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A PRISONER OF THE KHALEEFA

There is one subject I must touch upon, a subject which has made the life of my wife as much of a hell upon earth during my captivity, as that captivity was to me; and a subject which has caused the most poignant grief and pain to my near relatives. I refer to my Abyssinian female servant Hasseena. The mere fact of her accompanying the caravan opened up a quarry for quidnuncs to delve in, and they delved for twelve long years. It is needless to dilate upon the subject here; suffice it to say that if, when my critics have read through my plain narrative, they have conscience enough left to admit to themselves that they have more injured a woman than the helpless, and in this particular connection, ignorant captive, who has returned to life to confront them, and if they try in future to be as charitable to their own flesh and blood as some of the savage fanatics were to me in the Soudan, I shall rest content.

My narrative, and here I wish to say that it is presented as I first dictated it, notwithstanding my being confronted with, as it was put to me, "contradictions" based upon official and semi-official records and reports, may be depended upon as being as correct a record as memory can be expected to give of the events of my twelve years' existence, from All Fools' Day, 1887, when, in spite of all warnings, I rode away from life and civilization to barbarism and slavery.

At the beginning of 1887, Hogal Dufa'allah, a brother of Elias Pasha, a former Governor of Kordofan, came to me at Assouan and suggested my accompanying him to Kordofan, where large quantities of gum