Much of what I have said, and a great deal of what I have still to narrate,

would appear unintelligible if I were not to describe the conduct Theodore

had adopted towards foreigners. It is plain, from facts that I will now

adduce, that Theodore had for several years systematically insulted them.

He did so partly to dazzle the people with his power, and partly because he

believed that complete impunity would always attend his grossest misdeeds.

In December, 1856, David, the Coptic Patriarch of Alexandria, arrived in

Abyssinia, bearer of certain presents for Theodore, and the expression of

the good-will of the Pasha of Egypt. The fame of Theodore had spread far

and wide in the Soudan; and probably the Egyptian authorities, in order to

save that province from being plundered, or unwilling to engage at the time

in an expensive war with their powerful neighbour, adopted that expedient

as the best suited to appease the ire of their former foe. As usual, Theodore

found an excuse for the ill treatment he inflicted upon the aged Patriarch, on

the ground that a diamond cross presented to him was only intended as an

insult: it meant, he said, that they considered him as a vassal; and on the

Patriarch proposing that he should send a letter to the Pasha, accompanied

with suitable presents, and that the Pasha would in return send him fire-

arms, cannons, and officers to drill his troops, his Majesty exclaimed, "I

see, they now desire me to declare myself their tributary."

Most probably Theodore, always jealous of the power of the Church, took

advantage of the presence of its highest dignitary to show to his army whom

they had to fear and obey. On the pretexts above mentioned he caused one

day a hedge to be built around the Patriarch's residence, and for several

days the eldest son of the Coptic Church kept his father in close

confinement. Theodore had some time previously been excommunicated by

the Bishop; he therefore enjoyed very much the disreputable quarrel which

took place on that matter, as he induced the Patriarch, through fear, to take

off the excommunication of his inferior. After a while, however, Theodore

apologized, and allowed the terrified old man to depart. The Patriarch on

his return told his tale, but the fame for justice and wisdom of the would-be

descendant of Solomon was so great that, far from being credited, the

Turkish Government, who attributed the failure of the negotiation to the

unfitness of their agent, soon after despatched a mission on a larger scale,

together with numerous and costly presents, under the orders of an

experienced and trusty officer, Abdul Rahman Bey.

The Egyptian envoy reached Dembea in March, 1859. At first Theodore,

gratified at receiving such beautiful gifts, treated the ambassador with all

courtesy and distinction; but on account of the unsafe condition of the

country at the time, he took his guest with him, and considering Magdala a

proper and suitable place of residence, left him there. He soon ignored him

entirely, and the unfortunate man had to remain nearly two years, a semiprisoner, on that amba. At last, on the reception of several strongly worded

and threatening letters from the Egyptian Government, he allowed him to

depart, but caused him to be plundered of all he had near the frontier, by the

Shum of Tschelga. Theodore, after the departure of Abdul Rahman Bey,

wrote to the Egyptian Government, denying any knowledge of the plunder,

and accusing the envoy of serious crimes. Hearing of this, the unfortunate

Bey, fearing that his denials would not stand against the charge brought

against him by the pious Emperor, poisoned himself at Berber.

His third victim was the Nab of Arkiko. He had accompanied the Emperor

to Godjam, when, without reason given, the Emperor cast him into prison

and loaded him with chains. It was only on the representation of several

influential merchants, who, fearing that the Nab's relations would retaliate

on the Abyssinian caravans, impressed upon his Majesty the prudence of

letting him depart, that the Emperor allowed his vassal to return to his

country.

The same day on which he imprisoned the Nab of Arkiko, M. Lejean, a

member of the French diplomatic service, disgusted with Abyssinia and the

many discomforts of camp life, presented himself before the Emperor to

apply for leave to depart. Theodore could not grant the desired interview,

but M. Lejean persisted in his demand, and sent a second time, representing

that, as his Majesty was en route for Godjam, each day would increase the

difficulty of his return. Such presumption could not be tolerated. Theodore

had defied Egypt; he would now defy France. Lejean was seized, and had to

remain in full uniform for twenty-four hours in chains. He was only

released on his making an humble apology, and desisting from his desire to

leave the country. He was sent to Gaffat, and ordered to abide there until the

return of Mr. Bardel.

