behind the curtain of sky-blue rock, where lies the not yet "combusted"
village of Tajurrah. [19] We lay down to rest with the light of day, and
had the satisfaction of closing our eyes upon a fair though captious
breeze.

On the morning of the 31st October, we entered the Zayla Creek, which
gives so much trouble to native craft. We passed, on the right, the low
island of Masha, belonging to the "City of the Slave Merchant,"--
Tajurrah,--and on the left two similar patches of seagirt sand, called
Aybat and Saad el Din. These places supply Zayla, in the Kharif or hot
season [20], with thousands of gulls' eggs,--a great luxury. At noon we
sighted our destination. Zayla is the normal African port,--a strip of
sulphur-yellow sand, with a deep blue dome above, and a foreground of the
darkest indigo. The buildings, raised by refraction, rose high, and
apparently from the bosom of the deep. After hearing the worst accounts of
it, I was pleasantly disappointed by the spectacle of white-washed houses
and minarets, peering above a long low line of brown wall, flanked with
round towers.

As we slowly threaded the intricate coral reefs of the port, a bark came
scudding up to us; it tacked, and the crew proceeded to give news in
roaring tones. Friendship between the Amir of Harar and the governor of
Zayla had been broken; the road through the Eesa Somal had been closed by
the murder of Masud, a favourite slave and adopted son of Sharmarkay; all
strangers had been expelled the city for some misconduct by the Harar
chief; moreover, small-pox was raging there with such violence that the
Galla peasantry would allow neither ingress nor egress. [21] I had the
pleasure of reflecting for some time, dear L., upon the amount of
responsibility incurred by using the phrase "I will;" and the only
consolation that suggested itself was the stale assurance that