Story 3--Chapter VII.

Story 3--Chapter VII.Harry Acton and his wife anxiously sat up till a late hour, waiting the return of Mr Maitland. When he did not appear the next morning, his son-in-law rode over to Christchurch to inquire for him. Harry became alarmed on hearing that he had left that place, and hastened to the nearest magistrate. A search was at once made in all directions. Mr Maitland’s body was at length found. It was evident how he had been killed, and it was at once suspected that some of the gang of smugglers who had murdered Bursey were guilty of the deed. While the party were waiting for a cart to convey the body to Christchurch, a man was caught sight of among the trees in the distance. On finding that he was observed, he took to flight. He was chased, and at length overtaken. His dress showed that he was a seaman, probably a smuggler, his countenance was haggard, his eyes bloodshot. He made no attempt to defend himself, though he had a brace of pistols in his belt, and they were both loaded. As he was being dragged along, blood was observed on his coat, and blood had flowed from the victim’s head. His name was asked.“Geoferey Marwood,” he answered promptly.“What do you know about the death of this man?” he was next asked.“I did not kill him,” he answered.“You will have a hard job to prove to the contrary,” observed one of his captors, as they dragged the unhappy man along.Mr Maitland’s body was conveyed to Christchurch, where an inquest was held, when a verdict of murder was returned against Geoferey Marwood, and others not in custody. He, notwithstanding, protested his innocence, and accused four others of being guilty of the crime. Warrants were therefore issued for their apprehension, while he was conveyed to Winchester gaol to await his trial. Notwithstanding his protestations of innocence, it was generally supposed in the neighbourhood that Marwood was guilty of the murder of Mr Maitland, and that he had accused the other men in the hopes of prolonging his own life while search was being made for them. Though, however, they for a considerable time evaded the officers of justice, the whole were at length apprehended and conveyed to gaol. For many weeks the wretched man known as Geoferey Marwood lay in the felon’s cell. Arthur Maitland frequently visited him, though he could not do so without horror as the supposed murderer of his father. Yet his sense of duty overcame all other considerations, and he endeavoured to address him as he would have done any other prisoner. The man, however, seemed to have hardened his heart, and to have an utter indifference to his fate.“I have said that I did not kill the old man; but if it is proved that I did it, they will hang me, I suppose, and there will be another man less in the world. It is no matter, for I have nothing to live for; if I had, I should not have been taken in the way I was.”“But you have a soul, and that must live for ever,” urged Arthur. “If you die impenitent, still refusing to accept God’s offer of mercy, which He holds out even to the worst of sinners, that soul must spend eternity in misery unspeakable, cast out from His presence.”Arthur then read to him the account of the Crucifixion, and of the Saviour’s gracious promise to the penitent thief.“Great as is the crime that you are accused of, even if guilty, though man may not pardon you, God has promised to do so if you turn to Him and accept His offer. ‘The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin,’”“I tell you I am not guilty of that crime,” answered Marwood. “I have done a number of things I wish that I had not; but if they choose to hang me, they may—that’s all I have to say about it.”Still, although Arthur had seldom met with a prisoner who appeared more hardened or more indifferent to his fate, he persisted in visiting him, and placing before him the truths of the gospel.He had endeavoured to show him what sin is, how hateful it is in God’s sight, and he had warned him that God is a God of justice, and can by no means overlook iniquity. He had faithfully placed before him the fearful condemnation which he would bring down upon himself if dying impenitent. He now spoke to him of God’s long-suffering and kindness, of His mercy, and readiness to forgive. He inquired whether he remembered a fond mother and kind father whom he had offended.“Surely when you did so, and went back to them and expressed your sorrow, they received you again, and forgave you.”“I never remember my mother,” answered the prisoner. “My father was a good man, but he was stern, and because I disobeyed him and joined some wild companions, I was told that he would not forgive me, and so I ran off and kept out of his way. I found out afterwards that he thought me dead. It was too late then to go back, for I had done so many things which he would have condemned that I could not face him.”Just at that moment the warders arrived at the door to conduct him to the court. His trial was about to commence. He and the other four men accused of the murder of Mr Maitland were placed in the dock. The junior counsel for the prosecution was Hugh Maitland. As had occurred at the commencement of his career, his senior counsel was unable, on account of sudden illness, to attend. His private feelings, as well as his professional interest, induced him to exert all his talents to procure the condemnation of the prisoners, whom he believed to be guilty. Every effort had been made to obtain proof against them. Of this they well knew.Evil-doers, though often faithful to each other while success attends them, are frequently, for the sake of saving their own lives, ready to betray each other.One of the men had offered to turn king’s evidence. Hugh brought him forward as a witness.The trial went on. The evidence contributed to fix the guilt on all the prisoners. That, however, of their traitorous companion was crushing. The jury were convinced that Marwood was guilty, as well as the three others. The blood on his coat, and his having been found in the neighbourhood, left no doubt on their minds, notwithstanding all the counsel of the accused could say in their favour. The jury brought in a verdict of “guilty.” The judge was about to pronounce sentence, when one of the condemned men claimed to be heard. He acknowledged that he and his three companions were the murderers of Mr Maitland, and that though he had not struck the fatal blow, he had been assisting; but that Marwood, though he had arrived at the moment, had no notion of their intention, but, on the contrary, had interfered and endeavoured to stop them. This evidence was considered of so much value, that though the judge condemned the whole to death, he recommended Marwood to mercy.In those days a brief time only was allowed between sentence and execution. The three other prisoners knew that they had no hope of escaping, and Arthur felt it his duty to warn Marwood that the Government were so determined to put an end to the smuggler’s traffic, and to punish all who fell into their hands, that he must not entertain much expectation of being reprieved.“I care not for my life; but of this crime, as I have always said, I am innocent, and would die a thousand deaths rather than suffer for it,” he answered. “And tell me, sir, who was that lawyer that appeared against me. I heard his name; it is one I once well knew.”“He is a barrister of high talent, the eldest son of the murdered man.”The prisoner, who was now in the condemned cell, lifted his manacled hands, exclaiming, involuntarily it seemed—“My brother appear against me! God have mercy on him, for through him I have been unjustly condemned. As there is a God in heaven, whom I have so often blasphemed, I tell you again that I am guiltless of the crime for which I am condemned!”Arthur was too much agitated to speak for a moment.“You the brother of Hugh Maitland?” he exclaimed, “I am his brother. We had but one other brother, Gilbert, who lost his life when a mere lad; so we believed, and long mourned him as dead.”“Arthur! Arthur!” exclaimed Gilbert, for he was indeed the prisoner. “I recognise your features, although I had not till now done so. Can you believe me guilty of our father’s death? I confess to countless crimes, but of that I am innocent.”Arthur at length recovered himself. From several circumstances which Gilbert brought to his memory, he was thoroughly convinced that he was indeed his brother.“I before hoped that you might escape death, and now that I am convinced that you are innocent, I must use every exertion to prevent the risk of the reprieve not reaching Winchester in time to stay your execution.”Arthur hastened away in search of Hugh, who was on the point of starting for London. The calm, self-confident barrister sunk almost fainting into a chair when he heard Arthur’s account. He, however, soon recovered his self-possession.“If Gilbert is innocent, I am guilty of fratricide, and shall have contributed to bring disgrace on our family!” he exclaimed.Together they set out for London. A reprieve, which had hitherto been refused, was granted.It was on the very morning that the execution of the prisoners was to take place. An accident might delay them. It was daylight before they reached the gaol. They found the Governor in a state of agitation, for one of the prisoners had escaped. He was greatly relieved on finding that it was the man for whom they had brought a reprieve.“One difficulty is got over,” he observed; “but I should have had to keep him here, for he and another were accused, by that fellow who turned king’s evidence, and who hopes to get the promised reward, of being implicated in Bursey’s murder.”The two brothers looked at each other. Hugh could scarcely restrain his feelings; a sense of bitter shame predominated, however, for the disgrace he had hoped to escape might still fall on his family. Arthur earnestly prayed that the information might be false, and that his unhappy brother was innocent. The prisoner was supposed to have made his way to Southampton, and to have escaped on board a foreign-bound ship.Several months passed away; it was the autumn. Arthur had gone to spend some days with Mary and her husband. He had ridden over to call on some friends at Christchurch. A heavy equinoctial gale was blowing from the south-west. As he was returning along the coast, wishing to obtain a view of the stormy sea, now covered with foaming waves, he observed a large lugger, under a press of sail, standing towards the shore. A number of people were collected on the beach, and he guessed, from the light waggons and horses of which he had caught sight, that preparations were being made for running a cargo of smuggled goods, then often done in open day, the Revenue officers being either enticed away or bribed not to interfere.The danger a vessel must encounter venturing in at that time appeared fearfully great. He could not bring himself to leave the spot. The reason of the lugger’s attempting the hazardous experiment, however, was evident. In the offing appeared a sloop-of-war, and one, he knew, had been sent to cruise after smugglers. From remarks he overheard, he discovered that the lugger was theSaucy Sally, commanded by Slippery Rogers. Every moment the gale was increasing, and the surf came rolling with greater and greater force upon the beach. Those on shore threw up a signal to show that landing was impossible, but the fearless crew of the lugger pushed madly on. One instant she appeared with her broad spread of canvas swelling to the gale; the next, surrounded by the fierce waves dashing up madly around her, she lay shattered to fragments on the shingly beach, her crew struggling vainly in the surf. Some few amid the wreck, and casks and bales, which formed her cargo, were washed on shore, but the greater number were carried out far beyond human reach by the receding waves. Of those who were saved, several were fearfully injured, some breathed their last as they were dragged out of the water. Arthur offered that assistance which the rough men were little able to afford. He had sent off for a surgeon, and having attended to two of the sufferers, hastened to the side of a third, who seemed to have received some severe injuries. As he knelt down he recognised the countenance of his unhappy brother Gilbert, who, opening his eyes, fixed them on his face.“We obtained a reprieve,” said Arthur. “Why did you escape? you knew I had gone to obtain it.”“I did not trust to the king’s mercy; and as I had the opportunity, I determined to avail myself of it,” answered Gilbert in a feeble voice.“Our king is a merciful sovereign; he has ever shown a readiness to forgive when his sense of justice will allow him,” answered Arthur. “But oh! how much more merciful is our Father in heaven; and His justice having been amply satisfied by the willing sacrifice of His dear Son, who died for sinners, He is abundantly ready to forgive the sinner who trusts to that full atonement made for his sins! I speak thus, dear Gilbert, for I fear your time on earth is short.”“I know it is,” answered Gilbert. “Oh! continue to speak as you have begun. I knew myself to be a guilty, outcast sinner before I left the prison. What you had said to me sunk into my heart. It was for your sake and for Hugh’s more than my own that I escaped; and I came back in the lugger resolved not to participate in the profits of the enterprise.”Arthur sighed.“Those who associate with evil-doers share in their doings,” he was compelled to remark, but he dwelt not on that subject.“My dear brother,” he continued, “we are all sinners in the sight of a pure and holy God, who cannot look upon iniquity; but He in His love and mercy has provided a fountain in which all our sins, however black, however foul, can be washed away; and He tells us in His Word that though they be red like crimson, they shall become as white as snow, and though they be as scarlet, they become as wool—that He will put them as far from us as the east is from the west. To that fountain which flowed from the side of Jesus when He hung on the cross, offering himself up as a full and sufficient sacrifice in God’s sight for the sins of all who trust in Him, let me urge you to turn your eyes; believe in that loving Saviour that He died for you, as well as for other sinners; that His heart yearns toward you; that He desires you to come to Him and be saved.”“I remember, Arthur, that you said this to me in prison; but I hardened my heart. I was strong and well, and feared not death,” answered Gilbert, with a deep sigh. “I can do nothing to merit heaven—it’s too late now, it’s too late.”“It is never too late,” exclaimed Arthur. “The arms of Jesus are ever ready to receive all who come to Him in simple faith, trusting to His merits alone, and not to any merits of their own, or anything they ever can do to deserve His favour; banish such a thought from your mind. By His free grace He gives us salvation: remember the thief on the cross; he simply turned his dying eye on his crucified Lord, acknowledging that He was the Son of God, and the same answer Jesus gave to him He will give to you if you believe on Him. Remember, too, how the Israelites in the wilderness, bitten by the fiery serpents, were told to look on the serpent of brass, the emblem of healing held up by Moses, and no sooner did they look than they were healed. How merciful, how loving, how gracious, is our Father in heaven, who, knowing the frailty of poor human beings, has thus provided so simple, so easy, and yet so all-sufficient a means by which they may be saved.”Arthur, animated by love for his brother’s soul, continued thus to plead with him, for he dreaded lest he might die in the attempt to move him. He would have pleaded, however, in the same way with any other sufferer, for he knew the value of human souls.At length several of the people assembled round him, and charitably offered to convey the injured man to a cottage at some little distance from the beach.“Let me be taken there,” whispered Gilbert; “there is another I should wish to see, to ask her forgiveness for all the pain and sorrow I have caused her, but do not leave me.”A litter was speedily formed with a couple of spars and a piece of sail, and Gilbert being placed on it, four fishermen conveyed him towards the cottage, Arthur walking by his side, still holding his hand. The men seeing that Arthur was a clergyman, were not surprised at the attention he paid to the dying man, nor did they suspect the relationship.“I am praying for you,” whispered Arthur; “and oh, let me entreat you to pray for yourself.”“I am trying to do so, but I find it hard. My faith is weak—too weak I fear to avail me,” gasped the dying man.“Though it be but like a grain of mustard seed, He has promised that it shall remove mountains,” answered Arthur.The cottage, happily the abode of Christian people, was reached. The sufferer was placed on a bed prepared for him by the good woman of the house, and Arthur immediately sent off a messenger to summon Mary and her husband, as well as a surgeon, in the hopes that his skill might benefit his brother. Anxiously he watched the livelong night by the side of Arthur’s couch, and it was with joy unspeakable that towards morning he heard him whisper, “God has answered my prayer; I believe that His Son Jesus Christ died for me, the just for the unjust, and that through His merits my numberless sins are put away.” Soon afterwards the surgeon arrived. After examining Gilbert, he took Arthur aside. “The injuries the poor fellow has received are such as I fear no human skill can remedy. I will do my best, but I can give no hopes of his recovery; he is a fitter subject for your care than mine, though these smugglers are such ruffians that I do not suppose you will be able to do much with him.”“We are all by nature rebels to God,” answered Arthur, endeavouring to conceal his feelings. “I will, as you advise, remain with the poor man, and follow the directions you give.”The surgeon told Arthur what he advised and took his departure, and Arthur hastened back to his brother. Mary and her husband arrived early in the morning. Gilbert, though too weak to speak, knew his sister, and showed by signs that he understood what she said. He pressed her hand, and a smile lighted up his countenance when she assured him that she had never ceased to pray for him, and to feel the same affection for him as of yore.“Those prayers have been answered, have they not?” said Arthur bending over his brother, and he repeated the last words Gilbert had uttered, “I believe that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” Again a bright look passed across Gilbert’s countenance, and holding the hands of the loving ones kneeling by his side, his spirit passed away. One of his last requests had been that he might be buried with his hapless companions who had been rescued from the waves. It was complied with, and no one besides those who were with him at his death knew that the shipwrecked smuggler was Gilbert Maitland.Oh that the young could see the fearful termination of the broad road they are tempted by Satan to follow, ere they take the first downward step along it!The End.

