I now proceed to describe Attegrat. The most conspicuous building, as seen from our camp, is a detached sort of fortress, which looks like nothing so much as the castle of Bluebeard in a pantomime. It stands on a rising knoll, and consists of a square building of two stories high. Upon the top, and greatly overhanging each side, are four extraordinary-looking erections, like great dog-kennels or pigeon-cots, but which must be six or seven feet square. Almost the whole of these constructions project over the walls. What may be the use of these curious appendages to the tower, it is impossible to say. Next to this square tower stands a building as incongruous with it in its construction as it is possible to conceive. It is round, and has a high thatched roof, like a beehive. In addition to these main structures are several low sheds. The whole are enclosed in a high wall with a tower in it, underneath which is the gateway. The buildings are, no doubt, of stone, but they are all plastered over with mud, and look as if made of that material. As I have said, it is exactly one’s idea of Bluebeard’s castle, and one expects to see sister Anne waving her handkerchief out of one of the pigeon-cots at its summit. Certainly, if the gate were to open, and a stout figure in an immense pasteboard head, with a blue beard trailing upon the ground, and surrounded by a host of retainers also with big heads—which their chief would, of course, belabour occasionally with his staff—were to issue out, it would be in such admirable keeping with the place, that one would feel no astonishment. And yet this fortress has its history, and has stood its siege. It seems that the king or chief of this part of the country used seldom to live in his palace in the town itself, and his brother had his abode there. The brother took too much upon himself, and the jealousy and ire of the chief were aroused, and he ordered his brother to move out of the palace. This he did, but constructed at half-a-mile from the town this formidable castle. A disagreement arose, and the king attacked the castle, which he took after twenty hours’ siege. The castle is at present inhabited by the wife of a chief—I cannot say whether it is the same chief, for dates in Abyssinia are somewhat confused—who is a prisoner of Gobayze, King of Lasta. She has, I hear, taken a vow never to go out of doors while her husband is in captivity. Passing Bluebeard’s castle, it is a good half-mile to the town. At the right-hand on a rising rock is the church, which at a distance exactly resembles a Swiss châlet. It is, of course, surrounded by its wall, and within the enclosure grow some of the gigantic candelabra cactus. The church itself is more lofty than any I have yet seen. It is square, and is covered with a high thatched roof, the eaves of which project all round a considerable distance, and are supported by poles. Upon paying the usual fee, I was admitted in the