We at length reached a narrow tortuous ridge of at least a mile in length, across which, a walk of but a few yards presented to the view on either side, a deep and extensive valley. That on the left hand is by far the narrower and more precipitous, being bounded by the steep, almost perpendicular face of the opposite ridge of Tchakkah, at the distance of about four miles; whilst that on the right, is of a character exactly the reverse, a widely extending amphitheatrical formed valley spreading from below the feet, far towards the east.
From the summit of an inclined plane, eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, the eye travels for sixty miles over hundreds of little hills, embosomed in the widely diverging arc that defines the bay-like valley, in which is contained the whole of the numberless streams that, joining the small river Dinkee near to Farree, flow into Lee Adu. This lake formed a bright feature of the scene, embosomed in the dark green belt of forest that marks the course of the Hawash; beyond which the sandy plains of Adal, blending with a colourless sky, constituted an horizon in which sight was lost.
Between the two strongly contrasted yet equally beautiful scenes I could have oscillated the whole day, had not I been reminded by Mr. Scott that breakfast would be waiting for us at Ankobar. At this touching appeal I urged on my mule, who now rested herself by a gallop along the very level summit of the ridge that, like a natural suspension bridge, is extended from the hill of Ankobar in the west to that of Lomee on the south, and forms the boundary between these bearings of the upper portion of the Dinkee valley.
In two or three places I noticed that the otherwise narrow ridge spread out into little flats of about fifty yards across. As we passed the first of these, a small heap of stones, surmounted by a rude wooden cross, indicated to the passer-by that a church was hidden in the grove of kolqual and wild fig-trees that occupied the limited expansion. Each of Mr. Scott’s servants most reverentially dismounted to kiss the topmost stone, on which the cross stood. A little beyond, the road again contracted, and from the back of my mule, by merely turning my face, I could look into either valley on my right or left hand. Along this path we proceeded cautiously in Indian file, passing in one place the site of a devastated grove and ruined church; the scarping effects of constant land-slips on either side the ridge having in this position defeated all efforts of man to prevent the destruction of the sacred edifice, its site having been gradually removed during the process of denudation which is so rapidly altering the physical features of this country. The eastern face of the hill of Ankobar was now before us, the head of a subordinate valley scooped out of that side of the ridge only intervening. Having doubled this by continuing along our level road, we scrambled over a rough precipitous ascent, fortunately only of a few yards in extent, and entered a narrow lane or street between high banks, on which stood a number of straggling thatched round houses, each in its own enclosure. The road appeared to have been worn into a hollow way by the constant passage of man and beast during the many reigns since this hill became a royal residence.
Tradition asserts, and I believe Abyssinian recorded history affirms, that the first occupier of this commanding height was a Galla Queen called Anko, and by the addition of “bar”(door) to her name, native philologists (and they are very curious in these matters) have determined the designation of this town to be, significant of its having been the gate or door of Anko. This is rather an unfinished interpretation, as it omits to tell us what it secured; and were it not that we had the circumstantial evidence that the town stands upon the height commanding the only road leading from the low countries to the table land of Shoa, we should be at a loss for the real reason of its very apt name, which it must be allowed to be when that circumstance of situation is known.
After threading our way for at least a quarter of an hour through a labyrinth of high over-hanging banks, topped by ragged hedges, or grey moss-covered palings of splintered fir, we at length reached a large oblong or rather oval building, for one continuous circuit of a wattled wall offered no angles to determine sides. This was covered by an ample straw roof, with far-projected eaves, and having two bright red earthenware pots at the extremities of the crest of the roof, as a finish to the whole. This was the British Residency, and gladly we dismounted to meet our expected friends. Turning aside the green Chinese blind, which, suspended from the top of the entrance, was sufficient to exclude the beggars, and yet admitted some light into the interior, we gained admittance; and having passed through a large central apartment, where mules, horses, and sheep were stabled, I was conducted into a clay-plastered apartment, about six feet by nine, between the inner and outer walls of the building, where I found two gentlemen belonging to the Mission, Dr. Roth, the naturalist, and Mr. Bernatz, the artist, just about to commence their breakfast.
Greetings and congratulations were exchanged, and numberless inquiries made about the cause of my detention at Farree. A host of idle Abyssinian servants gathered around, questioning in like manner the native servants of Mr. Scott, and it was sometime before we settled down to partake of the good things which Constantine, the Portuguese cook, during the bustle of our arrival, had taken the opportunity to prepare.
Mr. Scott and I having determined to hurry on the same day to Angolahlah, fresh mules were ordered to be ready by the time I had sufficiently indulged in the luxury of something like English fare, which, for the first time for nearly three months, was now placed before me.
When we started, Mr. Scott volunteered to be guide, and so excused his servants from being dragged on such an unnecessary journey. Having got through the town of Ankobar, we began to descend, progressing more rapidly after passing some distance along the side of a high stockade surrounding the royal residence, which occupied the whole summit of the partially detached western extremity of the ridge on which Ankobar stands. The descent continued for nearly half an hour, the road being exceedingly rough and stony, until we came to the edge of the little river Airahra, flowing into the Hawash, the stream of which by its denudation has cut from the table-land of Tchakkah, the long narrow ridge which we passed along during the ride to Aliu Amba.
Formerly the Airahra flowed into the Barissa, and was a tributary therefore of the mighty Nile; but a singular natural operation has effected an alteration in its course, and it now flows in an opposite direction. Physical geography, I think, does not describe a similar character of country as the surface of the table land of Abyssinia presents, or the relative position it occupies in consequence with surrounding countries. These must both be treated of before I can give the reader the manner in which nature is gradually effecting what former Abyssinian monarchs threatened to do, the turning of the waters of the Nile from the direction of Egypt and the north, to the Indian Ocean and the East. A mighty operation which is most certainly going on, and which can be demonstrated, will in the end drain the northern portion of Abyssinia, by a communication being opened between the river Hawash and the Abi, or Bruce’s Nile. In this place, however, any description would fail in the effect of conveying a clear idea to the mind of the reader; but in a future page, when more familiar with the country he is now travelling over with me, I will endeavour fully to explain the manner in which this curious process of natural engineering is being carried out.