THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 
LIFE IN SOUTH AFRICA 
 
 BY LADY BARKER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 STATION LIFE IN NEW ZEALAND," "STORIES ABOUT," ETC., ETC. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
 1877. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
JJI 
 
 LIFE IN SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 CAPE TOWN, October 16, 1875. 
 
 SAFE, safe at last, after twenty-four 
 days of nothing but sea and sky, of 
 white - crested waves which made no 
 secret of their intention of coming on 
 board whenever they could or of tossing 
 the good ship Edinburgh Castle hither 
 and thither like a child's plaything and 
 of more deceitful sluggish rolling billows, 
 looking tolerably calm to the unseafar- 
 ing eye, but containing a vast amount of 
 heaving power beneath their slow, un- 
 dulating water-hills and valleys. Some- 
 times sky and sea have been steeped in 
 dazzling haze of golden glare, sometimes 
 brightened to blue of a sapphire depth. 
 Again, a sudden change of wind has driv- 
 en up serried clouds from the south and 
 east, and all has been gray and cold and 
 restful to eyes wearied with radiance and 
 glitter of sun and sparkling water. 
 
 Never has there been such exceptional 
 weather, although the weather of my 
 acquaintance invariably is exceptional. 
 No sooner had the outlines of Madeira 
 melted and blended into the soft dark- 
 ness of a summer night than we appear- 
 ed to sail straight into tropic heat and a 
 sluggish vapor, brooding on the water 
 like steam from a giant geyser. This 
 simmering, oily, exhausting temperature 
 carried us close to the line. " What is 
 before us," we asked each other languid- 
 ly, " if it be hotter than this ? How can 
 mortal man, woman, still less child, en- 
 dure existence ?" Vain alarms ! Yet 
 
 another shift of the light wind, another 
 degree passed, and we are all shivering 
 in winter wraps. The line was crossed 
 in greatcoats and shawls, and the only 
 people whose complexion did not resem- 
 ble a purple plum were those lucky ones 
 who had strength of mind and steadiness 
 of body to lurch up and down the deck 
 all day enjoying a strange method of 
 movement which they called walking. 
 
 The exceptional weather pursued us 
 right into the very dock. Table Moun- 
 tain ought to be seen and very often is 
 seen seventy miles away. I am told it 
 looks a fine bold bluff at that distance. 
 Yesterday we had blown off our last 
 pound of steam and were safe under its 
 lee before we could tell there was a moun- 
 tain there at all, still less an almost per- 
 pendicular cliff more than three thou- 
 sand feet high. Robben Island looked 
 like a dun-colored hillock as we shot 
 past it within a short distance, and a 
 more forlorn and discouraging islet I 
 don't think I have ever beheld. When 
 I expressed something of this impression 
 to a cheery fellow-voyager, he could only 
 urge in its defence that there were a great 
 many rabbits on it. If he had thrown 
 the lighthouse into the bargain, I think 
 he would have summed up all its attrac- 
 tive features. Unless Langalibalele is 
 of a singularly unimpressionable nature, 
 he must have found his sojourn on it 
 somewhat monotonous, but he always 
 says he was very comfortable there. 
 3 
 
 WITHDRAWN 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 And now for the land. We are close 
 alongside of a wharf, and still a capital 
 and faithful copy of a Scotch mist wraps 
 houses, trees and sloping uplands in a 
 fibry fantastic veil, and the cold driz- 
 zle seems to curdle the spirits and ener- 
 gies of the few listless Malays and half- 
 caste boys and men who are lounging 
 about. Here come hansom cabs rattling 
 up one after the other, all with black 
 drivers in gay and fantastic head and 
 shoulder gear ; but their hearts seem 
 precisely as the hearts of their London 
 brethren, and they single out new-com- 
 ers at a glance, and shout offers to drive 
 them a hundred yards or so for exorbi- 
 tant sums, or yell laudatory recommen- 
 dations of sundry hotels. You must 
 bear in mind that in a colony every pot- 
 house is a hotel, and generally rejoices 
 in a name much too imposing to fit 
 across its frontage. These hansoms are 
 all painted white with the name of some 
 ship in bright letters on the side, and are 
 a great deal cleaner, roomier and more 
 comfortable than their London "for- 
 bears." The horses are small and shab- 
 by, but rattle along at a good pace ; and 
 soon each cab has its load of happy 
 home-comers and swings rapidly away to 
 make room for fresh arrivals hurrying up 
 for fares. Hospitable suggestions come 
 pouring in, and it is as though it were al- 
 together a new experience when one steps 
 cautiously on the land, half expecting it 
 to dip away playfully from under one's 
 feet. A little boy puts my thoughts into 
 words when he exclaims, " How steady 
 the ground is !" and becomes a still more 
 faithful interpreter of a wave-worn voy- 
 ager's sensations when, a couple of hours 
 later, he demands permission to get out 
 of his delicious little white bed that he 
 may have the pleasure of getting into it 
 again. The evening is cold and raw 
 and the new picture is all blurred and 
 soft and indistinct, and nothing seems 
 plain except the kindly grace of our wel- 
 come and the never-before-sufficiently- 
 appreciatcd delights of space and silence. 
 
 OCTOBER 17. , 
 
 How pleasant is the process familiarly 
 known as "looking about one," particu- 
 
 larly when performed under exception- 
 ally favorable circumstances ! A long 
 and happy day commenced with a stroll 
 through the botanic gardens, parallel 
 with which runs, on one side, a splendid 
 oak avenue just now in all the vivid 
 freshness of its young spring leaves. 
 The gardens are beautifully kept, and 
 are valuable as affording a sort of ex- 
 perimental nursery in which new plants 
 and trees can be brought up on trial and 
 their adaptability to the soil and climate 
 ascertained. For instance, the first thing 
 that caught my eye was the gigantic 
 trunk of an Australian blue-gum tree, 
 which had attained to a girth and height 
 not often seen in its own land. The flora 
 of the Cape Colony is exceptionally va- 
 ried and beautiful, but one peculiarity 
 incidentally alluded to by my charming 
 guide struck me as very noticeable. It 
 is that in this dry climate and porous soil 
 all the efforts of uncultivated nature are 
 devoted to the stems of the vegetation : 
 on their sap-retaining power depends the 
 life of the plant, so blossom and leaf, 
 though exquisitely indicated, are fragile 
 and incomplete compared to the solidity 
 and bulbous appearance of the stalk. 
 Everything is sacrificed to the practical 
 principle of keeping life together, and it 
 is not until these stout-stemmed plants 
 are cultivated and duly sheltered and 
 watered, and can grow, as it were, with 
 confidence, that they are able to do jus- 
 tice to the inherent beauty of penciled 
 petal and veined leaf. Then the stem 
 contracts to ordinary dimensions, and 
 leaf and blossom expand into things 
 which may well be a joy to the botanist's 
 eye. A thousand times during that shady 
 saunter did I envy my companions their 
 scientific acquaintance with the beautiful 
 green things of earth, and that intimate 
 knowledge of a subject which enhances 
 one's appreciation of its charms as much 
 as bringing a lamp into a darkened pic- 
 ture-gallery. There are the treasures of 
 form and color, but from ignorant eyes 
 more than half their charms and won- 
 ders are held back. 
 
 A few steps beyond the garden stand 
 the library and natural history museum. 
 The former is truly a credit to the Colony. 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 Spacious, handsome, rich in literary treas- 
 ures, it would bear comparison with sim- 
 ilar institutions in far older and wealthier 
 places. But I have often noticed in col- 
 onies how much importance is attached 
 to the possession of a good public library, 
 and how fond, as a rule, colonists are of 
 books. In a new settlement other shops 
 may be ill supplied, but there is always 
 a good bookseller's, and all books are to 
 be bought there at pretty nearly the same 
 prices as in England. Here each vol- 
 ume costs precisely the same as it would 
 in London, and it would puzzle ever so 
 greedy a reader to name a book which 
 would not be instantly handed to him. 
 
 The museum is well worth a visit of 
 many more hours than we could afford 
 minutes, and, as might be expected, con- 
 tains numerous specimens of the Bok 
 family, whose tapering horns and slen- 
 der legs are to be seen at every turn of 
 one's head. Models are there also of 
 the largest diamonds, and especially well 
 copied is the famous "Star of South 
 Africa," a magnificent brilliant of purest 
 water, sold here originally for something 
 like twelve thousand pounds, and resold 
 for double that sum three or four years 
 back. In these few hours I perceive, or 
 think I perceive, a certain soreness, if 
 one may use the word, on the part of the 
 Cape Colonists about the unappreciative- 
 ness of the English public toward their 
 produce and possessions. For instance, 
 an enormous quantity of wine is annual- 
 ly exported, which reaches London by a 
 devious route and fetches a high price, 
 as it is fairly entitled to do from its ex- 
 cellence. If that same wine were sent 
 direct to a London merchant and boldly 
 sold as Cape wine, it is said that the 
 profit on it would be a very different 
 affair. The same prejudice exists against 
 Cape diamonds. Of course, as in other 
 things, a large proportion of inferior 
 stones are forced into the market and 
 serve to give the diamonds that bad 
 name which we all know is so fatal to a 
 dog. But it is only necessary to pretend 
 that a really fine Cape diamond has 
 come from Brazil to ensure its fetching a 
 handsome price, and in that way even 
 jewelers themselves have been known 
 
 to buy and give a good round sum, too, 
 for stones they would otherwise have 
 looked upon with suspicion. Already I 
 have seen a straw-colored diamond from 
 "Du Zoit's pan" in the diamond-fields 
 cut in Amsterdam and set in London, 
 which could hold its own for purity, ra- 
 diance and color against any other stone 
 of the same rare tint, without fear or fa- 
 vor ; but of course such gems are not 
 common, and fairly good diamonds cost 
 as much here as in any other part of the 
 world. 
 
 The light morning mists from that 
 dampness of yesterday have rolled grad- 
 ually away as the beautiful sunshine 
 dried the atmosphere, and by mid-day 
 the table-cloth, as the colonists affection- 
 ately call the white, fleece-like vapor 
 which so often rests on their pet moun- 
 tain, has been folded up and laid aside 
 in Cloudland for future use. I don't 
 know what picture other people may 
 have made to their own minds of the 
 shape and size of Table Mountain, but 
 it was quite a surprise and the least little 
 bit in the world of a disappointment to 
 me to find that it cuts the sky (and what 
 a beautiful sky it is !) with a perfectly 
 straight and level line. A gentle, un- 
 dulating foreground broken into ravines, 
 where patches of green veils or fields, 
 clumps of trees and early settlers' houses 
 nestle cosily down, guides the eye half- 
 way up the mountain. There the round- 
 er forms abruptly cease, and great gran- 
 ite cliffs rise, bare and straight, up to the 
 level line stretching ever so far along. 
 " It is so characteristic," and "You grow 
 to be so fond of that mountain," are ob- 
 servations I have heard made in reply to 
 the carping criticisms of travelers, and 
 already I begin to understand the mean- 
 ing of the phrases. But you need to see 
 the mountain from various points of view 
 and under different influences of sun and 
 cloud before you can take in its striking 
 and peculiar charms. 
 
 On each side of the straight line which 
 is emphatically Table Mountain, but act- 
 ually forming part of it, is a bold head- 
 land of the shape one is usually accus- 
 tomed to in mountains. The " Devil's 
 Peak" is uncompromising enough for 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 any one's taste, whilst the " Lion's Head " 
 charms the eye by its bluff form and deep 
 purple fissures. These grand promon- 
 tories are not, however, half so beloved 
 by Cape Colonists as their own Table 
 Mountain, and it is curious and amusing 
 to notice how the influence of this odd 
 straight ridge, ever before their eyes, has 
 unconsciously guided and influenced their 
 architectural tastes. All the roofs of the 
 houses are straight straight as the moun- 
 tain ; a gable is almost unknown, and 
 even the few steeples are dwarfed to an 
 imperceptible departure from the pre- 
 vailing straight line. The very trees 
 which shade the Parade - ground and 
 border the road in places have their tops 
 blown absolutely straight and flat, as 
 though giant shears had trimmed them ; 
 but I must confess, in spite of a natural 
 anxiety to carry out my theory, that the 
 violent " sou'-easters " are the "straight- 
 eners" in their case. 
 
 Cape Town is so straggling that it is 
 difficult to form any idea of its real size, 
 but the low houses are neat and the 
 streets are well kept and look quaint 
 and lively enough to my new eyes this 
 morning. There are plenty of people 
 moving about with a sociable, business- 
 like air ; lots of different shades of black 
 and brown Malays, with pointed hats on 
 the men's heads : the women encircle 
 their dusky, smiling faces with a gay 
 cotton handkerchief and throw another 
 of a still brighter hue over their shoul- 
 ders. When you add to this that they 
 wear a full, flowing, stiffly-starched cot- 
 ton gown of a third bright color, you can 
 perhaps form some idea of how they en- 
 liven the streets. Swarms of children 
 everywhere, romping and laughing and 
 showing their white teeth in broadest of 
 grins. The white children strike me at 
 once as looking marvelously well such 
 chubby cheeks, such sturdy fat legs 
 and all, black or white, with that amaz- 
 ing air of independence peculiar to baby- 
 colonists. Nobody seems to mind them 
 and nothing seems to harm them. Here 
 are half a dozen tiny boys shouting and 
 laughing at one side of the road, and half 
 a dozen baby-girls at the other (they all 
 seem to play separately) : they are all 
 
 driving each other, for "horses" .is the 
 one game here. By the side of a pond 
 sit two toddles of about three years old, 
 in one garment apiece and pointed hats : 
 they are very busy with string and a pin ; 
 but who is taking care of them and why 
 don't they tumble in ? They are as fat 
 as ortolans and grin at us in the most 
 friendly fashion. 
 
