ntenance, whence all expression was banished save
firmness, and a lofty air of determination.

Selim, thorough son of a thorough Arab, with his head bent down
mechanically followed his father's footsteps, and allowed the strange
birds to rise, and sing, and fly unheeded about him, the sun to sink
unheeded to the west, and the twilight to approach, without seeming to
be at all conscious that he was marching to that grand, fabulous, awful
heart of Africa, about which he had heard so much, and which he had
craved in his heart of hearts to see.

The silence was unbroken until the caravan had halted on the banks of
the Kingani, then Selim recovered himself, and a copious flood of tears
caused by a feeling of tender melancholy which came over him at the
thought that he had really and actually left the pleasant happy home for
that sable, ominous, forested land that stretched deathly still across
the river.

The father turned as he heard the deep sobs of his boy, and on
approaching him laid his hand kindly on his head, and said:

"What! in tears, my son? Art thou sorry thou hast left thy home--eh,
Selim?"

"No, father, I am not sorry, but home seemed so beautiful as I thought
of it, compared to that still dark land beyond. There are nothing but
black-looking forests across the river, even the sky looks black and
desolate, and my heart seems to have caught some of its desolation."

"The forest looks sombrous and dark, my son, because night approaches,"
said Amer, tenderly. "That black-looking sky which hastens from the
east is but the counterpane earth draws about it before folding its arms
to sleep. When we shall have crossed the river we will camp, and in the
tent, which thou wilt learn to love as thy home, thou wilt forget thy
present misery; and in the morning, when earth is wide awake, and the
sun comes out as gay as a bride from the east, and the birds have all
left their nests and fill the air with their joyous songs, and the
fleet-footed antelope browses in the open glades, thou wilt wonder that
thou couldst find it in thy heart to weep."

"Oh, father, I shall weep no more. See, my eyes are already dry;" and
Selim raised a brave face towards his father, which was tenderly kissed.

The caravan was soon across the river, and every man and woman was
engaged in cutting down young trees and branches to form a stockade, a
duty not to be omitted by well-conducted caravans in Africa.

When this was done the people