''W/LLOUGNBy ,6«a<>««a ^ --~uO^\^''^ ^>**»»6se*'^ /.RY LlBi UMiV . 'VV OF SAN DiEGO NaTiVe Ii FE on ¥ie RORPER By . . . Illustrated from W. C. WILLOUGHBY Original ^ ^ ^ Photographs ^ ^^ London: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO., Ltd NATIVE LIFE ON THE TRANSVAAL BORDER Introductor y T Ko. I. HE educative influence of art has been apparent for many generations. And now our eyes are being opened to the instructive power of the simj)Ier productions of pencil and camera. Time was when the lantern, for in- stance, was regarded as a mere toy for the amusement of children ; while to-day no lecture-room or schoolroom is com- plete without it. And the railway book- stalls, crowded with illustrated magazines and papers, are proof enough that pictures are no longer the mere perquisites of youth. No doubt the change is due, in part, to the new methods of picture- making ; but it is also a frank recogni- tion of the fact that the eye is often a better channel of instruction than the ear. The words of the traveller, though he sjieak with veracity and precision, are apt to recall scenes familiar to the hearer, rather ; or else to conjure up a ON THE CROCODILE RIVER. No. 2. ON THE CROCUDILE KU ER. dreamlike and impossible combination of them. An un seen artist paints a picture upon the mind as we listen ; and when, one fine day, we pitch our tents on the self- same plains, we laugh as we compare the imagery with the reality. And similarlv, though to a less e.xtent, these little photos of mine are likely to mislead the eye. They are without colour ; and, like enough, the eye will read in the colour that it is wont to associate with these forms. But to read the colour of the Wye into photos of the Crocodile, or that of an English landscape into the view from the Mission House at Palapye, is to misinterpret the pictures. When colour-photo- graphy becomes practicable, there will be no dearth of books which succeed where this one partially fails — in acquainting those who stay at home with the more distant parts of the empire. As things are, it may not be amiss to remind the reader that JUXCTIOX OF THE CROCODILE AND NGOTWANE RIVERS. No. 3. the verdure and fertility of England is not found in Bcch- uanaland. The reddish, sandy soil retains but little mois- ture ; and the heat of the African sun j)lays so constantly upon it that the landscape has a seared look for the greater part of the year. Were it not, indeed, for the marvellous depth of our African skies, nearly all these pictures might be rendered in little more than a series of browns and yellows. And perhaps there is another remark that ought to be made at the outset. It would be a mistake to suppose that these are "Pictures of South Africa." They are [lictures of a fraction of South Africa — the Bechuanaland Protectorate ; and not, indeed, of the whole Protectorate, but chielly of the part that Khama governs. For South Africa is large ; and remarks that are true enou;^h of one part, or one tribe, may be quite untrue if another. This book speaks of the Bechuana : it has no word to say of Kaffirs, Fingoes, Zulus, .Swazis, of the Basuto, though the Basuto are in a sense Bechuana. ^LST Ul' TilE TERMITtS, UR ■■ Will 1 l.-A.\ is. .No. 4- made of or even The Scenery KLINS Ul- .\ll.s:>IU.\ HOUSE, SIIOSHOXG. 'nr^HE scenery of Bechuanaland is monotonous. The railway, ap[)roaching from the south, hrst traverses what was once the Crown Colony of Bechuanaland. Hour after hour the train crawls over an extensive tableland, clad with long, coarse grass for the greater part of the year, and bare, to the eye of an Englishman, for the remaining months. Beyond Mafeking it passes into the Protectorate, where the brushwood becomes more plentiful as one pro- ceeds. And as the line approaches Khama's country, it begins to force its way through an almost unbroken woodland of scant and scraggy growth. At first, the traveller, tired of bare down, is cheered at the sight of anything that may be called a tree, even though it be but a prickly acacia ; but long before he reaches Khama's nortln-rn border, he feels the monotony of the scrub-wood. He remarks, also, the absence of water. If it b(.> in the dry season, even the rivers are dry, though the bridges indicate the size of the freshets that flow under them in the rainy months. In the old days ol waggon- travelling one had to follow the waters, which meant that one saw the best bits of country. And there are spots on the river banks, especially the Crocodile, which are very grateful to the eye, while some of the little vhys, or pools, have their own peculiar charm lor the jaded traveller. In the rainy season I have often heard Englishmen inquir- ing why so much beautiful kJ/-^ SITE Ol' THE DESERTED CAPITAL, SHOSHOXG. No 6. No. 7. till some one so partial to discovers the pretty country is allowed to remain unoccupied, while thousands of our poor are cooped up in city slums. The fact is, that our poor need water all the year round, and this unoccupied land is itself parched for half the time. There are here and there spots that would well repay the labourer for his toil ; but these are generally occupied by natives, whose ancestors have used them for many generations. And the rest of the country will never be of much value an economical method of bringing artesian water to the surface. Now the railway is not spots. It takes you through the country in a fiirly direct line, and gives you a clearer SUNSET ox THE CWAPONG HILLS. idea of what the aver- age square mile is really worth. In Khama's country, as in the rest of the Protecto- rate, there are a considerable number of kopjes, or conical hills, isolated and boulder- strewn, and looking for all the world as if they were surviving peaks of great mountains whose valleys have been long filled up. The picturesqueness of these kopjes is often en- riched by the presence of weird candelabra euphorbias and several varieties of aloes, which grow readily among the rocks. ' '^ 4>. .^ MOTLII.\ TREE. No. 8. There are also some ranges of hills, the principal of which are the Cvvening, -Shoshong, and Cwapong ranges. The Cwapong hills are, perhaps, the most important. They are sometimes referred to as mountains, but that is lO misleadincr. My aneroid has occasionally indicated an altitude of 4,500 ft., and there may be points 200 feet higher than that ; but the plains round the ran,L;e are never so low as 3,000 feet. It is better to call them hills. Some idea of the hill scenery may be had fr(jm the photographs numbered 5, 6, 41, 35, 7, 17, and 61, the first three numbers showing Shoshong, the fourth Cwening, and the remainder Cwapong hills. The kloofs, or gorges, which have water in them (like 61), are generally worth exploring. Occasionally the mouth of a kloof opens out like that at Shoshong (6), which, in the old days, accommodated a considerable portion of the town. There is one valley in the Cwapong hills, which extends for many miles and has several villages in it. But as a rule the kloofs are narrow, and the village, where there is one, is quite clear of the mouth. The hills are quartzite, and contain no minerals of any value. Iron is fairly plentiful, and has been worked by the No. 9. BAOBAB TRKE. 1 1 r A' natives in time past, and manganese is found here and there in the ravines. The hills are well wooded, though there is but little timber. Aloes of different kinds abound everywhere; and in tlie season, their orange-red flower- spikes, peeping out from among the boulders, add pretty points of colour to the scene. Arboriferous aloes (7) are common, growing sometimes to a height of nearly twenty feet. I' or a week or two their many-branched flower-spikes are very gorgeous ; and, what with their yellow-green crowns and the variety of browns in their dead fronds — orowths of former years that still cling to the stem — one has but to wait for the deeper shadows of sunset, and there is a pretty picture. Candelabra euphorbias, looking very spiteful, and weird enough to grace the garden of a master of the black art, are everywhere much in evidence. And when one descends to the kloofs and the plains, there are trees that individ- ually merit attention. In the kloofs the wild fig-tree flourishes, its abundant broad-leaved foliage giving grateful shade to the traveller, while its great clusters of figs, growing directly out of the trunk, provide food for the troo[)s of monkeys and baboons. High up in the hardwood trees orchids occasionally display themselves ; and ferns of many kinds fill up the shady nooks among the boulders at their feet. On the south-east side of the ^~ ''i«<- LMI.UIAIMM. 