write
my diary. Some of them—I do not know whether they were prompted
by hunger or malignity—added insult to injury by biting us.

On the morning of Christmas Day we started with our guns in advance
of the convoy and bagged two brace of the usual poultry. I had
not hitherto found the country unhealthy, though the climate tries
one’s condition; but on this occasion I felt “out of sorts,”
and was glad—for a wonder—to mount my camel after the tramp in
the sunshine.

At 9.30 we reached the village of Zeraf Zaid. Here a clean hut serves
as a rest-house. We found the place pleasant and cool. Within it
were trestle-beds, of the kind commonly used in the Soudan and called
“angareebs.” Sir Samuel Baker has given a concise description of
them: “The angareebs, or native bedsteads, are simple frameworks
upon legs, covered with a network of raw hide worked in a soft state,
after which it hardens to the tightness of a drum when thoroughly
dry. No bed is more comfortable for a warm climate than a native
angareeb with a simple mat covering; it is beautifully elastic, and
is always cool, as free ventilation is permitted from below.”[18]
I concur in this favourable opinion of the native bed, and hope that
its value in cases of sickness or injury that are not serious may
be brought to the notice of the medical authorities of the army. It
would be easy to furnish tent-hospitals with this simple appliance
in any part of the Soudan.

We rested in contentment, and then lunched while the camels were
watered. Our convoy started at noon, and we two hours later. We
overtook the baggage at half-past three.

At Zeraf Zaid there is an outpost of “the Arab Battalion,” which
consists of Soudanese natives and Soudanese (_i.e._ naturalized)
Abyssinians,[19] Egyptian non-commissioned officers, and two
Englishmen, first and second in command, with the rank respectively
of colonel and major. The strength is about two hundred, and the
permanent head-quarters are at Kassala. The duty of the battalion
is to protect the frontier and suppress the slave raids which are
frequently attempted by Abyssinian subjects. I doubt whether the
latter part of the supervision duty is quite successfully performed
owing to the smallness of the corps, and it is well to bear in mind
that these raids may upon some occasion lead to serious political
complications affecting the attitude of the Anglo-Egyptian Government
towards the _Negus Negesti_.[20] He has but slight control over
his more powerful feudatories near the frontier; moreover, the
succession to the throne will assuredly be disputed upon the death
of the present ruler, and the whole country will then be plunged
in misrule and civil war. It is clear that a very serious state of
affairs may at any time be established in this region. Questions
arising from incursions made into territory where the British flag
flies from districts where no effective or responsible government
exists may assume the gravest importance.

The “Arab Battalion” is a sort of legacy to us from our
predecessors, and the men still wear the picturesque uniform chosen
for them in the days of the Italian occupation. It consists of a
white tunic extending to the knees, loose white trousers, sandals
surmounted by white gaiters, a broad green sash round the waist, and
a red tarboush with a green tassel. I cannot offer a valid opinion
upon the sufficiency of this body as a frontier guard in the event
of disturbances over a wide area, and I am not able to judge what
effect the racial sympathy of some members of it with Abyssinians
“over the border” would have in such a case.

Shortly after we had left Zeraf Zaid on the road to Gallabat we saw a
great bustard near at hand. One of my comrades tried to shoot it for
our Christmas dinner, but his luck failed him. However, I had brought
the materials of a plum pudding with me from Cairo, and hoped that it
would be a solace and a pleasant surprise for the other two members
of our mess. The cook obtained some eggs in the village, and I gave
him careful and emphatic directions and swore him to secrecy. Ours
is a phlegmatic race. The cook did his work creditably, the pudding
came to table, and was eaten without comment. The poultry in these
villages is of a stunted size, but the flesh is tender and makes
good eating. Pigeons are to be had in all the hamlets.

Our camping-ground for the night was a pleasant spot, bare of
grass, and surrounded by high trees. In honour of the day, and in
expectation of entering Gallabat early on the following afternoon,
I discharged a professional man’s duty towards his toilet, and
scraped a week’s stubble from my face. In the wilderness even a
doctor can neglect appearances.

On Boxing Day we entered rising country with features different from
those seen in the mimosa forest.

The sides of the rocky hills have been seamed with ravines by the
rains. Nearly all the trees are still of the same order, but certain
species have broader leaves, and their appearance resembles that of
the timber found in the temperate zones. However, I saw no specimen
of the varieties common in England. I heard one songbird in this
district, the chaffinch. Water-wagtails abound.

As usual, we made an excursion ahead of the baggage with guns and
rifles. The game birds are sand-grouse and partridges, and we shot
a brace of the latter. Crawley brought down an ariel buck, which
was in good condition. This was our first venison. The shot caused
intense excitement in our convoy, and the guides and boys all made
a rush for the beast to cut its throat before it died of the bullet
wound. It had been hit in the neck.

We rested in a ravine called Otruk—a lovely wooded gorge in which a
small stream was flowing. A little further down the course the water
disappeared in the sand. Here, for the first time, I saw a troop of
baboons. No doubt they inhabit caves and clefts in the surrounding
rocks. Some were fully of human stature. Partridges and guinea-fowl
were numerous here, and beyond question the rivulet in the khor
attracts animals of every kind existing in the district. It was
the first running water we had seen since we left the Blue Nile. We
rested until two o’clock, and then rode on towards Gallabat.

When we were half an hour’s journey distant from the town, we were
met by Mr. Saville, the Inspector, who accompanied us to our quarters.




                              CHAPTER IV


Politically, Gallabat is a place of much importance, as the principal
station on the frontier between Abyssinia and the Anglo-Egyptian
dominions. It is the terminus of the telegraph line whose course
we had followed along a part of our route, and I shall presently
explain why I think it would be difficult to carry the wire from
this point into Menelek’s country.

The town consists of two main thoroughfares and of the scattered
“tokhuls” which form the villages throughout Abyssinia and the
Eastern Soudan. It contains about eight hundred inhabitants. Formerly,
I have no doubt, there was a larger population, but this place, like
all other trading centres in the land, suffered severely in the days
of the Dervish ascendency. The “shops,” which abut upon the main
roads, are hovels in a row under a heavily thatched roof, and are
separated by rough and ragged partitions of cane thatch. They are
“business premises” only, and the proprietor and his family dwell
elsewhere. A considerable trade is carried on by Abyssinians who come
to Gallabat to sell coffee; sometimes they have a leopard’s skin
or other hunter’s trophy to barter in addition. They exchange their
goods chiefly for cotton, which is used in the making of _shamas_ and
other garments worn in Abyssinia. Sir S. Baker mentions a commerce
in bees’-wax and hides, but I saw no evidence of it in Gallabat,
and I think it must have declined.

The traffic in coffee proceeds regularly during the dry season, but
ceases, of course, when the rains make the neighbouring Abyssinian
hill-country impassable. A square, in which there are booths, is
set apart for the use of the Abyssinian traders. In the middle of
it are the large scales in which the coffee is weighed, and I was
much interested to learn that not only the amount of the import duty
payable to the Egyptian Customs, but also the sum charged as export
duty by the Abyssinian Government, was here determined by the weight
of the bundles. The latter tax is retained at the time in the hands
of the Anglo-Egyptian officials, and is afterwards remitted by them
to Menelek’s Revenue Department. I need hardly add that this is a
recent arrangement, and it seems to show that British influence in
the Soudan has inspired confidence at Addis Abiba.

The town of Gallabat is five miles distant from the bed of the
Atbara. It is built on the slope above a small watercourse. This
rivulet and the adjacent supply of drinking water which the
inhabitants use are—in all but details—as they were in Sir
Samuel Baker’s time. He thus described them:—“We were horribly
disgusted at the appearance of the water. A trifling stream of about
two inches in depth trickled over a bed of sand, shaded by a grove
of trees. The putrefying bodies of about half a dozen monkeys, three
or four camels, and the remains of a number of horses, lay in and
about the margin of the water. Nevertheless, the natives had scraped
small holes in the sand as filters, and thus they were satisfied with
this poisonous fluid; in some of these holes the women were washing
their filthy clothes.”[21] There are three wells in the town from
which good water is obtained. The soldiers of the garrison use this
supply, and it is available for all who will take the trouble to
draw from it. But generally, the inhabitants, either because they
are too indolent to pull up buckets or from mere adherence to custom,
prefer the “poisonous fluid” procured in the traditional way.

Our quarters were in the dismantled Dervish fort, which lies on
the summit of the hill, above the town. The thick brick wall which
surrounded it is now ruinous. In the enclosure are barracks for
a detachment of the Arab Battalion, a small rest-house, and the
telegraph station.

We set our boys to pitch three tents for us, and before long I had
the indescribable delight of tubbing in my portable rubber bath.

After this we received, in the rest-house, the interpreter whom
Menelek had sent to await us. His name was Johannes. I learned
that he had been three weeks in Gallabat, so perhaps it had been
expected that we should travel more rapidly than we did. With him
were an assistant, by name Walda Mariam, officially attached to his
“mission,” and a servant.

Johannes was a tall, handsome man, with grizzled hair and beard. In
person he seemed cleanly, but his _shama_—the toga-like robe,
also known as “quarry,”[22] which is universally worn by
Abyssinians—was soiled. It is unfashionable, and even a breach of
established custom, for a man to appear in a clean _shama_ except at
rare intervals. As all sorts and conditions of men in the country
are infested by vermin it may be imagined that an Abyssinian’s
clothes usually add nothing to the pleasure of his company.

Our interpreter had spent three years in Marseilles, and we
found that he and his followers conformed to the requirements of
civilization as regards dirt much more closely than the generality
of his countrymen. I do not know whether Parkyns’s description of
the use of butter as pomade still holds good in parts of Abyssinia;
probably not very widely, as Mr. Wylde tells us that “European hats
are getting very common, and are generally of the bowler, wideawake,
or Terai patterns,”[23] but in the western provinces, where nearly
all the people whom we met were peasants, we saw no sign either of
this innovation or that the dairy had been drawn upon to smarten
the _coiffure_. Nevertheless, greasiness of person was the rule.

I may mention here that bodily cleanliness is not only unusual in
Abyssinia, but raises a doubt as to the genuineness of a man’s
religious profession. In this respect matters have not changed since
Parkyns’s time. “St. John’s is the only cleanly day in the
calendar; for in the evening the whole population, male and female,
old and young, go down to bathe. It is a fact, that, excepting on
this occasion, there are many of the number, who, beyond washing
their hands before and after meals, and their feet after a journey,
never trouble the water from one year’s end to another. My
habit of washing every day in the European fashion gave rise to
much scandal on my first arrival; and it was constantly inquired,
‘Is he a Mussulman, that he thus washes, and so often?’”[24]
The Abyssinians are fond of shaking hands, and it is impossible
to avoid this civility without giving serious offence. Nearly all,
owing to their independence of soap, suffer from a complaint once
associated—wrongly, no doubt—with a highland region nearer home,
and the result was that none of the Europeans of our party escaped
_scabies_.

Johannes possessed a felt sombrero, which he held in his hand when
we received him in the rest-house. Like most of his countrymen, he
wore a cartridge-belt around his middle. He also carried a revolver
in his belt. His “boy” held his rifle. Altogether the interpreter
was a picturesque but piratical figure, and it occurred to me that a
group of Abyssinian “villains” would be effective in a melodrama.

The interpreter bowed to the earth each time we addressed him. He
had brought letters for us from Menelek and from Colonel Harrington,
the British Minister at Addis Abiba, which is now the capital of
the country. The king’s letter is a kind of superior passport,
which is generally granted to Europeans who enter his realm with
his consent. It is useful, but is not too obsequiously respected in
all parts of the land. Johannes had a fair knowledge of French—a
matter of importance to one of his calling, seeing that the
Abyssinians and the French are neighbours, and that an increasing
amount of the commerce and traffic of the country is likely to
pass through Jibuti. A railway has been commenced from that point,
and a concession obtained from Menelek for its extension into his
dominions. Mr. Herbert Vivian has recently pointed out the important
developments which may be brought about by the construction of
the line.[25]

The Dervish fort at Gallabat is literally a “cockatrice den.”
We speared eight or nine fine specimens upon the walls, using
our knives, and among them was the largest black scorpion I had
seen. The rest-house swarmed with these disquieting arthrogastra, and
one of our servants was stung during the evening. Parkyns remarked
that, though he had several times endured the sting himself without
serious consequences, he had heard of many instances which had ended
fatally.[26] Our boy probably had in his mind a similar dismal record,
for he howled till midnight. I had very little sympathy with him,
especially as he prevented me from sleeping. He, like the other
servants, had been provided with boots but persisted in running
about the fort barefoot.

I was delighted by the change of scenery which commenced at Gallabat
after the long tracts of desert and mimosa forest. To the eastward,
the Abyssinian mountains were visible, and there is a most stirring
splendour in the sight of the distant peaks when one beholds them
in the pink, hot glow of sunset.

An escort of ten men had been appointed for us. All these were
Abyssinians by race, but “naturalized” Egyptians, serving in the
Arab Battalion, and they spoke Arabic in addition to their native
tongue. There was an odd significance in the fact that our journey to
Lake Tsana familiarized the inhabitants of the western provinces of
Menelek’s kingdom with an Italian uniform which had become British.

On December 27 we “lazed” and enjoyed our indolence. Our only
activity was to make trial of our patent donkey saddles. We had
seventy of these, and found them anything but serviceable. The
natives fasten the loads on the donkeys by long thongs of hide,
giving about six girths for each animal. Our saddles allowed but
one girth, and, as the consequence, the loads slipped round. On
the 28th my companions went to take measurements in the course of
the Atbara. I remained in Gallabat and superintended the conversion
of camel loads into donkey loads. This involved getting the right
weight of flour and corn—fifty pounds—into the sacks. It was
troublesome work done by trying people, and the supervision of it
would have taxed the patience of a saint.

On the 29th we were all busy with the baggage, sorting our
supplies. We took with us sufficient for six weeks. The remainder
was left in the zaptieh,[27] and we fully expected that the rats and
the white ants would clear it up for us before our return. Our cook
had a touch of malarial fever, and during the day I gave him thirty
grains of phenacetine and nine grains of quinine. These quantities
were effective.

We were to start on the following morning, and sat longer
than usual over dinner, and many yarns were told about Egyptian
officials. One—I hope it is not a stale story to my readers—ran as
follows:—An Egyptian battalion, under a native officer, had been
sent to a remote district. The commander had orders to telegraph to
head-quarters if anything unusual occurred. He sent off a message
announcing that one of his soldiers had died suddenly, and that he
awaited instructions. The reply was, “Bury the man, but make sure he
is dead first.” The native officer thereupon reported by telegram,
“Have buried soldier, and know he is dead, because I hit him on the
head with a fishplate.” It need hardly be said that the fishplate
was not of the kitchen but the railway kind.

On the following morning, December 30, we had further proof of the
defects of the saddles which had been provided as baggage-gear for
the donkeys. When, after much tedious work, we had balanced the load
on an animal, we started it on the road and turned our attention to
another. Five minutes later, the beast that had been despatched was
brought back with its load under its stomach. My companions toiled
on through the heat of the day; but I fear my services became rather
like those of the fly on the wheel, for the malarial fever had got
hold of me, and the commencement of a bout with it nearly took me
off the list of effectives.

We made a start at last, a little after eleven o’clock, with the
intention of travelling about eight miles, and crossed the stream
below Gallabat by a stony ford, over which water a few inches deep
was running. I was told that this rivulet is never quite dry, and I
observed that in the bed of it were the stagnant pools usually found
in the watercourses of this district. We had seen the last of the
camels at Gallabat, and my companions and I now rode mules. They are
the best mounts in the rough, steep, and almost trackless region which
forms the western border of Abyssinia. Horses would be useless here
for a journey, either to carry men or for purposes of haulage; and
I doubt if ponies could anywhere be found that would be more than an
encumbrance, at least for long and steady travelling at a fair pace. I
believe that the Abyssinians of the Highlands use horses in their
hunting expeditions and slave-raiding forays—at all events they do
in their campaigns in their own country—and I have little doubt that
the inhabitants of the lofty hill district adjoining the border tract,
who are of mixed race and bandits by immemorial tradition, use any
animals they can lay their hands on when they, like Roderick Dhu and
his men, “with strong hands redeem their share” from travelling
merchants or Soudanese villagers. But these are “spurts” of work,
rapid dashes made by unencumbered men, not plodding regular marches,
and, generally speaking, those who cannot pass through this country
on a mule or an ass must use their own feet or not go at all.

When my companions and I had advanced about four miles, we halted
for lunch at a pleasant spot beside a brook. After the meal, some
guinea-fowl were seen, and one was bagged. No doubt many more were
hit and lost, as usual, among the high grass. We were in the saddle
again at three o’clock, and reached our camping-ground an hour
and a half later.

The fever had a grip of me by this time, and I rested in bed, and
soon felt the benefit of a dose of quinine. It enabled me to tackle
my dinner, and that is no small boon to a sick traveller.

Our boys had cut down trees and formed a zareba, within which the
donkeys were penned to prevent them from straying and give them
protection from hyenas.[28] I lay idly watching the camp-fires and
listening to the occasional outbreaks of scuffling and braying among
the donkeys, and presently fell asleep till dawn.

The country which we entered on that day is full of rounded
hills. Boulders crop out from the surface of them, and they are
separated by ravines with sandy beds. There is no regularity in the
configuration of these hills, and no uniformity in their size. When
I saw them they were covered either with dried grass or with mimosa
scrub.

The region which we had now reached is, as I have said, impassable
in the wet season, and Abyssinia is then impregnable as far as its
western boundary is concerned. The violence of the storms and the
rush of rain are such that it is doubtful whether even a line of
telegraph posts and wires could be carried through the district
with a likelihood that it would be in working order for any length
of time between May and September. The floods would probably be as
prohibitive to an underground system of wires as to one overhead,
and in both cases allowance would have to be made for the extreme
electrical disturbances which often occur at brief intervals during
the rainy season.

I have already referred to the raids that take place from the
Abyssinian side when the country can be traversed, and will only
add here that they are carried out frequently enough to maintain a
supply of slaves for all persons in the country whose prosperity
raises them above the degree of a peasant. For example, when we
reached Gallabat on the return journey we found that eighty-three
Soudanese had been carried off during an incursion which had been made
since we left the place. It is needless to insist on the difficulties
that may arise from raids of this kind undertaken by people who are,
nominally at least, subjects of the Negus.

I can testify that slaves are found everywhere in Western Abyssinia,
but among the female victims I never had the good fortune to behold
one of the class which impressed Sir Samuel Baker so pleasantly
at Gallabat. He wrote, “On my return to camp I visited the
establishments of the various slave merchants; these were arranged
under large tents formed of matting, and contained many young
girls of extreme beauty, ranging from nine to seventeen years of
age. These lovely captives, of a rich brown tint, with delicately
formed features and eyes like those of the gazelle, were natives
of the Galla, on the borders of Abyssinia, from which country they
are brought by the Abyssinian traders to be sold for the Turkish
harems. Although beautiful, these girls are useless for hard labour;
they quickly fade away and die unless kindly treated. They are the
Venuses of that country, and not only are their faces and figures
perfection, but they become extremely attached to those who show
them kindness. There is something peculiarly captivating in the
natural grace and softness of these young beauties, whose hearts
quickly respond to those warmer feelings of love that are seldom
known among the sterner and coarser tribes. They are exceedingly
proud and high-spirited, and are remarkably quick at learning. At
Khartoum, several of the Europeans of high standing have married
these charming ladies, who have invariably rewarded their husbands
by great affection and devotion. The price of one of these beauties
of nature at Gallabat was from twenty-five to forty dollars.”[29]




                               CHAPTER V


On the morning of December 31, the donkeys were laden and our journey
was begun by a quarter to eight. We were again hindered on the march
by the shifting of the donkeys’ loads.

Our track now lay among craggy mountains, in the rain-scoured
district, where there is no single human habitation. I saw neither
wild beast nor bird, and the country gave a strange impression of
stillness and lifelessness. The flora is quite distinct from that of
the Soudan. The trees are tall and spreading and of many different
species. I recognized the “Matabele apple,” and saw the hard,
uneatable fruit on the branches. The ground in many places was covered
with “bamboo grass,” too high for a mounted man to look over,
and the thick, overtopping growth seemed to shut out the air. As we
advanced during the afternoon we discovered that the grass had been
fired at several spots along our route—I do not know by whom,
or whether it was kindled accidentally or by design. The flames
drove out some partridges, and Dupuis and I thought that we saw
a tasty breakfast for the next morning. But when we moved forward
with our guns the birds, to our amazement, ran back into the burning
cover. The fire died out in the evening, and all was quiet at night.

There is much stony land in this district. The soil of the fertile
tracts is not of the friable kind which we had so often seen in
the Soudan: but there are many fissures in it, due, no doubt, to
alternate drenching and drying in the rainy season. Our road often
lay along steep and wide gorges, through which an enormous volume
of water descends to the Atbara at the time of the floods. My mule
was very steady on his legs and the motion was easy when he trotted
on open ground. He only showed the waywardness of his kind when I
led him. It was pleasant to think that some sort of understanding
existed between the rider and his mount after one had been accustomed
for weeks to the impassive eye of the camel.

On January 1, a couple of shabby fellows visited our camp in the
morning. We questioned them and found, from the answers which Johannes
translated, that they were the escort sent to accompany Gwynn and
were on the way to join him at Gallabat. He might consider their
company a sign that he was honoured, but scarcely a sound protection
against robbery. We struck our camp after this and commenced the
day’s journey, following the bed of a river. As usual, there
were dry tracts and well filled pools in its course. Later, we
climbed the bank and struck into the country beyond, continually
riding up hill and down dale. Again we saw an abundance of tall
grass and fine timber. The former was dry at this season, and had
been burned in many places. The country here abounds in big game,
but the height and thickness of the grass make it very difficult to
sight animals. We saw a koodoo, three gazelles, traces of elephants,
and spoor of other beasts, but none came within range.

We had covered fourteen miles by half-past eleven, and then halted,
considering that the donkeys had journeyed far enough. Our progress
depended on them, and we were careful not to overwork them. Three were
suffering from girth sores. We pitched our camp in a ravine about a
quarter of a mile distant from the bed of the Gundar Wahar—which
is the river Atbara with an Abyssinian name.

One of our escort was reported ill with fever, and I found that his
temperature was 104 degrees. But quinine had brought about a decisive
improvement by nightfall. I had another patient. My friend Crawley had
chafed his instep, and there was a bad sore on it. I had recourse to a
little doctor’s diplomacy to keep him still, and put on such a large
fomentation that he could not walk. Then Dupuis and I took our guns
and rifles and tramped in the jungle—for the mass of thick, lofty
grass deserved the name. My companion shot a brace of partridges, and
we saw some guinea-fowl, and much spoor of big game. But nothing more
got into our bag, and the excursion was wearisome and disappointing.

On January 2 our road again lay through hilly, verdurous
country. While the donkeys climbed or descended the steep inclines
their loads slipped as before, and kept all hands busy. The boys
were continually shouting for help, and the burdens were replaced
amid yelling and cursing. These natives never worked without talking,
singing, or swearing, and they were specially fond of hearing their
own oaths. But, I think, very little ill-will went with the words,
and in spite of the endless imprecations uttered over the donkeys,
they treated the animals well.

During the morning I took my rifle, filled my pockets with ball
cartridges, and rode ahead of our party in the hope of trying a shot
at big game. But I found small parties of Habashes[30] at intervals
along the track throughout a distance of two miles in front of our
convoy. Clearly it would be useless to search for any large wild beast
in the proximity of these groups. I recognized the men as folk who
had attached themselves to our train. They made a practice of camping
where we pitched our tents, and had hitherto forestalled us in the
choice of ground, and settled under the most suitable trees. They
sought protection from the robbers who infest the district—the most
notorious at the time was a Soudanese Arab called Hakos. I was glad
that these wayfarers should enjoy a sense of security, but resented
having sport spoiled. So I addressed a remonstrance to Johannes, who
promised that all camp followers should keep in the rear in future,
and he was as good as his word.

That afternoon we pitched our tents on the banks of the Gundar
Wahar, which was here a stream trickling from pool to pool. We had
travelled about fourteen miles. My friend Dupuis fitted out his
angling tackle, and tried his fortune in some of the pools, using
an ordinary spoon-bait. He caught three fair-sized fish, belonging
to the perch family. I saw him land the biggest, which weighed six
pounds, and showed fight. It had to be played into the shallows,
and was brought ashore in smart style. Crawley, who was lame, limped
to the edge of the river and cast a line with dough on the hook. He
fished patiently, and his perseverance was rewarded with two little
creatures of the size of sticklebacks.

All the camping-grounds by the waterside in this district are called
_warshas_, and as there are few distinctive names for places in
the uninhabited tract, we called the spots where we halted _warsha_
number one, _warsha_ number two, and so on.

In this region, near the rivers, the white ants are extremely
numerous. They are not seen at a distance from water, and cannot
work without moisture to renew the fluid that exudes between their
mandibles. This enters into the composition of the stiffened earth of
which they build their dwellings. They are voracious and destructive,
and have a propensity for gnawing leather, felt—which unfortunately
they found in the pads of the donkeys’ saddles—and any textile
material. They are most active at night, and, to preserve our bedding,
we had provided ourselves with “Willesden sheets.” These are made
of canvas coated with a preparation of arsenic, which the white ants
avoid. The sheets were always spread under our beds when we camped,
and if anything that was to the taste of the ants slid beyond the
edge in the dark, destruction awaited it.

I formed the opinion that the white ants have rendered
valuable service to Egypt by amassing the fertile mud which is
carried down to the Nile Delta, and venture to put forward the
following considerations in support of the theory. On entering the
Abyssinian borderland, one cannot help remarking the structure of
the ground. Our track lay generally along watercourses, and the
beds of dry mountain torrents. Here the soil was composed of sand,
shingle, and pebbles. On either bank, and for some distance beyond,
lay an expanse of basaltic stone, on which little earth was to be
seen. Grass grew there, but by no means so abundantly as in the
plains, and there were climbing plants, such as convolvulus, and
ivy, which clung to nearly every tree. These creepers made the path
extremely difficult to follow. Further away from the watercourses
lesser vegetation and longer grass appeared. The white ants’ nests,
from nine to twelve feet in height, were found here, usually close
to a soft wooded tree. The roots of it, in most cases, had been
attacked by the insects, and converted into “white ant earth.”
The trunk afterwards undergoes the same process, and by the advent
of the rainy season only the outlying twigs remain intact. A heavy
gust of wind will then overthrow the _simulacrum_ of a tree. The rain
falls in torrents, and the compost which the insects have made of
the timber is broken up and carried by innumerable channels into the
tributaries of the Atbara, and finally reaches the main stream. It
is well known that the Atbara brings down the greatest quantity
of this mud, the Blue Nile carrying less, and the White Nile, the
most sluggish stream of the three, least. The two more rapid rivers
rise in Abyssinia, in regions where the white ant is extremely
destructive to vegetation. Moreover, the innumerable ant-heaps[31]
are made entirely of earth, which crumbles under the rains, and is
swept into the watercourses in the season of floods. And in the dry
months the ants—besides devouring straw and the bark of living
trees[32]—eat into every branch and twig that the past storms
have brought to the ground. Carrying earth into their excavations,
they hollow the wood, as in the case of the soft standing timber
which they attack, and leave just the outer covering intact. I
have often stooped to pick up a stick for the cook’s fire, and
found that my fingers broke a thin shell of bark, and scattered the
contents. Another circumstance which seemed worthy of remark was
that we found no deposit of “Nile mud” within the Abyssinian
boundary, nor any earth resembling it; so one may conclude that, as
soon as the Atbara, when in flood, reaches the level of the Soudan,
it spreads a deposit of this fertile soil beside its banks, though
the great mass is carried into the Nile. According to this view,
the fertility of the alluvial districts of Lower Egypt is in no
slight measure due to _detritus_ from Abyssinia, and the white ants
have contributed an important share to the resources of the Nile
valley. Of course, I do not for an instant contend that all the
mud deposited by the river in Egypt is supplied by the white ants,
but I believe that the wonderful productive property of the alluvial
deposits is due to the work of these insects in the western borderland
of Abyssinia. Therefore, in my belief, the white ant has justified its
existence, though its room is undeniably preferable to its company.

On January 3 I saw a buffalo, tried to stalk it, and lost it. While
I was on the way to rejoin our party, a water-buck sprang up within
range—and so startled me, that he got away before I took an aim.

That day we marched seven hours, and covered twenty miles. Our
camping-place was in the rocky course which a torrent follows in
the rainy season. There were pools in it, and we had an abundance
of clear water.

The aneroid barometer showed that we were now three thousand
feet above the sea, and the air was chill as soon as the sun went
down. It was the first day on which we had reached any considerable
height. At this altitude bamboos form the prominent and characteristic
vegetation.

On January 4 we continued our ascent. The narrow path followed a
zig-zag course up a steep mountain-side. The track was full of loose
stones, and we constantly had to “negotiate” boulders and big
rocks or scramble through cramped passes. In these the larger loads
stuck, and it will be readily inferred that we made slow progress. I
heard of no other practicable route through this region, and believe
that it would be well-nigh impossible to carry heavy baggage this way.

We reached the summit at last, and saw in front of us, in the
distance, the plateau in which Lake Tsana lies. We were almost on
a level with it. Far away, many mountains rose in view, clearly
outlined, and showing light and shade in a soft and lovely purplish
blue colour. There was no glacial cap upon these high peaks, though
it is probable that the loftiest points in Abyssinia are within the
line of perpetual snow.[33]

One of our escort of Habashes from the Arab Battalion pointed eagerly
to the high lands opposite, and said to a Soudanese boy who was
standing near, “Look at my beautiful country!” The soldier’s
manner showed all the zest of a schoolboy returning home for the
holidays. The answer was, “Call this a country! Where are the
people?” Our men from Upper Egypt were puzzled and disdainful. They
had travelled eighty-six miles in Abyssinia and had not seen a
dwelling or a sign of cultivation.

A deep ravine lay below us, and we descended through it and entered a
great gorge which opened out as we advanced. We were on rocky ground,
covered with a layer of earth and loose stones. Our track wound
through dense groves of bamboos, and we had to perform gymnastics on
muleback to avoid a whipping from the canes. In this uncomfortable
covert we passed a party of traders taking coffee to Gallabat. They
had with them about sixty loads.

Presently our convoy, which in extended order covered nearly a mile
and a half, debouched upon the valley of the river Geerar.[34] The
bed, which is of bare rock, was dry when we passed through it. I
saw here many basins neatly excavated in a curious fashion. They
varied in size, but at the bottom of each was a stone. Evidently,
this had first been lodged during the time of flood in some small
hollow in the water-course. There, being constantly driven round
by the eddying water, it had worn a deeper and deeper hole, at the
bottom of which it rested in the dry season. We followed the course
of the river up stream for about five miles.

The valleys on either side are sharply cut ravines in the
mountain-sides. They were covered with grass at that period of
the year.

We lunched in the shade of the river bank, and afterwards visited
some hot springs which were near at hand. The first was a runnel of
clear water guided from its source in the rock to a pool by a wooden
gutter. I put my hand under this, and judged that the temperature
was well over 150° F. At a little distance we found another spring
which, welling from the ground, filled a basin about forty feet in
circumference and one foot deep. Here, too, the temperature of the
water was high, but not so high as to prevent bathing, and a roof of
thatch had been built over the pool. We saw several Habashes, men,
women, and children, who inhabited some rough, small thatched huts
which had been put up close by. Some were old dwellings, some newly
constructed. I could not ascertain whether these people resorted to
the springs for a “cure” or merely formed a settlement established
by keepers in charge of the place. Apparently all belonged to one
family. I visited their camping-ground, but when I approached the
women and children bolted into one of the huts. Perhaps they had
not seen a European before and did not consider the first example
prepossessing; or they may still have supposed—as most Abyssinians
at one time did—that all persons who came from that continent
were Turks. In the latter case I excuse their timidity. They watched
me through the thatched walls of the hovel just as a rat sometimes
watches a suspect from the entrance of its hole.

The water, as far as I could judge, was pure. It was tasteless,
and very “soft,” as I found by using it in my bath. No steam
was visible at the springs, though before I left them—about four
in the afternoon—the air was becoming cool. Some large trees grew
near the pool, and I saw a big and fine monkey with a shaggy face
and a growth of fluffy white hair on its tail leaping and squatting
among the boughs.

There are many hot springs in Abyssinia, and they are highly
valued by the natives for the medicinal qualities attributed to
them. Probably in some places the virtue of the waters is real,
in others merely reputed.

The most frequented baths are at Wansage on the River Gumara,
which flows into Lake Tsana. Dr. Stecker visited the spot in 1881,
and wrote the following brief account of it,[35] which throws a
light on Abyssinian social customs: “The hot spring issues from
the left bank of the river and rises to a height of two or three
metres from the ground. It fills a basin constructed by King Theodore
with water of a temperature of 37° C. A hut has been built over the
basin”—as at the spring which I saw—“and the Abyssinians who
are trying the ‘cure’ here sport in the water all day long. In
arrangements these baths resemble Ostend and Trouville in miniature,
seeing that women and men, youths and girls, spend their time in
the bath in lively promiscuity and keep up an intercourse that
is not always decorous. Quarrels often arise among the ‘cure’
patients, especially when some one has used the baths longer than
is permitted to him. Thus from early till late one hears the loud
tones of the brawlers and the lamentations of women and children,
who often come in for a beating on these occasions.”

On January 5 our road lay at first beside the River Geerar, which is
the main source of the Rahad. Presently it diverged from the bank,
and the track, which lay over stiff hills, became worse. At some
points the donkeys could not pass, and we had to lift them bodily,
loads and all, over obstructions, or push them past the rocks between
which their loads were jammed. Once the animal that was carrying
Dupuis’ valise and Gladstone bag, half slipped into a steep ravine
with water at the bottom, forty feet below. In another place I saw an
unlucky little beast turn two complete somersaults while it tried to
scramble down a sloping ledge of rock. To my horror I caught sight
of my medical bag on the top of its burden. I rushed up, and helped
to unload the donkey, which seemed none the worse for the fall,
and, to my astonishment and relief, I found all my doctor’s gear
intact. Even the tabloid bottles, with a precious stock of quinine
and phenacetine in them, had escaped by a miracle.

In crossing and recrossing the river-bed I was able to note the height
to which the floods rise in the water-courses. I saw that flotsam,
such as wisps of straw and bits of wood, had been lodged in branches
and twigs at least twelve feet above the bed of the stream, and this,
in the upper reaches among the hills, has a width of twenty-five to
thirty feet on an average.

We camped at the foot of the mountain-side which would give us our
final climb to the lake-plateau. Johannes pointed out the route to
me, and I thought that one would have as much chance of shoving a
donkey up the Great Pyramid as up that sheer precipice.

Some Habashes came to us at the camping-ground, bringing a cow, a
chicken and ten eggs. They told us, through Johannes, that the cow
was “a present,” and he said that it was worth ten dollars.[36]
We decided to offer a “present” of fifteen dollars in return,
and counted out the money. To our astonishment, the Habashes marched
the cow off, saying that they would not accept the gift. We picked
up our coins, feeling rather small. But money is “a good soldier
and will on,” as Falstaff had found. In an hour the animal was
brought back, and the “presents” were duly exchanged. Then there
was a wrangle among our Mohammedans as to the ceremonial proper to
be observed in slaying the unlucky cow; for some of the boys were
of one sect, some of another. The question was settled after much
haggling, and they held high festival and ate meat late into the
night. A few choice cuts had been reserved for ourselves, but the
bulk of the carcase was handed over to our followers, and they left
only niggardly fare for the vultures next morning.

[Illustration: RAIN COUNTRY.

_See p._ 64.]

A very good impression of the character of the country through which
we had been marching is given by Mr. Dufton’s short description of
it. “The road was very uneven, now ascending a steep mountain-side,
now descending into a deep valley. The country was magnificent, far
surpassing anything I had previously seen. The high mountains of the
Scotch highlands, covered with the fertility of the Rhineland, would
best represent it, but the vegetation was of a nature quite different
from that of the Rhine, characterized as it was by the luxuriance of
the tropics. Once the road skirted the side of a mountain the summit
of which, raised one thousand feet above our heads, looked down into
a deep valley another thousand feet below our feet. On the opposite
side of the valley the land rose to a similarly steep eminence, which,
in one part, was connected with that on which we stood by a low chain
of undulating ground, so that a pretty little stream at the bottom,
like a silver thread in the dark shadow of the mountains, wound about
searching for its channel. Fruitful fields hung over it thick at every
curve. The hills, of secondary formation, were broken here and there
into rocky chasms, through which leaped innumerable falls of water
in their downward course to join the stream; and here I saw for the
first time the beautiful Euphorbia called the Kolquol, whose dark,
candelabra-shaped branches, tipped with bright orange-red flowers,
stood out in deep relief from the lighter ground. Bright flowers
of every variety, most of which were unknown to me, but amongst
others the familiar wild rose, the honeysuckle and the jessamine,
lent their beauty and fragrance to the scene.”[37]

The knotted sapling which I photographed in the course of this
day’s journey (January 5) has an historical interest which tempts
me to moralize on the variability of human fortunes and the happy
tranquillity of vegetable life. The tree had been growing in this
distorted form since the time of the battle of Gallabat, which was
fought between the Dervishes and the Abyssinians in 1889. I have
alluded elsewhere to the singular vicissitudes of the fight.[38]
The Dervishes, in light order, pursued their foes as far as the lake
district, a circumstance which shows that raids are possible even in
this difficult country. The Mahdi’s men, like our own War Office
on a more recent occasion, had extremely little geographical or
topographical information. So the advance party twisted the saplings
to mark the route for those who came after them, and to guide the
force on its return journey to the Soudan. The trees are the only
remaining memorial of the Dervish raid.

[Illustration: THE KNOTTED SAPLING NOW BECOME A TREE.

_See p._ 66.]

In this region I saw very few birds. But on the night of the 4th,
while I was getting ready for bed, I heard one whose notes ascended
through a perfect chromatic scale. My friend Dupuis told me that these
songsters are common in India, where they are called “brain-fever
birds.” Whether he spoke as a humourist or a genuine informant,
I cannot say. In the Soudan I had often heard a bird whose notes
reversed the process and _descended_ the chromatic scale very
perfectly. I omitted to suggest to my companion that he should import
some of this species to India and try its performance as a remedy
for brain fever.

On the morning of January 6, we started to climb to the plateau
in which Lake Tsana lies. The ascent commenced immediately. The
narrow track was extremely steep, and, as on the previous day, our
path was full of loose stones and led us over great rocks that crop
out of the mountain-side. The donkeys were constantly slipping and
falling. Some came to a standstill, and refused to budge. We had
to shove the animals by main force over boulders and up slippery
ledges of rock, and at places not a few of them were raised bodily,
loads and all, by means of their tails and forelegs, and lifted over
obstacles. At this rate of ascending we covered two miles in three
hours and a half, and still had a climb of another couple of miles
ahead of us. Then the character of the track changed, and we travelled
round a horseshoe-shaped chasm, following a path four feet wide,
with a sheer precipice four hundred feet deep below us and another
rising to the same height above our heads. It was a fine sight, and
there is a lovely growth of cactus on the mountain side. Besides,
we looked out upon a vast expanse of beautiful scenery, but I felt
uncomfortably like the ungodly of whom the psalmist said that they
were set in slippery places with a great risk of being cast down and
destroyed. “Oh, how suddenly do they consume; perish and come to
a fearful end!”[39] It was an inopportune moment to recall the text.

We reached the plateau at last, after another stiff climb upward
from the chasm. I need hardly say that the donkeys were utterly
fagged out. We had left the mimosas and the bamboos below us, and
Dupuis’ aneroid barometer showed that we were some six thousand
feet above sea-level. Here many species of cactus, large and small,
abounded. The soil on the plateau is rich, and the ground was thickly
covered with lush plants in blossom. I noticed, as I passed, the
familiar “red-hot poker,” the wild strawberry, moss of many hues
growing luxuriantly, the maiden-hair fern, and, on the trunk of a dead
tree, the Tonbridge fern. Many springs were bubbling from the rock,
and their courses were marked by the tenderest and brightest tints of
this wild mountain garden. I found that Dupuis, who had marched at
the head of the column, had been stopped by a couple of soldiers on
the edge of the plateau. The Abyssinian “regular” has no uniform,
but wears a dirty shama and the rest of the national costume, and
carries a rifle of an obsolete French pattern. These men were not
acting under Menelek’s orders but had been sent by the deputy of
the chief of the village, who was himself absent upon a visit to
Ras Gouksha, one of the great feudatories of Western Abyssinia. They
said that they had orders to stop the three Englishmen, and I found
that Dupuis had arranged to lunch at that spot and await developments.

Presently the “Deputy-Governor” arrived. He was barefoot, and
his shama and linen trousers showed that he was a sound observer
of Abyssinian custom in respect of cleanliness. He was escorted
by some grimy fellows with forbidding faces who carried guns. The
“Deputy” bowed low and shook hands with the three Europeans. Then
Dupuis offered him a camp-stool for a seat and talked to him, Johannes
interpreting. Menelek’s letter, giving us the right to pass freely
through any part of his realm and calling on his lieges to assist
us, was read, but to our consternation the “Deputy” refused to
let us go down to the lake, which was eight miles distant, until
we had received permission from his Ras.[40] Three days, he said,
would elapse before this could be obtained. We gave him a drink
of green chartreuse, and then he promised that he would allot a
camping-ground to us about a quarter of a mile from Lake Tsana,
but insisted that we must not pitch our camp on the shore.

[Illustration: MESSENGER SENT TO STOP US GOING DOWN TO THE LAKE.

_See p._ 68.

In Abyssinian intercourse the raising of the shama to cover the
nose is an assertion of _superiority_ by the person who so acts; to
raise the shama to cover the mouth implies a claim to _equality_. To
lower it to the waist is a sign of extreme deference; strictly,
it implies servitude.]

After the palaver he remained to watch us. A skin had been spread
for him under a tree a few yards distant from us, and he lounged
on this, staring at us when we were near, and following all our
movements as closely as he could without giving himself trouble. Long
grass grew around our camp, and I noticed some tamarind trees. We
strolled among these surroundings with our guns and shot a few wild
pigeons for dinner. Great numbers of these birds are seen on the
high ground. Then, _more anglicano_, we had afternoon tea.

After sunset the air was very keen, and we put on our thickest
clothes. The variation between the heat of the day and the cold at
night is extreme on the plateau, and of course it is sharply felt. We
turned in early and slept in the open. Our guard lay around us;
for we were in strange company. Besides the “Deputy,” who might
be calculating whether it would pay him better to see what present
we should offer and avoid the risk of complications, or to cut our
throats as quietly as possible and loot the camp, we had as near
neighbours a party of Abyssinian traders on their way to Gallabat
with coffee. They had bivouacked under a tree close by. They might
or might not be disposed to share in the pillaging, if any took
place. In the land of the Negus it is well to remember that “no
one is expected to feel ashamed of any crime or vice; and whereas in
other countries men in committing serious crimes are morbidly excited,
in Abyssinia they are perpetrated with indifference, and generally
recounted, sometimes by the individual himself, certainly by others,
with gaiety and laughter. . . . Theft is in many provinces regarded
as an honourable employment; highway robbery is quite excusable,
even if accompanied by homicide.”[41]

After all, we slept as peacefully as if we had been in Anerley
or Tooting. On the morning of January 8, we rose when the sun had
warmed the air, and ignored the presence of our dirty warder, who
still kept us under observation. While we were breakfasting I saw a
white umbrella approaching through the long grass, and shortly the
priest of the village hard by came in view. Neither the hamlet nor its
church was visible from our camp. This divine did not wear a turban,
which is the emblem of priestly rank in Abyssinia, but had on his
head the old straw lining of a tarboush. His other visible garment
consisted of a length of yellow and plum-coloured chintz. He carried
a staff surmounted by a cross of filigreed iron. One attendant held
over him the white umbrella, which had a blue lining, another bore
before him an open book, on one page of which appeared a picture—the
quaintly stiff and gaudy depiction of saints and sacred persons which
is an unvarying convention of Abyssinian art—and on the other page
I saw manuscript in the Amharic or Geez character.

The “Deputy” approached the priest, bowed, and kissed the book,
and some of his retainers followed his example. Then Johannes
explained to us that it was customary for travellers to make an
offering to the church of this village, which is on the boundary
of inhabited Abyssinia. Dupuis asked what the usual oblation was,
and the “spiritual pastor” had the effrontery to reply, through
Johannes, that it was ten dollars. Upon this Dupuis remarked that we
had been very badly received and were dissatisfied with our welcome,
that hindrances had been put in our way in spite of the terms of
the king’s letter, and that he should give no alms to any one.

This declaration disconcerted both the priest and the “Deputy.”
The former departed without further parley. The latter continued to
follow us and spy upon us. Dupuis and Crawley decided to disregard his
prohibition and advance. They moved in front of the column, and took
with them Johannes, his two attendants, and eight soldiers. I brought
up the rear with a couple of mounted men for escort. My progress was
not interrupted, and gradually Lake Tsana came clearly into view. I
found, when I rejoined my companions at the camping-ground which they
had chosen on the shore, that the “Deputy” had made an attempt
to stop them when they were about five miles from the spot. He had
given them to understand that they might see the lake, but must not go
down to the water’s edge. Dupuis replied that he should regard no
such order, and marched ahead. Upon this the “Deputy” shrugged
his shoulders, and forthwith took his leave, saying that he must
then return to his house, but that he would visit us in the evening,
and supposed he would find us on the shore of the lake, as we were
resolved to proceed thither. He had an answer in the affirmative,
and departed, to the relief of the whole party.




                              CHAPTER VI


Lake Tsana lay before me as a vast expanse of blue water stretching
to the horizon. The shore here, near the village of Delgi at the
north of the lake,[42] is in places sandy, in others covered with
grass. At some points one can walk to the edge of the clear water,
at others the shelving bank leads, by a scarcely perceptible incline,
to stretches of reed-grown, swampy ground. I saw no water-weed upon
the surface.

The lake lies at an altitude of 1942 metres (6372 feet) above
the sea-level. Its length from the mouth of the Magetsch to the
outlet of the Blue Nile is approximately forty-five miles, and its
breadth on the twelfth parallel of longitude is about thirty-seven
miles. The map published in this volume is mainly reproduced from that
prepared by Dr. Stecker for the African Association of Germany. How
painstaking he was in collecting information may be inferred from
the fact that during his excursions in the native boats he took three
hundred soundings—an example of patient research which those will
best appreciate who have seen a “boat” of the kind. Dr. Stecker
gave the following results of his survey:—“Lake Tsana covers a
superficial area of 2980 square kilometres. All the islands together
possess a superficial area of about fifty square kilometres, of which
forty are included in Dek, and four in Dega. I found the greatest
depth between the island of Dega and Zegi, viz. seventy-two metres,
while the deepest sounding between Korata and Zegi was sixty-seven
metres. Between Dek and Adina the depth ranged between thirty-two
and forty-seven metres. But I am fully convinced that the deepest
places—in my opinion having a much greater depth than one hundred
metres—are to be found north of Dek in the direction of Dega and
Gorgora. One cannot, however, well venture to make an excursion to
those parts in the fragile Abyssinian craft.”[43]

This beautiful lake is everywhere girt by mountains, and in some
places they rise directly from its shore. As a consequence it is
exposed to sudden gusts and squalls that sweep down the valleys
and ravines, and these would make navigation risky for small
sailing boats. Hippopotami swarm in the waters. The Abyssinians
hereabouts—Christians and Mussulmans alike—regard their flesh
as unclean; but the hippos do not “lead a very snug life,” as
Dr. Stecker supposed. They are constantly harassed by the natives,
who shoot them for the sake of their hides. From these are made the
whips called _coorbatch_, which are in general demand and are much
valued. Plowden wrote that “the crocodile, that is found in most
of the large rivers of Abyssinia, does not infest this lake.”[44]
So far as my personal observation goes, he was right. But, knowing
the enterprising character of the Blue Nile crocodile, I should
think it wise to verify the statement, while on the spot, by careful
observation.[45]

I did not hear of the “Deputy’s” peaceful departure immediately
on arriving at the lakeside, for neither of my comrades was in
view. After a few minutes I saw one strolling towards me carrying
a wild goose, which he had just shot with a rifle, and then the
other appeared, coming from the opposite direction, with a brace
of wild duck. It was clear that the lake country was well stocked,
and that the expedition would fare sumptuously if it were not cut up.

All our tents were pitched by eleven o’clock, and we began to think
of lunch. A man looks forward cheerfully to his meals in the fine
mountain air. But on that morning anxiety about the future harassed
our minds. However, I had no leisure to make forecasts, for I had
to attend to one of our soldiers who had fever, and one of our boys
who had dysentery, and then I found that I was appointed honorary
surgeon to the neighbourhood, and that a patient was waiting. He was
an old man, who had a large abscess in the sole of his foot, and had
endured the affliction for more than a week. I operated, while his
friends looked on. There was no superfluity of medical stores, and
it seemed fair to make “the case” supply his own bandage. This,
when produced, proved to be a piece of dirty shirting. It served,
over sublimate wool, and the patient was very grateful and thanked
me profusely.

Parkyns made some striking and interesting observations about the
insensibility to pain displayed by the Abyssinians and the African
races of all kinds.[46] He said, “I have never noticed in Africa any
education for the purpose of rendering men patient under suffering,”
and he attributed the power of endurance to the hardening effect
of a rough, primitive life. How far this is the cause and how
far the advantage may be due to a somewhat lower form of nervous
organization than that developed in Europeans I will not attempt
to determine. But surprising as are the facts related by Parkyns,
I do not doubt that he has described them without exaggeration,
and my own experience showed that the Habashes stood pain well,
though I observed no inclination towards heroism among them.

When I had finished the public demonstration in surgery, I noticed
a small throng of people around Dupuis’s tent. Their faces
displayed their satisfaction, and I joined the group to learn what
had happened. Then I heard that the true representative of Ras Gouksha
had arrived, and that the “Deputy” was a fraud. The envoy who had
now come into our camp had expected us to reach the lake by another
track, and had taken his post to await us. This man greeted us with
a most civil welcome, gave us teff,[47] eggs, milk, fowls—in fact,
all the supplies which we chiefly needed—and offered to accompany
us round the lake and see that we were everywhere treated with
courtesy. He seemed a smart and “likely” fellow, and any one
may imagine our delight in the prompt exposure of the “Deputy”
and the dramatic change for the better in our situation. We gave our
new friend a stiff drink of green chartreuse, which he swallowed at
one gulp. Then he went off to collect further supplies for us.

A little later the “Deputy” returned to exculpate himself. He
grovelled on the ground, imploring forgiveness. He had brought a sheep
as a peace-offering, and when we had added this to our belongings,
we graciously pardoned him. Upon hearing that he was absolved from his
guilt, he stooped down and kissed a stone close to Dupuis’s feet.

We had had enough parley for the day, so Dupuis and I started
upon an explorers’ tramp, carrying our guns. We walked about two
miles in a north-westerly direction, and saw innumerable kinds of
water-fowl along the margin of the lake. The birds were scarcely
shy of us at all, and we approached within ten yards of wild geese
before they rose. I noticed among the mass a species of goose like
a big Muscovy duck, with dark green plumage and white feathers in
the wings, plovers of all sorts, herons, pelicans, snake-birds, and
the ibis in numbers. We shot none, for we had meat enough in store,
and it would have been sheer slaughter to do so. I did, indeed, try
my luck with some quail that took to the wing, but no harm came to
them, and I was not sorry.

We returned to the village. It was pleasant to see kine again after
the long march through the deserted border-country. They are here of
the long-horned, hump-backed “Zebu” kind common throughout Africa
and the East.[48] My friend Crawley had taken a rod and line to the
edge of the lake. He landed a fish about 2 lb. weight, of the perch
tribe. So we had a very complete _menu_. The cold was keen after
sundown, but we had a cheery finish to our first day by the lake,
after all. And it would hardly be possible to look upon a more lovely
scene than that which we saw from our camp when the moon had risen.

We were not astir very early in the morning of January 8, and
dawdled over breakfast until half-past seven; it is almost worth
while to live a strenuous life at times in order to enjoy dawdling
afterwards. Dupuis and Crawley set out with an assortment of gear to
make a survey, and I amused myself with a butterfly-net and a camera.

