Henty George Alfred
The March to Magdala
The exploring-party went forward to Attegrat, a place of some size, about thirty-five miles from here. They went by one route and returned by another. One line was rather more mountainous than the other, but both are, I hear, quite practicable, and water, forage, and wood were found in abundance. At Attegrat a large fair was going on, and very large quantities of cattle, sheep, goats, ponies, and mules, together with grain, chillies, honey, &c., were exposed for sale. The appearance of the escort of cavalry excited the greatest curiosity, and the party were almost mobbed as they walked through the fair. On parts of the route they passed through enormous flights of locusts, which the people were endeavouring to frighten away from their fields by beating drums and pieces of metal together, and by lighting great fires. The locusts abound everywhere here; not a bush which has not half-a-dozen of these insects, hardly a rock without one or two crawling over it. The natives say they have not had so many for years, and that the crops have been very greatly damaged by them. The only things which benefit by them are the monkeys and birds, both of which feed upon them. The natives themselves also eat them to a certain extent. The method of preparation is as follows: A large hole is made in the ground. This is lined smoothly with clay. A large fire is lighted in this, and when this has burnt down the ashes are scraped out, the hole is filled with locusts, and covered up with clay. When the insects are sufficiently baked they are taken out and pounded into a fine powder, which is eaten mixed with rice or flour. At Attegrat the expedition found blocks of salt used as the medium of exchange: we have not seen any in this part of the country. In the fair they also saw some really warm cloths of native manufacture. This is important, as, if the supply turns out to be abundant, it will save the expense of bringing warm clothing for the native troops from England. Indeed, warm clothes appear to me to be a most unnecessary portion of our enormous baggage. The weather by day, even at this the coldest time of year, and upon one of the most elevated parts of our journey, is never cold enough for warm clothing. At night men require an extra blanket for warmth, and this they might wrap round them over their greatcoat upon unusually cold nights. On Christmas-eve the general inspected the troops, who performed several manœuvres. He left on Christmas-day at three o’clock, four hours after the return of the expeditionary force, and having had a conversation of some length with Colonels Merewether and Phayre. One good result among the many brought about by the general’s visit here will be, that we shall now have some little attention paid to health. A medical officer had been appointed as sanitary officer, but his appointment, for any good it did, might as well have never been made. It was not that this officer failed in his duty, or that there was no need for his services; on the contrary, the state of the watering arrangements was disgraceful, the native troops washing, &c. in the pools above those from which the drinking-water was taken. The water certainly has to filter through the peat before it reaches the other pools, but that is little satisfaction. It is true that this was against orders, but the number of sentries posted was quite insufficient, or else they winked at the proceedings of their fellow-soldiers. I myself rode past half-a-dozen times, and never without seeing native soldiers washing on the edge of the pool. The latrine arrangements connected with the 10th Native Infantry hospital were also simply scandalous. But worst of all was the state of the pass, dotted with dead baggage-animals in every stage of decomposition, and the stench from which was almost overpowering. The sanitary officer had pointed out these evils, and had applied for power to take on a few natives to burn the carcasses in the pass. This suggestion, however, had been passed over as absurd, and he might as well have been in Bombay. Nothing whatever was done. General Staveley, however, restored this officer to his proper place, and gave him authority to take on the natives and burn the dead animals, which, had nothing been done, were offensive enough to have created the worst epidemic among the advancing troops. Other medical officers have been appointed to take bands of coolies and clear the different stages of this pass. The horse-disease still continues very bad. Of the six horses brought up by the general and the members of his staff, four were taken ill the day after his arrival here. They do not, however, appear to have taken it in a virulent form, and will, I hope, get over it. Yesterday being Christmas-day was of course kept with all honour; that is to say, with such honours as could be paid. It was hard to believe it was Christmas-day, especially among native troops; to them, of course, it was no festival. The day was fine and hot – the thermometer 75° in the shade, but very hot where there was no shelter. I fastened a large bunch of fir and of a plant somewhat resembling myrtle to my tent-pole, and two or three of the other tents were similarly decorated. One of the engineer officers had quite a triumphal arch of green erected before his tent. Large circular arbours were built up by the 10th Native Infantry and by the 3d Cavalry, to serve as shelter from the wind while they sat round the fire after dinner. I was invited by the 3d Native Cavalry to take my Christmas dinner with them, and a capital dinner it was under the circumstances. Two huge bunches of fir were fastened to the tent-poles, the table was formed of the lids of packing-cases, and we sat round upon boxes and chairs of every height and make. Here was a man on a seat so low that his chin hardly appeared above the table; next to him one perched up so high that his knees were on a level with his plate. Nor were the fittings of the table less various. It was the camp rule that everyone should bring his own plates, knives, forks, and glasses. Some of us therefore fed off tin, some off crockery, some off enamelled iron. Some drank from glasses, some from pewter-pots. The only uniformity was in the bottle of champagne placed before each diner. Most of us would, I think, have preferred beer; but there was not a bottle left in the camp, and the champagne before us had been hoarded for this sacred occasion. The dinner was various. Mutton and guinea-fowl; spur-fowl and venison; but, whatever we ate, everyone present religiously took a piece of the joint of roast beef. It was the only reminder of the occasion. I need not say how heartily each joined in the toast of “All friends at home.”