Theodore scoffed at and imprisoned the Patriarch of Alexandria; the

Egyptian ambassador he kept a semi-prisoner for several years; the Nab he

chained; the French consul he chained, insulted, and kicked out of the

country. Nothing came of all this: on the contrary, in his own camp his

influence was greater. Under these circumstances, any barbarian would

have done and thought exactly as Theodore did. He came to the conviction

that, either through fear of his power or the impossibility of reaching him,

whatever ill treatment he might inflict on strangers, no punishment could

possibly overtake him. That such was his impression is evident from the

gradually increasing brutality of his conduct, always most severe, but never

so outrageous as in the case of the British captives. The savage, barbarous

treatment he inflicted on Messrs. Stern, Cameron, Rosenthal, and their

followers, is without precedent in modern history. Theodore at last took no

trouble to hide his contempt for Europeans and their governments.

He knew in August, 1864, that before a month an answer to his letter to the

Queen had arrived at Massowah. "Let them wait my good pleasure," was

the only observation he made on the subject. It is probable that he would

never have taken any notice of her Majesty's letter or of the mission sent to

him, if his rapid fall—at that time beginning—had not influenced his

conduct. When we arrived at Massowah in July, 1864, Theodore was still

powerful, at the head of a large army, and master of the greater part of the

country. His campaign to Shoa in 1865 was most disastrous. He lost by it,

not only that prosperous kingdom, but a large portion of his army; the

Gallas seizing the occasion to annoy him greatly on his return. He foresaw

his fall, and it probably struck him that the friendship of England might be

useful to him; or should he doubt its possibility, he might seize us as

hostages, in order to make capital out of us; therefore, but with apparent

reluctance, he granted us the long-expected permission to enter his country.

We have now the solution of a part of this difficult problem; we can

understand, to a certain degree, the strange character of this man so

remarkable in many ways. Imbued with a few European notions, he longed

to obtain some of the advantages he had heard of: but how? England and

France would only return his friendship by words—he wanted deeds; sweet

phrases he would not listen to. He soon became convinced that he might

with impunity insult foreigners or envoys from friendly states; and at last it

struck him that, while he insulted and ill used Europeans, he might as well

keep in his hands an important man like a consul, as a hostage.

CHAPTER IV.

News of Cameron's Imprisonment reaches Home—Mr. Rassam is selected

to proceed to the Court of Gondar, and is accompanied by Dr. Blanc—

Delays and Difficulties in Communicating with Theodore—Description of

Massowah and its Inhabitants—Arrival of a Letter from the Emperor.

In the spring of 1864 it was vaguely rumoured that an African potentate had

imprisoned a British consul; the fact appeared so strange, that few credited

the assertion. It was soon ascertained, however, that a certain Emperor of

Abyssinia, calling himself Theodore, had cast into prison and loaded with

chains, Captain Cameron, the consul accredited to his court, and several

missionaries stationed in his dominions. A small pencil note from Captain

Cameron at last reached Mr. Speedy, the acting vice-consul at Massowah,

giving the number and names of the captives, and suggesting that their

release depended entirely on the receipt of a civil letter in answer to the one

the King had forwarded some months before.

There is no doubt that much difficulty presented itself in order to meet the

request expressed by Consul Cameron. Little was known about Abyssinia,

and the conduct of its ruler was so strange, so contrary to all precedents,

that it became a matter of grave consideration how to communicate with the

Abyssinian Emperor without endangering the liberty of others.

