Once their doubts removed, their suspicions lulled, the Hababs
proved themselves friendly, willing, and obliging.
Gratitude is no common virtue in Africa, at least as far as my own
experience goes. Its rarity brings back to my memory a fact that I
will here record. On our previous trip to the Ad Temariam, I had
seen several patients, amongst them a young man, suffering from
remittent fever, and I gave him some medicine. Hearing of our
arrival at Mahaber, he came to thank me, bringing as an offering a
small skin of milk. He apologized for the absence of his aged
father, who also, he said, wished to kiss my feet, but the distance
(about eight miles) was too much for the old man's strength.
I may as well mention here that a young commercial traveller, Mr.
Marcopoli, had accompanied us from Massowah. He was going to Metemma,
_via_ Kassala, to be present at the annual fairs held at that
place in winter. He took advantage of our short stay at Mahaber,
to proceed to Keren, in the Bogos, where he was called by business,
intending to join again our party a few stages ahead. We looked
at our map, and estimated the distance from our halting-place to
the Bogos at the utmost eighteen miles. As he was provided with
excellent mules, in four or five hours he naturally expected to
reach his destination. He accordingly started at daybreak, and
never halted once; but night was far advanced before he perceived
the lights of the first village on the Bogos plateau: so much for
travellers' maps.
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