Harry Acton and his wife anxiously sat up till a late hour, waiting the return of Mr Maitland. When he did not appear the next morning, his son-in-law rode over to Christchurch to inquire for him. Harry became alarmed on hearing that he had left that place, and hastened to the nearest magistrate. A search was at once made in all directions. Mr Maitland’s body was at length found. It was evident how he had been killed, and it was at once suspected that some of the gang of smugglers who had murdered Bursey were guilty of the deed. While the party were waiting for a cart to convey the body to Christchurch, a man was caught sight of among the trees in the distance. On finding that he was observed, he took to flight. He was chased, and at length overtaken. His dress showed that he was a seaman, probably a smuggler, his countenance was haggard, his eyes bloodshot. He made no attempt to defend himself, though he had a brace of pistols in his belt, and they were both loaded. As he was being dragged along, blood was observed on his coat, and blood had flowed from the victim’s head. His name was asked.

“Geoferey Marwood,” he answered promptly.

“What do you know about the death of this man?” he was next asked.

“I did not kill him,” he answered.

“You will have a hard job to prove to the contrary,” observed one of his captors, as they dragged the unhappy man along.

Mr Maitland’s body was conveyed to Christchurch, where an inquest was held, when a verdict of murder was returned against Geoferey Marwood, and others not in custody. He, notwithstanding, protested his innocence, and accused four others of being guilty of the crime. Warrants were therefore issued for their apprehension, while he was conveyed to Winchester gaol to await his trial. Notwithstanding his protestations of innocence, it was generally supposed in the neighbourhood that Marwood was guilty of the murder of Mr Maitland, and that he had accused the other men in the hopes of prolonging his own life while search was being made for them. Though, however, they for a considerable time evaded the officers of justice, the whole were at length apprehended and conveyed to gaol. For many weeks the wretched man known as Geoferey Marwood lay in the felon’s cell. Arthur Maitland frequently visited him, though he could not do so without horror as the supposed murderer of his father. Yet his sense of duty overcame all other considerations, and he endeavoured to address him as he would have done any other prisoner. The man, however, seemed to have hardened his heart, and to have an utter indifference to his fate.

“I have said that I did not kill the old man; but if it is proved that I did it, they will hang me, I suppose, and there will be another man less in the world. It is no matter, for I have nothing to live for; if I had, I should not have been taken in the way I was.”

“But you have a soul, and that must live for ever,” urged Arthur. “If you die impenitent, still refusing to accept God’s offer of mercy, which He holds out even to the worst of sinners, that soul must spend eternity in misery unspeakable, cast out from His presence.”

Arthur then read to him the account of the Crucifixion, and of the Saviour’s gracious promise to the penitent thief.

“Great as is the crime that you are accused of, even if guilty, though man may not pardon you, God has promised to do so if you turn to Him and accept His offer. ‘The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin,’”

“I tell you I am not guilty of that crime,” answered Marwood. “I have done a number of things I wish that I had not; but if they choose to hang me, they may—that’s all I have to say about it.”