In the official correspondence on Abyssinian affairs there is a letter from

Mr. Colquhoun, her Majesty's Agent and Consul-General in Egypt, dated

Cairo, 10th May, 1864, in which that gentleman informs Earl Russell "that

it is difficult to get at Theodore." He was expecting to learn what means the

Bombay Government could place at his disposal, as from Egypt none were

available; he adds, "except from Aden I really can see no measures feasible,

and such could only be of a mild nature, for from the character we have had

of late of the King, he would appear to become subject to fits of rage which

almost deprive him of reason, and would render all approach dangerous ."

On June 16th the Foreign Office selected for the difficult and dangerous

task of Envoy to Theodore, Mr. Hormuzd Bassam, Assistant Political

Resident at Aden; instructions were at the same time forwarded to that

gentleman to the effect that he should hold himself in readiness to proceed

to Massowah, and, if needful, to Abyssinia, with a view of obtaining the

release of Captain Cameron and other Europeans detained in captivity by

King Theodore. A letter from her Majesty the Queen of England, one from

the Coptic Patriarch of Alexandria for the Abouna, and one from the same

to King Theodore, were forwarded to Mr. Rassam, in order to facilitate his

mission. Mr. Rassam was to be conveyed to Massowah in a ship-of-war; he

was at once to inform Theodore of his arrival, bearing a letter to him from

the Queen of England, and also forward, by the same messenger, the letters

from the Patriarch to the Abouna and to the Emperor. He was to await a

reply at Massowah, before deciding whether he should proceed himself, or

forward the Queen's letter to Captain Cameron for delivery. The instructions

added that Mr. Rassam might, however, adopt any other course which might

appear to him more advisable; but he should take special care not to place

himself in a position that might cause further embarrassment to the British

Government.

It so happened that at the time Mr. Rassam received an intimation that he

was selected for the duty of conveying a letter from the Queen to the

Emperor of Abyssinia, I had gone with him on a visit to Lahej, a small Arab

town about twenty-five miles from Aden. We talked a great deal about that

strange land, and on my expressing my desire to accompany Mr. Rassam to

the Abyssinian Court, that gentleman proposed to Colonel Merewether, the

Political Resident at Aden, to allow me to go with him as his companion: a

request that Colonel Merewether immediately granted, and which was

shortly afterwards sanctioned by the Governor of Bombay and the Viceroy

of India.

We had to wait a few days, as the Queen's letter had been detained in Egypt,

in order to have it translated, and it was only on the 20th of July, 1864, that

Mr. Rassam and myself left Aden for Massowah in her Majesty's steamer

Dalhousie .

On the morning of the 23rd, at a distance of about thirty miles from the

shore, we sighted the high land of Abyssinia, formed of several consecutive

ranges, all running from N. to S., the more distant being also the highest;

some of the peaks, such as Taranta, ranging between 12,000 and 13,000

feet.

As the outline of the coast became more distinct, the sight of a small island

covered with white houses surrounded by green groves, reflecting their

welcome shadows in the quiet blue water of the bay, gave us a thrill of

delight; it seemed as if at last we had come to one of those enchanted spots

of the East, so often described, so seldom seen, and to the longing of our

anxious hearts the quick motion of the steamer seemed slow to satisfy our

ardent wishes. But nearer and nearer as we approached the shore, one by

one all our illusions disappeared; the pleasant imagery vanished, and the

stern reality of mangrove swamps, sandy and sunburnt beach, wretched and

squalid huts, stared us in the face. Instead of the semi-Paradise distance had

painted to our imagination, we found (and, alas! remained long enough to

verify the fact) that the land of our temporary residence could be described

in three words—sun, dirt, and desolation.

Massowah, latitude 15.36 N., longitude 39.30 E., is one of the many coral

islands that abound in the Red Sea; it is but a few feet above high-water

mark, about a mile in length, and a quarter in breadth. Towards the north it

is separated from the mainland by a narrow creek about 200 yards in

breadth, and is distant from Arkiko, a small town situated at the western

extremity of the bay, about two miles. Half-a-mile south of Massowah,

another small coral island, almost parallel to the one we describe, covered

with mangroves and other rank vegetation, the proud owner of a sheik's

tomb of great veneration, lies between Massowah and the Gedem peak, the

high mountain forming the southern boundary of the bay.