1 lUEXDS UNDER THE liAOUAL! TREE. Xo. 10. 12 Cwapongs, and also in the neighbourhood of the Cwening hills, there are baobabs and niotlha trees. The motlha (8) is, perhaps, the most beautiful tree we have. Motlha is, of course, the native name : it is evidently akin to the olive. Its wide-spreading Ijranches and dense evergreen foliage would easily shade a hundred men, whilst its myriads of olive-like berries are such an attraction to the birds that every tree seems alive with twittering. The baobab (9 and 10) is an outlandish vegetable— a huge mallow. In the distance {see 17) it might be mistaken for a fine old beech. But upon closer acquaintance there is nothing under the sun that one could mistake it for. h is the hijipopotamus of the vegetable world. It looks a little more natural when it is in foliage, especially when its large ivory-white petals, with their yell(jw, feathery stamens, are hanging from the branches by lengths of vegetable jiack-thread; and last year's fruit, like small cocoa-nuts arrayed in threadbare, faded, green velvet, still cling to their uncouth parent. But even then one has a feeling that a great tree like that ought to do something better in the way of foliage, and when the leaves are gone, and the bloated trunk and gouty limbs culminate in a perplexity of overcTown twigs, it becomes grotesque. It reminds one of a bad case of elephantiasis. Dr. Livingstone found specimens on the Botetle River which were from 70 to 76 feet round. I have seen such trees in what is now German East Africa, but never anything so large in Khama's country. The nest of the white ants, or Termites (4), is common enough, especially in the low-lying lands ; but these interesting little [)ests do not thrive in sandy soil, and their hills, or nests, are not nearly so large as they are farther north. The best remark I can make about their habits is ; read chapter vi. in Prof. Urummond's Ti'Opical Africa. II The People 'nr^HE four ruling tribes of the Protectorate are Bech- uana — the Bangwaketse (Bathoen's people), the Bakwena (Sebele's people), the Bakgatla (Linchwe's people), and the Bamangvvato (Khama's peo[)le). They are inde- pendent of one another. It is a mistake to imagine that Khama is the superior of the other Chiefs. He is better known, whether it be from his greater age or his sterling character, but there is no political superiority whatever. Cleavage has long been the order of the da)' among the Bech- uana. The Bang-waketse and the Bamanywato hived off from the Bakwena before we knew them ; and probably there was a time more remote when the ancestors of the Bakgatla and the Bakwena were one community. They all speak the one tongue, and inherit the same customs ; and, since the strong arm of the Imperial power prevents an appeal to the spear, and the minority no longer fear the majority, the process of segregation goes on more merrily thcUi ever. Living under the protection of each of these four tribes, smaller tribes are to be found, who are also of Bechuana origin ; No. II. THE CHIEF KIIAArA. H and in Khama's country there are villages of Makalaka, whose fathers fled from northern homesteads to escape the doom of those who bent their necks to the Matabele yoke. Some of the finest natives that I know live in these Makalaka villages. Bushmen, too, are to be found living- in temporary booths in the wilderness, hunting the game and digging the roots for a while, and then migrating to some new field. They are tributary to the Chief in whose territory they dwell : and they send him furs and render him service in token of their allegiance. Khama, Sebele, and Bathoi'fi \isited England in 1S95 ; and two books were then published, dealing with them and their countries. Instead of crowding these pages with remarks about the Chiefs, it seems wiser to refer the reader to Lloyd's Three Great African Chiefs and Hc-pburn's Tzcenty ]'ears in Khanias Country. I do not happen to possess a photograph of my friend Bathoen, and I am sorry for it. I tried hard to get Linchwe's upon one occasion, but he has superstitious fears of the camera which no arguments of mine could overcome. Pictures 14, 15, and 16 are included from a desire to show a few types of Bechuana faces ; but they are all people of some importance. Sekgome is Khama's only son. In th(' natural order of things he would succeed to the chieftainship, but the Imperial authorities have already warned him that his succession will depend upon his present political behaviour. Bessie and Milly are, respectively, Khama's eldest and youngest daughter. Milly is still a schoolgirl. Bessie has been married for many years, and Racosa is her husband. He is a clever fellow, but his pragmatical temper must be controlled by loftier principles if he is to gain the respect of Europeans. Morwa is the husband of another of Khama's daughters. Mphoeii and t^Wm No 12 TIIK CIIIKK SliKELE. 15 !« No. 13. MILLV, ONE OF KHAMAS DAUGHTERS. SEKGOJIE, KHAMA'S ONLY SOX. No. 1 4. Rraditladi are half-brothers to Khama. They rebelled against the Chief in 1895, and have since lived beyond his borders. Kebailele is a brother to Khama ; and Gorewaii is the eldest son of Khamane, another brother. I should i6 ke to include ;i photograph of Khaniane ; but he has an idea that in the process of being photographed virtue would go out of him ; and Khaniane, poor fellow, cannot aftord to lose much of that. Montsioa (16) was chief of the Barolong who live at Mafeklng, which is on the borders of the Protectorate. He was a remarkable man — shrewd, forceful, well acquainted with the sinuosity of native thought, a rain-maker of great reputation, and an ultra- conservative in all matters of native custom and belief He died about three years ao-o, not long after this lihotograph was taken, at the age of eighty-seven ; and the service he rendered his own tribe was, perhaps, never so thoroughly appre- ciated as now that his young scapegrace of a son sits in the Koof/a. p %. r. No. 15. HEADS OF THE CLAN. THE CHIEF MONTSIOA. No. 16. II Homes of the People \ GLANCE at picture No. 17 will give the reader a general idea ot the plan of a Bechuana \-illage. And even Khama's town — perhaps the largest native town in South Africa — is nothing more than a collec- tion of villages. If one walks throuLjh the town, the scene is, of course, very different. But there is no- thing that can be correctly described as a street. The native equivalent for a street scene is seen in 18 ; only it ought to be said that the disreputable hut in the foreoround of this ],iKl>.