I start this afternoon on my way down the pass again to Zulla, and shall carry this letter down to post there, as the ridiculous arrangements to which I have before alluded still prevail. A native still creeps up and down the pass with a bag on his back, and takes his four or five days to do the seventy miles, whereas two relays of men on mules or ponies would bring the bag down in fifteen hours easily. As it is, no one knows whether they will be in time to catch a post or not. In fact, it is a pure haphazard proceeding.
Zulla, Annesley Bay, January 2d, 1868.
I have been now three days back in Zulla, which is literally crowded with troops. In respect to the pass, nothing could be more surprising than the change which has taken place in the road during the fortnight which has elapsed since I first passed up. This is due to the way in which the sappers and miners, under officers of the Royal Engineers, and the advanced companies of the Beloochees, under Major Hogg, have worked. The latter are at work in the valley below the Rayray Guddy pass, and here they make very nearly a mile of road a day, along which artillery might be taken without difficulty. It is wonderful to see the change which they have effected, and the hearty way in which they work. Not less surprising is the change which the sappers and miners have effected in the Sooro Gorge. When I last rode up it, it was, as I described it, all but impracticable for loaded animals. One had to clamber over a huge boulder here, to scramble through between two others there. It was a really difficult proceeding, and loaded camels were unable to get through the narrow places. Now all this is changed. A path winds here and there among the rocks, down which I was able to ride my horse without the smallest difficulty. The worst part of the journey was the passage of the thirty-three miles between Rayray Guddy and Sooro, without water, except a bucket of pea-soup-coloured stuff at Guinea-fowl Plain for the animals. It is proposed to sink more wells at this point, to put up some pumps, and to establish a small commissariat dépôt, in order that troops may break their march there. As we rode down this dry parched valley for thirty miles, occasionally meeting detachments of weary men, who asked us pitifully how far it was to water, we could not help thinking of one of Colonel Phayre’s reports, in which he stated, “From Sooro to Senafe, about thirty miles more, water never fails.” The fact being, not one single drop is to be found in the thirty miles above Sooro, save at one muddy well.
At Koomaylo I found an astonishing change. The thorn-trees which had lined the bottom of the valley had been all cut down; a large space had been cleared as a camping-ground for troops as they march through; fresh wells have been sunk, and there are some of the American pumps at work, discharging a stream of clear water, which, flowing through a succession of tubs, enables the animals to be watered in one quarter the time formerly occupied. These pumps, which are called “the Douglas pitcher-spout pump,” are certainly admirable machines. When I had first heard of their arrival, and of the principle of their construction, I had not thought it possible that they could be used in such ground as this. They consist of a number of thin iron tubes like gas-pipes, screwing into each other, the lowest one terminating in a sharp spike of slightly bulbous form, so that, being thicker than the rod itself, it only touches the soil through which it is driven at that point, thus greatly diminishing the friction and resistance. On to the pipe, at about four feet from its upper end, is screwed a block of iron, which can be shifted as the rod gradually descends. A heavy weight of iron, with a hole through it, is put on the rod above this block, and to this weight ropes are attached working through pulleys placed on the top of the rod four feet higher. Two men pull these ropes, and the weight rises, and then falls, acting as a rammer upon the anvil of iron below. In this manner the whole rod is driven down, fresh lengths being added as required, and then a pump is established without the labour of sinking a well. The whole thing is simple in the extreme, and admirably adapted for clay or gravel soils. It could, however, hardly be expected to be successful in the bed of a torrent, where the gravel is mixed with blocks of stone of every size, as it is evident that a hollow pipe could not be driven through solid rock. The tube, however, in nine cases out of ten, pushes any obstacle aside, and reaches the required depth. It is intended to arrange a series of troughs, so that the animals may be enabled to drink upon their arrival without the weary hour of waiting which they have now to go through. Indeed, it is a wonder that serious accidents have not occurred owing to the eagerness with which the maddened