I thought, when we went at night to Ayto Aylo, and he had told the story distinctly, that Aylo and he were equally afraid, for he had not, or pretended he had not, till then heard that Woosheka had been flayed alive. Aylo, too, was well acquainted with the unfortunate person, and only said, “This is Esther, this is Esther; nobody knew her but I.” Then they went on to inquire particulars, and after, they would stop one another, and desire each other to speak no more; then they cried again, and fell into the same conversation. It was impossible not to laugh at the ridiculous dialogue. “Sirs,” said I, “you have told me all I want; I shall not stir from the Moors town till Ras Michael arrives; if there was any need of advice, you are neither of you capable of giving it; now I would wish you would shew me you are capable of taking mine. You are both extremely agitated, and Peter is very tired; and will besides see the ghost of Woosheka shaking to and fro all night with the wind; neither of you ate supper, as I intend to do; and I think Peter should stay here all night, but you should not lie both of you in the same room, where Woosheka’s black skin, so strongly impressed on your mind, will not fail to keep you talking all night in place of sleeping. Boil about a quart of gruel, I will put a few drops into it; go then to bed, and this unusual operation of Michael will not have power to keep you awake.” The gruel was made, and a good large doze of laudanum put into it. I took my leave, and returned with Saleh; but before I went to the door Aylo told me he had forgot Welled Hawaryat was very bad, and the Iteghè, Ozoro Altash, his wife, and Ozoro Esther, desired I would come and see him to-morrow. One of his daughters, by Ozoro Altash, had been ill some time before his arrival, and she too was thought in great danger. “Look,” said I, “Ayto Aylo, the small-pox is a disease that will have its course; and, during the long time the patient is under it, if people feed them and treat them according to their own ignorant prejudices, my seeing him, or advising him, is in vain. This morning you said a man had cured him by writing upon a tin plate; and to try if he was well, they crammed him with raw beef. I do not think the letters that he swallowed will do him any harm, neither will they do him any good; but I shall not be surprised if the raw beef kills him, and his daughter Welleta Selassé, too, before I see him to-morrow.”