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One pair of eyes beheld this review on that Friday with something of fiendish satisfaction. These belonged to no less a personage than Queen Ranavalona herself. High up on the balcony of her palace she sat under the shade of a scarlet umbrella.
The year 1861 will ever be a period from which date results momentous in behalf of civil and religious liberty for the Negro. It was the beginning of the end of Negro slavery in the United States and the permanent establishment of religious freedom in Madagascar. Queen Ranavalona had a long reign of thirty-three years, but in that year it became evident she could not reign much longer.
The cannon fired to announce their death was shattered to pieces, and the gunners' clothes burnt, which was considered ominous, many whispering 'Thus will the kingdom of Ranavalona Manjaka be shattered to pieces."
"I will try," returned the Prince, "but the Queen is very angry just now!" When the Prince pleaded for the man's life Ranavalona asked of what he was accused. "Of praying to the Christians' God." "Does he admit the charge?" demanded the Queen sternly. "No I believe not." "Then, let the Tangena decide. It always speaks the truth.
If it had not been for the love that Ranavalona bears her, she would have been tossed from the `rock of hurling' long ago." "Faithful, even unto death," said the guide, with a look and tone in which pathos and triumph were strangely blended.
The dress of Ranavalona, as she sat in her balcony under her scarlet umbrella observing the troops, was gorgeous, but the greater part of it was hidden under the voluminous folds of the scarlet lamba of finest English broad-cloth, with which her person was enveloped.
"Have you forgotten, Mamba, the law of your land that the criminal who looks upon the Queen is from that moment entitled to claim freedom? Ranavalona is to pass along this road in less than half-an-hour." Of course Mark said this in remarkably bad Malagasy, but Mamba understood.
Ranavalona, the blood-stained usurper, our present queen, is filled with such bitter hatred of Christianity that she has for many years persecuted the native Christians who have been taught by white missionaries from your land.
On the evening of that same day, after the garden festivities were over, Queen Ranavalona sat in her palace with a frown on her brow, for, despite her determination and frequent commands, the Christians in the town still persisted in holding secret meetings for worship.
For some time Ranavalona remained silent, leaning her forehead on her hand. Suddenly she looked up with a flushed countenance. "It is true all true," she said. "When I was carried along in procession to-day did I not hear these Christians singing one of their hated hymns? They will not cease till some of them lose their heads.
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