>-l,\ 1; \ir\\ (il A CWAl'ONG VILI.Ai,!. ^ \l Xo. 17. B i8 No. iS. wel Friends, ventilatr picture is unusually small and poor, apart from its broken - down appearance. Khama's sanctum (19) is rather better than the average ; but it gives a more correct idea of what the average hut is like. Each hut is built by the people who inhabit it. And when in the course of a few years the hut becomes too populous for the nightly comfort of the thick-skinned natives, they leave it in possession of the Philis- tines, and build a new one. Some of the better poles may be used again, but most of it is mere firewood. looking at the photographs, have suggested that a hut must be very stuffy. But a native hut is usually d. The roof is suijported on a circle of upright poles planted in the ground, and the walls are built STREET SCENE IN THE NATIVE TOWN, PALAPVE. IQ No. 19. CHIEF KHAMA'S "SANCTUM SANCTORUM." inside the circle, and do not touch the roof anywhere : there is, thus, a clear space for ventilation all round between the walls and th(- roof. True, the thatch holds the heat long after the sun has set, and the temperature beneath is often unpleasant in the evening. Notwithstanding the num- ber of European houses that are dotted here and there over the Protectorate, the natives have done but little to improve their style of building. As a rule, the walls are now built of sun-dried brick instead of wattle and daub, and a window and door are often inserted. But there the improvement ends. Sebele and Bathoen (20) employed Boers from the Transvaal to build their houses, and it is hard to say what style of architecture has been adopted. One or two of the smaller native gentry, also, have houses CHIEF B.\THOEN'S HOMESTEAD. No. 20. 20 I.MI'KUVED .\ATI\E IiWEl, LINGS (SKKGO.MKS, I'ALArVi: that are distinctly in advance of what thi.'ir fathers knew. S(;kgi)ine's (21) is not pre- tentious, IjLit it is an im- provement ; and at Kanye there is a still better speci- men (22) belonging to Tsime, one of Bathoen's relatives. If the native has a fire in his hut — which he does occasionall y — the smoke is left to find its way nut as best it may, but Tsime has provided his home with a chimnev. Perhaps the most characteristic features of a native dwelling are the verandah and the courtyard. The verandah is obtained by flattening one side of the wall, causing the eaves to project a little more on that side, and raising a low platform of beaten earth underneath it. Here the seat of honour is placed for the visitor ; and here, in Christian households, the father of a family sits at eventide to conduct family worship (^^52). The courtyard is usually a tiny space in front of the hut, enclosed with a rustic fence of intertwined branches, or of large reeds from the marshes. Two capital specimens of these reed fences are very much in evidence in No. 21. The floor of the little courtyard, like the platform of the verandah, is made of beaten earth, and smeared 21 carefully with the clay and cow-duni;" mixture that is so dear to the heart of a native housewife. On one side of the gateway there is a curious little circular arrangement — a sliyhtly hollow space in the groLind, marked off with a raised rim of clay, and furnished with hearthstones. Here the cooking for the family is done, and the women folk are often to be seen presiding over clay pots of native design and workmanshij), or gipsy crocks that were bought at the store. The hearthstones are mere ordinary stones from the countryside, and the visitor would perhajjs scarcely notice them at all. And yet woe to the unfortunate man whose wife goes home to her friends and takes her hearthstone with her. No word that she could speak would be half so eloquent of her attitude towards him and her intentions for the future. One wonders what influence iIkj new hut-tax will have upon the building ot native houses. As it is, the hut is a poor affair. But everybody who is anybody, has a number of tlvin, and dilferent huts are often allotted to different members of the same family. It is a moot point whether the hut-tax will induce these people to build houses with more than one room, or whether it will mean fewer huts and more over- crowding. In a native town there is scarcely any attempt at sanitation, and it is only the pure, dry air and the hot African sun that keep it at all healthy. Were a similar state of things per- mitted anywhere in England, it would not continue six months without a terrible epidemic. And yet it cannot be said that such diseases as typhoid are at all common in ournati\e communities. IMrROVF.D NATIVE DWKI.I.lXr.S (TSIMirS, K.\XVi:). >^ hS'i' BM^^— ji H»^v.'~-' fc '"^ssai QK'^^ 1 ! -• 1 "■^'''' . - -V.*^.".' No. 11 [V Native Government No. 23. COURT HOUSE, PALAPYE. ^ I "* 11 E Imperial Govern- ment is paramount in the Protectorate, and British Magistrates are resident at Gaborone's and Palapye (23). The law of Cape Colony pre- vails in the territory, in so far as it can be applied, to- gether with such laws as may be proclaimed from time to time by Her Majesty's High Commissioner. The Magistrates have jurisdiction over all white men, and, in- deed, all strangers of any colour; and as Assistant Com- missioners, they handle any political or other business that mav arise between the -o High Commissioner and the Chiefs. But th(' administration of justice within tlv trilje is vested in its Chief, except that the Magistrate deals with all cases of murder, and all cases in which a wliite man is implicated. Khama, for instance, may often be found in the Kgot/a, or Place of Tribal Assembly (24), judging the cjuarrels of his people. The line between the judicial and the political is not very clearly drawn in native society, and trouljle sometimes results from the confusion. But distinctly political gatherings of the tribe arc convened at the w^ill of the Chief, who is in this matter amenable to pressure. The assembly is generally held in the Koo//a at ".Sun-up"; all the adult males of the tribe are entitled to be present, and there is much speaking, some of which is occasionally to the point. If the question is important, the debate may continue till the sun is high in the heavens, and then perhaps be adjourned till the follow- ing day. The Chief rarely, if ever, presides at these meetings, but they continue till he closures the debate. These popular assemblies, if they serve no better purpose, acquaint the Chief with the drift of public opinion, and act as safety-valves for native political feeling. iaiaiiMa»ii«f:iOPi^ THE KGOTLA, OR PLACE OF TKID.\L ASSEMBLY, I'ALAPVE. No. 24. V Startinor Life H will surely explain itself, notwithstanding UMAN nature is essenti.ilK' the same all the world o\-er, and No. the difference of local colour. OLiite an accidental meeting, no doubt, as the youth comes h(jme from his ' ■ ■ ' herding! And yet the leaves on that branch have to suffer, because somebody's nervous- ness runs into her fingers. The little affair has api^arentl)- not gone far; but " everything comes to the one who can wait for it," and one of these days, " for better, for worse," that simple calico gown will no doubt be ex- changed for the glor\' of bridal attire (26). The old Bechuana marriage customs were peculiar. Marriage was not arranged by those whom it most concerned, but by their more experienced parents ; and the wishes of the girl, especially, were often ignored. What the young man was, mattered but littli', providing his father had oxen and willingness to i^ay up. I spi.ik oi the first marririge ; for after that the young man was tree to make his own choice — which he seldom filled to do. Polygamy was the rule ; and dix'orce was common. Ikit for years past there No. 25. '"GIX A LUDV .MKKT A l;i)UV.' 25 has been a change. Occasionally a youngster will introcUice one to his mother and his "father's other wife," but the younger people in Khania's town look ii[)un jjolygamy as bad form ; and it is likely that the inlluence of the Chief has had much to do with this change of view. ¥ov three or four years it has been possible for natives of the Protectorate to marry according to Ijritish law, and though they naturally take to new arrangements with reluctance and suspicion, there is a tendency among the more intelligent of the younger generation to avail themselves of the privilege. They insist, however, that such a marriage involves the right to choose their own partners. One hesitates to prophesy, unless one knows, but the transference of divorce from the parochial jurisdiction of the Kgotia to the I^ritish court, with its dignity and inlle.xibility — and that is what it means — will surelv do something to elevate marriage, and thus prove a ste|) in what Prof Drummond calls " the evolution of a mother." I cannot pretend to admire the costumes that are worn at our native weddings ; but then I do not admire the ordinary every-day garments. I can stand the native of the far interior, in his birthday suit and eighteen inches of some other material, and I admire the natives of Zanzibar in their long, white, Arabic kaiizu ; but when the Bechuana arrav themselves in an odd lot of misfittino- English clothes, thev hide the grace and dignity of carriage that is sometimes theirs by nature ; and it is really absurd to see the close-cropped woolly heads of our native women under English hats, especially when they ha\-e .