Then I inspected my patients. Several came into camp from the
neighbourhood, as I had expected. The old man with the abscess
presented himself, and I found that the injured foot was healing
well. He thanked me again very profusely, and I believe that after
this second visit he departed to the village whence he came with
a good opinion of European surgery. Another Habash found me less
satisfactory as a physician. He had come to ask what medicine he
could take to cure the headache caused by _tedj_. Now, _tedj_ is the
beer, or mead, of the country; it is made from fermented barley,
and flavoured with honey diluted in the proportion of one part to
three parts of water. It is a very heady—and, to Europeans, a
most nasty—drink, and the Abyssinians consume enormous quantities
of it. Parkyns was told of a man who was said to have swallowed
twenty-six pints at a sitting, on the occasion of a wedding-feast
at which the English traveller was present. But he regarded this
statement as “a stretcher.”[49] I told the inquirer that the
one and only prescription was not to drink _tedj_, and thereupon
the little audience of his fellow-countrymen enjoyed a laugh at
his expense.[50]

[Illustration: HOUSES AT DELGI.

_See p._ 79.]

[Illustration: WASHING OUT ‘TEDJ’ POTS AT DELGI.

_See p._ 79.]

I was glad to see that the servants set to work to wash their clothes
with soap in the lake. The cleansing was needed. Soon the tents in
our camp were draped with garments enough to occupy the wash-lines
of a whole suburb. The lake had a pleasant temperature for bathing,
and the men stayed in the water till their clothes were dry.

On this morning we had a visit of ceremony from another priest,
whose umbrella was of many colours. His attendants were a boy
dressed in plum-coloured chintz with a yellow scroll-pattern on it,
another boy, who was naked, and carried a bell which he tinkled
incessantly, and three Abyssinian students. These learn to read
and write the Gheez language, and I think the Bible is the only
book which they study. They are lads from the villages who are
“candidates for orders,” and the theological classes are held
in the church-porches. I secured two satisfactory snap-shots of the
priest. He received an oblation of five dollars with an absolutely
impassive face, and then left us in doubt whether he was secretly
gratified by the amount of the offering or inwardly disgusted by it.

Dupuis and Crawley resumed their survey work in the afternoon, and
I strolled away from camp with my gun and brought down a lesser
bustard, of the size of a turkey. I also shot a brace of quail,
but lost them in the long grass. Altogether it was a quiet day. The
climate was now very pleasant, neither too hot at noon nor too cold
at night. In the early morning there was a dead calm. After this a
little breeze came down from the north-west, and the wind remained in
that quarter till the afternoon. At four o’clock it shifted right
round to the south-east, and blew pretty stiffly about seven. We
always saw lightning in the evening. It seemed to play over the lake.

On the morning of the 9th Dupuis and I got our Berthon collapsible
boat ready. This had caused us much trouble on the upward march,
as it is awkwardly shaped for donkey-transport. We took our guns
and angling tackle, and paddled about three miles westward. Then we
landed on a sandy beach, left two of our boys in charge of the boat,
and went in search of game, taking one man with us. We had not walked
far when we sighted a covey of guinea-fowl. We got ahead of them,
and were trying to drive them towards the water when about forty
rose in all directions, and we could not reload fast enough. Several
were lost in the thick grass, chiefly owing to the boy’s stupidity;
he could not make up his mind which bird to pounce upon first. As we
were returning to the beach by the way we had come, Dupuis put up a
brace of partridges and shot them. They must have “sat tight”
all through the fusillade, and only rose when my companion nearly
walked them down. We carried about ten head back to the boat.

When we came to the shore we found our two men in a state of great
excitement. As soon as the guns were fired a hippopotamus that had
been asleep about ten yards from them sprang up, and rushed into
the water, snorting. The beast had nearly frightened them out of
their wits. Looking at the path I had followed after landing I
saw that I must have passed within a yard of the place where the
hippo lay. The men now drew my attention to something in a tree,
but I could not discern at first what they were pointing out. After
peering for three or four minutes I saw a pair of gleaming eyes above
a branch in the deep shade. I fired with number four shot—the only
size I had—at a distance of about ten yards, and down came a civet
cat. It was hit in the head and dead, when I picked it up.

We tried our luck with the fish while the men paddled us back to
camp, but caught nothing. I set about preserving the skin of the
cat after lunch, rubbed some arsenical soap well in, and packed the
hide in an empty cigarette tin. It was brought to England in good
condition. While I was busy in this way, my comrades were taking
soundings of the lake from the boat. Later we went out together with
our guns, and added two bustards, three partridges, and a quail to
the stock in the larder.

During the day, whenever I was in camp, I was importuned by patients;
many had trivial ailments, and others troubles, such as chronic
ophthalmia, which I certainly could not cure during a three days’
sojourn at Delgi. If they judged that I was not sufficiently moved by
the account which they gave at first of their malady, they described
what they suffered from another, and a fictitious one. Thus, if I
told a man who had chronic ophthalmia that I could not help him,
he would remain to declare that he was consumptive, or that his
feet needed treatment. They became so tiresome at last that I was
thankful for the prospect of resuming the march next day. It seems
to be taken for granted in all countries that a doctor ought to be
more long-suffering than any other person.

On the morning of the 10th I received, by Abyssinian post, a letter
which had been despatched from Port Said on November 25, the day on
which I left Cairo. It reached me by a roundabout road; for it had
been to Wady Halfa, Berber, Kassala, Sennaar, and Gallabat. I was
surprised that it came to hand. The postman was a Soudanese black,
and, when we met him, he was on the return journey to Gallabat
bearing some official communication. These couriers carry before
them—like a wand of office—a long cane, which is split at the
top. The “mail” is inserted in the orifice. The cane is a badge
that is respected, and I was told that the letter-carriers are never
stopped. They amble along at a steady jog-trot, and cover a great
deal of ground in a day.

We made a short journey of about ten miles to the eastward after
leaving Delgi. Our road kept us some little distance from the
northern shore of the lake, and took us through long jungle grass,
so tall that we could not see over it, and so thick that there was
no possibility of using a gun in it. We camped on a spot where this
grass had been beaten down, and spent the afternoon reading. There
were no mosquitoes, but the flies swarmed into our tents, and we
sympathized with Pharaoh and the Egyptians.

Several of the boys from the Soudanese lowlands had a touch of fever
on this high ground. Three were on my hands that day. Quinine was a
quick and sure remedy for them. I think that they were affected by
the great change of temperature between midday and nightfall much
more than Europeans.

The morning of Sunday, January 11, was very cold, and the thermometer
stood at 31° F. just before sunrise. I noticed that it always rose
to a point above 80° about noon, and these figures will give an idea
of the effect of the variations. The servants were shivering when
they served our breakfast, but at half-past seven we took off our
overcoats, and when we started at a quarter-past eight the day was
warm. Our road lay through tall grass, and took us over undulating
country, and then up a long, gradually rising slope to Tschenkar,
where we arrived at one o’clock. This was by far the largest
village that we had yet seen in Abyssinia.

Tschenkar is four miles distant from the lake. As we travelled we
had skirted the base of the promontory called Gorgora, which lay
on our right hand. This is very lofty ground. Stecker ascended to
the highest point of it, the summit of the mountain called Goraf. He
found by barometrical measurement that this was 2134 metres above the
level of the sea, and recorded the following interesting observations:
“This excursion yielded very important results in relation to the
geological formation of the mountain chain. I found on the high
ground extensive remains of a great stream of lava which I could
trace down to Lake Tsana. There were craters half filled up and
very considerable volcanic cumuli. The upper strata of the mountains
consist of crystalline schist, but the lower are composed of the same
sandstone formation in which tertiary coal deposits were discovered
at Tschelga.”[51]

In an interview reported in the _Egyptian Gazette_, Mr. William
MacMillan spoke disparagingly, as it seems to me, of the resources
of the country.[52] I dissent completely from the opinion that
Abyssinia has little to offer to commercial enterprise. Its
potential wealth is enormous, and if difficulties of transit could be
overcome—which means, in this connection, if the Blue Nile could be
made navigable—I believe that a vast and most lucrative development
of commerce and industry would follow. As the question appears to
me to be of great importance, and as I think that Mr. MacMillan’s
words may spread a quite erroneous impression, I hope the reader
will forgive me for bringing forward the following evidence.

Consul Plowden reported in his “General Survey of Abyssinia,”
1852-53: “Gold and copper exist, and iron is found in great
abundance; plains of sulphur and various salts, in the province now
occupied by the Taltals, supply all Abyssinia with those commodities:
and other wealth may lie hid in that volcanic tract. A search for
coal would, elsewhere, be probably successful.”[53]

Dufton visited the district of Tschelga with M. Lejean, the French
Consul, who was then taking gifts from the Emperor Napoleon III. to
King Theodore. M. Lejean found, when he attempted to make observations
in this neighbourhood, that “the ferruginous nature of the rocks
destroyed the determinative power of his delicate compass, sometimes,
when placed on the ground to a matter of 90 degrees. The presence
of iron was further evidenced by the slimy yellow deposits of oxide
which some of the mountain rivulets make in their course. Beds of an
inferior coal we also found in the plain of Tschelga, laid bare by a
small stream which had dug for itself a passage of some forty feet
deep. The fact of the presence of coal, not only here but also in
many other parts of Abyssinia, seems to point to sources of wealth
possessed by this country, which only an enlightened government is
required to open out.”[54]

Mr. Vivian considers that the “one insuperable objection” to
industrial enterprise in Abyssinia is “the monstrous craft and
subtlety of the Abyssinian.” He wrote, “You or I might spend
ourselves and our treasures in discovering coal, or copper, or iron,
or gold, or emeralds; we might call new industries into being and
establish an era of prosperity; but the Abyssinians would take all
the profit, and we should be left out in the cold.”[55]

It seems to me, if one may say so without flippancy, that the
introduction of a few mineowners from the Rand would soon show the
Abyssinian that he is “a child in these matters.” A fertile
country with an enormous range of climate, capable of well-nigh
infinite variety of production, well watered, well wooded, and
endowed with gold, iron, and coal is something more than a small
mart for American shirtings and Russian oil.

To return to Tschenkar. The soil in this region is very rich, and
there is a considerable cultivation of durrha and other grain and of
chillies for cayenne pepper. This is the condiment universally used in
Abyssinia. It is cooked with or added to every dish, and the natives,
including the children, eat it in quantities which scorch the most
hardened European gullet. When it is remembered that the Habashes
usually eat their meat raw, not even rejecting uncleansed tripe,[56]
and that they are constantly passing from fasts which they observe
with superstitious rigour[57] to an excess of gluttony, that they
are immoral from their early years,[58] and that drunkenness is an
uncensured habit even among the priests, it is surprising that the
race has retained its vigour. I am, however, bound to say that the
Abyssinian is, normally, hardy and cheery. No doubt the weakly die
in infancy or childhood, and the development of those who survive
is greatly helped by the fine air in the upland country.

I made inquiry of our interpreter Johannes as to the system of land
tenure here, and was interested to learn that the “Lord of the
Manor” leased ground to tenants on the _métayage_ system. He
himself paid tithe in kind to the Ras. I fancy the landowner takes
the lion’s share of the crops; and the peasantry are heavily
mulcted by the priests and scribes. In addition, it is the rule
that all guests of the Ras, when travelling within his fief, must
be supplied with food by every village at which they halt. So the
farmers have to thrive on what is left.

We were, officially, guests of the Ras. In consequence we found
that gifts of _teff_, and poultry, and eggs were brought in without
stint. All are cheap commodities in Abyssinia. Augustus Wylde
calculated that at Bohoro in the Yejju province, when he was there,
fowls were selling at a rate which would have given eight hundred
and eighty for the pound sterling, and that the same sum would have
purchased eight thousand eight hundred eggs.[59] The eggs presented to
us were nearly all bad, a fact which might be due to a misapprehension
about European taste or to a feeling that waste articles might fairly
be got rid of as unrequited tribute. The fowls made good eating,
but they are very small birds. I do not think the Habashes, at the
end of the reckoning, had much reason to regret our presence.

In the evening we received a visit from the priest, a pleasant,
fine-looking old man. He wore the turban of his class. We promised
to see him at his church early on the following morning and present
an offering.

The dry grass had been fired in places around the village, and the
flames showed impressively after nightfall, though their effect
was dimmed by the light of the moon, which was nearly full. We had
no reason to fear being burned out of our camp, for the stalks had
been beaten down all about into a matted mass. But clouds of smoke
and showers of blacks from a conflagration close by would have given
us more discomfort than we bargained for, and we watched the drift
of the fires in the light, varying winds with interest. Luckily,
trouble was not for us that night, and we turned in, with all the
contentment of the well-fed Briton, and slept in peace.




                              CHAPTER VII


On the morning of January 12, we fulfilled our promise to the priest
of Tschenkar and went to see the church. It has the reputation of
being an exceptionally holy place, because the Dervishes made several
attempts to burn it down when they raided the village during their
incursion after the battle of Gallabat, and their endeavour failed. I
cannot tell how the roof fared, for it was made of the ordinary thatch
used in Abyssinia when I saw it and looked very inflammable. But it
was hardly necessary to attribute the preservation of the rest of
the fabric to a miracle. In many cases the entire structure consists
of a timber framework with a covering of thatch, and I never heard
that these buildings possessed the immunity of Shadrach, Meshach,
and Abednego. But the church at Tschenkar is built in part of hard
baked mud bricks and in part of stone, and the doorways are made of
an extremely tough wood which is found in the country. This had also
furnished the beams within the building. Under these circumstances
the only marvel seems to be that the Dervishes repeated their attempt
to kindle the materials.

The church is round and stands in a circular enclosure, according to
the custom in Abyssinia. The wall of the churchyard is of stone,
and there are four entrances, facing north, south, east, and
west. Cypresses—which I did not observe in other places—were
growing in the enclosure, which, as usual, is just a small grassy
expanse. No tombstones or other monuments to the dead are seen
in it. The church also has four doors and is divided into two
parts. These do not closely correspond to nave and chancel; for the
_sanctum sanctorum_ of an Abyssinian place of worship is walled in,
and makes a third enclosure. Moreover, it does not contain an altar
but a representation of the Jewish Ark of the Covenant, which is
called a _tabot_. I shall have occasion to allude to this custom
and its origin in a later chapter.

The priest showed us round the building. The walls are decorated with
the usual extraordinary “sacred subjects,” treated in the manner
which convention strictly prescribes. St. George and the Dragon and
the Virgin Mary are almost invariably depicted, and I was fortunate
enough to obtain some clear photographs in the church at Korata,[60]
which exemplify the singular devotional art of the Habashes. At
Tschenkar there were some rude carvings of cherubim and designs
of the Virgin drawn with burnt wood on the doorways. We were not
admitted to the _sanctum sanctorum_.

Outside I obtained a photograph of the theological class, which was
composed of one teacher and four pupils. Their library consisted of
a single book. I could not, of course, decipher the text, but the
volume had the appearance of a very dirty and greasy manuscript
missal. Probably it was a copy of the Scriptures, in the Gheez
language. There was a quaint thatched belfry in a tree, which looked
like a primitive bee-hive or an old bird’s-nest.

We had ordered that the baggage donkeys should be loaded and take the
road while we were at the church. But we found that confusion always
arose if no European was present at the start, and on this occasion,
when we had spent some forty minutes with the priest, and then made
our way to the track which we were to follow, we beheld no trace of
the expedition. When the train did draw in sight we found that one
part had been separated from the other, and the two divisions were
approaching from opposite sides. It was only a slight _contretemps_,
but we lost an hour by it on a day when we had a long march before
us. Matters were righted and we moved ahead.

Dupuis and I were bringing up the rear. At half-past eleven we
found that the whole expedition had halted on the bank of the
river Magetsch, and one of the guides was insisting that we must
camp there. He seemed to have no reason for the choice except that
there was water in the stream and that the place which we purposed
to reach, called Ambo, was, in his opinion, too far off. All the
Habashes were of the same mind as the guide, but we did not take
their view, and set to work to cross the river.

Here—about a mile and a half from the lake—the current was some
twenty feet wide. It was clear and shallow, running over a shingly bed
in a ravine. We forded it without difficulty, and moved on towards
the camping-ground which we had selected. We arrived at the place
shortly after two o’clock.

Our route crossed the two effluents of the lesser Gumara River not
far below Wansage. A concise and interesting account of the geology
and botany of the river-valley at that place has been given by
Dr. Stecker.[61] This morning while we were on the road we met the
“Sultan of Delgi.” The “Sultan,” notwithstanding his title,
is a subordinate official, the tax-collector of a district. It
was this man whose “Deputy” had met us when we arrived on the
plateau and raised difficulties. We found the “Sultan” a very
affable old man. He shook hands with us, asked if matters went well
with the expedition, and if we were in need of anything. This was
the more satisfactory as he was then returning from a visit to the
feudal lord of the district, Ras Gouksha.

The village of Ambo was destroyed by the Dervishes, and had not been
rebuilt. The site of it is on a beautiful little bay of the lake,
which at one part has a sandy beach that shelves into the clear
water and at another is bordered by a thick fringe of reeds. Snipe
swarm in these. There was no cultivated ground at this spot, and no
timber or “scrub.” Tall grass was growing everywhere, and I have
no doubt that the soil is extremely fertile.

The tents were pitched, and after lunch we took out our guns to
replenish the larder. We made a bag of some half-dozen snipe, and saw
an abundance of geese—but they are not very good eating—herons,
and other large and small water-fowl. On the way back to camp we
put up a flock of crown crane and could have brought down some of
them. They are excellent at table; but it seemed a scandal to kill
such fine fellows, and we did not shoot. These are noble-looking
birds.

In the afternoon some natives passed the camp, who had shot a
tree-boa. They were carrying the skin. Without the head, which
they had cut off, the snake measured ten and a half feet. As we
had avoided camping at a village—a course by which we cheated
innumerable vermin—we had no evident claim on any hamlet for free
viands. But I found that a fowl and some eggs had been brought into
camp, and, to do the Habashes justice, I do not think they grudged
the tribute in kind which our presence exacted from them. It is a
custom of the country to offer a gift in order to receive one of
greater value in return, but the rural folk of the lake country had
no such motive—as far as I could see—in furnishing supplies.

We started on the following morning at a quarter to eight. The
temperature was then below the freezing-point, and we felt the
cold keenly. Our road lay, for some distance, through the tall
jungle grass, but when we emerged from it the scenery changed
completely. We entered a broken, mountainous district, where the
heights rise directly from the lake, and the traveller passes from
one surpassingly lovely vista to another. Many palms grow here,
and the banks and dells are covered with wild flowers—a varied,
abundant growth excelling even that which we had seen on reaching
the lake plateau. Great numbers of butterflies, large and small,
familiar and unfamiliar, some of sober hue, others brightly gorgeous,
were flitting among the blossoms. The giant hemp abounds here, and
the stems, some eighteen feet high, tower above one. At that season
the daytime and the evening were alike cloudless. The whole region
is fertile and charming.[62]

It is—for that country—thickly populated. There are many
villages, groups of scattered _tokhuls_, and as we advanced we found
these yet more numerous. They lie, perhaps, four miles apart on an
average. Cattle are seen in all. Very few cases of serious sickness
came to my notice hereabout, and the people generally seemed healthy,
as well as prosperous. I saw no money in circulation, and all trade
appears to be carried on by barter.

As we drew near to our halting-place for the night, those who were
leading our column came upon two _tokhuls_ full of Habashes. They
were about fifteen in number, and, as they carried rifles of an old
French pattern, there is very little doubt that they were soldiers. I
was in the rear, and when I passed them they were squatting on the
ground and staring at those who rode by in a manner that was evidently
meant to be grossly insulting. Moreover, they had kindled the grass
on both sides of the track, and we were obliged to trot ahead in the
midst of smoke and flames. Oddly enough, both the donkeys and mules
took the adventure quite quietly, though the fire was close enough to
singe their hair and burn their feet. The Abyssinian “regulars”
are a class apart, and are unpopular; they are mostly rapacious,
hectoring, and ill-conditioned, and are a bane to all from whom they
can levy exactions.

Our camping-ground was close to the village of Tschera, which stands
on an islet near the lake-shore. It is reached by wading through
about fifty yards of water lying over firm sand. Further out is
the pretty island of Mitraha, on which we could see houses and a
church. My companions took out the boat and their guns and brought
back a brace of duck and a green pigeon. Earlier in the day five
guinea-fowl had been added to the larder.

We sent two soldiers to buy meat for the men. They purchased five
sheep, for which they paid four dollars. This works out at a rate
of about one and sixpence per sheep, English money.

We did not intend to resume the march on the following morning, so
none of us rose before half-past six, when “the day was aired”
a little. The lowest reading of the thermometer at night had
been thirty-two degrees. After breakfast, we three Englishmen and
Johannes the interpreter started in the boat to visit Mitraha. It
is a hilly, tree-clad little island with a population consisting
of six families. The people welcomed us on our approach and guided
us through a channel between rocks to a good landing-place. They
seemed pleased to show us over the ground.[63] It is a perfectly
pretty islet, with quaint thatched cottages among foliage and a
ruinous old church, and—for historic interest—it contains the
tomb of an ancient king of Abyssinia, John by name. We visited the
sepulchre and saw the open coffin, which was full of an agglomeration
of bones. If they belonged to the dead monarch, he must have been
the boniest man that ever lived, and embarrassed, into the bargain,
by possessing two right arms. However, it was an article of belief
with everybody on the island, including the priest, that nature had
once contrived to stow all that “anatomy” into one human body.

The island is traversed in all directions by narrow tracks marked by
trodden leaves, and there is a thick undergrowth of weeds, thistles,
and thorns. In this tangle I saw numbers of large spiders’ webs,
from three to four feet in circumference. The spiders are about the
size of a shilling, with a speckled abdomen and legs of enormous
length. I saw none of this species on the mainland.

The islanders had poultry but no cattle. We asked them about their
food. They said, “We eat durrha when we can get it.”

“Don’t you eat fish?” we asked. “Surely, there are plenty
of fish in the lake.”

“_No_,” they answered emphatically. “After King Johannes was
killed by the Dervishes[64] all the fish disappeared.”

It is quite likely that these people are too idle even to cast a
net,[65] for it is notorious that fish of many kinds and of large size
abound in Lake Tsana; but, knowing how superstitious the Habashes are,
I would not vouch for it that they did not sincerely believe what
they said. Probably they have little intercourse with the mainland
and invent their own news.

They took a keen interest in our boat, and asked many questions
about it. Their own rafts, called _tankoa_, consist merely of a
bundle of papyrus reeds strung together with strips of hippopotamus
hide and stiffened by a bamboo in the centre which serves as a kind
of keelson. They do not use a sail, but punt or paddle with a pole.

When we had finished the tour of the island Dupuis presented five
dollars to the church and community and thereupon received the
ceremonial blessing of the priest.[66]

We returned to camp. During the afternoon I tried my hand at
butterfly-hunting, fly-fishing in a sluggish stream near by called
the Kumon, and shooting beside the Lake. It was all pleasant enough
sport, but I had poor luck. The butterflies that were worth catching
were always seen when we were in “marching order,” and my net
was packed up. When I cast in the Kumon my tackle mostly got foul
of the reeds and the weeds, and while tramping along the shore I
found nothing to shoot, unless it were a huge hippo who was basking
in the sun about three hundred yards out. I should have been _impar
congressus Achilli_ if we had tried conclusions, so I did nothing
to provoke enmity.

In the afternoon I was on medical duty for native patients. The first
was a poor little fellow about seven years old, who was covered from
head to foot with craw-craw, a kind of aggravated _scabies_. He was
brought to me by his father, to whom I gave half a cake of soap,
and bade him take the child to the water and wash him. I saw that
this was properly done, and then treated the boy’s skin with a
weak solution of corrosive sublimate and afterwards smeared boric
ointment over him. The father was set to wash his son’s shama with
the remainder of the soap—an office of cleanliness which had been
neglected at home in accordance with Ethiopian usage.

My other patient was a man whose upper eyelids were inverted
(entropion), as a result of ophthalmia. This malady is very common
in the country. I removed the eyelashes with a forceps and applied
ointment, but the extent of the injury was already so great that
little good was likely to come from my intervention. The Russians
maintain a Red Cross Mission at Addis Abbiba,[67] which has
established a hospital on an adequate scale. Here natives receive
treatment free of charge.[68] European medical aid is sorely needed in
the country, and I wish that it might be found practicable to support
a British medical station in Western Abyssinia. Our popularity and
prestige would be increased by this step. An opportunity would be
given for valuable observation and research, and the benefit to the
inhabitants would be incalculable.

Gifts of bread (teff), eggs, and fowls were brought into our camp in
plenty, and some liberal Habash sent us a big jar of honey, the comb
and all packed in together. It was a welcome and useful present, and
served as a luxury in lieu of jam, of which we had a short supply. The
size of the jar—it rather suggested the lurking-places of the Forty
Thieves—embarrassed us, and we did not wish to carry quantities of
honey-comb through Abyssinia. So we consulted Johannes. He told us to
heat the jar until the honey just boiled, skim off the wax and pour
the clear liquor into bottles. Fortunately we had saved empty bottles,
and we filled up all we had; but half the jar remained after that, and
had to be returned to the giver. All three of us were interested and
busy in melting the honey and straining it through a piece of mosquito
curtain, and were splendidly sticky and messy when we left off.

While we were in the kitchen-quarters, we heard a loud grunting and
snorting about twenty yards away, which made the ground tremble, and
recognized at once that a hippo was in the reeds there. This badly
frightened the cook, who slept in the tent nearest that spot. We had
to assure him solemnly that the hippo would not carry out a night
attack upon him.

We struck our camp next morning (January 15), and marched to the
River Reb. The boat was brought into service in crossing it. At
one part the stream was about four feet six inches deep, and though
this dip in the bed was only a couple of yards wide, it prevented
the baggage animals from walking through. The water was shallow
over the rest of the ford, so that they could keep their feet. All
the mules and donkeys were unloaded while we lunched. The boat was
quickly got ready and about half-past two Crawley pulled across
with his first cargo. After he had had about an hour of the work,
I took my turn. Dupuis was superintending the pitching of the tents
and the stowing of the loads on the further side of the river. Then
the fun began with bringing the baggage animals over.

There was no great difficulty with the mules. One gave a lead,
and then the rest swam across, the boys swimming beside them. But
with the donkeys it was a different matter. The men tried coaxing
them, leading them, whacking them. It was all no good. The donkeys
settled into the firm, resolute stubbornness of their kind, which
is invincible, and it seemed as if the expedition would be left in
the condition of a wasp that has been cut through the middle—the
active half in one place and the “portage and storage” half
in another. Sunset began before progress had been made, and the
air was quickly becoming colder. Finally we solved the problem by
brute force. Five fixed nooses were tied in a long rope, and five
donkeys’ heads were put in the nooses. Then we, on the further side
of the stream, hauled on to the rope. It was a “tug of war,”
and we moved the donkeys. Then one of us took the rope back in
the boat, and the next batch came over by “cable ferry.” There
was a chance that the donkeys would struggle and strangle or drown
themselves, but all were pulled across without casualties. The last
three made the journey just after six o’clock. Of course our men
had to be in the water with the beasts to steady them, and keep
them in place, and all worked with a will. Some were in the stream,
off and on, for three or four hours, and the cold was sharp when the
sun sank. Unluckily there was no wood near our camping-ground, so
they had no fire to cheer them afterwards, and could not dry their
wet clothes. The Habashes, when they cross a ford of this kind,
roll all their garments into a bundle, which they carry on their
heads while they swim or wade. We were all sorry for the mischance
which denied the boys warmth after a wetting, and we served out a
nip of green chartreuse to those who had been in the water longest.

On the next day, January 16, we had before us the business of fording
the river Gumara, and, to avoid a repetition of the trouble with
the donkeys, we determined to strike away from the lakeside, so as
to reach the stream where we could go over on foot. Dupuis found
that this route would bring him close to the Debra Tabor road, and
at once resolved to set off, on the following morning, with a light
baggage train, to pay a visit of thanks to Ras Gouksha, who was at
that place. Crawley was to accompany him, while I stayed in charge
of the camp.

It was a short march from our halting-place beside the Reb to the
ford by which we were to cross the Gumara, and we did not start till
eleven o’clock. The baggage animals were able to have a feed of
grass, and they and the boys alike were warmed by the sun before
our journey began. All needed a little rest and comfort after the
previous day’s work.

It is a plain country between the Reb and the Gumara, partly covered
at that season by tall, dry grass, and partly by swamp-grass standing
in ooze. In the wet months the whole tract is a morass.

Many Habashes assembled to see us start. They were tiresome, but
quite friendly. I was much struck by the prevalence of eye disease
among them; _trachoma_ is very common, and most of the cases which
came under my notice were beyond hope of cure. A crowd gathered
round me to gaze at my camera, which was an unknown marvel in this
land; for Western Abyssinia has seldom been visited by Europeans,
and I heard of none who had been in the district since Stecker had
passed through it more than twenty years before. Even cigarettes were
a novelty. I put one between my lips when I had shut up my camera,
and offered another to a young man who was standing close to me. He
did not know what it was, and hesitated about taking it. To gratify
my curiosity, I pressed it on him, and he held it at arm’s length,
and looked at it with wonder and suspicion. But when he saw me light
mine and smoke issuing from my mouth, he dropped his cigarette as if
it were a live shell with a fuse smouldering in it and ran. Crawley
gave a cigarette one day to a Habash, who ate it, paper and all,
and said he liked it.

We reached the Gumara at half-past two, and pitched our camp beside
the ford; it is an unpleasant place, in the line of a frequented
highway. During the afternoon we passed the donkeys in review, and
picked out the best for Dupuis’s expedition to Debra Tabor. We
also made a selection of stores for the journey, which was expected
to last five days in all.




                             CHAPTER VIII


On the way between our camp and the Gumara River we passed
many villages. In one I saw a leper in an advanced stage of the
disease. Thereupon I made inquiry, and was told that leprosy is
very prevalent throughout Abyssinia. Almost all the maladies that
work havoc among the people could be gradually checked by adequate
medical control under European administration.

On Saturday, January 17, I said good-bye to my two companions,
who started for Debra Tabor at nine in the morning. It was the
proper course to see Ras Gouksha, and thank him personally for
allowing us to travel through his territory, and we desired to
obtain from him a letter of introduction and recommendation to
Tecla Haimanot, the King of Godjam, whose dominions lie on the other
side of the lake. This potentate is named after the most popular,
venerated—and apocryphal—saint in the well-filled Abyssinian
calendar. I shall refer to his miraculous exploits and experiences
in another chapter. They are unequalled by anything to be found in
the Golden Legend, and one can only regret that the late “Thomas
Ingoldsby” had never heard of him.

The emperor, when he is powerful enough to do so, exercises a
suzerainty over the King of Godjam, who served with the Abyssinian
forces at the battle of Adowa. But the difficulties of a suzerainty
unwillingly accepted, are as manifest in Eastern as they were
in Southern Africa, and the country has often been in revolt. For
instance, Consul Plowden wrote that in his day the ruler of Abyssinia,
who was then the Ras of Begemeder, though a titular emperor was
alive,[69] “had been engaged in the siege of a hill-fort in Godjam
now for four years; and another chief in rebellion, after gaining
two battles, had pillaged Gondar, and rendered all communication
with Godjam circuitous or dangerous.”[70] Menelek’s safe-conduct
letter is not valid in Tecla Haimanot’s dominions, and Dr. Stecker,
who was provided with this passport, was refused admission to the
country. The German explorer wished to cross the Blue Nile in the
neighbourhood of Woreb, but was unable to carry out his plan because
the escort officer who had been attached to his party declined to
proceed into Tecla Haimanot’s jurisdiction. The doctor pointed out,
with the logic of his race, that his permit was issued by the Negus
Negesti, and that a mandate from the king of kings was binding on
the ruler of Godjam. The escort officer disregarded logic after the
manner of his kind, and Dr. Stecker failed to cross the river. He
again tried to enter this territory from the north at Wendige, and
was again turned back. A third attempt, which promised well, was
frustrated by the double dealing of Litsch-Abai, Governor of Wendige,
and though the traveller finally received a special permit from King
John himself as Tecla Haimanot’s suzerain, he was unable to make
use of it, except for a few hasty excursions by water from Korata,
for he was summoned back to the Abyssinian court before he could
accomplish the journey in Godjam which he had planned.[71]

[Illustration: A CASE OE LEPROSY.

_See p._ 103.]

I took a photograph of my two companions while they were crossing
the river Gumara, and then at once returned to the camp and made
arrangements to remove it to a less inconvenient site.

I started on my mule with a native guide and an escort of two boys,
and in an hour and a half reached a perfect camping-ground about
halfway between our last halting-place and Korata. It was a quiet
spot on a little plateau, where a spring rose from the rock and ran
down a clean, hard channel. This was a welcome change from the muddy
water which we had been obliged to use during the last two days. I
returned to camp, and after lunch found—for the first time in
my life—my reputation embarrassing. Patients poured in, and it
occurred to me that if they had had any money and I had wished to
establish myself in practice in Abyssinia, I should have done very
well by the lakeside. The diseases which I had to treat were leprosy,
ophthalmia, tænia, malarial fever, itch, and certain maladies of
another order.[72]

Among my visitors was the parish priest. I supposed he had come
to ask alms, and sent a message intended to put off the demand,
explaining that I was only the doctor of the party, and that if there
was anything which he required, he must return when “the Bey”
(Dupuis) came back to camp and tell him about it. To my surprise he
sent an answer that he wished to see me and not the Bey, and that he
was not seeking alms. That being so, I was very pleased to receive
him, and found that he wanted treatment for the itch.

When he had gone I took my rod and tried a fly in the muddy river;
but the fish did not rise. So I gave up casting, which brought me
nothing but the armache, and went out with my gun. On the swampy
ground bordering the lake I shot three of the big geese that are
found there in great abundance. They were for the camp larder, not
for mine, as I thought the flesh rank and tough. The boys had often
asked me to shoot one and give it to them.

[Illustration: FORDING THE RIVER GUMARA.

_See p._ 105.]

On Sunday, January 18, I moved to our new camping-ground. It was
a well-wooded spot, grassy and full of wild flowering plants of
many kinds. This pleasant place is called Sara; it is six or seven
miles distant from the lake. Game was plentiful. On the way I shot
a sand-grouse, and, taking my gun in the afternoon, brought down
two plovers of a kind which I had not seen before. One, probably
the male bird, had excrescences of yellow skin on each side of the
beak. There were snipe and quail in abundance, but I did not get
within range of any.

During the day a man came to me who had a splinter of wood about two
inches long buried in his leg near the shin. To remove it I had to
cut down a couple of inches into the flesh. My patient endured the
operation without wincing.

Approaching the camp on the way back, I heard tomtoms, women warbling
after the manner of the country and the ringing of bells. I supposed
for a moment that a stray shot of mine had injured some one and that
the neighbourhood was in an uproar about it, and expected to find
a demonstration in progress. But on making inquiry I learned that
next day the Epiphany was celebrated, when there is a general feast
and holiday throughout Abyssinia. The gathering of Habashes was in a
hut near the river where they had come to be ready for the opening
of the festival. This is the blessing of the water by the priest,
and the people are allowed to bathe in it after the ceremony. I did
not myself see that any availed themselves of the privilege.

The Habashes, who had assembled near the stream, began their singular
devotions at daybreak. Mansfield Parkyns witnessed the whole procedure
of one of these commemoration feasts, and his lively account of it
is as exact now as when it was written:—

“As we have already stated while speaking of the fasts, the day
before the Epiphany is passed by the priests and other devout men
in abstinence until sunset. During the afternoon the Holy Sacrament
is administered to the priests only, in their churches. After the
conclusion of the ceremony they form in procession, and, accompanied
by the defterers or scribes, and bearing with them all the church
paraphernalia, go down to the neighbouring rivulet. Tents are
pitched near its banks, ready to receive them, and there is a store
of comestibles of every variety, with, of course, the usual large
proportion of beer and honey-mead; the whole of which good things
are from the voluntary contributions of the devout of the parish.

“When the much-wished-for sunset has arrived the feasting begins,
and it is fearful to behold with what vigour the half-famished divines
set to work. There is abundance for them; for the food being begged
as a supply for the ark, or tabote, the superstitious people think
that they are doing a very godly act in providing vast quantities,
while in reality the only result is that the priests make beasts
of themselves. The whole night is often passed in alternate prayer,
singing, dancing, and drinking. The songs and dances are both of a
religious kind: the latter probably taken from the religious dancing
of the Israelites, frequently mentioned in the Bible, is merely a
peculiar sort of shrugging of the body and stamping with the feet. The
end of these devotional orgies is the administration of the Sacrament
before sunrise; but it not unfrequently happens that long before that
time many of the priests are not in a very fit state to partake of it,
disgraceful scenes of drunkenness often disturbing these religious
festivals. During the evening of timkat, or the Epiphany, that I
passed at Adoua, several of the holy priests were found to have
tumbled into the neighbouring brook, Assam, overcome, as charitably
disposed persons may have said, by their religious fervour; though
some sinful scoffers—myself included, I fear—suggested that
liquor might have been the cause of their overthrow.

“After the Sacrament has been distributed among the priests,
the chief priest, raising his hands over the stream, blesses it,
and then the people bathe in it. Great men, however, and priests,
are sprinkled, to obviate the necessity of their mixing, even in
such a ceremony, with the vulgar herd. After this the women dance
and sing, and the men engage in various sports.”[73]

The “dancing” of the women seemed to me not unlike that which
is customary in Egypt and the Soudan. The chief feature of it was
the protruding of the chest and chin alternately. The more forcibly
this was done the more excellent was the style of the dancer. During
the performance they gasp like whirling dervishes.

The Abyssinian women are not kept in seclusion. Indeed, the liberty
which they have would be considered license from a European point
of view. But perhaps they had been shy of appearing before a
band of strangers. Anyhow, I had had no opportunity of forming an
opinion about the girls of Ethiopia while we travelled among the
villages. They came in numbers to the combined church-service and
dance which was in progress by the river, and I then found that some
were very decidedly good-looking. I took a couple of snap-shots of
one leading beauty, and the reader can determine for himself—or
herself—if she is fascinating. Tastes differ in these matters;
but it is fair to her to say that the charm of an animated, varying
expression and of lithe, graceful movements is poorly represented
in a photograph.

I took my place among the crowd, not by preference—for the Habash
resembles Gargonius more than Rufillus[74]—but that I might use
my camera effectively. Some of the young girls had one-half of the
head shaved, and this, I learned, was a sign that they had not yet
“come out.” It corresponded to short frocks and hair down the back
among us. Marriageable maidens had a tonsure—an odd contrast to our
employment of the same sign, more especially as it further denotes
that the damsel wishes to be mated. As far as I could discern the
dances are arranged by the older women with the object of letting
the girls be seen to advantage, and I noticed that the tonsures had
all been neatly renewed for the occasion. The hair grows naturally
in stiff ringlets, and these, springing up vigorously around the
shaven circle, make it a very striking feature. The married women
wear their hair plaited in rolls, which are saturated with grease.[75]
The gathering broke up about eleven o’clock in the morning and the
“congregation” left the bank of the stream. The “recessional”
was the tinkling of a bell carried by a miserable-looking little boy,
who was dressed in a red gown. He headed the party; then came the
priest, bearing a cross, and behind him the laity. It was a quaint
and interesting sight.

[Illustration: INTERESTED IN THE PHOTOGRAPHIC CAMERA.

_See p._ 102.]

[Illustration: WOMEN DANCING AT THE FEAST OF THE EPIPHANY.

_See p._ 110.]

When the camp was quiet again I turned my attention to entomology and
went out with a butterfly-net and a tin box to hold captures. Behind
me was a boy carrying my gun—a sort of Friday to my Robinson
Crusoe. We walked down the stream, and I saw many green swallow-tail
butterflies, but they were much too quick to be caught by my
pursuit. Presently I noticed that they were attracted by a certain
red mossy growth in the water, so I waited near a patch of this. A
butterfly hovered over it, and I made a dash for the specimen, and got
it, but damaged it in the process. Then I laid it, in as life-like an
attitude as I could give it, on the moss, and by this means secured
four fine specimens which came to see what my decoy had found.

In the afternoon I wandered up stream and saw one snipe, which I
shot as part of the menu for dinner. Then I left the course of the
river, and walked towards some trees which seemed to form a detached
clump. But as I drew nearer and fresh ground became visible, I found
that they were part of a fine wood. When I was close to the edge of
it, four quail rose at my feet. I tried to hit one, but was not sharp
enough. At the noise of the discharge a large bush-buck sprang up
in alarm and scampered off among the shrubs. The trees were chiefly
of the cypress family, and, following a footpath, I discovered the
explanation of this; for I came to an old ruinous church, and the
whole grove had spread gradually from its enclosure. Beyond the church
there was open ground, and a village lay at a little distance. The
scene was sunny, pleasant, and almost idyllic. I retraced my steps
and completed my bill of fare by adding a pigeon to the snipe.

The next day (January 20) I was medical officer to the country-side
again until half-past ten. One man had a half-inch splinter of wood
buried in his leg. He, like my former patient in a similar plight,
was very plucky and let me cut down on it and take it out. When I had
dressed the wound, he showed the zeal of his gratitude by throwing
himself upon the ground and trying to kiss my boots. Several of
my “cases” sent me offerings of eggs. About two dozen came in
altogether, a couple from one, three from another, and so on. I was
gratified, because these voluntary gifts, though they were small,
were tokens of good-will. Ordinarily the escort-officer[76] whom Ras
Gouksha, according to the custom of the country, had told off to
attend us, and whom we called “the tout,” extorted provisions
for us from the villagers—bread, milk, eggs, honey, grain, and
the like, we being entitled to levy this tribute as the official
guests of the Ras. The “tout” had gone with my companions to
Debra Tabor, and it was pleasant to find that, in his absence,
I received “benevolences” of another kind. This man professed
to be our guide for the journey round the lake, but we found that
he knew nothing at all about the roads and tracks. I may add that
the eggs spontaneously given were all new-laid, while those exacted
most emphatically were not.

After lunch I went out with my gun, and shot, besides a brace
of pigeons, a pair of fly-catchers of a very pretty kind. Their
plumage seemed to be worth preserving and I skinned them in the
afternoon. Later I had a complimentary visit from the priest. We
exchanged our respects in silence, by pantomime. He bowed and
displayed his deference ceremoniously in dumb-show, and I bowed in
return, and then the formalities ended. After this I talked to him
by the aid of Johannes. This priest was a leper suffering from the
form of the malady called “nerve leprosy.” He, poor fellow, had
not known the fact until I told him. I almost regretted that I had
unwittingly ended his ignorance. He showed the greatest astonishment
and interest while he listened to an account of the methods employed
in the treatment of the disease in Europe.

I was up early on the morning of January 21, and set to work to put a
coat of paint on the boat, but patients soon found me out and changed
my occupation. One case interested me much. It was that of an old
lady, a _dear_ old lady, who told me that she was a hundred years
old! Why she reversed feminine tradition by saying that, I cannot
tell; upon closer observation I judged her age to be about fifty-five,
allowing for the earlier senescence of Oriental people. She had heard
of me in Tigre, eighty-five miles distant, and had come all the way
to Sara that I might examine her broken wrist. The fracture was a
fortnight old, and I found that the bone had been set very sensibly,
and bound up with a ligature made of strips of cane strung together
upon a piece of leather. This made an excellent splint. The injury
was in a favourable position, and the _soi-disant_ centenarian had
full use of her fingers. I set up the fracture just as it had been
bound before, only with cotton-wool, a couple of bits of cardboard
and a neat new bandage. I thought that, as the patient had made
such a journey to consult me, she deserved that much treatment,
and she would have been sorely disappointed if she had returned to
Tigre with no outward and visible sign of the European doctor’s
attention to show to her friends. As it was, she was pleased and
grateful, and took the homeward road forthwith in all contentment.

About four o’clock in the afternoon my companions returned from
Debra Tabor. They had been received three times “in audience” by
the Ras, but I did not gather that any very deep impression had been
made upon them. They were, in fact, relieved to think that no more
visits of ceremony were in prospect. To the grief of all, one of our
soldiers had died on the journey. He was seized with fever the day
after he started, rapidly became worse, had to be left in a hut some
six miles out of Debra Tabor, and succumbed during the evening of
the second day of his illness. From a description of the symptoms,
I judged that his death was caused by severe intestinal irritation,
probably due to ptomaine poisoning. This, in all probability, resulted
from eating putrescent meat, a practice which we could not suppress
among our men, though it was particularly likely to be fatal in such
a climate as that of Abyssinia.

My companions brought with them some guinea-fowl and a sheep, and
we bought an ox in camp, which was to be killed the next day at
Korata. The cost of it was seven dollars, or about twelve shillings
and six pence, the vendor reserving the hide for his own purposes
as a condition of the bargain. That night a hyena was prowling
round my tent. I was not sure what manner of beast it was until
Crawley enlightened me next day. It certainly would not be safe for
a traveller to sleep in the open in places haunted by these creatures.

On the morning of January 22, after some delay in starting, we made
a steady jog-trot journey, through dried grass in a well-timbered
country, down the gentle slope that trends away from the plateau. The
track which we followed was rocky for the most part, and lay in
cultivable land. We saw enclosed fields here and there and numerous
villages—one in every four miles or so. There was no mishap, except
when the donkeys stuck in the mud at the bottom of the watercourses,
or lay down in it. And then it was dirty work to get them on, or
up. Just before one o’clock we arrived in Korata Bay and pitched
our camp there.

[Illustration: THE ‘CANDELABRA EUPHORBIA’ ON THE EDGE OF A DRY
WATER-COURSE.

_See p._ 66.]

[Illustration: BETWEEN SARA AND KORATA.

_See p._ 114.]

After lunch my companions started on muleback with their guns. They
were to be guided by a native boy about eighteen years old, whom our
interpreter Johannes had engaged in the town, and who said that he
knew where game was to be found. Crawley took the young fellow’s
staff in one hand, and in the other held out a Maria-Theresa dollar,
and made him understand by signs that if the sport was good he would
get the money, but if no game was seen he would have a cudgelling. The
humour of this tickled his fancy very much, and he was convulsed
with laughter over it. It was the first time I had seen an Abyssinian
enjoy a hearty laugh.

Korata stands upon a promontory. When I had held a “doctor’s
parade,” I took my gun and walked round the point of this little
headland. There appeared to be no birds to shoot, and I had made
up my mind to turn back empty-handed, when I saw a couple of fat
little ducks on a rock in the lake. I shot them when they rose, and,
knowing they were dead, sat down to wait till the waves brought them
within reach. The noise of the firing roused the curiosity of two
Abyssinians, who came up to me and bowed. Then one very obligingly
walked into the water and fetched out the birds. After this both
accompanied me, the first carrying the ducks, the other bearing my
gun. I understood that they meant to show me the way over the brow
of the hill and through Korata to our camp.

We left the sandy beach, and walked up a rocky track full of loose
stones into the town. It is merely a collection of tokhuls scattered
in groups of six or seven among untended coffee plantations. These are
not separated by hedges or fences, and perhaps I might best convey an
idea of their appearance to an English reader by comparing them to a
series of neglected orchards without traceable boundaries. Indeed,
I should have supposed that the coffee bushes, which attain a most
remarkable size, grew wild here, if it were not for a statement in
Consul Plowden’s report. He wrote: “The more temperate provinces
would probably be favourable to the growth of pepper, spices,
and coffee, which last has already been planted at Korata.”[77]
Evidently the soil is admirably suited for the raising of this produce
to advantage; the coffee is of an excellent quality, and though the
natives bestow no trouble and spend no money on the industry, there is
even now a steady export trade in the berries from this district. The
principal market for it is in the Soudan, where the demand is likely
to be larger as the development of Upper Egypt proceeds.

We traversed the main thoroughfare on the way back to camp. It is
so narrow that two persons cannot pass abreast. On either side is a
bank overgrown with nettles and other weeds. I saw very few people;
the life of the place seemed to be stagnant, and here, as elsewhere
in Abyssinia, there was very little money in circulation. Judging
roughly, I should estimate that Korata contains a population of
some two thousand, and that three-quarters of these are Soudanese
slaves. It is the custom among the Habashes that each man has a
boy-slave, and each married woman a girl-slave. The attitude of mind
of the Christian Abyssinians towards these wretched people is well
shown by the following slight incident—as I was walking through
Korata with the two Habashes who had volunteered to guide me, we
passed a couple of slave-boys. I said, “Soudanis,” and immediately
my companions spat upon the ground to signify their contempt.

When we reached camp I gave my new acquaintances a drink of chartreuse
in token of my gratitude, and then they squatted in front of my
tent, and seemed greatly interested in watching me while I dressed
a wound on the leg of one of the donkey-boys. They were doing no
harm, but “the tout” bustled up in his most consequential mood
to hurry them off, and I think he hit one of them. Anyhow, there
was some disturbance, and the other Habashes made common cause. The
corporal came to report to me that the escort officer was drunk,
and had struck a man. Thereupon I summoned “the tout” and rated
him, and ordered him to go and apologize to those visitors of mine,
who had done me a service. Matters straightened themselves out,
for the two men came to me half an hour later to say good-bye, and
they appeared to be perfectly happy and contented. They “bowed and
scraped” in the usual Abyssinian manner before they took their
departure. “The tout” made some representation to Dupuis when
he returned to camp; so I explained that the fellow was tipsy and
troublesome, and he was sent about his business. I gathered that he
asked leave to go, and hoped that he meant to quit us altogether,
but found afterwards that he had only sought permission to spend
the night in the town—over more tedj, of course. Dupuis paid no
heed to what he was saying, so off he went, but came back in an
unruffled mood, and full of complacency, on the following morning. I
think Johannes gave us the explanation of his conduct—that he had
orders from the Ras to make sure that we three Europeans should have
as little intercourse as possible with the Habashes.

That night the noise in our camp disturbed a hippo, whose
resting-place in the reeds was close by. I heard him snorting
loudly and angrily. He had a prescriptive right to quiet sleep
in that place, and I felt that we were intruders upon the ancient
order. The old-world life seemed to have a _raison d’être_ superior
to that of a modern expedition, and though the hippo kept me awake,
I sympathized with his indignation.

He and his kind were prominent figures in the scene next morning
(January 23). We counted five that were in sight together, and four
were less than two hundred yards from the shore.

After breakfast we visited the celebrated church of Korata. I am not
sure that it is the only one in the place, but its reputation makes
it _the_ church of Korata. We were told that a certain Frenchman
had travelled from France expressly to see it; if he did, it will be
owned that he was an exceptional Gaul, for the length and discomfort
of his journey were out of all proportion to the satisfaction to be
obtained at the end of it. The building—as my photograph of the
exterior shows—is circular, with thatched walls, and in point of
structure differs only in size from the village churches. It stands
in a compound, surrounded by a rough stone wall. The entrances are
two lich-gates, surmounted by thatched porticoes.

The church owes its especial sanctity to the patronage of a female
saint. Her chief exploit has been described by Mr. Hormuzd Rassam, and
as the passage in which he recounts it is full of the “atmosphere”
of the country, I quote it in full:—“In accordance with orders
from the King (Theodore) the two principal merchants of the place
(Korata) Aito Kasa and Aito Wandé—the latter, as mentioned above,
the person on whom Theodore had bestowed Lij Tasamma’s sister,
one of his favourite concubines—came out in a wherry to meet us
about a mile from the shore, clad in gorgeous habiliments. After
an interchange of civilities, we followed them to a small plateau
which rises above the lake about two miles to the south of the town,
where upwards of a hundred ecclesiastics from the neighbourhood were
assembled to welcome us, his Majesty having directed the clergy to
receive me with royal honours, and to take care that their persons
and garments were scrupulously clean. They were in full canonicals,
and greeted us with prayers and psalmody, conducting us with the same
accompaniments to a tent which had been erected for the occasion,
a few yards from our landing-place. The glitter of the pageant was
heightened by a grand display of crosses, croziers, mitres, church
umbrellas, David’s harps and censers, which were born aloft in the
procession. After spending a short time witnessing their religious
dances and listening to their discordant chants, the benediction was
pronounced, and the Lord’s Prayer wound up the service, when we
accompanied the merchants to their dwellings on mules provided for our
use. Korata rejoices in a patron saint of great celebrity—a native
Joan of Arc, in fact—called Waldt-Maryam. She was a resident nun
when a formidable Galla Chief, who had overrun a great part of the
country, appeared before Korata. She encouraged the townsmen to defend
the place, and their valour combined with her powerful intercessions
availed to withstand the repeated assaults of the infidel hosts,
who were eventually obliged to retreat with great loss. Since that
time the town has been placed under her special patronage, and to
show their veneration for the locality Abyssinians generally dismount
on approaching it, and walk on foot through the streets.”[78]

[Illustration: THE CHURCH AT KORATA CONTAINING THE FRESCOES.

