A LION NEAR THE CAMP—THE MONKS OF CHARDAMBA—WE MEET ALI DHEEN PASHA, GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF THE SOUDAN—ARRIVAL AT KEREN, OR SANH?T—THE PRIESTS AT KEREN—ACCOUNT OF KEREN—MERISSA—DRA, A DOMESTIC SLAVE, MADE FREE—DESCENT FROM SANH?T TO THE ANSEBA VALLEY—THE BIRDS THERE—ALONG THE RIVER-BED OF THE LABAK—A BIG MARCH—MASSAWA—FAREWELL TO CAMELS—MASSAWA TO SOU?KIN—TAKE IN CARGO—FAREWELL TO THE SOUDAN—ARRIVAL AT SUEZ.

April 9th.—About 9 o’clock we were off again, halting at 5.30 p.m. at Adatur, on the River Bogoo. A fine leopard and hy?na were shot last night. About 9 p.m., whilst I was writing my diary, alone in camp, the others having gone out in search of lions, a native came up to me, whispering, “Asset, asset, howaga” (a lion, a lion, sir). It was a lovely moonlight night, so light that I could see to[299] read or write distinctly. I looked on to the river-bed in the direction indicated by the Arab, and there, 40 yards off, I plainly saw a noble-looking lion. I was not long in obtaining a rifle from my tent, and following him up the river-bed; but to no purpose, as he was too far off to risk a shot at him. Finally he turned off into a large palm grove on the opposite side, where, of course, I did not follow him. I am told that about 14 years ago all this neighbourhood belonged to Abyssinia, but now belongs to Egypt. From this spot, not very far off, we noticed a most precipitous mountain, called Chardamba, in Abyssinia; it is almost inaccessible, and can only be ascended by taking off one’s shoes and stockings, on account of the smoothness of the stones, at least, so Mr. Phillipps says. He and some of his party had the curiosity to climb it last year, and nearly got killed by stones being rolled down on them, for on the very summit of this mountain dwell some monks who have quite eschewed the pomps and vanities of this world. Many of them are withered, shrivelled old fellows who have lived there without once coming down for the space of 30 or 40 years, and, to all appearance, are one or two hundred years old. They possess a deep well, a chapel, each one a separate apartment or den, and they grow a little dhurra.

The next day we marched from 7.30 a.m. until[300] 5.30 p.m., encamping at Ashdera. On the road we met, about 1 p.m., Ali Dheen Pasha, the Governor-General of the Soudan (who succeeded Ali Riza Pasha, a most unpopular governor). He was coming from Massawa, and, I believe, going on to Kassala. We had a very long pow-wow with him. He informed us that our Abyssinian affair had created quite a sensation in Cairo, that the Minister of the Interior had telegraphed to him asking if we were safe, and that the Mudir of Kassala had been dismissed for not sending soldiers with us, which, by the way, was not his fault, for we would not have them. The palace at Massawa was built by Gordon Pasha when Governor of the Soudan. This Ali Dheen kindly placed at our disposal, until a boat could take us to Suez.

On the 10th April a march of about 10 miles only brought us to Keren, or Sanh?t. Soon after our arrival Réschid Pasha sent an officer, whom Ali Dheen Pasha had sent on, to inquire if we had arrived safe, and were comfortable. From here we sent telegrams to Massawa respecting boats to Suez. Although our journey was a short distance, it took us a considerable time to accomplish it. I should think, for about the distance of a mile, we traversed a most precipitous ascent in a zig-zag fashion; this was not far from Keren. On reaching[301] the summit we found ourselves in quite a different kind of country. We soon paid a visit to the priests at Keren, who have an excellent garden. They kindly sent us some fine cabbages leeks, carrots, potatoes, and lettuce. As we had not seen anything of this kind for months they were, of course, a great luxury for dinner in the evening. In the afternoon the army doctor (who could speak French tolerably well) called on me, and as I had almost finished my campaign I gave him the greater part of the contents of my medicine chest. In the afternoon the tom-toms were set going, accompanied by the peculiar trilling note of the women, to express their joy at our arrival. They had heard that we had all been killed by the Abyssinians, our men also, many of whom came from here—Ali Bacheet, Dra, Girgas, and Mahomet Zanzimeer. The latter was thus called because he generally attended to our zanzimeers when we arrived in or started from camp. Pere Picard and another priest dined with us in the evening. After dinner about 60 children, well clothed, nice and clean, from their schools, came to witness the mysteries of the magic lantern; not only they, but Réschid Pasha, with a number of officers, came also, and were much pleased. When they took their departure rockets, together with red and blue fires, were let off.

