The March to Magdala

I describe thus minutely the events of every day, because the life of most officers and men greatly resembles my own, and by relating my own experience I give a far more accurate idea of the sort of life we are leading in Abyssinia than I could do by any general statements.

Upper Sooro is a large commissariat dépôt, exceedingly well managed by Conductor Crow. It is a new basin of five hundred yards long by two hundred across, a widening out of the pass. It is selected for that reason, as it is the only place along the line near water where a regiment could encamp. Owing to its elevation above the sea the temperature is very pleasant, except for two or three hours in the middle of the day. Another agreeable change is that the thorny bushes have disappeared, and a tree without prickles, and which attains a considerable size, has taken their place.

At seven o’clock this morning the Beloochees began to arrive, having started at midnight. The advanced guard were therefore exactly the same time doing the distance that we were. Their baggage, however, has been dropping in all day, for it was loaded on camels, and most of these animals stuck fast in the narrow passages of the pass, and had to be unloaded to enable them to get through; and this happened again and again. The pass, in fact, is not, as yet, practicable for camels; mules can manage it, but it is a very close fit for them, and it will be some time yet before camels can pass with their burdens. I suppose after to-day’s experience camels will not be again employed this side of Koomaylo until the pass has been widened. Some of the poor animals were stuck fast for a couple of hours before they could be extricated. There are now a hundred of them lying down within fifty yards of my tent. I consider the camel to be the most ridiculously-overpraised animal under the sun. I do not deny that he has his virtues. He is moderately strong – not very strong for his size, for he will not carry so much as a couple of good mules; still he is fairly strong, and he can go a long time without water – a very useful quality in the desert, or on the sea-shore of Abyssinia. But patient! Heaven save the mark! He is without exception the most cantankerous animal under the sun. When he is wanted to stand up, he lies down; when he is wanted to lie down, he will not do it on any consideration; and once down he jumps up again the moment his driver’s back is turned. He grumbles, and growls, and roars at any order he receives, whether to stand up or lie down; whether to be loaded or to have his packs taken off. When he is once loaded and in motion he goes on quietly enough; but so does a horse, or a donkey, or any other animal. After having made himself as disagreeable as possible, there is small praise to him that he goes on when he cannot help it. I consider the mule, which people have most wrongfully named obstinate, to be a superior animal in every respect – except that he wants his drink – to the much-bepraised camel.

A messenger passed through here yesterday from Abyssinia. He was bringing letters from Mr. Rassam to Colonel Merewether. He reports that Theodore is continuing his cruelties, and killing his soldiers in numbers. Under these circumstances one can hardly feel surprised at the news that, in spite of his efforts, he is unable to increase his army beyond seven or eight thousand men. He is still at Debra Tabor.

    Camp, Senafe, December 16th.

I arrived here only half-an-hour since, and find that the post is on the point of starting. I therefore have only time to write a few lines to supplement my last letter, which was sent from Sooro. All description of the pass between that resting-place and Senafe I must postpone to my next letter, and only write to say that there is no particular news here. The messenger from Mr. Rassam arrived in the camp yesterday. He states that the King of Shoa’s men are between Theodore and Magdala, and that there is every hope that they will take the latter place, and liberate the prisoners. The reports about the King of Tigré are, to a certain extent, founded on fact. He has professed the greatest friendship, but there are sinister reports that he really means mischief, and for two or three days the pickets have been doubled. It is not thought that there is any foundation for the report of his intention to attack us. The situation of this camp is very pleasant – upon a lofty table-land, seven thousand feet above the sea, and with a delightfully bracing wind blowing over it, and reminding one of Brighton Downs in the month of May. At night I am told that the thermometer goes down below freezing-point. The camp is situated in a slight hollow or valley in the plain; through its centre flows a stream, which when the camp was first formed was knee-deep, but has greatly fallen off since, so much so that reservoirs are being formed and wells sunk in case the supply should cease. Short as the time is before the post goes, I might have sent you more intelligence were it not that Colonels Merewether and Phayre are both absent upon some expedition in the surrounding country, and I am therefore unable to draw any news from any official source. The health of everyone up here is excellent, and the horses are suffering less from the disease which has almost decimated them in the lower ground. There are plenty of cattle brought in for sale, but unfortunately the authorities have no money to buy them with.

    Senafe, December 19th.

I wrote a few lines, upon my arrival here two days ago; but as the post was upon the point of starting, I could not do more than state that the rumours which had reached us down below respecting the King of Tigré were untrue, and that that monarch was at present pursuing a course of masterly inactivity. I will now, therefore, resume my letter at the point where my last regular communication ended – namely, at the station of Sooro, in the pass leading to this place. I do not apologise for making my description of this pass very detailed, for at present the whole interest of the expedition centres in the passage of the troops and baggage from Zulla to this point, and I feel sure that any particulars which may enable the public to picture to themselves the country through which our soldiers are marching will be read with keen interest. From Sooro to Rayray Guddy, the next regular station, is, according to the official report, twenty-eight miles; but I am convinced, and in this opinion I am borne out by every officer I have spoken to, that thirty-three would be much nearer the fact. Indeed, in every march up here the official distances are a good deal under the truth. But, indeed, the officers of the exploring force appear to have seen everything through rose-coloured spectacles. At Zulla they reported plenty of water, and they found, a short way further, an abundance of forage, which no one else has been able to discover before or since. It was on the strength of these reports of forage and water that the baggage-animals were hurried forward. I am not blaming the officers who made the reports. They simply acted as it is the nature of explorers to act. Every father thinks his own child a prodigy. Every discoverer believes that the country, or river, or lake which he has been the first to report on, is a country, river, or lake such as no man ever saw before. Over and over again this has happened, and disastrous consequences have ere now arisen from the persistent use by explorers of these rose-coloured spectacles. It is not more than four or five years – to give one example out of a thousand – since Dr. Livingstone reported that he had discovered a magnificent navigable river in Eastern Africa, with rice, cotton, and corn abounding upon its banks, and a climate beyond reproach. In consequence of this report the “Universities Mission” was organised, and a band of missionaries, headed by their bishop, Mackenzie, started. After months of struggle they arrived at the place of disembarkation, having already discovered that their noble stream was, at a good average time of year, about three feet deep. There they set up their mission; there, one by one, these noble fellows died of want and of fever, victims of an explorer’s rose-coloured spectacles. After that we must not grudge the few hundred mules that have fallen a sacrifice to the want of springs and forage which could be seen only through the glasses of the chiefs of the exploring party.

From Sooro to Rayray Guddy is too far a march to be made in one day along such a road as there is at present, and accordingly it is generally broken at a spot called Guinea-fowl Plain, where there is a well yielding a small supply of water, the colour of pea-soup. We had had quite sufficient of night-marching previously, and, having passed one day at Sooro, we started at ten o’clock the following morning. We had intended to have started an hour earlier; but making a start here is a very different thing from sending for a cab at an appointed time to catch a train. In the first place there are the trunks, which have been opened the night before, to close; there is the tent to strike and pack up. Then at the last moment you discover that your servants have not washed up the breakfast-things, and that your mule-wallah has not yet taken his animals to water. At last, when all is ready, comes the important operation of loading the four baggage-animals. Each load has to be adjusted with the nicest precision, or the very first piece of rough ground you arrive at, round goes the saddle, and your belongings come to the ground with a crash. With our two mules we have the “Otago saddle,” which is excellent. Indeed, in the opinion of almost everyone here, it is by far the best of the rival saddles. Upon these saddles we pack our own baggage, and once fairly adjusted this is pretty safe for the day. Not so the other animals, for which we have common mule-saddles. Upon these is piled a multifarious collection of bundles. Our servants’ five kits, our animals’ rugs and ropes, our tents, two sacks containing cooking-utensils and numerous etceteras, and a water-skin for use upon the road. The actual weight that these animals have to carry is not so great as that borne by the others; but the trouble of adjusting and fastening on is at least ten times as great. The loads have frequently to be taken off three or four times, and then when we think all is right, and get fairly into motion, we have not gone twenty yards before there is a gradual descending motion observed on one side of an animal, and a corresponding rise of the opposite burden, and we are obliged to stop and readjust everything, or in another minute or two the whole would have toppled over. These things ruffle the temper somewhat, and our equanimity is not improved by the intense stupidity which our native servants always manifest upon these occasions. They seem to have no eye. They heap bundles on the side which was before palpably the heaviest; they twist cords where cords can be of no earthly use: altogether they are horribly aggravating. However, by this time I am getting accustomed to these things, and take matters into my own hands, and insist on things being done exactly as I direct them. At ten o’clock, then, we were fairly off, and I do not know that I ever rode through a more monotonous valley than that between Sooro and Guinea-fowl Plain. It was the counterpart of that I described in my last letter as extending between Koomaylo and Lower Sooro. A dead flat of two or three hundred yards across, with the torrent’s bed winding across it, and spur after spur of mountain turning it every quarter of a mile. Some of the mountain views which we saw up the ravines were certainly very fine, but it became monotonous in the extreme after six hours’ march at the rate of little over two miles an hour. The vegetation, however, had changed since the preceding day. The thorny bush no longer covered everything, but a variety of shrubs now bordered the path, and the diversity of their foliage was a relief to the eye. Immense quantities of locusts were everywhere met with, making the ground yellow where they lay, and rising with a rustling noise, which was very discomposing to the horses at our approach. They did not eat all the shrubs, but the species upon which they fed were absolutely covered with them, and most of their favourite plants were stripped completely bare. Monkeys, or rather baboons, still abounded: we saw numerous large troops of them, which must have been over a hundred strong. It was about five o’clock when we reached Guinea-fowl Plain, which may have guinea-fowls, although we saw none; but which is most certainly not a plain, for at the place where the well is the valley is narrower than it had been for miles previously. Here we found some really large trees, and under them we pitched our tent. It was not long before our servants had fires lighted and dinner in a forward state. There were two or three other parties who had arrived before us, and, as it got dusk, all lighted fires; and, as each party, with their cooking and grooms’ fires, had at least three bonfires going, it made quite a picturesque scene. The night was raw and cold, and we had a few drops of rain. It was fortunate that we had brought water with us for cooking purposes, for the water in the well was perfectly undrinkable.