Still, although Arthur had seldom met with a prisoner who appeared more hardened or more indifferent to his fate, he persisted in visiting him, and placing before him the truths of the gospel.

He had endeavoured to show him what sin is, how hateful it is in God’s sight, and he had warned him that God is a God of justice, and can by no means overlook iniquity. He had faithfully placed before him the fearful condemnation which he would bring down upon himself if dying impenitent. He now spoke to him of God’s long-suffering and kindness, of His mercy, and readiness to forgive. He inquired whether he remembered a fond mother and kind father whom he had offended.

“Surely when you did so, and went back to them and expressed your sorrow, they received you again, and forgave you.”

“I never remember my mother,” answered the prisoner. “My father was a good man, but he was stern, and because I disobeyed him and joined some wild companions, I was told that he would not forgive me, and so I ran off and kept out of his way. I found out afterwards that he thought me dead. It was too late then to go back, for I had done so many things which he would have condemned that I could not face him.”

Just at that moment the warders arrived at the door to conduct him to the court. His trial was about to commence. He and the other four men accused of the murder of Mr Maitland were placed in the dock. The junior counsel for the prosecution was Hugh Maitland. As had occurred at the commencement of his career, his senior counsel was unable, on account of sudden illness, to attend. His private feelings, as well as his professional interest, induced him to exert all his talents to procure the condemnation of the prisoners, whom he believed to be guilty. Every effort had been made to obtain proof against them. Of this they well knew.

Evil-doers, though often faithful to each other while success attends them, are frequently, for the sake of saving their own lives, ready to betray each other.

One of the men had offered to turn king’s evidence. Hugh brought him forward as a witness.

The trial went on. The evidence contributed to fix the guilt on all the prisoners. That, however, of their traitorous companion was crushing. The jury were convinced that Marwood was guilty, as well as the three others. The blood on his coat, and his having been found in the neighbourhood, left no doubt on their minds, notwithstanding all the counsel of the accused could say in their favour. The jury brought in a verdict of “guilty.” The judge was about to pronounce sentence, when one of the condemned men claimed to be heard. He acknowledged that he and his three companions were the murderers of Mr Maitland, and that though he had not struck the fatal blow, he had been assisting; but that Marwood, though he had arrived at the moment, had no notion of their intention, but, on the contrary, had interfered and endeavoured to stop them. This evidence was considered of so much value, that though the judge condemned the whole to death, he recommended Marwood to mercy.

In those days a brief time only was allowed between sentence and execution. The three other prisoners knew that they had no hope of escaping, and Arthur felt it his duty to warn Marwood that the Government were so determined to put an end to the smuggler’s traffic, and to punish all who fell into their hands, that he must not entertain much expectation of being reprieved.

“I care not for my life; but of this crime, as I have always said, I am innocent, and would die a thousand deaths rather than suffer for it,” he answered. “And tell me, sir, who was that lawyer that appeared against me. I heard his name; it is one I once well knew.”

“He is a barrister of high talent, the eldest son of the murdered man.”

The prisoner, who was now in the condemned cell, lifted his manacled hands, exclaiming, involuntarily it seemed—

“My brother appear against me! God have mercy on him, for through him I have been unjustly condemned. As there is a God in heaven, whom I have so often blasphemed, I tell you again that I am guiltless of the crime for which I am condemned!”

Arthur was too much agitated to speak for a moment.

“You the brother of Hugh Maitland?” he exclaimed, “I am his brother. We had but one other brother, Gilbert, who lost his life when a mere lad; so we believed, and long mourned him as dead.”

“Arthur! Arthur!” exclaimed Gilbert, for he was indeed the prisoner. “I recognise your features, although I had not till now done so. Can you believe me guilty of our father’s death? I confess to countless crimes, but of that I am innocent.”

Arthur at length recovered himself. From several circumstances which Gilbert brought to his memory, he was thoroughly convinced that he was indeed his brother.

“I before hoped that you might escape death, and now that I am convinced that you are innocent, I must use every exertion to prevent the risk of the reprieve not reaching Winchester in time to stay your execution.”

Arthur hastened away in search of Hugh, who was on the point of starting for London. The calm, self-confident barrister sunk almost fainting into a chair when he heard Arthur’s account. He, however, soon recovered his self-possession.

“If Gilbert is innocent, I am guilty of fratricide, and shall have contributed to bring disgrace on our family!” he exclaimed.

Together they set out for London. A reprieve, which had hitherto been refused, was granted.

It was on the very morning that the execution of the prisoners was to take place. An accident might delay them. It was daylight before they reached the gaol. They found the Governor in a state of agitation, for one of the prisoners had escaped. He was greatly relieved on finding that it was the man for whom they had brought a reprieve.

“One difficulty is got over,” he observed; “but I should have had to keep him here, for he and another were accused, by that fellow who turned king’s evidence, and who hopes to get the promised reward, of being implicated in Bursey’s murder.”

The two brothers looked at each other. Hugh could scarcely restrain his feelings; a sense of bitter shame predominated, however, for the disgrace he had hoped to escape might still fall on his family. Arthur earnestly prayed that the information might be false, and that his unhappy brother was innocent. The prisoner was supposed to have made his way to Southampton, and to have escaped on board a foreign-bound ship.

Several months passed away; it was the autumn. Arthur had gone to spend some days with Mary and her husband. He had ridden over to call on some friends at Christchurch. A heavy equinoctial gale was blowing from the south-west. As he was returning along the coast, wishing to obtain a view of the stormy sea, now covered with foaming waves, he observed a large lugger, under a press of sail, standing towards the shore. A number of people were collected on the beach, and he guessed, from the light waggons and horses of which he had caught sight, that preparations were being made for running a cargo of smuggled goods, then often done in open day, the Revenue officers being either enticed away or bribed not to interfere.

The danger a vessel must encounter venturing in at that time appeared fearfully great. He could not bring himself to leave the spot. The reason of the lugger’s attempting the hazardous experiment, however, was evident. In the offing appeared a sloop-of-war, and one, he knew, had been sent to cruise after smugglers. From remarks he overheard, he discovered that the lugger was theSaucy Sally, commanded by Slippery Rogers. Every moment the gale was increasing, and the surf came rolling with greater and greater force upon the beach. Those on shore threw up a signal to show that landing was impossible, but the fearless crew of the lugger pushed madly on. One instant she appeared with her broad spread of canvas swelling to the gale; the next, surrounded by the fierce waves dashing up madly around her, she lay shattered to fragments on the shingly beach, her crew struggling vainly in the surf. Some few amid the wreck, and casks and bales, which formed her cargo, were washed on shore, but the greater number were carried out far beyond human reach by the receding waves. Of those who were saved, several were fearfully injured, some breathed their last as they were dragged out of the water. Arthur offered that assistance which the rough men were little able to afford. He had sent off for a surgeon, and having attended to two of the sufferers, hastened to the side of a third, who seemed to have received some severe injuries. As he knelt down he recognised the countenance of his unhappy brother Gilbert, who, opening his eyes, fixed them on his face.

“We obtained a reprieve,” said Arthur. “Why did you escape? you knew I had gone to obtain it.”

“I did not trust to the king’s mercy; and as I had the opportunity, I determined to avail myself of it,” answered Gilbert in a feeble voice.

“Our king is a merciful sovereign; he has ever shown a readiness to forgive when his sense of justice will allow him,” answered Arthur. “But oh! how much more merciful is our Father in heaven; and His justice having been amply satisfied by the willing sacrifice of His dear Son, who died for sinners, He is abundantly ready to forgive the sinner who trusts to that full atonement made for his sins! I speak thus, dear Gilbert, for I fear your time on earth is short.”

“I know it is,” answered Gilbert. “Oh! continue to speak as you have begun. I knew myself to be a guilty, outcast sinner before I left the prison. What you had said to me sunk into my heart. It was for your sake and for Hugh’s more than my own that I escaped; and I came back in the lugger resolved not to participate in the profits of the enterprise.”

Arthur sighed.

“Those who associate with evil-doers share in their doings,” he was compelled to remark, but he dwelt not on that subject.

“My dear brother,” he continued, “we are all sinners in the sight of a pure and holy God, who cannot look upon iniquity; but He in His love and mercy has provided a fountain in which all our sins, however black, however foul, can be washed away; and He tells us in His Word that though they be red like crimson, they shall become as white as snow, and though they be as scarlet, they become as wool—that He will put them as far from us as the east is from the west. To that fountain which flowed from the side of Jesus when He hung on the cross, offering himself up as a full and sufficient sacrifice in God’s sight for the sins of all who trust in Him, let me urge you to turn your eyes; believe in that loving Saviour that He died for you, as well as for other sinners; that His heart yearns toward you; that He desires you to come to Him and be saved.”

“I remember, Arthur, that you said this to me in prison; but I hardened my heart. I was strong and well, and feared not death,” answered Gilbert, with a deep sigh. “I can do nothing to merit heaven—it’s too late now, it’s too late.”