animals struggle and fight to get to the water. At Koomaylo we found two companies of the 33d regiment. They have since been joined by another, and the three marched last night on their way to Sooro. Three other companies of the same regiment marched from here this morning, and will at once follow their advanced wing, while the head-quarters and remaining companies go on to-morrow. There is also a battery of the Royal Artillery at Koomaylo, that is, the guns, and a portion of the men are there, the horses and drivers having been sent up to Senafe to be clear of the disease. I met them at Sooro, and the animals were then all in splendid condition, and not a single horse or baggage-animal was as yet affected. Great as I had found the changes at other points along the line, the alterations were as nothing to those which had taken place at Zulla. The harbour contained more than double the number of vessels that were here before. It is probable that hardly a great commercial port in the world contains such a fine fleet of steamers and sailing-transports as are now lying off this place, of which no one had ever heard six months ago. The camp, too, was so altered that I had the greatest difficulty in finding the tent I was in search of, although it stood precisely where I left it three weeks since. But the place, which then contained under twenty tents, can now count ten times that number. The 33d are encamped to the right of the landing-place, at a quarter of a mile distant. General Staveley and his staff have moved their tents from the spot where they before stood, in the very centre of the dust and din of the place, to a little beyond the 33d lines, where General Napier’s tents are also pitched. The harbour is full of troops, who are clamouring for carriage to enable them to get on. The Scinde Horse are landing, as are the 3d Native Infantry. The 25th Native Infantry and her Majesty’s 4th Foot are there, as are artillery batteries and mountain trains, as are mules and horses innumerable, and a bewildering amount of stores. Very large quantities of these latter are now being forwarded to the front, and 3000 of the little cattle and donkeys of the natives have been engaged upon the service. The price paid is two and a quarter dollars per bag, and each bullock carries two bags, some of the smaller donkeys taking one each. The natives are responsible for any loss of stores, but up to the time I left Senafe not one single bag had gone astray. These animals are rather a nuisance to meet going down the pass. Our own mules go in strings, one tied behind the other, and the drivers, if one meets them, endeavour, as far as possible, to make room for an officer to pass. The natives, on the contrary, drive their animals in a herd before them, occupy the whole width of the track, and make no effort whatever to get their cattle out of the way. It is in vain shouting and being angry. The Shohos regard one with placid indifference, and you must push your horse into a thorn-thicket or up a rock to get out of their way. If you happen to overtake one of these native herds in rather a narrow place, it is still more provoking, for there is nothing to do for it but to follow patiently in their train for perhaps half-a-mile, half smothered in the dust they raise, until the valley opens, and you are able to leave the path, and get past them among the stones and scrub. These oxen are very small, but extremely hardy. There is nothing for them in the way of forage all the way up. All they have to eat are a few leaves from the bushes, and such handfuls of grass as their masters may get for them by climbing the sides of the hills, and yet they arrive at Senafe in good condition and without signs of distress, with their skin smooth, and their eyes bright. This accession of stores at Senafe is a great assistance. It is an addition to our stock there, and it is a great relief to the transport corps to be able to continue their regular work of forwarding regiments, and stores for present consumption of man and beast. The transport train is now doing its work very much better; but I shall have more remarks to make upon them in my next. Brigadier-general Collings started yesterday to take the command at Senafe, and I expect to find that very material changes have, in consequence, taken place there. Brigadier-general Schneider has arrived here, and will take the command at this landing-place.
The great event of to-day is the arrival of Sir Robert Napier, whose ship, her Majesty’s steam-ship Octavia, Captain Colin Campbell, was signalled as about to enter the harbour early this morning. The anchor was dropped at about half-past ten, and General Staveley and the heads of departments went off at once to see him. He is to disembark this evening. As it is war-time, there was no salute or demonstration upon the arrival of the ship.
Zulla, Jan. 6th.
