dence.

As we were conversing with Mek Nimmur's messengers through the medium of
Taher Noor, who knew their language, our attention was attracted by the
arrival of a tremendous swell, who at a distance I thought must be Mek
Nimmur himself. A snow-white mule carried an equally snow-white person,
whose tight white pantaloons looked as though he had forgotten his
trousers and had mounted in his drawers. He carried a large umbrella
to shade his complexion; a pair of handsome silver-mounted pistols
were arranged upon his saddle, and a silver-hilted curved sword, of the
peculiar Abyssinian form, hung by his side. This grand personage was
followed by an attendant, also mounted upon a mule, while several men
on foot accompanied them, one of whom carried his lance and shield. Upon
near approach he immediately dismounted and advanced toward us, bowing
in a most foppish manner, while his attendant followed him on foot with
an enormous violin, which he immediately handed to him. This fiddle was
very peculiar in shape, being a square, with an exceedingly long neck
extending from one corner. Upon this was stretched a solitary string,
and the bow was very short and much bent. This was an Abyssinian
Paganini. He was a professional minstrel of the highest grade, who had
been sent by Mek Nimmur to welcome us on our arrival.

These musicians are very similar to the minstrels of ancient times. They
attend at public rejoicings, and at births, deaths, and marriages of
great personages, upon which occasions they extemporize their songs
according to circumstances. My hunting in the Base country formed his
theme, and for at least an hour he sang of my deeds in an extremely loud
and disagreeable voice, while he accompanied himself upon his fiddle,
which he held downward like a violoncello. During the whole of his song
he continued in movement, marching with a sliding step to the front, and
gliding to the right and left in a manner that, though intended to be
graceful, was extremely comic. The substance of this minstrelsy was
explained to me by Taher Noor, who listened eagerly to the words, which
he translated with evident satisfaction. Of course, like all minstrels,
he was an absurd flatterer, and, having gathered a few facts for his
theme, he wandered slightly from the truth in his poetical description
of my deeds.

He sang of me as though I had been Richard Coeur de Lion, and recounted,
before an admiring throng of listeners, how I had wande