 We must remember that this chances 
 to be the very best moment of the whole 
 year in which to see the Cape and the 
 dwellers thereat. The cold weather has 
 left its bright roses on the children's 
 cheeks, and the winter rains exception- 
 ally having this year made every blade 
 of grass and leaf of tree to laugh and 
 sing in freshest green. After the dry, 
 windy summer I am assured there is 
 hardly a leaf and never a blade of grass 
 to be seen in Cape Town, and only a lit- 
 tle straggling verdure under the shelter 
 of the mountain. The great want of 
 this place is water. No river, scarcely a 
 brook, refreshes one's eye for many and 
 many a league inward. The necessary 
 water for the use of the town is brought 
 down by pipes from the numerous springs 
 which trickle out of the granite cliffs of 
 Table Mountain, but there is never a 
 sufficiency to spare for watering roads or 
 grassplots. This scarcity is a double loss 
 to residents and visitors, for one misses it 
 both for use and beauty. 
 
 Everybody who comes here rides or 
 drives round the " Kloof." That may 
 be ; but what I maintain is that very few 
 do it so delightfully as I did this sunny af- 
 ternoon with a companion who knew and 
 loved every turn of the romantic road, 
 who could tell me the name of every 
 bush or flower, of every distant stretch of 
 hills, and helped me to make a map in 
 my head of the stretching landscape and 
 curving bay. Ah ! how delicious it was, 
 the winding, climbing road, at whose 
 every angle a fresh fair landscape fell 
 away from, beneath our feet or a shining 
 stretch of sea, whose transparent green 
 and purple shadows broke in a fringe of 
 feathery spray at the foot of bold, rocky 
 cliffs, or crept up to a smooth expanse 
 of silver sand in a soft curling line of 
 foam ! " Kloof" means simply cleft, and 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 is the pass between the Table Mountain 
 and the Lion's Head. The road first 
 rises, rises, rises, until one seems half- 
 way up the great mountain, and the little 
 straight - roofed white houses, the green 
 velts or fields and the parallel lines of 
 the vineyards have sunk below one's 
 feet far, far away. The mountain gains 
 in grandeur as one approaches it, for the 
 undulating spurs which run from it down 
 to the sea-shore take away from the height 
 looking upward. But when these are left 
 beneath, the perpendicular walls of gran- 
 ite, rising sheer and straight up to the 
 bold sky-line, and the rugged, massive 
 strength of the buttress-like cliffs, begin 
 to gain something of their true value to 
 the stranger's eye. The most beautiful 
 part of the road, however, to my taste, 
 is the descent, when the shining expanse 
 of Camp's Bay lies shimmering in the 
 warm afternoon haze with a thousand 
 lights and shadows from cloud and cliff 
 touching and passing over the crisp wa- 
 ter-surface. By many a steep zigzag we 
 round the Lion's Head, and drop once 
 more on a level road running parallel to 
 the sea-shore, and so home in the balmy 
 and yet bracing twilight. The midday 
 sun is hot and scorching even at this time 
 of year, but it is always cool in the shade, 
 and no sooner do the afternoon shadows 
 grow to any length than the air freshens 
 into sharpness, and by sundown one is 
 glad of a good warm shawl. 
 
 OCTOBER 18. 
 
 Another bright, ideal day, and the 
 morning passed in a delicious flower- 
 filled room looking over old books and 
 records and listening to odd, quaint little 
 scraps from the old Dutch records. But 
 directly after luncheon (and how hungry 
 we all are, and how delicious everything 
 tastes on shore !) the open break with 
 four capital horses comes to the door, 
 and we start for a long, lovely drive. 
 Half a mile or so takes us out on a flat 
 red road with Table Mountain rising 
 straight up before it, but on the left 
 stretches away a most enchanting pano- 
 rama. It is all so soft in coloring and 
 tone, distinct and yet not hard, and ex- 
 quisitely beautiful ! 
 
 The Blue-Berg range of mountains 
 stretch beyond the great bay, which, un- 
 less a "sou'-easter" is tearing over it, 
 lies glowing in tranquil richness. This 
 afternoon it is colored like an Italian 
 lake. Here are lines of chrysoprase, 
 green - fringed, white with little waves, 
 and beyond lie dark, translucent, purple 
 depths, which change with every passing 
 cloud. Beyond these amethystic shoals 
 again stretches the deep blue water, and 
 again beyond, and bluer still, rise the five 
 ranges of "Hottentots' Holland," which 
 encircle and complete the landscape, 
 bringing the eye round again to the 
 nearer cliffs of the Devil's Peak. When 
 the Dutch came here some two hundred 
 years ago, they seized upon this part of 
 the coast and called it Holland, driving 
 the Hottentots beyond the neighboring 
 range and telling them that was to be 
 their Holland a name it keeps to this 
 day. Their consciences must have trou- 
 bled them after this arbitrary division of 
 the soil, for up the highest accessible 
 spurs of their own mountain they took the 
 trouble to build several queer little square 
 houses called " block-houses," from which 
 they could keep a sharp look-out for foes 
 coming over the hills from Hottentots' 
 Holland. The foes never came, how- 
 ever, and the roofs and walls of the 
 block -houses have gradually tumbled 
 in, and the gun-carriages for they man- 
 aged to drag heavy ordnance up the steep 
 hillside have rotted away, whilst the 
 old-fashioned cannon lie, grim and rusty, 
 amid a tangled profusion of wild geran- 
 ium, heath and lilies. I scrambled up 
 to one of the nearest block-houses, and 
 found the date on the dismounted gun to 
 be more than a hundred years old. The 
 view was beautiful and the air fresh and 
 fragrant with scent of flowers. 
 
 But to return to our drive. I could 
 gaze and gaze for ever at this lovely 
 panorama, but am told this is the ugliest 
 part of the road. The road itself is cer- 
 tainly not pretty just here, and is cloudy 
 with a fine red dust, but this view of sea 
 and distant hills is enchanting. Soon 
 we get under the lee of the great moun- 
 tain, and then its sheltering arms show 
 their protective power ; for splendid oak 
 
8 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 avenues begin to border the road all the 
 way, and miniature forests of straight- 
 stemmed pines and shimmering belts of 
 the ghostly silver tree run up all the 
 mountain-clefts. Stem and leaf of the 
 silver tree are all of purest white ; and 
 when one gets a gleam of sunlight on a 
 distant patch of these trees, the effect is 
 quite indescribable, contrasting, as they 
 do, with green of field and vineyard. 
 The vines all about here and towards 
 Constantia, thirteen miles off, are dwarf- 
 plants, and only grow to the height of 
 gooseberry-bushes. It is a particular 
 species, which is found to answer best as 
 requiring less labor to train and cultivate, 
 and is less likely to be blown out of the 
 ground by the violent " sou'-easters " 
 which come sweeping over the mountain. 
 These gales are evidently the greatest 
 annoyance which Cape Colonists have to 
 endure ; and although everybody kindly 
 suggests that I ought to see one, just to 
 understand what it is like, I am profound- 
 ly thankful that I only know it from their 
 description and my own distinct recol- 
 lection of the New Zealand " nor'-west- 
 ers." Those were hot winds, scorching 
 and curling up everything, whereas this 
 is rather a cold breeze, although it blows 
 chiefly in summer. It whirls along clouds 
 of dust from the red clay roads and fields 
 which penetrates and clings to everything 
 in the most extraordinary manner. All 
 along the road the stems and lower 
 branches of the trees are dyed a deep 
 brick-dust color, and I hear moving and 
 pathetic stories of how it ruins clothes, 
 not only utterly spoiling black silk dresses, 
 but staining white petticoats and chil- 
 dren's frocks and pinafores with a bor- 
 der of color exactly like the ruddle with 
 which sheep are branded. Especially is 
 it the terror of sailors, rendering the nav- 
 igation along the coast dangerous and 
 difficult; for it blends land and water 
 into one indistinct whirl of vaporous 
 cloud, confusing and blurring everything 
 until one cannot distinguish shore from 
 sea. 
 
 The vineyards of Constantia origin- 
 ally took their pretty name from the fair 
 daughter of one of the early Dutch gov- 
 ernors, but now it has grown into a generic 
 
 word, and you see "Cloete's Constantia," 
 " Von Reybeck Constantia," written upon 
 great stone gateways leading by long 
 avenues into the various vine-growing 
 plantations. It was to the former of 
 these constantias, which was also the 
 farthest off, that we were bound that 
 pleasant summer afternoon, and from 
 the time we got out of the carriage until 
 the moment we re-entered it all too 
 soon, but it is a long drive back in the 
 short cold twilight I felt as though I 
 had stepped through a magic portal into 
 the scene of one of Washington Irving's 
 stories. It was all so simple and home- 
 ly, so quaint and so inexpressibly pic- 
 turesque. The house had stood there 
 for a couple of hundred years, and looks 
 as though it might last for ever, with its 
 air of cool, leisurely repose and comfort 
 and strength. 
 
 In the flagged hall stands a huge stal- 
 actite some ten feet high, brought a hun- 
 dred years ago from caves far away in 
 the distant ranges. It is shaped some- 
 thing like a Malay's hat, only the peak 
 tapers to a point about eight feet high. 
 The drawing-room though it seems a 
 profanation to call that venerable stately 
 room by so flippant and modern a name 
 is large, ceiled with great beams of 
 cedar, and lighted by lofty windows, 
 which must contain many scores of small 
 panes of glass. There were treasures of 
 rarest old china and delfware, and curi- 
 ous old carved stands for fragile dishes. 
 A wealth of swinging-baskets of flowers 
 and ferns and bright girl - faces lighted 
 up the solemn, shady old room, in which 
 we must not linger, for there is much to 
 see outside. First to the cellar, as it is 
 called, though it is far from being under 
 ground, and is, in fact, a spacious stone 
 building with an elaborately-carved ped- 
 iment. Here are rows and rows of giant 
 casks, stretching on either hand into av- 
 enues in the black distance, but these are 
 mere children in the nursery, compared 
 to those we are going to see. First we 
 must pause in a middle room full of 
 quaintest odds and ends crossbows, 
 long whips of hippopotamus hide, strange 
 rusty old swords and firearms to look 
 at a map of South Africa drawn some- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 where about 1640. It hangs on the wall 
 and is hardly to be touched, for the paint 
 and varnish crack and peel off at a 
 breath. It is a marvel of accurate geo- 
 graphical knowledge, and is far better 
 filled in than the maps of yesterday. 
 All poor Livingstone's great geograph- 
 ical discoveries are marked on it as being 
 perhaps only from description known 
 or guessed at all that long time ago. It 
 was found impossible to photograph it 
 on account of the dark shade which age 
 has laid over the original yellow varnish, 
 but a careful tracing has been made and, 
 I believe, sent home to the Geographical 
 Society. It is in the long corridor be- 
 yond this that the "stuck-vats" live 
 puncheons which hold easily some thou- 
 sand gallons or so, and are of a solemn 
 rotundity calculated to strike awe into 
 the beholder's heart. Here is white con- 
 stantia, red constantia, young constantia, 
 middle-aged constantia, and constantia 
 so old as to be a liqueur almost beyond 
 price. When it has been kept all these 
 years, the sweetness by which it is dis- 
 tinguished becomes so absorbed and 
 blended as to be hardly perceptible. 
 
 Presently one of the party throws a door 
 suddenly open, and, behold, we are stand- 
 ing right over a wild wooded glen with a 
 streamlet running through it, and black 
 washerwomen beating heaps of white 
 clothes on the strips of shingle. Turtle- 
 doves are cooing, and one might almost 
 fancy one was back again on the wild 
 Scotch west coast, until some one else 
 says calmly, "Look at the ostriches!" 
 Here they come, with a sort of dancing 
 step, twisting their long necks and snake- 
 like heads from side to side in search of 
 a tempting pebble or trifle of hardware. 
 Their wings are slightly raised, and the 
 long fringe of white feathers rustles soft- 
 ly as they trot easily and gracefully past 
 us. They are. young male birds, and in 
 a few months more their plumage, which 
 now resembles that of a turkey-cock, will 
 be jet black, except the wing-feathers. A 
 few drops of rain are falling, so we hur- 
 ry back to where the carriage is standing 
 under some splendid oak trees, swallow 
 a sort of stirrup-cup of delicious hot tea, 
 and so home again as fast as we can go. 
 
 OCTOBER 19. 
 
 It is decided that I must take a drive 
 in a Cape cart ; so directly after break- 
 fast a smart workman-like-looking ve- 
 hicle, drawn by a pair of well-bred iron- 
 gray cobs, dashes up under the portico. 
 There are capital horses here, but they 
 fetch a good price, and such a pair as 
 these would easily find purchasers at 
 one hundred and fifty pounds. The 
 cart itself is very trim and smart, with 
 a framework sort of head, which falls 
 back at pleasure, and it holds four peo- 
 ple easily. It is a capital vehicle, light 
 and strong and uncommonly comfort- 
 able, but I am warned not to imagine 
 that all Cape carts are as easy as this 
 one. Away we go at a fine pace through 
 the delicious sparkling morning sunshine 
 and crisp air, soon turning off the red 
 high-road into a sandy, marshy flat with 
 a sort of brackish back-water standing 
 in pools here and there. We are going 
 to call on Langalibalele, and his son, 
 Malambuli, who are located at Uitvlugt 
 on the Cape downs, about four miles 
 from the town. It is a sort of farm-resi- 
 dence ; and considering that the chief 
 has hitherto lived in a reed hut, he is not 
 badly off, for he has plenty of room out 
 of doors as well as a good house over 
 his head. We bump over some strange 
 and rough bits of sandy road and climb 
 up and down steep banks in a manner 
 seldom done on wheels. There is a wealth 
 of lovely flowers blooming around, but 
 I can't help fixing my eyes on the pole 
 of the cart, which is sometimes sticking 
 straight up in the air, its silver hook 
 shining merrily in the sun, or else it has 
 disappeared altogether, and I can only 
 see the horses' haunches. That is when 
 we are going down hill, and I think it is 
 a more terrible sensation than when we 
 are playfully scrambling up some sandy 
 hillock as a cat might. 
 