_See p._ 118.]

[Illustration: THE PORTUGUESE BRIDGE OVER THE BLUE NILE.

_See p._ 147.

_From a Photograph by Mr. C. E. Dupuis._]

It is curious to reflect that the name of this remote little township
in Western Abyssinia was once very familiar to British ears, and it
would scarcely be straining an accepted phrase to say that the eyes
of the nation were turned towards this place; for while the British
mission was here and King Theodore was encamped on the peninsula
of Zegi, on the opposite shore of the lake, the negotiations about
“the captives” reached and passed the crucial stage in the early
months of 1866. The end of the story, as the whole world knows,
was the suicide of the King at Magdala. It is difficult even now,
in spite of all that has been written on the subject, to judge
how far he was mad and how far sane, how far a capricious, clever,
cruel savage, and how far a man of good parts and fine character
marred by circumstances.

In the church of Korata we first saw Abyssinian frescoes. It struck
me that they had an unmistakable resemblance to the Persian style,
and, in some instances, in spite of their crudity, the depiction of
the faces is good. The “exposure” photographs which I obtained
show the types of the subjects represented. Saint George, who is
the patron of Abyssinia as he is of England, is always a prominent
figure. The holy people who, by established usage, are admitted to
the “goodly fellowship” on the walls include certain worthies of
the Apocrypha. The picture which struck me most showed the Virgin and
Child crossing the Red Sea—probably during the flight to Egypt—in
an Abyssinian rush-boat and feeding hippopotami with bread as they
went. They are seated in the stern and are rowed by a Habash.

[Illustration: ]

[Illustration: FRESCOES IN THE CHURCH AT KORATA.

_See p._ 120.]

The church of Korata has a large staff of priests and _defterers_
or scribes.[79] To benefit fully by the sanctity of the place,
they sleep in the porches, on the beds which are called _angareebs_
in the Soudan. A theological school is attached to the holy building,
and we saw five or six of the students. One of them was suffering from
the disease which Stecker found to be so distressingly prevalent in
Abyssinia. The Chief Priest received us very graciously. He was much
interested when we named the saints depicted in the frescoes, and
appeared suddenly to realize that we were Christians. He seemed to
have the impression that an English official’s training comprised
instruction in all handicrafts; for he put into my friend Dupuis’s
hands the separate parts, including the mainspring and all the wheels,
of an old silver timepiece, and signified through the interpreter
to my astonished companion that he was desired to put them together
again and return the watch in working order. Dupuis explained that
he was not a “practical jeweller and repairer.” The agreeable
old dignitary, whose name was John, received an offering of ten
dollars with great gratitude.

Later in the day he sent me as a patient one of his students, who was
suffering from ophthalmia. This man brought a citron for each of us
three Europeans; why, I cannot guess, for this pulpy kind of lemon is
not a useful gift, nor a delight for a _gourmet_. The fruit may have
had some symbolical meaning, but, if so, we remained in ignorance
of it. I saw many other patients. Nearly all suffered from trivial
ailments. A woman and her husband, who both appeared to be in sound
health, kept trying to tell me some long tale or other, hovered
about near me, and drew my attention at every turn. Finally they
induced a soldier to interpret for them, and besought me to attend
to the woman’s case. When I examined her, I found that she had
come to consult me about the traces of the scar of an abscess which
had healed, as far as I could judge, some twenty years before! This
blemish on her “beauty” was about the size of a shilling.

In the afternoon we went shooting. The boy—Zody by name—who had
been so tickled by my friend’s dumb-show on the previous day, and
had earned his dollar by taking my comrades where guinea-fowl were
plentiful, again attached himself to our party. He guided us well,
and we made a good bag of quail, guinea-fowl, and partridges.

When we returned we found that we had received a present from
the lady of the Ras in whose dominions we were. It consisted of
loaves of “teff” bread, ten fowls, sixty eggs and a jar of
honey. All this we distributed among the men. The Ras’s wife was
owner of the soil hereabouts; it had been given to her as dowry,
and in such a case a woman has practically absolute proprietorship,
and the taxes are collected for her benefit. But her authority does
not extend to the selection of officials; that power remains in the
hands of the Ras. As the Mussulmans had killed during the day the ox
which we had bought for twelve shillings and sixpence, the men had
plenty of good fare before them, and our own larder was not badly
stocked. Vultures of enormous size gathered round the spot where the
animal was slaughtered, and fought over the offal that was left on
the ground. Numbers of carrion crows had flocked to the feast, and
had to be spectators for the most part. But they slipped in among
the big combatants now and then, and filched away a morsel adroitly.

I have given rather fully my impressions of Korata, which is a
typical township of Western Abyssinia. It may interest the reader if
I supplement it by the brief note written by Stecker, who sojourned
in the place more than a fortnight. He wrote—

“On April 1” (1881) “we reached Korata, the most important,
most charmingly situated and largest town on Lake Tsana. Korata has
often been visited by Europeans before, most recently by Piaggia,
who stayed here about a year and a half and occupied himself with
ornithology. Korata is famous for the first-rate excellence of its
coffee, which, as I was able to satisfy myself, flourishes here
exceptionally. The place is almost the most important market on the
Tsana, but at the moment does not contain more than eight hundred
to one thousand inhabitants against three thousand in Theodore’s
time, as very many have either migrated from the town or died of
fever. At an earlier time the Mohammedans were numerous here, but
most of them emigrated to Gallabat after the order issued to them by
King John that they should one and all embrace Christianity. Only a
few families abandoned Islamism and adopted the Coptic faith. There
are also three Jewish families living here. Korata is divided
into ten districts whose names are Dengelteffa, Tukuwodeb, Margeza,
Kulomalfia, Siet biet Negus, Guaguata, Guwi, Adisamba, Vof tschogevia,
Gusudur, and Slam biet (or Slam modeb), which last is at present
entirely deserted. Korata is the abode of an exceptionally numerous
priesthood.” Dr. Stecker formed friendships among the laity in
the place, but “by no means lived in the best harmony with the
pretentious clergy.”[80]




                              CHAPTER IX


We remained two days at Korata in order to replenish our stock of
grain and other provisions. During this time I watched the birds
of prey as closely as I could. They are of the same species as
those found in the Soudan, and my rough and brief observations,
so far as they went, altogether confirmed the interesting remarks
of Sir S. Baker on the subject. The passage illustrates so well
the brilliant combination in that explorer of keen sportsmanship,
and rare ability in the study of natural history that I need offer
no apology for quoting it:—

“A question has been frequently discussed whether the vulture is
directed to his prey by the sense of smell, or by keenness of vision;
I have paid much attention to their habits, and, although there can
be no question that their power of scent is great, I feel convinced
that all birds of prey are attracted to their food principally by
their acuteness of sight. If a vulture were blind it would starve;
but were the nostrils plugged up with some foreign substance to
destroy its power of smell, it would not materially interfere with
its usual mode of hunting. Scent is always stronger near the surface
of the ground: thus hyenas, lions, and other beasts of prey will
scent a carcase from a great distance, provided they are to leeward;
but the same animals would be unaware of the presence of the body
if they were but a short distance to windward.

“If birds of prey trusted to their nostrils, they would keep as
near the ground as possible, like the carrion crow, which I believe
is the exception that proves the rule. It is an astonishing sight to
witness the sudden arrival of vultures at the death of an animal, when
a few moments before not a bird has been in sight in the cloudless
sky. I have frequently lain down beneath a bush after having shot
an animal, to watch the arrival of the various species of birds in
regular succession; they invariably appear in the following order:—

“No. 1, the black and white crow: this knowing individual is most
industrious is seeking for his food, and is generally to be seen
either perched upon rocks or upon trees; I believe he trusts much
to his sense of smell, as he is never far from the ground; at the
same time he keeps a vigilant look-out with a very sharp pair of eyes.

“No. 2 is the common buzzard; this bird, so well known for its
extreme daring, is omnipresent, and trusts generally to sight,
as it will stoop at a piece of red cloth in mistake for flesh;
thus proving that it depends more upon vision than smell.

“No. 3 is the red-faced small vulture.

“No. 4 is the large bare-throated vulture.

“No. 5 the marabou stork, sometimes accompanied by the adjutant.

“When employed in watching the habits of these birds it is
interesting to make the experiment of concealing a dead animal
beneath a dense bush. This I have frequently done; in which case
the vultures never find it unless they have witnessed its death;
if so, they will already have pounced in their descent while you
have been engaged in concealing the body. They will then upon near
approach discover it by the smell. But, if an animal is killed
in thick grass, eight or ten feet high, the vultures will seldom
discover it. I have frequently known the bodies of large animals,
such as elephants and buffaloes, to lie for days beneath the shade
of the dense nabbuk bushes, unattended by a single vulture; whereas,
if visible, they would have been visited by these birds in thousands.

“Vultures and the marabou stork fly at enormous altitudes. I believe
that every species keeps to its own particular elevation, and that the
atmosphere contains regular strata of birds of prey, who, invisible
to the human eye at that enormous height, are constantly resting
upon their wide-spread wings, and, soaring in circles, watching with
telescopic sight the world beneath. At that great elevation they are
in an exceedingly cool temperature, therefore they require no water;
but some birds that make long flights over arid deserts, such as
the marabou stork and the bustard, are provided with water-sacs;
the former in an external bag a little below the throat, the latter
in an internal sac, both of which carry a large supply. As the birds
of prey that I have enumerated invariably appear at a carcase in their
regular succession, I can only suggest that they travel from different
distances or altitudes. Thus, the marabou stork would be farthest from
the earth; the large bare-necked vulture would be the next below him,
followed by the red-faced vulture, the buzzard, and the crow that is
generally about the surface. From their immense elevation, the birds
of prey possess an extraordinary field of vision; and, although they
are invisible from the earth, there can be no doubt that they are
perpetually hunting in circles within sight of each other. Thus,
should one bird discover some object upon the surface of the earth
below, his sudden pounce would be at once observed and imitated by
every vulture in succession. Should one vulture nearest the earth
perceive a body, or even should he notice the buzzards collecting at a
given point, he would at once become aware of a prey; his rush towards
the spot would act like a telegraphic signal to others, that would
be rapidly communicated to every vulture at successive airy stations.

“If an animal be skinned, the red surface will attract the vultures
in an instant; this proves that their sight, and not their scent,
has been attracted by an object that suggests blood. I have frequently
watched them when I have shot an animal, and my people have commenced
the process of skinning. At first, not a bird has been in sight,
as I have lain on my back and gazed into the spotless blue sky; but
hardly has the skin been half withdrawn, than specks have appeared
in the heavens, rapidly increasing. ‘Caw, caw,’ has been heard
several times from the neighbouring bushes; the buzzards have swept
down close to my people, and have snatched a morsel of clotted blood
from the ground. The specks have increased to winged creatures, at
the great height resembling flies, when presently a rushing sound
behind me, like a whirlwind, has been followed by the pounce of a
red-faced vulture, that has fallen from the heavens in haste with
closed wings to the bloody feast, followed quickly by many of his
brethren. The sky has become alive with black specks in the far
distant blue, with wings hurrying from all quarters. At length a
coronet of steady soaring vultures forms a wide circle far above, as
they hesitate to descend, but continue to revolve around the object
of attraction. The great bare-necked vulture suddenly appears. The
animal has been skinned, and the required flesh secured by the men;
we withdraw a hundred paces from the scene. A general rush and
descent takes place; hundreds of hungry beaks are tearing at the
offal. The great bare-necked vulture claims respect among the crowd;
but another form has appeared in the blue sky, and rapidly descends. A
pair of long, ungainly legs, hanging down beneath the enormous wings,
now touch the ground, and Abou Seen (father of the teeth or beak,
the Arab name for the Marabou) has arrived, and he stalks proudly
towards the crowds, pecking his way with his long bill through
the struggling vultures, and swallowing the lion’s share of the
repast. Abou Seen, last but not least, had arrived from the highest
region, while others had the advantage of the start. This bird is very
numerous through the Nile tributaries of Abyssinia, and may generally
be seen perched upon the rocks of the waterside, watching for small
fish, or any reptile that may chance to come within his reach. The
well-known feathers are situated in a plume beneath the tail.”[81]

On the night of January 23, the thermometer sank to 29° F. just
before sunrise, so no one turned out with alacrity, and we were
later than usual in starting.

I was surprised to find that the boy Zody sought to attach himself
to the expedition. While we were preparing to leave Korata he
came to us and said, “You are good people and I want to go with
you.” We raised no objection, and he joined our party. A little
while afterwards he declared his intention of accompanying us to
the Soudan. Thereupon he returned to Korata and “realized his
capital” by selling the cow which he possessed. Then he overtook
the expedition, and served throughout the journey to Gallabat,
receiving the same pay as the other boys. He was smart, willing, and
useful, soon learned from his comrades what our requirements were,
and acted both as indoor and outdoor servant. He had no Arabic,
and all intercourse between us was by signs, which he was extremely
quick to understand. The motive that prompted him to render us
service was undoubtedly his devoted loyalty to Crawley.

Most travellers have given the Habashes a thoroughly bad character. It
is said that they are vain, greedy, treacherous, and cowardly. Though
we Europeans had but few unpleasant experiences of them while we
were in the country, I cannot say that I saw anything which would
give me authority to dispute the conclusions of writers who knew
them better from longer observation, and it is the more pleasant
on this account to record an instance of an Abyssinian’s fidelity
and cheerful good-will.

We marched through the familiar dry grass for about half an hour
after we left Korata, and then reached the river Gelda at a place
where, according to the “tout,” it was fordable. This is a
muddy, rapid stream, flowing between earthy banks. Its bed here
was soft and yielding, and there was not the least possibility of
getting the beasts and baggage across. In fact, our guide had misled
us. It was a most annoying waste of time. While we were shooting on
the previous day we had seen a fording-place higher up the stream,
and now struck towards it in spite of the “tout’s” assertion
that the water there would be up to the men’s necks.

When we reached the spot, we found a shallow, fairly fast current
flowing over a rocky bed. The guide was entirely unabashed by the
fact that he had misdirected us and lied to us. After this we ceased
to consult natives and planned our course according to Stecker’s
map, and in this way managed the matter well enough. There are
some small inaccuracies in the doctor’s work, but it is entirely
sufficient for all practical purposes and a worthy record of the
German traveller’s high attainments and untiring patience.

The ledges of rock which form the bed of the river at the upper ford
are smooth and round, and in consequence very slippery. We had a busy
time getting the donkeys over. Men had to be posted in the water to
steady them as they crossed, but the real trouble was at the further
bank. It was high and steep, and the way up was by a narrow cutting
with a hard surface. The first wet donkey that passed along this made
it as insecure for foothold as a slide, and the next donkey struggled
and scrambled and fell back into the water. We had to tell off boys
to shovel relays of earth on to the slope and then others grabbed
the donkey’s load, its ear, its tail, or anything they could get
a grip of, and shoved it up bodily. Another detachment was on duty
on the top of the bank to prevent the animals from straying.

Beyond the river lies a steep hill about five hundred feet high. The
ascent is by a track of the usual kind, about a foot and a half
wide. The way down from the summit is very precipitous and was full
of loose stones. These the donkeys often dislodged, and many rolled
along and struck the animals that were moving in front, but we had
no trouble with them.

We passed a village which is called Selselima, consisting of the usual
tokhuls grouped about a round thatched church. Here I saw an example
of Abyssinian methods of administration. A lad of about eighteen
was standing in a field, watching us pass. Ras Gouksha’s man,
the “tout,” went up to him, grabbed him by his gown, and began
to question him. Soon another Abyssinian approached him, grasped the
boy’s _shama_ in like manner, and also interrogated him. I inquired
what they were asking, and was told they were seeking directions to
guide them by the nearest way to the source of the Blue Nile, which
was then some four miles distant. Presently without apparent reason,
both our fellows began to belabour the lad with their staves. I rode
up and ordered them sharply to desist, and explain to me what they
were about. Thereupon they made off, and one of our escort told me
they had been beating the boy so as to force him to act as their
guide—without pay, of course—and accompany them to the river,
though he had already given them full directions for the road.

The end of the descent brought us to the lake shore again, and we
camped on the further bank of a little stream of clear water running
in a rocky bed. It is called the Tschembolo. This is near to the
village of Woreb, and is only two miles from the point where the
Blue Nile flows from Lake Tsana. We could not proceed further that
day, for the march had been a long one, and it was late already. So
we halted upon this spot by the brook, as it was a very suitable
camping-ground with a clean drinking supply, and determined to move
on the morrow to a more central position, if we could find one,
for the survey work which Crawley and Dupuis were to undertake.

Patients had followed me from Korata. They were people who had
reached our camp there in the morning, after I had packed up the
medicine-chest and mounted my mule. Some half a dozen had come over to
Woreb after us, and were now waiting to see me. But I was dead tired
that evening and refused to attend to them. There were no serious
cases, and I told those who wished to have advice to return at nine
o’clock the next morning. If I had made myself more accessible than
I was, I should have been mobbed not only by the sick in Abyssinia,
but by a host of people who fancied they had ailments.

[Illustration: OUR GUIDE BETWEEN KORATA AND WOREB.

_See p._ 132.]

Just before dinner there was a commotion close to our tents, and
we found that one of the soldiers of our escort had tried to stab
Walda Mariam,[82] the assistant of Johannes, with whom he had come to
meet us at Gallabat. We immediately disarmed the soldier, and then
discovered that both had been to a village near by to get _tedj_,
and were drunk. So we disarmed the deputy-interpreter also, and I
was sorry to see him in disgrace, for he had always been willing,
hard-working, and cheery on the journey. We placed the soldier under
arrest, and warned him that if he were found brawling again he would
be flogged. Then, order being restored, we went to dinner.

In this part of Abyssinia the mountain air sharpened our appetites,
and I must own that we were sturdy trenchermen. Each would tackle a
whole guinea-fowl or duck for lunch, and be ready for another in the
evening. We had puddings “of sorts” too, and yet, like Oliver
Twist, we “asked for more.”

On the morning of January 26, the quarrelsome soldier, now sober
and crestfallen, was brought up for a formal reprimand. He was told
that his case would be reported at Gallabat, and that he would be
punished there according to military law. Then his arms were returned
to him. Walda Mariam also attended, looking sheepish and sorry for
himself, and his weapons too were restored to him.

After this the medicine-chest was unloaded, and I redeemed my promise
to patients. One family—father, mother, and two children—had come
from a distance to consult me at Korata. They had arrived too late,
and had followed us to Woreb. The father was suffering from necrosis
of the lower jaw, and I had to draw three teeth for him. The mother
had come to hear what instructions were given about the children—a
little boy and a little girl. They were suffering from strumous,
tuberculous glands of the neck. I had as “hospital orderly”
a soldier who understood Arabic and Amharic, and could therefore
put me _en rapport_ with my patients. After an examination of the
children, I concluded that the right thing would be an operation
with the knife. I told this to the woman, and the soldier interpreted
what I said word for word. As soon as the little girl heard the word
“knife,” she gave vent to the loudest, most piercing scream that
she could utter, and fairly flew from the spot. The noise created
a sensation among the Habashes and boys, who seemed to think that
I was killing a patient. It would have been awkward in any case to
operate in camp, and on this occasion I had no opportunity. Nothing
short of brute force would have brought the little girl back, and
I think the word “knife” conveyed to her mother and brother the
notion of the butcher’s rather than the surgeon’s implement.

My companions had mounted their mules and started on an exploring
journey, intending to select a good site as a camping-ground close
to the river. But by the time they returned they had decided that
our present position could not be bettered, as the river-banks were
low ground covered with papyrus swamps, and any halting-place there
would be very unhealthy. They had also found that all the points from
which they wished to make observations were easy of access from the
spot that we had chosen.

I had a rather sharp touch of fever in the afternoon, and was obliged
to give up work and lie down. These attacks are unavoidable at times
in that country. They make one feel extremely helpless and depressed
while they last, but soon yield to quinine and a little rest.

The next morning, January 26, I was better, but felt shaky when I
got on my mule and started with my companions. At a short distance
from the camp we left the animals in a hollow and climbed a steep
hill about five hundred feet high. It was covered with tall grass
and the soil was stony, so that I was soon out of breath. But when
we reached the summit a lovely scene lay in front of us. The Blue
Nile, winding away from its outlet in the lake, was bright in the
sunshine. The green banks on either side were delightful to the eyes,
and here and there in the stream were little islands, vivid in colour,
where the papyrus grew to a height of twelve or fourteen feet. There
were many dark dots in the water—heads of hippopotami, which swarm
in these upper reaches of the Blue Nile. Mountains rise above the
river-valley on both sides, and the stream curves among the spurs at
their base, till it is lost to sight. The view from the high land
is far-reaching, and the clearness of the air makes even distant
outlines very distinct. I can scarcely imagine a scene at once so
charming, tranquil, and impressive as this prospect of lake, river,
and mountains. It is impossible to convey in words the effect of
the simple, strong colouring—the blue lake, the flashing stream,
the verdurous islands and swamps, the cloudless, lustrous sky, the
chromes and grays and purplish shadows among the ridges that sweep
upward and recede from the valley in splendid lines. And upon the
peace of this landscape at least, the personally conducted tripper
will not intrude just yet.

I noticed several cataracts, but none of any great extent. The water
in these rapids was rushing over and between rocks, and they must be
ugly places when the lake rises. In other parts the river was smooth
and still. In one pool we counted eighteen hippos taking the air,
just their snouts being out of water.

Almost at once we set to work and piled up a heap of stones, and fixed
in the centre of it a long pole as a landmark. This was a straight,
thin branch which we cut from a tree near at hand. After this we
set up three more “cairns” on selected spots, and then descended
to the low ground, where the mules were waiting. I remained in the
valley, for exertion soon tires one out after the fever. My friends
climbed other hills and erected more landmarks before returning to
lunch. In the meanwhile I tried my luck at angling in the river,
but caught nothing, and soon gave up the attempt, and lounged under
a palm-tree, reading.

My companions started on their mules after lunch to continue
their survey, and I went back to camp and was glad to be idle. The
day’s work was ended before evening, and I believe we were the
first Britishers who had five-o’clock tea beside the head waters
of the Blue Nile.

Next morning (January 27) I had instructions to set up a stone-heap
on a little hill about four miles from camp. I made my way to it
direct through a tangle of jungle-growths, and from the summit
obtained the photograph of the source of the river at the point of
outflow from the lake which forms the frontispiece of this book. I
believe this to be the only photo of the place in existence.

I descended the hill, and walked along the riverbank towards the
place where we had arranged to lunch. The soil was boggy, covered in
some parts by reed-grass and in others by jungle-growths. Hippo spoor
was everywhere. This tract is not well-wooded; there are a few palms,
and some scattered trees of other kinds, chiefly mimosas. The bed of
the river is hard rock, and the water was clear and drinkable. The
depth varied very greatly, from a few inches in the rapids to some
six metres in the pools. I saw the stream at its lowest. Watermarks
showed clearly that in flood time it rises sixteen to eighteen feet
above this level.

When I reached the place where we were to lunch, I saw a big herd
of hippos basking on the surface of the river. Crawley and I walked
towards them, and when they saw us, they sank, leaving only their
snouts visible. These offered an interesting target for rifle-fire,
and for awhile the hippos watched our practice with unconcern. Then
a shot told—there was a “general post”—and not a sign of
the huge beasts remained in sight.

After this I took my rod and tried for a fish in a pool below a
rapid. While I was standing there, I saw a large white eagle, a
splendid fellow, which had been watching me fishing, swoop from the
branch of a high tree. He circled twice above me, and then pounced
upon a young duck, that was hiding under a ledge in the river-bed,
and bore it off. The parent birds were close at hand, and I heard
their loud, frightened, and indignant cackling. I do not think wild
duck are plentiful hereabouts. No doubt they are harried by these
eagles and have to find safer breeding-places. We saw only a very
few. I landed a plump fish of the perch tribe, which weighed about
four pounds. He showed no fight, but came tamely into shallow water,
where the boy who was with me picked him up. My friends came late
into camp after a hard day’s work upon their survey.

The high ground beside the head waters of the Blue Nile is pleasant
and healthy and could support a large population. The maximum
temperature in the day, when we were there, was about eighty-five
degrees. Usually a cool, exhilarating breeze was blowing, and we
did not feel the heat disagreeably. If this place were more easily
accessible, it would be a perfect pleasure-resort and a most valuable
sanatorium for residents in the Soudan.

The event of January 28, was the appearance of potatoes at
table. I had often gazed at this unvarying factor in one’s diet
with indifference if not slightingly, and had wondered why the
things were served so constantly at European tables. It was not
till we missed the daily luxury that we appreciated it. The roast
fowl was another bird with this accompaniment. These were the only
potatoes that we saw in Abyssinia; they were very small. The cook
had discovered them in a remote hamlet. I can offer no explanation
of their presence in that place. He purchased a sackful for one salt
and an empty lime-juice bottle, and returned to camp in triumph,
shouting at the top of his voice that he had found “batatas”
at last. Perhaps as he failed to discover any more, the expedition
denuded the country of its whole stock.




                               CHAPTER X


On January 29 my companions and I started early for the little
hill beside the river on which I had set up a “cairn” the
day before. This is the first rising ground beyond the outlet of
the Blue Nile. (It ought to be named after some kingly, heroic,
half-divine figure that looms in the dawn of legend, but—with my
modest compliments to future geographers—it has since been called
Hayes’s Hill.)

At the foot of it, just below the first cataract in the stream, is a
ferry. It is a primordial means of transit into Godjam. Two men are
in charge of a papyrus boat which they paddle across, using a pole in
the manner of a canoe-paddle, as the water is too deep for punting. At
this spot Dupuis had some survey work in hand which involved taking a
rope to the opposite bank. Our Berthon boat had been brought down to
the riverside, and Crawley and I rowed over towing the line astern and
made it fast to a tree. Crawley returned, and I remained at leisure
in Godjam and used my camera and fishing-rod to wile away the time.

I saw some natives using a net like a seine in the shallow water
just below the rapids. They had some very fair catches, and among
the fishes which they hauled ashore I noticed in particular one of
a blue colour which had what appeared to me to be a red sucker on
its snout. I have no idea to what species it belonged.

My friends finished their mapping about one o’clock, and then
we lunched in the shade of a mimosa. While we sat there we had an
opportunity of watching the Habashes’ method of getting donkeys
across the stream. They were pushed into the water, then four to six
men would scramble on to the crazy _tankoa_, which looked as if it
must sink under their weight. Each man would now seize a donkey by
the ear, and then the boat would start guided by the old ferryman
in the stern. Thus the donkeys had to swim alongside the raft—it
is no more than that—and as their heads were held above water,
they could scarcely come to harm.

We saw that it would save us much time and trouble if our beasts were
towed across in this way, and, after some deliberation, we asked the
ferryman what his charge would be for transporting seventy donkeys. He
replied that he would do it for seven dollars. This, on consideration,
seemed a fair bargain, and we resolved to make an early start on
the following day. The baggage was to go over in our own boat, which
could be hauled across by means of a line made fast on both banks.

After concluding this arrangement we went back to camp, carrying
the rope with us. It might have tempted Charon—I don’t know his
Abyssinian name—if we had left it. We had sent Walda Mariam as
an envoy to King Tecla Haimanot, whose lands we should enter after
crossing the river. The king was in residence not far off, and in
the evening our man returned with a satisfactory message giving
us all necessary permission. The jurisdiction of Tecla Haimanot
extended only ten or twelve miles northward beside the lake, and we
found that we should have to obtain the consent of Ras Mangousha,
whose dominions march here with those of the King of Godjam, before
we could complete the circuit of the lake.

[Illustration: THE DONKEYS CROSSING THE FERRY.

_See p._ 140.]

[Illustration: THE MULES SWIMMING THE FERRY.

_See p._ 140.]

We made an early start on the morning of the 30th. I went to the ferry
and had our Berthon boat put together. We found that our plan answered
excellently. Our boat, loaded with baggage, was easily hauled over,
and by a quarter to ten half a score of donkeys had been carried
across in tow of the ferrymen’s _tankoa_. Some of the boys would
put their arms under a donkey and lift it bodily into place by the
ferryboat at the starting-point, where the water was shallow. It
was a scrambling, pushing, splashing business, and they thoroughly
enjoyed standing in the stream and basking in the sunshine. A number
of Habashes from Woreb helped, and our crossing was a merry, pleasant
scene. The mules did not go “by ferry,” but swam over with men
beside them, as at other deep water passages. It was all done and
we had landed in Godjam without mishap of any kind by a quarter-past
one. The last load that I took over in our boat consisted of nine of
our men, rather more passengers, I fancy, than I was “licensed to
carry.” We scrambled up some rocks on the further side, and then
found ourselves on level ground, where travelling would be easy.

Fully half of the donkeys had been reloaded by the time we finished
lunch, and we moved ahead with this detachment. The country on the
further side of the Nile seemed to me to be in a more prosperous
state. There was more cultivation of dhurra and grain. The natives
were fatter and looked, by comparison, “well-to-do.” I heard
afterwards that the ruler here is not so extortionate as certain
other chieftains. I believe that we were the first Europeans to
traverse this part of Godjam.

After a journey of three-quarters of an hour we approached the village
of Bahardar Georgis. Before entering the hamlet we had to conform to
a singular usage. Two men had stationed themselves beside the track,
one on each side of it, and they held a _shama_ across it. We asked
Johannes what this meant, and he told us that it was to protect the
villagers from the power of the “evil eye.” This is lost if the
stranger who may possess it passes under the _shama_. We had to
move the greasy robe aside and go beneath it, hoping rather than
believing that it was not verminous. The Habashes are extremely
superstitious in this respect. It is customary to screen a person
of rank with a shama when he drinks, to safeguard him from the same
peril, and such persons are frequently kept from view likewise while
they eat their meals. Mr. Hormuzd Rassam, being a high dignitary, was
carefully shielded in this way to his no slight disgust. He wrote:
“As the generality of the garments spread out for our seclusion
had not been washed for months, and probably not since they were
first worn, the reader’s imagination may be left to conceive the
odour which surrounded us on these occasions. But even if they had
been washed no later than the previous day, the disagreeable smell
of rancid butter with which the natives besmear their heads would
suffice to render any such curtain almost intolerable.”[83]

We had to use care in the selection of our camping-ground near
Bahardar Georgis. Much of the ground is covered by the papyrus
plant, and this shows dampness and, by consequence, risk of
fever. We finally selected a spot on some high ground, where
there was a dry, red soil. This happened to be close to a little
settlement of the curious people called _Waitos_, who are only
found in this district. They inhabited two or three huts near the
village. Mr. Rassam has given a concise and interesting account of
them: “The Waitos are Mussulmans of the Maliky sect, and although
Mohammedanism recognizes no castes among its adherents, nevertheless
these people, who subsist upon the flesh of the hippopotamus”
(which is considered unclean by all other Abyssinians), “are looked
down upon by their co-religionists, who consider it a degradation
to associate with them. A few among them cultivate a little grain,
but the flesh of the hippopotamus forms their staple food. . . . I
was unable to obtain any satisfactory account of the origin of this
peculiar people. It is just possible, however, that there may be
some relationship between them and the _Watos_, a tribe of Gallas
inhabiting the banks of the Hawash, south of Shoa, who are also
said to live on the flesh of the hippopotamus.”[84] Stecker,
who was scrupulously accurate in almost every particular which
he mentioned, said that the _Waitos_ were, “strictly speaking,
a Pagan sect (_eigentlich Heiden-secte_)”[85] but in this he was
mistaken. Oddly enough, these people, though they are, in a sense,
outcasts, are exclusive, and proud of their isolation.

[Illustration: PUSHING THE DONKEYS INTO THE WATER PREPARATORY TO
THEIR BEING FERRIED ACROSS.

_See p._ 141.]

On the morning of January 31 my companions took the Berthon boat
and a whole cargo of surveyors’ gear, and started to complete the
work for which the expedition had been organized. A full account
of the results will be found in Sir William Garstin’s official
Report on the Sources of the Nile. My services were not requested,
and I certainly have had more practice in surveying symptoms than
ground. I stayed in camp for awhile, and then walked to the river with
angling-tackle, and landed a fair-sized fish with a spoon-bait. It
was of the perch family.

The country around Bahardar Georgis is flat, as I have said, and in
places swampy. The marshy tracts are overgrown by papyrus, and it is
not easy to distinguish them before one is both on and in them. On
this moist ground we saw flocks of wild geese and various species of
ibis. In the neighbourhood of the village I first observed the bird
known as _buphaga Africana_. It pitched upon the backs of any of our
donkeys that had sores, and caught the flies that settled there. The
bodies of these birds are gray, and scarcely distinguishable from
the donkey’s hide. Their beaks are red, and, at a little distance,
I noticed that they exactly resembled a sore on the beasts which they
infested. This colouring seems a remarkable example of evolution in
the direction of “protective mimicry.” They worry cattle also,
and it is well known that they peck the animals to make raw places,
which then attract the flies that are caught upon them. I believe
that they also use their beaks to mimic sores, for my attention was
first drawn to the birds by the semblance of abrasions on the spinal
area of some of the donkeys, where I knew that none existed. No
doubt the beaks, used thus, are a successful trap.

During the day I received a visit from an Abyssinian artist who
lived at Bahardar Georgis. He came to beg colours from us, if we had
any; I have no notion how the Habashes compound their pigments. He
told me that he had a commission to execute some paintings for the
church. I could only give him some pieces of red and blue pencil. He
was extremely grateful for these, and bestowed upon me some samples
of his art.

I presented him to Dupuis, who was greatly interested by his
pictures, and kindly took the trouble to discover, after much
rummaging, an old box of paints. This he gave to the youth, whose
delight was indescribable. He promised Dupuis works of art in his
best style. In the evening he came to our camp again, and I showed
him the Christmas Number of _Pearson’s Magazine_. This pleased him
highly, especially when he found that he was to be the possessor of
it. The three coloured plates caused him an ecstasy of wonder and
pleasure, and the respective artists—and the colour-printers—have
a venerating admirer by the lake-side.

My friends returned to camp rather later than they had expected,
but were well pleased by the result of the day’s work. They found
that at this season of the year the discharge from the lake into the
river was at the rate of forty-two cubic metres to the second. And
they brought some guinea-fowl to the larder. The future proprietor
of the Blue Nile Hotel and pension on Lake Tsana will always be able
to offer his guests fish and poultry.

On February 1 my companions started on foot, accompanied by Johannes,
a pack-mule and some boys, to see the first falls in the course of
the Blue Nile, and the ancient stone bridge which spans the river
at this point.[86] These falls are twenty-one miles below the outlet
of the stream from the lake.

I remained in charge of the camp, and, to wile away the time, took
our boat out upon the lake. This caused a great sensation among the
villagers, who had seen nothing of my friends’ excursion in it
the previous day. The Habashes flocked to the edge of the water,
but whenever I rested on the oars for a few moments, they rushed
screaming into their huts. Apparently they regarded me as a naval
force, and thought I meant to carry Bahardar Georgis by a _coup de
main_. Perhaps they remembered King Theodore’s descent upon the
island of Dek. “He was in pursuit, it appears, of a refractory
chief under Ras Ali, who had taken refuge on the island. In less
than twenty-four hours he had two hundred canoes constructed, in
which he suddenly appeared off the place with five hundred chosen
warriors.”[87] I should think that this was the only occasion on
which the _tankoa_ was used in war, and have a feeling of compassion
for the five hundred warriors.

We noticed that at this place the children seemed especially
frightened of white men. Perhaps their mothers used us as bogeys
to terrify those that were troublesome. We found that we could soon
regain the confidence of the people by giving them any little picture,
no matter of what; prints from advertisements of furniture or clothes
served quite well. They received these with delight.

On the next day (February 2) my friends returned to camp, having
made short work of their tramp of forty-two miles. Crawley had
shot an oribi, a species of gazelle, on the way to the falls, and
Dupuis secured one on the march back. The former had served as tasty
rations to the party on the journey, the latter came into our larder,
and the prospect of venison after a long course of guinea-fowl was
very pleasant.

They had met a small body of Habashes on the road, who attempted to
turn them back, and these men loaded their rifles as a menace. They
were probably soldiers of the King of Godjam, but as the Abyssinian
troops wear no uniform it is difficult to distinguish those who are
“in the service” from those who are not. As among the Boers,
the combatant can at any time become a non-combatant if he has time
to hide his rifle and cartridges. My friends took no notice of the
hostile demonstration and rode on. Nothing came of it. Probably the
threat was intended to extort money. Usually we were well received,
and I attribute this to the sound judgment of our chief, who took
care to leave the villages near which we camped a little richer than
we found them.

The bridge is a most interesting relic of the times of Portuguese
ascendency in Abyssinia. I am indebted to Dupuis for permission
to reproduce his photograph of it. The following account of its
construction is taken from Dr. Johnson’s translation of Father
Jerome Lobo’s[88] “Voyage to Abyssinia.” I quote the passage
_in extenso_ because it contains a reference to a question which has
been much discussed, though it has merely an academic interest,
viz. whether Lake Tsana, or the river which is its principal
tributary, should be regarded as the true source of the Blue Nile.

“The Nile, which the natives call Abavi” (Abai), “that is the
father of waters, rises first in Sacala, a province of the kingdom
of Goiama” (Godjam), “which is one of the most fruitful and
agreeable of all the Abyssinian dominions. This province is inhabited
by a nation of the Agaus, who call themselves Christians, but by
daily intermarriages they have allied themselves to the Pagan Agaus,
and adopted all their customs and ceremonies. These two nations are
very numerous, fierce, and unconquerable, inhabiting a country full
of mountains, which are covered with woods, and hollowed by nature
into vast caverns, many of which are capable of containing several
numerous families and hundreds of cows. To these recesses the Agaus
betake themselves when they are driven out of the plain, where it is
almost impossible to find them and certain ruin to pursue them. This
people increases extremely, every man being allowed so many wives
as he hath hundreds of cows; and it is seldom that the hundreds are
required to be complete.

“In the eastern part of this kingdom, on the declivity of a
mountain, whose descent is so easy that it seems a beautiful plain,
is that source of the Nile which has been sought after at so much
expense of labour, and about which such variety of conjectures hath
been formed without success. This spring, or rather these two springs,
are two holes, each about two feet diameter, a stone’s cast distant
from each other. The one is but about five feet and a half in depth,
at least we could not get our plummet farther, perhaps because it
was stopped by roots, for the whole place is full of trees. Of the
other, which is somewhat less, with a line of ten feet we could
find no bottom, and were assured by the inhabitants that none ever
had been found. It is believed here that these springs are the vent
of a great subterraneous lake; and they have this circumstance to
favour their opinion, that the ground is always moist, and so soft
that the water boils up underfoot as one walks upon it: this is more
visible after rains, for then the ground yields and sinks so much,
that I believe it is chiefly supported by the roots of trees that
are interwoven one with another. Such is the ground round about these
fountains. At a little distance to the south is a village named Guix,
through which the way lies to the top of the mountain, from whence
the traveller discovers a vast extent of land, which appears like a
deep valley, though the mountain rises so imperceptibly that those
who go up or down it are scarce sensible of any declivity.

“On the top of this mountain is a little hill, which the idolatrous
Agaus have in great veneration. Their priest calls them together
at this place once a year; and having sacrificed a cow, throws the
head into one of the springs of the Nile; after which ceremony every
one sacrifices a cow or more according to their different degrees
of wealth or devotion. The bones of these cows have already formed
two mountains of considerable height, which afford a sufficient
proof that these nations have always paid their adorations to this
famous river. They eat these sacrifices with great devotion, as flesh
consecrated to their deity. Then the priest anoints himself with the
grease and tallow of the cows, and sits down on a heap of straw on the
top and in the middle of a pile which is prepared. They set fire to
it, and the whole heap is consumed without any injury to the priest;
who, while the fire continues, harangues the standers by, and confirms
them in their present ignorance and superstition. When the pile is
burnt, and the discourse at an end, every one makes a large present
to the priest, which is the grand design of this religious mockery.

“To return to the course of the Nile. Its waters, after the first
rise, run to the eastward for about a musket-shot; then turning to
the north, continue hidden in the grass and weeds for about a quarter
of a league, and discover themselves for the first time among some
rocks; a sight not to be enjoyed without some pleasure by those
who have read the fabulous accounts of this stream delivered by the
ancients, and the vain conjectures and reasonings which have been
formed upon its original, the nature of its water, its cataracts,
and its inundations, all which we are now entirely acquainted with,
and eye witnesses of.”[89]

The Nile “rolls away from its source with so inconsiderable a
current that it appears unlikely to escape being dried up by the hot
season, but soon receiving an increase from the Gemma, the Kelta,
the Bransu, and other less rivers, it is of such a breadth in the
plain of Boad, which is not above three days’ journey from its
source, that a ball shot from a musket will scarce fly from one bank
to the other. Here it begins to run northward, deflecting, however,
a little towards the east, for the space of nine or ten leagues; and
then enters the so much talked of lake of Dambia” (Tsana), “called
by the natives Barhar Sena, the resemblance of the sea, or Barhar
Dambia, the sea of Dambia. It crosses this lake only at one end, with
so violent a rapidity that the waves of the Nile” (Abai) “may
be distinguished through all the passage, which is six leagues.[90]
Here begins the greatness of the Nile. Fifteen miles farther, in the
land of Alata, it rushes precipitately from the top of a high rock,
and forms one of the most beautiful waterfalls in the world. I passed
under it without being wet, and resting myself there for the sake of
the coolness, was charmed with a thousand delightful rainbows which
the sunbeams painted on the water in all their shining and lively
colours. The fall of this mighty stream, from so great a height,
makes a noise that may be heard to a considerable distance. . . . The
mist that rises from this fall of water may be seen much farther than
the noise can be heard. After this cataract, the Nile again collects
its scattered stream among the rocks which seem to be disjoined in
this place only to afford it a passage. They are so near each other,
that, in my time, a bridge of beams, on which the whole Imperial
army passed, was laid over them. Sultan Segued[91] hath since built
here a bridge of one arch in the same place, for which purpose he
procured masons from India” (_i.e._ the Portuguese Indies).[92]
“This bridge, which is the first the Abyssinians have seen on the
Nile, very much facilitates a communication between the provinces,
and encourages commerce among the inhabitants of his Empire.”

Bruce’s description of the source of the Abai differs somewhat
from that given by Father Lobo. It is brief, and as an exceptional
interest attaches to the spot, it may not be superfluous to quote it.

“Half undressed as I was, by loss of my sash, and throwing my
shoes off” (as he had been directed to do in order to conform to a
superstitious usage of the natives), “I ran down the hill towards
the little island of green sods, which was about two hundred yards
distant; the whole side of the hill was thick grown with flowers,
the large bulbous roots[93] of which appearing above the surface
of the ground, and their skins coming off upon treading upon them,
occasioned me two very severe falls before I reached the brink of
the marsh. I after this came to the altar of green turf, which was in
form of an altar apparently the work of art, and I stood in rapture
over the principal fountain, which rises in the middle of it.”[94]

Bruce talked with “the Shum, the priest of the river, whose title
was Kefla Abai, or ‘Servant of the river.’ He was a man of about
seventy. The honourable charge which he possessed had been in his
family, he conceived, from the beginning of the world; and as he was
the happy father of eighty-four children, it appeared that his race
was likely to flow as long as the Nile itself. He had a long white
beard; round his body was wrapped a skin, which was fastened by a
broad belt. Over this he wore a cloak, the hood of which covered
his head, his legs were bare, but he wore sandals, which he threw
off as soon as he approached the bog from which the Nile” (Abai)
“rises—a mark of respect which Bruce and his attendants were
also required to perform.” The Shum very obligingly presented his
comely and sprightly daughter Irepone, aged sixteen, to the Scottish
traveller as housekeeper.

Bruce says that at this time the people of the place called the
Spirit of the River “The Everlasting God, Light of the World, Eye
of the World, God of Peace, Saviour and Father of the Universe.”
He asked the Shum if he had ever seen the Spirit, and the old man
answered without hesitation, “Yes, very frequently.”[95]

The Abai mentioned above is the main tributary of the Blue Nile,
but a glance at the map will show that Lake Tsana receives many other
rivers, and the surrounding mountains, of course, add the volume of
innumerable torrents and small streams to its waters in the rainy
season. For practical purposes the source of the Blue Nile is the
lake fed by all the affluents which collectively determine the amount
of the discharge into the river.

To return to the camp at Bahardar Georgis. The survey work of
the expedition was now completed, and our subsequent stages were
upon the homeward journey. On February 3 we visited the village
church. I obtained a clear photograph of some of the paintings in
the interior. Unfortunately, as I am no archæologist, I cannot
pretend to say whether the clothing of St. George, either in his
combat or his victorious return, or the conception of the other
figures, gives an indication of the origin of the Abyssinian school
of ecclesiastical art. I hope that some of my readers who are better
informed may be able to throw light upon the subject. It is, perhaps,
of considerable interest for the following reason: If the usages of
the Abyssinian church, which is strictly conservative, represent a
really primitive form of Christianity, they show that the observance
of ritual ceremonies was, in the early days, at least as much a
matter of concern as the condition of the individual conscience. And
the style of the Abyssinian pictures of sacred subjects may help to
determine the date when the accepted liturgy took its present form.

In the afternoon the guns of the party added some venison, poultry,
and game to the larder, and in the evening we were serenaded—against
our will and at our expense. A band of singers and dancers from the
village—both men and women—came into camp. They had no intention
of showing their skill without remuneration, and as it would have
caused ill-will among them and disappointment to our own boys and
escort if we had sent them away, we endured their performance and
paid for it. One of the instruments which they use is a piece of
board, over which strings are stretched, so that it looks like a
rude archaic forerunner of the violin. They twang the strings with
their fingers, but do not “stop” them to obtain different notes
from the same string. Our troupe also played the tomtom and sang in
the high nasal voice which is characteristic of the race. We heard
the last of them, thankfully, at half-past nine.

While we were at Bahardar Georgis, the Waitos near our camp drove a
brisk trade in courbashes.[96] I bought of them some hippo tusks,
which they were glad to sell, as they live in great poverty. If I
had had some more small change (salt) I could have purchased a quite
considerable stock.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH AT BAHARDAR GEORGIS.

_See p._ 153.]

Insects are an annoying pest in this part of the lake side. Hosts
of mosquitoes and small beetles of a peculiar species appeared on
the flat ground at sunset, and swarmed throughout the neighbourhood
for an hour afterwards. The beetles settled upon us in throngs, and
crawled into our noses and ears and under our clothes, and we could
not even crush them on account of the unendurable smell which their
bodies then gave forth. When the first hour after sundown is past, the
temperature falls very rapidly, and one sees no more of these insects.

On February 4 we started to complete the circuit of the lake and reach
Delgi by way of the Zegi peninsula. Our road lay across flat land,
bordered by marshes and full of swamps and quagmires. Sometimes the
marshes stretch a long way into the land, and long detours had to be
made to avoid them. I saw yams for the first time in Abyssinia growing
just above the swampy tracts in this region. We had to cross three
rivers with rocky beds, which were made rougher and more slippery
by loose stones. To add to our difficulties, our guide twice led
us out of the right path, and once to a ford which was impassable
for the donkeys. In this way we lost nearly three hours. At lunch
time we sent the baggage-train on ahead of us. The latter part of
the journey was over a beaten track, and gave us no trouble. We
overtook the baggage animals and their escort just as they entered
the undulating ground which forms the approach to the peninsula of
Zegi. We pitched our camp near the shore of a little bay of which
this promontory was the further boundary.

While we were on the road I received a scribbled note from Crawley,
who told me that one of his soldiers was ill, had lain down and
refused to move. I rode back at his request, and found the invalid
under a tree. He said, “Leave me alone. I want to die.” It was
evident at a glance that he was suffering from ague. The only remedy
which we had at hand was chartreuse. I gave him a big “nip” of
the cordial, and it had an excellent effect upon him. He was able
to ride to the end of the journey, and was none the worse for the
effort. I venture to commend this incident to the consideration of
strict teetotalers.

The village near which we were encamped is that which is marked as
Furje on Stecker’s map. The district affords a curious example
of feudal tenure in Abyssinia. We had quitted Tecla Haimanot’s
dominions, and the land on which our camp stood was under the
control of a certain chief called Fituari[97] Ali, a feudatory
of Ras Mangousha. He dwelt close to the town of Zegi, but had no
jurisdiction within its boundary, though his lordship was valid in
a region extending beyond the town to the Abai.

The chieftain had gone to attend the marriage of Ras Mangousha’s
daughter, and had left his son in authority. So we sent a messenger
with an escort to carry the news of our arrival to this young Habash
with due formality. He brought back an uncivil reply to the effect
that the Fituari’s son was absent, and if we wanted anything we
had better go and find him. This was sent by his majordomo. While we
were waiting for tea to be served, Johannes reported that the young
Habash was approaching, and we saw him at a little distance attended
by a band of followers, some of whom carried guns. Our interpreter
asked what he should say to this truculent young man, and we bade
him explain that we only asked leave to pass through the land, and
should require nothing unless it were to purchase a little grain
for our animals. We always sought to avoid trouble with the natives,
and therefore impressed upon Johannes that he should show we wished
to be friendly, and say we hoped the Fituari’s son would come and
have a drink with us.

Johannes departed with his message, and presently we heard
a great hubbub—many Habashes talking at once at the top of
their high-pitched voices. We wondered what gave rise to so much
excitement. Presently Johannes emerged from the crowd and approached
us slowly. The young man’s answer was that he would speak with us
when he had seen the King’s letter. Now, this permit and all our
credentials had been dispatched on February 1 from Bahardar Georgis
to Ras Mangousha that we might obtain his leave to travel through
his territories beyond the Abai, and we did not expect our messenger
to return until late on the following day.

It was an uncomfortable situation. The Ras’s reply might be
unfavourable. In that case we should be confronted by the necessity
of retracing our steps over the whole of the toilsome journey by
the lake side. We all longed to kick the tiresome coxcomb who was
in our way, and went to dinner in a glum mood.

We were obliged to spend the following day (Feb. 5) in inaction
awaiting the return of our messenger with Ras Mangousha’s answer. I
busied myself with the camera, having every reason to believe that
no photographs of this tract of country had ever been taken.

During the morning we received a visit from the head man of Zegi. We
thought it a favourable sign that he gave us a very pleasant and
courteous welcome. This young man, Hyli by name, was about nineteen
years of age. I learned afterwards that he was studying the ancient
Geez language under the tuition of the priests of Zegi, and presume
that he intended to “go into the Church.” These candidates for
orders are not permitted to smoke or drink strong liquor while they
are _in statu pupillari_. A similar restriction would scarcely be
popular in our own ancient universities.

Hyli, we found, had a large consignment of coffee to send to the
market at Gallabat. It is his business to collect the dues payable
on this produce before it leaves the village, and the revenue so
obtained is handed to Ras Mangousha. Hyli had now come to request
that his caravan might join ours during the journey through the
“rain-country”—that borderland between Abyssinia and the Soudan,
which, as I have said, is infested by bandits. We had every reason to
win friends where we could, and every wish to please the young Habash,
so we consented willingly. He told us that the coffee was already at
Delgi, and that he had been informed of the date of our arrival at
that village, at Korata and at Woreb, and had been looking forward
to our coming for a month past. In the evening he sent us a present
of flour and fowls.

After this visit, I walked to the township of Zegi. It is surrounded
by a thick hedge of incense-bush, and this forms the boundary
between the Fituari’s jurisdiction and Hyli’s. Zegi very closely
resembles Korata. It consists of groups of tokhuls scattered among
small, square enclosures where the coffee bushes grow apparently
untended. These plantations, with the cottages and churches among
them, cover the whole promontory. I should estimate the population,
when I saw the place, at about three thousand souls.

