times these faint foot-marks are again covered with sand, and the travelers are obliged to consult the compass, or examine the horizon. A distant sand-hill, a bush, a heap of camel's bones, or some other indications which the practiced eye of the Tuarik* (too ah'rik) alone can understand, are often the

it requires; the only plants to be seen are the Artemisia, thistles, and thorny Mimosas; in some sandy districts there is a complete absence of all kinds of vegetation. The

*The Tuariks are a race of people living in the desert. They are of mixed Berber and negro origin. The Berbers live in the mountainous region of northern Africa.

only animals to be found in the desert are scorpions, lizards, vipers, and ants. During the first few days of a journey across these sandy plains, some few individuals of the fly-tribe accompany the caravan, but they are soon killed by the heat of these dreadful regions.

4. The intense radiation of the enormous white or red surface of the desert dazzles the eyes; in this blinding light every object appears to be clothed with a strange and somber tint. Occasionally the traveler, while sitting upon his camel, is seized with a kind of brain fever, which causes him to see the most fantastical objects in his delirious dreams. Even those who retain the entire possession of their faculties and clearness of their vision, are beset by distant visions of the mirage, — palm-trees, groups of tents, shady mountains, and sparkling cascades seeming to dance before their eyes in a kind of misty vapor. When the wind blows hard, the traveler's body is beaten by grains of sand, which penetrate even through his clothes, and prick like needles.

5. Stagnant pools or wells, dug with great labor in some hollow, from the sides of which oozes out a scanty and brackish moisture, point out, each day, the end of the stage. But often this unwholesome swamp, at which they hoped to be able to recruit their energies, is not to be found, and the people of the caravan must content themselves with the tainted water with which they filled their flasks at the preceding stage.

6. Terrible stories are also told by the side of the watchfires, of caravans being overtaken, when amid the sand-hills, by a sudden storm of wind, and completely buried under the moving masses; they also tell of whole companies losing their way in the deserts of sand or rocks, and dying of delirium after having undergone all the direst tortures of heat and thirst. Happily, such adventures are rare, even if the accounts of them are at all authentic.

7. Caravans, when led by an experienced guide, and pro

tected by treaties and tribute against the attacks of plundering Arabs and Berbers, nearly always arrive at the end of their journey without having undergone any other sufferings than those caused by the intolerable heat, the want of good water, and the coldness of the nights; for the nights which follow the burning days in the Sahara are, in general, very cold. In fact, the air of these countries being entirely destitute of aqueous vapor, the heat collected during the day on the surface of the desert is, owing to the rapid radiation, again lost in space during the night. The sensation of cold produced by this waste of heat is most acute, and especially so to the chilly Arab. Not a year passes without ice forming on the ground, and white frosts are frequent.

8. In all those countries in the Sahara where the water gushes out in springs, or descends in streams from some group of mountains, there is an oasis formed, a little green island, the beauty of which contrasts most strikingly with the barrenness of the surrounding sands. These oases, compared by the ancient geographer Strabo, to the spots dotted on the skin of the leopard, are very numerous, and perhaps comprehend altogether an area equal in extent to one third of the whole Sahara.

9. In the greater part of this region, the oases, far from being scattered about irregularly, are, on the contrary, arranged in long lines in the middle of the desert. The cause of this is either the higher proportion of moisture contained in the air-currents which pass in this direction, or, and perhaps chiefly, to the subterranean water which follows this slope, and here and there rises to the surface. Thanks to this distribution of the oases, like beads on a necklace, the caravans dare to venture into the solitudes of the Sahara, their stages being all marked out beforehand by the patches of verdure which in turn rise on the horizon, and show them which way Reclus. (Adapted.)

to go.

WORD ANALYSIS AND DEFINITIONS.

A'que ous (aqua, water; ous, full of), watery.

Ge og'ra pher (geo, the earth; graph, to write), one who describes the surface of the earth.

Ra di a' tion, the act of emitting light or heat.

So'lar (sol, the sun; ar, pertaining to), pertaining to the sun.

Sub ter ra'ne an (sub, under; terra, the earth), under the earth; underground.

LESSON LVIII.

THE WANDERER'S RETURN.

1. It was a delightful evening, about the end of August. The sun, setting in a pure sky, illuminated the tops of the western hills, and tipped the opposite trees with a gorgeous yellow luster. A traveler, with sun-burnt cheeks and dusty feet, strong and active, having a knapsack at his back, had gained the summit of a steep ascent, and stood gazing on the plain below.

2. This was a wide tract of champaign country, checkered with villages, whose towers and spires peeped above the trees in which they were embosomed. The space between them was chiefly arable land, from which the husbandmen were carrying away the last products of the harvest.

3. A rivulet wound through the plain, its course marked by green willows. On its banks were verdant meadows, covered with lowing herds, moving slowly to the milkmaids, who came tripping along with pails to receive the milky treasure. A thick wood clothed the side of a gentle eminence rising from the water, crowned with the ruins of an ancient castle.

4. The traveler dropped on one knee, and, clasping his hands, exclaimed, "Welcome, welcome, my dear native land! Many a sweet spot have I seen since I left thee, but none so

sweet as thou! Never has thy dear image been out of my memory; and now with what transport do I retrace all thy charms! O, receive me again, never more to quit thee!" So saying, he threw himself on the turf, and, having kissed it, arose and proceeded on his journey.

5. As he descended into the plain he overtook a little group of children, merrily walking along the path, and stopping now and then to gather berries in the hedge. Where are you going, my dears?" said Edward, which was the traveler's “We are going home," they all replied.

name.

6. "And where is your home?" "Why, at Summerton, the town yonder among the trees, just before us. Don't you

see it?" "I see it," answered Edward, a tear standing in his eye. And what is your name and yours and yours?" The little innocents told their names. Edward's heart leaped at the well-known sounds.

7. "And what is your name, my dear?" said he to a bright-looking girl, somewhat older than the rest, who hung back shyly, and held the hand of a ruddy, white-headed boy about five years old. 'It is Rose Walsingham," she replied; "and this is my younger brother, Roger." "Walsingham!" exclaimed the traveler, as he lifted little Roger in his arms, and kissed him with passionate earnestness; while the little boy seemed almost frightened by the stranger's seeming violence.

8. “And can you show me the house where you dwell?" said Edward. "Yes; it is just there, beside the pond, with the great barn near it, and the orchard a short distance beyond." "And will you take me home with you, Rose?" "If you please," answered Rose, with a little hesitation.

9. They walked on. Edward said but little, for his heart was full; but he frequently kissed little Roger, whom he was carrying in his arms. Coming at length to a stile, from which a path led across a little lawn, Rose said, "This is the way to