 Here is the location at last, thank 
 Heaven ! and there is Langalibalele sit- 
 ting in the verandah stoep (pronounced 
 "stoup") on his haunches on a brick. 
 He looks as comfortable as if he were 
 in an arm-chair, but it must be a dif- 
 ficult thing to do if you think seriously 
 of it. The etiquette seems to be to take 
 
10 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 no notice of him as we pass into the par- 
 lor, where we present our pass and the 
 people in authority satisfy themselves 
 that we are quite in rule. Then the 
 old chief walks quietly in, takes off his 
 soft felt hat and sits himself down in a 
 Windsor arm-chair with grave delibera- 
 tion. He is uncommonly ugly ; but 
 when one remembers that he is nearly 
 seventy years of age, it is astonishing to 
 see how young he looks. Langalibalele 
 is not a true Kafir at all : he is a Fingor, 
 a half-caste tribe contemptuously chris- 
 tened by the Kafirs "dogs." His wool 
 grows in distinct and separate clumps 
 like hassocks of grass all over his head. 
 He is a large and powerful man and 
 looks the picture of sleek contentment, 
 as well he may. Only one of his sons, 
 a good-natured, fine young man, black 
 as ebony, is with him, and the chief's 
 one expressed grievance is that none of 
 his wives will come to him. In vain he 
 sends commands and entreaties to these 
 dusky ladies to come and share his sol- 
 itude. They return for answer that "they 
 are working for somebody else;" for, 
 alas ! the only reason their presence is 
 desired is that they may cultivate some 
 of the large extent of ground placed at 
 the old chief's disposal. Neither he nor 
 his stalwart 'son would dream for a mo- 
 ment of touching spade or hoe ; but if 
 the ladies of the family could only be 
 made to see their duty, an honest penny 
 might easily be turned by oats or rye. I 
 gave him a large packet of sugar-plums, 
 which he seized with childish delight and 
 hid away exactly like the big monkeys 
 at the Zoo. 
 
 By way of a joke, Malambuli pretended 
 to want to take them away, and the chat- 
 tering and laughing which followed was 
 almost deafening. But by and by a gen- 
 tleman of the party presented a big parcel 
 of the best tobacco, and the chuckling old 
 chief made over at once all my sweet- 
 meats "jintly" to his son, and proceeded 
 to hide away his new treasure. He was 
 
 dressed exactly like a dissenting minis- 
 ter, and declared through the interpreter 
 he was perfectly comfortable. The im- 
 pression here seems to be that he is a 
 restless, intriguing and mischief-making 
 old man, who may consider himself as 
 having come out of the hornets' nest he 
 tried to stir up uncommonly well. 
 
 We don't want to bump up and down 
 the sandy plain again, so a lively con- 
 versation goes on in Dutch about the 
 road between one of my gentlemen and 
 somebody who looks like a"stuck-vat" 
 upon short legs. The dialogue is fluent 
 and lively, beginning with " Ja, ja !" and 
 ending with "All right!" but it leads to 
 our hitting off the right track exactly, 
 and coming out at a lovely little cottage- 
 villa under the mountain, where we rest 
 and lunch and then stroll about up the 
 hill spurs, through myrtle hedges and 
 shady oak avenues. Then, before the 
 afternoon shadows grow too long, we 
 drive off to "Groote Schuur," the an- 
 cient granary of the first settlers, which 
 is now turned into a roomy, comfortable 
 country-house, perfect as a summer res- 
 idence, and securely sheltered from the 
 " sou '-casters." We approach it through 
 a double avenue of tall Italian pines, and 
 after a little while go out once more for 
 a ramble up some quaint old brick steps, 
 and so through a beautiful glen alPfringed 
 and feathered with fresh young fronds 
 of maiden-hair ferns, and masses of hy- 
 drangea bushes, which must be beautiful 
 as a poet's dream when they are covered 
 with their great bunches of pale blue 
 blossom. That will not be until Christ- 
 mas-tide, and, alas ! I shall not be here 
 to see, for already my three halcyon 
 days of grace are ended and over, and 
 this very evening we must steam away 
 from a great deal yet unvisited of what 
 is interesting and picturesque, and from 
 friends who three days ago were stran- 
 gers, but who have made eveiy moment 
 since we landed stand out as a bright and 
 pleasant landmark on life's highway. 
 
:F.A.:R,T 
 
 ALCOA BAY, October 23, 1875. 
 
 TWO days ago we steamed out of 
 Table Bay on just such a gray, driz- 
 zling afternoon as that on which we en- 
 tered it. But the weather cleared direct- 
 ly we got out to sea, and since then it 
 has carried us along as though we had 
 been on a pleasant summer cruise. All 
 yesterday we were coasting along the 
 low downs which edge the dangerous 
 sea-board for miles upon miles. From 
 the deck of the Edinburgh Castle the 
 effect is monotonous enough, although 
 just now everything is brightly green ; 
 and, with their long ribbon fringe of 
 white breaker-foam glinting in the spring 
 sunshine, the stretches of undulating hil- 
 locks looked their best. This part of the 
 coast is well lighted, and it was always 
 a matter of felicitation at night when, 
 every eighty miles or so, the guiding 
 rays of a lighthouse shone out in the 
 soft gloom of the starlight night. One 
 of these lonely towers stands more than 
 eight hundred feet above the sea-level, 
 and warns ships off the terrible Agulhas 
 Bank. 
 
 We have dropped our anchor this 
 fresh bright morning a mile or so from 
 the shore on which Port Elizabeth stands. 
 Algoa Bay is not much of a shelter, and 
 it is always a chance whether a sudden 
 south-easter may not come tearing down 
 upon the shipping, necessitating a sud- 
 den tripping of anchors and running out 
 to sea to avoid the fate which is staring 
 us warningly in the face in the shape of 
 the gaunt ribs or rusty cylinders of sun- 
 dry cast-away vessels. To-day the weath- 
 er is on its good behavior ; the south- 
 easter rests on its 
 
 aery nest 
 As still as a brooding dove ; 
 
 and sun and sea are doing their best to 
 show off the queer little straggling town 
 creeping up the low sandy hills that lie 
 before us. I am assured that Port Eliz- 
 abeth is a flourishing mercantile place. 
 
 From the deck of our ship I can't at all 
 perceive that it is flourishing, or doing 
 anything except basking in the pleasant 
 sunshine. But when I go on shore an 
 hour or two later I am shown a store 
 which takes away my breath, and before 
 whose miscellaneous contents the stout- 
 est-hearted female shopper must needs 
 baisser son pavilion. Everything in this 
 vast emporium looked as neat and or- 
 derly as possible, and, though the build- 
 ing was twice as big as the largest 
 co-operative store in London, there was 
 no hurry or confusion. Thimbles and 
 ploughs, eau-de-cologne and mangles, 
 American stoves, cotton dresses of as- 
 tounding patterns to suit the taste of 
 Dutch ladies, harmoniums and flat-irons, 
 all stood peaceably side by side to- 
 gether. But these were all " unconsid- 
 ered trifles " next the more serious busi- 
 ness of the establishment, which was 
 wool wool in every shape and stage 
 and bale. In this department, however, 
 although for the sake of the dear old 
 New Zealand days my heart warms at 
 the sight of the huge packages, I was 
 not supposed to take any interest; so 
 we pass quickly out into the street again, 
 get into a large open carriage driven by 
 a black coachman, and make the best 
 of our way up to a villa on the slope of 
 the sandy hill. Once I am away from 
 the majestic influence of that store the 
 original feeling of Port Elizabeth being 
 rather a dreary place comes back upon 
 me ; but we drive all about to the Park, 
 which may be said to be in its swaddling- 
 clothes as a park, and to the Botanic 
 Gardens, where the culture of foreign 
 and colonial flowers and shrubs is car- 
 ried on under the chronic difficulties of. 
 too much sun and wind and too little 
 water. Everywhere there is building 
 going on very modest building, it is 
 true, with rough-and-ready masonry or 
 timber, and roofs of zinc painted in strips 
 of light colors, but everywhere there are 
 ii 
 
12 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 signs of progress and growth. People 
 look bored, but healthy, and it does not 
 surprise me in the least to hear that 
 though there are a good many inhabit- 
 ants, there is not much society. A pret- 
 ty little luncheon and a pleasant hour's 
 chat in a cool, shady drawing-room, with 
 plenty of new books and music and flow- 
 ers, gave me an agreeable impression to 
 carry back on board the ship ; which, 
 by the way, seemed strangely silent and 
 deserted when we returned, for most of 
 our fellow-passengers had disembarked 
 here on their way to different parts of 
 the interior. 
 
 As I saunter up and down the clean, 
 smart-looking deck of what has been 
 our pleasant floating home during these 
 past four weeks, I suddenly perceive a 
 short, squat pyramid on the shore, 
 standing out oddly enough among the 
 low-roofed houses. If it had only been 
 red instead of gray, it might have pass- 
 ed for the model of the label on Bass's 
 beer -bottles; but, even as it is, I feel 
 convinced that there is a story connected 
 with it : and so it proves, for this ugly, 
 most unsentimental-looking bit of ma- 
 sonry was built long ago by a former 
 governor as a record of the virtues and 
 perfections of his dead wife, whom, 
 among other lavish epithets of praise, 
 he declares to have been " the most per- 
 fect of women." Anyhow, there it stands, 
 on what was once a lonely strip of sand 
 and sea, a memorial if one can only 
 believe the stone story, now nearly a 
 hundred years old of a great love and 
 a great sorrow ; and one can envy the 
 one and pity the other just as much 
 when looking at this queer, unsightly 
 monument as when one stands on the 
 pure marble threshold of the exquisite 
 Taj Mahal at Agra, and reads that it too, 
 in all its grace and beauty, was reared 
 "in memory of an undying love." 
 
 Although the day has been warm and 
 balmy, the evening arr strikes chill and 
 raw, and our last evening on board the 
 dear old ship has to be spent under 
 shelter, for it is too cold to sit on deck. 
 With the first hours of daylight next 
 morning we have to be up and packing, 
 for by ten o'clock we must be on board 
 
 the Florence, a small, yacht-like coast- 
 ing-steamer which can go much closer 
 into the sand-blocked harbors scooped by 
 the action of the rivers all along the coast. 
 It is with a very heavy heart that I, for 
 one, say good-bye to the Edinburgh Cas- 
 tle, where I have passed so many hap- 
 py hours and made some pleasant ac- 
 quaintances. A ship is a very forcing- 
 house of friendship, and no one who has 
 not taken a voyage can realize how rap- 
 idly an acquaintance grows and ripens 
 into a friend under the lonely influences 
 of sea and sky. We have all been so 
 happy together, everything has been so 
 comfortable, everybody so kind, that one 
 would indeed be cold-hearted if, when 
 the last moment of our halcyon voyage 
 arrived, it could bring with it anything 
 short of a regret. 
 
 With the same chivalrous goodness 
 and courtesy which has taken thought 
 for the comfort of our every movement 
 since we left Dartmouth, our captain in- 
 sists on seeing us safely on board the 
 Florence (what a toy -boat she looks af- 
 ter our stately ship !) and satisfying him- 
 self that we can be comfortably settled 
 once more in our doll's house of a new 
 cabin. Then there comes a reluctant 
 "Good-bye" to him and all our kind 
 care-takers of the Edinburgh Castle ; 
 and the last glimpse we catch of her 
 for the Florence darts out of the bay like 
 a swallow in a hurry is her dipping her 
 ensign in courteous farewell to us. 
 