\ NATIXE BRIDE. \o. 26. 26 insisted on substituting rials for that of the The problem of how is not so difficult for the country as it is for young first thing is a house, and must be built. It is the poles, bring them home, the hut ; and now that for the walls, he will pro- them. But the woman thatching (27) ; and when will make a mixture of plaster the walls and the No. 27. THATCHING. their own choice of mate- milliner. to get a home and keep it young people in Khama's folk in England. The as it cannot be hired it man's business to cut the and fix the framework of sun dried bricks are used bably make them and lay will cut grass and do the the roof is complete she clay and cow-dung, and lioor with it, taking care to leave a smooth and, it may be, decorated surface. But how much of this work the young people will do with their own hands depends upon their social ]3osition. There is not much room in a hut for fm-niture ; and, after all, it must be conceded that the presence of furniture accounts for half the daily tasks of a woman's life. A few cooking-pots, a blanket or two, a few odds and ends in the way of knives and plates, and possibly a bedstead, and they will be quite ha]jpy. Not that the bedstead is essential ; a skin-mat laid on the floor is all that most people have. But ours is a luxurious generation ! VI Women's Work 'TT^HE Bechuana are farmers. It is their custom to live in large communities, and in the immediate neighbourhood of the Chief; and yet they manage to combine farming with town life. Their division of farm-labour is unique • agriculture is women's work, cattle-raising is the employment of men. Of the latter we shall speak presentlv ; at the moment we are concerned with the former. All the arable land in the neighbour- hood of a native town is marked off as gardens. Khama's town is not well situ- ated in this respect, and few gardens are near home. Some ot them are twenty miles away. But these gardens are very different in size from our English allot- ments. They vary, but they are seldom small. There is no idea of freehold or of rent. The Chief allots a garden (sometimes more than one) to every family, and as far as possible neighbour- ing families have neighbouring gardens. If a family can cultivate more land than it already has, the Chief increases their " MEALIES." No. 2S. 28 N'). 29. KAFFIR-CORN. liolcling, and if good land falls oLit 1)1 cultivation, it is allotted to some one who can use it. The principal crops are Kaffir- corn (29) and maize, or "mealies" (28), to use the South African term ; but sweet-reed, melons, pumpkins, and occasionally ground-nuts, beans, cucum- hers, and tobacco, are also grown. Tfjbacco, however, requires irrigati(jn, and that is possible only at rare in- tervals antl in very minute areas. In former times the women did almost all the work that was done upon the land, using a short-handled, broad-bladed Kaffir h(je ; but of late years the plough has come into use, and there are few men who do not possess one and know how to use It. Not that they plough straight furrows — a straight line is foreign to the native mind ; but ins[ianning their oxen they plough the ground 29 to their own satisfaction, and sow the seed. And so the plough rescued the women from the hardest of their toil. Three years ago, however, the rinderpest came into Khama's country and killed about ninety-five per cent, of the cattle, and as the people relied upon the ox for all their haulage, the ploughs have since lain idle, and the women have returned to their hoeing. But there is this difference : the men work with the hoe alongside their wives. As soon as the first rain falls and softens the soil, the people fiock out of the towns and begin ploughing and hoeing. Very few oi them find it possible to return home at night, for, as 1 said, most of the gardens are a good way off, and the custom is to take the whole family to the gardens for the ploughing season. For this reason, many of the gardens are provided with huts, uhich, th(.)ugh poor affairs, serve as shelters from the rain, and the native is content with scant accommodation. Khama's town looks very desolate at this season of the year. There is, perhaps, not one house in ten that shows signs of habitation ; and yet trade is n(Jt dull at the stores, for the people are constantly coming and gomg, and they never spend their money so freely as when work goes merril)' on in the gardens. As the earlier crops begm to KVEMIDE. mature, one Ccinnot go far on any side of the town without meeting folk who are returning home. Women with babies strapped to their backs, grain rolled up in their lilankets and tied round their waists, and baskets of food-stuffs on their heads, all wending their way homeward and asking the news as they pass. Very seldom, indeed, does one see a woman returning empty-handed from the gardens. If nothing else, they bring bundles of firewood to lighten the labour of some other day. In visiting outlying villages at this season of the year, where the gardens are usually close at hand, it is pleasant to watch the tired country folk wending their way peacefully homewards as t?ie shadows of even lengthen (30). But when the harvest is fully ripe there is more bustle than ever, for all the grain must be brought to the town, whatever the distance of the garden. And then it is, per- haps, that the results of rinderpest are most painfully felt. When the cattle were living, the ox-waggon did the work ; and night and day, along all the roads into the town, the crack of the great ox-whips and the clamour of the drivers told the tale of No. 31. USING THE 1L.\IL. 3i harvest-home. But now the waggons are few ; and instead, one sees hundreds of tired people struggHng along under heavy burdens of grain. Many people do their threshing in the gardens now, so that the grain may the more easily be carried. But the bulk of the threshing used to be done in the town, and almost every hut is still provided with a threshing- floor (31), where the women use the flail. The flail is a mere cudgel ; and the group of women who sit round the heap of corn, hammering out the grain from its husk, and coverinof themselves with dust, make their strokes keep time to the threshing ditty that they sing. The threshing-floor is made, as all floors have been made in Africa from time immemorial, of beaten earth smeared with cow-dung. After the threshing comes the storing of the grain, and here there is room for ingenuity. Weevil are a terrible curse in South Africa, and people are at their wits' end to keep grain from the ravages of these pests. But the Bechuana manage it in a very simple way. They build a large circular clay receptacle, supported on legs, as our corn-ricks are, that it may not be damaged by rain or attacked by mice. It is built just where it is to stand, for it is too brittle to be moved to another site. After making the floor of the vessel, they build its sides up a few inches, letting the clay bake in the sun before more is added to the height. When it reaches a height of five feet or so, it is closed with a dome-shaped top. But an aperture is left near the top. When the whole thing has become thoroughly BIX 1 1 L ANA ( ■ RANARIES. No. 32. baked in the sun the grain is stored in it, the aperture hermetically sealed with clay, and as a shelter from the rain a roof of rough poles and thatch is built over it, like a huge umbrella (32). Grain will keep for years in these receptacles it the seal is not broken. It is commonly su[.)posed that South African n,itl\-es are great flesh-eaters. Nothing can be farther from the truth, as far as the Bechuana are concerned. They like flesh. I should not care to imperil my reputation by stating just how much some of them woulil manage to eat at a sitting, if you paid for it; and yet the majority of them rarely touch meat unless an animal happens to die 'I heir staple food is porridge, which is maile of Kaffir-corn ; and the pre[)aration of this porridge is a part ot the woman's daily task. The grain is first pounded in a wooden mortar i;^;^-,), till it becomes meal. Then the bran is sifted out with a simpli: winnowing-fan, like that used by the woman who sits near the mortar in Xo. t,^,, and it is made into a stift" porridge. Kaffir-corn porridge is very nutritious, but it requin^s a good digestion. As for table arrangements, a glance at the happy group squatting round the porridge-pot in No. 10 will reveal the common practice. But many people serve out individual messes in wooden bowls, and some actually have plates and even spoons ! The work of the cook is, however, greatly lightened by the fact that two meals a day is the correct thing in Bechuana homes, and one will often suffice. But whatever the number of meals, the women and cirls must fetch water before thev can do much cooking; lot \OI\i, AM> Ml ll.\L. L'lKX. ^ / o and frequently the water is a distance away. The water pots are made of a clay that burns ahnost black. The women mould the pots by hand, without the aid of a potter's wheel, and No. 34 shows the common shapes and sizes. But no picture will give an adequate idea of the weight of these pots when full of water. After taking the pic- ture, I faikxl to lift some of the pots to the level of my own head, and yet these girls carried them nearly two miles from the spring to their homes, balancing them beautifully with scarcely a touch of the finger. The average Bechuana woman can hardly be said to have a graceful figure ; but it cannot be denied that she has an erect and graceful carriage, for which she is largely indebted to the waterpots that she carried in her youth. If Bechuana women had to carry water for all the household duties that are familiar to an English housekeeper, c KKTClIINi; WATER they woLild have a hfe of drudgery indeed ; but thc'y manage to take some of their household duties to the water instead. The family wash i;^^}, for instance, is done at the spring — when it is done at all. But the ISechuana are not Pharisees in the matter of washing ; and even when they take their washing to the spring, it gets less attention than the gossip. Nor can it be said that either the washing or the gossip is peculiarly the work of women. All Bechuana delight in hearing and retailing any scrap of local or other news. The women will stand with heavy waterpots upon their heads to gossip witli the mtjn who are idling between the village and the water (36) ; and the men enjoy it as much as the women. But then. they have little excitement in life ; and they may at least plead in self-defence that they do not retail the small talk of the neighbourhood for the sake of mere financial gain. . „ -■ To conclude a chapter on " Women's Work " with(_)ut some reference to dressmaking and its kindred arts would be, perhaps, a strange proceeding. But, truth tn tell, the Bechuana women have not been wont to devote much time No. 35. WASIIIXG CLOTHES. 35 to such interesting employment. In the old days the making of women's garments devolved largely upon the men ; for the garments were made of the skins of goats, sheep, antelopes, and iur-bear- ing animals ; and the men were clever furriers. Little girls wear curious string aprons — tiny imita- tions of the string curtains that we import from Japan, but of vegetable fibre instead of beads. And these are made by the women. In recent years the women have shown a growing prefer- ence for cotton garments — generally prints ; and it is no uncommon sight to see a woman busy with her needle, and even with her sewinsf machine, while every English woman in the place is beset with importunate requests for aid and guid- ance in the "cuttino--out " of dresses. I am afraid very few of our natives have mastered the art of " fitting," as it is understood by European dressmakers ; but the girls are taught sewing in the Mission Schools, and are improving even in that respect. The tight, unsha[)ely bodice and sleeve that prevailed a kw years ago, are gradually giving way to more becoming and healthfiil fashions. And upon occasion one meets a woman of position arrayed in garments of better make and more costly material. But I never yet met one whose clothes suggested even the dawning of a sense of fitness. GOSSIP. VI ; Men's Work *EW of the Bechuana men have mucli enthusiasm for work. The notion of barbarism is that men are made to hunt and fight, and that drudgery is the lot of women ; and it is a far cry from barbarism to civilisation — much fiu'ther than it is from civilisation to barbarism. Ko. 37. iiKunixG Tin; r.OATS. The appetite for work requires more cultivation than the appetite for clothes, or even for books. Ikit the men are imjiroving — distinctly improv- inof ; thouoh it must be confessed that too many of them are reluctant to do much be- tween meals. The days for fighting are now practically over in the Protectorate. But the military organisation of the tribes still continues ; and in military matters the Chief is supreme. The regiments are graduated according to age, and every male belongs to a regiment. Indeed, the common way of asking a man's age is to inquire the name of his regiment. If Khama wishes a regiment to assemble, some trumpet- tongued individual ascends the tree-stump in 38. INSI'ANNING. the foreground of the A'oo//a picture (24) and shnuls out the Cfjnimand. That tree is quite a mile from my house, but, in tlie early morning, thanks to the still, dry air, I often hear every word of the proclamation. There is no sign of military life excejJt when a regiment is assembled ; and even then one sees nothing but a noisy crowd in the usual miscellaneous native attire. No regiment is ever assembled unless it be for service — generally for the doing of some more or less jjublic work. And to watch a regiment at work is really interesting ! I have seen them fetching water for building purposes, each one trudging laboriously home from the [)0ol with as much as he thought he could carry in an old jam tin, or a condensed milk tin ! What does it matter.'' They are not paid tor it, and there is seldom a set time by which the work must be done. 1 his labour is almost their only form of ta.xation ; and, I suppose, the regiments do not average ten days' work a year. As for hunting, there is much less to hunt than there used to be ; but it is still the delight of a native's lite. They make very beautiful karosses, too, trom the skins of the fur- bearins: animals. But I have already stated that cattle-raising is the work of the men. Just as each family has its garden ground, so TREKKING. No. 39. each family h is its cattle-post. The caltk-posts are scattered all over the country. But the boys begin life herding the goats {o7)- Whatever the father's station in the tribe, there is nothing n/Jhz dig-, in sending his boy to herd the • goats ; and when the youth is promoted to the herding of cattle, he gets ideas of his own importance that are not always pleasant to his neighbours. This early training stands them in good stead when they take uji waggon travelling. In comparison with the Cape boys they are not good drivers, but they soon become capital leaders — for in o.x-waggon travelling it is necessary to have a leader as well as a dri\er. Xow a good driver is invaluable, and perhaps that is why good drivers are comparatively rare. No. 4a OUTSP.WXED. 39 Reins are not used in driving oxen. Each of the i6 or i8 oxen in the span has its own name, and if it be well trained, will answer readily, though it may need an occasional touch of the whip. But a good driver cares more for the moral effect of the whij) than for its actual use. And he will do his steering with the voice. But it is the leader's duty to lead the front pair of oxen with a thong that is tied round their horns, whenever there is any difficult bit of steering to do ; and he has also to herd the cattle when they are outspanned for grazing. My space is too limited lor inanv details of waggon-life ; and besides, every traveller has his own idea of what is best. But roughly this is the routine : At " sun- up," or before, the oxen are inspanned, or put under the yokes {2>^), and the first trek (journey) is made. Now there are no roads in the Protectorate. What we call our roads are little more than the tracks of preceding wag- gons, with rocks and tree- TIED UP FOR THE MGirr. No. 41. 