“It is never too late,” exclaimed Arthur. “The arms of Jesus are ever ready to receive all who come to Him in simple faith, trusting to His merits alone, and not to any merits of their own, or anything they ever can do to deserve His favour; banish such a thought from your mind. By His free grace He gives us salvation: remember the thief on the cross; he simply turned his dying eye on his crucified Lord, acknowledging that He was the Son of God, and the same answer Jesus gave to him He will give to you if you believe on Him. Remember, too, how the Israelites in the wilderness, bitten by the fiery serpents, were told to look on the serpent of brass, the emblem of healing held up by Moses, and no sooner did they look than they were healed. How merciful, how loving, how gracious, is our Father in heaven, who, knowing the frailty of poor human beings, has thus provided so simple, so easy, and yet so all-sufficient a means by which they may be saved.”

Arthur, animated by love for his brother’s soul, continued thus to plead with him, for he dreaded lest he might die in the attempt to move him. He would have pleaded, however, in the same way with any other sufferer, for he knew the value of human souls.

At length several of the people assembled round him, and charitably offered to convey the injured man to a cottage at some little distance from the beach.

“Let me be taken there,” whispered Gilbert; “there is another I should wish to see, to ask her forgiveness for all the pain and sorrow I have caused her, but do not leave me.”

A litter was speedily formed with a couple of spars and a piece of sail, and Gilbert being placed on it, four fishermen conveyed him towards the cottage, Arthur walking by his side, still holding his hand. The men seeing that Arthur was a clergyman, were not surprised at the attention he paid to the dying man, nor did they suspect the relationship.

“I am praying for you,” whispered Arthur; “and oh, let me entreat you to pray for yourself.”

“I am trying to do so, but I find it hard. My faith is weak—too weak I fear to avail me,” gasped the dying man.

“Though it be but like a grain of mustard seed, He has promised that it shall remove mountains,” answered Arthur.

The cottage, happily the abode of Christian people, was reached. The sufferer was placed on a bed prepared for him by the good woman of the house, and Arthur immediately sent off a messenger to summon Mary and her husband, as well as a surgeon, in the hopes that his skill might benefit his brother. Anxiously he watched the livelong night by the side of Arthur’s couch, and it was with joy unspeakable that towards morning he heard him whisper, “God has answered my prayer; I believe that His Son Jesus Christ died for me, the just for the unjust, and that through His merits my numberless sins are put away.” Soon afterwards the surgeon arrived. After examining Gilbert, he took Arthur aside. “The injuries the poor fellow has received are such as I fear no human skill can remedy. I will do my best, but I can give no hopes of his recovery; he is a fitter subject for your care than mine, though these smugglers are such ruffians that I do not suppose you will be able to do much with him.”

“We are all by nature rebels to God,” answered Arthur, endeavouring to conceal his feelings. “I will, as you advise, remain with the poor man, and follow the directions you give.”

The surgeon told Arthur what he advised and took his departure, and Arthur hastened back to his brother. Mary and her husband arrived early in the morning. Gilbert, though too weak to speak, knew his sister, and showed by signs that he understood what she said. He pressed her hand, and a smile lighted up his countenance when she assured him that she had never ceased to pray for him, and to feel the same affection for him as of yore.

“Those prayers have been answered, have they not?” said Arthur bending over his brother, and he repeated the last words Gilbert had uttered, “I believe that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin.” Again a bright look passed across Gilbert’s countenance, and holding the hands of the loving ones kneeling by his side, his spirit passed away. One of his last requests had been that he might be buried with his hapless companions who had been rescued from the waves. It was complied with, and no one besides those who were with him at his death knew that the shipwrecked smuggler was Gilbert Maitland.

Oh that the young could see the fearful termination of the broad road they are tempted by Satan to follow, ere they take the first downward step along it!

The End.

