THE FORTRESS OF ADEN.

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heaps of burned fragments, cliffs divided by deep fissures, and sharp, inaccessible cones, shooting upward like congealed flames from the rubbish of extinct craters. Some profane tourist speaks of Aden as resembling "Hell with the fires put out "a forcible simile, but very much to the point.

The town and fortress of Aden occupy the eastern peninsula, which was obtained from the Sultan of Lahadj, in the year 1839, partly by force and partly by treaty. The sum of $250,000 was paid to the Sultan by the East India Company, and the chieftain prudently sold what was already more than half wrested from him. Nevertheless, his son and successor did his best to have the bargain annulled, offering to refund. the money. This was of course rejected, and the place was for a number of years exposed to assaults from the Arabs of Lahadj, who were violently opposed to the sale, and to the establishment of a foreign colony on the coast. In spite of all precautions, robbery and murder were constantly perpetrated in the town and camp, until the fortifications on the land-side were completed. At present, there is tolerable security inside of the walls, but no one ventures many miles into the interior, unless attended by a strong armed escort. The harbor of Aden was known to the Romans, and its importance as a point of communication with the Indies seems to have been understood by the Turks, as there are still the remains of fortifications, which were constructed in the time of Solyman the Magnificent. The rock is about six miles in length, by from two to three in breadth, and its highest point is said to be 1,800 feet above the sea.

We ran in, along the western base, until on turning a small headland, we came upon a sheltered roadstead, in which half a

dozen English colliers and a number of small Arab craft lay at anchor. Here our own anchor dropped, and the ship was presently surrounded by boats rowed by half-naked blacks, some of whom made themselves entirely so, and commenced diving and splashing in the water, in the hope of getting shillings thrown over for them to fish up. A few long, onestory white houses and some heaps of Newcastle coal were scattered over a level piece of sand, at the head of a cove, and on a slight eminence towards the sea there was a group of cane huts, built in the Robinson Crusoe style. On this eminence there is a sunken battery, barely visible from the water, but said to be strong enough to sink any hostile vessel which may attempt to enter the harbor. A few days before our arrival, a French corvette, which had been cruising in the Indian Ocean, came into Aden with her guns ready shotted and manned, in full expectation of being fired upon, her com mander supposing that Louis Napoleon had commenced the invasion of England. I went ashore in a small boat, rowed by four Somali, or natives of the African coast, near Cape Guardafui. They appear to be a low variety of the Arab race, having dark brown skins, deep-set eyes, long, straight noses, and handsome, curling hair. They are less partial to muttonfat than the tribes on the Red Sea, but their long locks, which are naturally of a glossy blue-black hue, are dyed brown, or dark red, which imparts a goat-like, satyric air to their lank, nimble figures. Their language is a very bad Arabic, which I could with difficulty understand. No sooner had we landed than we were surrounded with the owners of donkeys and horses, anxious to hire them to as for a ride to Aden. The

RIDE TO THE OLD TOWN.

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old town lies on the other side of the Peninsula, and is not visible from the landing-place.

I took a horse and rode off at once, followed by the attendant native. The road, which is alternately of sand and macadamized volcanic cinders, follows the curve of the bay towards the northern end of the rock, where there is a strong gate, affording the only land communication with the sandy Arabian plains beyond. The natives are here obliged to give up their arms, owing to which precaution there are now but few crimes committed, in comparison with former years. As I rode along, between the black, scorched hills, and over the blistering sand, amid the almost insupportable glare of white noonday heat, my eyes turned to seek the dazzling blue and violet-green tints of the bay with an exquisite sense of relief. After two or three miles of this travel, the road turned inland, ascending the less abrupt slopes of the hills. I came at length to an artificial pass, about forty feet deep, by twenty wide, cut through the comb of the central ridge. It was closed by a ponderous double gateway, and the wall of circumvallation crossed by an arch. An Indian sepoy stood guard at the gate as I passed through. The road was filled with Arabs from the interior, bringing camel-loads of their produce to market, and with the mongrel natives of the African coast. Among the latter I readily distinguished the natives of Adel, the country lying south of Abyssinia. Major Harris, in his "Highlands of Ethiopia," calls them the "mild-eyed Adaël," and truly the expression of their features is feminine in its mildness and gentleness. They, as well as the natives of Aden, speak Arabic substituting only the Hindoostanee word "sahib" (master,) for the "Howadji" of Egypt.

Beyond the pass, the town of Aden came into view. It lies in a circular sandy basin, almost enclosed by black mountains of volcanic cinder. The buildings, which are spacious huts of wood, cane or mud, one story in height, are scattered over an extent of three quarters of a mile. The dry bed of a torrent which divides the town, proves that it sometimes rains at Aden, although I was informed that a heavy fall of rain does not occur more than once or twice a year. A new mosque, a small Christian Church, and a tall tower (built, I believe, for an observatory), were the only objects which distinguished themselves amid the mass of huts. There were two or three feeble attempts at cultivating small square yards of ground, and these pigmy specks of green gave life and cheerfulness to a scene which would otherwise have been depressing from its utter desolation. The only water on the peninsula is brackish and disagreeable, and is rarely used in an unmixed state. Tho Arabs bring a better kind from the opposite headland, for which they are paid at the rate of $1.50 per 100 gallons. The only things the place affords are fish and oysters; all other supplies must be imported. There are a number of

shops in the town, kept by Hindoo merchants, and there for the first time I saw the Parsee, or Fire-Worshipper, wearing the high chintz mitre which is peculiar to his sect.

I made the tour of the airy bamboo huts on the beach, where the 78th Regiment was quartered. The soldiers were lounging lazily in the shade, for since the wall of defence has been finished, their duties are very light. Some of the officers had brought their families with them, so that there was a small English community. The temperature of Aden ranges generally from 80° to 90°, with a maximum of 98, and a

minimum of 75°, being more equable than almost any other climate in the world. As there is no miasma from vegetable matter, it is considered healthy. An officer who had been stationed there more than four years, informed me that out of ninety men whom he brought with him, he had only lost two.

I rode through the bazaar in the native part of the town. The principal commodities were coarse cotton stuffs, dates, sugar, spices, and bad tobacco. I dismounted at a small coffee shop, but both the coffee and the narghileh were so intolerably bad that I gave them to the nearest native. A large crowd of Arabs collected around me, and the most intelligent of them asked me the news from Damascus and Stamboul. They said there had recently been war in Yemen, and that Shekh Hos sayn was then at the head of the tribes. Leaving the town, I returned to the western side of the peninsula and visited the Turkish Wall, which is the main defence of the place, on the land side. The Rock of Aden resembles that of Gibraltar in being attached to the main land by a narrow strip of sand, but instead of presenting an unbroken line of precipice, as at the latter place, the hills form a crescent, with the concave side toward the north. The points of this crescent are connected by a powerful wall, further protected by a deep moat and sloping glacis, and the heights at each end are crowned with batteries. Immense sums have been expended on these fortifications, which, though far from being completed, now afford perfect security against foes by land.

The value of Aden as a naval station has been much exaggerated. It has been called the "Gibraltar of the East," perhaps with reason, since, like Gibraltar, it can be of no use without a fleet. At present, it could scarcely be called im