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.