, with
large round eyes that had a lovely melting expression, like the eyes of
Truey herself.

Well, as I have said, Truey was alone. Jan was busy near the bottom of
the tree, working a new rod into his bird-cage, and Totty was out upon
the plain herding "old Graaf"--so Truey and the pet springbok went
strolling along by themselves.

Now Truey had not gone down to the water without an object. She had
one. She had gone to give her pet a drink, and collect some blue lilies
for a bouquet. All this she had done, and still continued to walk along
the shore.

On one side of the lake, and that the farthest from the nwana-tree, a
low spit of land projected into the water. It had once been but a
sand-bar, but grass had grown upon it, until a green turf was formed.
There was not over a square perch of it altogether, but it was not
square in shape. On the contrary, it was of oval form, and much
narrower nearest the land, where it formed a neck, or isthmus, not more
than three feet in width. It was, in short, a miniature peninsula,
which by a very little work with the spade could have been converted
into a miniature island--had that been desired.

Now there is nothing very remarkable about a little peninsula projecting
into a lake. In nearly every lake such a thing may be seen. But about
this one there was something remarkable.

Upon its extreme end grew a tree of singular form and foliage. It was
not a large tree, and its branches drooped downwards until their tips
almost touched the water. The pendulous boughs, and long lanceolate
silvery leaves, rendered it easy to tell what sort of tree it was. It
was the weeping or _Babylonian_ willow--so-called, because it was upon
trees of this species that the captive Jews hung their harps when they
"sat and wept by the streams of Babel." This beautiful tree casts its
waving shadow over the streams of South Africa, as well as those of
Assyria; and often is the eye of the traveller gladdened by the sight of
its silvery leaves, as he beholds them,--sure indications of water--
shining afar over the parched and thirsty desert. If a Christian, he
fails not to remember that highly poetical passage of sacred writing,
that speaks of the willow of Babylon.

Now the one which grew upon the little peninsula had all these points of
interest for little Truey--but it had others as well. Upon its branches
that overhung the water a very singular appearance presented itself.
Upon thes