if withered by the hand of God! Had fire swept the surface, it could
not have left it more naked and desolate. There was no garden, there
were no fields of maize or buckwheat, there was no longer a farm--the
kraal stood in the midst of a desert!

Words cannot depict the emotions of the field-cornet at that moment.
The pen cannot describe his painful feelings.

Such a change in two hours! He could scarce credit his senses--he could
scarce believe in its reality. He knew that the locusts would eat up
his maize, and his wheat, and the vegetables of his garden; but his
fancy had fallen far short of the extreme desolation that had actually
been produced. The whole landscape was metamorphosed--grass was out of
the question--trees, whose delicate foliage had played in the soft
breeze but two short hours before, now stood leafless, scathed by worse
than winter. The very ground seemed altered in shape! He would not
have known it as his own farm. Most certainly had the owner been absent
during the period of the locust-flight, and approached without any
information of what had been passing, he would not have recognised the
place of his own habitation!

With the phlegm peculiar to his race, the field-cornet sat down, and
remained for a long time without speech or movement.

His children gathered near, and looked on--their young hearts painfully
throbbing. They could not fully appreciate the difficult circumstances
in which this occurrence had placed them; nor did their father himself
at first. He thought only of the loss he had sustained, in the
destruction of his fine crops; and this of itself, when we consider his
isolated situation, and the hopelessness of restoring them, was enough
to cause him very great chagrin.

"Gone! all gone!" he exclaimed, in a sorrowing voice. "Oh! Fortune--
Fortune--again art thou cruel!"

"Papa! do not grieve," said a soft voice; "we are all alive yet, we are
here by your side;" and with the words a little white hand was laid upon
his shoulder. It was the hand of the beautiful Truey.

It seemed as if an angel had smiled upon him. He lifted the child in
his arms, and in a paroxysm of fondness pressed her to his heart. That
heart felt relieved.

"Bring me the Book," said he, addressing one of the boys.

The Bible was brought--its massive covers were opened--a verse was
chosen--and the song of praise rose up in the midst of the desert.

The Book was closed; and for some minute