 In less than twenty-four hours we had 
 reached another little port, some hun- 
 dred and fifty miles or so up the coast, 
 called East London. Here the harbor 
 is again only an open roadstead, and 
 hardly any vessel drawing more than 
 three or four feet of water can get in at 
 all near the shore, for between us and it 
 is a bar of shifting sand, washed down, 
 day by day, by the strong current of the 
 river Buffalo. All the cargo has to be 
 transferred to lighters, and a little tug 
 steamer bustles backward and forward 
 with messages of entreaty to those said 
 lighters to come out and take away their 
 loads. W r e had dropped our anchor by 
 daylight, yet at ten o'clock scarcely a 
 boat had made its appearance alongside, 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 and every one was fuming and fretting 
 at the delay and consequent waste of 
 fine weather and daylight. That is to 
 say, it was a fine bright day overhead, 
 with sunshine and sparkle all round, but 
 the heavy roll of the sea never ceased 
 for a moment. From one side to the 
 other, until her ports touched the water, 
 backward and forward, with slow, monot- 
 onous heaving, our little vessel swayed 
 with the swaying rollers until everybody 
 on board felt sick and sorry. " This is 
 comparatively a calm day," I was told: 
 "you can't possible imagine from this 
 what rolling really is." But I can imag- 
 ine quite easily, and do not at all desire 
 a closer acquaintance with this restless 
 Indian Ocean. Breakfast is a moment of 
 penance : little G is absolutely faint- 
 ing from agonies of sea-sickness, though 
 he has borne 'all our South-Atlantic toss- 
 ings with perfect equanimity ; and it is 
 with real joy that I hear the lifeboat is 
 alongside, and that the kind-hearted cap- 
 tain of the Florence (how kind sailors 
 are !) offers to take babies, nurse and me 
 on shore, so as to escape a long day of 
 this agonizing rolling. In happy un- 
 consciousness of what landing at East 
 London, even in a lifeboat, meant when 
 a bar had to be crossed, we were all tum- 
 bled and bundled, more or less uncere- 
 moniously, into the great, roomy boat, 
 and were immediately taken in hand by 
 the busy little tug. For half a mile or 
 more we made good progress in her 
 wake, being in a position to set at naught 
 the threatening water-mountains which 
 came tumbling in furious haste from sea- 
 ward. It was not until we seemed close 
 to the shore and all our troubles over 
 that the tug was obliged to cast us off, 
 owing to the rapidly shoaling water, and 
 we prepared to make the best of our 
 own way in. Bad was that best, indeed, 
 though the peril came and went so quick- 
 ly that it is but a confused impression I 
 retain of what seemed to me a really ter- 
 rible moment. One instant I hear fe- 
 licitations exchanged between our cap- 
 tain who sits protectingly close to me 
 
 and poor, fainting little G , who lies 
 
 like death in my arms and the captain 
 of the lifeboat. The next moment, in 
 
 spite of sudden panic and presence of 
 danger, I could laugh to hear the latter 
 sing out in sharpest tones of terror and 
 dismay, "Ah, you would, would you?" 
 coupled with rapid orders to the stout 
 rowers and shouts to us of "Look out!" 
 and I do look out, to see on one side sand 
 which the retreating wave has sucked 
 dry, and in which the boat seems trying 
 to bury herself as though she were a 
 mole: on the other hand there towers 
 above us a huge green wave, white- 
 crested and curled, which is rushing at 
 us like a devouring monster. I glance, 
 as I think, for the last time, at the pale 
 nurse, on whose lap lies the baby placid- 
 ly sucking his bottle. I see a couple of 
 sailors lay hold of her and the child with 
 one hand each, whilst with the other they 
 cling desperately to the thwarts. A stout 
 seafaring man flings the whole weight 
 of his ponderous pilot-coated body upon 
 
 G and me : I hear a roar of water, 
 
 and, lo ! we are washed right up along- 
 side of the rude landing-place, still in 
 the boat indeed, but wet and frightened 
 to the last degree. Looking back on it 
 all, I can distinctly remember that it was 
 not the sight of the overhanging wave 
 which cost me my deadliest pang of sick- 
 ening fright, but the glimpse I caught of 
 the shining, cruel-looking sand, sucking 
 us in so silently and greedily. We were 
 all trembling so much that it seemed as 
 impossible to stand upright on the earth 
 as on the tossing waters, and it was with 
 reeling, drunken-looking steps that we 
 rolled and staggered through the heavy 
 sand-street until we reached the shelter 
 of an exceedingly dirty hotel. Every- 
 thing in it required courage to touch, and 
 it was with many qualms that I deposited 
 limp little G on a filthy sofa. How- 
 ever, the mistress of the house looked 
 clean, and so did the cups and saucers 
 she quickly produced ; and by the time 
 we had finished a capital breakfast we 
 were all quite in good spirits again, and 
 so sharpened up as to be able to "mock 
 ourselves" of our past perils and present 
 discomforts. Outside there were strange, 
 beautiful shrubs in flower, tame pigeons 
 came cooing and bowing in at the door, 
 and above all there was an enchanting 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 freshness and balminess in the sunny 
 air. 
 
 In about an hour "Capting Florence" 
 
 (as G styles our new commander) 
 
 calls for us and takes us out sight-seeing. 
 First and foremost, across the river to the 
 rapidly-growing railway lines, where a 
 brand-new locomotive was hissing away 
 with full steam up. Here we were met 
 and welcomed by the energetic superin- 
 tendent of this iron road, and, to my in- 
 tense delight, after explaining to me what 
 a long distance into the interior the line 
 had to go and how fast it was getting on, 
 considering the difficulties in the way 
 of doing anything in South Africa, from 
 washing a pocket-handkerchief up to lay- 
 ing down a railway, he proposed that we 
 should get on the engine and go as far 
 as the line was open for anything like 
 safe traveling. Never were such de- 
 lightful five minutes as those spent in 
 whizzing along through the park-like 
 country and cutting fast through the 
 heavenly air. In vain did I smell that 
 my serge skirts were getting dreadfully 
 singed, in vain did I see most uncertain 
 bits of rail before me : it was all too per- 
 fectly enchanting to care for danger or 
 disgrace, and I could have found it in 
 
 my heart to echo G 's plaintive cry 
 
 for "More!" when we came to the end 
 and had to get off. But it consoled us a 
 little to watch the stone-breaking ma- 
 chine crunching up small rocks as though 
 they had been lumps of sugar, and after 
 looking at that we set off for the unfin- 
 ished station, and could take in, even in 
 its present skeleton state, how commo- 
 dious and handsome it will all be some 
 day. You are all so accustomed to be 
 whisked about the civilized world when 
 and where you choose that it is difficult 
 to make you understand the enormous 
 boon the first line of railway is to a new 
 country not only for the convenience 
 of travelers, but for the transport of goods, 
 the setting free of hundreds of cattle and 
 horses and drivers all sorely needed for 
 other purposes and the fast-following 
 effects of opening up the resources of the 
 back districts. In these regions labor is 
 the great difficulty, and one needs to hold 
 both patience and temper fast with both 
 
 one's hands when watching either Kafir 
 or Coolie at work. The white man can- 
 not or will not do much with his hands 
 out here, so the navvies are slim-looking 
 blacks, who jabber and grunt and sigh 
 a good deal more than they work. 
 
 It is a fortunate circumstance that the 
 delicious air keeps us all in a chronic state 
 of hunger, for it appears in South Africa 
 that one is expected to eat every half 
 hour or so. And, shamed am I to con- 
 fess, we do eat and eat with a good ap- 
 petite too a delicious luncheon at the 
 superintendent's, albeit it followed close- 
 ly on the heels of our enormous break- 
 fast at the dirty hotel. Such a pretty lit- 
 tle bachelor's box as it was ! so cool and 
 quiet and neat! built somewhat after 
 the fashion of the Pompeian houses, with 
 a small square garden full of orange 
 trees in the centre, and the house run- 
 ning round this opening in four corridors. 
 After lunch a couple of nice, light Cape 
 carts came to the door, and we set off to 
 see a beautiful garden whose owner had 
 all a true Dutchman's passion for flowers. 
 Here was fruit as well as flowers. .Pine- 
 apples and jasmine, strawberries and 
 honeysuckle, grew side by side with bor- 
 dering orange trees, feathery bamboos 
 and sheltering gum trees. In the midst 
 of the garden stood a sort of double plat- 
 form, up whose steep border we all climb- 
 ed : from this we got a good idea of the 
 slightly undulating land all about, waving 
 down like solidified billows to where the 
 deep blue waters sparkled and rolled 
 restlessly beyond the white line of waves 
 ever breaking on the bar. I miss ani- 
 mal life sadly in these parts : the dogs I 
 see about the streets are few in number, 
 and miserably currish specimens of their 
 kind. "Good dogs don't answer out 
 here," I am told: that is to say, they 
 get a peculiar sort of distemper, or ticks 
 bite them, or they got weak from loss 
 of blood, or become degenerate in some 
 way. The horses and cattle are small 
 and poor-looking, and hard-worked, very 
 dear to buy and very difficult to keep and 
 to feed. I don't even see many cats, 
 and a pet bird is a rarity. However, as 
 we stood on the breezy platform I saw a 
 most beautiful wild bird fly over the rose- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 hedge just below us. It was about as big 
 as a crow, but with a strange iridescent 
 plumage. When it flitted into the sun- 
 shine its back and wings shone like a 
 rainbow, and the next moment it looked 
 perfectly black and velvety in the shade. 
 Now a turquoise-blue tint comes out on 
 its spreading wings, and a slant in the 
 sunshine turns the blue into a chryso- 
 prase green. Nobody could tell me its 
 name : our Dutch host spoke exactly 
 like Hans Breitmann, and declared it 
 was a "bid of a crow," and so we had 
 to leave it and the platform and come 
 down to more roses and tea. There 
 was so much yet to be seen and to be 
 done that we could not stay long, and, 
 laden with magnificent bouquets of gloire 
 de Dijon roses and honeysuckle, and 
 divers strange and lovely flowers, we 
 drove off again in our Cape carts. I ob- 
 served that instead of saying "Whoa!" or 
 checking the horses in any way by the 
 reins, the driver always whistles to them 
 a long, low whistle and they stand quite 
 still directly. We bumped up and down, 
 over extraordinarily rough places, and 
 finally slid down a steep cutting to the 
 brink of the river Buffalo, over which we 
 were ferried, all standing, on a big punt, 
 or rather pontoon. A hundred yards or 
 so of rapid driving then took us to a sort 
 of wharf which projected into the river, 
 where the important-looking little tug 
 awaited us ; and no sooner were we all 
 safely on board rather a large party by 
 this time, for we had gone on picking up 
 stragglers ever since we started, only 
 three in number, from the hotel than 
 she sputtered and fizzed herself off up- 
 stream. By this time it was the after- 
 noon, and I almost despair of making 
 you see the woodland beauty of that 
 broad mere, fringed down to the water's 
 edge ori one side with shrubs and tangle 
 of roses and woodbine, with ferns and 
 every lovely green creeping thing. That 
 was on the bank which was sheltered 
 from the high winds : the other hillside 
 showed the contrast, for there, though 
 green indeed, only a few feathery tufts of 
 pliant shrubs had survived the force of 
 some of these south-eastern gales. We 
 paddled steadily along in mid-stream, 
 
 and from the bridge (where little G 
 
 and I had begged " Capting Florence" 
 to let us stand) one could see the double 
 of each leaf and tendril and passing 
 cloud mirrored sharp and clear in the 
 crystalline water. The lengthening shad- 
 ows from rock and fallen crag were in 
 some places flung quite across our little 
 boat, and so through the soft, lovely air, 
 flooded with brightest sunshine, we made 
 our way, up past Picnic Creek, where 
 another stream joins the Buffalo, and 
 makes miniature green islands and har- 
 bors at its mouth, up as far as the river 
 was navigable for even so small a steamer 
 as ours. Every one was sorry when it 
 became time to turn, but there was no 
 choice: the sun-burned, good-looking 
 captain of the tug held up a warning 
 hand, and round we went with a wide 
 sweep, under the shadows, out into the 
 sunlight, down the middle of the stream, 
 all too soon to please us. 
 
 Before we left East London, however, 
 there was one more great work to be 
 glanced at, and accordingly we paid a 
 hasty visit to the office of the superin- 
 tendent of the new harbor-works, and 
 saw plans and drawings of what will in- 
 deed be a magnificent achievement when 
 carried out. Yard by yard, with patient 
 under-sea sweeping, all that waste of 
 sand brought down by the Buffalo is 
 being cleared away ; yard by yard, two 
 massive arms of solidest masonry are 
 stretching themselves out beyond those 
 cruel breakers : the river is being forced 
 into so narrow a channel that the rush 
 of the water must needs carry the sand 
 far out to sea in future, and scatter it in 
 soundings where it cannot accumulate 
 into such a barrier as that which now ex- 
 ists. Lighthouses will guard this safe en- 
 trance into a tranquil anchorage, and so, 
 at some not too far distant day, there is 
 good hope that East London may be 
 one of the most valuable harbors on 
 this vast coast ; and when her railway 
 has reached even the point to which it is 
 at present projected, nearly two hundred 
 miles away, it will indeed be a thriving 
 place. Even now, there is a greater air 
 of movement and life and progress about 
 the little seaport, what with the railway 
 
i6 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 and the harbor-works, than at any other 
 place I have yet seen ; and each great 
 undertaking is in the hands of men of 
 first-rate ability and experience, who are 
 as persevering as they are energetic. After 
 looking well over these most interesting 
 plans there was nothing left for us to do 
 except to make a sudden raid on the 
 hotel, pick up our shawls and bags, pay 
 a most moderate bill of seven shillings 
 and sixpence for breakfast for three peo- 
 ple and luncheon for two, and the use 
 of a room all day, piteously entreat the 
 mistress of the inn to sell us half a bot- 
 tle of milk for G 's breakfast to-mor- 
 row as he will not drink the preserved 
 milk and so back again on board the 
 tug. The difficulty about milk and but- 
 ter is the first trouble which besets a 
 family traveling in these parts. Every- 
 where milk is scarce and poor, and the 
 butter such as no 'charwoman would 
 touch in England. In vain does one be- 
 hold from the sea thousands of acres 
 of what looks like undulating green pas- 
 turage, and inland the same waving 
 green hillocks stretch as far as the eye 
 can reach : there is never a sheep or 
 cow to be seen, and one hears that there 
 is no water, or that the grass is sour, 
 or that there is a great deal of sickness 
 about among the animals in that local- 
 ity. Whatever the cause, the result is 
 the same namely, that one has to go 
 down on one's knees for a cupful of milk, 
 which is but poor, thin stuff at its best, 
 and that Irish salt butter out of a tub is 
 a costly delicacy. 
 