The next morning we were again off early for our longest journey, that on to Rayray Guddy, where food would be procurable for horse and man, neither one nor the other being obtainable at Guinea-fowl Plain, where there is no commissariat station. We had carried our own food, and a small portion of grain for the horses; but they would have fared very badly had we not met some natives in the pass with a bundle of hay, and done a little barter with them for rice. The valley for the first twelve or fourteen miles from Guinea-fowl Plain greatly resembled in its general features that we had passed the day previously, but the vegetation became more varied and interesting every mile. We now had great trees of ivy, we had the evergreen oak, and occasionally gigantic tulip-trees. We had great numbers of a tree, or rather large shrub, of the name of which I am ignorant; its leaves more resembled the sprays of the asparagus when it has run far to seed than any other foliage I know, but the growth of the shrub was more like a yew. Upon its branches were vast quantities of a parasite resembling the mistletoe, whose dark-green leaves afforded a fine contrast to the rather bluish tint of the tree. Climbing everywhere over the trees, and sometimes almost hiding them, were creepers of various kinds; on the ground grew vast quantities of the aloe. There were, too, numerous cacti of various kinds, some thick and bulky, others no thicker than a lady’s little finger, and growing like a creeper over the trees. But, strangest of all, upon the hill-sides grew an immense plant, or rather tree, of the cactus tribe, which I had never seen before. It started by a straight stem fifteen or twenty feet high, and thicker than a man’s body. This branched out into a great number of arms, which all grew upwards, and to just the same height, giving it a strange and formal appearance, exactly resembling a gigantic cauliflower. I believe its name is Euphorbia candalabriensis, but do not at all vouch for this. Some of the mountain slopes were quite covered with this strange tree, but as a general thing it grew singly or in pairs. The tulip-trees were superb; they grew generally in rocky places, and with their huge twisted trunks, and glossy green leaves, and limbs more than a hundred feet long, they were studies for a painter.

At about three miles from Rayray Guddy the valley narrowed to a ravine, and we came upon running water. The pass from here to the station is steep and difficult, but nothing to that at Sooro. Having drawn our rations, and received the unwelcome intelligence that there was no hay, and only the scantiest possible amount of grain for our animals, we established our camp and went up to look at the land transport division, about a quarter of a mile higher up the valley. There were four or five hundred mules and ponies here, in good order, but hardly good condition; in fact, the work has been hard and forage scant. How hard the work has been, our journey of the two preceding days had testified. All along the line of march we had come across the carcasses of dead animals, from which great vultures rose lazily at our approach. As we approached Rayray Guddy the remains of the victims occurred much more frequently, and the air was everywhere impregnated with the fœtid odour. This was only to be expected, as the poor animals had been obliged to endeavour to accomplish the march of thirty miles from Sooro without food, and in most cases without water. No time should be lost in forming a small commissariat dépôt at Guinea-fowl Plain, where a ration of hay and grain could be served out to the animals as they pass through. The work these baggage-animals have to go through is extremely severe, and their half-starved appearance testifies that they have not sufficient food served out to them, and to expect them to do two days’ work on their one day’s scanty rations is a little too much even from mules. We found our friends who had started before us from Guinea-fowl Plain encamped up there with Captain Mortimer of the transport train. It was proposed that we should throw in our mess with them. We accordingly returned to our own encampment, took our meat and rum, our plates and knives and forks, and marched back again. In an hour dinner was ready, and in the mean time I was glad of an opportunity of inquiring how this advanced division of the transport train had got on. I found that they had, like the one down at Zulla, had the greatest trouble with their drivers. The officer complained bitterly of the class of men who had been sent out – Greeks, Italians, Frenchmen, Spaniards, the mere sweepings of Alexandria, Cairo, Beyrout, and Smyrna. The Hindoo drivers, he said, upon the whole, worked steadily, and were more reliable than the others, but were greatly wanting in physical strength. The Persians, on the contrary, were very strong and powerful men, and could load three mules while a Hindoo could load one; but they had at first given very great trouble, had mutinied and threatened to desert in a body, but, upon the application of the lash to two or three of the ringleaders, things had gone on more smoothly. The Arab drivers had almost all deserted. Even up here the mules still suffer from the disease which prevailed down upon the plain, and which carried off a hundred horses of the 3d Native Cavalry. It is very sudden in its action, and is in nearly every case fatal. The animals seem seized with some internal pain, arch their backs, and become rigid. In a short time the tongue grows black, a discharge takes place from the nostrils, and in a few hours, sometimes not more than one, from the time he is attacked, the animal is dead. At present, as with our cattle-disease, all remedies are ineffectual. Animals in good condition are more liable to be attacked than are the poorer ones. After dinner we returned to our tent, where, however, we did not pass a remarkably-pleasant night. In the first place, it was bitterly cold – the temperature of Rayray Guddy is indeed colder than it is here; and in the second, a mule had broken loose from its head-ropes, and came down to our encampment. Five or six times it nearly upset our tent by tumbling over the tent-ropes, in addition to which it made our horses so savage by going up among them, that we were afraid of their breaking loose. Four or five times, therefore, did we have to get up and go out in the cold to drive the beast away with stones. The grooms were sleeping at their horses’ heads, but were so wrapped up in their rugs that they heard nothing of it. The next morning it was so cold that we were really glad to be up and moving, and were on our way at a little before eight. The first six miles of the road is narrow and winding, and is as lovely a road as I ever passed. With the exception only of the narrow pathway, the gorge was one mass of foliage. In addition to all the plants I have mentioned as occurring below, we had now the wild fig, the laburnum, various sorts of acacia, and many others, One plant in particular, I believe a species of acacia, was in seed; the seed-pods were a reddish-brown, but were very thin and transparent, and when the sun shone upon them were of the colour of the clearest carmine. As these shrubs were in great abundance, and completely covered with seed-pods, their appearance was very brilliant. Among all these plants fluttered numerous humming-birds of the most lovely colours. Other birds of larger size and gorgeous plumage perched among the trees at a short distance from the path. Brilliant butterflies flitted here and there among the flowers.

At last we came to an end of this charming ride, and prepared for a work of a very different nature. We turned from the ravine which we had now followed for sixty miles, and prepared boldly to ascend the hill-side. As soon as we left the ravine all the semi-tropical vegetation was at an end; we were climbing a steep hill covered with boulders, between which stunted pines thrust their gnarled branches and dark foliage. We had gone at one leap from a tropical ravine to a highland mountain-side. The ascent was, I should say, at the least a thousand feet, and a worse thousand-feet climb I never had before and never wish to have again. It is a mere track which zigzags up among the rocks and trees, and which was made by the 10th Native Infantry and the Sappers, as the pioneer force rested below and had breakfast. The men effected marvels considering that it was the work of two hours only; but it is at best a mere track. Sometimes the mules mount a place as steep as a flight of stairs; then they have to step over a rock three feet high. In fact, it is one long struggle up to the top, and in no place wide enough for two mules to pass. One mule falling puts a stop to a whole train, and this was exemplified in our case, for we were following a long line of mules when they suddenly came to a stop. For half-an-hour we waited patiently, and then, climbing up the rocks and through the trees at the side of the stationary mules, we finally came to the cause of detention – one of the mules had fallen. The drivers had taken no efforts to remove his pack or his saddle, but were sitting by his side quietly smoking their pipes. After a little strong language we took off his saddle, got things right, and the train proceeded again. This is the great want of the transport corps – a strong body of inspectors, as they are called, volunteers from European regiments. There ought to be one of these to every ten or fifteen drivers, who, as in the present case, if not looked after by a European, will shirk work in every possible way. But this is a subject upon which I shall have much more to say at a future time. This road or path is really not practicable for the passage of mules, for, although singly they can go up well enough, if one party going up were to meet another going down, it is probable that, if no European came up to make one party or other retrace their steps, they would remain there until the last animal died of starvation. Three companies of the Beloochee regiment arrived yesterday at the bottom of the hill, and have set to work to widen and improve it; and as a party of sappers and miners have begun to work downwards from the top, the road will soon be made passable. For this hill-side is not like the pass of Sooro, which would require an incredible amount of labour to render it a decent road. There are no natural obstacles here beyond trees to be cut down and stones to be rolled away; so that by the time the main body of the army arrives I have no doubt that they will find a fair road up to the plateau.

    Senafe, December 20th.

I closed my letter in great haste yesterday afternoon, for the authorities suddenly arrived at the conclusion that it was the last day for the English mail. I was obliged to break off abruptly in my description of the road, being at the point where we had just arrived upon the plateau. Looking backwards, we could see peak after peak extending behind us, which when we had been winding among their bases had looked so high above us, but which now were little above the level of the spot where we were standing. A few of the peaks around us might have been a thousand or fifteen hundred feet higher than the plateau, and we were standing nearly on the summit of that high range of hills we had seen from the sea. We are now seven thousand four hundred feet above Zulla, and by my description of the pass it will be seen that it is no child’s-play to attain this height. It is not that the ascent is so steep; on the contrary, taking the distance at seventy miles, the rise is only one in a hundred, an easy gradient for a railway; but more than half the rise takes place in three short steep ascents, namely, the Sooro pass, a rise of one thousand five hundred feet in four miles; the Rayray Guddy pass, a rise of one thousand feet in three miles; and the last climb on to the plateau, a rise of one thousand five hundred feet in two miles. Thus four thousand feet, or more than half the rise, takes place in nine miles, and over the remaining distance the rise is only one foot in every two hundred. The difficulties of the journey are the general roughness of the road, the long distances the animals have to go without water, and the ascent of the Sooro pass, for there is no doubt that the final rise to the plateau will soon be made a good road by the exertions of the Beloochees and Sappers. Turning our horses’ heads we proceeded onward. The change to an open plain and a fresh wind in place of the long valley and oppressive stillness was charming. One would have thought oneself on the top of a Welsh hill. The ground was a black peaty soil, with a short dried-up grass. Here and there were small patches of cultivated ground, and clumps of rock cropped up everywhere. Looking forward, we could see that the general character of the ground was that of a plain; but enormous masses of rock, of seven or eight hundred feet in height, rose perpendicularly in fantastic shapes sheer up from the plain. Here and there were ranges of mountains, some of considerable altitude. Far in the distance we could see hills rising between hills, but never attaining any great height. Everywhere over the plain were little groups of cattle and sheep grazing. We were evidently in a thickly-populated country.

