A Second Later, A Wretched-Looking Object, Covered With
Slime And Filth, Emerged From The Slough; This Was Paganini The
Second!
Who, after securing his fiddle, that had stranded on a
mud-bank, scrambled up the steep slope, amidst the
Roars of
laughter of my people and of ourselves; while the perverse mule,
having turned harmony into discord, kicked up its heels and
galloped off, braying an ode in praise of liberty, as the "Lay of
the last Minstrel." The discomfited fiddler was wiped down by my
Tokrooris, who occasionally burst into renewed fits of laughter
during the operation; the mule was caught, and the minstrel
remounted, and returned home completely out of tune.
On the following morning, at sunrise, I mounted my horse, and,
accompanied by Taher Noor and Bacheet, I rode to pay my respects
to Mek Nimmur. Our route lay parallel to the stream, and, after
a ride of about two miles through a fine, park-like country,
bounded by the Abyssinian Alps about fifteen miles distant, I
observed a crowd of people round a large tamarind tree, near
which were standing a number of horses, mules, and dromedaries.
This was the spot upon which I was to meet Mek Nimmur. Upon my
approach the crowd opened, and, having dismounted, I was
introduced by Taher Noor to the great chief. He was a man of
about fifty, and exceedingly dirty in appearance. He sat upon an
angarep, surrounded by his people; lying on either side upon his
seat were two brace of pistols, and within a few yards stood his
horse ready saddled.
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