 Having secured this precious quarter 
 of a bottle of milk, for which I was real- 
 ly as grateful as though it had been the 
 Koh-i-noor, we hastened back to the 
 wharf and got on board the little tug 
 
 again. " Now for the bridge !" cry G 
 
 and I, for has not Captain Florence prom- 
 ised us a splendid but safe tossing across 
 the bar ? And faithfully he and the bar 
 and the boat keep their word, for we are 
 in no danger, it seems, and yet we ap- 
 pear to leap like a race-horse across the 
 strip of sand, receiving a staggering buf- 
 fet first on one paddle-wheel and then 
 on the other from the angry guardian 
 breakers, which seem sworn foes of 
 
 boats and passengers. Again and again 
 are we knocked aside by huge billows, 
 as though the poor little tug were a wal- 
 nut-shell ; again and again do we re- 
 cover ourselves, and blunder bravely on, 
 sometimes with but one paddle in the 
 water, sometimes burying our bowsprit 
 in a big green wave too high to climb, 
 and dashing right through it as fast as 
 if we shut our eyes and went at every- 
 thing. The spray flies high over our 
 
 heads, G and I are drenched over 
 
 and over again, but we shake the spark- 
 ling water off our coats, for all the world 
 like Newfoundland dogs, and are all 
 right again in a moment. " Is that the 
 
 very last ?" asks G reluctantly as we 
 
 take our last breaker like a five-barred 
 gate, flying, and find ourselves safe and 
 sound, but quivering a good deal, in what 
 seems comparatively smooth water. Is 
 it smooth, though ? Look at the Florence 
 and all the other vessels. Still at it, see- 
 saw, backward and forward, roll, roll, 
 roll ! How thankful we all are to have 
 escaped a long day of sickening, monot- 
 onous motion ! But there is the get- 
 ting on board to be accomplished, for 
 the brave little tug dare not come too 
 near to her big sister steamboat or she 
 would roll over on her. So we signal for 
 a boat, and quickly the largest which the 
 Florence possesses is launched and man- 
 ned no easy task in such a sea, but ac- 
 complished in the smartest and most 
 seamanlike. fashion. The sides of the 
 tug are low, so it is not very difficult to 
 scramble and tumble into the boat, which 
 is laden to the water's edge by new pas- 
 sengers from East London and their lug- 
 gage. When, however, we have reach- 
 ed the rolling Florence it is no easy mat- 
 ter to get out of the said boat and on 
 board. There is a ladder let down, in- 
 deed, from the Florence's side, but how 
 are we to use it when one moment half 
 a dozen rungs are buried deep in the 
 sea, and the next instant ship and ladder 
 and all have rolled right away from us ? 
 It has to be done, however, and what a 
 tower of strength and encouragement 
 does "Capting Florence" prove himself 
 at this juncture ! We are all to sit per- 
 fectly still : no one is to move until his 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 name is called, and then he is to come 
 unhesitatingly and do exactly what he is 
 told. 
 
 " Pass up the baby !" is the first order 
 which I hear given, and that astonishing 
 baby is " passed up " accordingly. I use 
 the word "astonishing" advisedly, for 
 never was an infant so bundled about 
 uncomplainingly. He is just as often up- 
 side down as not ; he is generally hand- 
 ed from one quartermaster to the other 
 by the gathers of his little blue flannel 
 frock ; seas break over his cradle on deck, 
 but nothing disturbs him. He grins and 
 sleeps and pulls at his bottle through ev- 
 erything, and grows fatter and browner 
 and more impudent every day. On this 
 occasion, when after rivaling Leotard's 
 most daring feats on the trapeze in my 
 scramble up the side of a vessel which 
 was lurching away from me I at last 
 reached the deck, I found the ship's car- 
 penter nursing the baby, who had seized 
 the poor man's beard firmly with one 
 hand, and with the finger and thumb of 
 the other was attempting to pick out one 
 of his merry blue eyes. " Avast there !" 
 cried the long-suffering sailor, and gladly 
 relinquished the mischievous bundle to 
 me. 
 
 Up with the anchor, and off we go 
 once more into the gathering darkness 
 of what turns out to be a wet and windy 
 night. Next day the weather had re- 
 covered its temper, and I was called upon 
 deck directly after breakfast to see the 
 "Gates of St. John," a really fine pass 
 on the coast where the river Umzimvubu 
 rushes through great granite cliffs into 
 the sea. If the exact truth is to be told, 
 I must confess I am a little disappointed 
 with this coast-scenery. I have heard 
 so much of its beauty, and as yet, though 
 I have seen it under exceptionally favor- 
 able conditions of calm weather, which 
 has allowed us to stand in very close to 
 shore, I have not seen anything really fine 
 until these "Gates" came in view. It has 
 all been monotonous, undulating downs, 
 here and there dotted with trees, and in 
 some places the ravines were filled with 
 what we used to call in New Zealand 
 bush i. e., miscellaneous greenery. Here 
 and there a bold cliff or tumbled pile of 
 
 red rock makes a landmark for the pass- 
 ing ships, but otherwise the uniformity is 
 great indeed. The ordinary weather 
 along this coast is something frightful, 
 and the great reputation of our little 
 Florence is built on the method in which 
 she rides dry and safe as a duck among 
 these stormy waters. Now that we are 
 close to "fair Natal," the country opens 
 out and improves in beauty. There are 
 still the same sloping, rolling downs, but 
 higher downs rise behind them, and again 
 beyond are blue and purpling hills. Here 
 and there, too, are clusters of fat, dumpy 
 haystacks, which in reality are no hay- 
 stacks at all, but Kafir kraals. Just be- 
 fore we pass the cliff and river which 
 marks where No-Man's Land ends and 
 Natal begins these little locations are 
 more frequently to be observed, though 
 what their inhabitants subsist on is a 
 marvel to me, for we are only a mile or 
 so from shore, and all the seeing power 
 of all the field-glasses on board fails to 
 discern a solitary animal. We can see 
 lots of babies crawling about the hole 
 which serves as door to a Kafir hut, and 
 they are all as fat as little pigs ; but what 
 do they live on ? Buttermilk, I am' told 
 that is to say, sour milk, for the true Kafir 
 palate does not appreciate fresh, sweet 
 milk and a sort of porridge made of 
 mealies. I used to think "mealies " was 
 a coined word for potatoes, but it really 
 signifies maize or Indian corn, which is 
 rudely crushed and ground, and forms 
 the staple food of man and beast. 
 
 In the mean time, we are speeding 
 gayly over the bright waters, never very 
 calm along this shore. Presently we 
 come to a spot clearly marked by some 
 odd-colored, tumbled-down cliffs and the 
 remains of a great iron butt, where, more 
 than a hundred years ago, the Grosvenor, 
 a splendid clipper ship, was wrecked. 
 The men nearly all perished or were 
 made away with, but a few women were 
 got on shore and carried off as prizes to 
 the kraals of the Kafir " inkosis" or chief- 
 tains. What sort of husbands these stal- 
 wart warriors made to their reluctant 
 brides tradition does not say, but it is 
 a fact that almost all the children were 
 born mad, and their descendants are, 
 
i8 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 many of them, lunatics or idiots up to 
 the present time. As the afternoon draws 
 on a chill mist creeps over the hills and 
 provokingly blots out the coast, which 
 gets more beautiful every league we go. 
 I wanted to remain up and see the light 
 on the bluff just outside Port d'Urban, 
 but a heavy shower drove me down to 
 my wee cabin before ten o'clock. Soon 
 after midnight the rolling of the anchor- 
 chains and the sudden change of motion 
 from pitching and jumping to the old 
 monotonous roll told us that we were once 
 more outside a bar, with a heavy sea on, 
 and that there we must remain until the 
 tug came to fetch us. But, alas ! the tug 
 had to make short work of it next morn- 
 ing, on account of the unaccommodating 
 state of the tide, and all our hopes of 
 breakfasting on shore were dashed by a 
 hasty announcement at 5 A. M. that the 
 tug was alongside, the mails were rapid- 
 ly being put on board of her, and that 
 she could not wait for passengers or 
 anything else, because ten minutes later 
 there would not be water enough to float 
 her over the bar. 
 
 " When shall we be able to get over 
 the bar ?" I asked dolefully. 
 
 "Not until the afternoon," was the 
 prompt and uncompromising reply, de- 
 livered through my .keyhole by the au- 
 thority in charge of us. And he proved 
 to be quite right ; but I am bound to say 
 the time passed more quickly than we 
 had dared to hope or expect, for an hour 
 later a bold little fishing-boat made her 
 way through the breakers and across the 
 bar in the teeth of wind and rain, bring- 
 ing F on board. He has been out 
 
 here these eight months, and looks a 
 walking advertisement of the climate 
 and temperature of our new home, so 
 absolutely healthy is his appearance. He 
 is very cheery about liking, the place, 
 and particularly insists on the blooming 
 faces and sturdy limbs I shall see belong- 
 ing to the young Natalians. Altogether, 
 he appears thoroughly happy and con- 
 tented, liking his work, his position, ev- 
 erything and everybody ; which is all 
 extremely satisfactory to hear. There is 
 so much to tell and so much to behold 
 that, as G declares, "it is afternoon 
 
 directly," and, the signal-flag being up, 
 we trip our anchor once more and rush 
 at the bar, two quartermasters and an 
 officer at the wheel, the pilot and captain 
 on the bridge, all hands on deck and on 
 the alert, for always, under the most 
 favorable circumstances, the next five 
 minutes hold a peril in every second. 
 " Stand by for spray !" sings out some- 
 body, and we do stand by, luckily for 
 ourselves, for "spray " means the top of 
 two or three waves. The dear little 
 Florence is as plucky as she is pretty, 
 and appears to shut her eyes and lower 
 her head and go at the bar. Scrape, 
 scrape, scrape ! "We've stuck ! No, we 
 haven't! Helm hard down! Over!" 
 and so we are. Among the breakers, it 
 is true, buffeted hither and thither, knock- 
 ed first to one side and then to the other ; 
 but we keep right on, and a few more 
 turns of the screw take us into calm 
 water under the green hills of the bluff. 
 The breakers are behind us, we have 
 twenty fathoms of water under our keel, 
 the voyage is ended and over, the cap- 
 tain takes off his straw hat to mop his 
 curly head, everybody's face loses the 
 expression of anxiety and rigidity it has 
 worn these past ten minutes, and boats 
 swarm like locusts round the ship. The 
 baby is passed over the ship's side for 
 the last time, having been well kissed 
 and petted and praised by every one as 
 he was handed from one to the other, 
 and we row swiftly away to the low 
 sandy shore of the "Point." 
 
 Only a few warehouses, or rather sheds 
 of warehouses, are to be seen, and a rude 
 sort of railway-station, which appears to 
 afford indiscriminate shelter to boats as 
 well as to engines. There are leisurely 
 trains which saunter into the town of 
 D'Urban, a mile and a half away, every 
 half hour or so, but one -of these "crawl- 
 ers" had just started. The sun was very 
 hot, and we voyagers were all sadly 
 weary and headachy. But the best of 
 the colonies is the prompt, self-sacrificing 
 kindness of old-comers to new-comers. 
 A gentleman had driven down in his 
 own nice, comfortable pony - carriage, 
 and without a moment's hesitation he 
 insisted on our all getting into it and 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 making the best of our way to our hotel. 
 It is too good an offer to be refused, for 
 the sun is hot and the babies are tired to 
 death; so we start, slowly enough, to 
 plough our way through heavy sand up 
 to the axles. If the tide had been out 
 we could have driven quickly along the 
 hard, dry sand; but we comfort our- 
 selves by remembering that there had 
 been water enough on the bar, and make 
 the best of our way through clouds of im- 
 palpable dust to a better road, of which 
 a couple of hundred yards land us at 
 our hotel. It looks bare and unfurnished 
 enough, in all conscience, but it is a new 
 place, and must be furnished by degrees. 
 At all events, it is tolerably clean and 
 quiet, and we can wash our sunburned 
 faces and hands, and, as nurse says, 
 "turn ourselves round." 
 
 Coolies swarm in every direction, pic- 
 turesque fish- and fruit-sellers throng the 
 verandah of the kitchen a little way off, 
 and everything looks bright and green 
 and fresh, having been well washed by 
 the recent rains. There are still, however, 
 several feet of dust in the streets, for they 
 are made of dust ; and my own private 
 impression is, that all the water in the 
 harbor would not suffice to lay the dust 
 of D' Urban for more than half an hour. 
 With the restlessness of people who have 
 been cooped up on board ship for a 
 month, we insist, the moment it is cool 
 enough, on being taken out for a walk. 
 Fortunately, the public gardens are close 
 at hand, and we amuse ourselves very 
 well in them for an hour or two, but we 
 are all thoroughly tired and worn out, 
 and glad to get to bed, even in gaunt, 
 narrow rooms on hard pallets. 
 