After about two miles’ ride we turned the corner of a slight rise, and there before us lay the camp. It is prettily situated on the side of a little valley, and faces the north. The 10th Native Infantry are encamped on the right wing; the Mountain Train occupy the centre; and the 3d Cavalry camp lies on the left. Behind the rise a plain stretches away, and upon this the troops will be encamped as they arrive. The soil of the valley-side and of the plain beyond is a mere sand, covered with grass and bushes, but in the hollow of the valley, where the stream runs, or rather used to run, it is a deep black peat. Wells are now being sunk in this peat, and these rapidly fill with water. There are still deep pools where the stream formerly ran, and dams have been formed, which will keep back a considerable supply of water. The troops are not, therefore, likely to fall short for some time, and if they should, there is plenty at a stream two or three miles farther on. The health of the troops is pretty good, but both officers and men are subject to slight attacks of fever, much more so than they were when encamped on the plain by the sea. This is singular, for except that the nights are rather cold, this feels the very perfection of climate. The horses and mules are doing much better up here, and although some died at first, it is probable that they had brought the seeds of the disease with them from the pass below. As it is, the cavalry have suffered terribly. The 5th Cavalry, out of five hundred horses, have lost one hundred and seventy, and the officers’ horses of the infantry and Mountain Train have been nearly exterminated.

Things are very tranquil here. The King of Tigré, after first being friendly, and then blustering a little, has just at present, influenced probably by the reports of the increasing force of the expedition, determined upon the prudent policy of friendship, at any rate until he sees a better opportunity of plunder than he does at present. Yesterday afternoon an ambassador arrived from him, saying magnanimously, “Why should we not be friends? My foes are your foes; my interests your interests. Take therefore my forage, and my blessing.” Colonel Merewether is greatly delighted at this message, and sees, through those rose-coloured spectacles of his, an early end to the expedition. Everyone else is perfectly indifferent. The King of Tigré’s army of 7000 men could be scattered like chaff by a battalion of Europeans; and if he ever sees a chance of falling upon our rear, it is more than probable that his friendly professions will go for nothing. I do not think that the smallest reliance can be placed in the friendship of these semi-savage chiefs.

We gave his ambassador a lesson this morning, which will, I have no doubt, have its effect. It was a brigade field-day, and Colonel Merewether took the ambassador out to witness it. It is a great pity that the artillery and the infantry had not a few rounds of blank cartridge, which would have given his ambassadorship a much more lively idea of what the real thing would be like, and would have given him such a tale to bear to his king and master as would have opened his Majesty’s eyes to what the consequences of a war with us would probably be. But even as it was, it no doubt had a very salutary effect. The enemy were supposed to be holding a steep rise at the mouth of a long valley. The infantry threw forward skirmishers, and the mountain guns took up a position upon a neighbouring hill, and were supposed to open a heavy fire. Presently the infantry advanced in line, and made a rush up the steep rise. As they reached the top they lowered bayonets to the charge, and with a loud cheer rushed upon the defenders. An instant afterwards the word “Charge!” was given to cavalry, and away they went down the valley, sweeping the enemy’s supports and the fugitives from the hill before them for half a mile, and then scattering in pursuit. It was very well done, and, as I have said, no doubt had its effect, especially when the ambassador was made to understand that the force he saw before him was only one-tenth of our advancing army. The movements of the troops were fairly performed, and did great credit to their respective commanding-officers. Their remaining horses are in excellent condition, and are very strong serviceable animals. Their uniform is a very effective one, light-blue and silver, with white covers to their forage caps. The infantry, whose uniform is precisely similar to our own, also wear white cap-covers. Going out to the parade-ground, which is about two miles distant from here, we passed several native villages, and a great number of them can be seen scattered all over the plains. The country, indeed, is very thickly populated; very much more so than a rural district in England of the same extent. The people possess goats, sheep, and cattle in abundance, together with ponies, donkeys, and mules. They are ready to sell all these animals to us, but demand very high prices, which has been to a certain extent encouraged by the prices Colonel Merewether has ordered to be paid at the bazaar for them. Thus, he has fixed the price of a goat at a dollar and a half, that is six and ninepence, whereas I paid down in the pass only two shillings for a goat, and could have bought any number at that price. It is probable, too, that the current price for goats, or indeed for any animals, is considerably less here than in the valley, for there forage is extremely scarce, and must be sought at long distances; whereas here it is abundant, the plains being covered with it. Of course, this price having been once fixed, the natives will not take less, that is, in specie. They would take a shilling’s worth of rice for a goat; but of course we have no rice to give them. It may make but little difference to Colonel Merewether whether he pays seven shillings or two shillings for a goat; but the subalterns naturally grumble at having to pay three times the real value for their food. Not, indeed, that the officers here have to buy much, for their guns supplement their rations to a very considerable extent. Guinea-fowls, partridges, ducks, and geese abound, and a large number are daily shot by the sportsmen of the camp. The ration allowance of one pound of meat, including bone, a pound of biscuit, two ounces of preserved vegetables, and a quarter of a pound of rice, is quite insufficient for one’s wants in a bracing atmosphere like this. The meat issued contains an enormous proportion of bone, so that there is little if at all more than half a pound of clear meat in a ration. I am sure that I consume at least three times my daily allowance of meat.

The natives completely swarm about our camp. The men do not do much, but loiter about with their swords and spears, and shields made of elephant-hide. These spears are really formidable weapons. They are from six to ten feet long, and weighted at both ends, and the natives are able to throw them with great force and considerable accuracy for a distance of over thirty yards. These would be ugly weapons in a hand-to-hand fight in a bush, but as it is, against a disciplined force armed with firearms, they are simply absurd, and I have seen no offensive weapons – such as bows or arrows – which could be used with effect against us during the passage of a defile, in their possession, since my arrival in the country. The women appear to do all the work. They come into the camp in hundreds laden with firewood, and keep up a perpetual cry of “Lockaree, lockaree!” – which is the Hindoostanee for wood, they having picked up that word, – and “Parnè!” water. Even the children bring their bundles of wood. The women are not nearly so pretty as some of them I saw down the pass, nor are they so neatly clad. They are dressed in cotton and leather; but neither are these so tastefully arranged, or so fancifully ornamented with shells, as were those I described in a previous letter. They are very thin, many of the children painfully so, which is surprising when one sees the abundance of their flocks and herds. The villages, too, are well built. The houses are low and flat-roofed. They are in many cases built of stone, and some of them have inner courts, with a sort of veranda formed of boughs to sit under. They have, like the Arab villages I saw at Alexandria, and which they strongly resemble, no windows; but as the native’s life is entirely passed in the open air, I suppose that matters but little. The natives seem to feel the cold much, and go shivering about in the early morning and evening in a pitiful way. They bring in honey for sale in pots, weighing about ten pounds, and for which they charge two dollars. Their own drink is made of this honey, fermented with the juice of a plant which grows abundantly upon the plain. The honey, as they bring it into camp, is very impure, and needs refining before using. The commissariat officer rode out yesterday to one of the villages, and bought a quantity of chillies, which will prove a great addition to our fare when they begin to issue them, for we have had no pepper served out since we landed; and a course of mutton, unrelieved by condiment of any kind, is apt to pall upon the stomach.

All praise must be given to the commissariat for the way in which they have performed the service from Zulla to this place. Not one day have the troops been without their rations; and the animals, although they have not always received their full supply, have yet always had something to eat at the end of the day’s work. No commissariat officer accompanied the pioneer force in their march up; but the whole arrangements were made by Conductor Darcey, to whom the greatest credit is due. During the whole march he did not lose a single animal, or a single bag of grain. A commissariat officer has arrived within the last two days; but honour should be given where it is due, and certainly the greatest credit is due to those noncommissioned officers for the manner in which, alone and unaided, they have carried out the difficult duties intrusted to them. Two prisoners were brought in yesterday. They are part of the gang who have been infesting the pass, robbing every convoy without a guard of Europeans. They were captured by a friendly chief, who, with his men, came upon the whole gang. The rest fled, throwing away their weapons, of which quite a bundle was brought into camp. The prisoners, being old men, were unable to escape, and were brought in triumph by their captors into Rayray Guddy, whence they were forwarded to Colonel Merewether. Their preliminary examination by the interpreter took place in the open air. The prisoners and their accusers squatted in a circle, and a number of natives gathered round. These last were evidently greatly amused and surprised at the formality of the proceedings, – as the guilt of the accused was undoubted, articles of European manufacture, such as portions of harness, being found in their possession, – and the idea being evidently prevalent that we should hang them at once. They were removed to the guard-tent, and will, I suppose, be regularly tried, and well flogged, in a day or two.

This expectation was not verified; the prisoners were let off, with an admonition to behave better in future; and this happened again and again. The absurd course pursued by our political officer towards native offenders produced, as might have been expected, very disastrous consequences afterwards. The natives learnt that our baggage could be plundered with impunity, and that even when taken red-handed in the act, the chances were that no punishment whatever would be inflicted. They naturally ascribed this conduct on our part to fear – for in Abyssinia the punishment for theft is very severe, the culprit frequently having his hand cut off – and were encouraged to plunder accordingly. A moderate share of energy, one grain of common sense among the authorities at Senafe at this time, so that the first two or three offenders caught plundering our convoys in open day should have been flogged to within an inch of their lives, and plundering would have been put a stop to at once and for ever; and a very great many lives, both of our own muleteers and of the natives themselves, would have been eventually saved.

It is a great satisfaction to know that in the course of a short time we shall be able to purchase for the use of the army any number of bullocks and sheep. We have not been able to do so heretofore, for the absurd reason that we have had no money. Will it be believed that a body of troops marching on into a country where it is supposed they would be able to purchase any quantity of animals for themselves and the army which is to follow them, should have come up with the military chest totally unprovided with money? It is almost too preposterous, but it is perfectly true. A chest of two thousand pounds arrived yesterday under a guard. But what are two thousand pounds when we want three or four thousand bullocks alone, and when Colonel Merewether has fixed the price of each at six dollars and a half – that is, as nearly as possible, thirty shillings?

