ns from various authors, all tending to prove that he might
travel through the country without much risk, if he took proper
precautions, his grand-uncle's objections grew daily more feeble, and at
last Sir Charles gave his unwilling consent. In the meantime, the books
which Alexander had read had produced a great effect upon him. When he
first proposed the mission, it was more from a feeling of gratitude
toward his old relative than any other, but now he was most anxious to
go on his own account. The narratives of combats with wild beasts, the
quantity and variety of game to be found, and the continual excitement
which would be kept up, inflamed his imagination and his love of field
sports, and he earnestly requested to be permitted to depart
immediately, pointing out to Sir Charles that the sooner he went away,
the sooner he would be back again. This last argument was not without
its weight, and Alexander was allowed to make every preparation for his
journey. Inquiries were made, and a passage secured on board of a
free-trader, which was to touch at the Cape, and in six weeks from the
time that the subject had been brought up, Alexander Wilmot took leave
of his grand-uncle.

"May God bless you, sir, and keep you well till my return," said
Alexander, pressing his hand.

"May the Lord protect you, my dear boy, and allow you to return and
close my eyes," replied Sir Charles, with much emotion.

Before night Alexander Wilmot was in London, from thence he hastened
down to Portsmouth to embark. The next day, the _Surprise_ weighed
anchor and ran through the Needles, and before the night closed in was
well down the Channel, standing before the wind, with studding sails
below and aloft.

CHAPTER III.

A melancholy feeling clouded the features of Alexander Wilmot as, on the
following morning, the vessel, under a heavy press of sail, was fast
leaving the shores of his native country. He remained on the poop of the
vessel with his eyes fixed upon the land, which every moment became more
indistinct. His thoughts may easily be imagined. Shall I ever see that
land again? Shall I ever return, or shall my bones remain in Africa,
perhaps not even buried, but bleaching in the desert? And if I do
return, shall I find my old relation still alive, or called away, loaded
as he is with years, to the silent tomb? We are in the hands of a
gracious God. His will be done.

Alexander turned away, as the land had at last become no l