Dr. Stecker’s account of his visit to the town is brief and
interesting, and I quote it. I saw nothing of the stone dwellings
which he describes, and think they must have been replaced by straw
tokhuls since 1881. He wrote:—

“On June 7 I made a _tankoa_-journey to the peninsula of Zegi,
and climbed to the highest peak, Tekla Haimanot (2074 metres above
sea-level, according to barometrical measurement), which afforded
extremely important survey-bearings.” The traveller then mentions
his visit to Livlivo, Adina, and the island of Dek, and adds, “The
Zegi peninsula is especially famed for its coffee plantations. Some
coffee-trees are as much as a metre in girth. The coffee is mostly
exported to Metemmeh” (Gallabat), “less goes to Massowah, but
it is not considered so good as that of Korata. Besides coffee the
_Ensete_ banana flourishes here conspicuously, and also the edible
species (_Musa Ensete edulis_); but, unfortunately, in recent years
these charming plantations have been almost entirely destroyed by a
species of pig called _Assama_ (_potamochoerus penicillatus_),[98]
which is found here in hundreds. This remarkable animal feeds
almost entirely on the roots of these fine bananas. What struck
me here particularly was the neatness of the tokhuls, which are
chiefly of stone, and in general all villages on Lake Tsana have a
much cleanlier and more pleasant appearance than those inland. There
is no lack of clergy on the Zegi Peninsula: there are here no fewer
than seven churches with twelve hundred priests and defterers.”[99]
I am bound to say that I saw no indication during my brief stay that
the population was deplorably priest-ridden!

I was returning to camp about four o’clock in the afternoon,
and was still at some distance from it when I met a Habash, who
made me understand by signs that our messenger had brought the
Ras’s letter, and as I hastened on I noticed that the news was
already public property. Upon reaching camp I saw our man, grimy
and travel-stained. He and a companion, with one mule to ride, had
covered about a hundred and thirty miles in four days over very rough
country, and they had waited while the Ras attended to our business;
so they had not let the grass grow under their feet. I felt sorry
for the mule. Walda Mariam had had charge of this business. We had
given him one day’s rest at Bahardar Georgis after his return with
Tecla Haimanot’s message, and then dispatched him on this second
journey. It is expected of these runners, when they are in charge of
a missive from the Negus or a great chief, that they shall not sleep
till they have delivered it. The man bowed low, and handed the Ras’s
letters to me in a manner which showed that he now made me responsible
for their custody. I then learned, by the aid of an Arab interpreter,
that the chief’s reply was of the most favourable kind, and that he
had sent mandates to all concerned to give us every furtherance on
our way round the lake. He also inquired very courteously about our
health and our progress, and had sent a soldier from his own guard as
a special escort for the party. The Ras, moreover, had even furnished
us with letters to chiefs through whose lands we should not pass on
the road to Delgi, to be used in case we wished to turn aside from
the way and visit the _hinterland_ of the lake district. And, best
of all, there was a communication addressed to Fituari Ali’s son,
enjoining upon him that he should show us every civility. Johannes,
who had been absent from camp when the messenger arrived, had returned
by the time my companions came back from an excursion. The despatches
were then interpreted to them in French, and we enjoyed the prospect
of our enemy’s discomfiture. It was resolved that the mandate to
him should be delivered on the following morning. I noticed that
the Habashes did not appear to make common cause with Ali’s son,
but seemed pleased at our success. Among the Ras’s letters was one
to Hyli, which we sent to him immediately, though it was scarcely
required in his case. Zody was the bearer of it.




                              CHAPTER XI


February the 6th was a market-day in Zegi. In the morning we mounted
our mules and went to visit St. George’s Church. Hyli was studying
in the theological school attached to this round, thatched place
of worship, which resembled in all respects the others that we had
seen in the country. When the Chief Priest had received a suitable
offering, our Abyssinian friend took us to his house, and here, for
courtesy’s sake, we were obliged to drink _tedj_—a vile, bitter
draught. We had escaped it on other occasions. The composition of it
has been mentioned elsewhere. Hyli was very anxious that we should
stay and eat a meal with him—doubtless it would have consisted
chiefly of raw meat smothered with red pepper and sour _teff_
bread—but we managed to excuse ourselves from this ordeal. On our
way back to camp we passed through the market-place, which was now
thronged. I do not know whether any European had been seen there
before; but in any case we were objects of the utmost curiosity,
and the people pressed around us so thickly that we had a difficulty
in making our way through them.

In the afternoon I returned to the market for the purpose of obtaining
snap-shots. It is held on the top of a stretch of rising ground,
under the shadow of some half a dozen big trees. Under each tree was
a large stone. On market-days a priest from each of the different
churches stands on the stone allotted to his parish. These men are
striking figures, clad in their ecclesiastical vesture, of which
a large white turban and a shama with a broad red border are the
conspicuous features. The parishioners from the different districts
squat around their pastor near the stone, and the priest takes
tithe in kind upon the spot when any member of his flock completes a
purchase or a sale. Our people bought some grain and two sheep. The
ruling prices were: for an ox (without the hide), seven shillings;
for a sheep, two shillings.

[Illustration: MARKET DAY AT ZEGI.

_See p._ 162.]

In one of the photographs which I obtained, the curious plaits in
which the married women wear their hair are clearly shown. Stern
thus describes the manner in which the _coiffure_ is preserved
from disarrangement at night. “The woman whose hair has undergone
the tedious process of plaiting, must also have it protected from
becoming dishevelled while she sleeps; and as this cannot so easily
be done in a country where a bullock’s hide or a mat forms the bed,
necessity has contrived a bowl-shaped stool, in which the neck is
wedged. . . . In Abyssinia, where the women are particularly proud of
their copper-coloured charms, very few, even on a journey and with
fifty pounds weight on their backs, will forget to take the wooden
pillow and the hollow grease-filled gourd,” from the contents of
which the hair is “dressed.”[100]

I purchased a leopard’s skin in the market for a dollar, but it was
not a good specimen. During the afternoon I received a visit from
another Abyssinian artist, who presented me with two pictures in
return for a black lead-pencil and a part of a blue one. And I had
a constant stream of patients, who claimed attention very freely. I
am bound to say that the maladies from which the majority of them
suffered fully justified the allegation of Dr. Stecker, to which I
have already referred.

The letter from the Ras to the Fituari’s son was delivered early in
the morning. In the evening we heard that no sooner had he received
it than he disappeared, and nobody seemed to know his whereabouts. No
doubt it was his intention to declare afterwards that he had not
been in the village when we arrived. If his conduct came to the
Ras’s knowledge, I have little doubt the vainglorious youth was
flogged—this has been the penalty inflicted on other Habashes
who have shown rudeness to travellers provided with the King’s
safe-conduct letter.

Our tents at Zegi were in a pleasant position, under a spreading fig
tree; these trees are found throughout Abyssinia and in the “rain
country,” and give abundant shade. I have never seen them growing
thickly, in a clump.

We made an early start on the morning of February the 7th, and trotted
ahead at a good speed, as the donkeys were very fresh after their
rest. The country is similar to that which we traversed in approaching
Zegi. At eleven o’clock we reached the bank of the Abai. At the
ford where we were to cross, it is a broad river, more than a hundred
yards in width, as I should judge. The water was running in a fairly
rapid current, and I was told that the stream is perennial. The banks
of the river are steep, and the bed is stony. The water, at that
season of the year, was almost clear. But during the rains, when the
stream is in flood, it brings down vast quantities of the deposits
of the white ants and other detritus. The flat island of Dek has been
formed by siltage of alluvial soil thus brought, and it is matter in
solution which renders the course of the Abai traceable in Lake Tsana.

At the ford we found that the water came just above a man’s
knee. The crossing gave us little trouble, and there was no serious
mishap. The larger loads and our valises—of the “Wolseley”
pattern—were wetted, but the sun soon dried them. One donkey
collapsed, and fell with his burden into the stream about two yards
from the further bank; but there were many to help, and he was soon
put on his feet again. He was not carrying anything which would be
ruined by a soaking. The rise beyond the ford was steep, and the
drippings from the wet animals made it slippery, so we had to throw
earth on it to give them a foothold, as in crossing the Gelda.

After passing the Abai, we entered a flat district full of the long
dry grass, of which we had seen so much on the north side of the
lake. The country hereabouts is full of the kind of gazelle called
_oribi_. We had not elsewhere in Abyssinia found these creatures
in herds. Game birds abound in this region, which appeared to be
almost deserted. We passed scarcely any villages, and those which
we saw consisted of only five or six huts.

Our camping-ground was an open space not far from a papyrus swamp. We
should not have selected this spot by choice, as the proximity of
marshy soil was a danger to health. But we were obliged to halt there
because no water was to be had for a considerable distance on the road
ahead. All around were ruins of houses built of stone, with thatched
roofs that had fallen in. The number of them showed that a town or a
large village must have existed here at one time. Stone dwellings are
not usual in this region, and I inquired what the name of the place
was and tried to learn its history, but could get no information.

Dupuis and Crawley went out with their rifles, and added three
oribis to the store in the larder. I stayed in camp “on duty,”
and after treating a patient sat reading outside my tent. My servant
rushed up to me, and said that I was wanted to shoot a snake that
had crept under some brushwood. I hastened to unpack my gun and
ran after the boy, and soon came to where our men, in a state of
great excitement, had formed a cordon round a patch of dry grass,
to which they had set fire. Finally the snake came out, and all our
fellows shouted at it. They were in mortal terror of it, as a fact,
and certainly it looked “an ugly customer.” It was too big to be
stopped by shot unless I could make sure of hitting it in the head,
and this I was not able to manage before it crawled under a saddle
belonging to one of the soldiers. The saddle was lifted by the aid
of a long pole, and in a moment the snake’s head was smashed by
the same means. I measured it, and found that it was just over two
yards in length. The back was brown and the belly white, and the
skull had the typical shape of the adder family. Generally speaking,
we saw fewer reptiles in Abyssinia than we had expected.

After this incident, I strolled round the camp with my gun, and
presently noticed a little grey animal scampering among the stones
of a ruined house. It was of the same colour exactly as the stones,
but presently I believed I could discern an eye, and, being anxious
to ascertain what creature it was, took aim and fired. I walked up
to the spot but found nothing, looked around and wondered how the
animal could have vanished. At the moment I heard the rustling of a
leaf beyond the tumbledown wall on the left, and, guided by the sound,
discovered the animal just dead. It was a specimen of the hyrax—an
interesting creature to biologists, which Huxley described as “the
type of a distinct order, in many respects intermediate between the
_Ungulata_, on the one hand, and _Rodentia_ and _Insectivora_ on
the other.”[101] It is found only in Syria and Africa. I thought
the skin worth preserving, and one of the soldiers flayed it for me.

On Sunday, February 8, our road lay, for the most part, at some little
distance from the lake, which was out of sight till the end of the
journey. We plodded on through long grass and past burnt patches. The
track is only about a foot wide, and in consequence the loads of the
donkeys extended beyond it on either side. When they were among the
tall growth they had to sweep it aside from their burden as they went,
and this tired them greatly.

We reached the edge of the lake at two o’clock, after an unbroken
journey of six and a half hours, and pitched our camp. About two
hundred yards from the shore five hippos were standing, well clear
of the water. They looked for all the world like rocks, even when we
brought field-glasses to bear on them. After lunch Crawley had the
Berthon boat put together, and I rowed him towards the hippos. When we
were within a hundred yards of them, I considered that the range was
quite short enough to give the marksman an opportunity of displaying
his skill, and he got no nearer. He began practice at once, but the
boat was pitching rather sharply, and this made aiming with the
rifle almost chance-work. Presently the sport became like firing
at disappearing targets, for the hippos rose only once in two or
three minutes to breathe. If they had taken my friend seriously,
we should probably not have left Lake Tsana, and I felt relieved
when he had had enough of the pastime and we rowed ashore.

Various small offerings of milk and bread reached us from the hamlets
around. The milk is always sour. The Habashes do not drink it when
it is fresh, and as a consequence they never wash the gourds in which
they keep it, because it “turns” sooner in a dirty receptacle. At
a few places we were able to have the cows brought into camp, and
stored the milk in our own vessels, but this was impossible when we
only remained one night on a camping-ground.

That evening Johannes, the interpreter, had a touch of fever. On
the previous night his tent had been close to the papyrus swamp,
and this, no doubt, accounted for the attack.

On the following day, February 9, our road lay through more broken
country and more pleasing scenery. The track led us up hills, and
down them, and between them, and sometimes close beside the lake. I
saw no trees in this region but mimosas; the ground was covered
in places by mimosa scrub, in others by dry grass. We made a march
of seventeen miles, as we reckoned, a longer distance than we had
travelled on the previous day. The donkeys were tired out at the
end of the journey. Some stood still and refused to move, others
lay down under their burdens in the path. We camped on the shore
of the lake, at a spot very similar to that which we had chosen for
our last halting-place.

The interpreter’s fever had yielded considerably to the usual
quinine treatment, and he seemed very little the worse for his long
ride in the heat.

In the evening the wind rose and presently blew hard enough to make
me wonder whether my tent would collapse or not. I observed that
very soon enough wash was knocked up in the deeper water to stop
the headway of a rowing-boat. The lake would be a perfect place for
fishing and sailing in the dry season. But without experience and
watchfulness, risks would arise—quite apart from the humours of
the hippopotami.[102]

On Tuesday, February 10, after a journey of about twelve miles through
tall grass that impeded our baggage-train, we reached the village of
Delgi, and pitched our camp upon the same ground which we had chosen
for our first halting-place beside the lake. To the best of my belief,
we were the only Europeans who had ever completed the circuit of this
lovely reservoir of the Nile—the distance in all is one hundred
and sixty to one hundred and seventy miles. Those who love regions
beyond the outposts of our civilization, where the tourist ceases
from troubling, could not seek isolation amid sweeter surroundings
than this sunlit lake, these tropical mountains, and the quaint,
quiet hamlets of a primitive people, who as yet, thank Heaven,
have not been infected with “Yankee hustle.”

The level of the surface of the water had sunk perceptibly since we
were here a month ago, and many rocks were now visible which had then
been covered. But I do not think the variation between the maximum
height in the rainy season and the minimum in the dry is very great;
I doubt if it exceeds eight or ten feet.

At midday we noticed that the climate into which we had come in the
north-west corner of the lake was distinctly warmer than that of the
other parts. We remembered the Soudan, towards which our faces were
set, and knew that in the heat there we should think longingly of the
waterside, in spite of all the worries inseparable from travelling
in Abyssinia.

The “Sultan” of Delgi came to camp to welcome us as soon as
he heard of our arrival. It was pleasant to meet this cheery,
genial old Habash again, and his visit put us in good spirits. He
brought us a couple of chickens and some bread, and we showed our
hospitality by offering him chartreuse. He drank half a pint at a
draught without “turning a hair,” seemed none the worse for it,
and wanted more. A man who remains sober after that performance must
have a sound head and a strong body, but I do not recommend even
the hardiest of my readers to attempt the feat. The Abyssinians who
survive have inured their stomachs to excesses of abstinence from
food as well as gluttonous excesses, an unwholesome and repulsive
diet and the abuse of condiments, and they have constitutions _à
toute épreuve_. I may mention that the children, who would be the
first to suffer from bad climatic conditions, and the women seemed,
as a body, fairly healthy, though they eat raw flesh like the men
and suffer from the consequent parasitical trouble.

Nothing was mentioned or seen of the “Deputy” who had tried to
prevent us from reaching the lake. But we made kindly inquiry for
the “Sultan’s” wife, who had shown us goodwill and sent us
bread and _tedj_ on our first arrival, and were glad to hear that
the lady was in good health. At nightfall we saw that the grass was
blazing in two places, and it was interesting to observe with what
extraordinary swiftness the flames ran over the ground when the
breeze from the lake fanned them.

[Illustration: INTERVIEWING THE SULTAN OF DELGI.

_See p._ 170.]

[Illustration: THE SULTAN OF DELGI, AN OLD PRIEST, AND SLAVE CARRYING
THE SHIELD.

_See p._ 170.]

We had determined to show our liking for the “Sultan” by treating
him handsomely when we gave the customary presents. He came into
camp next day (February 11) as soon as we had finished breakfast,
and we arranged the gifts on the table. They were a revolver, a
folding-chair, a bottle of chartreuse, and a red silk cummerbund for
his consort. He appeared to be well pleased and thanked us, through
Johannes, with all the formalities of the country. We suggested
that he should come for a row in the Berthon boat, but he backed
out of this immediately. Then he had his new folding-chair carried
to the shore, and sat there surrounded by his bodyguard, a force
which would have had a great success in a pantomime. He followed
our movements with much interest while we put the boat together,
but he was plainly apprehensive when Crawley tested in still water
the electric current-meter which he had used in calculating the
outflow from the lake into the Blue Nile. It made a buzzing noise,
and I think he suspected that it might “go off” at any moment. He
remarked that it was _a watch_ for the water, but he soon retired,
followed by his comedians under arms.

Everything in camp that could be cleaned in water was washed in the
lake during the day, and the ground near our tents looked like an
improvised laundry. It was strewn in all directions with articles
spread out to dry. Those boys who had no change of garments, stayed
in the water while their clothes were aired in the sunshine, and
enjoyed it.

Both Christians and Mussulmans received an ox on this day in order
that they might make biltong for the journey. We bought flour and
grain and sheep and fowls, and laid in as large a stock of provisions
as we could carry for use in the uninhabited borderland between
Delgi and Gallabat.

February 12 was our last day beside Lake Tsana, and the prospect of
leaving it filled me with regret. The “Sultan” came into camp
again, and in answer to one or two questions gave us the following
information: that the rainfall on the margin of the lake in the wet
season is not great; the heavy rains descend upon the heights around,
and the floods are carried down the rivers and khors in overwhelming
torrents, so that all the watercourses are then impassable. This
circumstance, of course, has a very important bearing on the
possibility of a commercial development of the region.

Before quitting the subject, I will bring to the reader’s notice
Dr. Stecker’s thoughtful conclusions as to the present relation
of the River Abai to Lake Tsana:—

“I made another extremely interesting discovery in the Gorgora
mountains, viz. of a remarkable shell, which by its character reminds
one of the oyster.[103] We found both the shells and the living
creatures in abundance on the shore. With lemon juice they taste like
genuine oysters. But it is remarkable that I had already found this
species in the Blue Nile, and that I found it later on the island of
Dek, enclosed in unmistakable volcanic rock (tuff). I can only offer
this explanation, that, at a time when Lake Tsana already existed,
a great eruption took place in the south. According to my view the
lake had its origin in tertiary times as a consequence of a great
volcanic movement in the north (at the Gorgora range). The Abai,
which was previously an unimportant stream, and described the great
curve which is indicated on my map by arrows, and now carries it
round Dek and Dega, was forced in consequence to the south-western
and southern shores, though its original course can still be
traced quite distinctly. The second volcanic movement took place,
according to my opinion, in the south, and the islands of Dek[104]
and Dega in Lake Tsana owe their origin to it, as do a whole series
of islands beside the eastern shore of the lake and the masses of
rock of volcanic origin which encumber the course of the Blue Nile
and lie scattered in the whole valley of that river.”[105]

The moon was full that night, and the lake and the mountains formed
a glorious scene, which left in the mind a longing to behold it
again. Lake Tsana has that haunting, attractive power which some
places possess, and which prompts one to return to them in spite of
all that commonsense says about obstacles and discomfort.

On February 13 we made an early start upon our return journey to the
Soudan, and reached the top of the plateau at half-past ten. We saw
nothing, after all, of Hyli’s men; I did not hear why they failed
to join us. As we now retraced our steps over the same ground that we
had traversed on the way to the lake, I shall not give any detailed
account of our progress. In one day’s journey we covered a distance
which had given us an arduous two days’ climb on the upward march,
and we came again into the region of the Soudanese heat. The sequence
of vegetation according to altitude was strikingly apparent during
the descent. Throughout the first half of it we were in the cactus
country, then in the bamboo zone, and, finally, among the mimosas and
desert scrub. The heat proved trying to man and beast. We Europeans
felt fagged and dull; I had three fever patients among our followers
in the evening; and the donkeys straggled into camp jaded and spent.

An incident of the journey will show the nature of the road. A little
while after we had passed the long and narrow gorge which has already
been described, I caught sight of my valise and some other luggage
stacked on a bank. Upon asking why it was there, I found that the
donkey which had carried the load had slipped from the path and had
fallen and rolled about ninety or a hundred feet. The beast seemed
none the worse for the adventure, and the boys were bringing up the
baggage piecemeal from the ledge which had stopped the donkey. I
have no doubt that its burden saved it; a rider might have performed
the same service if his remains had kept in place. A mirror and a
candle-globe which “accomplished the descent” were not injured.

In spite of the steepness and roughness of the path—the mountains
are genuine _sierras_ (saws)—I believe that no great trouble and
expense would be needed to make this approach to Western Abyssinia
easy and safe, but it would be impossible for camels.

On the following day we reached the banks of the River Gerar, on
which there is a thick growth of bamboos. Many of these had fallen
across the track. We were not so much impeded by them as we should
have been but for our previous experience of this part of the road. We
sent men ahead with axes to clear the path as well as they could. In
the evening we lost one of our baggage animals for the first time;
two donkeys fell on the road exhausted. We left them while we moved
on into camp, in the hope that they would recover. One was brought in
later, but the other was found to be in such a helpless and pitiable
state that nothing remained but to put it out of its misery, and it
was shot. Our camp was beside the hot springs which have already
been mentioned. We found in the neighbouring huts apparently the
same company that we had seen on the upward journey. I was not able
to learn anything about the people.

On the following day we left the valley of the Gerar, crossed a high
ridge, and then followed the course of the Shemal Warhar. When we
reached the place where we had pitched our camp before, we found the
trees charred and the ground blackened by fire. There was no shade,
and the water in the pools was very low. So we marched about three
miles to another camping-ground called Ananta. Here water and shade
were plentiful.

On February 16 we reached the bank of the Gundar Warhar. From
midday till three o’clock the thermometer showed a temperature
of 98° F. We had now entered the region in which robber bands are
active. On the 17th we passed two parties of traders and heard from
them our first news of the world outside Abyssinia. This was that
Slatin Pasha had arrived at Gallabat on a tour of inspection. We
thought of Gallabat—by contrast—as a centre of civilization. Our
halting-place was a pleasant, shady spot beside the river-bed,
in which water was abundant. In the afternoon Crawley shot a
water-buck. I secured a much smaller prize in the form of another
civet-cat. We heard that a large crocodile had been seen in a pool
about two hundred yards from camp, but saw nothing of the beast. At
night we were much plagued by mosquitoes and the beetles which
swarm on one and do not bite, but are malodorous in death—a most
perplexing pest.

On the 18th the temperature rose to 101° F. in the shade. We made a
short march, but one of our donkeys succumbed and had to be left for
the vultures. We found that the grass about our former camping-ground
had been trodden down and a part of it burned. The water, too, was
much lower in the pools, the dry season being now far advanced,
though it was still abundant to meet all the requirements likely
to arise in that country before the rains. At this time of the year
the trees cast their leaves, so that there is much less shade along
the track. On the 19th we reached the “warsha,” which is the
first from Gallabat on the road to Abyssinia and the last on the
return journey. The ground was in a filthy state, and it was evident
that many people had encamped at the place since we left it. Water
was plentiful; it was drawn from a deep pool. To our horror, just
as we had settled to rest in our chairs, we saw some of our boys
and camp-followers washing their persons and their clothes in the
water which we were to drink! One of them was a leprous trader. We
raised some first-class trouble about this, and posted a sentry
by the pool. But all we could do was to boil and filter the water
thoroughly—and think of the other people who had bathed in it since
we last tasted it. On Friday, February 20, we arrived at Gallabat.

I will not dilate on the traveller’s delight in seeing again a
batch of envelopes addressed to him in familiar handwriting. It is
one of the pleasures which is becoming rare, but a trip into Western
Abyssinia still provides an opportunity for it. In the town I met
the Doctor of Kassala. He was then making a tour of inspection with
the object of discovering cases of leprosy. The Egyptian Government
has wisely ordained that lepers shall be compulsorily segregated;
there is a hospital for them at Gallabat, which serves as a receiving
station. An attempt is being made to form a colony of these stricken
people, where they may cultivate the land and live by their labour.

The water which we had drunk at “Warsha No. 1” punished us
rather severely for our rashness. And while suffering from this
inward infirmity, I saw the camels that were waiting to wreak their
eccentricities upon us during the remainder of the journey. It
was our intention to follow the upper course of the river Atbara
through Sofi to Kassala. This was formerly a frequented route, but
the Dervishes had destroyed all the villages that stood beside it,
and, as a consequence, the disused track had become impassable. It
was then being repaired, but the work was still some way short of
completion, and it seemed that we might be compelled, after all,
to return as we had come by the road through Gedaref. However,
our chief telegraphed to Mr. Flemming, asking him to send a gang
of men, if possible, to the spot where the track was in the worst
condition, and this he did. So we were able to carry out our plan,
and had the satisfaction of being the first travellers who journeyed
by the repaired highway from Gallabat to Kassala.

On February 22 we paid off the escort and followers who had gone
into Abyssinia with us. Johannes received as presents a revolver
and a watch, the others a gift of money. We found that nearly all
preferred a settlement by means of drafts on Colonel Harrington at
Addis Abbiba. If they carried cash through the “rain country”
they would run a great risk of losing both their money and their
lives. Before we bade farewell to Johannes, he told us that we
had on one occasion, unconsciously, been in no small danger in
Abyssinia. At a certain village a rumour was spread that King
Menelek had sold the lake to the British. The supposed transfer
was by no means to the taste of the Habashes—and we represented
the English interest. Disregarding the niceties of French grammar,
Johannes remarked that he had _beaucoup de peur_ at the time. In
our case ignorance was bliss.

On this day we said good-bye to Zodi. He had decided to return
to his own country with Johannes. We all wished that he could have
finished the journey with us, but felt that we should not be justified
in discharging him finally in a country where he was ignorant of
the language. He took his leave of us, bowing to the ground and
addressing us in his own tongue. His face bore an expression which it
is difficult to describe; he was showing his spotlessly white teeth
in a smile, but he was half crying nevertheless. I have always wished
that I could have engaged him as my servant. He was an excellent and
faithful lad, and I believe that he did us valuable service when
we were near Zegi, and the Fituari’s son was inclined to give
trouble. Zody, as a native of the lakeside (Korata), was able to
influence his neighbours on the opposite shore when a Habash from
another district might have been disregarded or set at naught.

My two companions went out with their rifles in the afternoon, and
there was no slight commotion in Gallabat when they were heard firing
at antelopes in the distance. During our absence, as I have already
mentioned, an Abyssinian band had raided two villages and carried off
thirty-eight men and boys into slavery. The noise of the discharges
made the natives think that the slave-raiders were at their work
again. The very serious political consequences which these incursions
will certainly cause sooner or later have been alluded to before.

It may interest my readers, if, before saying the last word
about Gallabat, I give a brief account of the battle which took
place there in March, 1889, between King John of Abyssinia and the
Dervishes. Perhaps no incident in modern history so strangely combines
the oriental and the mediæval atmospheres, or so oddly illustrates
the effect of weapons of precision in warfare of the biblical type. A
detailed narrative has been given by Mr. Augustus Wylde.[106]

The Dervishes had invaded Abyssinia in 1887, at a time when the
forces of the Negus were scattered. They defeated Tecla Haimanot
and devastated the region to the north of Lake Tsana. In 1888 they
renewed the invasion, but in the meanwhile the King of Godjam’s army
had been reinforced and his troops had been rearmed. The Dervishes
suffered a severe defeat. The Negus completed his preparations in the
winter of 1888-9, and gave notice to the Khalifa of his intention to
march upon Omdurman. The Dervishes massed about seventy thousand men
at Gallabat, where they occupied a large zareba which was protected
by a dyke and some redoubts. They also had artillery in the fort
where the scorpions have now become so formidable. But they were
badly supplied with small-arms, whereas King John’s men had a
plentiful stock of effective rifles of a French pattern.

The Dervish position was surrounded by the Abyssinian army. The
Khalifa’s men were crowded in their enclosure, and, owing to its
construction, could not fire from it without exposing themselves. The
Abyssinian marksmen did terrible execution, and finally a body of
King John’s horse, supported by a hot rifle-fire at short range,
burned the thorns of the zareba at several points and filled up the
ditch. The position was then “rushed,” and only a few of the
Dervishes, aided by the smoke and the confusion, escaped.

“Facing King Johannes’s bodyguard,” says Mr. Wylde, “one small
redoubt, strongly fortified and held by the black slave soldiers of
the Dervishes, still held out, and their rifle-fire was doing some
execution. The King, getting angry that it had not been taken in the
rear by the troops that had entered the sides of the fortifications,
and who were engaged in plundering, went forward to attack it with
his followers. The gaudy dresses worn by his staff, with their silver
shields and the bright silks, drew the fire of the defenders. King
Johannes was struck by a bullet that traversed the lower part of
his arm and entered the intestines near the navel, taking into the
wound a part of his dress. He still gave orders, and kept on the
field till the redoubt was rushed and those in it all killed.”

The King died about twenty-four hours after he was wounded. Quarrels
with regard to the succession immediately commenced among the Rases,
and instead of following up their victory, they retired at once
into Abyssinia with their captives and plunder, in order to serve
the interests of their respective factions.

“On the 11th, in the afternoon, old Ras Areya, the King’s uncle,
a man nearly eighty years of age, who had played a wonderful part in
Abyssinian history, was left with a few followers to bring back the
King’s body for burial. The body had been cut in half so that it
could be carried more easily, and was put in a clothes-box so that it
could be laden on a mule. Only a few of the King’s devoted servants
remained behind, with a few priests and their armed servants. On
the 12th, while following the Taccazze road, the sad and mournful
procession was overtaken by a few Dervishes and some Arabs, who
had returned on the night of the 10th to reconnoitre Gallabat, and
when they found it abandoned they had followed one of the lines of
retreat to find out what was going on and the reason the Abyssinian
victory had not been followed up.”[107]

Ras Areya could have escaped, but died, with a few of his soldiers and
the bravest of the King’s servants, defending all that remained of
his liege. He “was last seen standing alongside the box containing
the King’s body, after having expended all his ammunition, with
his shield and sword in his hands.” He was speared by a Dervish
from behind. The Khalifa made no attempt to invade Abyssinia in
force after the battle of Gallabat.

Mr. Wylde received this information from a priest who was present
and who escaped, though he was badly wounded. I was told that the
King died in a small hut, attended by two monks and four nuns, who
tried to keep his death secret, and that an old woman, a servant of
the nuns, being captured later by the Dervishes, revealed, in order
to save her life, the line of retreat of the party that was bearing
away the King’s body.

The encounter took place at night, and such a scene in the moonlight
seems more like an imagined passage in an epic than an occurrence
in the closing years of the last century. I do not know whether the
nuns accompanied Ras Areya, nor what their fate was. The Dervishes
cut off the King’s head and carried it to the Khalifa at Omdurman.

There are numerous graves around Gallabat of those who fell in
the engagement. These are mounds, on which are laid agates brought
from the bed of the Atbara. The tombs of the Soudanese have upon
them a calabash, or more usually a pair, containing grain and
water—presumably to satisfy the needs of the dead man’s shade. I
do not know how the custom of solacing the deceased thus is reconciled
with the doctrine of Islam.




                              CHAPTER XII


The valley of the River Atbara can now scarcely be regarded as
unfamiliar country. Those who wish to read a most lively, interesting
account of all the opportunities that it offers to the sportsman,
should turn to Sir Samuel Baker’s book, “The Nile Tributaries of
Abyssinia.” Our journey from Gallabat to Cairo by way of Kassala
can be quite briefly described.

In reply to our inquiry we received a telegram from Mr. Flemming, who
told us that a guide would meet our party at an appointed spot to show
us the now disused and obscured road, and on the morning of February
23 we left Gallabat. About four hours’ travelling over flat, rocky
country brought us, by an easy descent, to the Atbara. The banks
here are low, and the bed is hard and clean, with tracts of shingle
in it. The breadth of the course is about a hundred and fifty yards,
and there were large pools of clear, good water. Many of them were
deep. At this season of the year an insignificant stream trickles
from pool to pool, and sometimes disappears altogether. There are
big fish in these pools, and they need cautious handling. I took my
tackle after we had pitched our camp, landed a two-pounder, and was
“wool-gathering” a few moments afterwards when a powerful fish
seized my bait with a dash and had me off my balance in an instant;
result, a bruised knee and two hooks lost.

Next day Dupuis moved ahead of the party with his Soudanese
“Shikari,” and in a couple of hours stalked and shot a gazelle and
a bushbuck with a fine pair of horns; later in the day a haartebeest
fell to his rifle. We saw great numbers of gazelles and ariels,
and the country was full of game. The tracks left by many kinds of
animals going to and from the river were visible in all directions. In
addition, guinea-fowl were plentiful. The ground near the river was
covered with dry grass, and there was a thin but continuous growth
of mimosa scrub. The baobab tree flourishes in this region.[108]
We camped on the site of a village that had been laid waste by the
Dervishes. No vestige of it remained but potsherds.

When the flesh of the animals was being cut into strips for use as
biltong, a host of the carrion birds of all orders gathered around
us—crows, hawks, vultures, and marabous. There was something
disquieting and unpleasant in the presence of these groups of
eagerly expectant scavengers, which faced us wherever we turned,
and eyed us from every tree. That night the mosquitoes “rushed”
my curtains and made a most successful raid, retreating at sunrise
from the stricken—and bitten—field.

Shortly after we had started on February 25, I saw, at a little
distance from camp, a piece of neatly made basketwork, and picked
it up. Further on I found another. On making inquiry I was told
that these were parts of game-traps. A log is buried in the ground,
and a piece of cord with a noose at the loose end is attached to
it. Then a hole is dug where tracks of game are seen, the noose is
“set” in the hole, the basketwork is laid down to cover the trap,
and the cord is hidden by a layer of earth. When a beast steps into
the hole, the movement of the basketwork pulls the noose tight around
its leg. The more the beast struggles, the firmer the grip becomes;
finally, as a rule, the log is pulled up by its exertions, and the
hobbled creature limps away, but is easily caught, and can then be
killed as the Mohammedan rite requires.

[Illustration: HEAD OF A HAARTEBEEST.

_See p._ 184.]

[Illustration: ‘LATES NILOTICUS’ CAUGHT WITH A TROUT-ROD.

_See p._ 200.]

The track in this region is kept open by the cutting down of mimosa
scrub. It lies upon “cotton soil” with fissures in it, large
and small. The camels, which stare stupidly ahead while they walk,
are constantly stumbling on account of these holes; their legs seem
to have a marvellous instinct for finding them. Another difficulty
was the descent and ascent in numerous little khors which run down
to the river bed, and the camel is singularly clumsy when it leaves
level ground. We pitched our camp at midday on the site of another
deserted village, called Wad Abou Simam. Before that time each of
my friends had shot a waterbuck. Very sensibly, the Anglo-Egyptian
Administration imposes a fine on those who shoot the females of the
larger antelopes.

I think we must have seen hundreds of thousands of guinea-fowl
during the last two days’ journey. They were in the jungle of
mimosa scrub and neblik and on the shingle in the river bed, where
by reason of their colour they can scarcely be distinguished from
the stones; in fact, they swarmed in all directions. I took my gun
into the dry course of the Atbara and sat down near an islet which
was covered with very dry grass. This was a favourite place of
refuge for the guinea-fowl. Dupuis drove them to the bank, where
they rose, and flocks of them flew towards the little island. In
this way I had some fine practice, and the birds were always
useful in the larder. Travellers in this region should set up their
mosquito-curtains with care. I was remiss about it that night, and the
determined and virulent insects bit my scalp, face, and hands through
the covering. The next evening I was more attentive to the matter,
and formed a frame by means of four dhurra stalks. This arrangement,
with draping, had all the advantages and some of the solid dignity
of a four-post bedstead.

On the following day (February 26) we encamped at Sherafa. There was
no incident worthy of mention during the journey. In the afternoon
Dupuis and I saw a crocodile within range in the river bed, and fired
at the same moment. The only visible result was that he scuttled
into a pool and disappeared.

On the 27th Crawley brought down an ariel, but we had entered a
district in which game was much rarer. We reached a well at a place
called Tubra Cullah. This has been dug at the edge of a rock, the
water was brackish, and there was no trough for the camels. We had
now left the course of the Atbara, but had, fortunately, brought
with us water from the pools which was sufficient for the men. On
this day the temperature rose to 107° F. in the shade. The road,
which had at that time been cleared, ended at Tubra Cullah, and here
we were met by the guide whom Mr. Flemming had sent to show us the
unrepaired track between this place and Sofi.

[Illustration: HADENDOWA, CAMEL DRIVER.

_See p._ 186.]

[Illustration: DINKA BOY, CAMEL DRIVER.

_See p._ 186.]

On the following day we marched to Goratia. Our guide had
misinformed us as to the distance, which was much greater than we had
expected. The heat was scarcely endurable, and none of our marches
had been more fatiguing. How we longed for the coolness and freshness
of the lakeside! Close to the village was a well with good water and
troughs for the camels, which had not drunk for nearly forty-eight
hours. We found the inhabitants very willing to help our men. While
we were passing through Goratia the women within the huts warbled
their welcome in the usual manner and with unmistakable enthusiasm. We
learned that when our party was first sighted, a rumour spread that
we were Abyssinian raiders, and the non-combatants rushed to the
shelter of their homes. The relief of the villagers was evidently
very great when they found that we were English people.

The following instance may serve to show the difficulty which British
administrators have in suppressing the slave traffic.

A certain man, a native of the White Nile region, appeared one morning
before Colonel G. at Rosaires and said that while he was taking a
convoy of slaves into Abyssinia, he had been stopped by the sheikh
of a village in the Colonel’s district. This sheikh, he asserted,
took possession of the slaves, and bound him and his companion,
to whom they belonged. In order to keep what he had captured and
destroy those who could bring him to justice, the sheikh had the
two slave-dealers brought to a precipice and cast over it. Ono was
killed, the other escaped with whole limbs. Then he repaired to the
Governor’s quarters to report the matter.

Colonel G. ordered the sheikh to attend and bring the slaves that
he had taken. The sheikh, astounded to hear that the Moudir[109]
had learned what he had done, attributed his misfortune to the Will
of God with the usual phrase “Inshallah,”[110] and started for
the Moudirieh accompanied by the slaves. On the way he consoled
himself with the words, “God will help me” (_Rabonna effrighi_).

While he was upon the journey he met two native merchants returning to
their village, and immediately he concluded that Allah had heard his
prayer. “Um del Allah!” said he, “God is good.” He caused the
merchants to be bound, and then he had the slaves brought before him,
and made them all swear upon the Koran that these two men were they
who had raided the village and carried the people away captive. And
the merchants were forced to follow him with the slaves.

When the sheikh arrived at the Moudirieh, the Governor ordered him to
deliver up the men in whose possession he had found the slaves—and
the sheikh forthwith had the two merchants led forward. Colonel
G. was in a dilemma. Evidently the raider who had complained to
him was telling the truth, but all the slaves swore that they knew
nothing of the man. Questioning was of no avail, and did not shake
their evidence. Then the Moudir, turning suddenly to a little girl,
asked her, “Who told you to say that these two accused men raided
your village and took you away?” The little girl instantly pointed
to the sheikh and answered, “Please, sir, that man.”

This decided the matter. Some time after, the body of the
slave-dealer’s companion was found. I did not hear what befell the
sheikh, but the Moudir was not a man to be trifled with, and I have
no doubt that justice was done.

The sheikh of Goratia came into camp to greet us, and afterwards
sent us hot coffee, which was excellent. It is the most refreshing
drink of all after a tiring journey in the baking sunshine.

In this village we found a man who declared that he could act as
guide to the junction of the Atbara and the River Salaam, a point
which is of interest in connection with the all-important problem
of water-storage and distribution. It has not been sketched or
mapped—indeed, I believe that no European has yet succeeded in
reaching it, though the British officers in the Soudan have been
eager to discover the spot. My two companions arranged to start on the
following morning and endeavour to make a rough survey of the place.

At Goratia I obtained a photograph which shows clearly the amulet worn
by almost all the Soudanese. The youth who wore it had been married
about a week, and the scars on his back illustrate a singular custom
among the people. Sir Samuel Baker has described it.

“There is but little lovemaking among the Arabs. The affair of
matrimony usually commences by a present to the father of the girl,
which, if accepted, is followed by a similar advance to the girl
herself, and the arrangement is completed. All the friends of both
parties are called together for the wedding; pistols and guns are
fired off, if possessed. There is much feasting, and the unfortunate
bridegroom undergoes the ordeal of whipping by the relations of his
bride, in order to test his courage. Sometimes this punishment is
exceedingly severe, being inflicted with the coorbash or whip of
hippopotamus hide, which is cracked vigorously about his ribs and
back. If the happy husband wishes to be considered a man worth having,
he must receive the chastisement with an expression of enjoyment;
in which case the crowds of women in admiration again raise their
thrilling cry. After the rejoicings of the day are over, the bride is
led in the evening to the residence of her husband, while a beating of
drums and strumming of guitars (rhababas) are kept up for some hours
during the night, with the usual discordant idea of singing.”[111]

It is interesting to compare Mansfield Parkyns’s description of
the mode of duelling in Dongola.

“This duel is not a serious matter, but is engaged in by young
men on the slightest possible pretext, often merely to display their
manhood. An angareeb, under which a jar of beer is usually set (for
refreshment between the rounds), is placed between the combatants,
each of whom is stripped to the waist, and armed with one of the
formidable whips I have described” (coorbash). “As soon as all
is ready they begin, giving alternate stripes on each other’s
shoulders, but neither being allowed to evade or ward off a blow;
they continue this agreeable pastime for a very long time, till
one falls down exhausted from loss of blood and the punishment he
has received.”[112]

I spent a lazy day on March 1, watching the peaceful, patriarchal
life of the village, and especially the flocks and herds when they
came to the well to drink. Men, women, and boys all helped to fill
the cattle-troughs, which are made of baked mud. The surroundings
described in the book of Genesis seemed to have been preserved here
without change of any kind.

My friends did not return on March 2, as they had expected. I took
my rifle and a guide and tried to bring home an ariel, but could
not approach within three hundred yards of the game. At about that
distance one was hit, but got away. On the 3rd the guide and I went
in another direction. Creeping carefully up against the wind, I
aimed at a buck at three hundred yards’ distance. He fell forward,
burying his horns in the ground, when I fired, but was up again,
and ran in a circle and then fell once more. I rushed forward to
give him the _coup-de-grace_, but he bolted over the brow of a hill
at the top of his speed, and we lost sight of him. I wandered about
seeking for his tracks, but could not find them in that tumbled
country. Later I saw three more ariels, which ran into some dry
grass. We made a circuit, and presently came within sight of them
again. They were evidently on the alert. Under cover of a tree,
I took a steady aim and hit a buck, who limped away and lay down,
but presently rose at eighty yards distance as we advanced, and I
then killed him by a shot through the heart. We covered the body
with branches to protect it from vultures, and carried the head into
camp. I kept the skin and the head, but gave the flesh to my guide,
who was much delighted. He went out on a donkey and cut the beast up,
and distributed presents of meat among his friends.

[Illustration: SOUDANESE WITH AMULETS.

_See p._ 189.]

[Illustration: AT THE WELL, GORATIA.

_See p._ 190]

My companions returned half an hour after midday. They had had
difficulty in finding the course of the Atbara, and their camels
had been on the march eight hours when they reached it at a gorge
in coarse sandstone rock, where the river forces its way through
a narrow cleft about twenty metres wide, between cliffs rising
vertically from a profoundly deep pool. There they determined to
encamp and spend the next day in attempting to find the junction
of the rivers. To the great disappointment of all, they failed to
achieve their purpose. The country in which they were is extremely
wild. A lion had killed one of their camels in broad daylight. The
boy who was in charge of the beasts while they browsed saw the lion
creep from the thick undergrowth, spring upon the camel and crush its
skull with one blow of the paw. He screamed, and the lion walked off
into the scrub in which it had been concealed. The other camels were
terrified, and would certainly have bolted in a panic if they had
not been hobbled. At night my friends heard hyenas running within
a dozen yards of their beds.

They had been much interested in watching the huge flocks of small
birds of the linnet kind which assembled half an hour before sunset
and went to drink together in the pools of the Atbara. They come with
an undulating flight, and, small as they are, the rushing of the wind
as they beat the air makes a noise like thunder, and their numbers
darken the sky. The weight of the throngs of them which alight at
a time bends down the ends of the overhanging branches and twigs to
the level of the water. I had seen these flocks many times, and the
cunning trick which the crocodile uses in preying upon them. This
was a point of Soudanese natural history which did not escape the
observation of Sir Samuel Baker.

“Few creatures are so sly and wary as the crocodile. I watch them
continually as they attack the dense flocks of small birds that throng
the bushes at the water’s edge. These birds are perfectly aware of
the danger, and they fly from the attack if possible. The crocodile
then quietly and innocently lies upon the surface, as though it
had appeared quite by an accident; it thus attracts the attention
of the birds, and it slowly sails away to a considerable distance,
exposed to their view. The birds, thus beguiled by the deceiver,
believe that the danger is removed, and they again flock to the bush,
and once more dip their thirsty beaks into the stream. Thus absorbed
in slaking their thirst, they do not observe that their enemy is no
longer on the surface. A sudden splash, followed by a huge pair of
jaws beneath the bush that engulfs some dozens of victims, is the
signal unexpectedly given of the crocodile’s return, who has thus
slily dived, and hastened under cover of water to his victims. I
have seen the crocodiles repeat this manœuvre constantly, they
deceive by a feigned retreat, and then attack from below.”[113]

These birds fall a prey not only to crocodiles but to large fish—of
what species I am not sure—which rise at them as other kinds rise
at flies and snap them off the twigs. Besides, kites scout about
the outskirts of the flocks as they fly and pick up the stragglers.

In this part of the country we saw baobab trees only on the banks of
the river. Elsewhere, the trees are all mimosas and the undergrowth
of the same order.

On the 4th we marched over a dead level of cotton soil to an abandoned
village. We had to carry drinking-water, for the well at this place
had been filled up by the Dervishes. I have very little doubt that
this region is full of malaria in the wet season. Our camp was at
the foot of a rocky hill, on which we found abundance of guinea-fowl
when we took out our guns late in the afternoon. On the following day
we saw herd after herd of ariel as we marched. They were extremely
tame, and we passed within ten yards of some of them. The track
which we followed brought us to the Atbara again, at the hamlet of
Aradeeb. This village was poverty-stricken and almost in a state of
famine. The aphis[114] had blighted the entire dhurra crop of the
inhabitants. I could not discover how the people lived, but they
seemed to bear their trouble uncomplainingly, and here as elsewhere
appeared to be sincerely thankful for the peace and safety which the
Anglo-Egyptian rule secures to them. In every village to which we
came we heard the same remark—“Miri quies,” “the Government
is good.” I believe that this expression of opinion is perfectly
sincere. If so, it is one of the greatest of the many great triumphs
of British administration.

The course of the Atbara is much narrower here than at the point
where we had left it, and the pools are deeper. They are not
connected by a current in the dry season. I judged that the stream
would be from twenty-five to thirty feet deep when the floods are at
their height. The river runs, with a shingly bed, through a curious
formation of coarse, gritty sandstone, which forms fine cliffs and
numerous rocky bars and barriers. The sandstone stratum extends to
about two-thirds of the height of the ravines, and the upper third
consists of the usual black-cotton soil.

When the heat of the day was over I caught a couple of fish of
about three pounds and four pounds weight. They showed some sport
and made very good eating. In the evening we should have rested in
perfect contentment, after enjoying the luxury of a bath, if insects
of various sorts had not swarmed upon us incessantly, crawling and
biting. Dupuis gave the sheikh of the village two sheep which we
had brought from Zegi. They suffered severely from the heat, and
it seemed cruel to drive them further. Besides, we were glad to add
something to the store of the villagers in their time of scarcity.

On March 6 we quitted Aradeeb. The old sheikh came to our camp to
see us start, and brought us hot coffee in which we ceremonially
drank “peace to the village.” Throughout our journey on this
day we followed the course of the river, constantly crossing gorges
and khors. We reached Sofi at midday. This is the large village near
which Sir Samuel Baker dwelt for five months in 1861. He has given
a very full and most interesting account of the surrounding district
in “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia.” There are rest-huts built
of straw at Sofi, and we were glad to take refuge in them, though the
temperature within when we arrived was 107° F. However, we were able
to remove our helmets, and this we could not do in our tents in the
daytime as the sun penetrated the canvas. At night the temperature was
98° F., and a hot wind was blowing strongly. Towards evening I had
taken my rod to a pool in the river, but this unpleasant breeze had
by that time ruffled the surface smartly, and I got no sport. I think
the fish lie quietly in shelter during these storms and do not feed.

Next morning we left Sofi, passed through the village of Tomat,
and about midday pitched our camp five miles beyond this place
opposite to the “mugra,” that is the junction of the Settite
and Atbara rivers. The two streams at the point of meeting have a
course about a quarter of a mile broad. The bed of the Atbara is
flat and there is much shingle in it. The sandstone formation has
come to an end, and the rocks which crop up here and there are of a
granitic character. Very little water was flowing in either river,
but a larger stream trickled in the Settite than in the other. We
did not stir far from camp in the afternoon, but shot sand-grouse
as they came to drink in the pools.

During the day we saw tracks of lions, hyenas, and monkeys—grivets
and baboons. The soil and the vegetation by the river were such as
we had seen on the previous marches. A lion came into the camp during
the night. We were sleeping in the open and heard him sniffing round
our beds. I sang out to Dupuis, and asked him what was making the
noise. He struck a light, and the beast skulked off into the bush. My
two friends snatched up their rifles and hurried off to see if he
meant to attack the camels. That, no doubt, had been his errand,
for he left us alone, though I saw his tracks within a yard of my bed
next morning. The camels, as usual, were gathered in circles near the
men’s fires. They were hobbled, and I heard them stamping quickly
on the ground in their fright, making a strange pattering noise. I
believe they only show fear in this way when they smell a lion.

The next day we marched to Khor Katout, a big ravine in the plain
of the Atbara, which extends to the river. A hot wind had again
arisen, and was carrying quantities of dust with it. The journey was
exceedingly unpleasant, and coolness was nowhere to be found. Khor
Katout is a well-known haunt of lions, and we heard them roaring in
the night. On March 10 we arrived at the point where the road from
Gedaref to Kassala joins that on which we were travelling. Here
there is a “nocter”—a military post, where five soldiers
are stationed. At this place we found a rest-hut, in which we took
shelter till three in the afternoon, and then marched on till six,
covering about nine miles in the three hours. Since we had left the
course of the Atbara we had been obliged to send to the river for
water. It was brought in the “fantassis.”[115] This necessity
delayed us, and added to the petty troubles of the journey, but we
expected to reach the river bed again on the next day. That night
my sleeping-place in the open was within three or four yards of the
track, and the moon was very bright. It was a most characteristic
Eastern sight, when, about nine o’clock, some thirty camels passed
along the route at the foot of my bed, slowly and silently. They
carried no loads, and were probably returning from Kassala to Gedaref.

On the following day, as we marched, we saw spoor of lions and
leopards among the mingled traces of hyenas, jackals, and many
antelopes. We camped for the night at a very lonely spot on the Atbara
which is called Khashim el Girba.[116] Here the river emerges from
a narrow, deep, rocky gorge where the width of its course in places
does not exceed one hundred and twenty feet. The steep sides have
been smoothed by the terrific rush of water in the rainy season. One
of the pools in the bed of this cataract is very large, and uniformly
deep. I noticed that earth had lodged behind rocks which jutted from
the sides of the gorge, and a growth of mimosa scrub had established
itself even in the shallow soil on these ledges. There is no village
at Khashim el Girba, but it is a recognized camping-ground. Beyond
the narrows the Atbara broadens to a width of half a mile, and its
course is divided by an island. Here, at the time of our visit, one
could wade across the river bed through a stream which reached the
ankles. The scene must be one of singular beauty and grandeur when
the floods are coming down from Abyssinia. We heard a lion roaring at
night, and there are numbers around this place, but they had plenty
of game to prey upon and did not approach the camp.