I shall be able to send you but little news from here. Colonel Merewether proceeds to-morrow morning forty miles into the interior. He takes with him a troop of cavalry, a large stock of mules, &c., but he declines positively to allow a confrère and myself to accompany him. He is civil, but firm. “The addition of two persons would probably break down the whole party. Starvation might ensue, and he could not guarantee that we should be fed.” These are actually word for word the reasons he gives for declining to allow the only two special correspondents here from accompanying his force. He can victual himself, Colonel Phayre, three or four other staff-officers, and a troop of cavalry; but two correspondents were too much for the resources of the commissariat. We called upon him twice; we urged upon him that it was a matter of great interest to the public that we should go forward. We said that we would put him to no trouble, but would bring our own mules, with ten days’ provisions, if necessary. He declined positively to allow us to go. He would, when he returned, give us details, and that was all he would do. The public, in fact, might read his official report and be thankful; for none other, says he, shall they receive. Had we arrived here as two unaccredited strangers, his conduct was perfectly explicable; but provided as we were by the courtesy of the India Office with letters to Sir Robert Napier, and furnished by him, in consequence, with a circular letter, requesting all officers of the army to forward our wishes in every way, we certainly had not expected to have been refused the chance of availing ourselves of the very first opportunity which has fallen in our way of sending you something really new from Abyssinia.

    Camp, Senafe, December 23d.

At the time I closed my last letter I had no idea that my next communication would be dated Senafe. Colonel Merewether’s unaccountable refusal to allow my fellow-correspondent and myself to accompany him upon his expedition had rendered our further stay here useless.

Accordingly, an hour or two after the expedition had started from camp, I packed up a light kit and started for the sea-shore. The road, as far as the top of the first descent, is now so free from stone that it might be used as a race-course, but we found that nothing had yet been done with the zigzag down the face of the hill. However, as we met no mules upon our way it was an easy descent enough; indeed the whole pass, from end to end, although it has its difficulties, still presents no real obstacle to a single traveller. It is only when viewed in the light of a highway for an army, as the only line of communication up which the stores of 20,000 men must come, that one considers it to be a really terrible business. No forage is procurable for the baggage-animals between the sea and Senafe, seventy miles. A large proportion, therefore, of the mules is occupied in carrying food for themselves and their companions. The stages, too, for heavily-burdened animals across an exceedingly-rough road are distressingly long. Twelve miles a-day, with a pause for an hour to feed and water in the middle of the day, could be done by heavily-loaded mules without deterioration of their quality. But here all the stages, except the last, considerably exceed that distance; and from Sooro to Rayray Guddy, over thirty miles, is practically without food or water. This is what makes the Koomaylo Pass so difficult as the highway of an army – want of forage the whole distance, and long intervals between the watering-places; to which may be added the disease which infects the pass and decimates the animals as they go up and down. The mule, although one of the most enduring of creatures, and capable of sustaining great privations, is yet a delicate animal. Feed him well, keep him supplied with water and hay, and he will do wonders; but without regular and abundant food he falls away rapidly. During the last campaign in Italy there were thousands of mules engaged transporting provisions up the Tyrol to Garibaldi. They had great fatigue and long marches, but they were well fed and had plenty of water; and consequently throughout the campaign I never saw a dead mule, and hardly one out of condition. Here it is just the reverse; the mules are greatly fallen off, and although they are now much better fed, they will be a very long time before they regain their lost strength. In respect to food a great improvement has been effected in the last few days. Captain Sewell has been here about a week. He is in charge of the commissariat, and has purchased considerable quantities of hay, which is now served out to the mules here, and to their even worse-off brethren down at Rayray Guddy; for here, at least, in their intervals of labour the mules were able to graze, while in the valley there is not a blade of grass to be had. Captain Mortimer, indeed, who is in charge of the transport division there, only kept his animals alive by compelling their drivers to go up to the summit of the hills, either before their day’s work is begun or after it was over, and to cut and bring down a certain weight of hay. It is very fortunate that vultures are so abundant in this country. Were it not for them the pass would be unbearable from the taint of dead animals. Between the top of the pass and Rayray Guddy, a distance of eight miles, we passed more than that number of dead mules and ponies, most of which had been only dead three days at most; and everyone of these had been partially eaten by the vultures, who keep wheeling and circling in the air overhead, and scarcely is life out of an animal before these scavengers swoop down upon it. I have seen as many as seven or eight of these great birds eating and fighting over the carcass of a single horse. The ride from the bottom of the steep incline to Rayray Guddy I have already described, and it is certainly the most beautiful ride of seven miles I ever traversed, the brilliancy and variety of the foliage, the number and beauty of the humming-birds and butterflies, all being in addition to the ordinary scenery of a mountain pass. I find that the great trees I described as tulip-trees are not really tulip-trees, although their foliage strangely resembles that tree. Authorities differ as to what they really are; some affirming that they are banyan-trees, while others say that no banyan-tree was ever seen without the long pendulous roots from its branches, of which there are here no trace.

Upon reaching Rayray Guddy we found that Sir Charles Staveley had arrived there two hours previously from Sooro. He had not heard of the departure of Colonels Merewether, Phayre, and Wilkins, and as the principal object of his journey had been to see them, he was of course much disappointed. However, he determined now he had come so far, to go on to Senafe, and we decided upon returning with him, as we had now no motive for going down, and, indeed, it was possible that he might either ride out himself to the point whither Colonel Merewether had gone, or might send an aide-de-camp to request him to return, in either of which cases we knew that he would grant us permission to go. General Staveley was the more disappointed at the absence of Colonel Merewether because he had taken the precaution of writing two days previously to announce his coming. The letter, of course, had not arrived, for the general had performed the distance in three days from Zulla to Senafe, and the post would take at least two days longer. Nothing, indeed, can possibly be worse than the postal arrangements, or rather want of arrangement. Relays of men on foot carry the letters, and even these do not travel at night. But the great question which everyone is asking is, “What becomes of the letters?” I have not received a single letter or newspaper of a later date than November 4th. Some few people have been more fortunate, and occasionally get a letter or paper; but they are exceptions. One feels as absolutely cut off from England as if a great gulf had opened between us. I did hear this morning from someone who had had the luck to receive an odd newspaper that the amount for the Abyssinian war had been voted, and we had a hearty laugh over the news that the expenses were laid at four millions. I only hope that the post down is a little better regulated than that up, for if not, instead of getting my letters regularly once a-week, they will probably arrive in a mass about the end of next June. The general came up here on the 22d. He will, I believe, start on his return journey to-morrow, whether Colonel Merewether and his party come into camp or not, as his presence is absolutely necessary on the sea-shore. It will be unfortunate if he should miss them after his long journey up here, especially as he had made certain of seeing them; for the committee of exploration, which consisted of Colonels Merewether, Phayre, and Wilkins, was dissolved by an order of General Napier, which was published ten days since, and of which these gentlemen of course received a copy. General Napier thanked them warmly for their efforts to carry out their duty, and for the success which had attended them, but stated that General Sir Charles Staveley had gone to Zulla to take the command until he himself arrived, and that therefore there was no longer any occasion for the existence of the committee. In the face of this order General Staveley could hardly have expected that these gentlemen would have proceeded on an expedition forty miles into the interior without any consultation or reference to himself.

An important messenger came into the camp on the afternoon of the 22d. He stated that he was the servant of Mr. Flad, and, indeed, was identified as being so by several people in camp. He stated that he had started with a letter from Mr. Flad, and with one from King Theodore, but that he had been robbed of them upon the way. He brought, however, one piece of important and very disagreeable news, namely, that Theodore had marched from Debra Tabor to Magdala; had raised the siege of that place by the King of Shoa, and had taken the whole of the captives back with him to Debra Tabor. This is the most unfortunate occurrence which could possibly have taken place. As long as the captives were separated from him by his enemies they were safe; and if, as will in all probability be the case, the army of Theodore should disband at our approach, and he himself rule safely in the fortresses of the mountains, where search for him would be out of the question, we should have marched to Magdala and effected the release of the prisoners. Now we have no such hope. We may toil on across mountain and ravine, but we know that our hands are shackled, and that the tyrant we war against can at any moment purchase peace upon his own terms. Theodore can laugh our efforts to scorn; he knows that he need not disquiet himself. He can let the expedition approach him. He can chuckle over the enormous waste of treasure and effort, even if not of human life; and he knows that at the last moment he can arrest us with the ultimatum – “Return at once, and I will release my prisoners; move one step forward, and I will sacrifice every one.” This is very disheartening, and takes away from the expedition that zest and buoyancy which the thought of a possible skirmish at the end of the toilsome journey would give it. Nothing could be more unfortunate than the loss of Theodore’s letter by Mr. Flad’s servant. It may be that in it Theodore offered to restore the captives at once upon the agreement that we would advance no farther. It may be that he held out the threat that the prisoners would be put to death did we not at once agree to his terms. Altogether it is most unfortunate. It is to be hoped that Theodore will see the manifest likelihood of his messenger being stopped upon the way, and will send his letter in duplicate by some other hand. There is a rumour current among the natives this morning that Theodore has released the captives, and that they are upon their way down. There is, of course, no finding out the origin of this report, but it is most unlikely that he would deliver them up until, at any rate, he had obtained a promise that we in return would abandon all idea of advancing upon him.