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Keren, or Sanh?t, is the capital and only town of Bogos. It is 4,469 feet above the level of the sea, on the edge of the highlands of Abyssinia, and on one side of a table-land, about four miles long by two broad, surrounded by hills. Being situated in such a high position, it is healthy at all times of the year.

This elevated plateau has for its southern boundary the Abyssinian mountains, which come down to within about two miles of the town, which is built just outside the gates of the fort, and consists of two short, broad streets of very poor Greek stores, and some clusters of Abyssinian houses and Arab huts.

About a mile distant across the plateau is the French monastery. With the exception of the Pasha’s residence, the monastery and its adjacent buildings are the only respectable-looking habitations there. They have an Amharic printing press for publishing Bibles in the native tongue, schools for educating Abyssinian boys for the priesthood, also for the education of girls. When I was there, about four priests and a few sisters fed, clothed, lodged, and educated upwards of 80 boys and 50 girls. They had a good schoolroom, chapel, dormitories, pharmacy, and harmonium, which latter one of the sisters play. The children, who looked very[303] clean and orderly, sang very nicely a hymn in French for our especial benefit. These priests print, bind books, have carpenter’s and blacksmith’s shops, a dairy, vegetable garden, and appear to be a very useful community, exercising, I should say, a great deal of self-denial by residing in such a place as they do. They cannot certainly have a very festive time of it, for the Egyptian authorities regard them as spies, while, on the other hand, the Abyssinians, who distrust them, will not allow them into their country. I must speak of these priests as I found them. None of us were Roman Catholics, but they behaved with very great kindness to us; and we must award them a great degree of credit for the civilizing influence they exercised amongst these waifs and strays. The thought that occurred to me was that if Roman Catholic priests could be doing all this good, why not English missionaries also? There is generally a garrison of about 1,000 soldiers at Keren. There is scarcely any trade, as merchants will not risk their lives and goods, knowing the hostility of the Abyssinians, who are anxious for the recovery of Keren and the lost province of Bogos, added to which the Egyptian policy is to isolate Abyssinia, thereby preventing the importation of arms and ammunition for King John’s army. The Beni-Amirs and other neighbouring tribes, who are[304] all owners of large herds, on which they wholly subsist, are the Egyptian subjects. Fuel is scarce, as it has to be brought from the Anseba valley, four miles distant. Water also has to be brought from a distance, but there is a well inside the fort which supplies the garrison. Dhurra is dear, as the continual dread of Abyssinian raids prevents people from cultivating, also from building decent houses. There are no camels, and very few horses and mules.

MOUNTAIN PASS NEAR KEREN OR SANHêT

I once tasted at Kassala a kind of beer made from dhurra, called merissa, and thought it exceptionally nasty. It is probably the same as that mentioned by Herodotus, and is in common use in the Soudan and Upper Egypt. I was again induced by a native, who thought he would be attentive to me for some little professional attendance I had given to taste this vile liquid. Thinking, perhaps, it might not be so nauseous as my last dose, I drank some, and acted like a stoic and philosopher, for I did not exhibit any outward and visible sign of the rebellious feelings taking place within. But “no matter;” I mentally resolved that in whatever part of the Soudan I might at some future time find myself, I would never again degrade my esophagus by allowing any merissa to glide down it, for I would just as soon have taken[305] one of my own vile black draughts, and infinitely have preferred a bottle of Bass’s pale ale. I have no hesitation in saying that if merissa—a very euphonious name, so much like Nerissa—was the usual beverage in England, the Blue Ribbon Army would find in me a very ardent supporter, as it is more unpalatable, thick stuff than schliva (a Bosnian drink, made from the juice of prunes, possessing a strong asaf?tida flavour). Merissa is made from dhurra, which is allowed to germinate in the sun, then reduced to flour by hand-mills. This, again, is converted into dough, boiled, and left to ferment. I hope that if I ever again pollute my lips with merissa—not Nerissa—I may be served in the same way, that is, that I may germinate in the sun, be ground into powder, made into a pulp, boiled, and allowed to ferment.

To-day a circumstance occurred in camp, illustrative of a curious custom existing in the Soudan. Dra, who has been with us as a native servant ever since we left Kassala, is, we find, a slave. Some altercation took place this morning between Dra and another native, when the latter called him a slave. This excited Dra’s anger to such an extent that he talked about knifeing his accuser. However, Messrs. James and Co. enquired into the matter, and found that he was what they call a[306] slave—what we should ............