On the 8th, at three quarters past six o’clock in the morning, we left Dippebaha, and, at seven, had two small villages on our left; one on the S. E. distant two miles, the other on the south, one mile off. They are called Wora, and so is the territory for some space on each side of them; but, beyond the valley, all is Shahagaanah to the root of Lamalmon. At a quarter past seven, the village of Gingerohha was three miles on our right; and we were now ascending Lamalmon, through a very narrow road, or rather path, for it scarcely was two feet wide any where. It was a spiral winding up the side of the mountain, always on the very brink of a precipice. Torrents of water, which in winter carry prodigious stones down the side of this mountain, had divided this path into several places, and opened to us a view of that dreadful abyss below, which few heads can (mine at least could not) bear to look down upon. We were here obliged to unload our baggage, and, by slow degrees, crawl up the hill, carrying them little by little upon our shoulders round these chasms where the road was intersected. The mountains grow steeper, the paths narrower, and the breaches more frequent as we ascend. Scarce were our mules, though unloaded, able to scramble up, but were perpetually falling; and, to increase our difficulties, which, in such cases, seldom come single, a large number of cattle was descending, and seemed to threaten to push us all into the gulf below. After two hours of constant toil, at nine o’clock we alighted in a small plain called Kedus, or St Michael, from a church and village of that name, neither beast nor man being able to go a step further. The plain of St Michael, where we now were, is at the foot of a steep cliff which terminates the west side of Lamalmon. It is here perpendicular like a wall, and a few trees only upon the top of the cliff. Over this precipice flow two streams of water, which never are dry, but run in all seasons. They fall into a wood at the bottom of this cliff, and preserve it in continual verdure all the year, tho’ the plain itself below, as I have said, is all rent into chasms, and cracked by the heat of the sun. These two streams form a considerable rivulet in the plain of St Michael, and are a great relief both to men and cattle in this tedious and difficult passage over the mountain. The air on Lamalmon is pleasant and temperate. We found here our appetite return, with a chearfulness, lightness of spirits, and agility of body, which indicated that our nerves had again resumed their wonted tone, which they had lost in the low, poisonous, and sultry air on the coast of the Red Sea. The sun here is indeed hot, but in the morning a cool breeze never fails, which increases as the sun rises high. In the shade it is always cool. The thermometer, in the shade, in the plain of St Michael, this day, was 76°, wind N. W.