This disgusting subject is now concluded. That it will have shocked the sensibility of the reader is but too certain; but it is equally true that the vindication we have offered is only common justice to Bruce's memory; and that the English public, who have been so cruelly regardless of Bruce's feelings, have no right to complain of those facts which, before the world, repel the charges that have been unjustly brought against the character of an honest man.
On the 21st, Bruce and his party reached the plain of Lelech-lecha, which Poncet compares "to the most beautiful part of Provence." Fine trees of all sizes were everywhere interspersed, and small black grapes and honeysuckles hung in festoons from tree to tree, as if they had been artificially twined, and were intended for arbours.
While Bruce was loitering in this cheerful spot, he heard his servants cry Robbers! robbers! His party had been taken for Mohammedans, and the inhabitants had therefore resolved to attack them; however, Bruce made himself known, and, after being slightly bruised by a pumpkin which was thrown at him, succeeded in restoring peace. Proceeding on his journey, he arrived, late at night on the 22d, at Siré, the largest town in the province of that name; but, although Siré is situated in one of the finest countries in the world, yet putrid fevers of the worst description continually rage there; and as the inhabitants were not very civil to Bruce, he felt no inclination to expose himself to the infection for their sakes. He therefore at once left both them and their fever behind him.
Bruce now learned that on the 10th Ras Michael had come up, at Fagitta, with the rebel Fasil (a man of low birth, who had been made governor of Damot and of the Agows), and had entirely dispersed his army, after killing ten thousand of his men.
Bruce continued his course for some days until he came to the principal ford of the Tacazzé, a river about two hundred yards broad and about three feet deep, which forms the boundary of the province of Siré. In the middle of this stream he met a deserter from Ras Michael's army, with a firelock on his shoulder, driving before him two unhappy girls, about ten years old, stark naked, and apparently almost starved to death--his horrid share in the plunder of Maitsha. "He had not," says Bruce, "in my eyes, the air of a conqueror, but rather of a coward, that had sneaked away and stolen these two miserable wretches he had with him."