mplexion he saw what he had received from his lovely mother, and in
the boy's graceful vigorous form he recognised himself, when at his age
he looked up to his father Osman as the paragon of all men upon earth.

Selim's age, when this story begins, was a few months over fifteen; and
it is at the usual evening symposium, which takes place near the even
sloping beach of the little bay in front of Amer's mansion, that we are
first introduced to one of the heroes of our story.

It is near sunset, and a group composed of Amer bin Osman, Khamis bin
Abdullah--a wealthy African trader just returned from the interior of
Africa, with an immense number of ivory tusks and slaves--Sheikh
Mohammed, a native of Zanzibar, a neighbour and kinsman of Amer; Sheikh
Thani, son of Mussoud, an experienced old trader in Africa; Sheikh
Mussoud, son of Abdullah, a portly, fine-looking Arab of Muscat; Sheikhs
Hamdan and Amran, also natives of Zanzibar, though pure-blooded Arabs--
were seated on fine Persian carpets placed on the beach, near enough to
the pretty little wavelets which were rolled by the evening zephyrs up
the snowy sand to hear distinctly their music, but still far enough from
them to avoid any dampness.

Close to this group of elderly and noble-looking Arabs was another
consisting of young people who were the sons or near relatives of each
of the Arabs above-mentioned. There were Suleiman and Soud, nephews of
Amer bin Osman, gaudily-dressed youths; there was Isa, a tall
dark-coloured boy, son of Sheikh Thani; there were Abdullah and Mussoud,
two boys of fourteen and twelve years respectively, sons of Sheikh
Mohammed, whose complexions were as purely white as black-eyed
descendants of Ishmael can well be; and lastly, there was the beloved
son of Amer, son of Osman--Selim, whose appearance at once challenged
attention from his frank, ingenuous, honest face, his clear complexion,
his beautiful eyes, and the promise which his well-formed graceful
figure gave of a perfect manhood in the future.

Selim was dressed in a short jacket of fine crimson cloth braided with
gold, a snowy white muslin disdasheh, or shirt, reaching below the
knees, bound around the waist by a rich Muscat sohari or check. On his
head he wore a gold-tasselled red fez, folded around by a costly turban,
which enhanced the appearance of the handsome face beneath it.

While all eyes are directed west at the dark-blue loom of the African
continent away many miles