40 stumps very much in evidence. A good driver will avoid these obstacles, but with the average specimen it is no uncommon thing for a wheel to strike a rock with a bump, climb laboriously and complainingly up the one side, and drop down the other as it it meant to makr u[i lost time. There are no springs to an o.\-waggon, but on such occasions there is usually a little sjiring in the man inside. After trckkins^ or going (39) for three or four hours, the oxen are outspanned, or unyoked, ami turned into the grass on either side of the road. Then the driver mends his whip — and it is astonishing how much time some drivers spend in this employment. The leader looks after the oxen. The travellers cook their food o\-('r an 0|)en fire (40). And so the day is spent. After the heat of the day has passed, the oxen are brought in and again put under the yokes, and there is another trek — perhaps two short treks ; when they are out- spanned for the night (41). If the country is open and the oxen can be depended upon, they are sometimes allowed to graze through the night; but more frequently they are tied to the great steel trek-chain that runs through from the waggon- pole to the farthest yoke, where they lie in the grass and rest till morning. It is very pleasant upon such N„. 42. noMCEV.WAGGOx. occasions to sit by the camp fire for 41 awhile, enjoying the quiet and freslmcss of the veld, or smoking and chatting with the natives, or listening as they spin their yarns about " Ole Brer Rabbit," and help one to a clearer understanding of their customs and speech. Ox-wao;aon travelling is on the whole enjoyable, if one does not get too much of it. But when the rinderpest killed the oxen, and donkeys had to be used, it was another matter. Not to speak of thcir slowness and weakness, there is an amount of original " cussedness " about a donkey that is simply ap|)alling. Try to take your s|)an through watc-r, for instance (42), and you will get a new ex[)erience. And then a donkey will graze but little when the sun is warm. Even if it be hungry it will prefer the idleness and dreaminess of its noonday s/cs/a to ;my grass that the veld can produce ; for the donkey, you must know, is more of a Bohemian than a gourmand. Antl so it you do not let your span graze at night, they soon become too weak to do much work ; but it you do leave ihem loose at night, it takes most of the next day to collect them to2:ether ao-ain. And vet anv man with a sense ot humour will forgive a span of donkeys almost anything for the joy of seeing their elegant attitudes when they are caught in a tropical shower (43). The very pose of the animal is so eloquent of patient endurance, one might almost say, scornful defiance, of trouble. L\ Till-; K.\IN'. \o. 43. No. 44. NATlMi riILl;(II, Mdl.Kli iL(jI,L:. moutsa, as Englishmen will persist in spelling it), and an older and plainer building at Mochudi. Ramocwa is a sta- tion of the Lutheran Mission, which works principally in the Transvaal. Mochudi is a sta- tion of the Dutch Reformed Church of South Africa. E.x- cellent work is being done at both places ; and I regret my inability to include photographs \1II Native Churches T7ISITORS to the Pro- ~ tectorate are usually sur- prised at the beautiful native churches in the central towns. In addition to those here shown, there is a fine new- church at Ramocwa (or Ra- NATIVE CHURCH, KAXVE. No. 45- 43 of the churches. Time was when the Dutch Church of South Africa looked askance at all attempts to Christianise the native ; but now, after living alonyside of the work for many years, they have a Missionary Committee of their own, which is supported by their leading ministers and laymen. This practical testi- monial from whilom opponents must be of peculiar interest to the friends of Foreign Missions. The three churches repre- sented in these pictures are connected with the London Missionary Society. The church at Molepolole {44) is the oldest of the three. 1 )r. Livingstone founded the Bakwena Mission, and la- boured there until duty com- pelled him to foot the sterner path that led into the regions beyond. Livingstone did not live at Molepolole. In his day the Dakwena lived first at Chonwane, which is between Gopani's sfad and Ramocwa ; and then at Kolobeng, which is between Gaborone's and Molepolole. On one OLD MISSION HOUSIi, KANVE. No. 46. occasion, when Livingstone was absent, the Boers of the Transvaal made a raid upon the Bakwena town of Kolo- beng, destroyed it, enslaved scores of the Bakwena boys and girls, and looted Living- stone's home. If there were any moral and intellectual damages attached to this raid, the raiders have probably paid NATI\K CHURCH, PALAl'VE. th(.- bill. As for Livingstone, it was this rude breaking u[) ot his home that set him finally tree tor the work of exploring the Dark Continent — a work which he had long WcUited to ije at, and which has made Africa so distinctly a part of the white man's burden. The Bakwena had to reljLiild their town as best the\" could ; and they buiit it at Alolepolole. The station at Kanye comes next in order of seni- ority, but the church there (45) is the newest of the three. N.\TIVE CHURCH, rAI-APVE (Interior). 45 MISSION HOUSE, PALAI'VE. Xo. 49. As far as external architecture is concerned, the pictures speak for themselves ; but it ought to be said that the church at Kanye is far ahead of the others in the beauty and convenience of its internal arrangements. It is somewhat larger than the church at Palapye, but it sacrifices a little accommodation for the sake of com- fort and beauty ; and it was built at little more than half the cost, which, after makinaf allowance for the cheaper transport, testifies to the business ability of the missionary in charge (the Rev. J. Good). The old mission house at Kanye (a new one has been built since my last visit), shaded by its beautiful trees, almost defies the camera, and the view here presented (46), though it does not show the front of the house, is the only possible picture. The interior of the native church at Palapye (47 and 48) is very unsightly. The roof is not ceiled, the walls are still rough from the hands of the plasterer, and it is not proxided with seats. Such individual natives as are able and willing to leave a chair for their own convenience are permitted to do so ; the others sit upon the lloor. It was built at an unfortunate time, when the people had not finished their new town, and the missionary (Rev. J. D. Hepburn) was on the point of leaving. When it was begun, the chief portion of the native town was on the i)lateau close by : but before it was finished the people had moved down to the lower jilateau, where the ground is better adapted to their method of building ; and so, unfortunately, the church is a mile from the town. There is usually a good congregation, however ; and when the people are not in the gardens it is often packed with a thousand worshippers. This church cost nearly ^4,000, not counting the cost of the tower, which has been added since. 