singing and dancing by which the religious orders were bound.  The ascetic of Abba island did not join in these seemingly innocent dissipations.  With the recklessness of the reformer he protested against the demoralisation of the age, and loudly affirmed the doctrine that God alone could forgive sins.  These things were speedily brought to the ears of the renowned Sheikh, and in all the righteous indignation that accompanies detected wrong-doing, he summoned Mohammed Ahmed before him.  The latter obeyed.  He respected his superior.  He was under obligations to him.  His ire had disappeared as soon as it had been expressed.  He submissively entreated forgiveness; but in vain.  Sherif felt that some sort of discipline must be maintained among his flock.  He had connived at disobedience to the divine law.  All the more must he uphold his own authority.  Rising in anger, he drove the presumptuous disciple from his presence with bitter words, and expunged his name from the order of the elect.

Mohammed went home.  He was greatly distressed.  Yet his fortunes were not ruined.  His sanctity was still a valuable and, unless he chose otherwise, an inalienable asset.  The renowned Sheikh had a rival—­nearly as holy and more enterprising than himself.  From him the young priest might expect a warm welcome.  Nevertheless he did not yet abandon his former superior.  Placing a heavy wooden collar on his neck, clad in sackcloth and sprinkled with ashes, he again returned to his spiritual leader, and in this penitential guise implored pardon.  He was ignominiously ejected.  Nor did he venture to revisit the unforgiving Sheikh.  But it happened that in a few weeks Sherif had occasion to journey to the island of Abba.  His former disciple appeared suddenly before him, still clad in sackcloth and defiled by ashes.  Careless of his plain misery, and unmoved by his loyalty, which was the more remarkable since it was disinterested, the implacable Sheikh poured forth a stream of invective.  Among many insults, one went home:  ’Be off, you wretched Dongolawi.’

Although the natives of the Dongola province were despised and disliked in the Southern Soudan, it is not at first apparent why Mohammed should have resented so bitterly the allusion to his birthplace.  But abuse by class is a dangerous though effective practice.  A man will perhaps tolerate an offensive word applied to himself, but will be infuriated if his nation, his rank, or his profession is insulted.

Mohammed Ahmed rose.  All that man could do to make amends he had done.  Now he had been publicly called ‘a wretched Dongolawi.’  Henceforth he would afflict Sherif with his repentance no longer.  Reaching his house, he informed his disciples—­for they had not abandoned him in all his trouble—­that the Sheikh had finally cast him off, and that he would now take his discarded allegiance elsewhere.  The rival, the Sheikh el Koreishi, lived near Mesalamia.  He was jealous of Sherif and envied him his sanctimonious disciples.  He was therefore delighted to receive a letter from Mohammed Ahmed announcing his breach with his former superior and offering his most devoted services.  He returned a cordial invitation, and the priest of Abba island made all preparation for the journey.