As Hadjji Abdullah, after it was dark, had brought me his own mule, it was stabled for the night in my house, and long before cock-crow the next morning we were carefully descending in the dark the step-like road of rough stones which leads from the top of Aliu Amba into the direct road to Ankobar. We were obliged to be very cautious in our progress along the steep slippery bank, and the edges of deep muddy pools produced by the first showers of the rainy season, which had fallen the few days previously, and had not at all improved the condition of the road. The sun had risen before we reached Ankobar. On this occasion it was unnecessary to go through that town; so having surmounted the long ridge in front, instead of continuing along it, we crossed directly over, leaving the little wooden cross and church of Goodis Gorgis (St. George) in its encircling grove of quolqual and wild fig-trees, on our left hand. The road we followed was exceedingly narrow, and fell very gradually in a prolonged sweep down the steep descent into the valley of the Airahra. Half way down is a broad terrace of considerable extent covered with immense boulders from the destruction of the ridge above, and which appears to be more rapidly denuded upon this face than upon the opposite one looking towards Aliu Amba. On a mound of the detached rocks and soil in this situation is built a church, dedicated to “Abbo,” the father, the only one I have ever seen so situated except the meeting-houses of the Tabibe sect, who do not pay that respect to ancient superstitions that still influences the other Christians of Abyssinia. A sufficient reason, however, accounts for its low elevation. At the commencement of the reign of the present Negoos, a great portion of the ancient grove of Abbo and its church still occupied the highest point of the ridge over which we had just come. The denuding operations of the conjointed actions of earthquakes and rainy seasons overcame every endeavour that was made to protect the sacred spot from being encroached upon, it having been one of the most ancient and most revered of the sacred edifices in Shoa. Annually large portions were precipitated into the valley of the Airahra; and ultimately the last portion of the walls of the church disappeared, after a violent convulsion of the earth, and a single line of trees, the remains of a once extensive grove, now marks its former site. The spot is still considered sacred, and so attached were the monks upon the establishment, to the ancient edifice, that, observing that the greater portion of the debris had fallen upon the terrace beneath, they determined to erect upon it a representative of the old church, although on so low an elevation compared with the numerous heights around.