pparently lifeless on her litter. I could do nothing more;
in solitude and abject misery in that dark hour, in a country of savage
heathen, thousands of miles away from a Christian land, I beseeched an
aid above all human, trusting alone to Him.

The morning broke; my lamp had just burned out, and cramped with the
night's watching I rose from my low seat and seeing that she lay in the
same unaltered state I went to the door of the hut to breathe one gasp
of the fresh morning air. I was watching the first red streak that
heralded the rising sun, when I was startled by the words, "Thank God,"
faintly uttered behind me. Suddenly she had awoke from her torpor, and
with a heart overflowing I went to her bedside. Her eyes were full of
madness! She spoke, but the brain was gone!

I will not inflict a description of the terrible trial of seven days of
brain fever, with its attendant horrors. The rain poured in torrents,
and day after day we were forced to travel for want of provisions, not
being able to remain in one position. Every now and then we shot a few
guinea-fowl, but rarely; there was no game, although the country was
most favorable. In the forests we procured wild honey, but the deserted
villages contained no supplies, as we were on the frontier of Uganda,
and M'tese's people had plundered the district. For seven nights I had
not slept, and although as weak as a reed, I had marched by the side
of her litter. Nature could resist no longer. We reached a village one
evening. She had been in violent convulsions successively; it was all
but over. I laid her down on her litter within a hat, covered her with a
Scotch plaid, and fell upon my mat insensible, worn out with sorrow and
fatigue. My men put a new handle to the pickaxe that evening, and sought
for a dry spot to dig her grave!

The sun had risen when I woke. I had slept, and horrified as the idea
flashed upon me that she must be dead and that I had not been with her,
I started up. She lay upon her bed, pale as marble, and with that calm
serenity that the features assume when the cares of life no longer act
upon the mind and the body rests in death. The dreadful thought bowed me
down; but as I gazed upon her in fear her chest gently heaved, not with
the convulsive throbs of fever, but naturally. She was asleep; and when
at a sudden noise she opened her eyes, they were calm and clear. She was
saved! When not a ray of hope remained, God alone knows what helped us.
The