ing, he had found one of the king's toes, and part of his foot, not quite covered with earth, from the haste the murderers were in when they buried him; these he had put properly out of sight, and constantly ever after, as he said, had watched the place in order to hinder the grave from being disturbed, or any other person being buried there.
About the beginning of October, Guebra Selassé, a servant of the king and one of the porters in the palace, came on a message to the queen. It was a laconic one, but very easily understood.—"Bury your boy, now you have got him; or, when I come, I will bury him, and some of his relations with him." Joas, upon this, was privately buried. As this Selassé was a favourite of mine, who took care of my shoes when I pulled them off to go into the audience-room, I waited impatiently for this messenger's coming to my apartment, which he did late in the evening. I was alone, and he advanced so softly that I did not at first hear or know him; but, when the door was shut, he began to give two or three capers; and, pulling out a very large horn, "Drink! drink! G—d d—n! repeating this two or three times, and brandishing his horn over his head. Selasse, said I, have you lost your senses, or are you drunk? you used to be a sober man."—"And so I am yet, says he, I have not tasted a morsel since noon; and, being tired of running about on my affairs, I am now come to you for my supper, as I am sure you'll not poison me for my master's sake, nor for my own either, and I have now enemies enough in Gondar."—"I then asked, How is the king?"—"Did not you hear, said he—Drink!—the king told me to say this to you that you might know me to be a true messenger." And an Irish servant of mine, opening the door in the instant, thinking it wasI that
