tunity to get safely through the mountains to Adoua.

The escort was composed of about 150 men of the most delightful kind, with all sorts of queer arms, lances, antiquated guns, which they held down from the back of their necks, and rhinoceroshide shields mounted in silver. We were told that

there were no less than five of the rank of Fitaurari or general, and these had all their little armourbearers, who ran along in front, carrying the shields and lances. The five generals had only three mules between them, but they rode two and two, changing about. Fitaurari Mangashah was full of fun, with a great number of projecting teeth, which he showed whenever he laughed; and they were all full of

compliments, the burden of which was how dearly they loved the English, because they spent so much money and gave such handsome presents a gentle hint, on entering Abyssinia, that the same was expected of us. It was terribly hot, and the road was full of thorny acacias, which made progress difficult; they say that the acacia branches are only cut down when the king passes by; and as King Menelek never shows himself in Tigrè, but remains shut up in Shoa, there is every prospect that this road will soon become filled up. After a gradual ascent of about 500 feet, we reached a long narrow plain, entirely shut in by mountains, at five o'clock in the afternoon. When about half-way across the plain we decided to pitch our camp for the night, and chose a huge sycamore tree as offering pleasant shade. It was full of beautiful blue birds and monkeys; but it had other occupants too, in the shape of bees, which forthwith attacked us, and we were obliged to mount our mules as quickly as possible and ride off. Our wretched interpreter, who had disturbed these bees, was screeching and waving his arms about wildly, with his curly hair full of them, and it was some time before he was freed from his tormentors and pacified again. All the shade we could get for our camp was from a thorny mimosa without leaves, and until the sun went down we were almost boiled alive.

This spot is the usual halting-place for caravans, and is called Lah-lah-ah, and soon after our arrival peasants came from a village on the hills, with

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presents of milk and bread, for which we had to pay considerably over the market value. Our escort kept awake all the night, singing and talking, for they said the place was dangerous, and a continual watch was necessary; so we didn't get much sleep, and arose at four, that we might perform part of the journey before the heat became great. An hour's ride brought us to the foot of the mountains, up which we toiled for several hours, reaching about ten o'clock a cool and shady spot with water, where we halted for our breakfast and midday rest. By the way, we passed the ruins of a once flourishing village called Daro-tachle, and on several peaks around us we saw other ruined villages. Fitaurari Mangashah apologised for these in touching terms, lamenting the misfortunes and decay of his country, to which remarks we felt it hard to reply.

At Mai Koumaul, the stream where we halted, we were met by another grandee and more soldiers, sent by Deghetch Ambeh, Governor of Adoua, and a relation of Ras Mangashah, to welcome us; and with now quite a formidable army our caravan started about one o'clock on the last stage of its journey to Adoua. We soon entered a narrow pass, densely wooded, and walled in on either side by precipitous cliffs; this is known as the Gashiwarkeh pass, and is reckoned the most dangerous point on the whole road. Here the Greek informed us that his brothers had been murdered about three months before, and we were shown the grave of a rich bishop of Adoua who had here been fallen upon by thieves and assassinated. Al

together this entrance into Abyssinia was not a very reassuring one, and we felt that we were now amongst a treacherous and lawless race. Shortly after passing through the Gashiwarkeh pass we got our first glimpse of Adoua, nestling beneath its fantastic mountains, but spoilt irretrievably by the fact that its principal church has in late years been given a zinc roof instead of the old-fashioned thatch. This horrible roof catches the sun, and gleams provokingly, and was a perpetual eyesore to us all the time we were at Adoua.

The mountains of Adoua are certainly the most picturesque and fantastic in shape of any mountains I know; most of them are nearly inaccessible-ambas, as they call them, where the chiefs of Tigrè repair in troublous times. Many of them are fortified and victualled in case of need. One or two have monasteries perched on the top, where monks dwell, as they do at Bizen and Debra Sina, cut off from the world by precipices and toilsome paths. Others, again, have political prisoners thereon, kept there in inaccessible points, from which escape is impossible. The curious fact is that most of them have springs of water near the summit. Bermudez, the Portuguese patriarch who fought so brave a fight for the conversion of the Abyssinians in the middle of the sixteenth century, describes quaintly thus his imprisonment on one of these ambas: There are in this country certain high hills, commanding the country with great advantage, and all about steep like a broken rock, so that in nowise can they be ascended but by very narrow ways made