By Janni’s servant, who had accompanied us from Adowa, his kind and friendly master had wrote to Ayto Aylo, of whom I have already spoken. He was the constant patron of the Greeks, and had been so also of all the Catholics who had ventured into this country, and been forced after to leave it. Though no man professed greater veneration for the priesthood, no one privately detested more those of his own country than he did; and he always pretended that, if a proper way of going to Jerusalem could be found, he would leave his large estates, and the rank he had in Abyssinia, and, with the little money he could muster, live the remaining part of his days among the monks, of whom he had now accounted himself one, in the convent of the holy sepulchre. This perhaps was, great part of it, imagination; but, as he had talked himself into a belief that he was to end his days either at Jerusalem, which was a pretence, or at Rome, which was his inclination, he willingly took the charge of white people of all communions who had hitherto been unhappy enough to stray into Abyssinia. It was about seven o’clock at night, of the 15th, when Hagi Saleh was much alarmed by a number of armed men at his door; and his surprise was still greater upon seeing Ayto Aylo, who, as far as I know, was never in the Moorish town before, descend from his mule, and uncover his head and shoulders, as if he had been approaching a person of the first distinction. I had been reading the prophet Enoch, which Janni had procured me at Adowa; and Wemmer’s and Ludolf’s dictionaries were lying upon it. Yasine was sitting by me, and was telling me what news he had picked up, and he was well acquainted with Ayto Aylo, from several commissions he had received for his merchants in Arabia. A contention of civilities immediately followed. I offered to stand till Aylo was covered, and he would not sit till I was seated. This being got over, the first curiosity was, What my books were? and he was very much astonished at seeing one of them was Abyssinian, and the European helps that I had towards understanding it. He understood Tigrè and Amharic perfectly, and had a little knowledge of Arabic, that is, he understood it when spoken, for he could neither read nor write it, and spoke it very ill, being at a loss for words. The beginning of our discourse was in Arabic, and embarrassed enough, but we had plenty of interpreters in all languages. The first bashfulness being removed on both sides, our conversation began in Tigré, now, lately since Michael had become Ras, the language most used in Gondar. Aylo was exceedingly astonished at hearing me speak the language as I did, and said after, “The Greeks are poor creatures; Peter does not speak Tigré so well as this man.” Then, very frequently, to Saleh and the by-standers, “Come, come, he’ll do, if he can speak; there is no fear of him, he’ll make his way.”