"We had hitherto," says Bruce, "lost none of the beasts of carriage, but now were so impeded by streams, brooks, and quagmires, that we despaired of ever bringing one of them to join the camp. The horses and beasts of burden that carried the baggage of the army, and which had passed before us, had spoiled every ford, and we saw to-day a number of dead mules lying about the fields, the houses all reduced to ruins, and smoking like so many kilns: even the grass or wild oats, which were grown very high, were burned in large plots of a hundred acres together; everything bore the marks that Ras Michael was gone before, while not a living creature appeared in those extensive, fruitful, and once well-inhabited plains. An awful silence reigned everywhere around, interrupted only at times by thunder, now become daily, and the rolling of torrents, produced by local showers in the hills, which ceased with the rain, and were but the children of an hour. Amid this universal silence that prevailed all over this scene of extensive desolation, I could not help remembering how finely Mr. Gray paints the passage of such an army under a leader like Ras Michael: 'Confusion in his van with Flight combined, And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind.'" As they advanced, they passed a great number of dead mules and horses; "and the hyænas," says Bruce, "were so bold as only to leave the carcass for a moment and snarl, as if they regretted to see any of us pass alive." "Since passing the Nile," continues Bruce, "I found myself more than ordinarily depressed; my spirits were sunk almost to a degree of despondency, and yet nothing had happened since that period more than what was expected before. This disagreeable situation of mind continued at night while I was in bed. The rashness and imprudence with which I had engaged myself in so many dangers, without any necessity for so doing; the little prospect of my being ever able to extricate myself out of them, or even, if I lost my life, of the account being conveyed to my friends at home; the great and unreasonable presumption which had led me to think that, after every one that had attempted this voyage had miscarried in it, I was the only person that was to succeed; all these reflections upon my mind, when relaxed, dozing, and half oppressed with sleep, filled my imagination with what I have heard other people call the _horrors_, the most disagreeable sensation I ever was conscious of, and which I then felt for the first time. Impatient of suffering any longer, I leaped out of bed and went to the door of the tent, where the outward air perfectly awakened me, and restored my strength and courage. All was still; and at a distance I saw several bright fires, but lower down, and more to the right than I expected, which made me think I was mistaken in the situation of Karcagna. It was then near four in the morning of the 25th. I called up my companions, happily buried in deep