It is only after a ride or two round camp that one sees how very great are the changes which have taken place in the last three weeks. I do not know that anywhere in the world could more objects of various interest, more life and movement and bustle, be found than in a couple of hours’ ride through this camp. Start we from the head of the bunder– in England called pier; but here everything has its Indian name. The bunder has, since I last wrote, been lengthened a few yards, and has been widened at the end to a width of fifteen or twenty yards. On one side, too, wooden piles have been driven down, so that the great landing barges can lie safely alongside and discharge. It will be a great thing when it is finished in the same way all round the pier-head. Not very pleasant are one’s first steps upon Abyssinian soil, for the pier is made of great rough pieces of rock and pumice-stone, painful to walk upon, and utterly destructive to boots. In spite of this the pier-head is crowded. The hour at which we start upon our ride is daybreak, and from daybreak until eight o’clock bathing is allowed from the pier, as also from five to seven in the evening. Here we have a number of figures, some dressing, some undressing, some picking their way painfully over the stones to their clothes, others in the act of plunging into the water, which is at high tide seven feet deep. Around, the sea is dotted with heads, many of which we recognise and address. Here is a quartermaster-general, there a colonel of infantry, next to whom is a drummer-boy, and beyond a dozen privates. There is no distinction of rank here. Everyone picks out the softest stone he can find to sit upon, and cares nothing whether his next neighbour be a general officer or a full private. We pick our way as well as we can across this bit of rough ground and through the groups of bathers, and then at ten yards from the head of the pier we come upon smoother ground. Here is a line of rails, and the surface has been smoothed by spreading sand over it, an improvement which has only been completed two or three days since. Before, a walk down the bunder was certain destruction to any but the most iron-shod pair of boots. By the side of the bunder, where the rail commences, a large barge is lying. She has just come alongside, and fifty or sixty mules and ponies, her cargo, are looking over her rail with excited eyes and restless inquiring ears at the bustle on the quay, and at this land, which, although they know it not, is destined to be the grave of many of them. On the pier, awaiting their arrival, is one of the indefatigable officers of the transport train. He has with him a couple of men. A long gangway is laid from the barge, which is much higher than the pier, down on to the stones; on this are thrown some gunny-bags, and then the animals, some coming readily enough, others resisting strenuously, snorting and struggling, are led down. As they reach the land their head-ropes are tied together in fours, and they are sent off with their drivers to wait at the end of the bunder until all are landed. It is not a long operation. Ten minutes or so, and then an inspector takes them off, first to the watering-troughs and then to the lines. Opposite the landing-barge, on a vacant spot on the pier, a distilling apparatus is at work. This machine, I believe, partly supplies the sailing-ships, and also the wants of the fatigue-parties at work on the pier. Next to the barge lie two native boats discharging stores, which a fatigue-party are loading into the trucks, under the direction of the officers of the quartermaster’s or commissariat departments. As soon as the trucks are loaded, a party of Soumalis seize them and push them along the track to the yard, shouting their universal chorus as they do so. Next to the native craft unloading are a number of boats belonging to the ships in harbour, and which are either supplied to one of the departments, or are waiting while their skippers are on shore. On the opposite side of the pier the water is more shallow, and boats never come in here, but it is by no means empty at present, for there are a couple of hundred men bathing all along – less adventurous spirits, who do not care for the plunge into deep water, or for walking over pumice-stones with naked feet.
When we get to the end of the bunder we mount our horses, which our gorrawallahs have been holding, and we follow the line of rails. As soon as we are fairly ashore, we find great piles of stores lying by the rails. These belong to the land transport stores. Hundreds of great cases, each containing four Otago mule-saddles. Piles of Bombay pads and of camel-saddles. Their other stores are sent up to their own lines, a quarter of a mile farther; but the heavy saddles have not been sent there, as the line has only been opened to that point during the last two days, and it is much easier to bring the mules down and to saddle them here than it is to take the heavy cases on farther. There is a saddling-party at work now. It consists of a fatigue-party of artillery, directed by an officer of the transport corps. A Chinese carpenter opens the cases. Two of the men lift the contents out, and cut the lashings which secure each separate article of the fittings together. Others stand round and fit the saddles together – no easy task, for they are extremely complicated. This, however, is not of so much consequence as it would otherwise be, for, once put together, they do not require much subsequent unstrapping. Others then put the saddles and bridles on to the mules, some of which object most strongly to the operation, pull back violently, turn round and round as fast as the man with the saddle approaches, and lash out with a steady power which, exerted in any other way, would be highly satisfactory. In vain the soldiers try to keep them steady. In vain pat, coax, strike, and swear. In vain they strap up one of the fore-legs. Some of the beasts are quite unmanageable, and are only subdued by strapping up a leg, and then keeping them going round and round upon the other three until quite exhausted. The cases of the saddlery are broken up, and spread out upon the ground to pile bags of rice or grain upon – no unnecessary