The western half of the island of Massowah is covered with houses: a few

two stories high, built of coral rock, the remainder small wooden huts with

straw roofs. The first are inhabited by the wealthier merchants and brokers,

the Turkish officials, and the few Banians, European consuls; and

merchants whose unfortunate fate has cast them on this inhospitable shore.

There is not a building worth mentioning: the Pasha's residence is a large,

ungainly mansion, remarkable only for its extreme filthiness. During our

stay the offensive smell from the accumulation of dirt on the yards and

staircases of the palace was quite overwhelming: it is easier to imagine than

to describe the abominable stench that pervaded the whole place. The few

mosques are without importance—miserable whitewashed coral buildings.

One, however, under construction promised to be a shade better than the

others.

[Illustration: Fort, Mission House and Town of Massowah]

The streets—if by this name we may call the narrow and irregular lanes that

run between the houses—are kept pretty clean; whether with or without

municipal intervention I cannot say. Except in front of the Pasha's

residence, there is no open space worthy of the name of square. The houses

are much crowded together, many even being half built over the sea on

piles. Land is of such value on this spot so little known, that reclamation

was at several points going on; though I do not suppose that shares and

dividends were either issued or promised.

The landing-place is near the centre of the island, opposite to the gates of

the town, which are regularly shut at eight P.M.; why, it is difficult to say, as

it is possible to land on any part of the island quite as easily, if not more so,

than on the greasy pier. On the landing-place a few huts have been erected

by the collector of customs and his subordinates; these, surrounded by the

brokers and tallow-scented Bedouins, register the imports, exacting such

duties as they like, before the merchandise is allowed to be purchased by

the Banians or conveyed to the bazaar for sale. This last-named place—the

sine qua non of all Eastern towns—is a wretched affair. Still, the Bedouin

beau, the Bashi-bazouk, the native girls, and the many flaneurs of the place,

must find some attractions in its precincts, for though redolent with effluvia

of the worst description, and swarming with flies, it is, during part of the

day, the rendezvous of a merry and jostling crowd.

The eastern half of the island contains the burial-ground, the water-tanks,

the Roman Catholic mission-house, and a small fort.

The burial-ground begins almost with the last houses, the boundary between

the living and the dead being merely nominal. To improve the closer

relationship between the two, the water-tanks are placed amongst the

graves! but there are but few tanks still in good condition. After heavy

showers, the surface drainage finds its way into the reservoirs, carrying with

it the detritus of all the accumulated filth of the last year or two, and adding

an infusion of human bodies, in all stages of decomposition. Still, the water

is highly prized, and, strange to say, seems to have no noxious effects, on

the drinkers. At the north and south points of this part of the island two

buildings have been erected—the one the emblem of good-will and peace;

the other, of war and strife—the mission-house and the fort. But it is

difficult to decide which of the two means the most mischief; many are

inclined to give the palm to the worthy fathers' abode. The fort appears

formidable, but only at a great distance; on near approach it is found to be

but a relic of former ages, a crumbled-down ruin, too weak to bear any

longer its three old rusty guns now lying on the ground: it is the terror, not

of the neighbourhood, but of the unfortunate gunner, who has already lost

an arm whilst endeavouring to return a salute through their honeycombed

tubes. On the other hand, the mission-house, garbed in immaculate

whiteness, smiles radiantly around, inviting instead of repulsing the invader.

But within, are they always words of love that fill the echoes of the dome?

Is peace the only sound that issues from its walls? Though the past speaks

volumes, and though the history of the Roman Church is written in letters

of blood all over the Abyssinian land, let us hope that the fears of the

people have no foundation, and that the missionaries here, like all Christian

missionaries, only strive to promote one object—the cause of Christ.

