According to Mr. Wylde, Abyssinian girls have many attractions for men. “They perfectly understand the utility of ‘feeding the beast’ with a nice dinner to keep him good-tempered, and from what I have seen of these young ladies, they do everything they possibly can to make a man happy, and being good-tempered, jolly girls, they seldom ‘nag,’ and no wonder the southern Italians have taken a liking for them, and find themselves perfectly happy in their society.” He admits that “their great drawback is their dirtiness;” but adds, “all those that get the chance of being clean keep themselves very neat and tidy.” However, “nearly all the lower-class Abyssinian women use oil or fat for their heads; this they do to keep the small parasites quiet, as they cannot get about when the head and hair are thickly besmeared and saturated, and the oil or fat also serves for softening the skin of the face and preventing it from chapping in the cold weather, or blistering during the hot season of the year.”[243] Mr. Vivian remarked of the Ethiopian woman, “though her features are comely, she is not the sort of person one would care to choose as a companion. For one thing, I do not suppose that she ever washes herself in her life, the butter on her hair grows rancid and emits a peculiarly pungent odour, which affronts the nostrils when you pass her in the desert, and wherever she goes she carries with her a large black cluster of flies congregated on her back.”[244] Probably she would “find herself” under the influence of a cleaner civilization. Conceptions of medicine among the Abyssinians have changed for the better during recent years. Harris has given an account of some of the singular notions and practices which prevailed in his day. He took a supply of medical stores into the country, and he and the doctor with the expedition (Assistant-Surgeon Kirk) acted as physicians extraordinary to the King, with the following results:— “The most particular inquiries were instituted relative to the mode of counteracting the influence of the evil eye, and much disappointment expressed at the unavoidable intimation that the dispensary of the foreigners contained neither ‘the horn of a serpent,’ which is believed to afford an invaluable antidote against witchcraft; no preservative against wounds in the battlefield, nor any nostrum for ‘those who go mad from looking at a mad dog.’ ‘We princes also fear the small-pox,’ said his Majesty, ‘and therefore never tarry long in the same place. Nagási, my illustrious ancestor, suffered martyrdom from this scourge. Have you no medicine to drive it from myself?’