precaution, for a high tide the other night wetted an immense quantity of hay, and the stores have been since shifted farther inland. The engineers had constructed a sort of sand-wall to prevent the recurrence of such an event; but they calculated without their host. They fortified against the enemy in front, but made no account of him in the rear. The consequence was that in the heavy rain of Saturday night the water came rushing down from behind, and being prevented flowing into the sea by this dam, again created a small flood, but this time of fresh water, in the commissariat yard. The commissariat yard when I was last here stood where the transport yard now stands, but it is now shifted more to the left. The reason of this was that the commissariat stores, the bundles of compressed hay and the bags of rice and grain, are not too heavy to be carried ashore by the natives, while the heavy cases of the transport corps necessarily were put in the cars. The commissariat stores are therefore principally landed in native boats, which come into three-foot water, and from which lines of wading Soumalis bear them to land. The heavier stores, such as barrels of rum and ghee, are of course landed on the bunder and brought up on the trucks. Everywhere about the end of the pier is bustle. Here are a party of Madras coolies moving stores. There are a hundred mules just starting with provisions for the front. Here come a detachment of one of the regiments to take charge of some of their baggage just being landed. Everywhere an energetic officer of the various departments directing the operations. We now ride on. Leaving the line of rails we turn to the right, bearing gradually away from the sea. The first group of tents we come upon are those of the officers of the land transport. They will not be there long, however, for they have orders to shift over to the other side, where the lines of their animals are five minutes’ walk away, and at the extreme right of the camp. Did these officers’ duties lie principally at their lines, there would be some reason for this; but as it is, they are either on the bunder landing horses, or else saddling down by the shore. The duties of looking after the animals in their lines have of course to be generally supervised by an officer from each division, but are under the charge of English inspectors, who are sergeants in cavalry or line regiments. The lines, being to leeward of the camp, are constantly enveloped in a cloud of blinding dust, so thick that one cannot see fifty yards. To live in such an atmosphere is next to impossible, especially when delicately scented by the odour of the three or four thousand mules, ponies, and oxen, to say nothing of the native attendants close at hand. The former spot where they were encamped was only five minutes’ walk distant, and to insist upon these officers living and working close by their lines is about as reasonable as an order would be for the officers of the Life Guards to sleep in their stables. I am convinced that General Schneider will have to revoke his order, for it will be simply impossible to keep books or accounts in a dust which would be two inches thick in five minutes upon everything; and although an officer’s comfort or health may be a very trifling matter, anything which might be an obstacle to his returning the necessary number of reports and statements will be certain to be considered.1 Riding through the transport officers’ lines, we come upon a line of tents occupied by the medical staff. Then comes a gap, and then we enter the lines of the European regiments, at present occupied by portions of the 33d and 4th infantry and artillery. Its appearance bears little resemblance to that presented by a regiment under canvas at home. The tents are of an entirely different shape; they are single-poled tents, and are perhaps fifteen feet square. They have canvas walls of nearly six feet high, so that one can stand upright anywhere. Above the tent itself is a cover, which extends over it and projects three feet beyond the walls, making the tent double over the roof, and forming an awning around it. About eight inches is left between the two roofs for the circulation of air. These tents are in their way perfect, but they are extremely heavy, and will be left here, and the troops will take up with them tents known as native “routies” – I do not guarantee the spelling of this or any other native word – which I shall describe hereafter. Not less than the tents do the men differ from the European standard. The gray suits of karkee – a sort of stout jean – and the ugly helmets of the same material, look like anything rather than the garb of the British soldier. Then, too, the arrangement of the camp looks unfamiliar, for the tents are placed far asunder. This is necessitated by the great length of the ropes of the tent. Here, too – strange sight in an English camp – interspersed among the tents are queer bowers of shrubs, covered with gunny-bags, old sacks, and other odds and ends. Round these bowers squat swarthy figures scantily clothed. These are the camp-followers, the attendants on the British soldier; these their abodes. These men draw his water, pitch his tents, sweep out his camp – in fact, perform all the work which a soldier in England does for himself. In India the soldier is a valuable animal. He is valued at one hundred pounds, and is too costly to be risked by doing hard work in the sun. He is kept for fighting only, and it is very right that it should be so. It has been questioned whether it would not have been better to have brought soldiers direct from England, who are accustomed to rough it for themselves. There is much to be said upon the subject, to which I shall some day revert, but at present I am inclined to think that in this respect the authorities have judged rightly, for judging by the 102° which the thermometer marked here in the shade on New Year’s-day, we shall have a more than Indian heat – that is, those down upon this plain will – in the middle of summer, and although the heat in the interior will probably be nothing to what it will be here, there can be no doubt that the less men are exposed to it the better. But we must continue our ride.