Massowah, as well as the immediate surrounding country, is mainly

dependent on Abyssinia for its supplies. Jowaree is the staple food; wheat is

little used; rice is a favourite amongst the better classes. Goats and sheep

are killed daily in the bazaar, cows on rare occasions; but the flesh of the

camel is the most esteemed, though, on account of the expense, rarely

indulged in except on great occasions.

The inhabitants being Mussulmans, water is the ordinary beverage; tej and

araki (made from honey) can, however, be purchased in the bazaar. The

limited supply of water obtained from the few remaining tanks is quite

inadequate to meet the wants of even a small portion of the community;

water is consequently brought in daily from the wells a few miles north of

Massowah, and from Arkiko. The first is brought in leather bags by the

young girls of the village; the latter conveyed in boats across the bay. The

water in both cases is brackish, that from Arkiko highly so. For this reason,

and also on account of the greater facility in the transport, it is cheaper, and

is purchased only by the poorer inhabitants.

To avoid useless repetitions, before speaking of the population, climate,

diseases, &c., a short account of the immediate neighbourhood is necessary.

About four miles north of Massowah is Haitoomloo, a large village of about

a thousand huts, the first place where we meet with sweet water; a mile and

a quarter further inland we came upon Moncullou, a smaller but better built

village. A mile westward of the last place we find the small village of Zaga.

These, with a small hamlet east of Haitoomloo, constitute all the inhabited

portions of this sterile region. The next village, Ailat, about twenty miles

from Massowah, is built on the first terrace of the Abyssinian range, 600

feet above the level of the sea. All these villages are situated in the midst of

a sandy and desolate plain; a few mimosas, aloes, senna plants, and cactuses

struggle for life in the burning sand. The country residences of the English

and French consuls shine like oases in this desert, great pains having been

taken to introduce trees that thrive even in such a locality.

[Illustration: Grove House at Moncullou.]

The wells are the wealth of the villages—their very existence. Most

probably, huts after huts have been erected in their vicinity until the actual

prosperous villages have arisen, surrounded as they are on all sides by a

burnt and desert tract. The wells number about twenty. Many old ones are

closed, but new ones are frequently dug, so as to keep up a constant supply

of water. The reason old wells are abandoned is, that after a while the water

becomes very brackish. In a new well the water is almost sweet. The water

obtained from these wells proceeds from two different sources: First, from

the high mountains in the vicinity. The rain filters and impregnates the soil,

but not being able to soak beyond a certain depth, on account of the

volcanic rocks of the undersoil, forms a small stratum always met with at a

certain depth. Secondly, from the sea by filtration. The wells, though about

four miles from the shore, are only from twenty to twenty-five feet deep,

and consequently on or below the level of the sea.

The proof of an undercurrent of water, due to the presence of the high range

of mountains, becomes more apparent as the traveller advances into the

interior; though the soil is still sandy and barren, and little vegetation can as

yet be seen, trees and shrubs become more plentiful, and of a larger size. A

few miles farther inland, even during the summer months, it is always

possible to obtain water by digging to the depth of a few feet in the dried-up

bed of a water-torrent.

It often struck me that what artesian wells have done for the Sahara they

could equally accomplish for this region. The locality seems even more

favourable, and there is every hope that, like the great African desert, the

now desolate land of Samhar could be transformed into a rich date-bearing

land.

Taken as they are; these wells could certainly be improved. On our arrival at

Moncullou, we found the water of the well belonging to the consular

residence scarcely used, on account of its very brackish taste; we had the

well emptied, a large quantity of saltish sand removed, and we dug deeper

until large rocks appeared. The result was that we had the best well in the

place, and requests for our water were made by many, including the Pasha

himself. Unfortunately, the forefathers of the present Moncullites never did

such a thing to their wells, and as all innovations are distasteful to a semicivilized race, the fact was admired, but not imitated.

