Why a portion of the animal and vegetable creation should be annoyed by such scourges as the zimb and the locust; why parts of the world should be disordered by hurricanes and earthquakes; and why the whole of mankind should occasionally suffer from pestilential disorders, &c., are problems which Bruce need not be called on to solve. He has merely added one to a number of facts, concerning which all we know is, that they form parts of a wise and beneficent system which it is entirely beyond our power to comprehend.
Abyssinia being mountainous, lying in the middle of the torrid zone, and being subject also to the heavy periodical rains just described, the effect naturally produced by these three causes is, that the climates of the high and low country are totally different. The mountainous or high land of Abyssinia, which, it may be observed, is covered with long grass and destitute of wood, is at all times dry, cool, temperate, and healthy, and often even extremely cold; while the low, woody country, hazy, close, and insufferably hot, suffers severely from the sickness invariably produced by the excessive rains. Part of this low country, however, is not covered with wood; and, though equally hot, from being better ventilated, it is, generally speaking, healthy, while it is as productive as Egypt, and covered with the finest cattle of all descriptions. But where the waters of the rainy season, for want of descent, stagnate on the plains, these hot, swampy marshes produce no pasture, and are exceedingly unhealthy.
The little kingdom of Abyssinia, thus possessing within itself districts of such various climates, is inhabited by people of races and complexions as different as the soil and altitudes which they respectively occupy. In Abyssinia, royalty sits perched on the tops of the highest mountains; the great bulk of the community enjoy themselves on the sides of the hills, or in the wide, healthy plains; and in the hot, feverish, putrid atmosphere of the low woods, we meet that wretched, unfortunate being, the black, woolly-headed negro, who there, as in other regions of the world, finds his fellow-creature, pagan as well as Christian, a more cruel, cunning, relentless enemy than the savage beasts of the field.
THE SHANGALLA.
The Shangalla of Abyssinia, the ancient Cushites or Ethiopians, occupy a low, flat, sultry country, with a dark, rich soil, on an average about forty miles broad. They are pagans, black, naked, and inveterate enemies of the Abyssinian government. During the first half of the year, the Shangalla live under the friendly shade of their own trees, the lower branches of which they bend downward and fix into the ground, thus forming a verdant tent, which they cover on the outside with the skins of animals. For food and amusement they hunt the elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus, and those other large animals which either inhabit their woody territory, or are found wallowing in the sultry pools which it encloses; and hence it follows, that where the forest is the broadest, the jungle the thickest, and the stagnant ponds the largest, there the tribes of the Shangalla are the most numerous and formidable. In those parts of the country where the large animals do not abound, the Shangalla subsists on buffaloes, deer, boars, lions, and even serpents: in places where there is little wood, whole tribes of them eat the crocodile, fish, locusts, lizards, and ostriches; and thus they are still the rhizophagi, elephantophagi, acridophagi, struthiophagi, agriophagi, &c., which Ptolemy, in his account of the Ethiopians, has so accurately described.
During the summer, the Shangalla tribes subsist on the animals which they catch; but, in order to provide for the rainy season, they prepare their food in a very singular manner. Venison and other flesh is cut into strips or thongs about as broad as a man's thumb. These are dried in the sun until they resemble tough leather; even locusts are dried and packed in baskets for the winter's consumption. Before the rainy season commences, they strike, or, rather, uncover their tents, leaving the boughs still pinioned to the earth; and thus bidding adieu to the skeleton of their deserted village, they seek refuge in caves which are rudely excavated in gritty, sandy rocks, so soft that they are often made to contain several apartments. Soon after the rains subside, the high grass becomes dry, brown, and parched; and, being inconvenient to the Shangalla, they set fire to it. The flames rapidly extend over the country, and run down the ravines and gullies, in which, but a few weeks before, another element was seen rushing on its course!
The Shangalla have but one language, which has a highly guttural sound. They worship trees, serpents, the moon, planets, and stars in certain positions. They have, of course, many superstitions: for instance, a star passing near the horns of the moon denotes, they conceive, the approach of an enemy. They have priests, but only to defend them from evil spirits: to their good, benevolent spirits they fancy they may appeal without human assistance.
They are all archers from their infancy. Their bows, which are made of wild fennel, are usually long and thick, and so elastic that the same weapon is used in childish sports which afterward defends them when they grow up—the only difference being that whereas, when boys, they are obliged, from its length, to hold the bow horizontally, the being able to bend it vertically is, among the Shangalla, the admitted sign of manhood. As a sort of religious, or, rather, superstitious, offering, they place on their bow a ring or strip of every animal they kill; and when the bow, covered with these rude trophies, becomes too heavy to be used, they carefully preserve it.
The old Shangalla has always, therefore, a number of these weapons in his possession. From them he selects a favourite one to be buried with him, in order that, when he rises again, he may not be at a loss to defend himself from his enemies; for these poor people, as we shall soon learn, are so accustomed to enemies in this world, that they cannot conceive that even a future existence can be without them; and yet, rude and mistaken as their notions are, we must all admit that there is no one idea more deserving of respect—which more directly tends to civilize the human mind, making all men act towards each other as brothers, than a belief, however vague, in a state of future existence.