Every day we heard that orders had been issued for the camp to be struck, but his Majesty did not leave. He daily inquired after Mrs. Waldmeier, and sent me his compliments. He visited Gaffat twice during the few days I was there, and on each occasion sent for me and received me courteously. Mr. Rassam and the other Europeans were allowed to come to Gaffat and spend the day with us; and although now and then the word "Magdala" was whispered, still it seemed as if the storm had blown over, and we hoped before long to be all again united at Gaffat, and there in peace spend the rainy season. On the 3rd of July an officer brought me the Imperial compliments, and stated that his Majesty was coming to inspect the works, and that I might present myself before him. I went at once to the foundry, and on the road I met two of the Gaffat workmen also proceeding there. A little incident then occurred, which was followed by serious consequences. We met the Emperor near the foundry, riding ahead of his escort; he asked us how we were, and we all lowed and took off our hats. As he passed, along, the two Europeans with whom I walked, covered themselves; but aware how touchy his Majesty, was on all points of etiquette, I kept my head uncovered, though the sun was hot and fierce. Arrived at the foundry, the Emperor again greeted me cordially; examined for a few minutes the drawing of a gun his workmen proposed to cast for him, and then left, all of us following. In the courtyard he passed close to Mr. Rosenthal, who did not bow, as Theodore took no notice of him. As the Emperor issued from the foundry fence a poor old beggar asked for alms, saying, "My lords (gaitotsh) the Europeans have always been kind to me. Oh! my king, do you also relieve my distress!" On hearing the expression "lord" applied to his workmen, he got into a fearful passion. "How dare you call any one 'lord' but myself. Beat him, beat him, by my death!" Two of the executioners at once rushed upon the beggar, and began beating him with their long sticks, Theodore all the while exclaiming, "Beat him, beat him, by my death!" The poor old cripple, at first in heartrending terms, implored for mercy; but his voice grew fainter and fainter, and in a few minutes more there lay his corpse, that none dare remove or pray for. The laughing hyenas that night caroused undisturbed on his abandoned remains.