46 Strangers often criticise the London Missionary Society for spending so much money on native churches ; but the fact is, that the money was all sub- scribed iiy the na- tives themselves, each tribe raising the money within their own borders, without even beg- ging from other communities who may be in sym- pathy with their scheme ; and this in addition to the con- tinued support (;f V a r i o u s n a t i \' e VIEW FROM THE MISSION HOUSE, PALAPYE. No. 50. teachers, and occasional help in other matters connected with the work of the mission. At Palapye, for instance, the native Christians surprised their missionary one morning with a present of over ^350, to be added to the vote from home for the building of a new mission house (49). Christianity is a poor affair if it does nothing but dabble in bricks and mortar. But when natives, who are stingy by nature, and who not many years ago were sunk in ignorance and barbarism, are willing to sacrifice their property for the sake of erect- ing places of worship, it may surely be taken for granted that they have been inlluenced by the Sermon on the Mount. A just a[3pre- ciation of the change that Christianity has wrought among the Bechuana would take far more space than is here available. But it is great — greater than is sometimes recognised by those who have not seen the degradation of a Bantu tribe whilst yet untouched by civilisation or Christianity. To come from home and compare the Bechuana, who are mere babes in Christian thought, feeling-, and tradition, with the English, who are heirs to centuries of Christian influence and culture, is, of course, as unsatisfactory in its result as it is unfair in its method. But let one who has lived among the untouched tribes of the far interior, as I did in 1882-3, come south to Bechuanaland ; let VIEW FROM THE MISSION HOUSE, PALAPYE. No. 51. 48 Iiim mark the of the people ■,u •:r-,t barrenness of the country, and how constantly recurring drought and famine have affected the ]:)hysique ; and then let him compare the general tone of tribal life with that from which he has come. He will surely agree that ~ ~l Christianity, in the few years that it has had in the Protectorate, has powerfully influenced the life of the people, especi- ally in such matters as stealing, cattle-lifting, per- sonal cruelty, slavery and kidnapping, witchcraft, the exposure of children and the neglect of the aged, the treatment of strangers, the position of women, and even in that most backward matter of all, industry. To judge the character of individuals is not so easy. A'tr; No. 52. COTT.VK'S SATURD.W MGIIT— SECW.AN,\ VERSION. IX Native Education TT /"HEN the missionaries came into Bechuanaland they found no written language ; and, naturally, their first work was to learn the language and commit it to writing-. Now in language, as in music, it requires a trained ear to hear correctly ; and as know- ledge lias increased, mistakes have been rectified and ortho- graphy improved. It is now possible to take a raw youth, who has never seen letters, and in two months teach him to read his own tongue so that his neighbours shall understand him ; and wherever there is a native evangelist, reading, writ- ing and a little simple arith- metic are taught. Thousands of natives read their own tongue intelligibly, and write a legible letter. The elementary school at KISIXC GKXLUAl li iX. No. 53. D 50 Palapye (54) was built hy Khama, at a cost of about ;^6oo, and is in charge of an Eng- lish lady appointed by the London Missionary Society. This Society has jjlaced a similar teacher at Mole- polole, and intends not only to place one at each of their stations, but to organise some- where in Bechu- analand a central school for train i nor native teachers, and for the better education of the sons of chiefs and headmen No. 54. N.\TI\E ELEME\T.\RV SCHOOL, PAL.\['Vli. And it is surelv desirable that thev who will have the ei'eatest 51 inllucnce in th<; native affairs of the next generation, should be educated for the work they will have to do. No generation of natives is ever without its men of gc-nius ; and genius has ways of making itself felt, even though it be comjjelled to grow up in barbarism. The British nation has had, ere now, to face some black-skinned genius who has desolated English hearts and homes, and to shoot him down at heavy expense to the nation. A tithe of what we spend in native wars, judiciously invested in educators and civilisers, would enable the native to understand his rulers, and fit him for doing useful work in the empire. No. 55. A COUPLE OF IIOUSE-BOVS. Alter all, from the taxpayer's point ot view, as well as from the humani- tarian standpoint, it is better to have a Khama than a Dingaan. But as yet the Government of the Protectorate has given absolutely no assistance in native education, and all that has been done, has been done by the unaided enterprise of the various missionary societies. A GENERAL STORE, PALAPVE. No. 56. X European Life in Khama's Town X„. 57. A GENERAL STORE IN THE WAIN STREET, rALAI'VE. PALAPYE, as Khama's town is called, is distinctly a native town. But there are few native towns in South Africa that do not provide a home and a living for Europeans, and in Pala- [)ye we have quite a little British community. I have already re- ferred to the presence of a British Mag-istrate, and that means, of course, a magistrate's clerk, Euro- pean orderlies and jailer, and the inevitable jail. The jail is not a palatial 53 edifice : one mif^ht almost speak of it as a kind of pocket edition ; and the [irisoners have as much fresh air and freedom as is compatible with detention. It is said that the jailer of a certain Transvaal jail once gave the prisoners notice that those who were not back by nine in the evening would be locked out. Our jail is not run on those lines. The prisoners spend most of the day in useful work, generally in the open air, and are not e.xposed to any unnecessary humiliation ; but they know they are jjrisoners, and are not likely to come back for the fun of the thing. The Magistrate has more power than we are wont to associate with such an office ; but he exercises it with dignity, self-restraint, justice, and, where possible, kindly consideration. Both in court and jail common- sense rules rather than mere formalities and technicalities. But most of the European residents are connected with one or other of the half-dozen stores that deal chiefly in native commodities. These stores are unpretentious build- '"gs (56, 57), without shop- front or architectural adorn- ment, but stocked with a miscellaneous assortment of merchandise. Native trade has its own |:)eculiarities, and many a first- class salesman from home A MERCHANT'S HOME, PALAPYE. No. ;S. 54 .J^^ would scarcely earn his salt in ont- of our stores. Native trade is not influenced by European iashlons ; and, un- fortunately, it cares more f(jr price than quality. But it has to be carefully studietl, none the less ; and the trader must know how to buy game- horns, ostrich-feathers, ivory, sheep, goats, cattle, maize, pumpkins, curiosities, and a dozen other oddments, as well as how to sell his im- ported wares. And besides, it takes much patience and good temper to do business with native customers. Their idea of business is unlimited chaffer; and the storekeeper who is courageous enough to quote a fair price at the outset and stick to it, will frefjuently have the mortilicalion of seeing the article taken away to some other store, and probably sold at last for a smaller sum to one who will haggle for an hour. And yet, it is only fair to say, some of our traders do honestly '^-i«-e' BUYING GR.A.IN IN !■ AMIM: 1 l.ME. No. 59. 