long wide robes. He shaves his head and upper lip Shafei-fashion, and his
beard is represented by a ragged tuft of red-stained hair on each side of
his chin. A visit to Aden and a doctor cost him one eye, and the other is
now white with age. His dress is that of an Arab, and he always carries
with him a broad-bladed, silver-hilted sword. Despite his years, he is a
strong, active, and energetic man, ever looking to the "main chance." With
one foot in the grave, he meditates nothing but the conquest of Harar and
Berberah, which, making him master of the seaboard, would soon extend his
power as in days of old even to Abyssinia. [27] To hear his projects, you
would fancy them the offspring of a brain in the prime of youth: in order
to carry them out he would even assist in suppressing the profitable
slave-trade. [28]

After half an hour's visit I was led by the Hajj through the streets of
Zayla [29], to one of his substantial houses of coralline and mud
plastered over with glaring whitewash. The ground floor is a kind of
warehouse full of bales and boxes, scales and buyers. A flight of steep
steps leads into a long room with shutters to exclude the light, floored
with tamped earth, full of "evening flyers" [30], and destitute of
furniture. Parallel to it are three smaller apartments; and above is a
terraced roof, where they who fear not the dew and the land-breeze sleep.
[31] I found a room duly prepared; the ground was spread with mats, and
cushions against the walls denoted the Divan: for me was placed a Kursi or
cot, covered with fine Persian rugs and gaudy silk and satin pillows. The
Hajj installed us with ceremony, and insisted, despite my remonstrances,
upon occupying the floor whilst I sat on the raised seat. After ushering
in supper, he considerately remarked that travelling is fatiguing, and
left us to sleep.

The well-known sounds of El Islam returned from memory. Again the