Story 4--Chapter I.STORY IV—THE IVORY TRADER; A TALE OF AFRICA.To the north of the Cape of Good Hope Colony, beyond the Great Orange River, an extensive level region exists, known as the Kalahara Desert. Here no running streams are found to fertilise the plain, and often for miles and miles together, not a well nor pool is to be discovered, from which the weary traveller can quench his burning thirst. Yet destitute as it is of water, it is in many parts covered with grass, and an immense variety of creeping plants; while in some places large patches of bushes, and even trees, find nourishment in the seeming arid soil, and countless multitudes of wild animals, especially those which require but little water, or can go many days together without drinking, roam over its trackless wilds.This region passed, a fertile country is found, thickly populated by dark-skinned tribes, who till of late years have had no intercourse with white men. Here an almost countless number of rivers and streams are found, some flowing into the mighty Zambesi, and others into Lake Ngami.Notwithstanding the dangers which must be encountered in crossing the vast Kalahara Desert, from the scarcity of water, the intense heat, the wild beasts, the savage people who inhabit its borders, and more than all, from the attacks of the Tsetse fly, whose poisonous bite speedily destroys cattle and horses, white traders from the colony occasionally traverse it, for the purpose of obtaining ivory from the natives.A tilted waggon belonging to one of these traders, dragged by a span of fourteen oxen, was slowly moving across the wide-extending plain. On the box sat a Hottentot driver, his whip in hand, with lash of prodigious length, reaching even to the leading animals shouting out at the same time strange sounds to urge them on. A dozen dark-skinned men, some clad in jacket and trousers, and broad-brimmed hats, but others having merely a cloth or kilt round their loins, moved along by the side of the waggon. A few were seated on oxen, and the rest marched on foot, mostly with arms in their hands. Among those on foot was a young lad, whose dark skin showed that he was an African, though his features had somewhat of the Asiatic character. He was dressed more in the English fashion than the other black men, though his firm step and independent air proved that young Kibo was well accustomed to traverse the desert wilds. Ahead of the caravan stalked, with spear in hand, the Bechuana guide Masiko, whose people inhabit the region to the south of the desert, over all parts of which, from his earliest youth, he had wandered. His only garment was a cotton scarf, or plaid of a dark colour, thrown over his shoulders and wound round his waist, so as to form a kilt reaching to his knees, his woolly head and his feet being without covering. Two horses without saddles followed the waggon, secured to it by thongs of hide, and several spare oxen kept pace with the vehicle, ready to supply the places of any of the team which might knock up on the road.Two white persons mounted on strong horses brought up the rear of the caravan. One Mr Robert Vincent, the owner of the waggon and its varied contents, was a strongly-built man of middle age, his countenance well tanned by African suns; the other a lad of about fifteen years of age apparently, who, from his slightly-built figure, looked scarcely capable of enduring the fatigues, of the journey before him.The bright sun shining down from the cloudless sky shed a peculiar glare over the whole scene, the atmosphere quivering with heat. Here and there a few bushes rose above the surface, and broke the ocean-like horizon; but so exactly did they resemble one another, that to even the well-practised eye of the trader, they were useless as landmarks to direct his course. He had, therefore, entirely to depend on the guidance of Masiko, to conduct the caravan to the different water-holes and wells on the road across the desert.Already both men and beasts were suffering greatly from thirst, for at the last halting-place no water had been obtained, and there was a fear that the oxen would break down altogether, unless they should soon reach the wells which the guide assured him would be found ahead.“Had I supposed we should have found water so scarce on this route, I would have left you at Mr Warden’s station till my return, Martin,” observed Mr Vincent to the lad by his side. “But I wanted to give you an insight into the dealing of the natives, for which no small amount of experience is required, that you may be able to help me in my business, and be competent in a few years to take charge of a trading expedition yourself.”“I shall be very glad if I can be of assistance to you, father,” answered Martin. “I already feel myself the better for the dry air of the desert. I was very happy with Mr Warden, and should have been content to remain and help him and his wife in the numerous duties they have to perform.”“He is a good man, no doubt, Martin,” observed the trader; “but his is not a money-making calling, and it is not one I should wish you to follow.”“If you had not wanted me to help you, father, from what I learned and saw while I was with Mr Warden, I would rather have become a missionary like him than be of any other profession,” answered young Martin.“Oh! you must put such foolish ideas out of your head, Martin. It is very well for those who are paid for it, and are not fit for anything better, but I want my son to be a man of the world, to make money, and to become some day one of the leading merchants of Cape Town.”Young Martin made no reply. On his father’s previous journey from the Cape, Martin had accompanied him, but, unaccustomed to travelling, he had fallen sick, and had been left at the Missionary-station of Mr Warden. Though the trader looked upon the illness of his son as a great misfortune, young Martin had good reason soon to believe it the happiest event of his life. He there for the first time became practically acquainted with the glorious truths of the gospel: he learned that man is a sinner, and by nature a rebel against God, and that through the atonement and mediation of Jesus Christ can he alone become reconciled to Him.This truth brought home to his own heart, he at once comprehended the importance of the efforts which Mr Warden, and the missionary-band engaged with him, were making to carry the gospel of love and mercy among the savage hordes by whom they were surrounded; he knew it to be the only means by which their natures could be changed, and they can become not only civilised members of society, but, what is of far more consequence, heirs of eternal life. He therefore, rejoicing in the blessings he had himself received, felt an earnest desire to engage in the glorious work of carrying the same blessings to the dark-skinned races of that land, long so deeply plunged in ignorance.Though his health had been completely restored, he would therefore far rather have remained with the missionary than have taken the journey to which his father summoned him. But he had learned that obedience to parents is among the first duties of a Christian; and thus, after he had frankly expressed his wish to remain, when his father still desired his company, he had no longer hesitated to obey his summons.He was accompanied by Kibo, the son of a chief of one of the tribes to the north of the desert, whom Mr Vincent purposed visiting. Kibo had been carried away from his home into slavery by the great Matabele leader Moselekatse, in one of his marauding expeditions against the territory inhabited by the lad’s tribe four or five years before this.During a visit Mr Warden had paid to Moselekatse, he had seen young Kibo, then apparently on the point of death, and inducing the chief to give him his liberty, had carried him to the Missionary-station, where recovering, he was instructed in the truths of Christianity. The lad became a true and earnest convert, and his heart yearned to visit his parents and friends, and to tell them the good news he had heard. Mr Warden, believing him to be confirmed in the faith, had consented to his accompanying Martin, in the hopes that by his means his tribe might be induced to receive a missionary of the gospel among them.The trader and his son rode on for some time in silence, the former indeed was beginning to feel too anxious about the chances of finding water at the end of the day’s journey to talk much. Already many hours had passed since they had left the last water-holes. Although there was still a sufficient supply in the leathern bottles carried in the waggon to prevent them and their men from feeling much inconvenience from thirst, both horses and oxen were already suffering from want of the moisture so necessary to enable them to swallow their food. They had stopped as usual during the heat of the day; but though there was an abundance of grass, it was so dry that it crumbled in the hand, and the poor animals as they chewed it turned it about in their mouths, in a vain endeavour to get it down their throats.Robert Vincent had ordered his men to inspan or harness the cattle at an earlier hour than usual, hoping by pushing on to gain the promised pool before nightfall; but the oxen, already fatigued by their previous long journey, were unable to move as fast as usual, in spite of all the efforts of their driver.The trader, at length losing patience, rode on by the side of the guide, and inquired when they were to reach the pool he had spoken of.“Not till after the sun has sunk far beyond yonder distant line, unless the oxen move faster than they are now doing,” answered the guide, pointing to the western horizon.The trader shouted to the driver. Again and again he made his huge whip crack, as he struck his team in succession, but without effect; nothing would induce the poor animals to hasten their steps.“I am much inclined to ride forward, and try and find out the wells myself,” said Mr Vincent to his son. “I am not quite sure that our guide is not playing us false. If I thought so, I would shoot him through the head. It is wiser to trust to one’s own sagacity than to a treacherous guide.”“O father! do not use violence,” exclaimed Martin. “Gentle words and kindness will have more effect in keeping him faithful. I have no fear about him, for he has long been known to Mr Warden, who has perfect confidence in him.”“Why do you think he should have confidence in him, Martin?” asked his father.“Because, though he was once a fierce savage, he has become a faithful Christian, and as such would be ready to sacrifice his own life rather than risk ours when he has promised to serve us.”“I am afraid the fellows are all much alike,” observed Mr Vincent. “The only way of making them faithful is not to pay them till the journey is over. I only hope he and young Kibo will answer your expectations. For my part, I have found the heathen black men as trustworthy as the whites.”“Yes, father,” said Martin, “because in too many instances the whites are merely nominal Christians. Mr Warden has shown me the difference between a real and nominal Christian, and it is of the first I speak. All men are fallible, and even in them we cannot hope to find perfection, but still they can be trusted to do their best.”“Well, well, Martin, when you know more of the world, perhaps you will change your opinion,” remarked the trader in an indifferent tone. “However, water must be found; and as we have still yearly an hour’s daylight, we may even yet reach it if we push on before dark.”The trader and his son rode on, though their weary steeds did not move as fast as they wished.“What is that?” exclaimed the elder Vincent, pointing to an object moving among the dry grass some distance ahead. “A lion; we must put a shot into him, or he will be paying the cattle a visit to-night.”Spurring on his horse, he galloped forward, followed by Martin.“Don’t fire, father!” cried Martin, “it is a human being.”Martin was right. They soon discovered that the object they had seen was an old bushwoman, although, but for the scanty clothing which covered her wretchedly thin and diminutive body, she might have been mistaken for some wild animal. She seemed dreadfully frightened, as if expecting instant death. Martin by speaking to the old woman somewhat reassured her.“Water must be near, and she will know where to find it,” observed his father; “so she must come with us whether she likes it or no, and act as our guide.”The poor creature was soon made to understand what she was required to do, while Martin assured her that she should receive no harm, and should be well rewarded. Still this poor wanderer of the desert, accustomed all her life to ill-treatment, seemed to doubt the motives of her captors, and turned her head about, as if meditating an escape. Knowing, however, that she could not outstrip the horses, she walked quietly on, every now and then looking up and imploring the strangers not to hurt her. Her husband, her sole companion, she said, was in the neighbourhood, and would be wondering what had become of her.“Show us the water, and you shall return to him when you wish,” said the elder Vincent.She replied that it would take nearly an hour to reach it.“Look out then for the waggon, Martin, or it may pass us; for on this hard ground even Masiko may fail to see our tracks.”Martin did as he was told, and, greatly to his relief, at length met the caravan.It moved forward for some time. Martin could nowhere see his father. Masiko made him feel anxious, by hinting that the old woman might, under the pretence of looking for water, have enticed him among a band of her own people, notorious, he said, for their treachery. Martin on this would have ridden forward, had he not received directions to bring on the caravan.The sun was nearly touching the western horizon, when, to his great relief, he at length caught sight of his father’s horse in the distance. At the same instant the cattle began to move on faster than they had hitherto done.“Water! water!” shouted the thirsty people, and the whole party rushed forward ahead of the waggon. Martin, who led the way, could see no pool. The old woman, however, was on her knees, scraping the sand from a hole, out of which she began to ladle with a little cup a small quantity of water into three or four ostrich eggs, carried in a net at her back.“I am afraid our poor oxen will not be much the better for this discovery,” observed Martin when he reached his father.“Wait a bit, our men will soon dig more wells, though it may be some hours before we shall have water sufficient for the animals,” was the answer.The men as they came up commenced digging with their hands in the soft sand a number of holes some distance apart.As soon as the waggon arrived, the order was given to outspann. Fires were lighted, the neighbouring bushes affording sufficient fuel, and all the usual preparations for camping were made.Martin did not forget the old bushwoman, and with his father’s leave gave her, to her no little astonishment and delight, a piece of meat and a bunch of beads, and two or three other trifling articles.The people were employed for several hours in cleaning out the sand from the holes, for as fast as they dug, it again rolled down and filled them up. Gradually, however, the water oozed out from the sides, and towards morning there was a sufficient quantity to afford a little to each of the thirsty horses and oxen.Directly the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky the oxen were inspanned, and the journey recommenced. On search being made for the old bushwoman, it was discovered that she had decamped. Mean and wretched though she was, she had rendered an essential service to the strangers, but she probably thought them as treacherous as they had supposed her to be.

To the north of the Cape of Good Hope Colony, beyond the Great Orange River, an extensive level region exists, known as the Kalahara Desert. Here no running streams are found to fertilise the plain, and often for miles and miles together, not a well nor pool is to be discovered, from which the weary traveller can quench his burning thirst. Yet destitute as it is of water, it is in many parts covered with grass, and an immense variety of creeping plants; while in some places large patches of bushes, and even trees, find nourishment in the seeming arid soil, and countless multitudes of wild animals, especially those which require but little water, or can go many days together without drinking, roam over its trackless wilds.

This region passed, a fertile country is found, thickly populated by dark-skinned tribes, who till of late years have had no intercourse with white men. Here an almost countless number of rivers and streams are found, some flowing into the mighty Zambesi, and others into Lake Ngami.

Notwithstanding the dangers which must be encountered in crossing the vast Kalahara Desert, from the scarcity of water, the intense heat, the wild beasts, the savage people who inhabit its borders, and more than all, from the attacks of the Tsetse fly, whose poisonous bite speedily destroys cattle and horses, white traders from the colony occasionally traverse it, for the purpose of obtaining ivory from the natives.

A tilted waggon belonging to one of these traders, dragged by a span of fourteen oxen, was slowly moving across the wide-extending plain. On the box sat a Hottentot driver, his whip in hand, with lash of prodigious length, reaching even to the leading animals shouting out at the same time strange sounds to urge them on. A dozen dark-skinned men, some clad in jacket and trousers, and broad-brimmed hats, but others having merely a cloth or kilt round their loins, moved along by the side of the waggon. A few were seated on oxen, and the rest marched on foot, mostly with arms in their hands. Among those on foot was a young lad, whose dark skin showed that he was an African, though his features had somewhat of the Asiatic character. He was dressed more in the English fashion than the other black men, though his firm step and independent air proved that young Kibo was well accustomed to traverse the desert wilds. Ahead of the caravan stalked, with spear in hand, the Bechuana guide Masiko, whose people inhabit the region to the south of the desert, over all parts of which, from his earliest youth, he had wandered. His only garment was a cotton scarf, or plaid of a dark colour, thrown over his shoulders and wound round his waist, so as to form a kilt reaching to his knees, his woolly head and his feet being without covering. Two horses without saddles followed the waggon, secured to it by thongs of hide, and several spare oxen kept pace with the vehicle, ready to supply the places of any of the team which might knock up on the road.

