the mixture of races, that hordes of invading savages stamped it out
of existence beneath their blood-stained feet, as, in after ages, they
stamped out the Empire of Monomotapa. In the following romantic sketch
the writer has ventured--no easy task--to suggest incidents such as
might have accompanied this first extinction of the Phoenician Zimbabwe.
The pursuit indeed is one in which he can only hope to fill the place
of a humble pioneer, since it is certain that in times to come the
dead fortress-temples of South Africa will occupy the pens of many
generations of the writers of romance who, as he hopes, may have more
ascertained facts to build upon than are available to-day.





ELISSA



CHAPTER I

THE CARAVAN

The sun, which shone upon a day that was gathered to the past some
three thousand years ago, was setting in full glory over the expanses of
south-eastern Africa--the Libya of the ancients. Its last burning rays
fell upon a cavalcade of weary men, who, together with long strings of
camels, asses and oxen, after much toil had struggled to the crest of
a line of stony hills, where they were halted to recover breath. Before
them lay a plain, clothed with sere yellow grass--for the season was