the granary, and pounded upon the wall with his tusks.
When he began to feel tired, another took turn at the work, then
another, till several of the bricks gave way.

An opening once made was soon enlarged. Space being made for an elephant
to enter, the herd divided into parties of three or four, since only a
few could find room inside. When one party had eaten all they could,
their place was taken by another. One of the elephants stood at a
distance as sentinel. After all had eaten enough, by a shrill noise he
gave the signal to retire, and the herd, flourishing their trunks,
rushed off to the jungle.

STORIES FROM AFRICA.

I.--THE STORY OF A CRUSADER.

(_Concluded from page 30._)

The Sultan demanded the fortresses of Syria as a ransom, but King Louis
replied that they were not his to part with, but belonged to the Emperor
of Germany, who bore the title of King of Jerusalem. The Sultan
threatened him with torture, but only received the calm reply, 'I am
your prisoner; you may do what you will with me.'

He had the grievous pain of seeing his followers slain for refusing to
abjure their faith, and the worse sorrow of knowing that some among them
had yielded; and he readily agreed to pay five hundred thousand pounds
as the ransom for his people, the city of Damietta being the price of
his own freedom. The Sultan exclaimed in amazement, when the answer was
returned, 'Right noble is this Frankish king, who pays such a sum
without bargaining. Go, tell him we will lessen it by one-fifth.'

De Joinville was not with his master when he was taken, having been
detained by contrary winds in the river; but he had adventures enough of
his own.

He had struggled up to the deck of his galley, though grievously sick,
to issue his orders, when the boat was boarded by the Saracens. One
friendly Turk counselled him to leap on board the enemy's galley and
give himself up as a prisoner; and afterwards this Turk saved his life,
when the Saracen daggers were at his throat, by passing him off as the
King's cousin. He even secured for him the scarlet furred cloak which
had been his mother's gift, and under which poor Joinville lay,
shivering with fever, and, as he freely owned, with dread of what was to
come. Every hour the lives of the prisoners hung in the balance. De
Joinville saw one old comrade and follower after another slain and
thrown into the river before his eyes. When a grand old Saracen, with a
body of armed foll