me, I heard suddenly a loud strife of many tongues bursting forth, not in our encampment, but in a small copse or grove of palm trees, about two hundred yards distant.  At once the thought rushed upon my mind, that the Mezzeni had overtaken us, and were meditating an attack, now that we were so near the place of their main encampment.  This was directly confirmed by the sound of a gun-shot in the palm-grove, which was soon followed up by a second.  I ran up towards the encampment as rapidly as possible; and just as I reached it, another shot rang awfully upon my ear.  I found our party in a state of the greatest consternation, and gathered closely together, gazing wildly towards the grove.  The first thing I learnt, was the harrowing fact, that poor Suleiman had just been murdered by the Mezzeni!  It was an astounding announcement.  To what would this desperate blow lead—­here, in the Desert?  The prospect of further bloodshed was terrible.  It would have been insupportable, but for the influence of that inward calmness which is the privilege of the children of God.  We were braced up for the worst, and stood gazing upon the scene, in full expectation that out of a deep and deadly spirit of revenge, we should be immediately overpowered by the enemy, and held entirely at their mercy—­as any shew of defence against so many as had now come down upon us, would have been utterly futile, and might have led to the destruction of us all.  How wild and desolate this awful theatre of death appeared, while, with the sound of gun-shots still vibrating in our ears, we thought of Suleiman writhing in his death-throes, and anxiously watched the movements of the murderers.  We were motionless—­almost breathless.  Each man among us gazed silently upon his fellow.  Our suspense was not of great duration, but long enough to get the heart secretly lifted up in communion with a God of mercy.  And there was sweet peacefulness in that brief exercise....  My worst fears were groundless.  The hearts of all men are in God’s hands.  Our helplessness must have been a powerful matter of temptation to the blood-stained men, over whom the departed soul of Suleiman was hovering.  But God restrained them....

Having slaughtered their victim, the Mezzeni (of whom above forty were counted), quietly marched back towards Nuweibia, without exchanging even a word with us; leaving behind them the corpse of poor Suleiman—­a sad memorial of their malignant vengeance; while several others of their tribe, who had been lying in ambush beyond the scene of terror, came forth from their hiding-places, and joined their retreating comrades.

My heart almost sickens at the recollection of this dreadful transaction, while referring to the notes made on the spot, and compiling from them the particulars of this sad page.