On the morning of March 12 the Berthon boat was put together, and my
companions took her, with some surveying gear, to the great pool in
the gorge. I followed and carried my angling-tackle. We rowed about
half a mile up the course of the river upon this stretch of water,
and then came to the narrowest part of the bed of the rapids. Here a
very large rock that has an accessible side juts out into the pool,
in a most convenient position for survey work, and my companions began
to take measurements, walking up a gravelly incline which seemed to
have been placed there for the purpose. Their object was to mark out a
gauge which would show the rise and fall of the river during the flood
season in this gorge, where, of course, the movement is very clearly
seen. My friends made the necessary marks in chalk at the time, and
these were afterwards chiselled in the rock by a mason, who was sent
down for the purpose. The gauge has since been connected by electric
wire with Cairo, and since then in flood time the variations in the
depth of the Atbara have been telegraphed every other day to the
Irrigation Department in the capital. This has proved to be a very
satisfactory arrangement. If an exceptionally heavy flood occurs,
the news is sent to Cairo immediately; warnings are then dispatched
up and down the Nile so that all concerned may be prepared for the
consequent rise of the river, which will take place, say, in six
weeks’ time. The Irrigation Department and the landowners look
to their culverts and strengthen weak parts of the banks, and all
is in readiness when the flood comes. Formerly it was the custom to
patrol the riverside night and day when an unusual rush of water was
expected, but the risk of disaster in Lower Egypt from this cause
has been almost ended by the operation of the dam at Assuan and the
precautions now taken.

I tried my luck in the pool, where I saw many huge fish, but they did
not bite, though a number smelled at the spoon bait and some struck at
it with their tails. I made attempts with other attractions, but the
copper spoon appeared to allure them most. Then I cast the line into
several pools in vain, but presently, in the shallower part of the
big one, hooked a fish of about four pounds’ weight, which fought
hard, lashing the water, and plunging and keeping the reel busy. It
took me half an hour to play him into a shallow, and in the meanwhile
many big fish came up to see what was making the disturbance.

I went back to the deeper part of the pool, and as soon as I had made
a cast, hooked one, whose first tug showed that he was a prize worth
landing. I feared that I should lose him, as my tackle was hardly
strong enough for a heavy catch, so I made up my mind to play him
very gently and tire him out, if possible. Away he went and round spun
the wheel. He hid under a ledge of rock, and I wound it gently. This
started him again, and now he showed sport without a break for twenty
minutes. After that, to my surprise, I brought him up quite close to
a shallow, and then I saw that I had hooked a real monster and had a
good chance of landing him. But it would be useless to try to get him
ashore without help, and I shouted and shouted again; for all the time
he was making dashes and stopping in exhaustion, and I was playing
him in nearer to the shallow. At last one of our boys came to aid me,
and I saw that he was eager to help—but the first thing that he
did was to rush into the water and grab my line! I yelled to him to
leave it alone and strove to explain what he was to do. The next time
my prize came into the shallow his strength had nearly failed him,
for he rolled over and showed his white belly. It was a moment of
excitement when the black fellow slipped into the water and tried
to catch hold of _the fish’s tail_. I did nearly lose him then,
but he was almost spent; and after a great deal of shouting I made
the boy understand at last that he was to put his thumbs into the
fish’s gills on each side. At first he thought I wanted him to put
his fingers into its mouth, and was afraid. It took two men to lift
my fish on to dry ground, and I could hardly believe that the tackle
had held him; I was using a small trout-rod. From snout to tail he
measured forty-five inches, and he had a girth of thirty inches. We
judged his weight to be between fifty and sixty pounds. This species
(_lates niloticus_) is called by the natives “el baggar” (the
cow). It has been described by Sir S. Baker, who also published in
“The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia” a drawing of a fine specimen
which he caught in the Atbara. My photograph shows that the fish which
I landed does not altogether correspond to his description. It may
be that the Soudanese name covers more than one species, or there
may be considerable variation among members of the same species,
but I am inclined to think that the illustration in Sir S. Baker’s
book was prepared from an imperfect sketch.

During the morning we saw a troop of baboons. For a time they watched
us. It was interesting to note their method of scouting. Here and
there one would climb a tree, scan the surroundings sharply, and then
descend quietly and join the main body. A few minutes later another
would renew the observation from another tree. In this manner they
keep a constant look-out. Mansfield Parkyns studied the habits of
these creatures in Abyssinia and has given a most interesting account
of them.

“The monkeys, especially the Cynocephali, who are astonishingly
clever fellows, have their chiefs, whom they obey implicitly,
and a regular system of tactics in war, pillaging expeditions,
robbing cornfields, etc. These monkey forays are managed with the
utmost regularity and precaution. A tribe, coming down to feed
from their village on the mountain (usually a cleft in the face
of some cliff), brings with it all its members, male and female,
old and young. Some, the elders of the tribe, distinguishable by
the quantity of mane which covers their shoulders, like a lion’s,
take the lead, peering cautiously over each precipice before they
descend, and climbing to the top of every rock or stone which may
afford them a better view of the road before them. Others have their
posts as scouts on the flanks or rear; and all fulfil their duties
with the utmost vigilance, calling out at times, apparently to keep
order among the motley pack which forms the main body, or to give
notice of the approach of any real or imagined danger. Their tones
of voice on these occasions are so distinctly varied that a person
much accustomed to watch their movements will at length fancy—and
perhaps with some truth—that he can understand their signals.

“The main body is composed of females, inexperienced males, and
the young people of the tribe. Those of the females who have small
children carry them on their back. Unlike the dignified march of the
leaders, the rabble go along in a most disorderly manner, trotting on
and chattering, without taking the least heed of anything, apparently
confiding in the vigilance of their scouts. Here a few of the youth
linger behind to pick the berries off some tree, but not long, for
the rearguard coming up forces them to regain their places. There
a matron pauses for a moment to suckle her offspring, and, not to
lose time, dresses its hair while it is taking its meal. Another
young lady, probably excited by jealousy or by some sneering look
or word, pulls an ugly mouth at her neighbour, and then, uttering a
shrill squeal highly expressive of rage, vindictively snatches at
her rival’s leg with her hand, and gives her perhaps a bite in
the hind-quarters. This provokes a retort, and a most unladylike
quarrel ensues, till a loud bark of command from one of the chiefs
calls them to order. A single cry of alarm makes them all halt and
remain on the _qui vive_, till another bark in a different tone
reassures them, and they then proceed on their march.

“Arrived at the cornfields, the scouts take their position on
the eminences all round, while the remainder of the tribe collect
provision with the utmost expedition, filling their cheek-pouches as
full as they can hold, and then tucking the heads of corn under their
armpits. Now, unless there be a partition of the collected spoil,
how do the scouts feed? for I have watched them several times, and
never observed them to quit for a moment their post of duty till it
was time for the tribe to return, or till some indication of danger
induced them to take flight. They show also the same sagacity in
searching for water, discovering at once the places where it is most
readily found in the sand, and then digging for it with their hands,
just as men would, relieving one another in the work if the quantity
of sand to be removed be considerable.”[117]

In the afternoon Crawley shot a wild pig. I walked to the river again,
being charmed by the lovely scenery, and as I approached saw numbers
of crocodiles scuttle into the water. None was of great size. I doubt
if any region in the world affords more varied sport than the valley
of the Atbara. The climate is perfectly healthy in the dry season.

On March 13 we struck our camp in the afternoon and soon met the
first European whom we had encountered since we left Gallabat. He was
a British officer on the way from Kassala to Gedaref, and he made
mention of the slave-raids which had taken place since we left the
latter place. It seemed likely that the Arab Battalion would be kept
busy in holding the marauders in check. In the course of our march we
crossed the Atbara, at a point where it is about four hundred yards
in breadth. Water that reached our ankles was trickling among the
shingle in places. At sundown we arrived at a camping-ground called
Fashur, and halted for the night. Our dinner was “bully beef”
and pickles—neither a luxurious nor a prudent meal. We were now
suffering from heat eczema, which is most irritating in the cool of
the night. The baying of a hyena kept me awake for hours, and a bed
in the Soudan is not a pleasant place for one who lies on it with
an itching skin and listens to that dismal noise.

Our camp at Fashur was very hot and dusty. In the afternoon of the
next day we started for a march of twenty-two miles, which would take
us half the way from the Atbara to Kassala. We turned our backs to the
river and crossed a plain covered by dried grass and mimosa scrub,
which is probably a swamp during the rainy season. Our tents were
pitched on the open, level ground after an exhausting journey, at the
halting-place ordinarily used by those who follow this track. There
were no habitations, and we saw none on the road. During the night
a detachment of the Arab Battalion passed our encampment, on its
way to protect villages against slave-raiders.

On March 15 we arrived at the River Gash just outside Kassala. Its
course here lies in a flat, sandy bed, which was quite dry. During
the journey—eighteen and a half miles—we saw eight ostriches. The
Gash, beyond Kassala, splits into numerous small streams which,
even in the rainy season, sink into the ground and disappear
completely. Sir Samuel Baker has given an account of the river at
that time of the year, which shows its importance in relation to
produce and water-supply in the district.

“As we approached within about twenty-five miles of Kassala, I
remarked that the country on our left was in many places flooded;
the Arabs, who had hitherto been encamped in this neighbourhood
during the dry season were migrating to other localities in the
neighbourhood of Soojalup and Gozerajup with their vast herds of
camels and goats. As rain had not fallen in sufficient quantity to
account for the flood, I was informed that it was due to the river
Gash, or Mareb, which, flowing from Abyssinia, passed beneath the
walls of Kassala, and then divided into innumerable ramifications;
it was eventually lost, and disappeared in the porous soil, after
having flooded a large extent of country. This cause accounted for
the never-failing wells at Soojalup—doubtless a substratum of clay
prevented the total escape of the water, which remained at a depth
of forty feet from the surface. The large tract of country thus
annually flooded by the river Gash is rendered extremely fruitful,
and is the resort of both the Hadendowa and the Hallonga Arabs
during the dry season, who cultivate large quantities of dhurra and
other grain. Unfortunately, in these climates, fertility of soil is
generally combined with unhealthiness, and the commencement of the
rainy season is the signal for fevers and other maladies.”[118]

[Illustration: KASSALA HILL AND MARKET-PLACE.

_See p._ 205.]

We were now close to the curious and isolated eminence called
Kassala Hill, which stands within the border-line of the colony of
Eritrea. We had seen this towering landmark when we were more than
forty miles distant from it, and a whole day’s travelling had seemed
to bring us no nearer to it. It offers a splendid sight in the desert,
when the setting sun shines on the bare pile of red granite. I was
told that in the days when the Italians occupied Kassala, Alpine
climbers, with elaborate paraphernalia, had attempted the ascent,
but failed in all cases to reach the summit. There is a superstition
among the natives that any one who tries to scale the heights will
die shortly afterwards, and this belief has been confirmed among
them by the death of Colonel Collinson, a former Moudir of the town,
who made the last endeavour of which I heard, and succumbed to fever
six months afterwards.

We rose early next morning (March 16) and visited the British officers
at the Moudirieh. Needless to say we were in touch with a civilized
_cuisine_ again, and nothing teaches a man to appreciate a good
lunch in a cool room like a journey in the desert. In the afternoon I
visited the hospital, which was in charge of Dr. Ensor. It is a most
instructive place to a medical man; for here patients are gathered
together from all parts of the Eastern Soudan. And it affords a
proof of the benefits of Anglo-Egyptian administration that is
beyond cavil. I saw cases of many interesting tropical diseases,
about which the doctor and I had a long talk in the evening. We dined
at the mess of the 11th Battalion of the Egyptian army—once more
among our fellow-countrymen.

On the next day we visited Cristo’s, the Whiteley’s of Kassala,
and made purchases for the remainder of the journey. At sundown
I watched the 11th at tattoo. This regiment had a good band,
composed of Soudanese blacks, and it gave one a lively pleasure to
hear European music again, though I must admit that they played the
Old Hundredth arranged as a march! In the evening the Governor had
a dinner-party in honour of St. Patrick’s-day, and a number of
officers were present. The place might have been an Indian station
instead of Kassala.

On March 18 my companions left the camp very early, accompanied
by another English soldier who was visiting the town, to make an
inspection of the bed of the Gash above Kassala. In the evening they
rode out in the opposite direction to see the end of its course
in the tract in which it is absorbed. Possibly the subterranean
waters, free from evaporation, will afford an invaluable reservoir
for irrigation and the maintenance of stock in the future.

[Illustration: THE MOUDIRIEH AT KASSALA.

_See p._ 205.]

[Illustration: TENTS PITCHED IN THE ENCLOSURE OF THE MOUDIRIEH
AT KASSALA.

_See p._ 205.]

The Governor of Kassala had a small black servant, about thirteen
years of age, called Fadl Mullah (Courtesy of the Prophet). The lad
had been picked up in a deserted Dervish trench during the battle of
the Atbara, where he was found tied to a dead camel and covered with
blood. The Governor told us that he was “as sharp as a needle”
and most zealous in service, never sleeping in the afternoon, and
always running when he was sent upon an errand. He only gave trouble
in one way, and this was that once in every two months or so he would
come to the Moudir and declare that he had found his father. When the
putative parent had disclaimed the bond, and the Governor had said
that he would hear no more about it, the boy would acquiesce. But
he was sure to discover another “father” a few weeks later.

While we were at Kassala an Italian officer arrived in the town from
Eritrea. No one had received notice of his coming, and no one seemed
to know what his business was. I sat next to him one night at dinner,
and he told me that he was a lieutenant in the Mountain Artillery, and
was using his leave to make a journey to the junction of the Atbara
and Settite Rivers. He would return thence direct to his battery.

On the 20th we struck our camp and left Kassala in the afternoon,
turning our faces towards the Atbara again. We had the pleasure of the
company of the Governor and another English officer during the next
two days’ journeys, which were hot, tiring, and uneventful. We bade
farewell to our friends on the afternoon of the 22nd. On the following
day we marched in the direction of the Goz Regeb hill. This singular
rise of ground in the desert appeared and disappeared as we moved down
imperceptible slopes and then ascended again. We saw the mirage all
around us. The soil in this region was shingly. At Goz Regeb there
was a two-roomed rest-house. It was of baked mud, and was the most
solid building that we had seen since we left Khartoum. We had been
told at Kassala that it belonged to the Slavery Department, and that
we might make use of it as it was then unoccupied. That night there
was a high wind, and among its _ludibria_, was Crawley’s sponge,
which, oddly enough, was found next day in the Atbara about half a
mile from our halting-place.

On March 24 Dupuis climbed Goz Regeb Hill and took photographs of the
curious balanced granite blocks which stand upon it. At a distance
many of them look like figures of men, and at a nearer range like
worn statues. But it is certain that they have not been placed in
their position by human agency. I am unable to offer any conjecture
as to their origin or geological relation to their surroundings.

An incursion of great numbers of Arabs from the south, with their
flocks and herds, into the region around Goz Regeb takes place
regularly at the commencement of the rainy season. They are then
compelled to come to this district to avoid the seroot fly[119]—the
tsetse of the Soudan—which is fatal to all live stock except
goats. Obviously, this necessary migration is an important fact both
in relation to politics and campaigning in the Soudan. Sir S. Baker
came in contact with the movement northward.

[Illustration: GOZ REGEB GRANITE STONE, MIMOSA SCRUB IN THE DISTANCE.

_See p._ 208.

_From a Photograph by Mr. C. E. Dupuis._]

[Illustration: GOZ REGEB STONES.

_See p._ 208.

_From a Photograph by Mr. C. E. Dupuis._]

“The commencement of the rainy season was a warning to all the Arabs
of this country, who were preparing for their annual migration to the
sandy and firm desert on the west bank of the river, at Gozerajup;
that region, so barren and desolate during the hot season, would
shortly be covered with a delicate grass about eighteen inches
high. At that favoured spot the rains fell with less violence, and
it formed a nucleus for the general gathering of the people with
their flocks.

“The burning sun, that for nine months had scorched the earth,
was veiled by passing clouds; the cattle that had panted for water,
and whose food was withered straw, were filled with juicy fodder;
the camels that had subsisted upon the dried and leafless twigs and
branches, now feasted upon the succulent tops of the mimosas. Throngs
of women and children mounted upon camels, protected by the peculiar
gaudy saddle hood, ornamented with cowrie shells, accompanied the
march: thousands of sheep and goats, driven by Arab boys, were
straggling in all directions; baggage-camels, heavily laden with
the quaint household gods, blocked up the way; and fine bronzed
figures of Arabs, with sword and shield, and white topes or plaids,
guided their milk-white dromedaries through the confused throng with
the usual placid dignity of their race, simply passing by with the
usual greeting, ‘_Salaam Aleikum_’ (Peace be with you).

“It was the Exodus; all were hurrying towards the promised
land—the ‘land flowing with milk and honey,’ where men and
beasts would be secure not only from the fevers of the south,
but from that deadly enemy to camels and cattle, _the fly_; this
terrible insect drove all before it.”[120]

During the wet season the Mouderir (Government) of Kassala is
transferred to new buildings which have recently been erected for its
reception at the village of Goz Regeb, and there is a general movement
of the Europeans and the wealthier native inhabitants of the town to
the same place. The exercise of jurisdiction and the collection of
revenue in this region are made difficult by the annual migration of
which Sir Samuel Baker wrote. Great numbers of people from different
parts of the country collect now, as in former days, within one
district in a very short space of time, the comminglement of flocks
and herds adds to the confusion, and it is no simple administrative
task to deal with a shifting population of this magnitude. If the
seroot fly were exterminated, as certain species of noxious African
mosquitoes have been, this yearly exodus would no longer take place.

On March 25, we camped beside the river at a pleasant place well
shaded by trees. I took my rod to a pool and landed a couple of fish,
one about six pounds and the other twelve pounds in weight. They
were of the same species as my fifty-pound prize, and both showed
fight. They came into shallow water after plenty of coaxing, and
I got them ashore without aid. My experience that evening shows
that a diary is kept with difficulty in the Soudan. I sat on my bed
to write the notes of the day, and held a candle aloft in my left
hand to keep it out of reach of the draughts which blew the flame
in all directions if I lowered it. With the right hand I used my
pencil, and kept clearing away the insects that flew upon my face
and swarmed about the light. They seemed to exercise no choice, but
flew indifferently into one’s mouth or eyes or into the flame, and
they were nastiest when moribund, but still active, after resolutely
passing through the fire.

[Illustration: ROCKS AT GOZ REGEB.

_See p._ 208.

_From a Photograph by Mr. C. E. Dupuis._]

[Illustration: ROCKS ON GOZ REGEB HILL.

_See p._ 208.

_From a Photograph by Mr. C. E. Dupuis._]

On the 26th we halted, after marching from five in the morning
till eleven, at a spot a few miles distant from the river, where
there are three rest-houses—one for the chiefs of the party
which is travelling, one for the servants, and one to serve as
kitchen. Gazelles were plentiful in this district, but we were
unable to use our rifles on account of the throng of Arabs, cattle,
and sheep in the neighbourhood. It was interesting to watch the
manner in which the goats feed at this season. They are tended
by half-naked Soudanese boys who carry long crooked staves. With
these they pull down the branches of the mimosas, and the goats
browse the leaves and twigs. They also stand upon their hind legs,
resting their forelegs upon boughs, and so reach the foliage,
keeping the branches down with their hoofs, while they eat the
succulent new shoots. When they are seen from a distance in this
attitude they exactly resemble people. In this region the villages
are very small—mere hamlets consisting of a few huts, and very
little ground is under cultivation. The land is used for pasture
throughout the district, and is apparently common to all comers.

On March 27, we travelled about thirteen miles and halted at a
rest-house. We had reached a zone of lower temperature—the maximum
at midday was 89°—and the journeys were no longer unpleasant. The
riverside scenery is interesting and beautiful in the lower as well
as in the higher reaches, and the dome-palms become more numerous as
one advances northward and add to the charm of the banks. There was no
other vegetation when we saw the country except low-grown mimosas and
mimosa-scrub. Sand stretches away on either side from the course of
the river, and we crossed few khors after leaving Goz Regeb, for the
rainfall in this region is absorbed in the soil and is insufficient
to produce torrents which would scour a course towards the stream.

In the afternoon I took my fishing-tackle and tried my fortune in
a pool from which I landed two fish, one of about fifteen pounds
and one of about five pounds, and a crocodile tried his luck upon
the bank and nearly caught a man. Before I set out with my rod
I had been warned by the sheikh of the village near which we had
encamped that the beasts were very dangerous in this part of the
Atbara, and I kept a good look-out for signs of them. It happened,
however, that just as I had made a cast, Dupuis, who had been out
with his rifle, passed behind me and sang out, “Have you caught
anything?” I stepped back briskly, as good luck would have it,
and answered, “Have _you_ shot anything?” and at the instant
the crocodile lashed at my legs with its tail to strike me into the
water. It had been awaiting its chance to take me off my guard, and
I had had no inkling of danger. I judged the length of the reptile
to be about twelve feet. It certainly had a sound sporting plan and
made a smart dash; for it only missed me by a few inches. The tails
of these creatures are very powerful, and if the one that had been
stalking me had judged distance a little better, I should certainly
have been knocked into the pool.

A little later I heard in Cairo that a week after my adventure, a
woman, who was filling a water-sack close to the place where I had
stood, turned round to answer some men who were exchanging chaff with
her; as she did so, a crocodile struck her on the hip with its tail,
lashed her some distance into the water, and immediately dragged her
under. I was told that they use the tail-trick only with human beings
and always seize beasts by the snout. But this account does not quite
agree with the observations of Sir S. Baker, who made a very careful
study of the habits of the crocodiles in the rivers of the Soudan.

[Illustration: A MIRAGE, SHOWING GOZ REGEB HILL IN THE DISTANCE,
ALSO NUMEROUS GAME TRACKS.

_See p._ 208.]

“The crocodile perceives, while it is floating on the surface in mid
stream, or from the opposite side of the river, a woman filling her
girba,[121] or an animal drinking, etc. Sinking immediately, it swims
perhaps a hundred yards nearer, and again appearing for an instant
upon the surface, it assures itself of the position of its prey by a
stealthy look; once more it sinks, and reaches the exact spot above
which the person or animal may be. Seeing distinctly through the
water, it generally makes its fatal rush from beneath—sometimes
seizing with its jaws, and at other times striking the object into
the water with its tail, after which it is seized and carried off.

“The crocodile does not attempt to swallow a large prey at once,
but generally carries it away, and keeps it for a considerable time
in its jaws in some deep hole beneath a rock, or the root of a tree,
where it eats it at leisure.”[122]

The fish which I had caught were of the same species as those
which I had previously landed, and proved very good at table in the
evening. It was our custom to dress for dinner—in pyjamas.

On March 28 our journey lay through the desert, and reminded us of
our first marches towards Gedaref. The river banks with their dome
palms were the only landmark. Elsewhere nothing was to be seen but
sand, with patches of thinly-growing, very coarse grass or low mimosa
scrub here and there, and mirage all around us.

Next day we travelled twenty-one miles to Adarama. On the way we
passed at a distance a great zareba prepared by Osman Digna. This
was protected by double walls, each about twelve feet high. There
is an interval of some three feet between the two. They enclose a
square space of sandy ground, and the sides have a length of about
three hundred yards. The Dervish leader intended to occupy it after
the battle of the Atbara. The defences are now slowly falling to
pieces; for the walls are made of sun-dried mud, and as this becomes
weatherworn and crumbles the wind carries it away, leaving gaps in the
ramparts. The sight symbolizes much. Adarama was formerly one of the
large towns of the Soudan, but now consists of a few mud huts. There
is also a small garrison of about twenty soldiers. The place lies
halfway between Gozerajup and Berber, and has a pleasant rest-house
among the palm-trees close to the river. The bed of the Atbara is
sandy here, and the average breadth is about four hundred yards.

On March 30 we reached Gumaza. I had the luck to bring down a fine
buck gazelle while we were on the road. In the evening Dupuis and I
made practice at the crocodiles in the river, and their numbers were
shown by the commotion that they made in the pools. The next day we
pushed on across the desert towards Berber and slept in the open. On
April 1 our road lay through similar country. Sometimes a gazelle
would scamper away in the distance, but often nothing was to be seen
but sand and mirage. And then suddenly we were confronted by vestiges
of civilization. When we were not far from the Atbara battle-field
we saw the unmistakable traces of a traction engine. About eleven
o’clock dome palms were in sight, and we reached a rest-house beside
the river half an hour later. After lunch we heard the jerky puffing
of a petrol motor, and rushed out to see what was approaching. It was
a heavy engine dragging a car, and the tracks which we had discerned
were accounted for. The Englishman in charge told us that he had
carried a tombstone to the battlefield; it had been erected on an
officer’s grave. He added that he could travel six miles an hour
in the desert, but that petrol was very expensive in Berber, where
it cost ten shillings a gallon; so he had come to the rest-house to
await a troop of forty mules, which were to drag the engine and car
back to the town.

[Illustration: LORD KITCHENER’S BRIDGE OVER THE ATBARA, NEAR BERBER.

_See p._ 214.]

On April 2 we reached the bridge over the Atbara—_monumentum ære
perennius_, if Lord Kitchener’s energy and perseverance receive
their deserts from posterity. It was strange to us to see a railway
train, and hear the whistle of a locomotive once more. On the next day
we arrived at Berber. Here we were in full contact with civilization,
and here, practically, the duties of the expedition ended, for we
followed the ordinary train and steamer route to our journey’s
end. Here, too, I will take leave of my reader, hoping that the long
excursion from Khartoum has not wearied him, and will only add my
conviction that a splendid future lies before the Eastern Soudan,
and before Abyssinia, _after_ the clouds have gathered over that
country and burst.


FOOTNOTES:


[Footnote 1: A khor is a gully or gorge formed by the rush of rain
in the wet season. It is a watercourse at that time, but a dry ravine
during the rest of the year.]

[Footnote 2: Kneel.]

[Footnote 3: These bottles were of aluminium covered with felt. Before
we started on the day’s march, the felt was soaked in water,
and the evaporation from it tended to keep the drinking supply cool.]

[Footnote 4: Lieutenant-Colonel.]

[Footnote 5: Governor.]

[Footnote 6: Chief baggage-man.]

[Footnote 7: This trill is maintained on the same note—the upper B
flat of the feminine vocal compass—and is produced by a vibration
of the tip of the tongue on the hard palate. Many European ladies
have tried to give a rendering of it, but without success. In Lower
Egypt the “joy-trilling” is called _zungareet_.]

[Footnote 8: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” 1867, p. 525.]

[Footnote 9: Ib. p. 523.]

[Footnote 10: “Life in Abyssinia,” 1868, p. 101]

[Footnote 11: “The great plain comes to an end within a few miles
of Gedaref, the ground becomes uneven and rocky, and Gedaref itself
is situated in an open valley surrounded by bare hills of basaltic
rock.”—Sir W. Garstin, “Report upon the Basin of the Upper
Nile,” 1904.]

[Footnote 12: “The shotel (sword) is an awkward-looking
weapon. Some, if straight, would be nearly four feet long; they
are two-edged, and curved to a semicircle, like a reaper’s
sickle. It is a very clumsy weapon to manage. Many of the swords
are made of the soft iron of the country and bend on the least
stress. The handles are made of the horn of the rhinoceros, sawn
into three longitudinal pieces, and incised so as to end in sharp
points parallel to the blades. The shank is usually clinched over
a half-dollar beaten convex. I should scarcely mind a blow from a
sword thus mounted, as, were the striker to give his wrist any play,
in order to make his cut at all effective, he could not fail sending
one of the highly ornamental but very useless points of his hilt
into his own wrist. . . . In the use of the gun the natives are in
general exceedingly clumsy. They prefer large, heavy matchlocks,
to load which is a labour of some minutes. They carry their powder
in hollow canes fitted into a leathern belt worn round the waist;
and, having no fixed charge, pour out at hazard a small quantity into
the hand. This they measure with the eye, occasionally putting back
a little if it appear too much, or adding a little if it seem not
enough. After this operation has been performed two or three times,
till they are pretty well satisfied as to the quantity, it is poured
into the gun-barrel. The proper charge is now tested by the insertion
of the ramrod. Lastly, when all is settled, some rag and a small bar
or ball of roughly wrought iron are rammed down. This last operation
(with the exception that the ramrod often sticks in the rag for half
an hour) is not difficult, as the ball is made of about a quarter
of an inch less diameter than the bore of the piece for which it is
intended. It is great fun to see these gunners, when taken unawares
by a sudden alarm; one can’t find his flint, another has lost his
steel; then there is the striking of a light, blowing the match,
priming the gun, fixing the match to a proper length and direction;
and, lastly, sticking into the ground the rest, which nearly all of
them use, especially if their piece be of the heavy description. There
is one thing in their favour—that the mere sound of driving in
the rest is generally sufficient to turn away the bravest Abyssinian
cavalry that ever charged.”—Mansfield Parkyns, pp. 236, 241.]

[Footnote 13: “Wanderings among the Falashas in Abyssinia,” by
Rev. H. Stern, 1862.]

[Footnote 14: “Narrative of a Journey through Abyssinia,” by
Henry Dufton, 1867.]

[Footnote 15: Dufton, pp. 16, 17.]

[Footnote 16: Ib. pp. 35, 36.]

[Footnote 17: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” 1867,
pp. 356-357.]

[Footnote 18: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” p. 182.]

[Footnote 19: For a variety of reasons—some of them creditable—a
number of Abyssinians abandon their allegiance to Menelek and the
Rases (chiefs) and become subject to Anglo-Egyptian jurisdiction.]

[Footnote 20: “King of Kings,” title of the Abyssinian monarch.]

[Footnote 21: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” p. 502.]

[Footnote 22: Mansfield Parkyns has given a full and careful
description of the national costume. I extract the following details
from it:—“The ‘quarry’ is the principal article of Abyssinian
dress: it is of cotton, and very fine and soft; those of the richer
being finer but probably not so serviceable as those of the poorer
class. It is made in three pieces; each piece is about three feet
broad by fifteen feet long. Near both ends of each piece is a red
stripe, five or six inches broad.” The pieces are sewn together
so as to form “a white double cloth, with a red border near the
bottom only; the breadth of the ‘quarry’ is nine feet by seven
and a half long. . . . The methods of putting on the cloth are as
various as the modes of wearing a Highland plaid. One of the most
ordinary ways is first to place it like a cloak over the shoulders:
the right end, which is purposely left the longer, is then thrown
over the left shoulder, and the bottom border, which would otherwise
(from its length) trail on the ground, is gathered over the right
shoulder” (“Life in Abyssinia,” pp. 228, 229). “The trousers
are of a soft textured but rather coarse cotton stuff, made in
the country, and are of two sorts: one called ‘cállis,’ the
other ‘coumta.’ The former reaches half-way down the calf of
the leg, the latter to about three or four inches above the knee”
(ib. pp. 225, 226). The other garment worn by the men is a belt. These
cinctures “vary in length from fifteen to sixty yards, and are about
one yard in width. In quantity of cotton they are nearly all of the
same weight, as the very long ones are in proportion finer than the
shorter” (ib. p. 227). With regard to feminine dress, “there is a
distinguishing costume for young girls, and for those who, from being
married or otherwise, are no longer considered as such. The dress of
the former is indeed rather slight, though far more picturesque than
that of the latter. . . . The girls merely wear a piece of cotton
stuff wrapped round the waist and hanging down almost to the knee,
and another (or the end of the former, if it be long enough) thrown
over the left shoulder, so as to leave the right arm and breast
exposed. In other parts of Tigre a black goat-skin, ornamented with
cowries, is often substituted for this latter. An ordinary woman
wears a large loose shirt down to the feet, with sleeves made tight
towards the wrist. This, with a ‘quarry’ similar to those of the
men, but worn rather differently, and a parasol when out of doors,
is a complete suit” (ib. pp. 241-243). Parkyns thus describes the
system of hairdressing: “In general, neither sex wears any covering
on the head, preferring to tress and butter that with which nature
has provided them. The hair of the Abyssinians is admirably adapted
for this purpose, being neither short and crisp like a negro’s,
nor yet of the soft elasticity of a European’s, but between
the two. . . . The operation of tressing is a very tedious one,
usually occupying an hour or two per head: therefore, of course,
it is repeated as seldom as possible: by some great dandies once a
fortnight: by others once a month, or even less frequently. In the
interim large supplies of fresh butter are employed, when obtainable,
in order to prevent the chance of a settlement of vermin; and a
piece of stick, like a skewer, is used for scratching. The hair is
gathered in plaits close over the whole surface of the head, the
lines running fore and aft, and the ends hanging down in ringlets
over the neck. . . . Some ladies have their butter daubed on nicely,
and then some scent: but the great ‘go’ among the dandies is to
appear in the morning with a huge pat of butter (about two ounces)
placed on the top of the head, which, as it gradually melts in
the sun, runs over the hair and down the neck, over the forehead,
and often into the eyes, thereby causing much smarting. This last
ingression, however, the gentleman usually prevents by wiping his
forehead frequently with his hand or the corner of his ‘quarry.’
As may be imagined, the dresses neither of the women nor men are long
free from grease; but this, especially among the latter sex, is of
no importance; indeed, many young men among the soldiery consider a
clean cloth as ‘slow,’ and appropriate only for a townsman or a
woman. These never have their quarries washed from one St. John’s
Day to another” (ib. pp. 243-245).]

[Footnote 23: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 248.]

[Footnote 24: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 282.]

[Footnote 25: “Abyssinia,” by Herbert Vivian, 1901, pp. 314-327.]

[Footnote 26: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 418.]

[Footnote 27: Guard-house.]

[Footnote 28: “On one occasion we had a small adventure. We were
resting one night near the summit of a mountain, when about two hours
before daybreak we were awaked by a loud hubbub and the discharge
of a gun. Starting to our feet, we inquired what was up, and our
anxiety was increased by M. Lejean’s Arab seizing the second gun
and discharging it. All I saw, for it was pitch dark, was one of the
mules kicking about amongst the ashes of a half-extinguished fire,
and endeavouring to extricate himself from the leather thong which
bound his head to a tree. This he soon succeeded in doing, and went
off at a furious rate towards the woods which clothe the sides of
the mountain. I thought he had burnt himself at the fire, and that
this was the cause of his breaking loose, but the rest maintained
that he had been bitten by the hyenas: and they were right, for at
daybreak we saw and gave chase to one of these brutes, who was still
prowling about. These creatures were much bolder here than near the
villages. As we were sleeping in the open air, with our faces exposed,
it was fortunate for us that the hyenas preferred trying mule’s
flesh to man’s. We heard afterwards that the mule had returned to
Gallabat, a distance of forty miles, but was so severely bitten in
the flank that he was perfectly useless.” (Dufton, “A Journey
through Abyssinia,” pp. 48, 49.)]

[Footnote 29: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” pp. 515, 516.]

[Footnote 30: “The word ‘Habash’ (the native name for
Abyssinian) means, I believe, a ‘mixture’ in the Giz language—a
mixture of various qualities of corn goes by that name in some of
the provinces of Tigre. It is supposed by some that a great number
of Jews followed the Queen of Sheba, on her return from her visit
to Solomon, and that a large colony of fugitives also took refuge
in Abyssinia about the time of the destruction of the temple and
the captivity. Subsequently the Greeks sent missionaries, and they
were doubtless accompanied by adventurers; and the Portuguese sent
a number of troops, some of whom remained in the country for many
years. The variety of complexion, observable in both sexes, is, I
should think, attributable to the mixture of races of which the nation
is composed.” (Mansfield Parkyns, “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 224.)]

[Footnote 31: That most resourceful of travellers, Sir Samuel
Baker, once put an ant-hill of this kind to a singular use. The
incident may be new to some of my readers. The explorer wished to
make soap in the Soudan. “I had neither lime nor potash, but I
shortly procured both. The hegleek-tree (_Balanites Egyptiaca_)
was extremely rich in potash; therefore I burned a large quantity,
and made a strong ley with the ashes; this I concentrated by
boiling. There was no lime-stone; but the river produced a plentiful
supply of large oyster-shells, that, if burned, would yield excellent
lime. Accordingly I constructed a kiln, with the assistance of the
white ants. The country was infested with these creatures, which had
erected their dwellings in all directions; these were formed of clay
so thoroughly cemented by a glutinous preparation of the insects,
that it was harder than sun-baked brick. I selected an egg-shaped
hill, and cut off the top, exactly as we take off the slice from an
egg. My Tokrooris then worked hard, and with a hoe and their lances,
they hollowed it out to the base, in spite of the attacks of the ants,
which punished the legs of the intruders considerably. I now made a
draught-hole from the outside base, at right-angles with the bottom
of the hollow cone. My kiln was perfect.” (“The Nile Tributaries
of Abyssinia,” pp. 424, 425.)]

[Footnote 32: I have seen living trees of the height of ninety feet,
the bark of which had been entirely converted into a layer of “white
ant earth.”]

[Footnote 33: “My sight was now delighted by frequent views of the
summits of the Simyen mountains, thickly covered with snow. As this
was the month of April, one of the hottest, I can easily believe that
some of these mountains are never free, but are within the region
of perpetual winter. They are the highest in Abyssinia, attaining
an elevation of fifteen thousand feet in Aboo Yared, the loftiest
peak.” (Dufton, “A Journey through Abyssinia,” p. 196.) The
heights of Simyen lie north-east of Lake Tsana, between the lake
and Adowa.]

[Footnote 34: “The Geerar is a typical mountain river in a country
consisting almost wholly of impervious basaltic and granite rocks;
it is evidently a furious torrent after rain, but dry except for
the merest trickle at other times; it runs in a deep narrow valley,
shut in, hot, and airless, and probably very unhealthy.” (Sir
W. Garstin, “Report upon the Basin of the Upper Nile,” 1904.)]

[Footnote 35: “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in
Deutschland,” vol. iii., 1881.]

[Footnote 36: These are the “Maria Theresa” dollars. “The Maria
Theresa dollar is a facsimile of the coin of 1780. It is still issued
by the Austrian Government, and circulates as a trade coin nearly all
over Africa. Though roughly about the size of a five-shilling piece,
it only exchanges for a little more than its intrinsic value, which
was about 1_s._ 11_d._ when I left Africa.” (“Abyssinia,”
by Herbert Vivian, 1901, p. 239.) Dufton wrote, with regard to
Abyssinian marketing: “The Maria Theresa dollar is the only coin
used in these transactions under the name of _bir_ (silver). This
piece must be of a certain kind, however, containing the spots which
form the queen’s tiara, and other marks clearly defined; for which
reason it is called by the Arabs of the Soudan Abou Nukter, or father
of spots.” (“A Journey through Abyssinia,” p. 61.) Mr. Vivian
gives the following table of Abyssinian currency:—

  4 cartridges  = 1 salt

  4 salts       = 1 Maria Theresa dollar

The “salt” is a bar of that mineral, which is ordinarily carried
and used in lieu of coin. I found that its value was, roughly,
sixpence, as Mr. Vivian says. At an earlier date its purchasing power
seems to have been less. “Pieces of salt, called _tsho_, are the
monetary medium throughout the greater part of Abyssinia. This salt
is obtained from extensive mines in the country of the Danakil, where
it is cut into small blocks, eight inches long by one inch and a half
in breadth, each of which is of a variable market value of between
twopence and threepence.” (“A Journey through Abyssinia,”
pp. 61, 62.) Evidently there has been “appreciation of salt” in
the land of the Negus since 1862, when Mr. Dufton visited it.]

[Footnote 37: “A Journey through Abyssinia,” pp. 47, 48.]

[Footnote 38: See p. 179.]

[Footnote 39: Psalm lxxiii. 18.]

[Footnote 40: Chieftain. As in the feudal times in Europe there is a
chain of allegiance—often enough broken—between the king and the
mass of his subjects. This Ras was the “Deputy’s” feudal chief.]

[Footnote 41: Consul Plowden (1848-60), quoted in “Abyssinia and
its people,” by J. C. Hotten, 1868, pp. 130, 135.]

[Footnote 42: See map.]

[Footnote 43: “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in
Deutschland,” vol. iii. p. 32.]

[Footnote 44: “Abyssinia and its People,” by J. C. Hotten, 1868,
p. 128.]

[Footnote 45: Mr. MacMillan, describing some of the incidents of
his recent expedition to the upper reaches of the Blue Nile, told
an interviewer: “We were roused at four in the morning by the wild
screams of one of our people (a Somali), who had been seized by a big
crocodile, which had crawled up the rocks. The brute had seized his
victim by the head and dragged him to the water’s edge. By throwing
stones at the crocodile we succeeded in making him leave the Somali,
who, though terribly mauled, eventually recovered.”—_Egyptian
Gazette_, October 21, 1903. Mr. MacMillan told me subsequently in
conversation that the Somali, when he was attacked, was sleeping with
his head on his arm, and that the crocodile seized both head and arm,
with the result that the Somali put his finger in the crocodile’s
eye. Mr. MacMillan was inclined to believe that this action made the
reptile release the man. The guns and ammunition of the expedition
had all been lost, and were at the bottom of the river, and the
night was pitch dark.]

[Footnote 46: “Life in Abyssinia,” pp. 383 _seq._]

[Footnote 47: Native bread. “The chief corn of the country is
‘teff’ and ‘dágousha,’ if, indeed, we may venture to include
these under the head of corn; for they both resemble different sorts
of grass, and the seed is not larger than rape or canary seed. Of
each of these there are various qualities, esteemed according to their
colour, white, red, or black. White ‘teff’ bread is preferred by
all natives even to wheat bread. . . . The ‘teff’ is considered
by the Abyssinians wholesome and digestible; but so far from being
satisfied of this, I am doubtful of its containing much nutritious
property; and as for its taste, only fancy yourself chewing a piece
of sour sponge, and you will have a good idea of what is considered
the best bread in Abyssinia.” (Parkyns, “Life in Abyssinia,”
pp. 198-200.)]

[Footnote 48: In other parts of Abyssinia “there are also two
kinds, one a very large one and another of Jersey size, that show
absolutely no trace of an Eastern origin, and are as straight-backed
as any English short-horn.” (“Modern Abyssinia,” by Augustus
Wylde. Methuen, 1901.)]

[Footnote 49: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 259.]

[Footnote 50: I do not know whether the women drink much _tedj_,
but even the ladies of the land did so in Bruce’s time. He
was in Gondar when “Ozoro Esther’s sister, the Iteghe’s”
(queen-mother’s) “youngest daughter was married to Powussen,
the governor of Begemder. The king gave her large districts of land
in that province, and Ras Michael a large portion of gold, muskets,
cattle, and horses.” On this occasion “the Ras, Ozoro Esther,
and Ozoro Altash entertained all Gondar. A vast number of cattle
were slaughtered every day, and the whole town was one great market:
the common people, in every street, appeared laden with pieces of raw
beef, while drink circulated in like profusion. The Ras insisted upon
Bruce’s dining with him every day. After dinner they slipped away
to parties of ladies, where anarchy prevailed as completely as at the
house of the Ras. All the married women ate, drank and smoked like
the men; in fact it is impossible to convey to the English reader,
in terms of proper decency, any idea of this bacchanalian scene”
(Head’s “Life of Bruce,” pp. 297, 298). In Parkyns’s time a
wedding-feast was an orgy of the same kind for all classes and both
sexes. And as there is a complete absence of _gêne_ in the conduct
of modern Abyssinian women in other respects, I have little doubt
that they still favour the _tedj_ when the mood prompts them.]

[Footnote 51: “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in
Deutschland,” vol. iii. p. 27.]

[Footnote 52: “Asked about the trade prospects in Abyssinia
and the projected American commercial mission, Mr. MacMillan said,
‘The greater part of the trade of Abyssinia is already in American
hands. The principal import is white cotton sheeting, which every
Abyssinian wears, all of which comes from the United States. I do not
see that there is much possibility of further development in the trade
as far as this sheeting—which is everywhere known as Amerikani—is
concerned; the supply has already reached its maximum. There may be
some possibilities in the case of oil, which at present comes from
Russia. As a matter of fact there is no money in the country.”
(_Egyptian Gazette_, October 21, 1903.)]

[Footnote 53: Quoted in “Abyssinia Described,” by J. C. Hotten,
p. 129.]

[Footnote 54: Dufton, “A Journey through Abyssinia,” p. 63.]

[Footnote 55: “Abyssinia,” p. 124.]

[Footnote 56: “Modern Abyssinia,” by Augustus Wylde, p. 345.]

[Footnote 57: “Life in Abyssinia,” by Mansfield Parkyns, p. 278.]

[Footnote 58: Ib. p. 254.]

[Footnote 59: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 369.]

[Footnote 60: See p. 120.]

[Footnote 61: “The Gumara here flows between high rocks, which
consist of porphyry and trachyte, in which calcareous tufa is found
embedded. Its banks are adorned with tropical vegetation, and the
place derives its characteristic features especially from the wild
_Phœnix_ with its delicate foliage and the colossal _Musa Ensete
ornamentalis_ with carmine leaf-panicles, which is called _guma-guma_
by the natives to distinguish it from the edible _Musa Ensete_. In
many places the Gumara is deep and full of fish; innumerable wild
ducks and geese, _scopus umbretta_, etc., enliven the surface of
the water, while bright-hued butterflies, the charming _Danais_
and equitidæ with their brilliant play of colour, mingled with
tiny metallic-tinted nectariniæ (_affinis metallica_), flit around
the fragrant _Dodonæa viscosa_ and the brilliant blossoms of the
Tsana-tree” (“Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft
in Deutschland,” vol. iii. 1881, pp. 23, 24). _Phœnix_ is the
name given to a family of pinnate palms, of which the Egyptian
_Phœnix dactylifera_, the finger-date, is an example. _Ensete_ is
the Abyssinian name of a thick-stemmed, large-leafed banana, which
is grown in gardens as an ornamental plant. The thick flower-stalk
is used as an article of food by the natives, but the fruit, being
small and dry, is useless. In spite of these attractions, Wansage,
(see p. 63) according to Stecker, would hardly be a suitable
health-resort for European invalids. He wrote, “By night an
infernal din prevails, which, mingled with the singing of women and
clapping of hands, forms the characteristic music of the Baths. The
bull-frogs that live in the Gumara supply a harmonious accompaniment,
which, with the noise kept up by the donkeys and beasts of burden,
does not cease till long after midnight” (Ib.).]

[Footnote 62: This is the district called Lamge. Stecker said of it:
“I consider Lamge the prettiest place on Lake Tsana; the ancient,
massive _Dokma_ trees are all covered by parasitical _Loranthidæ_
with rose-red and purple blossoms, and by whole nests of olive-green
_Viscum_, and another parasitical plant which is peculiar to this
one tree; and they are surrounded by an impenetrable growth of
_Cucurbitaceæ_ and _Convolvulaceæ_, which in some places form the
most romantic piazzas, and in others arbours and formal galleries,
and afford the coolest shade. This Lamge is a place for which one
may prophesy a brilliant future. Everywhere hereabouts on ancient
acacias hang the nests of weaver-birds (_textor alecto_), and,
out of curiosity, I counted upon one of them 872 basket-shaped,
suspended nests” (“Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft
in Deutschland,” vol. iii. 1881, p. 26).]

[Footnote 63: Europeans are not allowed to visit the Island of Dega,
“because it is not permitted to any one to set foot on this holy
ground, which is only inhabited by anchorite monks and is sacred
to St. Stephen” (Stecker, “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen
Gesellschaft in Deutschland,” p. 31).]

[Footnote 64: At the battle of Gallabat in 1889.]

[Footnote 65: I saw no rods or hooks used by natives in
Abyssinia. They have nets weighted with pieces of lead. These are
simply thrown out to sweep the water at their full spread and slowly
pulled in. Then the net is gathered up, hung over the fisher’s
left arm and cast again.]

[Footnote 66: Stecker did not visit the Island of Mitraha. He wrote:
“On account of a quarrel that arose between my servants and the
tatterdemalion clergy of Mitraha I did not land on this parsons’
island. The priests wanted to extort money from me by this method:
that they would sell me no provisions before I had visited their
church, which meant, before I had given them baksheesh in profusion”
(“Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in Deutschland,”
p. 26).]

[Footnote 67: Wylde, “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 417.]

[Footnote 68: Vivian, “Abyssinia,” p. 186.]

[Footnote 69: Stern gave the following interesting account of
the monarch _de jure_:—“Whilst at Gondar we visited various
personages of rank and dignity; amongst others _Atzee Johannes_,
the Shadow King, and according to Abyssinian annals, the legitimate
successor to the throne and lineal descendant of Solomon by the Queen
of Sheba’s son. He was seated on an _alga_ in a dirty little room,
with a monk’s skull-cap on his head, reading the Psalms. He asked
me many questions on geography, and unlike the majority of Abyssinian
savants did not believe that beyond Jerusalem the sun never shone,
and that only serpents and other venomous reptiles occupied the
untenanted land. I was told that whenever _Atzee Johannes_ visits
King Theodore, the latter stands before him, as an acknowledgment
of his title to a crown which he could not defend. He receives an
annual pension from the Royal Treasury” (“Wanderings among the
Falashes in Abyssinia,” pp. 212, 213).]

[Footnote 70: Quoted in “Abyssinia Described,” J. C. Hotten,
pp. 122, 123.]

[Footnote 71: “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in
Deutschland,” 1881, vol. iii. pp. 26-31.]

[Footnote 72: Stecker wrote: “Es gehen nach Wansage Kranke aller
Art, und da es wenige Abyssinier giebt, die nicht syphilitisch wären,
so sieht man meistens nur Patienten, die gegen Lustseuch und ihre
Folgen hier Heilung zu finden glauben” (“Mittheilungen,”
p. 23). As far as my experience goes, this overstates the case a
little, but the complete disregard of morality by both sexes—a
matter about which the clergy do not trouble themselves—has
rendered disease of this kind extremely common. The pest of internal
parasites, which is the bane of all classes of Abyssinians, and is
almost universal among them, is undoubtedly due to their disgusting
habit of eating raw meat. They devour flesh warm and quivering
from the newly slaughtered carcase, and Bruce asserted that in
his time they habitually cut the meat from the living animal, and
continued to do so until it bled to death. This would be an unusual
barbarity, and Parkyns saw no instance of it, though he believed
Bruce’s statement to have been true when he made it (“Life in
Abyssinia,” p. 204). Mr. Wylde has given another explanation of what
Bruce observed (“Modern Abyssinia,” p. 153). But, whatever may be
the fact as to this particular, the habit of eating uncooked flesh
prevails everywhere in the country. I noticed that the ceremonial
practices of the Mussulmans appeared to save them both from tænia
and scabies. But, in spite of their ablutions, they are infested, like
the rest of the inhabitants, with body lice. Mohammedans are regarded
with disdain by the Christian Abyssinians, and the prejudice against
them, as I have said, accounts for some of the uncleanliness of the
Christians. To wash much or regularly is to behave like a Mussulman.]

[Footnote 73: “Life in Abyssinia,” pp. 282, 283.]

[Footnote 74: “Pastillos Rufillus olet, Gargonius hircum.” Horace,
_Sat._ I. 2.]

[Footnote 75: _Cf._ p. 42.]

[Footnote 76: “This official is called a ‘_balderabba_,’ and
is intrusted with a traveller’s safety” (Stern, “Wanderings
among the Falashes,” p. 96), and “becomes a sort of agent, and
expects you to acknowledge by presents, any service he may render
you, such as assisting you out of difficulties in which you may be
involved” (Parkyns, “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 72)]

[Footnote 77: Quoted in “Abyssinia Described,” p. 129.]

[Footnote 78: “Narrative of the British Mission to Theodore,
King of Abyssinia,” by Hormuzd Rassam, F.R.G.S. Murray,
1896. Vol. i. pp. 317, 318.]

[Footnote 79: See p. 223.]

[Footnote 80: “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in
Deutschland,” 1881, vol. iii. pp. 24, 25.]

[Footnote 81: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” pp. 492-496.]

[Footnote 82: Cf. such a Spanish name for a man as José _Maria_.]

[Footnote 83: “Narrative of the British Mission to King Theodore,”
vol. i. p. 229.]

[Footnote 84: “Narrative of the British Mission to King Theodore,”
vol. i. p. 314.]

[Footnote 85: “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in
Deutschland,” 1881, vol. iii. p. 27.]

[Footnote 86: See p. 151.]

[Footnote 87: Hormuzd Rassam, “British Mission to King Theodore,”
vol. i. p. 315.]

[Footnote 88: Father Lobo reached Abyssinia in 1624.]

[Footnote 89: Father Lobo, who landed on the east coast of Africa,
had never heard of the White Nile—this is made evident by his
discourse upon the Abai—and believed the head-waters of the Blue
Nile to be the origin of the whole river.]

