groes might see exemplified the blessings of
Christianity and civilisation, and, thence, trained native missionaries
might radiate into all parts of the vast continent armed only with the
Word of God, the shield of Faith, and the sword of the Spirit in order
to preach the glad tidings of salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord.

In brief, the great points on which we ought as a nation, to insist, are
the _immediate_ abolition of the slave-trade in Portuguese dependencies;
the scrupulous fulfilment of treaty obligations by the Sultans of
Zanzibar and Muscat, the Shah of Persia, and the Khedive of Egypt; the
establishment by our Government of efficient consular agencies where
such are required; the acquisition of territory on the mainland for the
purposes already mentioned, and the united action of all Christians in
our land to raise funds and send men to preach the Gospel to the negro.
So doing we shall, with God's blessing, put an end to the Eastern
slave-trade, save equatorial Africa, and materially increase the
commerce, the riches, and the happiness of the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

TELLS OF SAD SIGHTS, AND SUDDEN EVENTS, AND UNEXPECTED MEETINGS.

In the course of time, our hero, Harold Seadrift, and his faithful ally,
Disco Lillihammer, after innumerable adventures which we are unwillingly
obliged to pass over in silence, returned to the coast and, in the
course of their wanderings in search of a vessel which should convey
them to Zanzibar, found themselves at last in the town of Governor
Letotti. Being English travellers, they were received as guests by the
Governor, and Harold was introduced to Senhorina Maraquita.

Passing through the market-place one day, they observed a crowd round
the flag-staff in the centre of the square, and, following the
irresistible tendency of human nature in such circumstances, ran to see
what was going on.

They found that a slave was about to be publicly whipped by soldiers.
The unhappy man was suspended by the wrists from the flag-staff, and a
single cord of coir round his waist afforded him additional support.

"Come away, we can do no good here," said Harold, in a low, sorrowful
tone, which was drowned in the shriek of the victim, as the first lash
fell on his naked shoulders.

"Pra'ps he's a criminal," suggested Disco, as he hurried away,
endeavouring to comfort himself with the thought that the man probably
deserved punishment. "It's not the whippin' I think so