Dedjazmatch Goji, in command of 500
spearmen, a tall old man, was as big a fool as he was bulky; he
loved but one thing, tej, and worshipped but one being, Theodore.
Bitwaddad Bakal, a good soldier, a simple-minded man, in charge of
the Imperial household, and a few insignificant old men, completed
the quorum.
Let us suppose a wet day during the rainy season of 1867. Our money
was getting very scarce, and all communication with Metemma, Massowah,
or Debra Tabor was completely interrupted. War had been talked of
more seriously at home, and, in the absence of news, we were in
anxious expectation of what would be decided. The weather did not
permit us to do much gardening; and other occupations were few. We
wrote home, (an easier task during the rains, as the guards kept
to their huts,) studied Amharic, read the famous _Commercial
Dictionary_, or visited one another, and smoked bad tobacco,
simply to kill time. Mr. Rosenthal, a very clever linguist, managed,
with an Italian Bible, to master that language, and, to drive away
dull care, spent his evenings studying French with only the help
of a portion of Guizot's _Histoire de la Civilisation_. If it
cleared up a little, we puddled about in the small road between the
now increased huts; but probably, before long, would be scared away
by some one shouting out,--"The Ras and the chiefs are coming!" If
we could directly run away we did so; but if perceived, we had to
put on our blandest smile, bow to the rude inquiry, "How art thou?
good afternoon to thee" (the second person singular is only employed
as a sign of disrespect, towards an inferior), and, O gods! pull
off our ragged caps and keep our heads uncovered.
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