[Footnote 90: In the map reproduced in this volume, the course of
the Abai through Lake Tsana is marked by arrows. Its current can be
quite plainly distinguished, as Father Lobo says, from the surrounding
water. The circumstance was remarked by Dr. Stecker.]

[Footnote 91: See p. 256.]

[Footnote 92: Stern mentions “a solid stone bridge of seven
arches—one of the few monuments left by the Portuguese,” which in
his time spanned the Reb. He called the stream Erib (“Wanderings
among the Falashas,” p. 169). Both he and Dufton crossed that
river by this bridge. In all probability it was constructed by the
artificers who built the arch over the Abai. I do not know whether
the Reb bridge is still standing. We forded the stream, as has been
said, and were not aware at the time that it had ever been bridged.]

[Footnote 93: The bulbous roots here mentioned are probably those
of the “red-hot poker” plant, which grows abundantly in damp
places in the higher regions of Abyssinia.]

[Footnote 94: “Travels to discover the Sources of the Nile in the
years 1768, 1769, 1770, 1771, 1772, and 1773,” by James Bruce of
Kinnaird, Esq., F.R.S.]

[Footnote 95: “Life of Bruce,” by Major F. P. Head, pp. 276-278.]

[Footnote 96: Whips made of thongs of hippopotamus hide, which serves
both for lash and handle.]

[Footnote 97: This is a military title, and means “Commander of
Advance Guard.” (A. Wylde, “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 495).]

[Footnote 98: We saw few bananas and none of these pigs in 1903.]

[Footnote 99: “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft in
Deutschland,” 1881, vol. iii. pp. 30, 31.]

[Footnote 100: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 13.]

[Footnote 101: “The Anatomy of Vertebrated Animals,” p. 367. This
little animal is the coney of the Scriptures.]

[Footnote 102: Since we were by the lakeside a decree has been
issued that the hippos, for their misdeeds in destroying crops
and overturning _tankoas_, are to be treated as _vermin_, and
shot whenever opportunity arises; so I fear that these ancient
“riparian owners” will soon disappear from their pleasant and
immemorial haunts.]

[Footnote 103: We found these shells and oysters in all the rivers
to which our journey brought us. They are especially abundant in
the shallow pools of the Atbara.]

[Footnote 104: I have already said that the island of Dek seems to
me to have been chiefly formed by siltage.]

[Footnote 105: “Mittheilungen der Afrikanischen Gesellschaft
in Deutschland,” 1881, vol. iii. p. 28. The following general
description of the lake district embodied by Mr. Dupuis in his Report
on the Expedition, and published in Sir W. Garstin’s Despatch
already cited (Ed. 2165, 1904, p. 215), is terse and interesting:

“The depression occupied by the lake is, generally speaking,
saucer-shaped, the land rising from the edge of the water in gentle
undulating plains, getting steeper and steeper and terminating in
considerable hills or mountains of some importance. In several places,
as at Gorgora on the north, Mitraha and Koratsa on the east, Zegi
on the south, and Dengelber on the west, the hills come right down
to the lake and descend more or less abruptly into the water, but
more often they stand back at some distance from it. The geological
formation is almost everywhere of the same primitive character
that seems to be universal in the Eastern Soudan, granite, gneiss,
and quartz, varied only by tracts of lava, basalt, and eruptive
rocks. Sandstone is reported by some travellers, and lime-stone is
said to be found near Gondar, but I saw neither myself. The large
tracts of comparatively level land consist almost entirely of the
cracked black cotton soil usually found associated with igneous
rocks. At the mouths of all the larger rivers flowing into the lake
are extensive alluvial plains generally composed wholly of this same
cotton soil, and of the greatest fertility, though nine-tenths of
their area now grows nothing more valuable than coarse grass.”]

[Footnote 106: “Modern Abyssinia,” pp. 40-43.]

[Footnote 107: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 42.]

[Footnote 108: _Adansonia digitata_. These are tall trees, whose
timber is of a spongy consistency. Sir S. Baker mentions one which
was about forty feet in circumference. He wrote: “The _Adansonia
digitata_, although a tree, always reminds me of a gigantic fungus;
the stem is disproportioned in its immense thickness to its height,
and its branches are few in number, and as massive in character
as the stem. The wood is not much firmer in substance than cork,
and is as succulent as a carrot.” (“The Nile Tributaries of
Abyssinia,” p. 356.)]

[Footnote 109: Governor.]

[Footnote 110: “If God is willing.”]

[Footnote 111: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” pp. 124, 125.]

[Footnote 112: “Life in Abyssinia,” pp. 385, 386.]

[Footnote 113: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” p. 240.]

[Footnote 114: This blight is known as “asal,” or “honey,”
from the sticky deposit formed all over the plant and leaves. At the
time of the expedition it prevailed more or less severely throughout
the greater part of the Kassala Moudirieh. The stalks of the plants
attacked become black.]

[Footnote 115: These are watertanks of galvanized iron. Two of them
form a camel’s load.]

[Footnote 116: Mr. Dupuis’s account of this place has been published
in Sir W. Garstin’s Report (p. 219), and is in the following
terms: “This is a very remarkable spot, and the probable site
of large canal works in the future, if such are ever undertaken
on the Atbara. Just above the “meshra,” or watering-place,
the Atbara flows in a narrow deep trench, perfectly straight for
a couple of miles or so, with a width of little over one hundred
metres, and a depth of about ten metres all across the pool when at
summer level. The sides of this trench are nearly vertical cliffs
of extremely hard granitic rock rising twenty metres or more from
the water. At the meshra this trench suddenly fans out into a wide
shallow channel, the pool ceases, and the river breaks up into three
or four separate branches, amidst a confusion of rocky islands, and
is not fully re-united into a single stream for several miles. The
rocky substratum through which the river has cut its way here gives
little or no indication of its presence in the level uplands, which
continue as before to form an unbroken bush-covered plain of black
soil up to within a couple of miles or so of the river, where it
suddenly breaks into ravines.”]

[Footnote 117: “Life in Abyssinia,” pp. 102, 103.]

[Footnote 118: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” p. 66.]

[Footnote 119: “This peculiar fly is about the size of a wasp, with
an orange-coloured body, with black and white rings; the proboscis
is terrific, it is double, and appears to be disproportioned, being
two-thirds the length of the entire insect. When this fly attacks an
animal, or man, it pierces the skin instantaneously, like the prick
of a red-hot needle driven deep into the flesh. At the same time the
insect exerts every muscle of its body by buzzing with its wings as
it buries the instrument to its greatest depth. The blood starts from
the wound immediately, and continues to flow for a considerable time;
this is an attraction to other flies in great numbers, many of which
would lay their eggs upon the wound.” (“The Nile Tributaries of
Abyssinia,” pp. 184, 185.)]

[Footnote 120: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” pp. 107,
109, 110.]

[Footnote 121: Water-sack. These are made from skins.]

[Footnote 122: “The Nile Tributaries of Abyssinia,” pp. 240, 241.]




          A NOTE ON THE RELIGION, CUSTOMS, ETC., OF ABYSSINIA


In _The Pall Mall Gazette_ of August 19, 1904, an interesting account
of an interview with M. Hugues Leroux was published. M. Leroux
had just returned from a “diplomatic and scientific mission”
to Abyssinia. He had been the bearer of an autograph letter from
M. Loubet to the Emperor Menelek. M. Leroux brought back much
interesting information which concerns only the present circumstances
of the country—_e.g._ that the Emperor “is striving to follow out
what he himself calls a policy of good-humour. He wants to be on good
terms with all the world, but he does not want to be devoured. He is
anxious to open up Abyssinia, but to commerce, not to conquest.”
And again, “he has at last granted permission for the railway from
Djibouti, which hitherto went only as far as Harrar, to be carried
up to Addis Abiba. He will probably refuse the British and Italian
requests to build branch lines connecting this railway with Zeila
and Massouah, the towns on the coast to the north and the south
of Djibouti which belong respectively to Great Britain and Italy,
his comment upon this scheme being, ‘I would like one ladder up
to my front door, but not three.’”

M. Leroux had been entrusted with an autograph reply from the
Emperor Menelek to the President of the French Republic. But he bore
away from Ethiopia a much more interesting document, which—if
it is genuine and is rightly described by the traveller and the
interviewer—is invaluable for the clue that it gives to the origin
of the Abyssinian nation. It is said to be “a most extraordinary
Abyssinian manuscript, which is certain to make a great sensation
when the translation of it is published, for it throws a flood of
light upon the early history of the Jews. The Abyssinian monarchs
have always considered this manuscript to be among their most sacred
possessions. It was appropriated by the English at the capture of
Magdala, but on Emperor John succeeding to the throne, he opened
diplomatic negotiations and recovered it from the British Museum,
where it had been deposited. It is written in the Geez language,
which is of Hebraic origin, of great antiquity, and known only to the
priests. It relates that after the plagues of Egypt some hundreds
of thousands of Jews did not follow Moses across the Red Sea, but
went west, down the Blue Nile, to found a kingdom of their own,
which they called Saba—‘Saba’ merely meaning west. These were
the original Abyssinians.”

We are told that “the original of this manuscript had remained
seventeen hundred years in an island of Lake Zouai, whose inhabitants
are still of the purest Jewish type, but they were Christianized
at a very early date, and their religion has now degenerated into
fetishism. They knew nothing as to the contents of the manuscript,
which they nevertheless regarded as a very precious object.”
Whatever may be the real antiquity of this document its existence and
the importance attributed to it seem to give evidence of a tradition
of great age, and this tradition offers a credible explanation of the
fact that such a people as the Abyssinian is found in the mountains
of East Africa. No doubt the Habashes are now, almost universally,
a race of mixed blood, but they possess a national character which
is quite distant from that of the neighbouring tribes. The Semitic
invasion may have taken place immediately after the captivity of the
Jews in Egypt or at an earlier or later date, but it was powerful
enough to affect the whole polity and population of Ethiopia.

Generally, writers upon Abyssinia ascribe the incursion to the
reign of King Solomon, and this is in accordance with a legend
that is believed throughout the country. The Queen of Sheba was, of
course, the Queen of Ethiopia; her visit to the wise and much-married
king provided her with an heir; “her son Menelek was in due time
transmitted to his august sire. The young prince was duly instructed
in all the mysteries of Jewish law and science, and being anointed
king under the name of David, he was returned to his native land,
escorted by a large suite of the nobles of Israel, and a band of her
most learned elders under the direction of Ascarias, the son of Zadok,
the High Priest.

“The gates of the temple of Jerusalem were left unguarded, and the
doors miraculously opened in order that the holy ark of Zion and the
tables of the law might, without difficulty, be stolen and carried
away. The journey was prosperously performed, and the Queen-Mother,
on resigning the reins of authority to her son at her death, about
nine hundred and seventy years before the birth of Christ, caused
a solemn obligation to be sworn by all that henceforth no female
should hold sway in the land; and that those princes of the blood
royal upon whom the crown did not devolve should, until the succession
opened to them or during the natural term of existence, be kept close
prisoners on a lofty mountain; a cruel and despotic enactment which,
through a long succession of ages, was jealously observed.”[123]

“The impetuous zeal of the emigrants,” wrote Mr. Stern, “found
ample scope for its loftiest inspiration in the new world to
which they were transplanted, and in the course of a few years the
worship of the God of Israel extensively supplanted the idolatries
of Ethiopia.

“From these vague traditions,” the same writer prudently added,
“in which truth and fiction are inextricably jumbled together, the
inquirer does not gain much trustworthy information on the history
of Ethiopia and the settlement of the Jews in that country.”[124]

Mr. Augustus Wylde visited a charming and sequestered spot where,
according to one legend, the stolen ark was deposited. “We
halted for lunch just _vis-à-vis_ to the first sources of the
Taccazze. . . . Just before reaching the sources, on a hill on
the north side of the valley, is the church of Chevenan Gorgis, in
a splendid grove of juniper trees; immediately above the sources
on the hill is another church, also surrounded by juniper trees,
dedicated to Debbessa Jesu; tradition has it that when Menelek, the
son of the Queen of Sheba by King Solomon, came from Jerusalem with
the ark, it was placed on the ground at this spot, where he camped,
and these springs gushed forth, and he immediately ordered a temple
to be built on the spot.

“On leaving this camp Menelek commenced his march towards the
east, and on the bearers of the ark putting it down, after about
an hour’s march, they found that they could not move it, as it
firmly adhered to the ground. This spot is supposed by some of the
Abyssinians to be the true resting-place of the ark that was brought
from Jerusalem; there is a church built over the spot called Eyela
Kudus Michael. . . . It is nearly impossible for a stranger to obtain
admittance to this church, and the place in the Holy of Holies where
the ark is supposed to rest is shown to no one. This ark cannot be
in two places; the people of the north declare it is in the sacred
grove of Axum in the church of Selata Musser (place of Moses), and
the priests of the Eyela district declare it is in their church,
so they always quarrel and wrangle over this vexed question, the
same as European priests do over their sacred relics.”[125]

Perhaps the soundest opinion which can be formed under present
conditions as to the origin of the Abyssinian people has been
expressed by Mr. Wylde:—“The race, as the name Habash or
Abyssinian denotes, is a mixture, undoubtedly of very long standing,
but most likely of Jew with the inhabitants of Southern Arabia and
the non-negro races of Eastern Africa.”[126]

According to tradition, Christianity was introduced into the country
in the fourth century.

“In the year 330 after the birth of our Saviour, Meropius, a
merchant of Tyre, having undertaken a commercial voyage to India,
landed on the coast of Ethiopia, where he was murdered by the
barbarians, and his two sons, Frumentius and Edesius, both devout men,
being made prisoners, were carried as slaves before the Emperor. The
abilities, the information, and the peaceable demeanour of the
brothers soon gained not only their release but high office in the
court; and living in the full confidence of the monarch until his
decease, and subsequently under the protection of the Queen-mother,
the good-will of the entire nation quickly succeeded. The work of
conversion was commenced, and proceeding with wonderful rapidity
and success, a thriving branch was shortly added to the great
Eastern Church.

“Bearing the happy tidings, Frumentius appeared in Alexandria, and
was received with open arms by the Patriarch Athanasius. Loaded with
honours, and consecrated the first bishop of Ethiopia, a relation
was thus happily commenced with Egypt, which has remained firm and
friendly to the present day, and throughout fifteen centuries has
bestowed upon a Coptish priest the high office of Patriarch Abouna
(_i.e._ our Father) of the Ethiopic Church.

“On his return to the country of his hopes, Frumentius found that
the spark of life had spread rapidly throughout the gloomy darkness of
the land. Baptism was instituted, deacons and presbyters appointed,
churches erected, and a firm foundation laid whereon to establish
the Christian religion in Abyssinia.

“During the succeeding century, priests and apostles, men of
wonderful sanctity, flocked into the Empire from all parts of the
East, and miracles the most stupendous are related in the legends
of those days. Mountains were removed, and the storms of the angry
ocean stilled by the mere application of the staff. The adder and the
basilisk glided harmless under foot, and rivers stayed their roaring
torrent, that the sandal of the holy man should remain unstained by
the flood. Aragáwi raised the dead—the fingers of Likános flamed
like tapers of fire—Samuel rode upon his lion; and thus the kingdom
of Arwé, the old serpent of Ethiop, was utterly overthrown.”[127]

The conservatism of the Abyssinian people in matters of religion is
well illustrated by the fact that throughout the many and violent
vicissitudes of their history since the introduction of Christianity
they have always received their Patriarch from the mother-church. His
position is one of great authority. “The chief man in the country
after the king of kings is the Abouna, or archbishop, the head of
the Church; without the Abouna no king can be crowned, and it is
he that, at his own or the king’s wish, can excommunicate any
of his subjects, or the king himself, if necessary, and then the
king can only rule by the strength of his followers who adhere to
him. These archbishops come from the Coptic Monastery at Alexandria
or Cairo, and when they reach Abyssinia, they never leave it on
any consideration.”[128] Moreover, “the Abyssinian Church,
in common with all other Christian communities in Asia and Africa,
is strictly episcopal. The Abouna, or primate, who is consecrated
to his office by the Patriarch of Alexandria, the revered successor
of St. Mark, can alone confer the priestly title. Every candidate,
before presenting himself for ordination, must have acquired some
knowledge in the reading of the sacred language of Ethiopia, and
in the complicated ceremonies of the liturgical service. On the day
appointed for ordination the primate, in full canonicals and seated
on the episcopal throne, receives the applicants for the sacred
office. All being properly ranged before the chair of St. Mark,
each candidate, instead of the imposition of hands, receives the
Abouna’s consecrating breath. Former archbishops, less scrupulous
than the present successor of Frumentius, indiscriminately breathed
on all, whether qualified or not, who could pay the requisite fee
of two salts—fourpence.[129]

“Deacons are selected from among boys, who are only allowed to serve
in the Church till they attain the age of twelve or thirteen; after
that period their purity of life is suspected, and they are no longer
considered fit to approach the sacred shrine of the _tabot_.[130]
The bishop and monks may not marry, while the priests may; and as,
on the death of their wives, they cannot contract a second alliance,
the reverend wooers invariably choose for their partners the most
robust and sprightly lasses in the land.

“The _debterahs_, or scribes, constitute the lowest but the most
influential body in the Church. These worthies enjoy no ecclesiastical
rank and are under no ecclesiastical discipline, and yet no service
can be properly performed unless they take part in it. Their chief
duty consists in chanting the Psalms and Liturgy, but their uncouth
gesticulation and discordant shouting, instead of elevating devotion,
tend rather, at least in European estimation, to convert the service
of God into a sinful burlesque and the sanctuary into a bedlam. The
scanty learning of the country is exclusively monopolized by this
order; and they are so proud of their erudition that they deem it a
disgrace to exchange, by the breathing of the Abouna, the proud title
of _debterah_ for the less learned appellation of _kas_, or priest.

“These literati, notwithstanding their better acquaintance with the
sacred volume and the lives of the saints, are considered the most
arrant scoundrels in the land. Gondar, which contains a considerable
number of the fraternity, is notorious for the dissolute profligacy
of its inhabitants; and it is proverbial throughout the country that
wherever _debterahs_ abound there vice and immorality thrive.”[131]

Mansfield Parkyns found that many of the _debterahs_, or _defterers_,
professed to practise witchcraft. He wrote: “There are persons
in the country who are supposed to be able to call up spirits and
obtain from them any information they may require. These men are
mostly _defterers_ (or Scribes), and are regarded with a certain
amount of rather dubious respect. The scene of their incantation is
generally some ravine, with a stream running through it. As I have
only heard the reports of the common people on the subject, I cannot
describe accurately what ceremonies are observed, or what form the
devil assumes on quitting the water at their summons. My informants,
however, assured me that he came as a great chief, with the usual
train of shield-bearers behind him and gunners before him.”[132]

The Abyssinian liturgy is not impressive, according to European
ideas. Stern was present at one of the services, and gave a lively
description of it. “The deafening tom-tom of the _negareet_,
intermingled with the nasal chorus of a host of _debterahs_ in
varying cadences, reverberated on my ear. This indication that the
service had already begun put a stop to our contemplation of the
grand mountain scene, and in a most reverent mood we hastened to the
uproarious sanctuary. A wooden gate in a circular wall brought us
within an open grassy space that formed the cemetery, and the spot
where, adjoining to the church, rises the Bethlehem in which the
priests prepare the eucharistic bread. A crowd of men and women,
as if in some place of amusement and dissipation, were spread in
picturesque knots over the soft turf. The majority were busily
plying their tongues, but I fear from the burst of merriment which
now and then broke from one or the other of those animated groups
that their conversations had very little to do either with religion
or the service in honour of the saint. Not belonging to this impure
class, who are justly excluded from the interior of the sacred edifice
(_i.e._ those whose marriage is secular and dissoluble), we mounted
a few steps, and then, through a partition occupied by the laity,
stepped into a second compartment concentric with the outer one, and
there found ourselves at the porch of the enclosure which constitutes
the _sanctum sanctorum_.

“Crowds of priests and _debterahs_ thronged the whole of that
corridor. The _debterahs_ constitute the choir in all their churches;
and their devotionless mien, as they chanted to the monotonous
sound of the _negareet_, quite excited my indignation. During the
maddening noise created by the _debterahs_, the priests, robed
in gaudy canonicals, were exerting to the utmost their cracked
voices in intoning the liturgy and psalms. At certain intervals
an ecclesiastic, clad in his garish finery, and attended by an
incense-waving boy-deacon and a bearer of the Ethiopic Gospel,
marched out of his sanctum into the cemetery to edify the godless
and profane multitude by reading to them a portion of Scripture in
an unknown tongue. A reverend gentleman near me, who was evidently
a great Church dignitary, as he wore a huge turban, and had a very
stupid unmeaning face, pointed his gaunt fingers towards the daubed
walls, and condescendingly inquired whether I knew St. George and
Miriam, the mother of God? . . .

“Unable to perform any religious rite without the savage
accompaniment of tinkling keys and other discordant sounds, the
sacrament of the mass (_Corban_), the most solemn service of the
Church, is also performed amidst the most confused and distracting
clangour. The liturgy and consecration service over, all, except
the communicants, leave the place of worship. These now approach
the vestibule of the holy of holies, where the officiating priests,
enveloped in clouds of incense, are busily occupied in washing their
hands—this ceremony is copied from Pilate’s example. The water,
which this act sanctifies, must not be spilled on the ground, but,
as a regeneration emblem, it is sprinkled on the bended heads and the
garments of the faithful, whilst the priest says, ‘If you think that
I have now cleansed your garments and purified your bodies, and yet
continue to cherish hatred and malice in your hearts, I tell you that
the body of Christ will prove to be a burning fire to consume you,
and His blood a bottomless sea to drown you!’ After this exhortation
the _tabot_, the substitute for the altar, is taken out of the holy
of holies, and each communicant receives a small piece of wheaten
bread and a spoonful of raisin wine. To prevent the desecration of
the sacred elements every one, before he quits the church, drinks
a cup of water, and also refrains from expectorating that day.”[133]

The ecclesiastical art of Abyssinia has already been mentioned. Stern
has given an account of a singular instance of its development and
of an equally strange result of the devotional use of pictures. He
visited “Kudus Yohannes, which next to that at Quosquam, is the
handsomest and most gorgeously bedaubed of the forty-four churches
in and around Gondar.” Here “one aspiring artist, weary perhaps
of the antiquated cherubims and saints, the blazing flames and
leafy bowers, which are the ordinary ornaments of the churches, had
sought immortal fame by painting quite a new subject—the Migration
of the Israelites. In his picture he represented them marching in
soldier-like attitude over the heaving and surging waves of the Red
Sea, clad in British uniform, with muskets and bayonets on their
shoulders.” Again, Major Harris, at the time of his mission to
Sahela Selassie, who was then Negus, had presented His Majesty with a
portrait of Queen Victoria. This “lay securely guarded amidst the
regalia of the Ethiopian Empire till the death of the despot. His
heir and successor, Hailu Malakot, to atone for some indiscretion,
presented it in pious contrition to the Cathedral Church, and there
the people flock on all grand festivities to worship it as the
representation of the Virgin Mary.”[134]

Reference has been made to certain Abyssinian saints, to whose
exploits Major Harris alluded. But these are neither the most notable
nor the most venerated in the ecclesiastical chronicles. Tekla
Haimanot—_facile princeps_—“is said to have converted the
devil, and induced him to become a monk for forty days, though
what became of him afterwards we are at a loss to know. The same
holy man, wishing to ascend a steep mountain with perpendicular
sides was accommodated in answer to prayer with a boa-constrictor,
which took him up on its back.”[135] Before the birth of this
saint, “a glorious light rested for several days over the parental
house. At the baptism of the child the priest was so dazzled by its
supernatural beauty that, lost in admiration, he dropped the babe,
and might have killed it, had not an invisible hand kept it suspended
above the hard floor.” In due course Tekla Haimanot became a monk,
and “the mortifications, self-imposed penances and incredibly long
fasts which followed his initiation into the monastic brotherhood are
faithfully recorded in the annals of the Church for the edification
of the faithful.” Later, he visited the Holy Sepulchre, after
marvellous adventures among the Moslems, and was subsequently ordained
priest by the Copt Patriarch in Egypt. He then proceeded to the Galla
country, where his mother had been kept prisoner, and converted the
heathen by hundreds of thousands. On one occasion he repaired to
the monastery of Debra Damo, but here “the brotherhood did not
much sympathize in the general jubilee that greeted the austere
monk. The monastery stands on the summit of a perpendicular rock,
and, being quite inaccessible, no visitor can reach it unless drawn
up by a rope. The Evil One did not like the ascetic to tamper with
the merry fellows on the rock, and, to effect his wicked purpose, he
maliciously cut the frail support when Tekla Haimanot was in mid-air,
and probably he would have been dashed to pieces in a ravine below,
had not immediately six wings unfurled themselves under his garb and
borne him aloft. In commemoration of this miraculous volant power,
the saint is represented, in most of the churches dedicated to him,
as nearly smothered in a profusion of gorgeous plumage.”

Tekla Haimanot’s ascetic practices in “tenantless wastes and
malarious jungles” did not suffice him as the years advanced. “He
hit upon an original idea of mortifying the flesh. There is in Shoa a
small lake, which the saint in his peregrinations had often passed. To
these waters he now repaired. The good people who followed him from
all parts to hear his discourses and to obtain his blessing entreated
him not to expose his precious person to the alligators and other
aquatic monsters; but the holy man, who knew that all his exploits
for the glory of the Church had not yet been accomplished, fearlessly
stepped into the deep. Seven successive years he continued in the
water, and probably he would have expired on his liquid couch, had
not one of his legs dropped off. The clamour for this valuable relic
created quite a dissension in the Church, but the monarch judiciously
put a stop to the fierce war between the rival claimants by ordering
it to be kept as a Palladium in the royal metropolis. This sacred
talisman possesses more wonderful sanitary virtues than all the
drugs in the universe. Patients from every province of the country
visit the shrine to make votive offerings and to quaff the healing
water in which the saint’s leg is weekly washed.”[136]

That the miracles above related are stock miracles—if one may
use such a phrase—and that the same legends are connected with
more than one saint is evident from the following _gesta sanctorum_
cited by Mansfield Parkyns:—

“Gabro Menfus Kouddos (Slave of the Holy Ghost) was a great saint
from his birth; nay, more—he was born a saint. No sooner did he
enter the world than he stood up, and three days after his birth
he bowed his head thrice, saying in a distinct voice, ‘Glory be
to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.’ He never
tasted of his mother’s milk, nor during the whole period of his
life partook of food or drink of any sort. Once, when praying on a
mountain, he fell over a precipice two hundred cubits deep. Two angels
immediately joined their spread wings under him to support him; but
he refused their assistance, saying that he trusted to God alone for
help. Another time he was ascending a very high mountain, and, being
fatigued, the Holy Trinity came and assisted him. Many other equally
absurd and almost blasphemous stories are related of him; at last,
after a very long life, I forget of how many years, the Almighty sent
Azrael, the angel of death, to take him. But the saint refused to die,
saying, that as he had neither eaten nor drunk, he could not die. So
all the saints came to him in turn for the purpose of persuading him
to leave earth for Paradise. St. John the Baptist first addressed
him, saying that he had gone the way of all flesh, notwithstanding
his many privations and sufferings. Gabro Menfus Kouddos, however,
at once met him with the answer, ‘Yes; but _you_ could not fast
even for forty days, but fed on locusts and wild honey.’ Thus he
replied to all the saints, and at last even to the Virgin and our
Saviour. Still, however, the decrees of the Omnipotent must be obeyed,
and his life was taken from him; but then there was a dispute among
the elements as to what was to become of his body. The earth refused
to receive it, as he had never partaken of her produce. A similar
refusal was made by the water, for he had never taken a drop within
his lips. The fire had also equally strong objections. So the saint
was restored to life, and taken up alive into heaven. His tomb is,
however, shown at Zoukwahla in Shoa; but it is said to contain
only one of his ribs, which, at the time of his ascent to heaven,
he took out and left on earth as a memento for his followers.

“Abouna Aragawy was one of the nine missionaries sent to Abyssinia
by St. Athanasius. His doctrine and the miracles which he wrought
gained for him many followers; but from some of the unbelieving he
suffered persecution. This is the account given by some historians;
while others assert that, overcome by his popularity, he sought
retirement from this world, in order to devote the remainder of his
days to religious duty. Be it as it may, he came to the rock on which
is now the celebrated monastery of Debra Damo. After walking several
times round it, without finding any means of access to its summit,
he prayed to the Almighty, who sent him an enormous boa-constrictor,
which offered to carry him up in its mouth; but he said, ‘I fear
your mouth; turn round and let me take your tail.’ So the snake
did as he was desired; and the saint, holding fast by its tail,
was drawn up to the summit of the rock in perfect safety. The snake
having performed its duty offered to leave the saint if he wished
it; but Aragawy begged that it would remain, making, however, the
condition of its not alarming or destroying any of his disciples
who might come to visit him. They then took possession of the caves
and holes which are in the mountain, where they are by many supposed
to be still living. Some, however, pretend that the snake is dead;
but no one is so wanting in faith as for a moment to deny that
the saint yet lives there, and will continue to live till the day
of judgment. No curious person, however, dares to venture into the
cave. The monks will not allow lights to be taken in; and the people
assert that a spirit which protects the place will not permit any
one who enters to come out alive.

“When I first went to Rohabaita it was reported that an immense
snake had some years before been killed there by a hunter. The man
was severely reproached by the priests, who said that the snake
was the guardian angel of the place. It was reported to have been
twenty-seven cubits, or forty feet in length, and was probably of
the boa tribe.”[137]

Another saint of remarkable powers was Tederos (St. Theodore). He
resided at the hamlet near Rohabaita which now bears his name. Here,
“on the face of the rock is the little hole wherein he lived; it
is barely high enough for a person to squat in; and the marks worn
in the stone by the crown of his head, the soles of his feet, and
his elbows are still shown. His miracles were many. Among others,
a leopard ate up his son, the saint, returning home, missed him,
and set out in search of him. When in the forest he called aloud
to him three times, and at the third time the leopard appeared:
on seeing him, the saint guessed how the matter stood with the
unfortunate youth; but, nothing discouraged, he coolly ordered the
beast to return him safe and sound. Now this was rather difficult,
as the leopard had, no doubt, half digested him; nevertheless, so
great was the saint’s power that the boy left the leopard’s maw
none the worse, perhaps rather the better, for having been dismembered
and reconstructed. Being asked where a church should be built, the
saint threw his staff, desiring the inquirers to build where they
found the staff had fallen. After many days it was found several
miles off in Serawi, on the other side of the valley, exactly on
the spot where now stands the church of Debra Mariam.

“Many other wonderful stories were told me of his feats, but I
have forgotten them. The most useful act attributed to him was that
he caused the rock below him to become hollow, in order to receive
the rain-water. The hollow still exists, though I should strongly
suspect it to be of Nature’s construction; or, if the saint had
a hand in its design, he must have been a clumsy fellow, for with
half the labour he might have made a place capable of containing
twice the quantity of water.”[138]

Parkyns was not sure of the parentage of the youth who was disgorged
by the leopard. “I hope I am right in giving St. Theodore a son,”
he wrote. “I don’t know whether his being a father would preclude
his being a saint: however, it was a youth nearly related to him,
if I remember the story right.”

Some chroniclers “pretend that St. Matthew and St. Bartholomew
actually visited the country. Some even go so far as to assert that
the Virgin Mary herself, with the child Jesus, came into Abyssinia
when she fled to Egypt, and show a place in a high mountain which
is called her throne or seat.”[139] Bruce wrote that “in the
Synaxar, or history of their saints, one is said to have thrown the
devil over a high mountain; another persuaded him to live as a monk
for forty years; another had a holy longing for partridges, upon
which a brace perched on his plate—martyrs ready roasted.”[140]

“In many cases,” Parkyns wrote, “the patron saint is preferred
to the Almighty; and a man who would not hesitate to invoke the
name of his Maker in witness to a falsehood would have difficulty
in disguising his perjury if he were appealed to in the name
of St. Michael or St. George. It is also a well-known fact, and
most common of occurrence, that a favour besought in the name of
God would often be refused, while, if the request were immediately
after repeated in the name of the Virgin or of some favourite saint,
it would probably be granted. This may be observed in the appeal of
the common street beggar in Tigre, whose ordinary cry is, ‘Silla
Izgyheyr! Silla Medhainy Allam!’ (For the sake of God! For the
sake of the Saviour!)—while, if he be very importunate, he will
change his usual whining tone, and add with persuasive emphasis,
‘Silla Mariam! Silla Abouna Tekla Haimanout!’” (For the sake
of Mary! For the sake of Tekla Haimanout!)

It has already been said that Tekla Haimanot and other early
celebrities of the Church were monks. Monasteries are plentiful
in the land, and there are also hermits who practise asceticism in
desolate and lonely places. Mr. Herbert Vivian gained admission to a
conventual house, and has given a lively description of it.[141] The
sanctity of the Abyssinian monk or anchorite is in proportion to his
prowess in mortifying the flesh, and this class of men still retains
much religious _prestige_ and influence in the land. But probably
the pristine rigour of their life has been much relaxed, and the
remarks of Major Cornwallis Harris are applicable at the present time.

“Education was in former days to be obtained alone from the inmate
of the monastic abode, and a life of scanty food, austerity, and
severe fasting was embraced only by the more enthusiastic. But the
skin-cloak and the dirty headdress now envelope the listless monk,
who, satisfied with a dreamy and indolent existence, basks during
the day on the grassy banks of the sparkling rivulet, and prefers
a bare sufficiency of coarse fare to the sweeter morsel earned by
the sweat of the brow.”[142]

The same writer’s account of the consecration of a friar is
interesting. “The monk is admitted to the order of his choice by
any officiating priest. A prayer is repeated, the skull-cap blessed
with the sign of the cross, and the ceremony is complete. But a more
imposing rite attends the oath of celibacy before the Abouna. The
clergy assemble in numbers, and fires are lighted around the person
of the candidate. His loins are bound about with the leathern girdle
of Saint John, and the prayer and the requiem for the dead rise
pealing from the circle. The _glaswa_—a narrow strip of black cloth
adorned with coloured crosses—is then placed on the shaven crown,
and shrouded from view by the enveloping shawl; and the archbishop,
clad in his robes of state, having repeated the concluding prayer
and blessing, signs with his own hand the emblem of faith over the
various parts of the body.”[143]

Consul Plowden wrote in a somewhat censorious mood of the Abyssinian
regulars. “Monasteries are not wanting to complete the resemblance
to the Roman Catholic Church and to the Middle Ages, where every
immorality is practised; nor solitary hermits, who dwell in gloomy
forests, feeding on roots, and exposed to ferocious animals, and
who are sometimes as sincere as they are useless.” He added,
“nunneries alone are absent from the picture; though vows of
celibacy are sometimes taken, if rarely kept save at an advanced
age.”

With regard to religious sisterhoods he was in error. Bruce wrote
that, “all women who choose to renounce acquaintance with men are
allowed to turn priests, they then wear a skull-cap, like the men;
and these priests, male and female, all pretend to possess charms
of a nature both offensive and defensive, which are most generally
believed in.”[144] The same writer asserted that he and his party
on one occasion, after passing the River Taccazze, “at last reached
a plain filled with flowering shrubs, roses, jessamines, etc., and
animated by a number of people passing to and fro. Several of these
were monks and nuns from Waldubba, in pairs, two and two together. The
women, who are both young and stout, were carrying large burdens of
provisions on their shoulders, which showed that they did not entirely
subsist upon the herbs of Waldubba. The monks, their _compagnons de
voyage_, had sallow faces, yellow cowls, and yellow gowns.”[145]

Bruce may have been mistaken as to the character of these young
women; but not all who take the vows are strict in the observance
of them. Mr. Augustus Wylde met a nun in the flesh, a lady of
high rank in the country, whose charms were neither “offensive
nor defensive.” He wrote, “before getting to Mokareet we were
joined by Ras Mangesha’s young sister. She is supposed to be a nun
and devote her time to charity and good actions, and she has asked
permission of Hailou to join us and camp with us for the next three
or four days. I now quote from my diary—

“I believe this is a got-up job, as Hailou had his hair replaited
this morning and put on clean cloths, and the pair are evidently very
old friends. She is dressed in the most spotless white garments of the
very best quality, and is most clean and neat in her appearance. From
under her clean white hood a pretty face appears with a pair of
roguish merry eyes. . . . She sent over her pretty waiting-maid as
soon as camp was pitched, asking me to come and pay her a visit,
but I was too seedy with fever, so sent Schimper to make my excuses;
when he came back his first remark in his precise manner of talking
was: ‘Oh, Mr. Wylde, I do not think she is a very good lady, she
has asked me for many things, and she wants your umbrella.’ Of
course I had to send it, and next morning on the way to Merta I had
some of the sweetest of smiles, and we kept up a long conversation;
she had never seen an Englishman before, and she wanted to know if
they all had red heads and moustaches and were big men . . .

“I found out that she was considered very ‘rapid’ even for
Abyssinia, where the young ladies are fast, and that her brother
had sent her to a nunnery as he could not keep her in order, and she
absolutely refused to marry the men of his choice; she was changing
her quarters from one nunnery to another, and was evidently sweet
on Hailou.”

But Mr. Wylde had met other nuns, “good pious old ladies at
Abbi-Addi and Macalle, who fasted for over half the number of
days in the year, and were perpetually praying and singing from
the early grey dawn till late at night, and they seemed to live
a calm and peaceful life in their beautiful natural surroundings,
and bothered themselves very little with the troubles of this life,
and passed their days in eating, sleeping, and praying, and doing
what little acts of charity they could in the way of tending the
sick and feeding any poor beggars that came to their houses.”[146]

Many rites and ceremonies of Hebrew origin have been incorporated in
Abyssinian Christianity, _e.g._ circumcision is practised. Considering
the history and traditions of the people, this respect for Judaic
ordinances is not surprising. Major Harris devoted a chapter of his
book to “Abyssinian Rites and Practices which would appear to have
been borrowed from the Hebrews,” and most of the authors who have
written about the country have alluded to the same subject. Perhaps
the most remarkable example of the influence of Jewish doctrines is
the veneration in which the _tabot_ is held.

“The Jewish temple consisted of three distinct divisions—the
forecourt, the holy, and the holy of holies. To the first laymen
were admitted, to the second only the priest, and to the third the
high priest alone. All entrance was denied to the Pagan, a custom
which is rigorously enforced in Abyssinia; and her churches are in
like manner divided into three parts.

“Eight feet in breadth, the first compartment stretches, after the
fashion of a corridor, entirely around the building. It is styled
_Kene Máhelet_, and, strewed throughout with green rushes, forms the
scene of morning worship. To the right of the entrance is the seat of
honour for priests and erudite scribes; and beyond this court, save on
certain occasions, the bare foot of the unlearned layman cannot pass.

“_Makdas_ is the second compartment. This is the sanctuary in which
the priests officiate, and a corner is set apart for laymen during
the administration of the holy supper, whilst a cloth screens the
mysteries of the interior. Here also hang, arranged around the walls,
the bones of many deceased worthies, which have been carefully
gathered from the newly opened sepulchre, and are deposited by
the hand of the priest in cotton bags. By the nearest relative
the first opportunity is embraced of transporting these mouldering
emblems of mortality to the sacred resting-place of Debra Libanos,
where the living and the dead are alike blessed with a rich treasure
of righteousness, since the remains of Tekla Haimanot, the patron
saint of Abyssinia, still shed a bright halo over the scene of his
miracles upon earth.

“To _Kedis Kedisen_, the holy of holies, none but the Alaka[147]
is admitted. Behind its veil the sacrament is consecrated, the
communion vessels are deposited, and the tremendous mysteries of the
_tabot_, or ark of the covenant, are shrouded from the eyes of the
uninitiated. The gold of the foreigner has penetrated the secret
of the contents of this box, which are nothing more than a scroll
of parchment, on which is inscribed the name of the patron saint of
the church; but the priest who dared to open his lips on the subject
to one of his own countrymen would incur the heavy penalties due to
the sacrilege.”[148]

Another foreigner whose gold “penetrated the secret” of the _Kedis
Kedisen_ was Mr. Herbert Vivian. In company with a friend he was, for
a consideration of two dollars, admitted to the _sanctum sanctorum_
of the Church of St. Raguel at Entotto. “The custodians seemed
to know very well that they were doing wrong, and displayed huge
anxiety to get the thing over as quickly as possible. They hurried us
up the rickety steps, opened the door of the sanctuary, took great
care to keep us as far off as possible, and kept exclaiming, ‘Now
that is all. I hope you are satisfied. Let us go away again. You
ought really to give us some more dollars for what we have done.’
There was, however, really next to nothing to see. In the darkness
I could just make out the tabernacle inside the holy of holies. It
was a kind of ark, covered with cheap draperies and surmounted by
a crucifix. A few lanterns lay about. That was all. At any rate,
that was all that we could induce the priest to show us.”[149]

Mr. Hormuzd Rassam has given a sketch of a _tabot_ in his book, with
the following description: “The _tabot_ is a square block of wood
on which the emblem of the cross, with some appropriate passage of
Scripture, is sometimes represented. No church can be consecrated
without it, and in the church from which it has been removed the
Lord’s Supper cannot be celebrated. It is placed upon the altar
in the centre of the holy of holies, and by the ignorant clergy is
regarded with as much veneration as the consecrated elements.”[150]
Annually, on the eve of the festival which commemorates Christ’s
baptism, the _tabot_ is carried out of the church by the chief
officiating priest, “and left all night covered in a tent or
hut erected for the purpose near a stream or pool. At daybreak
the following morning it is taken to the water, and after being
sprinkled with a few drops is again enveloped in the church-cloth,
and replaced under the tent until the time arrives for its formal
restoration to the church—a grand religious ceremony, accompanied
with singing of psalms and dancing.” In this recessional solemnity,
which Mr. Rassam saw, “the priests led the way, bearing various
sacred symbols, and chanting psalms all the while, followed by a
train of about three hundred men and a score of damsels, all dancing,
singing, and screeching as they went.”[151]

The appearance of Abyssinian churches has already been alluded to,
but the following general description, given by Major Harris, may
serve to bring the principles of their construction clearly before
the reader. “There are, perhaps, more churches in Abyssinia than
in any other part of the Christian world; and he who has erected
one believes that he has atoned for every sin. But even the best
are very miserable edifices of wattle plastered with mud, only to
be distinguished from the surrounding hovels by a thin coating of
whitewash, which is dashed over the outside to point with the finger
of pride to the peculiar privilege of the two great powers in the
land. Circular in form, with a door to each quarter of the compass,
and a conical thatch, they have an apex surmounted by a brazen cross,
which is usually adorned with ostrich eggs; and the same depraved and
heathenish taste pervades the decorations of the interior. Sculpture
is strictly forbidden; but the walls are bedaubed with paintings
of the patron saint of the church, the Blessed Virgin, and a truly
incongruous assemblage of cherubim and fallen angels, with the
evil one himself enveloped in hell flames. Timbrels and crutches
depend in picturesque confusion from the bare rafters of the roof,
and no ceiling protects the head from the descent of the lizard
and the spider.”[152] Mr. Hormuzd Rassam has given a sketch of
the ground plan of an Abyssinian church, showing the entrances and
“courts.”[153] According to him “the outer enclosure is for
the congregation generally, male and female, the former occupying
the western portion, and praying with their faces towards the east;
the latter standing opposite to them and facing the west.”[154]

The “crutches” mentioned by Major Harris astonished Mr. Vivian
at a later date. He saw them in a monastery, and “imagined they
had been contributed by lame people, to whom the saint of the
place had restored the use of their legs. As a matter of fact,
however, they were merely the crutches which every priest uses in
the ritual of the dance.”[155] The manner in which these singular
adjuncts of the priestly office are employed has been described by
Mr. Vivian. He attended a service at Trinity Church in Addis Abiba,
and has given a very interesting account of the ceremonies. At a
certain stage “all the priests grasp their long crutches and go
through a kind of gymnastic exercise, which reminds me of the use
of spears at a Somali dance. The crutches are five feet long, and
must, I imagine, have originally taken their origin from spears,
adapted for civilian use. The tops are either of ivory or brass,
some of them elaborately carved. . . . One priest acts as conductor,
and the others imitate his movements, all singing loudly through
their noses. . . . The crutches are held in the middle and darted
at the ground, now near, now far, with a forward movement made by
slightly bending the right knee. It is as though spears were being
poised and aimed playfully at objects on the floor. The crutches are
then lifted, crook end up, a foot into the air, they are poised,
they are swung, with ever-increasing vigour. All of a sudden the
whole exercise ceases without any warning whatever.”[156]

Major Harris wrote, with regard to certain other clerical
functions—“The Father Confessor is bound to the strictest secrecy;
and it is believed that on this point a dread oath is taken before
ordination, when all the mysteries are expounded by the Abouna,
and especially those which have reference to the preparation of
bread for the holy supper. In a small house styled Bethlehem,[157]
which rises immediately behind every church, the mysterious ceremony
is performed. The deacon can alone bake the cake; and the most
vigilant guard is invariably preserved against the approach or
intrusion of females or other improper visitors during the hour of
solemn preparation.”[158]

The first appendix to Vol. III. of Major Harris’s book contains
a list of the sacred writings used by the Abyssinian Church. These
include, _inter alia_—

  The Old Testament.

  The four gospels with readings, and all the other books of the
  New Testament.

  _Genset._ A book used in funeral solemnities, ascribed to Athanasius,
  and stated to have been discovered by Helena at the digging out of
  the Holy Cross.

  _Retna Haimanot._ The orthodox faith.

  _Henoch._ The prophecies of Enoch.

  _Gadela Tekla Haimanot._ Life of Tekla Haimanot. (And the lives of
  many other saints.)

  _Synodos._ Canons of the Church, attributed to the Apostles.

  _Sena Febrak._ History of the Creation; containing certain fabulous
  traditions concerning the Creation and the Antediluvian world, said
  to have been communicated to Moses on Mount Sinai, but not recorded
  in the Book of Genesis.

  _Tamera Mariam._ Miracles of the Holy Virgin, wrought during her
  sojourn in Abyssinia, where she is said to have tarried three years
  and six months with the infant Jesus, before her return to Palestine.

  _Nagara Mariam._ Words of the Holy Virgin.

  _Ardeet._ Words said to have been spoken by Christ before his
  ascension.

  _Kedasie._ Liturgy of the Abyssinian Church.

  _Gadela Adam._ History of Adam.

  _Auda Negest._ Book for prognostication.

  _Kufalik._ Mysteries revealed to Moses on Mount Sinai, not written
  in the Pentateuch.

  _Serata beita Chrestian._ Institutions of the Christian Church.

  _Degwa._ Book of anthems, in which all the pieces of the liturgy
  that are chanted are set to music by St. Yareed, a native of Simien,
  who lived thirteen centuries ago and is believed to live still.

  _Lefafa Zedik._ Prayers and spells against evil spirits and diseases,
  a book much esteemed, and buried along with the corpse.

  _Zalota Musa._ Prayers of Moses against the influence of evil
  spirits.

  _Melka Michael._ Prayers to St. Michael.

  _Mazafa Tomar._ A letter which Christ is said to have written.

  _Germama._ Prayers to frighten evil spirits.

  _Fekaric Yasoos._ Christ’s prophecy of the consummation of the world.

  _Haimanot Abao._ Doctrines of the Abyssinian Church, comprising
  extracts from the Holy Scriptures, from synods, councils, and
  writings of the Fathers.

  _Gelota Monakosat._ Prayers of the monks.

  _Felekisus._ Book on monastic subjects.

  _Gadela Yob._ Life of Job.

  _Raia Miriam._ Dream of the Holy Virgin.

  _Gadela Samoetal._ Lives of the martyrs.

The second appendix of the same volume contains a summary of the
“Senkesar, or Synaxaria, being a _Collectio Vitarum Sanctarum_
together with the Calendar of the Ethiopic Christian Church.” The
compiler of the summary wrote, “The following calendar, translated
from the Latin of Ludolf, has been considerably enlarged by a
comparison at Ankóber with a complete copy of the ‘Senkesar.’
The lives of the Saints, or the detail of miracles written against
each day, are publicly read in the churches at the services beginning
at the cock’s first crowing.”

The first month of the Abyssinian year is September. It is not
surprising that in the long list of saints, patriarchs, prophets,
martyrs, virgins, hermits, kings, “Fathers,” presbyters,
emperors, and male and female ascetics whose deeds are commemorated
between New Year’s Day (September 1, by Ethiopian reckoning) and
the festival of St. Andrew and Moses, Bishop of Ferme, (being the
thirtieth and last day of August according to the same computation),
there should occur many names of worthies who are unknown to most
European readers. For instance—

  Abba Anbasa, who rode upon a lion.

  Eustathius, who brought a dead child back to life. (This miracle is
  attributed to many of the saints.)

  Ananias, who baptized St. Paul.

  Pantaleon.

  Jemrah, a martyr. On the spot where his blood was spilt there grew
  up a fine vine.

  Naakweto-Laab, the last Emperor of Ethiopia, of the family of
  Zague. He did not die.

  Cosmus, Metropolite. It is said that the image of Mary shed tears
  when it beheld his excruciating tortures.

  The two hundred and ninety-two brothers and forty-nine sisters
  of Cosmus.

  Abba Marina, who was discovered after death to have been a woman.

  Barsufius.

  Johannes Cama, whose fingers and nails seemed burning like candles
  during prayer.

  Abba Libanus, who brought water out of a rock.

  Daniel, the woman-hater, who vowed never to look at a woman.

  The forty-nine old hermits.

  Joseph, who was saved out of a fiery oven.

  The 80,107 martyrs with Isidorus.

  Atom and Arianus.

  Eusebius, who, “being threatened to be burnt, was taken to heaven
  by Uriel the archangel, and remained there fourteen years.”[159]

And many others whose sanctity is as little known in the Western
Churches.

If there is anywhere a leisured and adventurous student of comparative
hagiology, he would obtain some interesting results by tracing the
origin and growth of the legends which glorify these worthies.

A survey of what has been said shows that Consul Plowden was fully
justified when he wrote, “the Christianity professed and taught
in Abyssinia is much materialized.” Nevertheless, the credulity
and superstition which prevail in the country are not in essence
grosser than the unwarranted beliefs which were accepted in Europe
when the _Aurea Legenda_ passed as sound devotional reading, and it
would be as unjustifiable to judge the intellectual capability of the
Habashes by their faith in myths as it would have been to estimate
the ability of our forefathers by a similar standard. Nor is it
certain that any sudden reformation would improve the religious
state of the people. An intemperate zeal for enlightening them
might, by introducing an ideal far above their real sympathies and
comprehension, discredit the old conceptions without effectually
substituting the new. Moreover, the fabulous feats of the saints
may require a cautious and sparing criticism; for to differentiate
the degrees of probability in miracles, among an unscientific
but argumentative race, would, perhaps, be more likely to promote
scepticism as to all thaumaturgy than to lead to the repudiation of
certain miracles and the continued acceptance of others.

It is, of course, the fact that at present “religion” consists
of little more than a mere series of outward observances. Veneration
of the fabric of the church takes the place of devotion within its
precincts. Dufton wrote:—“The prayers are read in Ethiopic”
(Geez), “a language which the people know nothing about, so that
little profit can be derived from the service. Indeed, most persons
content themselves with kissing the floor or the walls of the edifice,
and such is a criterion of a man’s piety; he kisses the church,
they say, and so esteem him a good Christian. Some will utter a
prayer. The petition takes a form similar to the following, which
an old woman was heard to offer up during my visit, though the last
clause is probably in most cases omitted—

“‘O Lord, give me plenty to eat and drink, good raiment, and a
comfortable home, or else kill me outright!’”

