suffered from that strange curse of Zanzibar--elephantiasis. His
feet were slipped into a pair of watta (Arabic for slippers), with
thick soles and a strong leathern band over the instep. His light
complexion and his correct features, which are intelligent and
regular, bespeak the Arab patrician. They indicate, however,
nothing except his high descent and blood; no traits of character
are visible unless there is just a trace of amiability, and perfect
contentment with himself and all around.

Such is Prince, or Seyd Burghash, Sultan of Zanzibar and Pemba, and
the East coast of Africa, from Somali Land to the Mozambique, as he
appeared to me.

Coffee was served in cups supported by golden finjans, also some
cocoa-nut milk, and rich sweet sherbet.

The conversation began with the question addressed to the Consul.

"Are you well?"

Consul.--" Yes, thank you. How is His Highness?"

Highness.--"Quite well!"

Highness to me.--"Are you well?"

Answer.--"Quite well, thanks!"

The Consul now introduces business; and questions about my travels
follow from His Highness--