Hitherto I had no intercourse with Socinios, never having been in his presence, but when the Galla, the murderer of Joas, was tried; nor had I any reason to think he knew me, or cared for me more than any Greek that was in Gondar; but I had a good friend at court, who waked when I slept, and did not suffer me to pass unknown; this was the Acab Saat, Salama, who had instigated the king, on the 5th of December, in one of his drunken fits, to set out from the palace in the night, attended by a number of banditti, mostly Mahometans, to plunder several houses; he slew one man, as it was said, with his own hand: among these devoted houses mine happened to be one, but I was then happily at Koscam. The next was Metical Aga's, one of whose servants escaped into a church-yard, the other being slain. The leader of this unworthy mob was Confu, brother to Guebra Mehedin. Every thing that could be carried away was stolen or broken; among which was a reflecting telescope, a barometer, and thermometer; a great many papers and sketches of drawings, first torn, then burnt by Confu's own hand, with many curses and threats against me. The next day, about nine o'clock, I had a message to come to the palace, where I went, and was immediately admitted. Socinios was sitting, his eyes half closed, red as scarlet with last night's debauch; he was apparently at that moment much in liquor; his mouth full of tobacco, squirting his spittle out of his mouth to a very great distance; with this he had so covered the floor, that it was with very great difficulty I could chuse a clean place to kneel and make my obeisance. He was dressed like the late king, but, in every thing else, how unlike! my mind was filled with horror and detestation, to see the throne on which he sat so unworthily occupied. I regarded him as I advanced with the most perfect contempt: Hamlet's lines described him exactly:-- A murtherer and a villain: A slave, that is not twentieth part the tithe Of your preceding lord; a vice of kings; A cutpurse of the empire, and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole And put it in his pocket; A king of shreds and patches. SHAKESPEARE. It requires something of innate royalty to personate a king.