oking out the native
flower." And she dropped a tear so beautiful the costliest pearl would
seem worthless beside it.

"Ah! I did not come to weep," she continued, "but to show you the past."

So in a voice sweet and sad she sang an old African lullaby and dropped
into the water a lotus leaf. A strange mist formed, and when it had
disappeared she bade the little girl to look into the pool. Creeping up
Annabelle peered into the glassy surface, and beheld a series of vividly
colored pictures.

First she saw dark blacksmiths hammering in the primeval forests and
giving fire and iron to all the world. Then she saw the gold of old
Ghana and the bronzes of Benin. Then the black Ethiopians poured down
upon Egypt and the lands and cities bowed and flamed. Next she saw a
great city with pyramids and stately temples. It was night, and a
crimson moon was in the sky. Red wine was flowing freely, and beautiful
dusky maidens were dancing in a grove of palms. Old and young were
intoxicated with the joy of living, and a sense of superiority could be
easily traced in their faces and attitude. Presently red flame hissed
everywhere, and the magnificence of remote ages soon crumbled into ash
and dust. Persian soldiers ran to and fro conquering the band of
defenders and severing the woman and children. Then came the Mohammedans
and kingdom on kingdom arose, and with the splendor came ever more
slavery.

The next picture was that of a group of fugitive slaves, forming the
nucleus of three tribes, hurrying back to the wilderness of their
fathers.

In houses built as protection against the heat the blacks dwelt,
communing with the beauty of water and sky and open air. It was just
between twilight and evening and their minstrels were chanting impromptu
hymns to their gods of nature. And as she listened closely, Annabelle
thought she caught traces of the sorrow songs in the weird pathetic
strains of the African music mongers. From the East the warriors of the
tribe came, bringing prisoners, whom they sold to white strangers from
the West.

"It is the beginning," whispered the fairy, as a large Dutch vessel
sailed westward. Twenty boys and girls bound with strong ropes were
given to a miserable existence in the hatchway of the boat. Their
captors were strange creatures, pale and yellow haired, who were
destined to sell them as slaves in a country cold and wild, where the
palm trees and the cocoanut never grew and men spoke a language with