Two white persons mounted on strong horses brought up the rear of the caravan. One Mr Robert Vincent, the owner of the waggon and its varied contents, was a strongly-built man of middle age, his countenance well tanned by African suns; the other a lad of about fifteen years of age apparently, who, from his slightly-built figure, looked scarcely capable of enduring the fatigues, of the journey before him.

The bright sun shining down from the cloudless sky shed a peculiar glare over the whole scene, the atmosphere quivering with heat. Here and there a few bushes rose above the surface, and broke the ocean-like horizon; but so exactly did they resemble one another, that to even the well-practised eye of the trader, they were useless as landmarks to direct his course. He had, therefore, entirely to depend on the guidance of Masiko, to conduct the caravan to the different water-holes and wells on the road across the desert.

Already both men and beasts were suffering greatly from thirst, for at the last halting-place no water had been obtained, and there was a fear that the oxen would break down altogether, unless they should soon reach the wells which the guide assured him would be found ahead.

“Had I supposed we should have found water so scarce on this route, I would have left you at Mr Warden’s station till my return, Martin,” observed Mr Vincent to the lad by his side. “But I wanted to give you an insight into the dealing of the natives, for which no small amount of experience is required, that you may be able to help me in my business, and be competent in a few years to take charge of a trading expedition yourself.”

“I shall be very glad if I can be of assistance to you, father,” answered Martin. “I already feel myself the better for the dry air of the desert. I was very happy with Mr Warden, and should have been content to remain and help him and his wife in the numerous duties they have to perform.”

“He is a good man, no doubt, Martin,” observed the trader; “but his is not a money-making calling, and it is not one I should wish you to follow.”

“If you had not wanted me to help you, father, from what I learned and saw while I was with Mr Warden, I would rather have become a missionary like him than be of any other profession,” answered young Martin.

“Oh! you must put such foolish ideas out of your head, Martin. It is very well for those who are paid for it, and are not fit for anything better, but I want my son to be a man of the world, to make money, and to become some day one of the leading merchants of Cape Town.”

Young Martin made no reply. On his father’s previous journey from the Cape, Martin had accompanied him, but, unaccustomed to travelling, he had fallen sick, and had been left at the Missionary-station of Mr Warden. Though the trader looked upon the illness of his son as a great misfortune, young Martin had good reason soon to believe it the happiest event of his life. He there for the first time became practically acquainted with the glorious truths of the gospel: he learned that man is a sinner, and by nature a rebel against God, and that through the atonement and mediation of Jesus Christ can he alone become reconciled to Him.

This truth brought home to his own heart, he at once comprehended the importance of the efforts which Mr Warden, and the missionary-band engaged with him, were making to carry the gospel of love and mercy among the savage hordes by whom they were surrounded; he knew it to be the only means by which their natures could be changed, and they can become not only civilised members of society, but, what is of far more consequence, heirs of eternal life. He therefore, rejoicing in the blessings he had himself received, felt an earnest desire to engage in the glorious work of carrying the same blessings to the dark-skinned races of that land, long so deeply plunged in ignorance.

Though his health had been completely restored, he would therefore far rather have remained with the missionary than have taken the journey to which his father summoned him. But he had learned that obedience to parents is among the first duties of a Christian; and thus, after he had frankly expressed his wish to remain, when his father still desired his company, he had no longer hesitated to obey his summons.

He was accompanied by Kibo, the son of a chief of one of the tribes to the north of the desert, whom Mr Vincent purposed visiting. Kibo had been carried away from his home into slavery by the great Matabele leader Moselekatse, in one of his marauding expeditions against the territory inhabited by the lad’s tribe four or five years before this.

During a visit Mr Warden had paid to Moselekatse, he had seen young Kibo, then apparently on the point of death, and inducing the chief to give him his liberty, had carried him to the Missionary-station, where recovering, he was instructed in the truths of Christianity. The lad became a true and earnest convert, and his heart yearned to visit his parents and friends, and to tell them the good news he had heard. Mr Warden, believing him to be confirmed in the faith, had consented to his accompanying Martin, in the hopes that by his means his tribe might be induced to receive a missionary of the gospel among them.

The trader and his son rode on for some time in silence, the former indeed was beginning to feel too anxious about the chances of finding water at the end of the day’s journey to talk much. Already many hours had passed since they had left the last water-holes. Although there was still a sufficient supply in the leathern bottles carried in the waggon to prevent them and their men from feeling much inconvenience from thirst, both horses and oxen were already suffering from want of the moisture so necessary to enable them to swallow their food. They had stopped as usual during the heat of the day; but though there was an abundance of grass, it was so dry that it crumbled in the hand, and the poor animals as they chewed it turned it about in their mouths, in a vain endeavour to get it down their throats.

Robert Vincent had ordered his men to inspan or harness the cattle at an earlier hour than usual, hoping by pushing on to gain the promised pool before nightfall; but the oxen, already fatigued by their previous long journey, were unable to move as fast as usual, in spite of all the efforts of their driver.

The trader, at length losing patience, rode on by the side of the guide, and inquired when they were to reach the pool he had spoken of.

“Not till after the sun has sunk far beyond yonder distant line, unless the oxen move faster than they are now doing,” answered the guide, pointing to the western horizon.

The trader shouted to the driver. Again and again he made his huge whip crack, as he struck his team in succession, but without effect; nothing would induce the poor animals to hasten their steps.

“I am much inclined to ride forward, and try and find out the wells myself,” said Mr Vincent to his son. “I am not quite sure that our guide is not playing us false. If I thought so, I would shoot him through the head. It is wiser to trust to one’s own sagacity than to a treacherous guide.”

“O father! do not use violence,” exclaimed Martin. “Gentle words and kindness will have more effect in keeping him faithful. I have no fear about him, for he has long been known to Mr Warden, who has perfect confidence in him.”

“Why do you think he should have confidence in him, Martin?” asked his father.

“Because, though he was once a fierce savage, he has become a faithful Christian, and as such would be ready to sacrifice his own life rather than risk ours when he has promised to serve us.”

“I am afraid the fellows are all much alike,” observed Mr Vincent. “The only way of making them faithful is not to pay them till the journey is over. I only hope he and young Kibo will answer your expectations. For my part, I have found the heathen black men as trustworthy as the whites.”

“Yes, father,” said Martin, “because in too many instances the whites are merely nominal Christians. Mr Warden has shown me the difference between a real and nominal Christian, and it is of the first I speak. All men are fallible, and even in them we cannot hope to find perfection, but still they can be trusted to do their best.”

“Well, well, Martin, when you know more of the world, perhaps you will change your opinion,” remarked the trader in an indifferent tone. “However, water must be found; and as we have still yearly an hour’s daylight, we may even yet reach it if we push on before dark.”

The trader and his son rode on, though their weary steeds did not move as fast as they wished.

“What is that?” exclaimed the elder Vincent, pointing to an object moving among the dry grass some distance ahead. “A lion; we must put a shot into him, or he will be paying the cattle a visit to-night.”

Spurring on his horse, he galloped forward, followed by Martin.

“Don’t fire, father!” cried Martin, “it is a human being.”

Martin was right. They soon discovered that the object they had seen was an old bushwoman, although, but for the scanty clothing which covered her wretchedly thin and diminutive body, she might have been mistaken for some wild animal. She seemed dreadfully frightened, as if expecting instant death. Martin by speaking to the old woman somewhat reassured her.

“Water must be near, and she will know where to find it,” observed his father; “so she must come with us whether she likes it or no, and act as our guide.”

The poor creature was soon made to understand what she was required to do, while Martin assured her that she should receive no harm, and should be well rewarded. Still this poor wanderer of the desert, accustomed all her life to ill-treatment, seemed to doubt the motives of her captors, and turned her head about, as if meditating an escape. Knowing, however, that she could not outstrip the horses, she walked quietly on, every now and then looking up and imploring the strangers not to hurt her. Her husband, her sole companion, she said, was in the neighbourhood, and would be wondering what had become of her.

“Show us the water, and you shall return to him when you wish,” said the elder Vincent.

She replied that it would take nearly an hour to reach it.

“Look out then for the waggon, Martin, or it may pass us; for on this hard ground even Masiko may fail to see our tracks.”

Martin did as he was told, and, greatly to his relief, at length met the caravan.

It moved forward for some time. Martin could nowhere see his father. Masiko made him feel anxious, by hinting that the old woman might, under the pretence of looking for water, have enticed him among a band of her own people, notorious, he said, for their treachery. Martin on this would have ridden forward, had he not received directions to bring on the caravan.

The sun was nearly touching the western horizon, when, to his great relief, he at length caught sight of his father’s horse in the distance. At the same instant the cattle began to move on faster than they had hitherto done.

“Water! water!” shouted the thirsty people, and the whole party rushed forward ahead of the waggon. Martin, who led the way, could see no pool. The old woman, however, was on her knees, scraping the sand from a hole, out of which she began to ladle with a little cup a small quantity of water into three or four ostrich eggs, carried in a net at her back.

“I am afraid our poor oxen will not be much the better for this discovery,” observed Martin when he reached his father.

“Wait a bit, our men will soon dig more wells, though it may be some hours before we shall have water sufficient for the animals,” was the answer.