 The two following days were spent in 
 looking after and collecting our cum- 
 brous array of boxes and baskets. Tin 
 baths, wicker chairs and baskets, all had 
 to be counted and recounted, until one 
 got weary of the word "luggage;" but 
 that is the penalty of drafting babies 
 about the world. In the intervals of the 
 serious business of tracing No. 5 or run- 
 ning No. 10 to earth in the corner of a 
 warehouse, I made many pleasant ac- 
 quaintances and received kindest words 
 and notes of welcome from unknown 
 
 friends. All this warm-hearted, uncon- 
 ventional kindness goes far to make the 
 stranger forget his "own people and his 
 father's house," and feel at once at home 
 amid strange and unfamiliar scenes. 
 After all, "home" is portable, luckily, 
 and a welcoming smile and hand-clasp 
 act as a spell to create it in any place. 
 We also managed, after business-hours, 
 when it was of no use making expeditions 
 to wharf or custom-house after recusant 
 carpet-bags, to drive to the Botanic Gar- 
 dens. They are extensive and well kept, 
 but seem principally devoted to shrubs. 
 I was assured that this is the worst time 
 of year for flowers, as the plants have not 
 yet recovered from the winter drought. 
 A dry winter and wet summer is the cor- 
 rect atmospheric fashion here : in winter 
 everything is brown and dusty and dried 
 up, in summer green and fragrant and 
 well watered. The gardens are in good 
 order, and I rather regretted not being 
 able to examine them more thoroughly. 
 Another afternoon we drove to the Berea, 
 a sort of suburban Richmond, where the 
 rich semi-tropical vegetation is cleared 
 away in patches, and villas with pretty 
 pleasure-grounds are springing up in 
 every direction. The road winds up the 
 luxuriantly - clothed slopes, with every 
 here and there lovely sea-views of the 
 harbor, with the purpling lights of the 
 Indian Ocean stretching away beyond. 
 Every villa must have an enchanting 
 prospect from its front door, and one can 
 quite understand how alluring to the 
 merchants and business -men of D'Ur- 
 ban must be the idea of getting away 
 after office-hours, and sleeping on such 
 high ground in so fresh and healthy an 
 atmosphere. And here I must say that 
 we Maritzburgians (I am only one in 
 prospective) wage a constant and dead- 
 ly warfare with the D'Urbanites on the 
 score of the health and convenience of 
 our respective cities. We are two thou- 
 sand feet above the sea and fifty-two 
 miles inland, so we talk in a pitying tone 
 of the poor D'Urbanites as dwellers in a 
 very hot and unhealthy place. " Relax- 
 ing" is the word we apply to their cli- 
 mate when we want to be particularly 
 nasty, and they retaliate by reminding 
 
20 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 us that they are ever so much older than 
 we are (which is an advantage in a col- 
 ony), and that they are on the coast, and 
 can grow all manner of nice things which 
 we cannot compass, to say nothing of 
 their climate being more equable than 
 ours, and their thunderstorms, though 
 longer in duration, mere flashes in the 
 pan compared to what we in our amphi- 
 theatre of hills have to undergo at the 
 hands of the electric current. We never 
 can find answer to that taunt, and if the 
 D'Urbanites only follow up their victory 
 by allusions to their abounding bananas 
 and other fruits, their vicinity to the ship- 
 ping, and consequent facility of getting 
 almost anything quite easily, we are com- 
 pletely silenced, and it is a wonder if we 
 retain presence of mind enough to mur- 
 mur " Flies." On the score of dust we are 
 about equal, but I must in fairness confess 
 that D'Urban is a more lively and a bet- 
 ter-looking town than Maritzburg when 
 you are in it, though the effect from a dis- 
 tance is not so good. It is very odd how 
 unevenly the necessaries of existence are 
 distributed in this country. Here at D'Ur- 
 ban anything hard in the way of stone is 
 a treasure : everything is soft and friable : 
 sand and finest shingle, so fine as to be 
 mere dust, are all the available material 
 for road-making. I am told that later on 
 I shall find that a cartload of sand in 
 Maritzburg is indeed a rare and costly 
 thing: there we are all rock, a sort of 
 flaky, slaty rock underlying every place. 
 Our last day, or rather half day, in 
 D'Urban was very full of sightseeing 
 and work. F was extremely anx- 
 ious for me to see the sun rise from the 
 signal-station on the bluff, and accord- 
 ingly he, G and I started with the 
 
 earliest dawn. We drove through the 
 sand again in a hired and springless 
 Cape cart down to the Ppint, got into the 
 port -captain's boat and rowed across a 
 little strip of sand at the foot of a wind- 
 ing path cut out of the dense vegetation 
 which makes the bluff such a refreshing- 
 ly green headland to eyes of wave-worn 
 voyagers. A stalwart Kafir carried our 
 picnic basket, with tea and milk, bread 
 and butter and eggs, up the hill, and it 
 was delightful to follow the windings of 
 
 the path through beautiful bushes bear- 
 ing strange and lovely flowers, and knit 
 together in patches in a green tangle by 
 the tendrils of a convolvulus or clematis, 
 or sort of wild passion-flower, whose blos- 
 soms were opening to the fresh morning 
 air. It was a cool but misty morning, and 
 though we got to our destination in am- 
 ple time, there was never any sunrise at 
 all to be seen. In fact, the sun steadily 
 declined to get up the whole day, so far 
 as I knew, for the sea looked gray and 
 solemn and sleepy, and the land kept its 
 drowsy mantle of haze over its flat shore ; 
 which haze thickened and deepened into 
 a Scotch mist as the morning wore on. 
 We returned by the leisurely railway a 
 railway so calm and stately in its method 
 of progression that it is not at all unusual 
 to see a passenger step calmly out of the 
 train when it is at its fullest speed of crawl, 
 and wave his hand to his companions as 
 he disappears down the by-path leading 
 to his little home. The passengers are 
 conveyed at a uniform rate of sixpence 
 a head, which sixpence is collected pro- 
 miscuously by a small boy at odd mo- 
 ments during the journey. There are 
 no nice distinctions of class, either, for 
 we all travel amicably together in com- 
 partments which are a judicious mixture 
 of a third-class carriage and a cattle- 
 truck. Of course, wood is the only fuel 
 used, and that but sparingly, for it is ex- 
 ceedingly costly. 
 
 There was still much to be done by 
 the afternoon many visitors to receive, 
 notes to write and packages to arrange, 
 for our traveling of these fifty-two miles 
 spreads itself over a good many hours, 
 as you will see. About three o'clock the 
 government mule -wagon came to the 
 door. It may truly and literally be de- 
 scribed as "stopping the way," for not 
 only is the wagon itself a huge and cum- 
 brous machine, but it is drawn by eight 
 mules in pairs, and driven by a couple 
 of black drivers. \ say "driven by a 
 couple of drivers," because the driving 
 was evidently an affair of copartnership : 
 one held the reins such elaborate reins 
 as they were ! a confused tangle of leath- 
 er and the other had the care of two 
 or three whips of differing lengths. The 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 21 
 
 drivers were both jet black not Kafirs, 
 but Cape blacks descendants of the old 
 slaves taken by the Dutch. They ap- 
 peared to be great friends, these two, 
 and took earnest counsel together at ev- 
 ery rut and drain and steep pinch of the 
 road, which stretched away, over hill and 
 dale, before us, a broad red track, with 
 high green hedges on either hand. Al- 
 though the rain had not yet fallen long 
 or heavily, the ditches were all running 
 freely with red, muddy water, and the 
 dust had already begun to cake itself 
 into a sticky, pasty red clay. The wagon 
 was shut in by curtains at the back and 
 sides, and could hold eight passengers 
 easily. Luckily for the poor mules, how- 
 ever, we were only five grown-up people, 
 including the drivers. The road was ex- 
 tremely pretty, and the town looked very 
 picturesque as we gradually rose above 
 it and looked down on it and the harbor 
 together. Of a fine, clear afternoon it 
 would have been still nicer, though I was 
 much congratulated on the falling rain on 
 account of the absence of its alternative 
 dust. Still, it was possible to have too 
 much of a good thing, and by the time 
 we reached Pine Town, only fourteen 
 miles away, the heavy roads were begin- 
 ning to tell on the poor mules, and the 
 chill damp of the clqsing evening made 
 us all only too thankful to get under the 
 shelter of a roadside inn (or hotel, as 
 they are called here), which was snug 
 and bright and comfortable enough to 
 be a credit to any colony. It seemed 
 the most natural thing in the world to be 
 told that this inn was not only a favorite 
 place for people to come out to from 
 D'Urban to spend their holiday time in 
 fine weather (there is a pretty little church 
 in the village hard by), but also that it 
 was quite de rigueur for all honeymoons 
 to be spent amid its pretty scenery. 
 
 A steady downpour of rain all through 
 the night made our early start next day 
 an affair of doubt and discouragement 
 and dismal prophecy ; but we persevered, 
 and accomplished another long stage 
 through a cold persistent drizzle before 
 reaching an inn, where we enjoyed sim- 
 ply the best breakfast I ever tasted, or 
 at all events the best I have tasted in 
 
 Natal. The mules were also unharness- 
 ed, and after taking, each, a good roll 
 on the damp grass, turned out in the 
 drizzling rain for a rest and a nibble 
 until their more substantial repast was 
 ready. The rain cleared up from time 
 to time, but an occasional heavy shower 
 warned us that the weather was still 
 sulky. It was in much better heart and 
 spirits, however, that we made a second 
 start about eleven o'clock, and struggled 
 on through heavy roads up and down 
 weary hills, slipping here, sliding there, 
 and threatening to stick everywhere. 
 Our next stage was to a place where the 
 only available shelter was a filthy inn, 
 at which we lingered as short a time as 
 practicable only long enough, in fact, 
 to feed the mules and then, with every 
 prospect of a finer afternoon, set out once 
 more on the last and longest stage of our 
 journey. All the way the road has been 
 very beautiful, in spite of the shrouding 
 mist, especially at the Inchanga Pass, 
 where round the shoulder of the hill as 
 fair a prospect of curved green hills, dot- 
 ted with clusters of timber exactly like 
 an English park, of distant ranges rising 
 in softly-rounded outlines, with deep vio- 
 let shadows in the clefts and pale green 
 lights on the slopes, stretches before you 
 as the heart of painter could desire. Nest- 
 ling out of sight amid this rich pasture- 
 land are the kraals of a large Kafir loca- 
 tion, and no one can say that these, the 
 children of the soil, have not secured one 
 of the most favored spots. To me it all 
 looked like a fair mirage. I am already 
 sick of beholding all this lovely country 
 lying around, and yet of being told that 
 food and fuel are almost at famine-prices. 
 People say, "Oh, but you should see it 
 in winter. Now it is green, and there is 
 plenty of feed on it, but three months 
 ago no grass-eating creature could have 
 picked up a living on all the country-side. 
 It is all as brown and bare as parchment 
 for half the year. This is the spring." 
 Can you not imagine how provoking it 
 is to hear such statements made by old 
 settlers, who know the place only too 
 well, and to find out that all the radiant 
 beauty which greets the traveler's eye 
 is illusive, for in many places there are 
 
22 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 miles and miles without a drop of water 
 for the flock and herds; consequently, 
 there are no means of transport for all 
 t^iis fuel until the days of railways ? Be- 
 sides which, through Natal lies the great 
 highway to the Diamond Fields, the 
 Transvaal and the Free States, and all 
 the opening-up country beyond ; so it is 
 more profitable to drive a wagon than to 
 till a farm. Every beast with four legs 
 is wanted to drag building materials or 
 provisions. The supply of beef becomes 
 daily more precarious and costly, for the 
 oxen are all "treking," and one hears 
 of nothing but diseases among animals 
 " horse sickness," pleuro-pneumonia, 
 fowl sickness (I feel it an impertinence 
 for the poultry to presume to be ill), and 
 even dogs set up a peculiar and fatal sort 
 of distemper among themselves. 
 
 But to return to the last hours of our 
 journey. The mules struggle bravely 
 along, though their ears are beginning 
 to flap about any way, instead of being 
 held straight and sharply pricked for- 
 ward, and the encouraging cries of "Pull 
 up, Capting ! now then, Blue-bok, hi!" 
 
 become more and more frequent: the 
 driver in charge of the whips is less nice 
 in his choice of a scourge with which to 
 urge on the patient animals, and whacks 
 them soundly with whichever comes first. 
 The children have long ago wearied of 
 the confinement and darkness of the 
 back seats of the hooded vehicle; we 
 are all black and blue from jolting in 
 and out of deep holes hidden by mud 
 which occur at every yard ; but still our 
 flagging spirits keep pretty good, for our 
 little Table Mountain has been left be- 
 hind, whilst before us, leaning up in one 
 corner of an amphitheatre of hills, are 
 the trees which mark where Maritzburg 
 nestles. The mules see it too, and, snif- 
 fing their stables afar off, jog along faster. 
 Only one more rise to pull up : we turn 
 a little off the high-road, and there, amid 
 a young plantation of trees, with roses, 
 honeysuckle and passion-flowers climb- 
 ing up the posts of the wide verandah, a 
 fair and enchanting prospect lying at our 
 feet, stands our new home, with its broad 
 red tiled roof stretching out a friendly 
 welcome to the tired, belated travelers. 
 
MARITZBURG, November, 1875. 
 
 THE weather at the beginning of this 
 month was lovely and the climate 
 perfection, but now (I am writing on its 
 last day) it is getting very hot and try- 
 ing. If ever people might stand excused 
 for talking about the weather when they 
 meet, it is we Natalians, for, especially at 
 this time of year, it varies from hour to 
 hour. All along the coast one hears of 
 terrible buffeting and knocking about 
 among the shipping in the open road- 
 steads which have to do duty for harbors 
 in these parts ; and it was only a few 
 days ago that the lifeboat, with the Eng- 
 lish mail on board, capsized in crossing 
 the bar at D'Urban. The telegram was 
 as telegrams always are terrifying in 
 its vagueness, and spoke of the mail-bags 
 as " floating about." When one remem- 
 bers the vast size of the breakers on which 
 this floating would take place, it sounded 
 hopeless for our letters. They turned up, 
 however, a few days later in a pulpy 
 state, it is true, but quite readable, though 
 the envelopes were curiously blended and 
 engrafted upon the letters inside so 
 much so that they required to be taken 
 together, for it was impossible to separate 
 them. I had recourse to the expedient 
 of spreading my letters on a dry towel 
 and draining them before attempting to 
 dissever the leaves. Still, we were all 
 only too thankful to get our correspond- 
 ence in any shape or form, for precious 
 beyond the power of words to express 
 are home-letters to us, so far away from 
 home. 
 
