28 
TEAVELS IN CENTEAL AFEICA. 
CXII. Psalms. I tliank God He has restored to us strength ; I 
daily go with Peth. to the river-side for a bloW; and in the after- 
noon we ride out to the desert. 
Our sale is over. I am copying you a list of the lares, that 
you may judge how my good husband had surrounded me with 
comforts. And now, Mona, you must " blow the fifes and beat the 
drums,^ for we are going home. I believe and hope that in 
August at the latest you will find somebody knocking at your 
door:^ may there not one dear face be absent, I pray. Give love 
the fondest to your children : their loving letters fall like dew upon 
my heart. 
^‘^The lilies of the valley dear Constance sent are fragrant as 
herself. Your little almanack is a treasure : it gives me the dates ; 
I always know when it is Sunday, but am never quite sure about 
the week-days. Miss Capellan, like myself, forgets : she too had no 
almanack for last year. The Comtesse de Bisson, whom I think I 
mentioned to you resided a short time at Khartoum, on her way to 
Abyssinia, with her husband and a large suite, has lost her father ; 
he was a fine, hale old man. Several of their party have also died. 
An Englishman, Mr .Joyce, has arrived here; he is a manager of 
the trading company from Egypt : we see him frequently, he has 
been reading to us extracts from his New Yearns letters from 
England, written by his little relatives. I so thank you, IMona, 
for the description of your dear ones dressed for the childrens^ 
balls; every rosette I seem to see, and their flowing hair. You never 
weary giving me those details, but of yourself you say so little.^^ 
Give your Geraldine our tender love. You write to us, ‘^^she ran 
with a penny to a black man who was on the sand-hills,' saying, 
tell your brothers in Africa to be kind to my Auntie Kate and 
Uncle John, and send them home.^ 