The disease among the horses still continues. Those who have been the longest up here appear comparatively safe, but it would seem to require some time to get the disease out of the blood. Every morning three or four mules are dragged out of the camp to the foot of the hills, a mile off, there to be eaten by the vultures. Yesterday afternoon my groom came to me with the unpleasant intelligence, “Sahib, your baggage-pony ill.” I went out and found him lying down. Upon the veterinary surgeon arriving he shook his head, and, pointing to the swollen tongue, said that it was the disease, and that in a couple of hours it would be dead. We tried brandy-and-water in the vain hope of reviving him, but it was quite useless, and in a little over the two hours the pony died, having been apparently unconscious for an hour and a half previously. Yesterday, too, the horse of Dr. Lamb, chief veterinary surgeon of the transport corps, died. Dr. Lamb came up with us a week since. After spending three days here inspecting the animals he returned, but as he did not wish his horse to run the risk of again going down into the pass, he left it here in perfect health, and rode down again upon a baggage-pony. Yesterday the poor animal died, after the usual three hours’ illness. Dr. Lamb strongly recommended that all animals which can be spared should be at once sent up here. Unfortunately none of the baggage-animals, except those which work the last stage from Rayray Guddy here, can be spared. They must remain below to carry up provisions and baggage whatever the mortality may be. General Staveley has ordered that in future 10 per cent of spare animals shall accompany every train of loaded mules, to take the baggage off those who give in on the way. He has also ordered that the artillery-horses shall be instantly sent up here with their native attendants. The soldiers cannot accompany them, as their warm clothing has not yet arrived. He has also ordered that the cavalry regiments shall be sent on the instant they land. The general has taken particular interest in the transport train since he arrived at Zulla, and it is due to the order he gave and to the assistance with which he supplied them from the 33d and Beloochee regiments, that the train down at Zulla has been enabled to make head against the tremendous difficulties they have sustained owing to the wholesale desertion among the drivers, and to the uselessness of a great portion of those who remain. He has divided the baggage-animals which are in the country into regular squadrons, stationing a number at each station proportioned to the length and hardship of the journey. General Staveley, indeed, is the very man for an expedition of this sort. Whatever he sees is necessary, he takes upon himself the responsibility of ordering to be done. I consider his arrival at Zulla to have been most providential. Everything was going wrong, disorder ruled supreme. All this is now at an end. General Staveley has taken the command, and unity of action is once more introduced. Whether Colonel Phayre, now that his committee of exploration is dissolved, may determine to go down to Zulla or to remain here, is now of little importance, as Major Baigrie, the deputy-quartermaster-general, is fully capable of carrying on the duties, supported as he is by the weight of General Staveley’s authority.

This morning the 10th Native Infantry were engaged in clearing a large space of ground of stones, in order to make it suitable for a parade-ground. It was wonderful to see how fast they got through the work, and how much more they accomplished than an equal number of Europeans would have done in the same time. And this because squatting is the normal attitude of an Oriental. In this attitude they can remain for hours; therefore the work of collecting the stones into heaps, which in turn were carried away in empty rice-bags by another party, was the easiest affair possible. It is very amusing looking on at these native fatigue-parties, the varieties of costume are so great. The 10th Native Infantry, like the Beloochees, is recruited from all parts of India, and contain Mussulmans, Punjaubees, Sikhs, Patans, Hill-men, and, in fact, specimens of most of the native races, the Hindostanee proper being greatly in the minority. To a certain extent these men cling to their own costume, consequently in a party of a hundred of them on fatigue-duty the variety is astonishing. Men in red turbans and white turbans, in red, white, or violet nightcaps – these articles having been served out to these men as part of their warm clothing – some in coloured jackets, white underclothing, and long drawers, others with nothing on but the cumberband, or loincloth, some entirely in white, with their legs covered to the knee. Many are the shades of colour too, from nearly jet black down to the rich bronze of the Sikhs. Almost all are fine, well-built men, and all appear to work with good temper and with a will. The parade is to take place upon the new ground to-morrow evening. It is not settled yet upon what day General Staveley will leave, but his present intention is, in case Colonel Merewether returns on the morning of the 25th, to start the same afternoon.

    Camp, Senafe, December 26th.

When I wrote on the 23d instant I had not made up my mind whether I should spend Christmas here or on the road downwards. But circumstances finally compelled me to wait here until to-day; and I am glad for several reasons that I did so. The first and most important was in reference to the story brought by Mr. Flad’s servant, namely, that Theodore had marched to Magdala, had raised the siege of that fortress by the rebels, and had taken all the captives back with him to Debra Tabor. As this news was brought by a man who was recognised by some in camp as being what he claimed – Mr. Flad’s servant – his statement was received without suspicion, and the event was justly considered to be most unfortunate. When, however, the exploring-party returned, Dr. Krapf, the chief interpreter, examined the man, cross-questioned him as to time and dates, and found that these were quite incompatible with the truth, as the man described them as having taken place in the latter part of October, whereas our last news from Mr. Flad himself was to November 7th, at which time none of these movements had taken place. Finding himself thus caught, the man confessed that his whole statement was a lie. I need not say that this contradiction of the false news gave the greatest satisfaction to everyone, but the general feeling was that six dozen, well laid on, would be of enormous benefit to the man who thus invented false news, apparently merely for the pleasure of gratuitous lying. Of course he will not be punished, for the policy pursued with respect to the natives is mild in the extreme. By all means conciliate natives, by all means pay for all you take, do no wrong to anyone; but at the same time make them respect you by the firmness with which you administer justice upon thieves and plunderers, and do not encourage the people to cheat you by ordering a price at least six or eight times above their former prices for every animal or article you buy. The men who were taken in the act almost of robbery down the pass, and whose preliminary examination I described a week since, have not been flogged, or, as far as I am aware, in any way punished, nor have three other ruffians who were captured the following day. The natives put this forbearance down to timidity on our part. They cannot comprehend that any other feeling could prevent our punishing these men, who have been robbing our convoys, now that we have them in our power. It may be a course of Christian forbearance, but officers whose kits have been plundered are very sore that fellows of this kind are not summarily punished upon the spot.

The exploring-party went forward to Attegrat, a place of some size, about thirty-five miles from here. They went by one route and returned by another. One line was rather more mountainous than the other, but both are, I hear, quite practicable, and water, forage, and wood were found in abundance. At Attegrat a large fair was going on, and very large quantities of cattle, sheep, goats, ponies, and mules, together with grain, chillies, honey, &c., were exposed for sale. The appearance of the escort of cavalry excited the greatest curiosity, and the party were almost mobbed as they walked through the fair. On parts of the route they passed through enormous flights of locusts, which the people were endeavouring to frighten away from their fields by beating drums and pieces of metal together, and by lighting great fires. The locusts abound everywhere here; not a bush which has not half-a-dozen of these insects, hardly a rock without one or two crawling over it. The natives say they have not had so many for years, and that the crops have been very greatly damaged by them. The only things which benefit by them are the monkeys and birds, both of which feed upon them. The natives themselves also eat them to a certain extent. The method of preparation is as follows: A large hole is made in the ground. This is lined smoothly with clay. A large fire is lighted in this, and when this has burnt down the ashes are scraped out, the hole is filled with locusts, and covered up with clay. When the insects are sufficiently baked they are taken out and pounded into a fine powder, which is eaten mixed with rice or flour. At Attegrat the expedition found blocks of salt used as the medium of exchange: we have not seen any in this part of the country. In the fair they also saw some really warm cloths of native manufacture. This is important, as, if the supply turns out to be abundant, it will save the expense of bringing warm clothing for the native troops from England. Indeed, warm clothes appear to me to be a most unnecessary portion of our enormous baggage. The weather by day, even at this the coldest time of year, and upon one of the most elevated parts of our journey, is never cold enough for warm clothing. At night men require an extra blanket for warmth, and this they might wrap round them over their greatcoat upon unusually cold nights. On Christmas-eve the general inspected the troops, who performed several manœuvres. He left on Christmas-day at three o’clock, four hours after the return of the expeditionary force, and having had a conversation of some length with Colonels Merewether and Phayre. One good result among the many brought about by the general’s visit here will be, that we shall now have some little attention paid to health. A medical officer had been appointed as sanitary officer, but his appointment, for any good it did, might as well have never been made. It was not that this officer failed in his duty, or that there was no need for his services; on the contrary, the state of the watering arrangements was disgraceful, the native troops washing, &c. in the pools above those from which the drinking-water was taken. The water certainly has to filter through the peat before it reaches the other pools, but that is little satisfaction. It is true that this was against orders, but the number of sentries posted was quite insufficient, or else they winked at the proceedings of their fellow-soldiers. I myself rode past half-a-dozen times, and never without seeing native soldiers washing on the edge of the pool. The latrine arrangements connected with the 10th Native Infantry hospital were also simply scandalous. But worst of all was the state of the pass, dotted with dead baggage-animals in every stage of decomposition, and the stench from which was almost overpowering. The sanitary officer had pointed out these evils, and had applied for power to take on a few natives to burn the carcasses in the pass. This suggestion, however, had been passed over as absurd, and he might as well have been in Bombay. Nothing whatever was done. General Staveley, however, restored this officer to his proper place, and gave him authority to take on the natives and burn the dead animals, which, had nothing been done, were offensive enough to have created the worst epidemic among the advancing troops. Other medical officers have been appointed to take bands of coolies and clear the different stages of this pass. The horse-disease still continues very bad. Of the six horses brought up by the general and the members of his staff, four were taken ill the day after his arrival here. They do not, however, appear to have taken it in a virulent form, and will, I hope, get over it. Yesterday being Christmas-day was of course kept with all honour; that is to say, with such honours as could be paid. It was hard to believe it was Christmas-day, especially among native troops; to them, of course, it was no festival. The day was fine and hot – the thermometer 75° in the shade, but very hot where there was no shelter. I fastened a large bunch of fir and of a plant somewhat resembling myrtle to my tent-pole, and two or three of the other tents were similarly decorated. One of the engineer officers had quite a triumphal arch of green erected before his tent. Large circular arbours were built up by the 10th Native Infantry and by the 3d Cavalry, to serve as shelter from the wind while they sat round the fire after dinner. I was invited by the 3d Native Cavalry to take my Christmas dinner with them, and a capital dinner it was under the circumstances. Two huge bunches of fir were fastened to the tent-poles, the table was formed of the lids of packing-cases, and we sat round upon boxes and chairs of every height and make. Here was a man on a seat so low that his chin hardly appeared above the table; next to him one perched up so high that his knees were on a level with his plate. Nor were the fittings of the table less various. It was the camp rule that everyone should bring his own plates, knives, forks, and glasses. Some of us therefore fed off tin, some off crockery, some off enamelled iron. Some drank from glasses, some from pewter-pots. The only uniformity was in the bottle of champagne placed before each diner. Most of us would, I think, have preferred beer; but there was not a bottle left in the camp, and the champagne before us had been hoarded for this sacred occasion. The dinner was various. Mutton and guinea-fowl; spur-fowl and venison; but, whatever we ate, everyone present religiously took a piece of the joint of roast beef. It was the only reminder of the occasion. I need not say how heartily each joined in the toast of “All friends at home.”