 But to return to our weather. At first 
 it was simply perfect. Bright hot days 
 not too hot, for a light breeze tempered 
 even the midday heat and crisp, bra- 
 cing nights succeeded each other durfng 
 the first fortnight. The country looked 
 exquisitely green in its luxuriant spring 
 tints over hill and dale, and the rich red 
 clay soil made a splendid contrast on 
 road and track with the brilliant green 
 
 on either hand. Still, people looked 
 anxiously for more rain, declaring that 
 not half enough had fallen to fill tanks 
 or "shuits" (as the ditches are called), 
 and it took four days of continuous down- 
 pour to satisfy these thirsty souls even 
 for the moment. Toward the middle of 
 the month the atmosphere became more 
 oppressive and clouds began to come up 
 in thick masses all round the horizon, 
 and gradually spread themselves^over the 
 whole sky. The day before the heaviest 
 rain, though not particularly oppressive, 
 was remarkable for the way in which all 
 manner of animals tried to get under 
 shelter at nightfall. The verandah was 
 full of big frogs : if a door remained open 
 for a moment they hopped in, and then 
 cried like trapped birds when they found 
 themselves in a corner. As for the wing- 
 ed creatures, it was something wonderful 
 the numbers in which they flew in at the 
 windows wherever a light attracted them. 
 I was busy writing English letters that 
 evening : I declare the cockroaches fair- 
 ly drove me away from the table by the 
 mad way in which they flung themselves 
 into my ink-bottle, whilst the smell of 
 singed moths at the other lamp was quite 
 overpowering. Well, after this came 
 rain indeed not rain according to Eng- 
 lish ideas, but a tropical deluge, as many 
 inches falling in a few hours as would 
 fill your rain-gauges for months. I be- 
 lieve my conduct was very absurd that 
 first rainy night. The little house had 
 just been newly papered, and as the 
 ceiling was not one to inspire confidence, 
 consisting as it did merely of boards 
 roughly joined together and painted 
 white, through which and through the 
 tiles beyond the sky could be seen quite 
 plainly, I suffered the gravest doubts 
 about the water getting in and spoil- 
 ing my pretty new paper. Accordingly, 
 whenever any burst of rain came heavier 
 than its immediate predecessor, I jump- 
 i ed out of bed in a perfect agony of mind, 
 
 23 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 and roamed, candle in hand, all over the 
 house to see if I could not detect a leak 
 anywhere. But the unpromising-look- 
 ing roof and ceiling stood the test brave- 
 ly, and not a drop of all that descend- 
 ing downpour found its way to my new 
 walls. 
 
 By the way, I must describe the house 
 to you, remarking, first of all, that archi- 
 tecture, so far as my observation extends, 
 is at its lowest ebb in South Africa. I 
 have not seen a single pretty building of 
 any sort or kind since I arrived, although 
 in these small houses it would be so easy 
 to break by gable and porch the severe 
 simplicity of the unvarying straight line 
 in which they are built. Whitewashed 
 outer walls with a zinc roof are not un- 
 common, and they make a bald and hid- 
 eous combination until kindly, luxuriant 
 Nature has had time to step in and cover 
 up man's ugly handiwork with her fes- 
 toons of roses and passion-flowers. Most 
 of the houses have, fortunately, red-tiled 
 roofs, which are not so ugly, and mine is 
 among the number. It is so squat and 
 square, however, that, as our landlord 
 happens to be the chief baker of Ma- 
 ritzburg, it has been proposed to christen 
 it "Cottage Loaf," but this idea requires 
 consideration on account of the baker's 
 feelings. In the mean time, it is known 
 briefly as "Smith's," that being the 
 landlord's name. It has, as all the 
 houses here have, a broad projecting 
 roof extending over a wide verandah. 
 Within are four small rooms, two on 
 either side of a narrow passage which runs 
 from one end to the other. By a happy 
 afterthought, a kitchen has been added 
 beyond this extremely simple ground- 
 plan, and on the opposite side a corre- 
 sponding projection which closely resem- 
 bles a packing-case, and which has been 
 painted a bright blue inside and out. 
 This is the dining-room, and evidently 
 requires to be severely handled before 
 its present crude and glaring tints can 
 be at all toned down. At a little distance 
 stands the stable, saddle-room, etc., and 
 a good bedroom for English servants, 
 and beyond that, again, among large 
 clumps of rose-bushes, a native hut. It 
 came up here half built that is, the 
 
 frame was partly put together elsewhere 
 and it resembled a huge crinoline more 
 than anything else in its original state. 
 Since that, however, it has been made 
 more secure by extra pales of bamboo, 
 each tied in its place with infinite trouble 
 and patience by a knot every inch or 
 two. The final stage consisted of care- 
 ful thatching with thick bundles of grass 
 laid on the framework, and secured by 
 long ropes of grass binding the whole 
 together. The door is the very smallest 
 opening imaginable, and inside it is of 
 course pitch dark. All this labor was 
 performed by stalwart Kafir women, one 
 of whom, a fearfully repulsive female, in- 
 formed my cook that she had just been 
 bought back by her original husband. 
 Stress of circumstances had obliged him 
 to sell her, and she had been bought by 
 three other husband-masters since then, 
 but was now resold, a bargain, to her 
 first owner, whom, she declared, she pre- 
 ferred to any of the others. But few as 
 are these rooms, they yet are watertight 
 which is a great point out here and 
 the house, being built of large, awkward 
 blocks of stone, is cool and shady. When 
 I have arranged things a little, it will be 
 quite comfortable and pretty ; and I defy 
 any one to wish for a more exquisite view 
 than can be seen from any corner of the 
 verandah. We are on the brow of a hill 
 which slopes gently down to the hollow 
 wherein nestles the picturesque little 
 town, or rather village, of Maritzburg. 
 The intervening distance of a mile or so 
 conceals the real ugliness and monotony 
 of its straight streets, and hides all archi- 
 tectural shortcomings. The clock-tower, 
 for instance, is quite a feature in the land- 
 scape, and from here one cannot per- 
 ceive that the clock does not go. Noth- 
 ing can be prettier than the effect of the 
 red-tiled roofs and white walls peeping out 
 from among thick clumps of trees, whilst 
 beyond the ground rises again to low 
 hills with deep purple fissures and clefts 
 in their green sides. It is only a couple 
 of years since this little house was built 
 and the garden laid out, and yet the shrubs 
 and trees are as big as if half a dozen years 
 had passed over their leafy heads. As 
 for the roses, I never saw anything like 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 the way they flourish at their own sweet 
 will. Scarcely a leaf is to be seen on 
 the ugly straggling tree nothing but 
 masses of roses of every tint and kind 
 and old-fashioned variety. The utmost 
 I can do in the way of gathering daily 
 basketsful appears only in the light of 
 judicious pruning, and next day a dozen 
 blossoms have burst forth to supply the 
 place of each theft of mine. And there 
 is such a variety of trees ! Oaks and 
 bamboos, blue gums and deodars, seem 
 to flourish equally well within a yard or 
 two of each other, and the more distant 
 flower-beds are rilled with an odd mix- 
 ture of dahlias and daturas, white fleur- 
 de-lis and bushy geraniums, scarlet eu- 
 phorbias and verbenas. But the weeds ! 
 They are a chronic eyesore and grief to 
 every gardener. On path and grass-plat, 
 flower-bed and border, they flaunt and 
 flourish. " Jack," the Zulu refugee, wages 
 a feeble and totally inadequate warfare 
 against them with a crooked hoe, but he 
 is only a quarter in earnest, and stops to 
 groan and take snuff so often that the 
 result is that our garden is precisely in 
 the condition of the garden of the slug- 
 gard, gate and all. This hingeless con- 
 dition of the gate, however, is, I must in 
 fairness state, neither Jack's nor our fault. 
 It is a new gate, but no one will come 
 out from the town to hang it. That is 
 my standing grievance. Because we 
 live about a mile from the town it is 
 next to impossible to get anything done. 
 The town itself is one of the shabbiest as- 
 semblages of dwellings I have ever seen 
 in a colony. It is not to be named on 
 the same day with Christchurch, the cap- 
 ital of Canterbury, New Zealand, which 
 ten years ago was decently paved and 
 well lighted by gas. Poor sleepy Maritz- 
 burg consists now, at more than forty 
 years of age (Christchurch is not twenty- 
 five yet), of a few straight, wide, grass- 
 grown streets, which are only picturesque 
 at a little distance on account of their 
 having trees on each side. On particu- 
 larly dark nights a dozen oil-lamps stand- 
 ing at long intervals apart are lighted, but 
 when it is even moderately starlight these 
 aids to finding one's way about are pru- 
 dently dispensed with. There is not a 
 
 single handsome and hardly a decent 
 building in the whole place. The streets, 
 as I saw them after rain, are veritable 
 sloughs of despond, but they are capa- 
 ble of being changed by dry weather 
 into deserts of dust. It is true, I have 
 only been as yet twice down to the town, 
 but on both visits it reminded me more 
 of the sleepy villages in Washington 
 Irving's stories than of a smart, mod- 
 ern, go-ahead colonial "city." There 
 are some fairly good shops, but they 
 make no show outside, and within the 
 prices of most of the articles sold are 
 nearly double the same things would 
 bring either at Melbourne or at Christ- 
 church. As D 'Urban is barely a month 
 away from London in point of communi- 
 cation, and New Zealand (when I knew 
 it) nearly treble the distance and time, 
 this is a great puzzle to me. 
 
 A certain air of quaint interest and life 
 is given to the otherwise desolate streets 
 by the groups of Kafirs and the teams 
 of wagons which bring fuel and forage 
 into the town every day. Twenty bul- 
 locks drag these ponderous contrivances 
 bullocks so lean that one wonders how 
 they have strength to carry their wide- 
 spreading horns aloft ; bullocks of a stu- 
 pidity and obstinacy unparalleled in the 
 natural history of horned beasts. At 
 their head walks a Kafir lad called a 
 "forelooper," who tugs at a rope fasten- 
 ed to the horns of the leading oxen, and 
 in moments of general confusion invari- 
 ably seems to pull the wrong string and 
 get the whole team into an inextricable 
 tangle of horns and yokes. Sometimes 
 of a quiet Sunday morning these teams 
 and wagons I see "out-spanned" on the 
 green slopes around Maritzburg, making 
 a picturesque addition to the sylvan sce- 
 nery. Near each wagon a light wreath 
 of smoke steals up into the summer 
 air, marking where some preparation of 
 "mealies" is on foot, and the groups of 
 grazing oxen "spans," as each team is 
 called give the animation of animal 
 life which I miss so sadly at every turn 
 in this part of the world. 
 
 In Maritzburg itself I only noticed two 
 buildings which made the least effect. 
 One is the government house, standing 
 
26 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 in a nice garden and boasting of a rath- 
 er pretty porch, but otherwise reminding 
 one except for the sentinel on duty 
 of a quiet country rectory : the other is a 
 small block comprising the public offices. 
 The original idea of this square building 
 must have come from a model dairy. 
 But the crowning absurdity of the place 
 is the office of the colonial secretary, 
 which stands nearly opposite. I am told 
 that inside it is tolerably comfortable, be- 
 ing the remains of an old Dutch build- 
 ing : outside, it can only be compared to 
 a dilapidated barn on a bankrupt farm, 
 and when it was first pointed out to me 
 I had great difficulty, remembering sim- 
 ilar buildings in other colonies, in be- 
 lieving it was a public office. 
 
 The native police look very smart and 
 shiny in their white suits, and must be 
 objects of envy to their black brethren 
 on account of their "knobkerries," the 
 knobbed sticks which they alone are per- 
 mitted to carry officially in their hands. 
 The native loves a stick, and as he is 
 forbidden to carry either an assegai 
 which is a very formidable weapon in- 
 deed or even a knobkerry, only one 
 degree less dangerous, he consoles him- 
 self with a wand or switch in case of 
 coming across a snake. You never see 
 a Kafir without something of the sort in 
 his hand: if he is not twirling a light 
 stick, then he has a sort of rude reed 
 pipe from which he extracts sharp and 
 tuneless sounds. As a race, the Kafirs 
 make the effect of possessing a fine 
 physique : they walk with an erect bear- 
 ing and a light step, but in true leisurely 
 savage fashion. I have seen the black 
 race in four different quarters of the 
 globe, and I never saw one single indi- 
 vidual move quickly of his own free will. 
 We must bear in mind, however, that it 
 is a new and altogether revolutionary 
 idea to a Kafir that he should do any 
 work at all. Work is for women war 
 or idleness for men ; consequently, their 
 fixed idea is to do as little as they can ; 
 and no Kafir will work after he has earn- 
 ed money enough to buy a sufficient 
 number of wives who will work for him. 
 "Charlie," our groom who is, by the 
 way, a very fine gentleman and speaks 
 
 "Ingeliss" after a strange fashion of his 
 own only condescends to work until he 
 can purchase a wife. Unfortunately, the 
 damsel whom he prefers is a costly ar- 
 ticle, and her parents demand a cow, a 
 kettle and a native hut as the price of 
 her hand or hands, rather so Charlie 
 grunts and groans through about as much 
 daily work as an English boy of twelve 
 years old could manage easily. He is a 
 very amusing character, being exceed- 
 ingly proud, and will only obey his own 
 master, whom he calls his great inkosi 
 or chief. He is always lamenting the 
 advent of the inkosi-casa, or chieftainess, 
 and the piccaninnies and their following, 
 especially the "vaiter," whom he detests. 
 In his way, Charlie is a wag, and it is as 
 good as a play to see his pretence of stu- 
 pidity when the " vaiter" or French butler 
 desires him to go and eat "sa paniche." 
 Charlie understands perfectly that he is 
 told to go and get his breakfast of mealy 
 porridge, but he won't admit that it is to 
 be called "paniche," preferring his own 
 word " scoff;" so he shakes his head vio- 
 lently and says, "Nay, nay, paniche." 
 Then, with many nods, "Scoff, ja;" and 
 so in this strange gibberish of three lan- 
 guages he and the Frenchman carry on 
 quite a pretty quarrel. Charlie also 
 "mocks himself" of the other servants, 
 I am informed, and asserts that he is the 
 " indema" or headman. He freely boxes 
 the ears of Jack, the Zulu refugee poor 
 Jack, who fled from his own country, 
 next door, the other day, and arrived 
 here clad in only a short flap made of 
 three bucks' tails. That is only a month 
 ago, and " Jack" is already quite a petit 
 m ait re about his clothes. He ordinarily 
 wears a suit of knickerbockers and a 
 shirt of blue check bound with red, and 
 a string of beads round his neck, but he 
 cries like a baby if he tears his clothes, 
 or still worse if the color of the red braid 
 washes out. At first he hated civilized 
 garments, even when they were only two 
 in number, and begged to be allowed to 
 assume a sack with holes for the arms, 
 which is the Kafir compromise when 
 near a town between clothes and flaps 
 made of the tails of wild beasts or strips 
 of hide. But he soon came to delight in 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 27 
 
 them, and is now always begging for 
 "something to wear." 
 