55 No. 60. UOARE'S SMITIIV, PALAl'VE. the value of which the native knew, while imported merchandise was charoed to him at an exorbitant rate. Nowadavs there is not much barter. English coins are current, e.vcept in the lower values, and the native insists on handlin'i- the shillinys ; but he still haQoles for the high figure that he has been taught to expect, and everything is consequently very dear. Our storekeepers open early. Often enough they are doing business strive to teach the native a better mcthoil of trading. Time was when trade was done by barter, and im[)0ssib]e prices were commonly quoted for native produce, EAGLE KLOOF, CWArONG HILLS. No. 61. 56 m No. 62. CHRISTMAS IN Till:; TRUlTCS. at six in the morning, but they shut for an hour at breakfast time and lunch time, and at five in the evening they close for the dav. As for social life, there is more than one would expect to find in a small up-country com- munity. The presence o[ a few ladies and chil- dren tends to brighten and sweeten our social gatherings, as well as to raise the general tone of conversation, and occasionally there is a musical eveninof or a dance. Polo, cricket, tennis, rifle practice, each has its enthusiasts. 57 n-hile riding and shoot- ing provide constant enjoyment and exercise. Gossip is sometimes re- sponsible for a little mischief ; and we are not free from the petty jealousies and rivalries that are incident to a very parochial life ; but there is much mutual helpfulness in case of sickness or trouble, and a constant recognition of the fact that we are all sons of the one fatherland. We have our hio-h days and holidays occa- sionally. Queen's birth- day is usually observed, as it generally is in the AFTERNOON TEA. No. 6^ 58 more distant parts of the empire. At Christ- mas the stores are closed for about a week, and picnics (62, 63) are organised. Eagle Kloof (61) is a favourite place for such picnics ; but as Christmas occurs in the height of our African summer, there are many other spots at which it is possible to spend a few pleasant days. Nor is church life altogether lacking in our little community. For years past we have had Sunday ser- vices in our mother- tongue. At first we were content to hold the service in a merchant's parlour (58) ; then we bought a hut i^* No. 64. FIRST ENGLISH CHURCH, rALAPVE. 59 and furnislied it (64), and as the archi- tecture was such very early English we thought it wise to stick up a notice- board, for the information of wa^cron travellers, who were constantly passing. The hut, however, was unpleasantly warm for an evening service, and two years ago we built ourselves a little church (65), on a piece of land that Khama gave for the purpose. The church is small, but it is laroe enough. The interior is as tasteful as the e.\- terior. The service is partly liturgical, and is conducted gratuitously by the missionary resident on the station. The building is vested in the London Missionary Society ; and its deeds are, therefore, unhampered with creed or church policy ; and it has the distinction vt:i-i ^^i^y^a^^^:, NEW EXGLISIJ CHURCH, TALArVE. No. 65. being the first Elno-lish church i;; the Bechuanaland Protectorate. XI lY'legraphs and Railways 'np^HERE is nothing more significant of the future in all Africa than that tliin line of galvanised wire, which runs right away from Cape Town to Abercorn, on the south shores of Tanganyika. To wander in almost un- trodden forests, fording rivers that have never been bridged, and climbing hills that have never been mapped, and then, suddenly, to come u[)on that thin line that links one straight away with London — there is something so incongruous about it ! But it is a pioneer of civili- sation, and the fifty or sixty telegraph clerks that work the wire between Cape Colony and South Tan- ganyika are doing useful work in the extended empire. There are better tele- graph offices along this line than the one at Palapye (66), but it may be taken as a sample. From an architect's stand- No. 6J. IXEGRAI'II OllICi;, rAI.Al\l.. 6i point the offices are not much, but the wire is exceedingly useful to government, comnv^rce, and even to science. " In June, 1898 " -I quote from the B.S.A. report — "direct communication was estabhshed between Nkata Bay and the Royal Observatory, Cape Town, for the purpose of exchanging longitudinal signals in connection with the work of the Anglo-German boundary commission on Lake Nyassa. The telegraph operator at Nkata was a native who had received his training in the Blantyre telegraph office. The total distance over which direct communication was thus secured was about 2,500 miles," and now the wire is open to Abercorn, on south Tanganyika. The railway is a still more important contribution to the work of civilization. It passes throucrh the Pro- tectorate from Mafeking to Francistown, a distance of 363 miles, and on to liuluvvayo, which is 120 miles farther north. Si.\ years ago it took a month of waggon-travelling to get from the railway terminus at Vrybupy to Khama's town. For two years past one has been able to get into a railway carriage at Palapye station, which is only 13 miles from the town, and to reach Cape Town about three days later, without even a change of carriage. The construction of this railway was pushed on rajsidly, on account of the war in Mata- beleland and the famine and rinderpest in the Protectorate. coxsiKi (. 1 1.\<_, I 111-, (jAri.-n i-cAiKi ) lim: at I'ALatve. No. 67. 62 The rails reached Buluwayo on October 19th, 1S97, and during the preceding twelve months a distance of 335 miles was constructed. And yet the railway is no jerry-built affair. It is built on a three-feet-si.x gauge, the standard gauge for Cape railways, of substantial steel rails, weighing 60 lbs. to the yard, laid on steel sleepers, and well ballasted. True, the princiixil l)ridges were not built when the rails reached Uuluwayo ; the trains simply ran down the river bank, crossed the sandy liMtiom, and climbed u[) the other side as best they could. This switchback arrange- ment provided a little e.xcitement for those of us who happened to be in the train — we always e.xpected that the train vvouki have to be taken up the bank in penny num- bers, but it rarely happened that the car- riages had to be uncoupled. Since then substantial brido-es have been built with steel superstructures ; comfortable cottages provided for the workmen along the line ; and the railway station at Palapye (69), like other stations, has been much improved, pl.itforms being built and more accommoda- tion provided. Indeed, it has now the air of an orderly and old-established concern. No. 68. co\STKUCTi\G THE LiNE-w.vTER DiFi icuLTV. I" ^'""2 building of this line there were 63 few engineering difficulties. Entering the Protec- torate on the south it had to negotiate some difficult country in passing through the Lobatsi hills, and curves are frequent, but there are few cuttings or embankments even there. There is a little earthwork on approaching Mocliudi, too, but there is scarcely any more along the whole line. The great difficulty was that of providing the workers with water. While work was goinof on in the neighbourhood of Palapye station, water had to be brought for lOO miles in tanks fitted into goods trucks (68), and sent along by every train ; and once I waited on the banks of the Mahalapye river for about seven hours before our engine could get water enough to take it on to Mochudi. But all these difficulties have been overcome ; the line is in good working order trom Cape 'I own to Buluwayo ; and soon another 150 miles will be complete. A few years ago a line trom Cape Town to Cairo was thought to be a romantic dream, and yet most of us are now hoping to travel that way home before many years have passed ; and when that line is complete there will be no need to allow the fertile uplands of the interior to remain unfruitful, nor to have our slave-chasers cruising in the Indian (^cean ; and, what to some of us is more important still, there will be less of human pain and misery and more of healthy enjcjyment and progress in the poor, diseased heart of Africa. I'Al.ArVK RAll.WAV h 1 ATIi iX i IM- IM.^l I i:i)j. Nu. 09. 64 No. 70. CAIRO- WARDS. Butler & Tanner. The Selwood Printing Works. Frome. and London D 000 346 834