In that memorable day when leaving the Samhar, or low flat parched country which forms the sea-coast of Abyssinia, and turning westward, we came to the foot of that stupendous mountain Taranta, which we were to pass in order to enter into the high land of Abyssinia, we saw the whole side of that prodigious mountain covered from top to bottom with this beautiful tree. We were entering a country where we daily expected wonders, and therefore, perhaps, were not so much surprised as might have been supposed at so extraordinary a sight. The fruit was ripe, and being carried on the top of the branches, the trees that stood thick together appeared to be covered with a cloth or veil of the most vivid crimson colour.

The first thing that presented itself was the first shoot of this extraordinary tree. It was a single stalk, about six inches measured across, in eight divisions, regularly and beautifully scolloped and rounded at the top, joining in the centre at three feet and a half high. Upon the outside of these scollops were a sort of eyes or small knots, out of every one of which came five thorns, four on the sides and one in the centre, scarce half an inch long, fragil, and of no resistance, but exceedingly sharp and pointed. Its next process is to put out a branch from the first or second scollop near the top, others succeed from all directions; and this stalk, which is soft and succulent, of the consistence of the aloe, turns by degrees hard and ligneous, and, after a few years, by multiplying its branches, assumes the form as in the second plate. It is then a tree, the lower part of which is wood, the upper part, which is succulent, has no leaves; these are supplied by the fluted, scolloped, serrated, thorny sides of its branches. Upon the upper extremity of these branches grow its flowers, which are of a golden colour, rosaceous, and formed of five round or almost oval petala; this is succeeded by a triangular fruit, first of a light green with a slight cast of red, then turning to a deep crimson, with streaks of white both at top and bottom. In the inside it is divided into three cells, with a seed in each of them; the cells are of a greenish white, the seed round, and with no degree of humidity or moisture about it, yet the green leaves contain a quantity of bluish watery milk, almost incredible.

Upon cutting two of the finest branches of a tree in its full vigour, a quantity of this issued out, which I cannot compute to be less than four English gallons, and this was so exceedingly caustic, that, though I washed the sabre that cut it immediately, the stain has not yet left it.

When the tree grows old, the branches wither, and, in place of milk, the inside appears to be full of powder, which is so pungent, that the small dust which I drew upon striking a withered branch seemed to threaten to make me sneeze to death, and the touching of the milk with my fingers excoriated them as if scalded with boiling water; yet I everywhere observed the wood-pecker piercing the rotten branches with its beak, and eating the insects, without any impression upon its olfactory nerves.

The only use the Abyssinians make of this is for tanning hides, at least for taking off the first hair. As we went west, the tree turned poor, the branches were few, seldom above two or three ribs, or divisions, and these not deeply indented, whereas those of Taranta had frequently eight. We afterwards saw some of them at the source of the Nile, in the cliff where the village of Geesh is situated, but, though upon very good ground, they did not seem to thrive; on the contrary, where they grew on Taranta it was sandy, stony, poor earth, scarce deep enough to cover the rock, but I suspect they received some benefit from their vicinity to the sea.

Some botanists who have seen the drawing have supposed this to be the euphorbia officinarum of LinnÆus; but, without pretending to great skill in this matter, I should fear there would be some objection to this supposition: First, on account of the flower, which is certainly rosaceous, composed of several petals, and is not campaniform: Secondly, That it produces no sort of gum, either spontaneously or upon incision, at no period of its growth; therefore I imagine that the gum which comes from Africa in small pieces, first white on its arrival, then turning yellow by age, is not the produce of this tree, which, it may be depended upon, produces no gum whatever.

Juba the younger is said, by Pliny, to have given this name to the plant, calling it after his own physician, brother to Musa physician to Augustus. We need not trouble ourselves with what Juba says of it, he is a worse naturalist and worse historian than the Nubian geographer.