216 JOURNEY TO CENTRAL AFRICA.

sers. I was presented with a pipe, and as a great treat, a bottle of the mastic cordial of Scio was brought. The G-overnor insisted on my drinking three small glasses of it, three being the fortunate number. At this juncture Achmet appeared, to my great relief, for my whole stock of Arabic was exhausted.

We were about to leave, but the G-overnor declared that it was impossible. It would be disgraceful to him, should we not take dinner in his house, and in order that we might not be delayed, he ordered it to be served at once. I was willing enough to make use of this opportunity of partaking of an Arab dinner. First, a slave appeared, and gave each of us a napkin, which we spread over our knees. He was followed by another, who bore a brass ewer, and a pitcher from which he poured water over our hands. A small stand upholding a large circular piece of tin, was then placed before us. A covered dish stood in the centre, and a rampart of thin wheaten cakes, resembling Mexican tortillas, adorned the circumference.

The cover was removed, disclosing a thick soup, with balls of dough and meat. We took the ebony spoons, and now behold the Governor, Achmet and I dipping fraternally into the same bowl, and politely stirring the choice lumps into each other's spoons. Mustapha was in the most hilarious humor, but his four dark attendants stood before us as solemn as Death. I thought then, and still think, that they hated him cordial1 y. The soup was followed by a dish of kibcibs, or small pieces of meat, fried in grease. These we picked out with our fingers, and then, tearing the wheat cakes into slices, sopped up the sauce. About ten different compounds of meat and vegetables followed, each unlike any thing I ever tasted before, but all quite palatable. The only articles I was able to detect in the