I, David Crawfurd, nineteen years of age, an assistant-storekeeper in a back-veld dorp, was privileged to see a sight to which no Portuguese adventurer had ever attained.

There, floating on the smoke-wreaths, was the jewel which may once have burned in Sheba's hair.

As the priest held the collar aloft, the assembly rocked with a strange passion.

Foreheads were rubbed in the dust, and then adoring eyes would be raised, while a kind of sobbing shook the worshippers.

In that moment I learned something of the secret of Africa, of Prester John's empire and Tchaka's victories.
'In the name of God,' came the voice, 'I deliver to the heir of John the Snake of John.' Laputa took the necklet and twined it in two loops round his neck till the clasp hung down over his breast.