The men as they came up commenced digging with their hands in the soft sand a number of holes some distance apart.

As soon as the waggon arrived, the order was given to outspann. Fires were lighted, the neighbouring bushes affording sufficient fuel, and all the usual preparations for camping were made.

Martin did not forget the old bushwoman, and with his father’s leave gave her, to her no little astonishment and delight, a piece of meat and a bunch of beads, and two or three other trifling articles.

The people were employed for several hours in cleaning out the sand from the holes, for as fast as they dug, it again rolled down and filled them up. Gradually, however, the water oozed out from the sides, and towards morning there was a sufficient quantity to afford a little to each of the thirsty horses and oxen.

Directly the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky the oxen were inspanned, and the journey recommenced. On search being made for the old bushwoman, it was discovered that she had decamped. Mean and wretched though she was, she had rendered an essential service to the strangers, but she probably thought them as treacherous as they had supposed her to be.

Story 4--Chapter II.For several hours the weary oxen dragged on the waggon, slightly refreshed by the limited amount of water they had obtained, and at length they began to show signs of thirst. Masiko confessed that he knew of no pool within the distance of another day’s journey, and as the heat had been excessive, he could not be certain that water would be found in it. It was a question whether the oxen could get as far without drinking. Noon was approaching, and it would have been worse than useless to attempt moving on while the sun was overhead. Again they outspanned. The men sat down to sleep in the limited shade the waggon afforded; but the poor animals had to stand out in the full glare of the hot sun, turning their heads in the direction whence came a light breeze, which prevented the atmosphere being altogether insupportable.They had halted about a couple of hours, when two objects were seen moving across the boundless plain towards them. They proved to be the little, yellow-skinned, shrivelled old bushwoman, and a man of the same hue, and as scantily dressed as herself. They came without hesitation up to the waggon. Martin hastened forward, and in a kind tone thanked them for coming to the camp, assuring them that they were welcome and would be protected.“Can you show us where we can find water?” he asked.Their reply convinced him that Masiko was right, and that there was none to be found nearer than he had said. They, however, told him that if he would accompany them a short distance, they would point out where to obtain what would answer the purpose of water. As his father was asleep in the waggon, Martin did not wish to disturb him, and therefore called Kibo, who had meantime been speaking to the bushman and his wife.“Do you think they can be trusted, Kibo?” Martin asked.“Yes, good people; no do harm,” answered the lad in broken English.“Then we will go with them.”Martin, saddling his horse, called two of the most trustworthy men to follow on the spare horses, while Kibo mounting another, they set out in company with the little bushman and his wife.They had proceeded some distance, when the latter pointed out a creeping plant, with long leaves and a thin, delicate stalk, spreading over the ground in various directions. Both the man and his wife had stones in their hands with which they struck the ground at various spots, at about equal distances from the centre of the plant, and then made signs to the people who had accompanied them to dig, setting the example themselves. After throwing out the sand to the depth of a foot and a half they came to a tuber, three or four times as large as an ordinary turnip; and at each spot where they had struck a similar one was procured. On breaking open one of the tubers, it was found to be full of juice.“These very good, me remember them before,” observed Kibo.Martin and the Hottentot loaded their horses with as many of the tubers as they could carry, perceiving at once what a rich treat they would prove to the thirsty and starving cattle.Having first fed their own animals, they quickly returned with their prize to the camp, accompanied by the bushman and his wife. Martin having rewarded them, they expressed their readiness to show where more tubers could be found. The riding oxen having been fed, another party was despatched to obtain a further supply. On their return they were able, as soon as the heat of the day was over, to proceed on to the northward.“Though I was inclined to look with contempt on those poor little wretches, father, see how useful they have been to us,” observed Martin. “It goes to prove, as Mr Warden says, that none of the human race should be despised; and debased as they may be, they are capable of improvement, and have immortal souls which we should value not less than those of our other fellow-creatures.”“As to that, my boy, I doubt whether you would ever make anything out of those wretched little bush-people. Well, well! you have got a number of new notions into your head. However, when we reach the Makololo, you will have other things to occupy your thoughts; they are sharp fellows, and we shall have to keep our eyes open when dealing with them.”Martin knew that it would be his duty to assist his father to the best of his abilities, and he promised to do so.They moved on till dark, and started again at dawn, no water having been found. Had it not been for the roots which God has caused to grow in this arid desert to supply the wants of His creatures, the oxen must have perished.Just as they were about to outspann after their morning’s journey, the little bushman beckoned to Martin, and intimated that he could lead them to a place where another production of nature could be found which would assist to sustain the cattle.Martin, summoning three men to attend him with their oxen, and some large nets used to carry fodder, followed his volunteer guide, who, to show his confidence, left his wife with the waggon.The country over which they passed was even more barren and arid than any he had yet seen.At length, after travelling several miles, some large green objects were seen, which, to his surprise and delight, he discovered were a species of water-melon.The Hottentots immediately rushed at them; the first man cut a huge slice with his axe, but no sooner did he put his mouth to it than he cast it aside with a look of disgust and bitter disappointment. The cattle, however, passing by several, began greedily eating others they came to. Meantime the little guide, after tasting two or three which he threw down, pointed to some which he signified were good. Martin now found that some were intensely bitter, while others were sweet and full of juice; this, however, could only be ascertained by tasting each.The party having now satisfied their own thirst, collected as many of the sweet melons as their animals could carry, and returned with them to the camp.“That bushman is a serviceable little fellow,” observed Mr Vincent. “I have often seen both the tubers and the melons, but I have never found them before in this part of the desert. The latter seldom last long after the rains, as not only do the natives of the desert collect them, but elephants, and rhinoceroses, and even lions and hyenas, come from a distance to devour them. It was probably in consequence of the arid character of the surrounding desert that the patch to which the bushman took you has escaped a visit from them.”Martin begged that he might be allowed to reward his guide, who seemed well satisfied with an axe and several other useful articles, as well as some beads which he received.“You should have waited till they can be of no further use before giving them presents,” observed his father. “Depend upon it, they will be off before long; and it Masiko, as I suspect, has lost his way, we shall be in no small difficulty.”Martin hoped that their new friends would prove faithful, though as the waggon moved on during the afternoon they said something which made him suspect that their wanderings did not extend much further to the north. They, however, accompanied the caravan to the end of the day’s journey; but when morning broke they were nowhere to be seen, they had gone off, as the old woman had before, without being observed by the watch, who had probably been slumbering at the time.Here a whole day was spent, that both men and beasts might obtain that rest they so much required.Again the caravan was on the move. Masiko urged that they should push on as rapidly as possible, for he could not say when they might next reach water. But a small supply remained in their skin bottles.The horses and cattle were again suffering greatly. First one of the oxen in the team fell, then another, and another; and though their places were supplied by the spare animals, the waggon continued to move on at an unusually slow pace.The last drop of water in the skins was exhausted, and even some of the men accustomed to desert travelling declared they could go no further.The sun was striking down on their heads with intense force. The men’s lips were parched, their eyes bloodshot. The animals moved on with open mouths, lowing piteously in their sufferings. The trader began to fear that the whole party would knock up. In that case, his only hope of saving his own life and that of his son would be to abandon them with his waggon and goods, and to gallop forward, on the chance of finding water.They had ridden some distance ahead of the caravan, when Martin, who was a short way in front of his father, shouted out, “Water! water!” pointing as he spoke to a beautiful lake in the distance, its waters, curled by the breeze, shining with intense lustre in the bright sun. On the further shore trees were seen reflected clearly on the surface, while among them appeared a number of elephants cooling themselves by throwing water over their bodies.“We need no longer fear losing our animals, for they will have water enough now to drink their fill,” observed Martin as his father overtook him.Mr Vincent did not answer, but anxiously gazed at the sheet of water. “I know of no lake hereabouts, and it is too important an object not to be known to all who have ever travelled across the desert; yet my eyes cannot be deceived,” he remarked.“Shall I ride back and tell the people?” asked Martin.“Wait till we have ascertained how far off the water is,” said his father; “you may only disappoint them.”“Surely it cannot be very far off, or we should not see those elephants so clearly,” remarked Martin.They now put their horses into a trot, the poor animals were too much fatigued to gallop.Just then the seeming elephants began to move, and suddenly, instead of elephants, a herd of zebras crossed their path, scampering over the ground. The next instant the lake had disappeared, and they found themselves on the borders of an immense expanse of salt, covering the ground as far as the eye could reach to the north and west. On looking behind them, however, they saw both their cattle and men moving rapidly towards the spot, as if they too had been deceived. Bitter was their disappointment when they discovered their mistake. Two of the poor animals dropped and died, now another, and now a fourth; still “Forward! forward!” was the cry. Masiko asserted that water would be at length reached, though it might be some hours’ journey ahead. Thus encouraged, even those who had hitherto been most inclined to despair exerted themselves.“If this is to endure much longer, I fear that I shall be unable to stand it,” observed Martin to Kibo, who was riding by his side. “Should I die, you will promise me, Kibo, to remain with my father, and to do your best to serve him, and try and get him back safely to Mr Warden’s. Perhaps if I die he will be more ready to listen to him than he was during his last visit, and to think that is a great consolation to me. Oh, how willingly would I give up my life to save his, and much more, to enable him to learn the glorious truths which have brought joy to my heart!”The sun was rapidly sinking in the west. They had left the salt expanse some way behind; still the country was as dry and inhospitable as ever. Masiko, at Mr Vincent’s order, had pushed on ahead of the caravan. Suddenly he was seen to wave his spear, and to point with it to a clump of trees, then to rush forward. Mr Vincent, with Martin and Kibo, followed him eagerly.