I start this afternoon on my way down the pass again to Zulla, and shall carry this letter down to post there, as the ridiculous arrangements to which I have before alluded still prevail. A native still creeps up and down the pass with a bag on his back, and takes his four or five days to do the seventy miles, whereas two relays of men on mules or ponies would bring the bag down in fifteen hours easily. As it is, no one knows whether they will be in time to catch a post or not. In fact, it is a pure haphazard proceeding.

    Zulla, Annesley Bay, January 2d, 1868.

I have been now three days back in Zulla, which is literally crowded with troops. In respect to the pass, nothing could be more surprising than the change which has taken place in the road during the fortnight which has elapsed since I first passed up. This is due to the way in which the sappers and miners, under officers of the Royal Engineers, and the advanced companies of the Beloochees, under Major Hogg, have worked. The latter are at work in the valley below the Rayray Guddy pass, and here they make very nearly a mile of road a day, along which artillery might be taken without difficulty. It is wonderful to see the change which they have effected, and the hearty way in which they work. Not less surprising is the change which the sappers and miners have effected in the Sooro Gorge. When I last rode up it, it was, as I described it, all but impracticable for loaded animals. One had to clamber over a huge boulder here, to scramble through between two others there. It was a really difficult proceeding, and loaded camels were unable to get through the narrow places. Now all this is changed. A path winds here and there among the rocks, down which I was able to ride my horse without the smallest difficulty. The worst part of the journey was the passage of the thirty-three miles between Rayray Guddy and Sooro, without water, except a bucket of pea-soup-coloured stuff at Guinea-fowl Plain for the animals. It is proposed to sink more wells at this point, to put up some pumps, and to establish a small commissariat dépôt, in order that troops may break their march there. As we rode down this dry parched valley for thirty miles, occasionally meeting detachments of weary men, who asked us pitifully how far it was to water, we could not help thinking of one of Colonel Phayre’s reports, in which he stated, “From Sooro to Senafe, about thirty miles more, water never fails.” The fact being, not one single drop is to be found in the thirty miles above Sooro, save at one muddy well.

At Koomaylo I found an astonishing change. The thorn-trees which had lined the bottom of the valley had been all cut down; a large space had been cleared as a camping-ground for troops as they march through; fresh wells have been sunk, and there are some of the American pumps at work, discharging a stream of clear water, which, flowing through a succession of tubs, enables the animals to be watered in one quarter the time formerly occupied. These pumps, which are called “the Douglas pitcher-spout pump,” are certainly admirable machines. When I had first heard of their arrival, and of the principle of their construction, I had not thought it possible that they could be used in such ground as this. They consist of a number of thin iron tubes like gas-pipes, screwing into each other, the lowest one terminating in a sharp spike of slightly bulbous form, so that, being thicker than the rod itself, it only touches the soil through which it is driven at that point, thus greatly diminishing the friction and resistance. On to the pipe, at about four feet from its upper end, is screwed a block of iron, which can be shifted as the rod gradually descends. A heavy weight of iron, with a hole through it, is put on the rod above this block, and to this weight ropes are attached working through pulleys placed on the top of the rod four feet higher. Two men pull these ropes, and the weight rises, and then falls, acting as a rammer upon the anvil of iron below. In this manner the whole rod is driven down, fresh lengths being added as required, and then a pump is established without the labour of sinking a well. The whole thing is simple in the extreme, and admirably adapted for clay or gravel soils. It could, however, hardly be expected to be successful in the bed of a torrent, where the gravel is mixed with blocks of stone of every size, as it is evident that a hollow pipe could not be driven through solid rock. The tube, however, in nine cases out of ten, pushes any obstacle aside, and reaches the required depth. It is intended to arrange a series of troughs, so that the animals may be enabled to drink upon their arrival without the weary hour of waiting which they have now to go through. Indeed, it is a wonder that serious accidents have not occurred owing to the eagerness with which the maddened animals struggle and fight to get to the water. At Koomaylo we found two companies of the 33d regiment. They have since been joined by another, and the three marched last night on their way to Sooro. Three other companies of the same regiment marched from here this morning, and will at once follow their advanced wing, while the head-quarters and remaining companies go on to-morrow. There is also a battery of the Royal Artillery at Koomaylo, that is, the guns, and a portion of the men are there, the horses and drivers having been sent up to Senafe to be clear of the disease. I met them at Sooro, and the animals were then all in splendid condition, and not a single horse or baggage-animal was as yet affected. Great as I had found the changes at other points along the line, the alterations were as nothing to those which had taken place at Zulla. The harbour contained more than double the number of vessels that were here before. It is probable that hardly a great commercial port in the world contains such a fine fleet of steamers and sailing-transports as are now lying off this place, of which no one had ever heard six months ago. The camp, too, was so altered that I had the greatest difficulty in finding the tent I was in search of, although it stood precisely where I left it three weeks since. But the place, which then contained under twenty tents, can now count ten times that number. The 33d are encamped to the right of the landing-place, at a quarter of a mile distant. General Staveley and his staff have moved their tents from the spot where they before stood, in the very centre of the dust and din of the place, to a little beyond the 33d lines, where General Napier’s tents are also pitched. The harbour is full of troops, who are clamouring for carriage to enable them to get on. The Scinde Horse are landing, as are the 3d Native Infantry. The 25th Native Infantry and her Majesty’s 4th Foot are there, as are artillery batteries and mountain trains, as are mules and horses innumerable, and a bewildering amount of stores. Very large quantities of these latter are now being forwarded to the front, and 3000 of the little cattle and donkeys of the natives have been engaged upon the service. The price paid is two and a quarter dollars per bag, and each bullock carries two bags, some of the smaller donkeys taking one each. The natives are responsible for any loss of stores, but up to the time I left Senafe not one single bag had gone astray. These animals are rather a nuisance to meet going down the pass. Our own mules go in strings, one tied behind the other, and the drivers, if one meets them, endeavour, as far as possible, to make room for an officer to pass. The natives, on the contrary, drive their animals in a herd before them, occupy the whole width of the track, and make no effort whatever to get their cattle out of the way. It is in vain shouting and being angry. The Shohos regard one with placid indifference, and you must push your horse into a thorn-thicket or up a rock to get out of their way. If you happen to overtake one of these native herds in rather a narrow place, it is still more provoking, for there is nothing to do for it but to follow patiently in their train for perhaps half-a-mile, half smothered in the dust they raise, until the valley opens, and you are able to leave the path, and get past them among the stones and scrub. These oxen are very small, but extremely hardy. There is nothing for them in the way of forage all the way up. All they have to eat are a few leaves from the bushes, and such handfuls of grass as their masters may get for them by climbing the sides of the hills, and yet they arrive at Senafe in good condition and without signs of distress, with their skin smooth, and their eyes bright. This accession of stores at Senafe is a great assistance. It is an addition to our stock there, and it is a great relief to the transport corps to be able to continue their regular work of forwarding regiments, and stores for present consumption of man and beast. The transport train is now doing its work very much better; but I shall have more remarks to make upon them in my next. Brigadier-general Collings started yesterday to take the command at Senafe, and I expect to find that very material changes have, in consequence, taken place there. Brigadier-general Schneider has arrived here, and will take the command at this landing-place.

The great event of to-day is the arrival of Sir Robert Napier, whose ship, her Majesty’s steam-ship Octavia, Captain Colin Campbell, was signalled as about to enter the harbour early this morning. The anchor was dropped at about half-past ten, and General Staveley and the heads of departments went off at once to see him. He is to disembark this evening. As it is war-time, there was no salute or demonstration upon the arrival of the ship.

    Zulla, Jan. 6th.

It is only after a ride or two round camp that one sees how very great are the changes which have taken place in the last three weeks. I do not know that anywhere in the world could more objects of various interest, more life and movement and bustle, be found than in a couple of hours’ ride through this camp. Start we from the head of the bunder– in England called pier; but here everything has its Indian name. The bunder has, since I last wrote, been lengthened a few yards, and has been widened at the end to a width of fifteen or twenty yards. On one side, too, wooden piles have been driven down, so that the great landing barges can lie safely alongside and discharge. It will be a great thing when it is finished in the same way all round the pier-head. Not very pleasant are one’s first steps upon Abyssinian soil, for the pier is made of great rough pieces of rock and pumice-stone, painful to walk upon, and utterly destructive to boots. In spite of this the pier-head is crowded. The hour at which we start upon our ride is daybreak, and from daybreak until eight o’clock bathing is allowed from the pier, as also from five to seven in the evening. Here we have a number of figures, some dressing, some undressing, some picking their way painfully over the stones to their clothes, others in the act of plunging into the water, which is at high tide seven feet deep. Around, the sea is dotted with heads, many of which we recognise and address. Here is a quartermaster-general, there a colonel of infantry, next to whom is a drummer-boy, and beyond a dozen privates. There is no distinction of rank here. Everyone picks out the softest stone he can find to sit upon, and cares nothing whether his next neighbour be a general officer or a full private. We pick our way as well as we can across this bit of rough ground and through the groups of bathers, and then at ten yards from the head of the pier we come upon smoother ground. Here is a line of rails, and the surface has been smoothed by spreading sand over it, an improvement which has only been completed two or three days since. Before, a walk down the bunder was certain destruction to any but the most iron-shod pair of boots. By the side of the bunder, where the rail commences, a large barge is lying. She has just come alongside, and fifty or sixty mules and ponies, her cargo, are looking over her rail with excited eyes and restless inquiring ears at the bustle on the quay, and at this land, which, although they know it not, is destined to be the grave of many of them. On the pier, awaiting their arrival, is one of the indefatigable officers of the transport train. He has with him a couple of men. A long gangway is laid from the barge, which is much higher than the pier, down on to the stones; on this are thrown some gunny-bags, and then the animals, some coming readily enough, others resisting strenuously, snorting and struggling, are led down. As they reach the land their head-ropes are tied together in fours, and they are sent off with their drivers to wait at the end of the bunder until all are landed. It is not a long operation. Ten minutes or so, and then an inspector takes them off, first to the watering-troughs and then to the lines. Opposite the landing-barge, on a vacant spot on the pier, a distilling apparatus is at work. This machine, I believe, partly supplies the sailing-ships, and also the wants of the fatigue-parties at work on the pier. Next to the barge lie two native boats discharging stores, which a fatigue-party are loading into the trucks, under the direction of the officers of the quartermaster’s or commissariat departments. As soon as the trucks are loaded, a party of Soumalis seize them and push them along the track to the yard, shouting their universal chorus as they do so. Next to the native craft unloading are a number of boats belonging to the ships in harbour, and which are either supplied to one of the departments, or are waiting while their skippers are on shore. On the opposite side of the pier the water is more shallow, and boats never come in here, but it is by no means empty at present, for there are a couple of hundred men bathing all along – less adventurous spirits, who do not care for the plunge into deep water, or for walking over pumice-stones with naked feet.

