.

"There now only remained a few spahis with their quartermaster,
Pobequin, and some native sharpshooters of the Chambaa tribe. They had
still two camels left. They disappeared one night along with two
Arabs.

"Then, the survivors understood that they were going to eat each other
up, and, as soon as they discovered the flight of the two men with the
two beasts, those who remained separated, and proceeded to march, one
by one, through the soft sand, under the glare of a scorching sun, at
a distance of more than a gunshot from each other.

"So they went on all day, and, when they reached a spring, each of
them came to drink at it in turn as soon as each solitary marcher had
moved forward the number of yards arranged upon. And thus they
continued marching the whole day, raising, everywhere they passed, in
that level burnt-up expanse, those little columns of dust which, at a
distance, indicate those who are trudging through the desert.

"But, one morning, one of the travelers made a sudden turn, and drew
nearer to his neighbor. And they all stopped to look.

"The man toward whom the famished soldier drew near did not fly, but
lay flat on the ground, and took aim at the one who was coming on.
When he believed he was within gunshot, he fired. The other was not
hit, and he continued then to advance, and cocking his gun in turn,
killed his comrade.

"Then from the entire horizon, the others rushed to seek their share.
And he who had killed the fallen man, cutting the corpse into pieces,
distributed it.

"And they once more placed themselves at fixed distances, these
irreconcilable allies, preparing for the next murder which would bring
them together.

"For two days, they lived on this human flesh which they divided
amongst each other. Then, the famine came back, and he who had killed
the first man began killing afresh. And again, like a butcher, he cut
up the corpse, and offered it to his comrades, keeping only his own
portion of it.

"And so this retreat of cannibals continued.

"The last Frenchman, Pobequin, was massacred at the side of a well,
the very night before the supplies arrived.

"Do you understand now what I mean by the Horrible?"

This was the story told us a few nights ago by General de G----.

A NEW YEAR'S GIFT

Jacques de Randal, having dined at home alone, told his valet he might
go, and then he sat down at a table to write his letters.

He thus finished every year by writing and dr