Mr. Vivian visited the Church of the Blessed Virgin at Entotto,
and noticed that all the Abyssinians who were with him “hastened
to kiss the floor-beam and side-posts or lintels of the door in the
outer wall.” And at Trinity Church in Addis Abiba “whenever a
peasant approached the church on a mule, he dismounted and kissed a
large black stone which stood some twenty yards away. Other persons
of a more pious turn of mind went right up to the entrance and kissed
not only the lintels, but even the floor-beam of the doorway. This
was also done by everybody who was coming to church, and my servant,
in whom I had never detected any semblance of piety on the road,
was particularly punctilious in this respect.”[160]

But it is not the case that the Habashes avoid all religious duties
that are irksome. Parkyns wrote: “Their fasts are more numerous
perhaps than those of any other Christian people, more than two-thirds
of the year being assigned to abstinence. Nor in their fasting do
they get off as easily as Roman Catholics; for it is not sufficient
that they should abstain from animal food only; an Abyssinian,
during fast-time, neither eats nor drinks anything till late in the
afternoon. . . . It is true the Mohammedans do nearly the same during
their month of Ramadan; but they only change the day into night,
feasting during the night-time on more luxurious food than many of
them could allow themselves during the remainder of the year; while
the Abyssinian, when he does eat, confines himself to dried peas,
dressed in a sort of bad oil, or to an equally unpalatable dish made
of a kind of spinach, called ‘hamly’ or ‘goummen.’ . . . Many
of the Abyssinian fasts are of long duration. The time of day when
the people may eat is determined by the length of a man’s shadow,
measured by his own feet, and varies in different fasts. Thus the fast
of Advent is during the last ten days of the month Hedar (October)
and the whole of Tahsas (November), and during each day till a man’s
shadow measures nine and a half feet. The fast of Lent lasts till
sunset during fifty-five days. . . . Besides these are the Wednesdays
and Fridays, making nearly 260 days of fasting. . . . Some of the
priests are very rigorous in keeping all these fasts, and many even
voluntarily add a number for their own observance. The people, too,
in general are tolerably attentive to this duty; and I have frequently
met with men undergoing extreme labour, yet persevering in what they
have been brought up to consider as one of the most essential parts of
their religion; for, strictly speaking, a man who has been known to
neglect the rules of the Church is looked upon almost as an infidel,
and should he die in such a state of disobedience, his body would
be refused sepulture in the churches. Good Friday and the following
day are passed by the priests and the rigidly devout in an absolute
fast of forty-eight hours.”[161]

Plowden remarked: “So much do they attach importance to this
(fasting) and other outward forms that a man of Hamazayn[162]
will slay his near relative, and returning home calmly, will be
horror-stricken should his wife have ground flour on a saint’s day,
or prepared his meal before the hours of fasting have expired.”[163]

It must be owned that the Habashes recompense themselves as far as
possible for the severity of their abstinence by gluttony at the
numerous feasts which the Church also ordains.

Major Cornwallis Harris drew attention to a singular custom in the
following words—“Fasts, penances, and excommunication form the
chief props of the clerical power; but the repentant sinner can always
purchase a substitute to undergo the two former, and the ban of the
Church is readily averted by a timely offering.”[164] This seems
to indicate an opinion among the Abyssinians that a sin is expiated
not by the contrition of the evil-doer, but by a formal amount of
punishment undergone somewhere by some one—no matter by whom.

The Abyssinian Church teaches, and the great majority of the people
accept, the doctrine of transubstantiation. Those who hold this
belief “assert that the actual body and blood of our Saviour are
partaken of by the faithful, but that an angel takes them away from an
unbeliever, and restores the bread and wine, in his hands, in their
natural state, such as they were previous to the benediction. The
wine is merely an infusion of dried raisins.”[165] Stern tells the
story of a miracle which is supposed to have established the fact
of transubstantiation, and adds, “The erudite reject the legend,
and, in their sentiments, approximate to the Lutheran doctrine of
consubstantiation.”[166] The Church also teaches the doctrine
of purgatory and that “prayers for the dead are necessary,
and absolution indispensable. The souls of the departed do not
immediately enter upon a state of happiness, the period being in
exact accordance with the alms and prayers that are expended upon
earth.”[167] Stern declared that “the number of masses requisite
for the repose of the soul has not been defined by the Church, and
thus the misery or bliss of the defunct is at the mercy of niggardly
relatives and exacting priests.”[168] Both writers attribute the
introduction of this opinion to the Jews.

The badge of Ethiopian Christianity, worn by all classes, is the
_mateb_, a blue neck-thread of silk or wool. This is the distinctive
mark of the Abyssinians’ creed; they hardly believe that one
who does not wear it is in reality a Christian, and, said Dufton,
besides disdaining their Mohammedan and Jewish neighbours, “they
often include in their contempt every form of Christianity even which
does not conform to their own”[169]—in which prejudice they are
not so singular as at a first glance they may appear to be. Commonly
a silver ring or cross is attached to the cord.

The general character of the clergy appears from what has already
been related. Parkyns saw them in remote places and in their
least spiritual aspect. For instance, in describing the feast on
St. Michael’s day at Addy Harisho, he wrote: “An old priest came
up to me and offered, on the part of himself and his brethren, to
perform, if I pleased, the religious dance and song used by them on
such occasions. I never shall forget their ludicrous efforts to appear
graceful, at the same time staggering every step; while the expression
of devotion they affected to assume was reduced to a languid smile
and thickening eyelids, expressive of nothing but liquor. A hiccup or
two occasionally interfered with the solemn words they were chanting;
and the stately movements they had begun with changed gradually,
and by degrees the dance became a reel, or rather reeling movement,
the words only which accompanied it remaining solemn. At last an old
priest, suddenly forgetting the original chant, changed its words
to those of a jovial drinking ditty: ‘Don’t you stop the liquor,
and I will dance for ever!’ Instead of the marks of disapprobation
from his fellow-priests, they only burst into a loud laugh, and,
declaring the entertainment to be changed for the better, all with
one consent followed his example and his tune.”[170]

Nevertheless, Parkyns wrote of the priests with tolerance and good
humour. And it is worthy of note that two other British writers
who knew the country well have had a good word to say for the
clergy. Plowden, after mentioning some of their faults, observed:
“It is just to say that they have preserved the Christian faith,
impure indeed, but still alive, in the midst of foreign invasion,
domestic degradation, and the extinction of Government, and that it
is under their protection that agriculture flourishes, and villages
are built where deserts would else be seen.”[171] Mr. Augustus
Wylde, among several remarks in a similar sense, said: “I have
found the clergy, if left alone, peaceable, simple-minded men, very
hospitable and always willing to do me a good turn, and ready to
help me and pass me on to their neighbouring friends, and I expect
other travellers would find them the same as long as they treated
them properly.”[172]

An interesting instance of the survival of a Jewish institution among
the Christians of Abyssinia is that of Cities of Refuge. Plowden
wrote, “All the larger towns are entirely under their (the
priests’) control, and being cities of refuge, sacred even from
the Ras, are filled with dissolute and dangerous characters.”[173]
Parkyns mentioned Axum as a place of this kind, and added, “at
Adoua the whole of that part called after the church, in fact the
parish, is sanctuary (‘guddam’), and no person having taken
refuge there can be arrested, although he walk about the public
streets in broad daylight, so long as he does not pass the parish
boundaries.”[174] Stern alluded to the subject, and had formed
the impression that churches in general were sanctuaries. “In
most cases the murderer may elude the violent rage of his pursuers
by taking refuge in a church, where the priests will negotiate the
price of his release.”[175] He mentioned also certain rivers—the
Taccazze and the Abai—forming the limits of provinces, which the
“avenger of blood” may not pass.[176]

The Jewish Sabbath is still held in veneration by the Abyssinian
Christians. Parkyns observed that a feast called “adam Souaur,”
or “left Saturday,” was observed, “as that day was formerly
the Jewish Sabbath, but given up by the Christians for the Sunday at
the time of the resurrection of our Saviour. The priests collect a
quantity of rushes, and bless them in the church; and then a priest
and a deacon take them out into the parish, the deacon carrying the
bundle, and the priest distributing the rushes to all passers-by,
binding them on the head of the receiver. They also visit the houses
with them, and generally receive a handsome present.”[177] It would
be interesting to discover the origin of this custom. Major Harris,
writing in 1843, said, “The Jewish Sabbath is strictly observed
throughout the kingdom. The ox and ass are at rest. Agricultural
pursuits are suspended. Household avocations must be laid aside,
and the spirit of idleness reigns throughout the day.”[178] The
same writer has given a brief history of the observance.[179]

It is well known that at one time Abyssinia was, so far as the
Emperor’s power extended at that period, converted to Roman
Catholicism by the instrumentality of Portuguese missionaries. The
connection with Portugal commenced in 1499, when Pedro Covilham
penetrated by way of the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, to Shoa,
where the Emperor then held his court. He was well received. An
ancient Ethiopian law decreed that no foreigner who reached Abyssinia
should be allowed to leave the country, but Covilham was permitted to
send home an account of his experiences. At a later date a further
communication from the traveller induced the Portuguese Government
to despatch an embassy, which, after many privations and adventures,
arrived in Shoa in October, 1520. It brought no presents, and was not
cordially welcomed. However, the Emperor desired to send an answer
to the King of Portugal, and therefore—in defiance of the ancient
usage—allowed the ambassador to return to Lisbon, taking with him
an Ethiopian envoy. But certain of the Portuguese were detained in
Abyssinia, among whom was a priest named John Bermudez.

Some years later this man was appointed Abouna, or Patriarch, on
the death of the incumbent of that office. He made his way to Rome,
where Pope Paul III. confirmed his title, and he thence proceeded,
in accordance with the Emperor’s desire, to Portugal, and solicited
the aid of European troops to assist the Abyssinians in repelling
the Mohammedan invasion which then threatened the country.

The Portuguese Government despatched an expedition of some four
hundred men under Don Christopher de Gama. These troops disembarked
at Massowah in 1542. In an engagement with the Mohammedan forces
on August 30 of that year the Abyssinian allies took to flight,
and the Portuguese were surrounded. They cut their way through the
enemy and effected their retreat, but Don Christopher, who had been
wounded, was captured by the enemy and murdered by the Mohammedan
commander. His skull was sent to Constantinople as a trophy. The
surviving Portuguese besought of the Emperor an opportunity to avenge
their leader, and they shortly afterwards took part in an action in
which the Mohammedan forces were routed with great slaughter.

These circumstances added to the influence of Bermudez, but he
insisted rigorously on the complete acceptance of Roman doctrine and
ritual by the Abyssinians, and thus incurred the resentment of the
Emperor. As a consequence he lost the advantages which he and his
compatriots had gained, and finally abandoned his task and quitted
the country, embarking at Massowah, where he had landed.

A subsequent mission under the leadership of Oviedo, Bishop
of Hieropolis, which reached Massowah in 1558, failed equally,
after many adventures—including an Abyssinian Council at which
the Emperor and the bishop publicly and heatedly disputed about
points of doctrine—and in 1560 Oviedo received orders from Rome
to withdraw from Ethiopia and proceed to Japan.

Peter Paez was the next missionary who attempted to bring Abyssinia
into communion with the Catholic Church. After suffering shipwreck in
the Red Sea and enduring a seven years’ captivity in the hands of
the Turks he landed at Massowah in 1600. Paez was a man of prudence
and ability. He prepared himself for his task by learning the Geez
language and opening a school at Maiguagua, in which he was able to
study the character of the Abyssinian people. He acquired a reputation
as a teacher and disputant, and in 1604 was summoned to the court,
where the reigning Emperor, Za Dengel, received him as a person
of distinction. He soon acquired influence over this monarch, who
sanctioned the use of the Roman ritual and shortly became a convert to
Catholicism. A rebellion—one of the ordinary incidents of Abyssinian
politics—was organized against him, and he was slain. A period of
civil war ensued, during which his successor shared the same fate.

The crown then passed to the Emperor Segued (called also Socinios and
Susneus).[180] Paez aroused his interest by his skill in architecture
and his other talents, was received into favour, and for the second
time induced the ruler of the country to recognize the authority
of the Catholic Church. Letters announcing the event, signed by the
Emperor himself, were sent to the Pope and the King of Portugal. Paez
died in 1623, shortly after receiving Segued’s formal abjuration
of heresy and administering to him the sacrament of penance.

Upon receipt of the Emperor’s letter, the Pope, in 1624, despatched
to Ethiopia a mission headed by Alphonso Mendez, a Jesuit and
doctor of divinity. This envoy and his followers reached Abyssinia
in 1625. On February 11, 1626, before the court and the magnates
of the country, the Emperor avowed his submission to the head of
the Catholic Church, and took the oath of obedience to the Holy
See. A proclamation was then made that “all persons intended for
priests should embrace the Catholic religion under pain of death,
and that all should follow the forms of the Church of Rome in the
celebration of Easter and Lent under the same penalty.”

The change of creed was not popular in the country. It was opposed
by force, and became the occasion of a renewal of civil war. The
Emperor found that he had alienated his subjects, and, in spite of the
protests and resistance of Mendez, he issued, in 1632, an edict by
which he restored the ancient religion to its former authority, and
abdicated in favour of his son. Segued died a few months afterwards,
still professing the Catholic faith. His successor banished Mendez
and his retinue, whereupon they sought protection with the Prince
of Bar, who had been at enmity with the Abyssinian king; but this
chieftain delivered them to the Turks. Father Jerome Lobo, who
wrote a history of the mission, and some of his companions, reached
Europe after many adventures; others were ransomed from the Pasha of
Souakim and proceeded to India, and the few Jesuits who had remained
in Abyssinia were put to death.

Of nine Capuchins who endeavoured to enter the country soon after
these events, seven were killed, the three who arrived last being
murdered by the Pasha of Souakim, at the Emperor of Abyssinia’s
request, as soon as they reached the coast.

No subsequent attempt of similar importance was made to convert
the Abyssinian nation to Catholicism, and the story of the struggle
between the Roman and the Alexandrian forms of belief may be said
to have ended with the banishment of Mendez.

There have been theological contentions in the Abyssinian Church as
in others, and it has not escaped schism. The fiercest dispute arose
about the number of the births of Christ, and the sword has been
used—as elsewhere—to lend force to arguments. Major Harris wrote:
“At the expense of a bloody civil war, Gondar, with Godjam, Damot,
and all the south-western provinces of Amhára, has long maintained
the three births of Christ—Christ proceeding from the Father from
all eternity, styled ‘the eternal birth;’ His incarnation, as
being born of the holy Virgin, termed His ‘second or temporal
birth;’ and His reception of the Holy Ghost, denominated His
‘third birth.’ The Tigre ecclesiastics, on the other hand,
whose side is invariably espoused by the Primate of Ethiopia, deny
the third birth, upon the ground that the reception of the Holy
Ghost cannot be so styled.”[181] Bishop Samuel Gobat, whose book
was published in 1834, gave a fuller account of the controversy,
which Parkyns quoted.[182] In Stern’s time the Abouna (primate)
was supported by King Theodore in his opposition to the doctrine of
the three births, and “the royal herald made proclamation that in
future all who adhered to the obnoxious dogma of the threefold birth
would be taught obedience by the _giraffe_ (scourging). The Shoa
clergy denounced this decision as arbitrary and tyrannical, as indeed
it was; but an application of the promised whip wrought a wonderful
change among that insubordinate body.”[183] The same author on
one occasion saw about a dozen priests in chains, who were brought
before the Abouna to be admonished because “they had pertinaciously
clung to the abolished dogma of the three births of Christ.”[184]
The penalty which they incurred “consisted of several months’
successive fasts, divers fines, and the promise of the _giraffe_.”

For a detailed account of Abyssinian Christianity and ecclesiastical
history, reference should be made to the books already mentioned in
this volume—Bruce, Gobat, Harris, Lobo, Legrand, Stern, Dufton,
Plowden, and Parkyns especially—and to the works of F. Alvarez[185]
and Job Ludolphus.[186] A digest of the writings of the early
travellers and missionaries in Abyssinia was published by F. Balthazar
Tellez, and translated into English by John Stevens (1710).

Mention has already been made of the Falashas (Jews) of
Abyssinia. These people, said Stern, “claiming a lineal descent
from Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, pride themselves on the fame of their
progenitors and the purity of the blood that circulates in their
own veins. Intermarriages with those of another tribe or creed are
strictly interdicted,[187] nay, even the visit to an unbeliever’s
house is a sin, and subjects the transgressor to the penance of a
thorough lustration and a complete change of dress before he can
return to his own home. Their stern uncompromising sectarian spirit
has been highly beneficial in excluding from their community that
licentious profligacy in which all the other inhabitants of Ethiopia
riot; and it is generally admitted that Falasha men and women seldom,
if ever, stray from the path of virtue, or transgress the solemn
law of the decalogue.”[188]

Various accounts, of which two have already been mentioned, are
given of the origin of the Jewish colony in Abyssinia. It is commonly
believed among the people that a large retinue returned with Maqueda,
Queen of Sheba, from her visit to King Solomon. Harris remarked,
“The tradition of Queen Maqueda has been ascribed to the invention
of those fugitive Jews, who, after the destruction of Jerusalem by
the Emperor Titus, emigrated into the northern States by way of the
Red Sea, who disseminated it with the design of obtaining the desired
permission to settle in the country, and whose descendants are the
Falashas still extant among the mountains of Simien and Lasta.”[189]
According to Stern, “the most probable conjecture is that at a
very early period—perhaps when Solomon’s fleet navigated the
Red Sea—some adventurous Jews, impelled by love of gain, settled
among the pleasant hills of Arabia Felix; whilst others of a more
daring and enterprising spirit were induced to try their fortune
in the more remote mountain scenes of Ethiopia. . . . Subsequent
troubles in Palestine and the final overthrow of the Jewish monarchy
by Nebuchadnezzar increased the number of the emigrants, and in
the lapse of a few centuries the Jews formed a powerful state in
Arabia, and a formidable and turbulent people in the Alpine regions
between Tigre and Amhara in Ethiopia.”[190] Mr. Vivian alluded to
“a colony of aboriginal Jews up in the mountains of Tigre. They
live in pastoral fashion, like the old Hebrew patriarchs, upon the
produce of the flocks and herds. They have been there for centuries,
perhaps even for thousands of years, and the Abyssinians confess
that they have always failed to dislodge them from their inaccessible
fastnesses.”[191] Falashas are also found in the provinces bordering
on Lake Tsana, including Godjam, and it was in this district that
Stern visited them. It seems probable that the Jews who have retained
their religion are the descendants of those who refused to conform to
the doctrines of the Coptic Church when they were generally adopted
in the country. Bruce mentions that “about one hundred and eighty
years after the establishment of Christianity, a religious war is said
to have taken place between the converted and unconverted Abyssinians
(the Christians and the Jews),”[192] and if one may judge by the
steady and successful opposition which Hebrews in other countries have
offered to the most strenuous methods of conversion, it appears likely
that a portion of those in Abyssinia adhered to their ancient creed.

There is a tradition that in the tenth century the Jews obtained
ascendency in Ethiopia, and preserved their supremacy for about three
centuries. “In the year 960 the Jews, supported by their king and
by his daughter Judith, a woman of great beauty, resolved to attempt
the subversion of the Christian religion and the destruction of the
race of Solomon (Queen Maqueda’s descendants having been converted
to the Alexandrian doctrines). They surprised the mountain of Damo,
the residence of the Christian princes, the whole of whom, about four
hundred, were massacred, excepting one infant, who escaped into the
powerful and loyal province of Shoa. A solitary representative of the
blood of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba was thus preserved. Judith
took possession of the throne, and not only enjoyed it herself
for forty years, but transmitted it to five of her posterity. On
the death of the last of these the crown descended to one of his
relations, a Christian, and is said to have remained in his family
(who, though Christians, were not of the line of Solomon) for five
generations. Finally, Tekla Haimanot, the famous saint, persuaded
the reigning king to restore the crown to the house of Solomon,
whose descendants had survived in Shoa.”[193]

Differing accounts of the former political status of the Hebrews in
the land have been given by various writers; Stern said that in their
“mountain fastnesses of Simien and Bellesa they maintained, under
their own kings and queens, called Gideon and Judith, a chequered
and independent existence till the beginning of the seventeenth
century.”[194] Harris, following Bruce more closely, wrote,
“Christianity became the national religion of Abyssinia in the
beginning of the fourth century. The Falashas, descendants of the
Jews who were believed to have accompanied Menelek from Jerusalem,
had meanwhile waxed extremely powerful, and refusing to abandon the
faith of their forefathers, they now declared independence. Electing
a sovereign of their own creed, they took possession of the almost
impregnable mountain fastnesses of Simien, where their numbers were
augmented by continual accessions from the Jews who were expelled from
Palestine and from Arabia. Under the constant titles of Gideon and
Judith, a succession of kings and queens held a limited sway until,
in the middle of the _tenth_ century,” the Princess Esther brought
about the revolution which Bruce ascribed to Judith—one writer
probably using the name and the other the title of the usurper in
question. Whatever the circumstances may really have been, there
seems reason to believe that the Jews were at one time sufficiently
influential to impose a dynasty of their choice upon the nation.

Stern has given a full and very interesting account of the Falashas
whom he saw. According to this they dwell as a rule, though not
invariably, apart from the remainder of the population, and “their
settlements are strikingly distinguished from the Christian villages
by the red earthen pot on the apex of their _mesquid_, or place of
worship, which towers from the centre of the thatched huts by which
it is environed. . . . Husbandry and a few simple trades—such as
smiths, potters, and weavers—constitute the sole occupations in
which they engage; commerce they unanimously repudiate as incompatible
with their Mosaic Creed, and it is quite a disappointment not to
find a single merchant among a quarter of a million of people,
the lineal descendants of those who are supposed to have acquired a
taste for traffic and riches on the very eve of their emancipation
from Egyptian servitude.”

Though they had very few copies of the Scriptures in Stern’s
time they were well acquainted with the Old Testament, especially
the Pentateuch and the Psalms. “Their sacrifices,” he wrote,
“are most capriciously offered, and with the exception of the
Paschal Lamb, neither the offering on the Sabbath nor on the day of
atonement is in accordance with the original command. . . . Every
Falasha settlement has a hut at its outskirts, and there the unclean
and impure must take refuge during the prescribed number of days. This
ritual scrupulosity involves many social hardships and inflicts on
numbers many a keen pang. Particularly in the hour of dissolution,
when the sweet expressions of friendship and love are so soothing
to the agonized soul and anguished frame, the dying Falasha has
no affectionate hand clasped in his, and no words of comfort from
beloved objects whispered in his ears. The inflexible law forbids
the last offices to the weeping relative, and the helpless sufferer
is in death’s agonizing convulsions dragged from the weary couch
into the open air, where the polluted and unclean remove him from
the bare ground to the tainted and lonely hut.”

On the Sabbath “the service, which consists in chanting psalms
and hymns relieved by allegorical stories and a few verses or a
chapter of the book of Leviticus, lasts a considerable time, and
in some places the plaintive notes of the worshippers may even be
heard across the quiet valley and around the lonely hill throughout
the night. . . . Broad phylacteries and the garments of fringes are
utterly unknown among them, nor do they wash the cup or practise
any of the decrees of the rabbins. . . . About the advent of the
Messiah they have no intelligent or definite idea. ‘We believe
that Jerusalem will again be rebuilt,’ is the answer on the lip
of every Falasha, when questioned as to the future destiny of his
nation. This event they regard as the consummation of their brightest
hopes—the realization of their fondest mundane visions. . . .”

Asceticism, borrowed from the Christian hermits, has become a practice
among the Falasha priests, who “after their initiation frequently
pass months and years in swampy marshes, stern wilds and poisonous
jungles, where roots or dried peas, which latter they carry with them,
are their only means of subsistence. Numbers succumb to the noxious
influence of the atmosphere, others perish of famine, whilst not a few
become the prey of the lion, hyena, and other voracious beasts which
inhabit those unsightly tracts.” There are also Falasha monks,
and “the dwellings and convents of these ascetics are carefully
isolated from the abodes of the impure and unholy people.”

There were, in Stern’s day, three Falasha high-priests in Abyssinia,
one in the province of Quara, the other in Armatgioho, and the
third, Aboo Maharee, in Dembea. The missionary had some indecisive
discussion with the last-named, a man about sixty years of age,
“of a noble and commanding figure, swathed in a white _shama_,
and holding a long bamboo staff, which in the distance looked like
the crosier of a bishop.” He had a “high and expressive forehead,
melancholy restless eyes, and a countenance once no doubt mild and
pleasing, but to which self-imposed penances and a repulsive practice
had imparted an expression most strange and unearthly.”

“The common people have all an erect, upright carriage;” the
women are intelligent and _sympathiques_, and the younger of them
attractive. To judge by Stern’s description,[195] the Falashas are
generally a worthy, simple and devout race, bigoted but “exemplary
in their morals, and cleanly in their habits”—in which latter
respect they form a striking contrast to their co-religionists in
the slums of London. Plowden said of the Abyssinian Jews, “They are
still found in some numbers, and, though despised, are not persecuted;
this may be owing to their poverty. They know nothing of the Hebrew
tongue, but some read the Mosaic books in Geez, and are as scrupulous
in their ceremonials as their brethren elsewhere. They are the best
masons in the country.”[196]

“The _mesquids_, like the Christian churches, consist of three
divisions, with an entrance towards the east. The admission into
these different courts is rigorously regulated by Levitical law,
and the severest penalty would be inflicted on any one who should
incautiously pollute the sacred edifice. In the rear of every place
of worship is a small enclosure with a huge stone in the centre;
and on this crude altar the victim is slaughtered, and all other
sacrificial rites performed.”[197]

For a notice of a curious superstition of which a class of Jewish
people are often the object among Christian Abyssinians, see p. 288.

In the “Jewish Year-Book”[198] for 1904 the number of Jews in
Abyssinia is computed at 50,000; the “American Jewish Year Book”
estimates it to be 120,000. Both these figures must be conjectural,
and the former differs very widely from that given by Stern, who had
had opportunities of obtaining information in the country. Considering
the fecundity of the Jews in most parts of the world it is unlikely
that their numbers have diminished in Ethiopia during the last
forty years.

In Plowden’s time there was a large and prosperous Mohammedan
population in Abyssinia. He wrote: “In all large towns they
have a separate quarter, with mosques and public prayers. From
the advantage that their commerce in slaves gives them over their
Christian competitors, the Mussulman traders are the most wealthy,
and are, therefore, generally appointed to the high post of Negadeh
Ras, or collector of all customs, literally ‘head of merchants.’
To enforce their authority these keep large bodies of armed men, and
confidently predict the final triumph of the faith of the Prophet in
Abyssinia. The Abyssinian Mussulmans, as distinguished from the Galla,
are all traders; they will not eat meat killed by Christians, and are
frequently their superiors in morality and intelligence. They live
on terms of equality, good humour and friendship with the Christians,
openly defend their creed, and receive any proselyte that offers, and
do not appear to think that the restrictions in the Koran respecting
strong drinks apply to them at all.” Plowden added that they,
like the Christians, did not generally seclude their women.

King Theodore, early in his reign, issued an edict which “required
peremptorily the expulsion from the country, or the instant return
to the bosom of the Church of his apostate countrymen,” _i.e._
Mohammedans.[199] Circumstances prevented him from enforcing this
decree. It was revived by King Johannes, and no doubt, had in other
parts of Abyssinia the effect which Stecker observed in Korata.[200]
But Mohammedans are still to be found—_e.g._ in the district of
Axum[201] and in Shoa.[202]

Allusion has already been made to the Waitos.[203] Plowden wrote of
them: “They call themselves Mohammedans, but are not recognized
by the other followers of that creed. They principally reside near
the Lake Tsana, and are a very handsome race. They are regarded
with as much aversion as the Jews.”[204] It must be owned that
the appreciation of their personal appearance is a matter of taste.

Another singular sect is that known as Koomants, or Kamants. These
people, “found only in the neighbourhood of Gondar, are acknowledged
by neither Christian, Mussulman, or Jew, and have a bastard creed,
a compound of all three. They are skilful carpenters, and supply
all Gondar with wood. They are despised, but being very courageous,
and having lately shown an inclining towards Christianity, it is not
improbable that their distinctions will soon disappear; many even now
have ceased a practice which was the chief separating cause. They
hung heavy weights in the lobe of the ear of the girls, who are
thereby excluded from any chance of marriage with Christians.”[205]
Hormuzd Rassam on one occasion halted at a village of Kamants called
Saraba, north of Lake Tsana, in the direction of Gondar. He saw
there “a place of worship, which they hold in great veneration. The
entire space between the spring and this temple, or, more strictly,
grove—they have no building for their religious services—is
regarded as sacred, and no Christian or Mohammedan is allowed to
enter within the hallowed precincts. When engaged in prayer, they
take up a position under a tree, on the banks of the stream, or
in the wood about half a mile from the spring. It is owing to this
practice that the Christian Abyssinians style them ‘Worshippers of
wood,’ or simply ‘Wood.’ Their religion is as great a mystery
in Abyssinia as that of the Ansairies is in Syria, and although the
late king (Theodore) obliged them to wear the ‘mateb’ cord,
yet they still continue to practise certain rites and ceremonies
unknown either to Christians or Mussulmans. They only eat meat which
has been slaughtered by themselves, and eschew fish and coffee;
yet they adopt Christian names, and have a kind of baptism, which
their Christian countrymen designate a ‘mockery.’”[206]

Stern’s first experience of these people was agreeable. In a deep
valley called Walee Dubba, on the way to Tschelga, he met some young
women who had jars of _dallah_, a beer made from sprouting barley,
to sell. “It was quite an unexpected surprise,” he wrote, “to
see the solitude of an African wilderness enlivened with the gay
song and sprightly converse of a number of young lasses, who, clad
in rustling leather petticoats, moved about amongst the various
groups resting under the leafy foliage, with a grace and innate
modesty which elicited admiration, whilst at the same time it forbad
all unbecoming liberty.” At Tschelga he questioned some of the
Kamants “about their knowledge of God and their hopes of eternity;
but they had so little to communicate, beyond a belief in a Supreme
Being and the existence of a future state, that the most simple query
caused them the utmost wonder and surprise. . . . Their language is
Amharic, but amongst themselves they speak in the Falasha tongue;
and the striking Jewish features of many a man and woman amongst
them inclined us to credit the report which assigns to them a Jewish
origin.” The same writer has mentioned the legendary derivation of
their name,[207] and he described them as industrious, energetic,
and active. He saw many of their women in Gondar, and remarked
that “it was a strange sight to see these young females—clad in
simple leather petticoats and equally simple earrings of wood, which,
according to the orthodox fashion, must be weighty enough to distend
in a few years the flap of the ear down to the shoulders—walking
about in the market, or groaning under a heavy burden of wood,
utterly unconcerned about everything except the graceful ornament
that dangled round their necks.”[208]

At the present time European creeds are represented in Abyssinia
by converts, whose change of faith is due to the activity of
missionaries. Mr. Wylde wrote upon this subject—“I believe the
majority of the Abyssinians care a great deal for their religion, and
it is only the more worthless ones that are found round the different
mission stations; people who are willing to change their faith the
same as they would their clothes, and when they have worn out all
that are to be got, revert to their original one again, without
perhaps being any the better or any the worse for the experience,
but only to be marked by others as being utterly worthless and
unreliable characters. I will never have a male servant in my employ
that has been near a mission, if I can help it. Female servants are
different; they usually are taught to sew, wash, and cook, and are
generally cleanly in their habits, but when they get to a certain
age the majority of them run away from these establishments, as they
cannot stand the discipline and restraint; and I don’t blame them,
as a more unlovely and monotonous life does not exist.”[209]

There is a code of law in Abyssinia, which is called _Fatha Negest_,
or _Feth Negust_. According to Major Harris this volume of “The
Judgments of the Kings” is said to have fallen from heaven in the
time of Constantine the Great, and he includes it among the books
of which MSS. are still extant in the country.[210] Plowden stated
that it was supposed “to have been compiled by the Council of Three
Hundred, in the earlier ages of the Church, and regarded originally
as of almost equal authority with the sacred writings.”[211]
He further remarked that this code “is a bad translation from
that of Justinian; three parts of it being occupied with Church
affairs and regulations, and a small portion only with the civil
and criminal law, this latter being also much mixed up with the
institutions of the Pentateuch. Bad as it is, there are probably
not twenty persons in the country that are conversant with it; and
some singular judgments are given on its authority, much after the
fashion of the _sortes Virgilianæ_. Though it is consulted with much
ceremony, and considered a sacred volume, law is, in fact, simplified
to the will of the chief. Still, the fact of there being a written
law has assisted in retarding the degradation of the people.”[212]

The following extract from Parkyns’s work shows the spirit of
Ethiopian jurisprudence in dealing with serious crime: “As for
the laws of the country, they are for the most part formed on the
basis of the old Mosaic dispensation. ‘An eye for an eye, and
a tooth for a tooth’ is followed nearly to the letter—so much
so that, if a man kill another, the murderer must be put to death
by the nearest relatives of the deceased with precisely the same
kind of weapon as that with which he killed his victim.”[213]
The murderer may redeem his life by paying a ransom, which, in
Stern’s time, varied from fifty to two hundred and fifty Maria
Theresa dollars. If he did not possess the requisite amount he was
chained to a relative of the deceased and obliged to beg till he
had collected the stipulated sum. The severity of the punishments
in vogue varies with the temperament of different rulers, the
Emperor being the final authority in such matters, and a right of
appeal to him is admitted in favour of all accused persons.[214]
Mutilation is a common penalty.[215] “This,” said Mr. Wylde,
“has not the terrors that it would have in England, as some of the
thieves in Abyssinia have been operated on a second and a third time,
and I saw one man with his left foot being the only extremity left,
and he was being fed by the priests at the church at Adowa.”[216]

All Abyssinian litigants are required to find security. “These
securities must be persons whom the judge is certain of being
able to seize if necessary. If the charge be serious they must
be persons of property, and are liable both for the appearance of
their principals, and for the sentence whatever that may be. This
custom obtains both in civil and criminal law. In default of such
security, each party is chained by the wrist; an additional expense,
as the chains must be hired, and the jailor—that is, the person
to whom he is chained, paid a sum fixed by law. This bail is the
prop of Abyssinian society; no commercial or market transfer takes
place without it. The Abyssinian judge or creditor cares nothing for
the principal in a cause; the bail is seized, and in self-defence
produces his man; and it is an honourable trait that the principal
rarely absconds. A friend will thus become security in a case of
murder, though rendering himself thereby liable to suffer death,
or to pay the price of blood, to them a fortune.

“After both parties have given security the plaintiff only is
allowed to produce his witnesses; the defendant can, when they are
called by name, admit or reject their evidence, in almost every case
great indulgence being shown in this respect. . . . In small affairs,
such as a sudden dispute on the high road, the meeting of an absconded
debtor, or any civil matter, the first decent person to be found is
obliged to act as a temporary judge, if adjured by the ‘death of the
chief’ paramount. He must then place the accused in bonds, which is
done by tying his cloth (_shama_) to that of his accuser, and escort
or send them to the nearest magistrate, who, should the accused demand
it, must in like manner forward him to his immediate master or chief,
where the case is first heard, the plaintiff having right of appeal;
the law in this being, however, highly favourable to the defendant,
the plaintiff not being always disposed for a long journey.”[217]

Every man is his own advocate. Those who wish to read an account of
the proceedings “in court” should refer to “Modern Abyssinia,”
p. 308, or “Wanderings among the Falashas,” pp. 48, 170. The
hearing usually gives occasion for a good deal of eloquence and a
great deal of lying.

There is no sort of general education in Abyssinia. Men of attainments
are found in the upper classes, and some of the higher officials are
capable linguists. But as regards the bulk of the nation learning has
advanced little since the days of Harris. “The stores of literature
being bound up in a dead letter (the Geez language), few excepting the
priests and _defterers_ can decipher them, and many of these learned
men are often more indebted to the memory of their early youth than
to the well-thumbed page in their hand. The ignorance of the nation
is, indeed, truly deplorable; for those children only receive the
rudiments of an education who are designed for the service of the
Church; and, the course of study adopted being little calculated to
expand the mind of the neophyte, a peculiar deficiency is presented
in intellectual features.”[218] Plowden remarked of the priests
that they “teach but one book to the children of the laity,
‘The Psalms of David;’ and without forbidding other learning,
discourage it, confining it as much as possible to the clergy and
the scribes.”[219] Allusion has already been made to the classes
held by the priests in the precincts of the churches.[220] Such
instruction as is obtainable is given, of course, to all pupils
under clerical supervision. There are no secular schools, and at
the present time, as Mr. Vivian remarked, “no one in Abyssinia
ever does get any education beyond learning to read and write, and
quote passages from the Gospels.”[221] Those whose acquirements
exceed this standard are not indebted for them to native teachers.

The habits of the young girls, among the generality of the people,
do not foster any strict notions of morality. Parkyns wrote: “The
boys are turned out wild to look after the sheep and cattle, and the
girls, from early childhood, are sent to fetch water from the well
or brook, first in a gourd, and afterwards in a jar proportioned
to their strength. If the well be far from the village, the girls
usually form parties to go thither and amuse themselves on the road
by singing sentimental or love songs; while, during their halt at
the well for an hour or so, they engage in romps of all kinds, in
which parties of the other sex frequently join. This early licence
lays the foundation for worse, when at a later period they are sent
to the woods to collect fuel.”[222]

Courtship can hardly be said to exist. “In Abyssinia young people
begin to think of marriage at a very early age. I have seen brides
of eight or nine years old; and boys at a proportionally youthful
age are considered marriageable. When a lad wishes to marry he
only inquires for a girl who may possess twice the number of oxen
that he can muster, or their value. His proposals are made to
the girl’s father, and, unless there is some strong motive for
rejecting him, he is accepted, and everything is arranged without
consulting the lady’s taste or asking her consent. They are usually
betrothed three or four months before marriage, during which time the
bridegroom frequently visits his father-in-law elect, and occasionally
propitiates him with presents of honey, butter, a sheep, or a goat;
but he is never allowed to see his intended wife even for a moment,
unless, by urgent entreaty or a handsome bribe, he induces some female
friend of hers to arrange the matter, by procuring him a glance at his
cruel fair one. For this purpose he conceals himself behind a door
or other convenient hiding-place, while the lady, on some pretext
or other, is led past it. Should she, however, suspect a trick,
and discover him, she would make a great uproar, cover her face,
and, screaming, run away and hide herself, as though her sense of
propriety were greatly offended by the intrusion; although previous
to his making the offer she would have thought it no harm to romp
with him, or any other male acquaintance, in the most free and easy
manner. Even after she has been betrothed, she is at home to every
one, except to him who most sighs for the light of her countenance.

“In Tigre, and especially in Shire, there is a superstition that
if a girl leave her father’s house during the interval between
her betrothal and marriage she will be bitten by a snake.

“When the wedding day approaches the girl is well washed,
her hair combed and tressed, and she is rendered in every way as
agreeable as possible. She has then to undergo a course of diet
and medicine.”[223]

Of marriages there are three kinds. The foregoing extract refers
to the usual merely civil contract; for such unions there are
“bridesmen” (_arkees_), who have peculiar privileges in the
community, including that of theft, remain “on duty” after the
nuptials, and occupy the most singular relation to the newly wedded
damsel.[224] There are also bridesmaids, who keep their faces covered
during the wedding, which is a very simple ceremony. Mr. Wylde and an
Italian friend obtained an illicit view of an Abyssinian bride and
bridesmaids, and were rewarded by the sight of some very charming
girls. Both he and Parkyns have written entertaining descriptions
of an Abyssinian marriage of this kind.[225]

Rassam has given the following particulars with regard to such
contracts. “The parties simply swear, in the presence of two
witnesses, that they will live together as husband and wife. This bond
may be dissolved at any time by mutual consent; in that case, the wife
is entitled to retain whatever property she possessed before wedlock,
as also any presents which she may have received from her husband
during coverture, unless a stipulation to the contrary was agreed
to by both sides, on their union. Most Abyssinian marriages are of
this sort, and the generality of the respectable classes so wedded
live together as husband and wife until separated by death.”[226]

Harris wrote: “In Shoa a girl is reckoned according to the value
of her property; and the heiress to a house, a field, and a bedstead
is certain to add a husband to her list before many summers have
shone over her head. Marriage is generally concluded by the parties
declaring, before witnesses, ‘upon the life of the King,’ that
they intend to live happily together, and the property of each
being produced is carefully appraised. A mule or an ass, a dollar,
a shield and a sheaf of spears on the one side,[227] are noted
against the lady’s stock of wheat, cotton, and household gear;
and the bargain being struck, the effects become joint for the time,
until some domestic difference results in either taking up their own,
and departing to seek a new mate.

“Favourite slaves and concubines are respected as much as wedded
wives. No distinction is made betwixt legitimate and illegitimate
children; and, to the extent of his means, every subject follows the
example set by the monarch (Sahela Selassie), who, it has been seen,
entertains upon his establishment, in addition to his lawful spouse,
no fewer than five hundred concubines.

“Few married couples even live long together without violating
their vow; and the dereliction being held of small account, a beating
is the only punishment inflicted upon the weaker party. The jewel
chastity is here in no repute; and the utmost extent of reparation
to be recovered in a court of justice for the most aggravated case
of seduction is but fivepence sterling.

“Morality is thus at the very lowest ebb; for there is neither
custom nor inducement to be chaste, and beads, more precious than
fine gold, bear down every barrier of restraint. Honesty and modesty
both yield to the force of temptation, and pride is seldom offended
at living in a state of indolent dependence upon others. The soft
savage requires but little inducement to follow the bent of her
passions according to the dictates of unenlightened nature; and
neither scruples of conscience nor the rules of the loose society
form any obstacle whatever to their entire gratification.”[228]

Plowden confirms the observation that “no distinction is made
between legitimate and illegitimate children,” and adds, “all
share alike on the decease of their father.”[229]

The reader will have noticed that Rassam’s account of the duration
and even tenour of these alliances does not agree with the comments
made by Harris. Stern observed that the wedded pair “may, perhaps,
become attached to each other and live in peace and conjugal bliss;
or, as it frequently happens, they may become disgusted with each
other after the lapse of a brief period and separate.”[230]

Parkyns wrote:—“The civil marriage may be dissolved on the
shortest notice and for the most trifling reasons. Parties have
only to express their wish to separate, and a division of property
and children takes place. The boys, if there be any, usually go
to the father, and the girls to the mother. This having been done,
the parties are at liberty to contract a second marriage as soon as
they please. It is not an uncommon thing for a man thus separated
from his wife to maintain her in a house near his own, furnish her
with the necessary means of subsistence for herself and family,
and continue apparently in perfect friendship with her, while at
the same time he takes another bride in her place.”[231]

The custom of entering into civil contracts of this kind is of old
standing; for Lobo remarked, “A husband that doth not like his wife
may easily find means to make the marriage void; and, what is worse,
may dismiss the second wife with less difficulty than he took her,
and return to the first; so that marriages in this country are only
for a term of years, and last no longer than both parties are pleased
with each other; which is one instance how far distant these people
are from the purity of the primitive believers, which they pretend to
have preserved with so great strictness. The marriages are, in short,
no more than bargains, made with this proviso that when any discontent
shall arise on either side, they may separate, and marry whom they
please, each taking back what they brought with them.”[232]

According to Mr. Vivian, provision is sometimes made at the time of
the secular marriage for the event of divorce—“a certain sum is
agreed upon for payment by the husband. My friend, the coffee-planter
at Harrar, had to promise to pay £10 to his little Galla wife if
ever he sent her away, but that was considered an exceptionally
heavy fee.”[233]

There are, however, nuptials of greater sanctity. Rassam thus
described them: “The most binding marriage with the Abyssinians
consists of an interchange of vows between the bridegroom and bride,
confirmed by their jointly partaking of the holy Eucharist; in fact,
the union in this case is solemnized much in the same way as in other
Christian Churches. Here, however, as elsewhere, certain breaches
of their mutual vows by either party dissolves the tie and renders
the transgressor legally obnoxious to punishment; but as Abyssinian
law in such matters has been disregarded for centuries, and Might
has taken the place of Right, it follows that an offending husband
generally escapes with impunity; so also does the guilty wife,
if she happens to belong to the family of a powerful chief. Hence,
an unprincipled husband, when tired of his wife, finds no difficulty
whatever in getting rid of her; and such repudiation is undoubtedly
very common. Many cases of the kind fell under my own cognizance,
and, in nearly all, the husbands were leading incontinent lives; on
the other hand, I never heard of a single instance of a wife who had
been sacramentally married proving unfaithful to her husband, even
after his repudiation of her. Most women so situated remain single,
and many become nuns. In consequence of this deplorable state of
things, Abyssinian females generally entertain a great distrust of
the opposite sex, and not one in twenty would willingly contract
the more binding marriage.”[234]

Mr. Vivian confirmed this observation. “Marriage is not popular
with the women,” he wrote, “in either of these countries”
(Abyssinia and Somaliland), “and they will only consent to it
when physical force is actually used.” He added, with regard to
Abyssinia, “The permanent marriage seems to be very rare, only
priests and persons of extraordinary piety indulging in it.”[235]
It is to be hoped that these worthies do not resort to violence in
order to gratify their wish. Plowden said of this form of wedlock,
that “it is usual in old age only to take the sacrament together
in the church, thereby pledging themselves to fidelity.”[236]

Doubtless this account of the Abyssinian usage is correct, for it
agrees with the observations made by Parkyns. “Church marriages,”
he wrote, “are rarely solemnized except between persons, who, having
first been civilly married, and having afterwards lived happily
together till the decline of life, begin to feel that they could
not hope to suit themselves better, and so determine to sanctify the
marriage by going to church and partaking of the Sacrament. The bond
is then considered indissoluble.”[237] Stern stated that the Negus
is in the same position as the clergy with regard to monogamy.[238]

“According to the canons of the Abyssinian Church, the King is
bound by the same marital laws as a priest; and, consequently, if his
wife dies, he dare not marry another. The bereaved predecessors of
Theodoros scrupulously evaded such a contingency by substituting the
regularly stored harem in the place of the one lawful wife.”[239]

Rassam made the following observations on the third form of wedlock:
“This last is little better than concubinage. The contracting
parties merely engage to cohabit during pleasure, and while so living
are regarded as husband and wife. The national Church recognizes
only the sacramental marriage as valid; but the laity, as a rule,
set all ecclesiastical law in such matters at defiance. Hence,
a wealthy Abyssinian Christian, who is debarred by the two higher
degrees of wedlock from having more than one wife, may nevertheless
have as many third-rate wives as he pleases, and cohabit with them
simultaneously. In the course of my inquiries into these matrimonial
customs, and the laws affecting inheritances among this peculiar
people, I applied to the Abouna to aid me in the research. His reply
was, ‘My son, you have asked me questions which I am unable to
answer. This only I can tell you; Abyssinian marriages, with few
exceptions, are so abominably revolting that the issue are all
bastards.’”[240]

From the opinions quoted it may be judged that the inclination
towards conjugal constancy is usually greater in the wife than in
the husband, but this is not invariably the case. Rassam tells the
following story of a couple at Magdala. “The husband was in such
dread of losing his partner, knowing that, as he had been united to
her by the secondary (civil) marriage only, she might leave him any
day, that her refusal to accompany him to the altar, there to partake
of the Lord’s Supper with him, in token of their more indissoluble
union, nearly drove him mad. The matter was eventually referred to
the Abouna, my intervention being also sought, and after considerable
trouble we overcame the obstinacy of the lady, and induced her to be
sacramentally joined to her lovesick lord.”[241] Of course this
may have been only an instance of an Ethiopian woman’s mistrust
of the male sex.

Lobo gave some curious details of the penalties that followed
upon infidelity when he was in the country. “They have here a
particular way of punishing adultery: A woman convicted of that
crime is condemned to forfeit all her fortune, is turned out
of her husband’s house in a mean dress, and is forbid ever to
enter it again. She has only a needle given her to get her living
with. Sometimes her head is shaved, except one lock of hair which
is left her, and even that depends on the will of her husband, who
has it likewise in his choice whether he will receive her again or
not. If he resolves never to admit her, they are both at liberty
to marry whom they will. There is another custom amongst them yet
more extraordinary, which is, that the wife is punished whenever
the husband proves false to the marriage-contract; this punishment
indeed extends no farther than a pecuniary mulct; and what seems more
equitable, the husband is obliged to pay a sum to his wife. When the
husband prosecutes his wife’s gallant, if he can produce any proofs
of a criminal conversation, he recovers, for damages, forty cows,
forty horses, and forty suits of clothes, and the same number of
other things. If the gallant be unable to pay him, he is committed
to prison, and continues there during the husband’s pleasure; who,
if he sets him at liberty before the whole fine is paid, obliges
him to take an oath that he is going to procure the rest, that he
may be able to make full satisfaction. Then the criminal orders
meat and drink to be brought out, they eat and drink together;
he asks a formal pardon, which is not granted at first; however,
the husband forgives first one part of the debt, and then another,
till at length the whole is remitted.”[242]

According to Mr. Wylde, Abyssinian girls have many attractions for
men. “They perfectly understand the utility of ‘feeding the
beast’ with a nice dinner to keep him good-tempered, and from
what I have seen of these young ladies, they do everything they
possibly can to make a man happy, and being good-tempered, jolly
girls, they seldom ‘nag,’ and no wonder the southern Italians
have taken a liking for them, and find themselves perfectly happy in
their society.” He admits that “their great drawback is their
dirtiness;” but adds, “all those that get the chance of being
clean keep themselves very neat and tidy.” However, “nearly all
the lower-class Abyssinian women use oil or fat for their heads;
this they do to keep the small parasites quiet, as they cannot get
about when the head and hair are thickly besmeared and saturated,
and the oil or fat also serves for softening the skin of the face
and preventing it from chapping in the cold weather, or blistering
during the hot season of the year.”[243] Mr. Vivian remarked of
the Ethiopian woman, “though her features are comely, she is not
the sort of person one would care to choose as a companion. For one
thing, I do not suppose that she ever washes herself in her life,
the butter on her hair grows rancid and emits a peculiarly pungent
odour, which affronts the nostrils when you pass her in the desert,
and wherever she goes she carries with her a large black cluster of
flies congregated on her back.”[244] Probably she would “find
herself” under the influence of a cleaner civilization.

Conceptions of medicine among the Abyssinians have changed for the
better during recent years. Harris has given an account of some of the
singular notions and practices which prevailed in his day. He took
a supply of medical stores into the country, and he and the doctor
with the expedition (Assistant-Surgeon Kirk) acted as physicians
extraordinary to the King, with the following results:—

“The most particular inquiries were instituted relative to the
mode of counteracting the influence of the evil eye, and much
disappointment expressed at the unavoidable intimation that the
dispensary of the foreigners contained neither ‘the horn of a
serpent,’ which is believed to afford an invaluable antidote against
witchcraft; no preservative against wounds in the battlefield, nor
any nostrum for ‘those who go mad from looking at a mad dog.’
‘We princes also fear the small-pox,’ said his Majesty, ‘and
therefore never tarry long in the same place. Nagási, my illustrious
ancestor, suffered martyrdom from this scourge. Have you no medicine
to drive it from myself?’

“Vaccine lymph there was in abundance, but neither Christian,
Moslem, nor Pagan had yet consented to make trial of its
virtues. Glasses hermetically sealed, betwixt which the
perishable fluid had been deposited, were exhibited, and its
use expounded. ‘No, no!’ quoth the King, as he delivered the
acquisition to his master of the horse, with a strict injunction to
have it carefully stitched in leather, ‘this is _talakh medanit_,
very potent medicine indeed; and henceforth I must wear it as a
talisman against the evil that beset my forefathers.’

