among the ruins of our dwelling near the desert; and I thought the Arabs had carried you off for the sake of the jewels."

"Sheik Ibrahim is stern and cruel, but he is honest and truthful," replied Cleon, as he walked by his mother's side, and clung lovingly to her hand. "He and his men took away all that they could carry from our home, and then set fire to the building. They took me with them, though I cried for you, and begged to be left till you returned home; but they said that I might bring them into trouble if I were left to tell what the tribe had done, and they dragged me away. One of the sheik's wives wanted to take my bracelet, but Ibrahim forbade it. He said it was all I had in the world, and I should keep it; for it might be of use to me at some future time-and so it has been." "It has indeed!" said Claudia. "But I ought to have known you without it."

Presently the travellers reached the camp. They desired to be conducted to the sheik. He was seated on a carpet on the floor of his tent, and he rose courteously to receive his visitors. He instantly recognised Alypius, whom he had seen in the boat; and he saluted him and his companions with dignified politeness; but he glanced at Cleon with displeasure, and said,

Why are you here, Selim? Begone!" The sheik spoke angrily, and seemed to forget the presence of the strangers.

Only Claudia understood all that Ibrahim said. She had acquired some knowledge of the language of the Arabs when she resided on the border of the desert.

To the strangers the Arab chief spoke in Egyptian, with which he was quite familiar, and in that language Claudia now addressed him. Holding Cleon by the hand, she claimed him

as her child. The sheik could not deny the claim; and as he had no longer any motive for detaining the boy, the happy mother left the tent with her long-lost son.

Tents were given to the travellers in which they might rest and refresh themselves until the great heat of the day had abated, when Ibrahim promised to furnish them with an escort, and also with beasts of burden to convey their baggage to the village, where they could obtain a boat, and float down the now subsiding river to Alexandria.

The repose of the camp was very grateful to Claudia and Medora after the fatigue of mind and body which they had undergone; and the latter was greatly amused and interested by observing the manners of the wandering tribe, which were altogether new to her.

The hours passed rapidly; and long before Medora's curiosity was gratified, and before Claudia had had time to make acquaintance with Cleon's friends, and to show her gratitude towards all who had treated him with kindness, the escort was ready at the tent-door.

Soon the baggage was packed on the backs of mules and asses; Medora and Claudia were mounted on small active Arab steeds, and the sheik himself placed Cleon on a young horse of pure breed and fine shape, begging him to keep it in remembrance of his life in the desert; and the little cavalcade set forth.

CHAPTER XXVI.

VERY happy party was that which passed through the straggling encampment, and wound round the hills that lay to the south of the plain.

Claudia was fully engaged with her newly-found son. How much she had to tell him-and how much to ask of all that he had done, and seen, and felt, and suffered during the last years of his young life! And, above all, how much had she to hear of his simple, childish faith, and love for his Redeemer; and his trust in him through all his loneliness and all his trials!

Joy-deep and abounding joy-was it for this much-tried Christian mother to listen to the ingenuous replies which Cleon made to her anxious inquiries, and to find that the good seed which she had sown in his heart during the years of early childhood had been watered by the dews of heaven, and breathed on by the Spirit of grace, and had taken deep and abiding root!

Cleon had been his mother's constant companion until he was so cruelly taken away from her; and, young as he was, he had comprehended that she endured loneliness and privation because she loved the Lord Jesus Christ, who had taken his father to live with him in heaven. Often had he promised his mother that nothing should ever induce him to forget or deny his father's

God, or lose the hope of meeting him again in a home above the skies.

For the spiritual growth of her darling child, Claudia had prayed, and hoped, and striven, so long as he was spared to her; and when she lost him, he still continued to be the one chief object of her thoughts and her petitions.

It was for his sake, and, as it were, in memory of him, that she had given so much affection and so much care to the young Icilius. And when she was deprived of him by the cruel death of martyrdom, it was to her bleeding heart as if Cleon had again been torn from her, and slain and mangled in the form of Icilius.

This feeling it was which filled up her bitter cup of woe, and shook her reason; and it was the restoration of her loved and lamented child which now gave to her features an air of repose, and to her form a vigour and elasticity, which neither Alypius nor her sister had seen in her before.

Medora and Alypius too were also fully occupied. It was the first time that they had ever conversed together alone; and, for a time, as the young Roman walked beside the Egyptian maiden's horse, and looked up into her beaming face, he felt considerable embarrassment.

But soon the ease and vivacity of her manner restored his composure; and he talked with her freely of the past and of the future; but carefully avoided any mention of his own feelings, or any expression which could imply that he had undertaken the journey to Phila with any other hope or object than to act as an escort to her sister.

Then he spoke of Claudia's steadfast faith, and of her attain

ments in religious knowledge. He told how her residence with his mother had been blessed to Calanthe; and how much he felt himself indebted to her-not only for the conversion of his beloved mother, but also for the spiritual instruction which he had derived from her conversation and her example during the time that they had been fellow-travellers.

Medora appeared to take a deep interest in all that Alypius told her of himself, and of all the spiritual conflicts which he had gone through since the day that he had first seen her in the Circus at Alexandria; even until the blessed time when it pleased the Lord to open his eyes, and the eyes of his friend Augustine, to the errors of their past lives, and to show them the way of peace and salvation in the gospel of Christ.

Every word was listened to with deep attention by the young inquirer. In much that Alypius related of his own feelings, his own doubts and fears, Medora could fully sympathize; and her speaking eyes and changing colour showed the speaker that he had succeeded in arousing the interest of his hearer.

How animated he became! how really eloquent! And how lovely did the desert scenery appear! how smooth and pleasant the pathless, and often stony way! How rapidly passed the hours of this journey, which, to those whose time and attention were not agreeably occupied, might have proved a very wearisome one! It is an old, old story; but happy hearts make sunshine and beauty for themselves, under the most unfavourable circumstances; and a cheerful spirit has proved a continual feast ever since the days of Solomon.

Very happy and very cheerful were Alypius and Medora; and very grateful were they to the Lord, who had so mercifully