I was not unfrequently visited by venerable sheiks and learned mollums, who, with the usual Mahomedan assumption of superiority, squatted down upon the boxes uninvited, and considered themselves at liberty to beg, borrow, or steal, as opportunities afforded, without any remonstrance from the Feringhee they affected to patronize. Although at this time the town of Aliu Amba had a Christian governor, more than three-fourths of its inhabitants were Mahomedans. These were exceedingly cautious in the expression of any dislike towards the religion of their rulers, but their prejudice against the Christian faith only rankled the more in their bosoms. It showed itself chiefly in petty acts of contempt or slight that could not well be complained of without betraying some littleness of spirit. Many of my visitors, for example, when they saw the body of a slaughtered sheep hanging upon the wall, would, with the coolest impudence imaginable, hold their noses when they came into the house, as if it had become tainted by being killed by Walderheros. Again, they always expected to have the first cup of coffee handed to them, and, in fact, this was the only refreshment they ever deigned to partake with me. When my servant complained to me that my visitors represented this, which my politeness in the first place had induced me to practise, to be an acknowledgment of their superiority as Islam believers, I soon put a stop to the mistaken idea, and if they did not choose to take the only cup I had, after me, they went without. It was some time before they became reconciled to the precedence of a Christian, even in such a trivial matter as this. In doing as I did, there was, perhaps, but little credit on my side, for I opposed their prejudice from a zealous weakness that differed not the least from the principle which had actuated them; but the heart of man is everywhere the same. “Thus I trample,” said Diogenes, “upon the pride of Plato.” “With equal pride,” retorted the insulted sage.