Chapter VIII

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

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

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

_See p._ 103.]

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

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

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

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

_See p._ 105.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_See p._ 102.]

_See p._ 110.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_See p._ 66.]

_See p._ 114.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_See p._ 118.]

_See p._ 147.

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

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

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

_See p._ 120.]

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

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

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

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

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

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