For several hours the weary oxen dragged on the waggon, slightly refreshed by the limited amount of water they had obtained, and at length they began to show signs of thirst. Masiko confessed that he knew of no pool within the distance of another day’s journey, and as the heat had been excessive, he could not be certain that water would be found in it. It was a question whether the oxen could get as far without drinking. Noon was approaching, and it would have been worse than useless to attempt moving on while the sun was overhead. Again they outspanned. The men sat down to sleep in the limited shade the waggon afforded; but the poor animals had to stand out in the full glare of the hot sun, turning their heads in the direction whence came a light breeze, which prevented the atmosphere being altogether insupportable.

They had halted about a couple of hours, when two objects were seen moving across the boundless plain towards them. They proved to be the little, yellow-skinned, shrivelled old bushwoman, and a man of the same hue, and as scantily dressed as herself. They came without hesitation up to the waggon. Martin hastened forward, and in a kind tone thanked them for coming to the camp, assuring them that they were welcome and would be protected.

“Can you show us where we can find water?” he asked.

Their reply convinced him that Masiko was right, and that there was none to be found nearer than he had said. They, however, told him that if he would accompany them a short distance, they would point out where to obtain what would answer the purpose of water. As his father was asleep in the waggon, Martin did not wish to disturb him, and therefore called Kibo, who had meantime been speaking to the bushman and his wife.

“Do you think they can be trusted, Kibo?” Martin asked.

“Yes, good people; no do harm,” answered the lad in broken English.

“Then we will go with them.”

Martin, saddling his horse, called two of the most trustworthy men to follow on the spare horses, while Kibo mounting another, they set out in company with the little bushman and his wife.

They had proceeded some distance, when the latter pointed out a creeping plant, with long leaves and a thin, delicate stalk, spreading over the ground in various directions. Both the man and his wife had stones in their hands with which they struck the ground at various spots, at about equal distances from the centre of the plant, and then made signs to the people who had accompanied them to dig, setting the example themselves. After throwing out the sand to the depth of a foot and a half they came to a tuber, three or four times as large as an ordinary turnip; and at each spot where they had struck a similar one was procured. On breaking open one of the tubers, it was found to be full of juice.

“These very good, me remember them before,” observed Kibo.

Martin and the Hottentot loaded their horses with as many of the tubers as they could carry, perceiving at once what a rich treat they would prove to the thirsty and starving cattle.

Having first fed their own animals, they quickly returned with their prize to the camp, accompanied by the bushman and his wife. Martin having rewarded them, they expressed their readiness to show where more tubers could be found. The riding oxen having been fed, another party was despatched to obtain a further supply. On their return they were able, as soon as the heat of the day was over, to proceed on to the northward.

“Though I was inclined to look with contempt on those poor little wretches, father, see how useful they have been to us,” observed Martin. “It goes to prove, as Mr Warden says, that none of the human race should be despised; and debased as they may be, they are capable of improvement, and have immortal souls which we should value not less than those of our other fellow-creatures.”

“As to that, my boy, I doubt whether you would ever make anything out of those wretched little bush-people. Well, well! you have got a number of new notions into your head. However, when we reach the Makololo, you will have other things to occupy your thoughts; they are sharp fellows, and we shall have to keep our eyes open when dealing with them.”

Martin knew that it would be his duty to assist his father to the best of his abilities, and he promised to do so.

They moved on till dark, and started again at dawn, no water having been found. Had it not been for the roots which God has caused to grow in this arid desert to supply the wants of His creatures, the oxen must have perished.

Just as they were about to outspann after their morning’s journey, the little bushman beckoned to Martin, and intimated that he could lead them to a place where another production of nature could be found which would assist to sustain the cattle.

Martin, summoning three men to attend him with their oxen, and some large nets used to carry fodder, followed his volunteer guide, who, to show his confidence, left his wife with the waggon.

The country over which they passed was even more barren and arid than any he had yet seen.

At length, after travelling several miles, some large green objects were seen, which, to his surprise and delight, he discovered were a species of water-melon.

The Hottentots immediately rushed at them; the first man cut a huge slice with his axe, but no sooner did he put his mouth to it than he cast it aside with a look of disgust and bitter disappointment. The cattle, however, passing by several, began greedily eating others they came to. Meantime the little guide, after tasting two or three which he threw down, pointed to some which he signified were good. Martin now found that some were intensely bitter, while others were sweet and full of juice; this, however, could only be ascertained by tasting each.

The party having now satisfied their own thirst, collected as many of the sweet melons as their animals could carry, and returned with them to the camp.

“That bushman is a serviceable little fellow,” observed Mr Vincent. “I have often seen both the tubers and the melons, but I have never found them before in this part of the desert. The latter seldom last long after the rains, as not only do the natives of the desert collect them, but elephants, and rhinoceroses, and even lions and hyenas, come from a distance to devour them. It was probably in consequence of the arid character of the surrounding desert that the patch to which the bushman took you has escaped a visit from them.”

Martin begged that he might be allowed to reward his guide, who seemed well satisfied with an axe and several other useful articles, as well as some beads which he received.

“You should have waited till they can be of no further use before giving them presents,” observed his father. “Depend upon it, they will be off before long; and it Masiko, as I suspect, has lost his way, we shall be in no small difficulty.”

Martin hoped that their new friends would prove faithful, though as the waggon moved on during the afternoon they said something which made him suspect that their wanderings did not extend much further to the north. They, however, accompanied the caravan to the end of the day’s journey; but when morning broke they were nowhere to be seen, they had gone off, as the old woman had before, without being observed by the watch, who had probably been slumbering at the time.

Here a whole day was spent, that both men and beasts might obtain that rest they so much required.

Again the caravan was on the move. Masiko urged that they should push on as rapidly as possible, for he could not say when they might next reach water. But a small supply remained in their skin bottles.

The horses and cattle were again suffering greatly. First one of the oxen in the team fell, then another, and another; and though their places were supplied by the spare animals, the waggon continued to move on at an unusually slow pace.

The last drop of water in the skins was exhausted, and even some of the men accustomed to desert travelling declared they could go no further.

The sun was striking down on their heads with intense force. The men’s lips were parched, their eyes bloodshot. The animals moved on with open mouths, lowing piteously in their sufferings. The trader began to fear that the whole party would knock up. In that case, his only hope of saving his own life and that of his son would be to abandon them with his waggon and goods, and to gallop forward, on the chance of finding water.

They had ridden some distance ahead of the caravan, when Martin, who was a short way in front of his father, shouted out, “Water! water!” pointing as he spoke to a beautiful lake in the distance, its waters, curled by the breeze, shining with intense lustre in the bright sun. On the further shore trees were seen reflected clearly on the surface, while among them appeared a number of elephants cooling themselves by throwing water over their bodies.

“We need no longer fear losing our animals, for they will have water enough now to drink their fill,” observed Martin as his father overtook him.

Mr Vincent did not answer, but anxiously gazed at the sheet of water. “I know of no lake hereabouts, and it is too important an object not to be known to all who have ever travelled across the desert; yet my eyes cannot be deceived,” he remarked.

“Shall I ride back and tell the people?” asked Martin.

“Wait till we have ascertained how far off the water is,” said his father; “you may only disappoint them.”

“Surely it cannot be very far off, or we should not see those elephants so clearly,” remarked Martin.

They now put their horses into a trot, the poor animals were too much fatigued to gallop.

Just then the seeming elephants began to move, and suddenly, instead of elephants, a herd of zebras crossed their path, scampering over the ground. The next instant the lake had disappeared, and they found themselves on the borders of an immense expanse of salt, covering the ground as far as the eye could reach to the north and west. On looking behind them, however, they saw both their cattle and men moving rapidly towards the spot, as if they too had been deceived. Bitter was their disappointment when they discovered their mistake. Two of the poor animals dropped and died, now another, and now a fourth; still “Forward! forward!” was the cry. Masiko asserted that water would be at length reached, though it might be some hours’ journey ahead. Thus encouraged, even those who had hitherto been most inclined to despair exerted themselves.

“If this is to endure much longer, I fear that I shall be unable to stand it,” observed Martin to Kibo, who was riding by his side. “Should I die, you will promise me, Kibo, to remain with my father, and to do your best to serve him, and try and get him back safely to Mr Warden’s. Perhaps if I die he will be more ready to listen to him than he was during his last visit, and to think that is a great consolation to me. Oh, how willingly would I give up my life to save his, and much more, to enable him to learn the glorious truths which have brought joy to my heart!”

The sun was rapidly sinking in the west. They had left the salt expanse some way behind; still the country was as dry and inhospitable as ever. Masiko, at Mr Vincent’s order, had pushed on ahead of the caravan. Suddenly he was seen to wave his spear, and to point with it to a clump of trees, then to rush forward. Mr Vincent, with Martin and Kibo, followed him eagerly.

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