Just behind the European lines, that is, between them and the sea, is a line of tents, some of which are of large size, and by the side of one of these the British ensign is flying. These are the tents of the head-quarters staff. We turn our backs on this and gallop across the European lines, that is, inland. There is an unoccupied space of perhaps four hundred yards, and then we come upon a camp of quite different aspect from the last. Here the tents are ranged in two lines, and are placed quite close together, that is, with not more than three or four yards between them. The neat and orderly appearance of these lines of tents shows to all the greater advantage after the straggling look of the European lines. These tents are routies. They are large double-poled tents, single, but lined with blue bunting. The tents, like the English bell-tents, reach nearly to the ground, with only a wall of about eighteen inches in height. The opening is at one end, and extends from the pole downwards. This is, for a climate like the present, a great drawback, for the opening is very large and cannot be closed. In a hot climate this would matter but little; but for a country with heavy dews and cold nights in winter, and with heavy downpours in the rainy season, it is a very serious disadvantage. Opposite the long line of the routies are the mess and officers’ tents. There are two regiments camped in these lines, or, more properly, portions of two regiments. The men on duty look more like England than the European troops had done, for they are all in their scarlet tunics and black trousers. It is only the headgear which is different. The 3d Native Infantry have blue puggaries round their forage-caps. The 25th Native Infantry have green. The 10th Native Infantry wear white puggaries, and the Sappers and Miners black, and this acts as an easily-distinguished mark between the various native regiments. They all wear the regulation tunic and trousers, but vary the puggary or cap-cover according to the taste of their commander. When I say they all wear the British uniform, I mean that the old sepoy regiments do so. Some of those who have only been admitted among the regular Indian army of late years, such as the Beloochees, wear quite different uniforms. I have omitted to state that in our ride between the 33d and Native Infantry camps, we passed through some artillery; but these, as well as the sappers and miners, and the ordnance commissary tents – which, with the telegraph, railway, and other departments, are pitched near the line of railway – I must reserve for another letter. We are only making a tour of the outside of the camp upon the present occasion. Riding on through the native infantry lines, and crossing a few hundred yards of open ground, we come to the bazaar, which is on the main road to Koomaylo. The bazaar is certainly not much to look at. Two or three dozen tents, composed of rough poles covered with matting, constitute it. As there are no windows to any of these establishments, it is unnecessary to state that there is no display of goods. There is an open doorway through which any intending purchaser enters, and asks for anything he desires. If it is kept there a box is opened and the article produced, if not he goes into the next shop. There is a guard of European soldiers at the entrance to the bazaar to keep order, and their services are not unfrequently called into requisition. During the last part of our ride we have fairly got into the dust, which hangs over Zulla in a sort of lurid cloud, and entirely shuts off all the view, even the nearest hills from the harbour. This dust is terrible. It fills the eyes, mouth, and nostrils, and equals the dust on the Champ de Mars in Paris, which I had hitherto considered unrivalled in the world. Sometimes the wind blows steadily, and then there is one great uniform swoop of dust; at other times it seems to lull for a while, and then from three or four spots a straight column ascends, such as burning piles of green wood upon a calm day might produce. These columns will remain stationary for three or four minutes, and then move rapidly along, and woe to the unfortunate tents over which they may pass, for they will make a clean sweep of every light object, and will leave three inches deep of sand on everything. In camp phraseology, these little whirlwinds are called devils. Passing from the bazaar, still moving as before in the arc of a circle, we come upon the railroad. The railroad has made far less progress in the last month than anything else here has done; at this rate it will not be near Koomaylo by next Christmas. I do not hesitate to say that ten English navvies would have done very much more in the same time; and as for the Army Works Corps, which we had in the Crimea, they would have half-finished it to Koomaylo. But this delay is due to no want of zeal on the part of those who have the direction of it, but simply a want of method, and of materials, which are, no doubt, somewhere on board ship, but cannot be got at. Just at this part we pass under some poles with a fine copper wire extending between them. This is the telegraph, which in a very short time will be open to Koomaylo, and thence will be pushed on in a week or so, for the wire is at all the stations along the line of march; and it would have been completed to Senafe by this time were it not that the poles have not come to hand, from some reason or other.