Arkiko, at the extremity of the bay, is much nearer the mountains than the

villages situated north of Massowah, but the village is built almost on the

beach itself; the wells, not a hundred yards from the sea, are also much

more superficial than those on the northern side, consequently the seawater, having a much shorter distance to filter through, retains a greater

proportion of saline particles, and I believe, were, it not for the presence of

a small quantity of sweet water from the hills, it would be quite unpalatable.

In the neighbourhood of Maasowah there are several hot mineral springs.

The most important are those of Adulis and Ailat. In the summer of 1865

we made a short trip to Annesley Bay, to inspect the locality. The ruins of

Adulis are several miles from the shore, and, with the exception of a few

fragments of broken columns, contain no traces of the former important

colony. The place was even hotter than Massowah; there was no vegetation,

no trace of habitations on that desolate shore. Fancy our surprise, on

reaching the same spot in May, 1868, to find piers, railways, bazaars, &c.—

a bustling city had sprung out of the wilderness.

The springs of Adulis [Footnote: A short time before our departure for the

interior, some of the water of the hot springs of Adulis was collected and

forwarded to Bombay for analysis.] are only a few hundred yards from the

sea-shore, surrounded by a pleasing green patch covered with a vigorous

vegetation, the rendezvous of myriads of birds and quadrupeds, who,

morning and evening, swarm thither to quench their thirst.

At Ailat [Footnote: Water collected and sent to Bombay, November, 1864.]

the hot spring issues from basaltic rocks on a small plateau between high

and precipitous mountains. At the source itself the temperature is 141

Fahrenheit, but as the water flows down the different ravines, it gradually

cools until it differs in no way from other mountain streams. It is palatable,

and used by the inhabitants of Ailat for all purposes: it is also highly

esteemed by the Bedouins. On account of its medicinal properties, numbers

resort to the natural baths, formed of hollowed volcanic roots, for the relief

of every variety of disease. From what I could gather, it appears to prove

beneficial in chronic rheumatism and in diseases of the skin. Probably in

these cases any warm water would act as well, considering the usual morbid

condition of the integument in those dirty and unwashed races.

The population of Massowah, including the surrounding villages (as far, at

least, as I could ascertain), amounts to 10,000 inhabitants. The Massowah

race is far from pure; being a mixture of Turkish, Arab, and African blood.

The features are generally good, the nose straight, the hair in many

instances short and curly; the skin brown, the lips often large, the teeth even

and white. The men are of the middle height; the women under it. So much

for their physical appearance. Morally they are ignorant and superstitious,

having apparently retained but few of their forefathers' virtues, but a great

many of their vices. A very good distinction can be made, in the male

portion of the community, between those who wear turbans and long white

shirts, and those hard-working wretches who, girded with a single leather

skin, roam about with their flocks in search of pasture and water. The first

live I know not how. They call themselves brokers! It is true that three or

four times a year caravans arrive from the interior, but as a rule, with the

exception of a skin or two of honey, and a few bags of jowaree, nothing is

imported. What possible business can about 500 brokers have? How ten

dollars' worth of honey and fifty of grain can give a brokerage sufficient to

clothe and feed, not only themselves but also their families, is a problem I

have in vain endeavoured to solve!

In the East, children, instead of being a burden to poor people, are often a

source of wealth: at Massowah they certainly are. The young girls of

Moncullou, &c., bring in a pretty good income to their parents. I know big,

strong, but lazy fellows who would squat down all day in the shade of their

huts, living on the earnings of two or three little girls, who daily went once

or twice to Massowah laden with a large skin full of water. The water-girls

vary in age from eight to sixteen. The younger ones are rather pretty, small,

but well made, the hair neatly braided and falling on the shoulders. A small

piece of cotton reaching from the waist to the knee is generally the only

garment of the poorest. Those better off wear also a piece of plaid thrown

gracefully across the shoulders. The right nostril is ornamented with a small

copper ring; as a substitute, a shirt-button is much esteemed, and during our

stay our buttons were in constant demand.