When we get to the end of the bunder we mount our horses, which our gorrawallahs have been holding, and we follow the line of rails. As soon as we are fairly ashore, we find great piles of stores lying by the rails. These belong to the land transport stores. Hundreds of great cases, each containing four Otago mule-saddles. Piles of Bombay pads and of camel-saddles. Their other stores are sent up to their own lines, a quarter of a mile farther; but the heavy saddles have not been sent there, as the line has only been opened to that point during the last two days, and it is much easier to bring the mules down and to saddle them here than it is to take the heavy cases on farther. There is a saddling-party at work now. It consists of a fatigue-party of artillery, directed by an officer of the transport corps. A Chinese carpenter opens the cases. Two of the men lift the contents out, and cut the lashings which secure each separate article of the fittings together. Others stand round and fit the saddles together – no easy task, for they are extremely complicated. This, however, is not of so much consequence as it would otherwise be, for, once put together, they do not require much subsequent unstrapping. Others then put the saddles and bridles on to the mules, some of which object most strongly to the operation, pull back violently, turn round and round as fast as the man with the saddle approaches, and lash out with a steady power which, exerted in any other way, would be highly satisfactory. In vain the soldiers try to keep them steady. In vain pat, coax, strike, and swear. In vain they strap up one of the fore-legs. Some of the beasts are quite unmanageable, and are only subdued by strapping up a leg, and then keeping them going round and round upon the other three until quite exhausted. The cases of the saddlery are broken up, and spread out upon the ground to pile bags of rice or grain upon – no unnecessary precaution, for a high tide the other night wetted an immense quantity of hay, and the stores have been since shifted farther inland. The engineers had constructed a sort of sand-wall to prevent the recurrence of such an event; but they calculated without their host. They fortified against the enemy in front, but made no account of him in the rear. The consequence was that in the heavy rain of Saturday night the water came rushing down from behind, and being prevented flowing into the sea by this dam, again created a small flood, but this time of fresh water, in the commissariat yard. The commissariat yard when I was last here stood where the transport yard now stands, but it is now shifted more to the left. The reason of this was that the commissariat stores, the bundles of compressed hay and the bags of rice and grain, are not too heavy to be carried ashore by the natives, while the heavy cases of the transport corps necessarily were put in the cars. The commissariat stores are therefore principally landed in native boats, which come into three-foot water, and from which lines of wading Soumalis bear them to land. The heavier stores, such as barrels of rum and ghee, are of course landed on the bunder and brought up on the trucks. Everywhere about the end of the pier is bustle. Here are a party of Madras coolies moving stores. There are a hundred mules just starting with provisions for the front. Here come a detachment of one of the regiments to take charge of some of their baggage just being landed. Everywhere an energetic officer of the various departments directing the operations. We now ride on. Leaving the line of rails we turn to the right, bearing gradually away from the sea. The first group of tents we come upon are those of the officers of the land transport. They will not be there long, however, for they have orders to shift over to the other side, where the lines of their animals are five minutes’ walk away, and at the extreme right of the camp. Did these officers’ duties lie principally at their lines, there would be some reason for this; but as it is, they are either on the bunder landing horses, or else saddling down by the shore. The duties of looking after the animals in their lines have of course to be generally supervised by an officer from each division, but are under the charge of English inspectors, who are sergeants in cavalry or line regiments. The lines, being to leeward of the camp, are constantly enveloped in a cloud of blinding dust, so thick that one cannot see fifty yards. To live in such an atmosphere is next to impossible, especially when delicately scented by the odour of the three or four thousand mules, ponies, and oxen, to say nothing of the native attendants close at hand. The former spot where they were encamped was only five minutes’ walk distant, and to insist upon these officers living and working close by their lines is about as reasonable as an order would be for the officers of the Life Guards to sleep in their stables. I am convinced that General Schneider will have to revoke his order, for it will be simply impossible to keep books or accounts in a dust which would be two inches thick in five minutes upon everything; and although an officer’s comfort or health may be a very trifling matter, anything which might be an obstacle to his returning the necessary number of reports and statements will be certain to be considered.[1 - It was not for some months after this date that the transport officers were allowed to move their camp to a more habitable spot.] Riding through the transport officers’ lines, we come upon a line of tents occupied by the medical staff. Then comes a gap, and then we enter the lines of the European regiments, at present occupied by portions of the 33d and 4th infantry and artillery. Its appearance bears little resemblance to that presented by a regiment under canvas at home. The tents are of an entirely different shape; they are single-poled tents, and are perhaps fifteen feet square. They have canvas walls of nearly six feet high, so that one can stand upright anywhere. Above the tent itself is a cover, which extends over it and projects three feet beyond the walls, making the tent double over the roof, and forming an awning around it. About eight inches is left between the two roofs for the circulation of air. These tents are in their way perfect, but they are extremely heavy, and will be left here, and the troops will take up with them tents known as native “routies” – I do not guarantee the spelling of this or any other native word – which I shall describe hereafter. Not less than the tents do the men differ from the European standard. The gray suits of karkee – a sort of stout jean – and the ugly helmets of the same material, look like anything rather than the garb of the British soldier. Then, too, the arrangement of the camp looks unfamiliar, for the tents are placed far asunder. This is necessitated by the great length of the ropes of the tent. Here, too – strange sight in an English camp – interspersed among the tents are queer bowers of shrubs, covered with gunny-bags, old sacks, and other odds and ends. Round these bowers squat swarthy figures scantily clothed. These are the camp-followers, the attendants on the British soldier; these their abodes. These men draw his water, pitch his tents, sweep out his camp – in fact, perform all the work which a soldier in England does for himself. In India the soldier is a valuable animal. He is valued at one hundred pounds, and is too costly to be risked by doing hard work in the sun. He is kept for fighting only, and it is very right that it should be so. It has been questioned whether it would not have been better to have brought soldiers direct from England, who are accustomed to rough it for themselves. There is much to be said upon the subject, to which I shall some day revert, but at present I am inclined to think that in this respect the authorities have judged rightly, for judging by the 102° which the thermometer marked here in the shade on New Year’s-day, we shall have a more than Indian heat – that is, those down upon this plain will – in the middle of summer, and although the heat in the interior will probably be nothing to what it will be here, there can be no doubt that the less men are exposed to it the better. But we must continue our ride.

Just behind the European lines, that is, between them and the sea, is a line of tents, some of which are of large size, and by the side of one of these the British ensign is flying. These are the tents of the head-quarters staff. We turn our backs on this and gallop across the European lines, that is, inland. There is an unoccupied space of perhaps four hundred yards, and then we come upon a camp of quite different aspect from the last. Here the tents are ranged in two lines, and are placed quite close together, that is, with not more than three or four yards between them. The neat and orderly appearance of these lines of tents shows to all the greater advantage after the straggling look of the European lines. These tents are routies. They are large double-poled tents, single, but lined with blue bunting. The tents, like the English bell-tents, reach nearly to the ground, with only a wall of about eighteen inches in height. The opening is at one end, and extends from the pole downwards. This is, for a climate like the present, a great drawback, for the opening is very large and cannot be closed. In a hot climate this would matter but little; but for a country with heavy dews and cold nights in winter, and with heavy downpours in the rainy season, it is a very serious disadvantage. Opposite the long line of the routies are the mess and officers’ tents. There are two regiments camped in these lines, or, more properly, portions of two regiments. The men on duty look more like England than the European troops had done, for they are all in their scarlet tunics and black trousers. It is only the headgear which is different. The 3d Native Infantry have blue puggaries round their forage-caps. The 25th Native Infantry have green. The 10th Native Infantry wear white puggaries, and the Sappers and Miners black, and this acts as an easily-distinguished mark between the various native regiments. They all wear the regulation tunic and trousers, but vary the puggary or cap-cover according to the taste of their commander. When I say they all wear the British uniform, I mean that the old sepoy regiments do so. Some of those who have only been admitted among the regular Indian army of late years, such as the Beloochees, wear quite different uniforms. I have omitted to state that in our ride between the 33d and Native Infantry camps, we passed through some artillery; but these, as well as the sappers and miners, and the ordnance commissary tents – which, with the telegraph, railway, and other departments, are pitched near the line of railway – I must reserve for another letter. We are only making a tour of the outside of the camp upon the present occasion. Riding on through the native infantry lines, and crossing a few hundred yards of open ground, we come to the bazaar, which is on the main road to Koomaylo. The bazaar is certainly not much to look at. Two or three dozen tents, composed of rough poles covered with matting, constitute it. As there are no windows to any of these establishments, it is unnecessary to state that there is no display of goods. There is an open doorway through which any intending purchaser enters, and asks for anything he desires. If it is kept there a box is opened and the article produced, if not he goes into the next shop. There is a guard of European soldiers at the entrance to the bazaar to keep order, and their services are not unfrequently called into requisition. During the last part of our ride we have fairly got into the dust, which hangs over Zulla in a sort of lurid cloud, and entirely shuts off all the view, even the nearest hills from the harbour. This dust is terrible. It fills the eyes, mouth, and nostrils, and equals the dust on the Champ de Mars in Paris, which I had hitherto considered unrivalled in the world. Sometimes the wind blows steadily, and then there is one great uniform swoop of dust; at other times it seems to lull for a while, and then from three or four spots a straight column ascends, such as burning piles of green wood upon a calm day might produce. These columns will remain stationary for three or four minutes, and then move rapidly along, and woe to the unfortunate tents over which they may pass, for they will make a clean sweep of every light object, and will leave three inches deep of sand on everything. In camp phraseology, these little whirlwinds are called devils. Passing from the bazaar, still moving as before in the arc of a circle, we come upon the railroad. The railroad has made far less progress in the last month than anything else here has done; at this rate it will not be near Koomaylo by next Christmas. I do not hesitate to say that ten English navvies would have done very much more in the same time; and as for the Army Works Corps, which we had in the Crimea, they would have half-finished it to Koomaylo. But this delay is due to no want of zeal on the part of those who have the direction of it, but simply a want of method, and of materials, which are, no doubt, somewhere on board ship, but cannot be got at. Just at this part we pass under some poles with a fine copper wire extending between them. This is the telegraph, which in a very short time will be open to Koomaylo, and thence will be pushed on in a week or so, for the wire is at all the stations along the line of march; and it would have been completed to Senafe by this time were it not that the poles have not come to hand, from some reason or other.

