I wrote a few lines, upon my arrival here two days ago; but as the post was upon the point of starting, I could not do more than state that the rumours which had reached us down below respecting the King of Tigré were untrue, and that that monarch was at present pursuing a course of masterly inactivity. I will now, therefore, resume my letter at the point where my last regular communication ended—namely, at the station of Sooro, in the pass leading to this place. I do not apologise for making my description of this pass very detailed, for at present the whole interest of the expedition centres in the passage of the troops and baggage from Zulla to this point, and I feel sure that any particulars which may enable the public to picture to themselves the country through which our soldiers are marching will be read with keen interest. From Sooro to Rayray Guddy, the next regular station, is, according to the official report, twenty-eight miles; but I am convinced, and in this opinion I am borne out by every officer I have spoken to, that thirty-three would be much nearer the fact. Indeed, in every march up here the official distances are a good deal under the truth. But, indeed, the officers of the exploring force appear to have seen everything through rose-coloured spectacles. At Zulla they reported plenty of water, and they found, a short way further, an abundance of forage, which no one else has been able to discover before or since. It was on the strength of these reports of forage and water that the baggage-animals were hurried forward. I am not blaming the officers who made the reports. They simply acted as it is the nature of explorers to act. Every father thinks his own child a prodigy. Every discoverer believes that the country, or river, or lake which he has been the first to report on, is a country, river, or lake such as no man ever saw before. Over and over again this has happened, and disastrous consequences have ere now arisen from the persistent use by explorers of these rose-coloured spectacles. It is not more than four or five years—to give one example out of a thousand—since Dr. Livingstone reported that he had discovered a magnificent navigable river in Eastern Africa, with rice, cotton, and corn abounding upon its banks, and a climate beyond reproach. In consequence of this report the “Universities Mission” was organised, and a band of missionaries, headed by their bishop, Mackenzie, started. After months of struggle they arrived at the place of disembarkation, having already discovered that their noble stream was, at a good average time of year, about three feet deep. There they set up their mission; there, one by one, these noble fellows died of want and of fever, victims of an explorer’s rose-coloured spectacles. After that we must not grudge the few hundred mules that have fallen a sacrifice to the want of springs and forage which could be seen only through the glasses of the chiefs of the exploring party.