“‘You must now give me the medicine which draws the vicious waters
from the leg,’ resumed his Majesty, ‘and which is better than
earth from Mount Lebanon; the medicine which disarms venomous snakes,
and that which turns the grey hairs black; the medicine to destroy
the worm in the ear of the Queen which is ever burrowing deeper;
and, above all, the medicine of the seven colours, which so sharpens
the intellect as to enable him who swallows enough of it to acquire
every sort of knowledge without the slightest trouble. Furthermore,
you will be careful to give my people _none of this_.’”[245]

Plowden, writing of the _defterers_, said: “They are often
more learned than the priests, and equally take advantage of the
general ignorance. Their principal gain is by writing amulets and
charms against every disease, almost against death. . . . They also
profess medicine, and as they do not much analyze the effects of
their drugs, many an unfortunate falls a victim to some poisonous
plant administered as a love philtre. Most of them are hangers-on
of the different churches; they are generally cunning, debauched,
and mischief-makers.”[246]

Mr. Wylde, speaking of the Abyssinian clergy of the present time,
says, “They know that the days are gone by when every one came
to them for some charm or a little holy water to cure a complaint;
the very practical nineteenth-century doctor is to be found, and not
only the congregation has deserted to the modern school of medicine,
but the priest himself will trust in the new treatment in preference
to running the risk in getting cured by faith or unfiltered holy
water.”[247]

A peculiar disease is found in Abyssinia, chiefly but not
exclusively among the women. Dufton describes a typical case: “I
had the satisfaction of seeing in Gaffat a case of _bouda_. This
term is given to a phenomenon of mental abstraction, which the
natives explain as ‘being possessed by the devil.’ The case
I am about to mention happened to a female in the service of one
of the Europeans. Her symptoms began in a kind of fainting fit,
in which the fingers were clenched in the palms of the hands, the
eyes glazed, the nostrils distended, and the whole body stiff and
inflexible. Afterwards she commenced a hideous laugh in imitation
of the hyena, and began running about on all fours; she was then
seized by the bystanders, and a _bouda_ doctor having been called
in, this individual began questioning her as to the person who had
possessed her with this hyena devil. She said he was a man living
in Gooderoo, south of Abyssinia, and also told how long the spirit
would be in possession, and what was required to expel him. Great
care must be taken of persons thus afflicted, as cases of this kind
sometimes end in death. All their demands for dress, food, trifles of
any sort, must be strictly attended to. In the height of the frenzy
they will sometimes carry out the idea of their hyena identity to
such an extent as to attack any animal that may happen to be in the
way. One woman fancied she would like a little donkey-flesh; so to
gratify her strange taste she seized hold by her teeth to the hinder
part of one which happened to be near. Off went the astonished beast
at a pace that nothing in the form of persuasion will lead him to
adopt for the gratification of man. Off, too, clinging tight with
her teeth to his haunches, went the frenzied girl. Only force would
induce her to forego the tender morsel.

“They have several cures for this strange attack; but the
never-failing one is a mixture of some obscene filth, which is
concealed in some part of the house, whereupon the woman is said
to go directly, on all fours, to where it is and swallow it. This
would seem incredible, but thousands of corroborative facts, known
to Abyssinian residents, put it beyond a doubt.

“The power of possessing persons with the devil is attributed
mostly to Jewish blacksmiths; and women and children are terrified
when they meet, in a solitary place, a blacksmith who is a Jew. These
sorcerers are also said to be endued with the power of changing the
shape of the object of their incantations.”[248]

Stern has given some interesting particulars with regard to these
seizures. “During the rainy season, when the weather, like the
mind, is cheerless and dull, the _boudas_, as if in mockery of the
universal gloom, celebrate their saturnalia. In our small settlement,
the monotony of our existence was constantly diversified by a _bouda_
scene. Towards the close of August, when every shrub and tree began to
sprout and blossom, the disease degenerated into a regular epidemic;
and in the course of an evening two, three, and not unfrequently every
hut occupied by natives would ring with that familiar household cry. A
heavy thunderstorm, by some mysterious process, seemed invariably
to predispose the people to the _bouda’s_ torturing influence.

“I remember one day, about the end of August, we had a most terrific
tempest. . . . The noise and tumult of the striving elements had
scarcely subsided, when a servant of Mr. Mayer, a stout, robust, and
masculine woman, began to exhibit the _bouda_ symptoms. She had been
complaining the whole noon of languor, faintness, and utter incapacity
for all physical exertion. About sunset her lethargy increased,
and she gradually sank into a state of apparent unconsciousness. Her
fellow-servants, who were familiar with the cause of the complaint,
at once pronounced her to be possessed. To outwit the conjuror,
I thought it advisable to try the effect of strong liquid ammonia
on the nerves of the Evil One. The place being dark, faggots were
ignited; and in their bright flickering light we beheld a mass of
dark figures squatted on the wet floor around a rigid, motionless,
and apparently dead woman. I instantly applied my bottle to her nose;
but although the potent smell made all near raise a cry of terror,
it produced no more effect on the passive and insensible patient
than if it had been water from the newly formed rivulets.”

The landlord of the settlement, “an amateur exorcist, almost by
instinct, as if anticipating something wrong in that part of his
domains occupied by the Franks, made his appearance in the very nick
of time. This bloated and limping dotard, who had wasted his youth
and manhood in folly and vice, for which, in his old age, he sought
to atone by discarding one after the other of his former wives,
and by poring over the legends of saints and martyrs, no sooner
hobbled into the hut than the possessed woman, as if struck by a
magnetic wire, burst into loud fits of laughter and the paroxysms of
a raving maniac. Half a dozen stalwart fellows caught hold of her,
but frenzy imparted a vigour to her frame which even the united
strength of these athletes was barely sufficient to keep under
control. She tried to bite, kick, and tear every one within reach;
and when she found herself foiled in all those mischievous attempts,
she convulsively grasped the unpaved wet floor, and, in imitation of
the hyena, gave utterance to the most discordant sounds. Manacled
and shackled with leather thongs, she was now partly dragged and
partly carried to an open grassy spot; and there under the starry
vault of heaven, and in the presence of a considerable number of
people, the conjurer, in a businesslike manner, began his exorcising
art. The poor sufferer, as if conscious of the dreaded old man’s
presence, struggled frantically to escape his skill; but the latter,
disregarding her entreaties and lamentations, her fits of unnatural
gaiety and bursts of thrilling anguish, with one hand laid an amulet
on her heaving bosom, whilst, with the other, he made her smell a
rag, in which the root of a strong scented plant, a bone of a hyena,
and some other abominable unguents were bound up. The mad rage of
the possessed woman being instantaneously hushed by this operation,
the conjurer addressed himself to the _bouda_ (evil spirit), and,
in language not fit for ears polite, requested him to give his
name.” The demon is always masculine, whatever may be the sex of
the person possessed. Question and answer followed, and finally
the “conjurer” formally exorcised the demon. “‘I command
thee in the name of the Blessed Trinity, the twelve apostles, and
the three hundred and eighteen bishops at the council of Nicaea,
to leave this woman, and never more to molest her.’

“The _bouda_ did not feel disposed to obey the conjurer; but on
being threatened with a repast of glowing coals, which the majority
do not relish, he became docile, and in a sulky and ventriloquizing
tone of voice, promised to obey the request.

“Still anxious to delay his exit, he demanded something to eat;
and to my utter disgust, his taste was as coarse as the torments
inflicted on the young woman were ungallant. Filth and dirt of the
most revolting description, together with an admixture of water, were
the choice delicacies he selected for his supper. This strange fare,
which the most niggardly hospitality could not refuse, several persons
hastened to prepare, and when all was ready, and the earthen dish had
been hidden in the centre of a leafy shrub, the conjurer said to the
_bouda_, ‘As thy father did, so do thou.’ These words had scarcely
escaped the lips of the exorcist, when the possessed person leaped
up, and, crawling on all fours, sought the dainty repast which she
lapped with a sickening avidity and greediness. She now laid hold of
a stone, which three strong men could scarcely lift, and raising it
aloft in the air, whirled it madly round her head for two seconds,
and then fell senseless on the ground. In half an hour she recovered,
but was quite unconscious of what had transpired.

“Three other women had similar attacks that same evening, and
that, too, without any premonitory symptoms. I tried to deceive one,
and instead of the disgusting concoction, put a wooden dish with
bread and water in her way; but on smelling it she shrank from its
contents, and rapidly crept on till the strong effluvia brought her
to the spot where the loathsome viands were concealed. . . .

“Next in importance to the _bouda_ is the _zar_. This malady
is exclusively confined to unmarried women, and has this peculiar
feature, that during the violence of the paroxysm it prompts the
patient to imitate the sharp discordant growl of the leopard. I
recollect that the first time I saw a case of this description,
it gave me a shock which made my blood run cold. The sufferer was
a handsome, gay, and lively girl, a little above fifteen. In the
morning she was engaged as usual in her work, when a quarrel ensued
between her and other domestics. The fierce dispute, though of
a trifling character, roused the passions of the fiery Ethiopian
to such a pitch that it brought on an hysterical affection. The
natives all cried, ‘She is possessed,’ and certainly her ghastly
smile, nervous tremor, wild stare, and unnatural howl, justified the
notion. To expel the _zar_, a conjurer, as in the _bouda_ complaint,
was formerly considered indispensable; but by dint of perseverance
the medical faculty of the country, to their infinite satisfaction,
have at length made the happy discovery that a sound application
of the whip is quite as potent an antidote against this evil as the
necromancer’s spell.”[249]

Parkyns said that he had seen “above a hundred” cases
of _bouda_. He alluded to the superstition with regard to
blacksmiths. “In Abyssinia their trade is hereditary, and considered
as more or less disgraceful, from the fact that blacksmiths are,
with very rare exceptions, believed to be all sorcerers, and are
opprobriously called _bouda_. . . .

“Few people will venture to molest or offend a blacksmith,
fearing the effects of his resentment. The greater part of the
‘possessed’ are women; and the reason of their being attacked
is often that they have despised the proffered love of some _bouda_,
or for other similar cause.

“It is a custom in Abyssinia to conceal the real name by which
a person is baptized, and to call him only by a sort of nickname,
which his mother gives him on leaving the church. . . . The reason for
the concealment of the Christian name is that the _bouda_ cannot act
upon a person whose real name he does not know. Should he, however,
have obtained the true name of his victim, he takes a particular kind
of straw, and muttering something over it, bends it into a circle,
and places it under a stone. The person thus doomed is taken ill
at the very moment of the bending of the straw; and should it by
accident snap under the operation, the result of the attack will be
that the patient dies.

“This malady and the Tigritiya are no doubt often purposely
counterfeited by servant-maids to evade their work, and by others
to excite pity, attract attention, and get themselves pulled about
by the men. . . .

“The first case which I ever saw, and which I consequently watched
very attentively and noted down, was that of a servant-woman at
Rohabaita. The first day she complained of general languor, and of
a stupid heavy feeling about the head. Towards evening this seemed
to increase, when she cried a little, but was perfectly reasonable,
and excused herself by saying that it was only because she felt
low and melancholy. An hour after this, however, she burst out into
hysterical laughter, and complained of violent pain in the stomach
and bowels. It was at this stage that the other servants began to
suspect that she was under the influence of the _bouda_. In a short
time she became quiet, and by degrees sank into a state of lethargy,
approaching to insensibility. Either from excellent acting and great
fortitude, or from real want of feeling, the various experiments
which we made on her seemed to have no more effect than they would
have had on a mesmeric somnambulist. We pinched her repeatedly;
but pinch as hard as we could, she never moved a muscle of her face,
nor did she otherwise express the least sensation. I held a bottle
of strong sal-volatile under her nose, and stopped her mouth, and
this having no effect, I steeped some rag in it and placed it in
her nostrils; but although I am sure that she had never either seen,
smelt, or heard of such a preparation as liquid ammonia, it had no
more effect on her than rosewater. She held her thumbs tightly bent
inside her hands, as if to prevent their being seen. On my observing
this to a bystander, he told me that the thumbs were the _bouda’s_
particular perquisite, and that he would allow no person to take
them. Consequently, several persons tried to open her hand and get at
them; but she resisted with what appeared to me wonderful strength
for a girl, and bit their fingers till in more than one instance
she drew blood. I, among others, made the attempt, and though I got
a bite or two for my pains, yet either the devil had great respect
for me as an Englishman and a good Christian, or she had for me as
her master, for the biting was all a sham, and struck me as more
like kissing than anything else, compared with the fearful wounds
she had inflicted on the rest of the party.

“I had a string of amulets which I usually wore, having on it many
charms for various maladies; but I was perfectly aware that none for
the _bouda_ was among them. Still, hoping thereby to expose the cheat,
I asserted that there was a very celebrated one, and laid the whole
string on her face, expecting that she would pretend to feel the
effects, and act accordingly; but to my surprise and disappointment,
she remained quite motionless. Several persons had been round the
village to look for some talisman, but only one was found. On its
being applied to her mouth, she for an instant sprang up, bit at it,
and tore it, but then laughed, and said it was weak, and would not
vex _him_. . . . I deluged her with bucketfuls of water, but could
not even elicit from her a start or a pant, an effect usually produced
by water suddenly dashed over a person. At night she could not sleep,
but became more restless, and spoke several times. She once remarked,
in her natural tone of voice, that she was not ill, nor attacked by
the _bouda_, but merely wished to return to Adoua. She said this so
naturally that I was completely taken off my guard, and told her that
of course she might go, but that she must wait till the morrow. The
other people smiled, and whispered me that it was only a device of
the _bouda’s_ to get her into the forest, and there devour her.

“Singular coincidences not unfrequently occur in such a way as to
encourage superstitious persons in their credulity; and, strange to
say, that very night, for the first and last time that I ever heard
him during my stay at Rohabaita, the hyena kept howling and laughing
close to the village. . . .

“At night I ordered the people to close the door of the hut, and
lie across it, some inside and some out. These precautions, however,
did not satisfy them; and they insisted on having the young woman
bound hand and foot, as the only means of preventing her escape. She
lay pretty still, merely moaning, and occasionally starting up when
the hyena called. I was lying on a couch, she and the other people
on the floor. Determined to see the issue of the affair, I watched
her narrowly, and when the guard dropped off to sleep, one by one,
I pretended to do so likewise. She also was perfectly still for near
an hour, and I fancied that she too had fallen asleep, when suddenly,
the hyena calling close by, she, to my astonishment, rose without her
bonds, which I had seen, as I imagined, securely fastened. She then
crept on all-fours towards the door, which she succeeded in partly
opening. I was just going to spring on her when one of the heavily
sleeping guards made a noise, which sounded something like a grunt or
a snore, and it appeared to me that she stifled a laugh. This led me
to believe more and more that she was shamming; but I said nothing,
and she returned of her own accord to her place. Although she did
not sleep during the whole night, yet she remained still as long as
the people were quiet, only moaning a little whenever any one, by
yawning or otherwise, showed signs of waking. Next day she appeared
a little better, and talked more rationally, but still very wildly,
and would neither eat nor drink. Once we allowed her to leave the hut
for a moment, on pretence of necessity, and she went quietly enough;
but on her return being delayed longer than we considered right,
parties were sent out in quest of her, and after a long search she
was discovered more than a mile from the hut, and making for the
thickest of the jungle.

“The second night was passed much as the former one; but the
following day we prevailed on her to take a little bread. On
swallowing a piece about the size of a nut she became very sick;
and a draught of water produced a similar result. A better night
seemed to do her good, for on the following day she managed to eat
a little, and by slow degrees recovered her health.

“Since this occurrence I have witnessed many hoaxes easy to
discover, but also many which I could never see through, although
I tried every method that my small stock of ingenuity could invent.

“I remember once a poor weakly girl on whom I had tried several
false charms, but without her moving. She was lying, apparently
senseless, in the inner court of a house at Adoua, and numbers of
persons were passing to and fro to see her, when, suddenly starting
up, she screamed and struggled with so much strength, that, on
seizing her by the legs and shoulders, I and three other powerful
men could scarcely keep her down. A man near me said, ‘I am sure
some one has with him a strong charm; if so, let him produce it.’
All denied the fact; but just then a stranger entered from the outer
court, when she cried out, ‘Let me alone, and I will speak.’
This man was an Amhara soldier, perfectly unknown to all of us,
but who, hearing one of our people inquire for charms in a house
where he was drinking, had volunteered to try one which he wore,
and which he declared to be very potent. On placing the amulet near
her, she yelled and screamed horribly. The owner (addressing her as
a woman) said, ‘Will you declare yourself if I take it away?’
She howled still more at this insult, as she called it, and said,
‘I am no woman.’ The question was then repeated several times
in the masculine, but she invariably attempted to evade a direct
answer, till, as if worn out, she exclaimed, ‘I will tell all;
only take it far from me!’ It was accordingly removed to some
distance from her, and she immediately sank down as if exhausted.”

When the cure had made some progress, “the _bouda_, anxious to
delay his exit as long as possible, demanded food (as he always
does) before leaving her. A basin was fetched, in which was put a
quantity of any filth that could be found (of fowls, dogs, etc.),
and mixed up with a little water and some ashes. I took the basin
myself, and hid it where I was positive she could not see me place
it, and covered it up with some loose stones which were heaped in
the corner. The _bouda_ was then told that his supper was prepared,
and the woman rose and crawled down the court on all fours, smelling
like a dog on either side, till, passing into the yard where the
basin was, she went straight up to it, and, grubbing it out from
the place where it was hidden, devoured its abominable contents with
the utmost greediness. The _bouda_ was then supposed to leave her,
and she fell to the ground, as if fainting. From this state she
recovered her health in a few days.

“I had forgotten to mention that one of the principal symptoms
is a great longing for charcoal, of which the patient will eat any
quantity she can obtain. The first proof of the devil’s leaving
her is her allowing her thumbs to be taken hold of.”

On another occasion Parkyns, suspecting a hoax, concocted a charm
which was composed of two or three bits of dry bamboo roots wrapped
in a piece of paper, an old leaf or two, some pipe-ashes, and a tuft
of hair cut from the tail of his dog. Then “proceeding to the
place where the sufferer lay, I ordered a large-mouthed jar to be
filled with dry mules’ dung and lighted. When this had been done,
and the smoke began to rise in clouds, I put into it a small quantity
of my charm, with every appearance of caution and care, which done,
we seized the unfortunate victim, and with some difficulty forced
her head close to the jar’s mouth, and then rolled a _quarry_
(_shama_) round it and the jar, so as at once to keep her fast,
and prevent the escape of the smallest quantity of smoke. As may be
imagined, in a moment she began to cough violently, and at last,
being almost suffocated, cried out, ‘Let me off, for pity’s
sake; I am not ill, but only shamming.’ I solemnly asserted this
to be only a device of the Evil One to get away from the charm,
and held on, till her cries for pity, for the sake of the Virgin,
of Oubi, etc., becoming more confused, and her cough more violent,
I feared lest she might suffer too much if kept longer.

“That magic vessel was preserved in a conspicuous situation in the
hut where the women worked till I left the place; and I must say that
the attacks of _bouda_ were less frequent after this occurrence than
before; though I still had occasional cases where the sunken eye and
vacant stare cheated me into tenderness of heart, and I refrained
from the use of my singular but most efficacious remedy.”

Parkyns has also given an account of a similar disorder called
_tigritiya_, which may be the same as the _zar_ mentioned by Stern,
though from the description, it appears to be more serious. The
_tigritiya_, says Parkyns, is the near relation of the _bouda_,
“but generally a far more disagreeable and dangerous devil than
he. His dependents are supposed to be found in great numbers in
Godjam, which province, indeed, is celebrated for sorcerers of all
kinds. The first symptoms usually are the gradual wasting away of the
attacked person, without any cause being apparent either to herself
or her relatives. At last, however, after dieting, and the ordinary
medicines have been unsuccessfully tried, it becomes a matter of
suspicion to her friends, who determine, on ascertaining, whether or
no she be afflicted with this devil. The first thing to be observed
is to feed her daintily and dress her neatly. As her complaint and
this treatment advance, she becomes peevish and fretful, and is
always longing for something or other. Whatever she demands must
be procured, else she will become sulky, and, covering up her head,
remain sometimes for days without eating or speaking. Ornaments of
all kinds require to be borrowed for her, often at much trouble to
her unfortunate relations; for she is rarely satisfied unless she
gets an assortment of those worn by both sexes, even to the lion’s
skin of a warrior; and these are frequently almost impossible to
procure. With some persons it is necessary to have recourse to music
before the real cause of their complaint can be discovered. Drums
and other musical instruments are collected outside the chamber door,
and the musicians suddenly strike up all together, when the patient
is not expecting it. If her illness be of an ordinary kind, she will,
of course, beg of them to desist, but, if possessed, she will leap
or fall from her couch to the ground, and commence shrugging her
shoulders and swinging her head to and fro in time with the music;
beginning with a slight movement, but gradually increasing in pace
as she appears to become excited, till at last her motions are
so violent that a spectator is led to fear for the safety of her
neck. It is truly wonderful to see a sick person whom you have just
beheld stretched on a bed, a weak, emaciated bag of bones, apparently
without strength to rise, keeping up this very fatiguing motion with
a velocity and power of endurance that would be astonishing even in
an ordinarily strong person. On the music’s ceasing she rests, and
then begins to speak, telling _his_ name (that is, the devil’s)
and his family; and it is usually after this that she demands the
trinkets, specifying each article that she requires, and making their
production the condition of her dancing again. She, as I before said,
generally contrives to name objects that are most difficult to obtain,
such as the silver-ornamented velvet worn only by great war-chiefs;
and much sorrow and trouble does this cause to her relations, for
she will not be persuaded to show any sign of animation if a single
article she has named be not forthcoming; and on her dancing and
singing is supposed chiefly to depend her chance of recovery.

“The mode of ejecting the Old Gentleman from his temporary
possession is something similar to what we have already
described. After the patient has been induced to dance pretty
frequently, it is to be hoped that the devil is put into a tolerably
good humour, which desideratum can only be obtained by making
frequent and polite inquiries when he will be pleased to have
music, and by promptly procuring everything he may demand, by the
mouth of the possessed, whether it be food or wearing apparel. The
auspicious moment arriving, the friends of the sufferer inquire of
her when he will be disposed to quit his present residence and go
to his own place. The first time this question is ventured upon,
the spirit generally replies that he is not yet satisfied with
the entertainment he has received at their hands, and seizes the
opportunity of demanding something more. After a time, however, if
things go on well, he fixes a day for taking his leave, usually the
seventh after the day on which he makes his announcement. The happy
time having arrived, a large party is assembled in some wild spot
in the country, and there must be feasting, dancing, and music, as
before, but, if possible, carried on with more than usual spirit. The
patient joins in with the rest; and the devil, when satisfied,
announces his intention to depart. This he signifies through the
medium of his victim, who takes off her finery; then, bowing her
head, she kisses her hands in token of farewell, and starts off,
running at a pace which few men could equal. She cannot, however,
keep it up for more than from fifty to a hundred yards, when she
falls to the ground senseless. At this moment the spirit is supposed
to have left her; and lest he should find himself worse off outside
than in, and, changing his mind, return to her, five or six active
young men are prepared beforehand, and as soon as she starts they
follow her, and, coming up with her just as she is falling, place
themselves in threatening attitudes round her body, one holding a
drawn sword, another firing a charge of powder out of a matchlock,
and a third brandishing a lance. This is supposed to intimidate the
fiend, and prevent his return, should he be so disposed.

“The woman, who but a moment before was outdoing all the party,
both in the dance and in running, now lies stretched on the ground
helpless and emaciated, as if after a long illness. She faintly calls
for water, which is given her; and when a little restored, she is
asked her name, which she answers correctly; and as a conclusive proof
of her freedom from the power of the Evil One, she is requested to
repeat the formerly so much dreaded words—‘_B’ism Ab, ou Weld,
ou Menfus Kouddos_’ (in the name of the Father, and of the Son,
and of the Holy Ghost). A sheep or a fowl is killed, broiled on the
embers, and eaten with bread. The patient’s friends partake of
this food when the devil goes out of her. The bones and remains of
the meat are burned with fire, and the fragments of the bread buried
in the ground. These are so left for the devil, that if he should
come back to the place he may remain and feed, and not go on and
bother the woman. Thus is the cure complete, though it often takes
a considerable time to effect it.”

The characteristics of the disease have been mentioned fully because
they seem to have some bearing on certain Biblical episodes.

Sometimes, in the case of _bouda_, recourse is had to a very simple
and direct method of cure. Parkyns wrote:—“Many instances
have been related to me, wherein the friends of the possessed,
having procured charms of sufficient power to force the spirit to
declare his name and residence, but not equal to turning him out,
went at once to the place indicated, and, seizing on the blacksmith,
brought him forcibly to their home, where, having fed him well,
he was commanded to quit his victim, and at the same time his life
was threatened, lances being pointed at his breast.”[250] It is
not stated whether this procedure is effective.

Mr. Wylde dismissed the demon lightly:—“The _bouda_, or evil
spirit, that attacks some of the young women, nearly always
ugly virgins or hysterical and plain-looking girls that men
will never notice, is to my mind the greatest fraud of all their
superstitions. Every one has written about it, and I am afraid
that they have drawn a good deal on their imagination, and the
missionaries who have visited the country have, perhaps, been quite
as bigoted as the people they have tried to describe. I believe
that these peculiar fits which the women have, when they do all
sorts of filthy things, are nothing more than hysteria; many women
even in civilized countries are not responsible for their actions
when suffering from these complaints, and people who are inclined
to believe in the miraculous take for granted what the ignorant
peasantry say. I have seen several young women suffering from the
‘_bouda_’ and a bucket of cold water that I have thrown over
them, and a good smacking from my servant, has soon sent the devil
away, and the only after effect has been that they have been sulky,
because they were not made much of.”[251]

Parkyns was not a missionary, and he was a shrewd and levelheaded
observer. His comments are to the point:—“To many of my readers
it will doubtless appear, and very naturally, that all these
symptoms are impostures resorted to by the pretended sufferers as a
means of procuring the borrowed finery, and enjoying the gaieties
and festivities which are considered as the means of curing the
disorder. This sounds very probable; and I cannot deny that such is
my own opinion, though there are still some points which have rather
puzzled me. First, as in the _bouda_, the extraordinary talent for
acting which they display, and then the fact that the imposture
has not been discovered and published centuries ago, but that it
is still believed by the very people among whom it has so long been
and still daily continues to be practised. How is it possible that a
woman, who in her youthful days may have been guilty of such a hoax,
should suffer herself to be imposed upon and led into so much trouble
and expense by her children afterwards? And yet this is of common
occurrence. From this last remark let it not be supposed that young
women are the only sufferers; men and women of all ages are liable,
though the young of the fair sex are perhaps the most frequently
possessed.

“One of my servants, who, by the great anxiety he showed in watching
and tending the patients, was evidently convinced of the truth of
their sufferings, had himself been attacked many years before,
and assured me that after his recovery he had not the slightest
recollection of anything that had taken place while the fit was
on him, but that his friends had told him all about it. How was
it possible that this man, supposing his own illness to have been
feigned, could be cheated by the same means?

“Lastly, the most puzzling thing of all is when a person acts
sickness to such perfection that Azrael himself is deceived, and,
mistaking the feigned malady for a real one, finishes it by seriously
taking away the life of the shammer.

“The following case will illustrate what I mean. I had a servant
named Bairou, a youth of about nineteen, who, from having been
several years in the service of Europeans, had acquired a few of their
notions; and, among others, had learnt to ridicule the superstitions
of his countrymen. He had a sister who had been ill for several
months, and no one knew what her complaint was. At his request I
went to visit her more than once, but was unable to do anything for
her. The fact is, my doctoring is on a very limited scale; and, as
even the most eminent physicians agree that the greatest difficulty
is to ascertain what is really the matter with the patient, I stood
very little chance with Bairou’s sister, who complained of nothing,
and showed no marked signs of ailing except in entire prostration of
strength, and a rapid falling off of flesh. She gradually got worse,
till one day her brother came to me and requested me to lend him my
ornaments, and also to beg some more from my friends at the camp. I
asked whether he was going to be ‘arkee’ to some friend about to
marry; but he answered with a melancholy smile that he wanted them
for his sister; as, having tried everything else, their friends had
proposed to see if she were possessed, and he, though not believing
in such nonsense, was willing to allow them to try the experiment,
lest, if anything happened to her, they should upbraid him afterwards
for having caused her death by his obstinacy and incredulity.

“I, of course, quite approved of his determination, and easily
succeeded in obtaining the articles required of me. She was dressed
up in the borrowed finery as she lay on the couch; and at a signal
the musicians outside commenced playing. At the first notes her
eyes began to brighten, and, raising herself up for the first
time during many days, she swayed her body to and fro for a few
moments, after the manner of one possessed; but, becoming quickly
exhausted, she sank back, saying, with a faint smile, ‘It is too
late now!’ She repeated these words twice; they were the last I
ever heard her utter. Three hours after she was a corpse. Was this,
too, a sham? Or what may it be called? Possibly some freak of her
disordered imagination.”[252]

Stern had the tendency to moralize which prevailed at the time when he
wrote, but there can be little doubt that he offered a sound opinion
in the following passage:—“In bringing this demoniacal subject
to a close, I am forcibly reminded of the words, ‘Be sure your sin
will find you out.’ That there is something in these diseases and
in their mode of cure which transcends ordinary disorders no one
who has stood beside a frantic and agonized patient and wondered
at the sudden and more than dramatic transition from raving frenzy
to childlike docility can well deny; but without deciding whether
it is epilepsy, catalepsy, or hysteria, I am quite sure that fiends
and spirits have less to do with the matter than the irregular life
and dissolute course which so many pursue.”[253]

It would, indeed, be a matter for astonishment if marked nervous
affections did not occur in a country where, among the people of
both sexes, unwholesome diet and parasitical irritation so often
combine their results with those of sensual habits of body and mind
acquired early in life.

It has already been said that the Abyssinian soldier wears
no uniform, and is not easily distinguished by his appearance
from the civilian. But there is a distinct military class, with
characteristics of its own. “There is no harder worker,” said
Mr. Wylde, “than the Abyssinian peasant, and no more harmless and
hospitable person when left alone and properly treated[254]; and no
more truculent, worthless, conceited, lazy, and useless individual
than the Abyssinian soldier, who formerly did nothing but prey upon
the defenceless cultivator. Circumstances are now altering this,
but before the country settles down to modern civilization and
makes any great strides forward, a civil revolution must take place,
which may not be far distant.”[255] The same writer has pointed
out that the soldiery “were called into existence by Abyssinia
being surrounded by Mohammedan enemies, and little by little they
increased and multiplied till they got out of all proportion to
the wants of a peaceful country.” The king’s exchequer cannot
provide pay for these men, so, to keep them quiet, they are allowed
to live by exaction. Mr. Wylde’s strictures apply to the “lazy,
loafing lot of mercenaries who have never done anything in their
lives except fighting and looting, men without homes and without
territory, ready to fight for those who give the highest pay, and who
do not value the lives of their fellow-Christians at the price of a
sheep or a jar of hydromel;” and he adds, “I am writing only of
the mercenary soldier whose father and grandfather, perhaps, were
the same, and not of the bulk of the fighting force of the country,
who are yeomen farmers and their servants, or the peasants and their
families.”[256]

The state of feeling between the peasantry and the soldiery might
have serious consequences if the Abyssinian monarch undertook an
important campaign outside his territory. “The great danger to an
unpopular king attempting such an expedition would be, in the absence
of the army, a rising of an oppressed peasantry, backed up by some
European Power, to put down the military party. The arming of the
peasantry and farmer class with modern weapons has not altogether
been a blessing to the present ruler, and may end not only in his
downfall, but in that of the barons as well.”[257]

The fighting value of the Abyssinian army is by no means a _quantité
négligeable_ in the politics of Eastern Africa, and it would be very
easy to underrate it. Mr. Wylde, in his narrative of the battle of
Adoua, has given a very complete account of the numbers, armament
and temper of the Negus’s forces, and he does not agree with the
estimate formed by Mansfield Parkyns of their personal valour.[258]
He has also described the tactics which they customarily adopt
in attacking, and has made some interesting observations on the
employment of artillery, mounted infantry, and cavalry in the
country.”[259]

The limitations to the activity of the forces are chiefly determined
by commissariat difficulties. “The Abyssinian hordes are the same
as the locust, they live on what they can get from the surrounding
country; and when they have devoured everything, they have to move
on to another place where supplies are procurable. At the outside
an Abyssinian who is not one of the regular soldiers can keep the
field for a couple of months, and then he has to take one transport
animal with him, with a boy or girl, generally the latter, to look
after his riding animal and to cook his food. The regular troops are
the same; they have to bring supplies with them, which they get from
their leaders before they set out on the campaign; after these are
finished, unless fresh supplies come forward, they have to live on
the country.”[260]

Probably the most recently published paper dealing with the Abyssinian
army is the despatch, dated June 2, 1904, of Colonel Rochfort,
C.B., R.A., included in the official account of the operations in
Somaliland.[261] Colonel Rochfort accompanied the forces which his
Majesty Menelek II., on the invitation of the British Government,
sent in 1903, “to intercept the Mullah’s retreat, should he
attempt to escape to the south or west.” As might be imagined from
the nature of the document, it contains no descriptive account of
the Abyssinian Expedition, and very little critical comment upon
it. But the following particulars may serve to convey some idea of
Abyssinian operations in the field at the present time. The strength
of the force first employed was about five thousand men, nearly all
of whom were mounted on mules. It left Harrar for its destination
(the Webi Shebeli, near Hilowen) on February 18, 1903, under the
command of Fituari Gabri.

Surprise parties were sent out to visit all wells within reach
to the north, and “the Abyssinians carried out these raids
with considerable dash and some success, showing their mobility
by the ease with which they covered long distances, sometimes a
hundred miles in forty-eight hours; but as at this time they had no
special arrangements for carrying water, their scope was necessarily
restricted.

“During these operations the main body was attacked by a
considerable number of Dervishes. The attack was delivered in
thick bush on the arrival of the force in bivouac, and before the
zareba was formed; it was pushed home with resolution, but repulsed
with loss. The pursuit was carried out with vigour, and the Dervish
casualties were estimated at three hundred. The Abyssinians returned
their loss at thirty-one killed and wounded. The Abyssinians were
now living on the country, and exigencies of supply rendered it
necessary to move down stream to Mekunna. . . .

“On the morning of May 28 the Abyssinians left Hahi, and after a
series of forced marches surprised the Habr Suliman section of the
Bagheri tribe on the morning of May 31 at Jeyd, which is thirty
miles south of Bur. The Dervishes suffered heavy losses, and all
their camels and stock were captured. . . . This terminated the
first phase of the operations, and the force returned to Harrar.”

Later, the Negus consented to send another expedition, and
“expressed the wish for an increase in the number of medical
officers to accompany his force, and also suggested the issue of
water-bottles to his men. At the conclusion of the first phase of the
operations I had represented to the War Office that the absence of
any special arrangements for carrying water had seriously affected
the mobility of the Abyssinians; this want was now remedied by the
issue of one thousand twelve-gallon tanks; pumps and waterproof
sheets for improvising drinking-troughs were also supplied by his
Majesty’s Government.

“There is no organized system of supply in the Abyssinian army,
and hitherto arrangements made individually to carry one month’s
supply on a mule or donkey had been found sufficient to enable
expeditions to reach a district from which supplies could be drawn;
such a course did not meet the conditions under which the present
force was about to act, owing to the distance to be covered, the
necessity for carrying water, and the total absence of any grain,
either on the road or in the probable zone of operations. After
some unavoidable delay, arrangements were improvised for carrying
two months’ supply,[262] and his Highness Ras Makunnan,[263]
who personally interested himself in the despatch of the force,
subsequently supplemented this supply by sending three small convoys
as transport became available. The force commenced concentration in
the neighbourhood of Harrar on November 27, 1903. . . . The advanced
party reached Wardair on January 12, 1904. . . . The resources of the
country in the neighbourhood of the River Fafan and the arrival of two
more small convoys enabled the force to keep the field until March 28,
1904, when the Abyssinian commander (Fituari Gabri) was advised that
the retreat of the Mullah through the Sorl, pursued by the British
columns, rendered the presence of the Abyssinian expedition no longer
necessary, and the force marched for Harrar.”[264]

Those who wish to acquaint themselves with the home life of the
Abyssinian people should read the works of Mansfield Parkyns and
Mr. Augustus Wylde. The latter has given especially full details
of the surroundings and habits of the middle and lower classes of
the nation.

Mr. Wylde has chapters on “Shooting in Abyssinia” and “Outfit
and Rifles.” His book also contains an appendix on “Animals met
with in Abyssinia and on the Borders,” ranging in its scope from
lions to sand-martins. There are several passages dealing with sport
and natural history in Parkyns’s volume, and Mr. Vivian’s work
contains observations on the same subjects.

Stecker’s scientific notes have been frequently mentioned. His
brief but pithy treatise amply repays study. Harris’s “Highlands
of Ethiopia” has valuable appendices on the climate, geology,
botany, and zoology of the southern provinces (Vol. II).

Probably no country at the present time offers a better field for
research, sport, and exploration than Abyssinia.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 123: “The Highlands of Æthiopia,” by Major
W. Cornwallis Harris, of the H.E.I.C.’s Engineers, 1844,
vol. iii. pp. 3, 4.]

[Footnote 124: “Wanderings among the Falashes,” p. 185.]

[Footnote 125: “Modern Abyssinia,” pp. 352, 353.]

[Footnote 126: Ib. p. 16.]

[Footnote 127: “The Highlands of Æthiopia,” vol. iii. pp. 84-86.]

[Footnote 128: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 157.]

[Footnote 129: Mansfield Parkyns wrote: “The ordination of priests
and deacons is, I believe, tolerably simple; for instance, I have
been told that, on the arrival of the present Abouna from Egypt,
the candidates, who are only required to be able to read a little,
were collected in a mass near the place where he was. The bishop then
went through some ceremony, and ended by pronouncing a blessing,
and blowing in the direction of the assembled crowd, who were thus
all ordained. Among these was a woman with her child in her arms,
who had come thither from motives of curiosity. She, too, was
of course ordained; but I don’t remember hearing that she ever
officiated. If a priest be married previous to his ordination, he
is allowed to remain so; but no one can marry after having entered
the priesthood.” (“Life in Abyssinia,” p. 294.)]

[Footnote 130: See p. 240.]

[Footnote 131: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” pp. 307, 308.]

[Footnote 132: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 321.]

[Footnote 133: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 214 _seq._]

[Footnote 134: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” pp. 201,
202. Major Harris inspected the Cathedral of St. Michael at
Ankóber, and in his description of it wrote, “In the holy of
holies is deposited the sacred _tabot_, consecrated at Gondar by
the delegate of the Coptic patriarch; and around the veil that fell
before this mysterious emblem there hung in triumph four sporting
pictures from the pencil of Alken, which had been presented to the
king. They represented the great Leicestershire steeple-chase, and
Dick Christian, with his head in a ditch, occupied by far the most
prominent niche in the Cathedral of St. Michael!”]

[Footnote 135: Dufton, “A Journey through Abyssinia,” p. 90.]

[Footnote 136: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 233 _seq._]

[Footnote 137: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 297 _seq._]

[Footnote 138: “Life in Abyssinia,” pp. 160, 161.]

[Footnote 139: Ib. p. 277.]

[Footnote 140: “Life of Bruce,” by Major Head, p. 266.]

[Footnote 141: “Abyssinia,” p. 276 _seq._]

[Footnote 142: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. p. 139.]

[Footnote 143: Ib. p. 138.]

[Footnote 144: Major Head, “Life of Bruce,” p. 265.]

[Footnote 145: Ib. p. 268.]

[Footnote 146: “Modern Abyssinia,” pp. 361, 362.]

[Footnote 147: The Alaka is the superior of a monastery or other
head of an ecclesiastical establishment.]

[Footnote 148: Major Harris, “The Highlands of Ethiopia,”
vol. iii. pp. 134, 135.]

[Footnote 149: “Abyssinia,” p. 283.]

[Footnote 150: “British Mission to Abyssinia,” pp. 225, 226.]

[Footnote 151: “The British Mission to Abyssinia,”
vol. i. p. 227. Cf. p. 107 of this book.]

[Footnote 152: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. pp. 133,
134.]

[Footnote 153: “The British Mission to Abyssinia,”
vol. i. p. 217.]

[Footnote 154: “The British Mission to Abyssinia,”
vol. i. p. 217. Stern did not observe this separation of the sexes.]

[Footnote 155: “Abyssinia,” p. 277.]

[Footnote 156: “Abyssinia,” p. 288.]

[Footnote 157: Cf. p. 224.]

[Footnote 158: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. p. 132.]

[Footnote 159: This appendix of Major Harris’s book was evidently
prepared with care, and it is therefore surprising to find the saints,
whose deeds are commemorated on October 4, described as “Papa and
Mamma”! Presumably the explanation is that there was humour among
the compositors of the year 1844, and that the compiler neglected
his proof-reading.]

[Footnote 160: “Abyssinia,” pp. 280, 285.]

[Footnote 161: “Life in Abyssinia,” pp. 277, 278.]

[Footnote 162: A province of Abyssinia.]

[Footnote 163: “Abyssinia Described,” by J. C. Hotten, p. 160.]

[Footnote 164: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. p. 139.]

[Footnote 165: Parkyns, “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 294.]

[Footnote 166: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 218.]

[Footnote 167: Harris, “The Highlands of Ethiopia,”
vol. iii. p. 141.]

[Footnote 168: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 181.]

[Footnote 169: “A Journey through Abyssinia,” p. 91.]

[Footnote 170: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 163.]

[Footnote 171: “Abyssinia Described,” p. 164.]

[Footnote 172: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 164.]

[Footnote 173: “Abyssinia Described,” p. 159.]

[Footnote 174: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 91.]

[Footnote 175: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 131.]

[Footnote 176: Ib.]

[Footnote 177: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 289.]

[Footnote 178: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. p. 148.]

[Footnote 179: Ib.]

[Footnote 180: This was the “Sultan Segued” who caused the still
existing bridge over the Blue Nile to be built. See p. 147.]

[Footnote 181: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. p. 186.]

[Footnote 182: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 295.]

[Footnote 183: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 306.]

[Footnote 184: P. 136.]

[Footnote 185: “Narrative of the Portuguese Embassy to Abyssinia,”
1520-27, translated and edited by Lord Stanley of Alderley, Hakluyt
Society, 1881.]

[Footnote 186: “History of Ethiopia,” made English by J. P. Gent,
1684.]

[Footnote 187: The reader need hardly be reminded that the same
interdiction is in force elsewhere. It is the refusal of the
_connubium_ that renders the British population in the East of London
and elsewhere unable to assimilate the large colonies of Jews who
have lately immigrated into this country, and in great part causes
the difficulties of the “Alien Question.” The subject has been
treated in Major Evans Gordon’s very interesting book, “The
Alien Immigrant” (1903).]

[Footnote 188: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 187.]

[Footnote 189: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. p. 145.]

[Footnote 190: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” pp. 185, 186.]

[Footnote 191: “Abyssinia,” p. 329.]

[Footnote 192: Major Head’s “Biography,” p. 162.]

[Footnote 193: Major Head’s “Biography of Bruce,” pp. 162, 163.]

[Footnote 194: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 186.]

[Footnote 195: See “Wanderings among the Falashas,” chap. xiv. _et
seq._]

[Footnote 196: Hotten, p. 166.]

[Footnote 197: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 188.]

[Footnote 198: Greenberg and Co., 80, Chancery Lane, London.]

[Footnote 199: Hotten, pp. 167, 168.]

[Footnote 200: Dufton, “A Journey through Abyssinia,” p. 143.]

[Footnote 201: The ancient city of Axum is remarkable for the
ruins and other traces of an early and extinct civilization which
it contains. These have been the occasion of much speculation among
archæologists. An account of the obelisks and other remains was given
by Bruce; Mr. Wylde has made some interesting comments on the subject
in his chapter on Axum; many writers on Abyssinia have referred to
it at some length; and the late Mr. Theodore Bent dealt with the
antiquities of the place in “The Sacred City of the Ethiopians”
(Longmans, Green and Co., 1893).]

[Footnote 202: Augustus Wylde, “Modern Abyssinia,” pp. 18, 407.]

[Footnote 203: See p. 143.]

[Footnote 204: Hotten, p. 167.]

[Footnote 205: Plowden, quoted by Hotten, p. 166. Plowden’s
description applies to the fifties of the nineteenth century.]

[Footnote 206: “The British Mission to Abyssinia,”
vol. i. p. 209.]

[Footnote 207: “According to Abyssinian tradition, the King
of Tigre, soon after his conversion to Christianity, crossed the
Taccazze, and invaded Simien and Amhara. Here he met a people who were
neither Pagans nor Christians, a marvel which aroused the monarch’s
curiosity, and he inquired what they believed; to which, in a laconic
style, they replied in their own dialect, _Kam Ant_, _i.e._ ‘as
thou,’ from whence they obtained their present appellation.”]

[Footnote 208: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 42 _seq._]

[Footnote 209: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 144.]

[Footnote 210: “Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. p. 393.]

[Footnote 211: Hotten, p. 120.]

[Footnote 212: Ib. p. 186.]

[Footnote 213: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 366.]

[Footnote 214: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” chap. ix; Hotten,
p. 121.]

[Footnote 215: See, _e.g._ “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 368.]

[Footnote 216: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 310.]

[Footnote 217: Hotten, p. 183 _seq._]

[Footnote 218: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. iii. p. 184.]

[Footnote 219: Hotten, p. 158.]

[Footnote 220: See, _e.g._ p. 121.]

[Footnote 221: “Abyssinia,” p. 204.]

[Footnote 222: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 254.]

[Footnote 223: “Life in Abyssinia,” pp. 255, 256.]

[Footnote 224: Parkyns, pp. 266, 267.]

[Footnote 225: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 181 _seq._ “Life in
Abyssinia,” p. 256 _seq._]

[Footnote 226: “The British Mission to Abyssinia,”
vol. ii. p. 219.]

[Footnote 227: In matters of detail this account applies, of course,
to Abyssinia in the first half of the nineteenth century.]

[Footnote 228: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,”
vol. iii. pp. 166-168.]

[Footnote 229: Hotten, p. 137.]

[Footnote 230: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 119.]

[Footnote 231: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 268.]

[Footnote 232: Johnson’s translation.]

[Footnote 233: “Abyssinia,” p. 232.]

[Footnote 234: “The British Mission to Abyssinia,”
vol. ii. pp. 215, 216.]

[Footnote 235: “Abyssinia,” p. 231.]

[Footnote 236: Hotten, p. 137.]

[Footnote 237: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 268.]

[Footnote 238: See p. 223.]

[Footnote 239: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 118.]

[Footnote 240: “The British Mission to Abyssinia,”
vol. ii. pp. 219, 220.]

[Footnote 241: Ib. vol. ii. p. 216.]

[Footnote 242: Johnson’s translation.]

[Footnote 243: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 245 _seq._]

[Footnote 244: “Abyssinia,” p. 231.]

[Footnote 245: “The Highlands of Ethiopia,” vol. ii. p. 156
_seq._]

[Footnote 246: Hotten, p. 166.]

[Footnote 247: “Modern Abyssinia,” 1901, p. 143.]

[Footnote 248: “A Journey through Abyssinia,” p. 167 _seq._]

[Footnote 249: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 154 _seq._]

[Footnote 250: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 300 _seq._]

[Footnote 251: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 385.]

[Footnote 252: “Life in Abyssinia,” p. 318 _seq._]

[Footnote 253: “Wanderings among the Falashas,” p. 161.]

[Footnote 254: Compare Consul Plowden’s remarks quoted on p. 70
of this book.]

[Footnote 255: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 3.]

[Footnote 256: Ib., p. 165.]

[Footnote 257: “Modern Abyssinia,” p. 224.]

[Footnote 258: Compare, _e.g._, his remark on p. 223, “They have
any amount of pluck,” with Parkyns’s comments quoted on p. 24
of this book.]

[Footnote 259: _E.g._ p. 222.]

[Footnote 260: Ib., p. 216.]

[Footnote 261: Eyre and Spottiswoode.]

[Footnote 262: Cf. p. 308.]

[Footnote 263: Mr. Wylde describes the Ras as “by far the cleverest
and most enlightened man that the country possesses.” He is a
possible successor to the Abyssinian throne.]

[Footnote 264: Colonel Rochfort’s Report.]




                               APPENDIX


Abyssinia is a deeply interesting country from the point of view of
geographical distribution, and it is much to be regretted that Dr.
A. J. Hayes did not have the opportunity of collecting insects on a
large scale. The animals of the southern half of Arabia are Ethiopian
in character; but in the Abyssinian mountains we may expect to find,
and we do find, a certain amount of Oriental affinity.

The valuable little collection of insects made by Dr. Hayes has been
presented by him to the Hope Department of the Oxford University Museum,
where the specimens can be seen and studied by every naturalist
interested in the great problems of distribution. The attention of the
donor was directed to the Oxford Museum by Mr. W. L. S. Loat, who has
himself contributed a large amount of valuable material. Dr. Hayes’
collection was made, in February 1903, in the vicinity of Lake Tsana,
at a height of about 6500 feet. A complete list is furnished below. Dr.
Dixey has kindly determined and made remarks upon the _Pierinae_.

                            =LEPIDOPTERA.=

  NYMPHALIDAE.

       DANAINAE:  1  _Limnas chrysippus_ (Linn.) ♀. The ground colour
                      of the pale tint characteristic of Oriental
                      specimens and usually replaced by a much darker
                      shade in African.

       DANAINAE:  2  _L. chrysippus_ (Linn.) var. _alcippus_ (Cram.)
                      ♂♂. Typical.

    NYMPHALINAE:  1  _Neptis agatha_ (Cram.).

                  1  _Precis cebrene_ (Trim.).

  PAPILIONIDAE.

       PIERINAE:  1  _Catopsilia florella_ (Fabr.) ♂.

                  2  _Colias electra_ (Linn.) ♂ ♀.

                  3  _Terias brigitta_ (Cram.) ♂ ♂ ♀.
                      Dry season forms; not extreme.

                  3  _Eronia leda_ (Boisd.) ♂ ♀ ♀.

                      One of these females has an orange apical patch
                      on the forewing, almost as distinct as that of
                      the male.

                  1  _Pinacopteryx_ sp. ?

                      A female, rather worn; simulating _Mylothris
                      agathina_ ♀.

                      Probably a new species, but being in poor
                      condition and a single specimen it would not
                      be advisable to describe it.

                  1  _Belenois severina_ (Cram.) ♀. Dry season form.

                  1  _Phrissura_ sp. ♂.

                      A male, of the _P. sylvia_ group. This form of
                      _Phrissura_ has not previously been recorded
                      from any part of East Africa.

   PAPILIONINAE:  8  _Papilio demodocus_ (Esp.).

                            =HYMENOPTERA.=

                  1  _Dorylus fimbriatus_ (Shuck.) ♂.

                             =COLEOPTERA.=

  LAMELLICORNIA.

   SCARABAEIDAE:  1  _Oniticellus inaequalis_ (Reiche).
                      Only known from Abyssinia.

     CETONIIDAE:  1  _Pachnoda abyssinica_ (Blanch.).

                  1  _Pachnoda stehelini_ (Schaum).
                      Both Abyssinian species.

  PHYTOPHAGA.

     CASSIDIDAE:  1  _Aspidomorpha punctata_ (Fab.).

  HETEROMERA.

    CANTHARIDAE:  2  _Mylabris_, probably a new species.

                             =NEUROPTERA.=

                  1  _Nemoptera_, probably a new species.

                             =ORTHOPTERA.=

     ACRIDIIDAE:  1  _Cyrtacanthacris_ sp.

                  1  _Phymateus brunneri?_ (Bolivar).

                  1  _Phymateus leprosus_ (Fab.).

                  1  _Petasia anchoreta_ (Bolivar).

       MANTIDAE:  1  _Sphodromantis bioculata_ (Burm.).

                  1  _Chiropus aestuans?_ (Sauss.).

In addition to the above, Dr. Hayes presented three insects captured by
him at Gedaref in the Soudan, including a pair of a magnificent new
species of Buprestid beetle of the genus _Sternocera_, taken _in coitu_.
This species has recently been described, from Dr. Hayes’ specimen and
two others in the British Museum, by Mr. C. O. Waterhouse, who has
given it the name _Sternocera druryi_ (“Ann. Mag. Nat. Hist.” Oct.,
1904, p. 247). The third insect is an example of a Cantharid beetle,
which does great damage to the crops at Gadarif. Its determination as
_Mylabris hybrida_ (Bohem.) is therefore a matter of some importance.


                                THE END

                               * * * * *
   PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.




[Illustration: THE ANGLO-EGYPTIAN SUDAN

_By permission of the Egyptian Government._

_London: Smith, Elder & Co._

_Stanford’s Geogl. Estabt., London._]


[Illustration: LAKE TSANA

_By permission of the Egyptian Government._

_London: Smith, Elder & Co._

_Stanford’s Geogl. Estabt., London._]




Transcriber's Note:


pg 70 (footnote 41) Changed: Abyssinnia and its people to: Abyssinia

pg 91-92 (footnote 61) Changed: equitidœ to: equitidæ

pg 91-92 (footnote 61) Changed: nectariniœ to: nectariniæ

pg 96 Changed: plently of fish to: plenty

pg 271 Changed: been complied by to: compiled

pg 293 Changed: general langour to: languor

pg 311 (footnote 262) Changed: Cp. to: Cf.

Minor punctuation changes have been done silently.

Spelling inconsistencies have been left unchanged.