We now are approaching the lines of the transport animals. This is the most interesting sight in the whole camp. Here are long lines of ponies, just arrived from Suez. Next to them are hundreds of mules of all nations and breeds. Here are the cart-mules, and 200 light carts, to be drawn by one or two animals, are ranged near them. Beyond them are the baggage-mules, 600 in number. All of them have arrived during the last two or three days; many of them have not yet been saddled, for the unpacking and fitting together of the saddles is a long and tedious operation. Many of the mules are not even branded. Beyond them, again, come the draught-oxen, with their carts. They are the same beautiful white Brahmin cattle which I saw at Bombay – enormous animals, as strong as camels and quiet and docile as sheep. Near them are ranged their carts, which are of altogether different construction from those for the mules. On the ground under the feet of all these animals is scattered a thick layer of chopped straw and hay, and their condition and state afford as strong a contrast as can possibly be conceived to that of the famished, dying animals I described in the letter I wrote upon landing a month since. This extraordinary improvement must be assigned to the immense efforts which all the officers of the Transport Corps have made, and especially to those of Captain Twentyman, of the 18th Hussars, who during that period has been in command. But even the exertion of all these officers would have been in vain had it not been for the strong and cordial assistance which General Staveley has given to Captain Twentyman. Every suggestion made by the latter has been indorsed and ordered to be carried out by the general, who is fully alive to the fact that the Transport Corps is the all-important branch of the expedition. The animals are all picketed by their head-ropes to long lines of picket-rope, but no heel-ropes are used. Certainly the use of heel-ropes adds greatly to the uniformity of the appearance of picketed animals, as they all retain the same distance from each other and from the ropes, and there is also the advantage that they cannot kick each other or any passer-by. On the other hand, it may be said that mules seldom or never do set to and kick when picketed. I have seen no instance of their so doing; and I understand from the transport officer that there have been no cases of mules being injured by kicks received when picketed. The advantages of their not having foot-ropes are that they have much greater freedom of position. They can lie down, get up, and move across the rope, and, in fact, stretch their tired limbs far better than they can when they are confined by foot-ropes; and, lastly, the mules are not accustomed to the ropes, and frequently get sore fetlocks from their use. The balance of advantages is, then, in favour of allowing them to remain picketed only by their head-ropes, especially as the fastening by the heel-rope involves driving in pegs and loss of time in roping – matters of importance when a train arrives late at night with drivers and animals alike jaded and fatigued. The whole of the animals are now in fair working condition, with the exception only of about 200 camels, which are out at Hadoda, where they were sent to recruit, having arrived in too bad a condition to be set to work. There were more sent out, but some have returned to work, others have died – many of pure starvation, although there were stores of grain lying at Weir, within two or three miles, literally rotting. But the custom is not to give camels grain, but allow them to get their livelihood by plucking a few leaves from the shrubs. It is not to be wondered at, then, that the poor beasts gained no strength. This will now be remedied, for Dr. Lamb, one of the veterinary surgeons of the Transport Corps, has reported that they are dying of pure starvation; and I understand that General Staveley at once ordered that grain should be issued to them.

In my next letter I shall describe the organisation of the Transport Corps; but at present we must continue our ride, which is now nearly over, for we have almost completed our circle, and are again approaching the sea-shore. We pass on our way some strange bower-like structures, whose progress I have watched for the last few days with some curiosity. I first saw three or four long lines of sand, which were carefully levelled, and were four or five yards wide, and perhaps fifty yards long. By each side of these lines of sand coolies were engaged sticking rods, about the same length, but thinner, than hop-poles. I could not even guess the object of these lines. Next day I found that poles had been stuck in across the ends, and that at distances of four yards across partitions had been made. Riding close, I saw that in the side row a gap was left as a doorway to each of these partitions. The next day I found that thinner rods were being fastened to the tops of the others – along which horizontal pieces had been tied – and that these were being bent over and twined in the centre, so as to form a bower. The mystery was now explained. These long rows of poles were the framework for rows of huts; bushes are to be entwined between them, and the whole, when finished, will accommodate, or rather hold, five hundred of the commissariat coolies, for whom they are destined. We now trot on to the watering-place. The last time I was here it was one of the most painful sights I ever witnessed to see the animals watered. They were formed in lines near the miserable little troughs, and were with the greatest difficulty kept back until these were full. Half maddened with thirst as they were, it was a service of real danger to restrain them, and when they were allowed to rush forward it was too often to find that there was scarcely a mouthful of water each. It was no wonder that they screamed and struggled and fought. It was a battle for life, in which the victors moved off unsatisfied, but with sufficient water to enable them to live until the next scanty supply was issued, while the vanquished dragged themselves away to die. Thank God this is over now. There is plenty of water for all. I do not think an animal in this camp has an insufficiency of water. The trough is long and wide, and the animals advance on each side and drink as much as they desire. The times for watering them is from six to eight in the morning, and from four to six of an evening. A strong fatigue-party are present to pump the water from the tank into the trough, and to keep order. They are ordered to leave the trough full when they cease pumping, so that any animal which may arrive late may not be deprived of its drink.

We have now only to ride along the shore for another 300 yards to arrive at the commissariat stores on the left of the bunder, from which we started. Here everything is excellently arranged and managed. The great piles of stores are covered with tarpaulins and old sails to keep off the rain; and as it was impossible to procure stones to form a foundation for the sacks, and to keep them clear of the damp, broken-up packing-cases were laid down first on the sand, then empty sacks, and then bales of hay from Bombay, which is much more bulky and less valuable than the compressed hay from England. No damage of any great extent can therefore ensue from the heaviest flood. There are two very large wooden stores, in which articles readily damageable by rain are housed; and there are two very large framework buildings erected, which only require the corrugated iron-plates.

Nearly opposite the commissariat a long wooden jetty is in course of erection. It is already completed for a considerable distance; but the water is so shallow, that it will have to be carried very much further out before boats can come alongside to load.

We have now completed our circular ride round the camp; and I must leave the camps and dépôts lying in the interior of the circle until another occasion, for I have not yet touched upon the immediate news of the day.

General Napier landed yesterday morning at half-past seven. A guard of honour of the 4th regiment was drawn up at the end of the pier, and the various generals here, with their staffs, and the heads of the different departments, received him. I had heard that he was going to land earlier, and went down to the waterside just at daylight.

Everything was quiet then, and not a breath of wind ruffled the water. Presently there was a sign of life in the men-of-war, the Octavia, Serapis, and Argus. Men began to climb the rigging, and to fasten man-lines above the yards. Then they came down again, and all was quiet on board the men-of-war; but the merchant-vessels were now making a move, and the native boats were putting off towards the ships they were told off to discharge. In the mean time the guard of honour and the officers took their places at the head of the bunder. Now a signal is run up to the mast-head of the Octavia, and, as if by magic, a crowd of white figures leap up the shrouds of the men-of-war, and run out upon the yards. Another minute of silence, and then a boat with an awning pulls out from the after-side of the Octavia, and a few seconds afterwards the thunder of her guns tells us that the Chief of the invading army has left the ship. Three minutes later the little guns of the mountain train proclaim that he has landed; the band strikes up “God save the Queen,” the troops salute, and Sir Robert Napier has taken command of the forces here.

After all, this is more a ceremony than a reality, for the General has been ashore examining into all that was going on every day since he came into harbour. There is a great feeling of satisfaction at his arrival, as, in the first place, he is a most popular chief, and in the next, nothing definite could be decided upon as to the movements of troops or on the plan of the campaign until he arrived. The on dit now is that no more troops will be sent forward at present, but that the whole efforts of the transport corps and commissariat will be devoted to accumulating a six months’ stock of provisions at Senafe. The 33d have already gone on; but it is now probable that no other regiment will move for another fortnight.

We have at last authentic news from the interior. A letter has arrived from the prisoners, dated Dec. 15th (I can hardly understand how, at the Shoho rate of travelling, it can have come so fast), in which they report that the King of Shoa, who was besieging Magdala, and upon whose assistance Colonel Merewether had built much, has retired from before the place, and that it is now open to Theodore. This is certainly bad news. Not that I have ever put the smallest trust in the assistance of any of these kinglings. On the contrary, I think that the policy which has been hitherto pursued with respect to the natives has been a mistake. We should have never asked for alliance or friendship. We are perfectly strong enough to go on by ourselves, and were we not it is certain that we could place no reliance upon any professions of friendship. Why, then, make the natives think we are weak by asking for allies? Say firmly to each king, “We are going on through your country to fetch the prisoners beyond. We are perfectly strong enough to do this, and anything beside which may be necessary. We go through and return without making any stay. In your country are many kings and many rivals. We need no assistance, and we know that if we enter into alliance with one chief we gain the enmity of another by so doing. We wish not, therefore, to enter into any alliance whatever. We are friends passing through your country. We require stores, cattle, &c., and we mean to have them; but we pay for everything we require, and that at prices which the imagination of the herd-and flock-owner of Abyssinia never before conceived even in his wildest dreams.”