If we take into consideration that Massowah is situated within the tropics,

possessing no running stream, that it is surrounded by burning deserts, and

that rain seldom falls, the conclusion we could beforehand have arrived at

is, that the climate is essentially hot and dry.

From November to March the nights are cool, and during that period the

day, in a good house or tent, is pleasant enough. From April to October the

nights are close, and often very oppressive. During those hot months, both

in the morning before the sea-breeze springs up and in the evening when it

has died away, all animal creation falls into a torpid state. The perfect calm

that then reigns is fearful in its stillness and painful in its effects.

From May to August sand-storms frequently occur. They begin usually at

four P.M. (though occasionally they appear in the morning), and last from a

few minutes only to a couple of hours. Long before the storm is felt, the

horizon towards the N.N.W. is quite dark; a black cloud extends from the

sea to the mountain range, and as it advances the sun itself is obscured. A

few minutes of dead calm, and then suddenly the dark column approaches;

all seems to disappear before it, and the roar of the terrible hurricane of

wind and sand now coursing over the land is almost sublime in its horrors.

Coming after the moist sea breeze, the hot and dry wind appears quite cool,

though the thermometer rises to 110 or 115 degrees. After the storm a gentle

land breeze follows, and often lasts all night. The amount of sand carried by

the wind in these storms can be imagined by the mere mention of the fact

that we could not discern, at a short distance from us, such a large object as

a tent.

It seldom rains; occasionally there are a few showers in August and

November.

As far as Europeans are concerned, climates like the one we have just

described cannot be considered as unhealthy; they debilitate and weaken the

system, and predispose to tropical diseases, but seldom engender them. I

expected to find many cases of scurvy, due to the brackish condition of the

water and to the absence of vegetables; but either scurvy did not exist to a

great extent or did not come under my observation, as during my stay I did

not meet with more than three or four cases. Fevers affect the natives after a

fall of rain, but though some cases are of a very pernicious type, the

majority belong to the simple intermittent or remittent, and yield rapidly to

a proper treatment.

Small-pox now and then makes fearful ravages. When it breaks out, a mild

case is chosen, and from it a great many are inoculated. The mortality is

considerable amongst those who submit to the operation. On several

occasions during the summer I received vaccine lymph, and inoculated with

it. In no case did it take; owing, I suppose, to the extreme heat of the

weather. During, the cold season I applied again, but could not obtain any.

The greatest mortality is due to childbirth—a strange fact, as in the East

confinements are generally easy. The practice in use here has probably

much to do with this unfavourable result. After her confinement the woman

is placed upon an alga or small native bed; underneath which, fire with

aromatic herbs is so arranged as almost to suffocate the newly-delivered

woman. Diarrhoea was frequent during the summer of 1865, and dysentery

at the same period proved fatal to many. Diseases of the eyes are seldom

met with, except simple inflammation caused by the heat and glare of the

sun. I suffered from a severe attack of ophthalmia, and was obliged in

consequence to proceed to Aden for a few weeks. I have met with no case

of disease of the lungs, and bronchial affections seem almost unknown. I

had occasion to attend upon cases of neuralgia, and one of gouty

rheumatism.

For several years locusts have been committing great damage to the crops.

In 1864 they occasioned a scarcity and dearness of the first necessaries of

life, but in 1865 the whole of Tigré, Hamasein, Bogos, &c. had been laid

waste by swarms of locusts, and at last no supplies whatever reached from

the interior. The local Government sent to Hodeida and other ports for

grain, and rice, and thus avoided the horrors of a complete famine. As it

was, numbers died, and many half-starved wretches were ready victims for

such a disease as cholera. This last-named scourge made its appearance in

October, 1865, at the time we were making our preparations to proceed into

the interior. The epidemic was severely felt. All those who had been

suffering from the effects of insufficient or inferior food became an easy

prey; few, indeed, of those who contracted the disease rallied; almost all

died. During our residence at Massowah, out of the small community of

Europeans five died, two from heat apoplexy, two from debility, and one

from cholera. (None came under my care.) The Pasha himself was several

times on the point of death, from debility and complete loss of tone of the

digestive organs. He was at last prevailed upon to leave, and saved his life

by a timely trip to sea.

The Bedouins of the Samhar, like all bigoted and ignorant savages, have

great confidence in charms, amulets and exorcisms. The "medicine man" is

generally an old, venerable-looking Sheik—a great rascal, for all his

sanctified looks. His most usual prescription is to write a few lines of the

Koran upon a piece of parchment, wash off the ink with water, and hand it

over to the patient to drink; at other times the writing is enclosed in small

squares of red leather, and applied to the seat of the disease. The Mullah is

no contemptible rival of his, and though he also applies the all-efficacious

words of the revealed "cow," he effects more rapid cures by spitting several

times upon the sick person, muttering between each ejection appropriate

prayers which no evil spirit could withstand, should his already sanctified

spittle not have been sufficient to cast them off. Massowah boasts,

moreover, of a regular medical practitioner, in the shape of an old Bashibazouk. Though superior in intelligence to the Sheik and the Mullah, his

medical knowledge is on a par with theirs. He possesses a few drugs, given

to him by travellers; but as he is not acquainted with their properties or

doses, he wisely keeps them on a shelf for the admiration of the natives, and

employs simples, with which, if he effects no wonderful cures, he still does

no harm. Our confère is not at all conceited, though he no doubt imposes

upon the credulity of the aborigines; when we met in "consultation," he

always, with becoming meekness, acknowledged his ignorance.

Massowah, as I have already stated, is built on a coral rock; the same

formation exists on many parts of the coast, and forms cliffs, some of them

thirty feet above the level of the sea. Further inland, towards Moncullou and

Haitoomloo, volcanic rocks begin to appear, scattered here and there as if

carelessly thrown on the sandy plain; at first isolated landmarts over the

level space, they soon become more united, increasing in number, size, and

importance, until the mountains themselves are reached, where almost

every stone declares the predominance of the volcanic formation.

The flora is scanty, and belongs, with but few exceptions, to the

Leguminosae . Several varieties of antelopes roam over the desert.

Partridges, pigeons, and several species of the Natatores at certain seasons,

arrive in great numbers. Apart from these, nothing useful to man is met with

amongst the other members of the animal creation, consisting principally of

hosts of hyenas, snakes, scorpions, and innumerable insects.

We remained at Massowah from the 23rd of July, 1864, to the 8th of

August, 1865, the date of our departure for Egypt, where we went in order

to receive instructions, when a letter at last reached us from the Emperor

Theodore. Massowah offered no attractions: the heat was so intense at times

that we could hardly breathe; and we ardently longed for our return to Aden

or India, as we had given up all hopes regarding the acceptance of our

mission by the Abyssinian Emperor. No pains were spared, no stone was

left unturned, no possible chance left untried to obtain information as to the

condition of the captives, to supply them with the necessaries of life, or

induce the obstinate potentate to call for the letter it was said he was so

anxious to receive. The very day of our arrival at Massowah, efforts were

made to engage messengers to proceed to the Abyssinian court and inform

his Ethiopian Majesty that officers had arrived at the coast with the answer

to his letter to the Queen of England. But such was the dread of his name,

that it was with great difficulty, and only on the promise of a large reward,

that any could be obtained. On the evening of the 24th, the day after our

arrival, the messengers were despatched with the letters to the Abouna and

the Emperor from the Patriarch, one from Mr. Rassam to the Abouna, and

one to the Emperor, the messengers promising to be back in the course of a

month or so.