 I confess I am sorry for Jack. He is 
 the kitchen-boy, and is learning with 
 much pains and difficulty the wrong 
 language. My cook is also French, 
 and, naturally, all that Jack learns is 
 French, and not English. Imagine poor 
 Jack's dismay when, after his three years' 
 apprenticeship to us is ended, he seeks 
 perhaps to better himself, and finds that 
 no one except madame can understand 
 him ! Most of their dialogues are car- 
 ried on by pantomime and the incessant 
 use, in differing tones of voice, of the 
 word " Ja." Jack is a big, loutish young 
 man, but very ugly and feeble, and ap- 
 parently under the impression that he is 
 perpetually " wanted" to answer for the 
 little indiscretion, whatever it was, on 
 account of which he was forced to flee 
 over the border. He is timid and scared 
 to the last degree, and abjectly anxious 
 to please if it does not entail too much 
 exertion. He is, as it were, apprenticed 
 to us for three years. We are bound to 
 feed and clothe and doctor him, and he 
 is to work for us, in his own lazy fash- 
 ion, for small wages. The first time Jack 
 broke a plate his terror and despair were 
 quite edifying to behold. Madame call- 
 ed him a " maladroit" on the spot. Jack 
 learned this word, and after his work was 
 over seated himself gravely on the ground 
 with the fragments of the plate, which he 
 tried to join together, but gave up the 
 attempt at last, announcing in his own 
 tongue that it was "dead." After a lit- 
 tle consideration he said slowly, several 
 times, " Maldraw, ja," and hit himself a 
 good thump at each "ja." Now, I grieve 
 to say, Jack breaks plates, dishes and 
 cups with a perfectly easy and unembar- 
 rassed qonscience, and is already far too 
 civilized to care in the least for his mis- 
 fortunes in that line. Whenever a fowl 
 is killed and I came upon Jack slowly 
 putting one to death the other day with 
 a pair of nail-scissors he possesses him- 
 self of a small store of feathers, which he 
 wears tastefully placed over his left ear. 
 A gay ribbon, worn like a bandeau across 
 the forehead, is what he really loves. 
 Jack is very proud of a tawdry ribbon of 
 
 many colors with a golden ground which 
 I found for him the other day, only he 
 never can make up his mind where to 
 wear it ; and I often come upon him sit- 
 ting in the shade with the ribbon in his 
 hands, gravely considering the question. 
 The Pickle and plague of the estab- 
 lishment, however, is the boy Tom, a 
 grinning young savage fresh from his 
 kraal, up to any amount of mischief, 
 who in an evil hour has been engaged 
 as the baby's body-servant. I cannot 
 trust him with the child out of my sight 
 for a moment, for he " snuffs " enormous- 
 ly, and smokes coarse tobacco out of a 
 cow's horn, and is anxious to teach the 
 baby both these accomplishments. Tom 
 wears his snuff-box which is a brass 
 cylinder a couple of inches long in 
 either ear impartially, there being huge 
 slits in the cartilage for the purpose, and 
 the baby never rests till he gets posses- 
 sion of it and sneezes himself nearly into 
 fits. Tom likes nursing Baby immensely, 
 and croons to him in a strange buzzing 
 way which lulls him to sleep invariably. 
 He is very anxious, however, to acquire 
 some words of English, and I was much 
 startled the other day to hear in the ve- 
 randah my own voice saying, " What is 
 it, dear?" over and over again. This 
 phrase proceeded from Tom, who kept 
 on repeating it, parrot-fashion an exact 
 imitation, but with no idea of its mean- 
 ing. I had heard the baby whimpering a 
 little time before, and Tom had remark- 
 ed that these four words produced the 
 happiest effect in restoring good-humor ; 
 so he learned them, accent and all, on 
 the spot, and used them as a spell or 
 charm on the next opportunity. I think 
 even the poor baby was puzzled. But 
 one cannot feel sure of what Tom will 
 do next. A few evenings ago I trusted 
 him to wheel the perambulator about 
 the garden-paths, but, becoming anxious 
 in a very few minutes to know what he 
 was about, I went to look for him. I 
 found him grinning in high glee, watch- 
 ing the baby's efforts at cutting his teeth 
 on a live young bird. Master Tom had 
 spied a nest, climbed the tree, and 
 brought down the poor little bird, which 
 he presented to the child, who instantly 
 
28 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 put it into his mouth. When I arrived on 
 the scene Baby's mouth was full of feath- 
 ers, over which he was making a very 
 disgusted face, and the unhappy bird was 
 nearly dead of fright and squeezing, whilst 
 Tom was in such convulsions of laughter 
 that I nearly boxed his ears. He show- 
 ed me by signs how Baby insisted on 
 sucking the bird's head, and conveyed 
 his intense amusement at the idea. I 
 made Master Tom climb the tree instant- 
 ly and put the poor little half- dead crea- 
 ture back into its nest, and sent for 
 Charlie to explain to him he should have 
 no sugar the only punishment Tom 
 cares about for two days. I often think, 
 however, that I must try and find anoth- 
 er penalty, for when Tom's allowance of 
 sugar is stopped he "requisitions" that 
 of every one else, and so gets rather more 
 than usual. He is immensely proud of 
 the brass chin-strap of an old artillery 
 bushy which has been given to him. He 
 used to wear it across his forehead in the 
 favorite Kafir fashion, but as the baby 
 always made it his first business to pull 
 this shining strap down over Tom's eyes, 
 and eventually over Tom's mouth, it has 
 been transferred to his neck. 
 
 These Kafir-lads make excellent nurse- 
 boys generally, and English children are 
 very fond of them. Nurse-girls are rare, 
 as the Kafir women begin their lives of 
 toil so early that they are never very 
 handy or gentle in a house, and boys are 
 easier to train as servants. I heard to- 
 day, however, of an excellent Kafir nurse- 
 maid who was the daughter of a chief, 
 and whose only drawback was the size 
 of her family. She was actually and 
 truly one of eighty brothers and sisters, 
 her father being a rich man with twenty- 
 five wives. That simply means that he 
 had twenty - five devoted slaves, who 
 worked morning, noon and night for 
 him in field and mealy-patch without 
 wages. Jack the Zulu wanted to be 
 nurse-boy dreadfully, and used to follow 
 Nurse about with a towel rolled up into 
 a bundle, and another towel arranged as 
 drapery, dandling an imaginary baby on 
 his arm, saying plaintively, " Piccaninny, 
 piccaninny !" This Nurse translated to 
 mean that he was an experienced nurse- 
 
 boy, and had taken care of a baby in his 
 own country, but as I had no confidence 
 in maladroit Jack, who chanced to be 
 very deaf besides, he was ruthlessly 
 relegated to his pots and pans. 
 
 It is very curious to see the cast-off 
 clothes of all the armies of Europe find- 
 ing their way hither. The natives of 
 South Africa prefer an old uniform coat 
 or tunic to any other covering, and the 
 effect of a short scarlet garment when 
 worn with bare legs is irresistibly droll. 
 The apparently inexhaustible supply of 
 old-fashioned English coatees with their 
 worsted epaulettes is just coming to an 
 end, and being succeeded by ragged red 
 tunics, franc-tireurs' brownish-green jack- 
 ets and much-worn Prussian gray coats. 
 Kafir-Land may be looked upon as the 
 old-clothes shop of all the fighting world, 
 for sooner or later every cast-off scrap 
 of soldier's clothing drifts toward it. 
 Charlie prides himself much upon the 
 possession of an old gray great-coat, so 
 patched and faded that it may well have 
 been one of those which toiled up the 
 slopes of Inkerman that rainy Sunday 
 morning twenty years ago ; whilst scamp- 
 ish Tom got well chaffed the other day 
 for suddenly making his appearance clad 
 in a stained red tunic with buff collar 
 and cuffs, and the number of the old 
 "dirty Half-hundred" in tarnished metal 
 on the shoulder-scales. "Sir Garnet," 
 cried Charlie the witty, whilst Jack affect- 
 ed to prostrate himself before the grin- 
 ning imp, exclaiming, "O great inkosi !" 
 
 Charlie is angry with me just now, and 
 looks most reproachfully my way on all 
 occasions. The cause is that he was 
 sweeping away sundry huge spiders' 
 webs from the roof of the verandah (the 
 work of a single night) when I heard 
 him coughing frightfully. I gave him 
 some lozenges, saying, " Do your cough 
 good, Charlie." Charlie received them 
 in both hands held like a cup, the high- 
 est form of Kafir gratitude, and gulped 
 them all down on the spot. Next day 
 I heard the same dreadful cough, and 
 told F to give him some more loz- 
 enges. But Charlie would have none 
 of them, alleging he "eats plenty to- 
 morrow's yesterday, and dey no good 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 29 
 
 at all;" and he evidently despises me ! 
 and my remedies. 
 
 If only there were no hot winds ! But 
 the constant changes are so trying and 
 so sudden. Sometimes we have a hot, 
 scorching gale all day, drying and parch- 
 ing one's very skin up, and shriveling 
 one's lovely roses like the blast from a 
 furnace: then in the afternoon a dark 
 cloud sails suddenly up from behind the 
 hills to the west. It is over the house 
 before one knows it is coming: a loud 
 clap of thunder shakes the very ground 
 beneath one's feet, others follow rapid- 
 ly, and a thunderstorm bewilders one for 
 some ten minutes or so. A few drops 
 of cold rain fall to the sound of the dis- 
 tant thunder, now rolling away eastward, 
 which yet "struggles and howls at fits." 
 It is not always distant, but we have not 
 yet seen a real thunderstorm ; only a few 
 of these short, sudden electrical disturb- 
 ances, which come and go more like ex- 
 plosions than anything else. A few days 
 ago there was a duststorm which had a 
 very curious effect as we looked down 
 upon it from this hill. All along the 
 roads one could watch the dust being 
 caught up, as it were, and whirled along 
 in dense clouds, whilst the poor little 
 town itself was absolutely blotted out by 
 the blinding masses of fine powder. For 
 half an hour or so we could afford to watch 
 and smile at our neighbors' plight, but 
 soon we had to flee for shelter ourselves 
 within the house, for a furious hot gale 
 drove heavily up behind the dust and 
 nearly blew us away altogether. Still, 
 there was no thunderstorm, though we 
 quite wished for one to cool the air and 
 refresh the parched and burnt-up grass 
 and flowers. Such afternoons are gen- 
 erally pretty sure to be succeeded by a 
 cold night, and perhaps a cold, damp 
 morning; and one can already under- 
 stand that these alternations during the 
 summer months are apt to produce dys- 
 entery among young children. I hear 
 just now of a good many such ca^es 
 among babies. 
 
 I have been so exceedingly busy this 
 month packing, arranging and settling 
 that there has been but little time for 
 going about and seeing the rather pretty 
 
 environs of Maritzburg; besides which, 
 the weather is dead against excursions, 
 changing as it does to rain or threaten- 
 ing thunderstorms nearly every after- 
 noon. One evening we ventured out for 
 a walk in spite of growlings and spittings 
 up above among the crass-looking clouds. 
 Natal is not a nice country, for women 
 at all events, to walk in. You have to 
 keep religiously to the road or track, for 
 woe betide the rash person who ventures 
 on the grass, though from repeated burn- 
 ings all about these hills it is quite short. 
 There is a risk of your treading on a 
 snake, and a certainty of your treading 
 on a frog. You will soon find your legs 
 covered with small and pertinacious ticks, 
 who have apparently taken a "header" 
 into your flesh and made up their minds 
 to die sooner than let go. They must be 
 the bull -dogs of the insect tribe, these 
 ticks, for a sharp needle will scarcely 
 dislodge them. At the last extremity of 
 extraction they only burrow their heads 
 deeper into the skin, and will lose this 
 important part of their tiny bodies soon- 
 er than yield to the gentlest leverage. 
 Then there are myriads of burs which 
 cling to you in green and brown scales 
 of roughness, and fringe your petticoats 
 with their sticky little lumps. As for the 
 poor petticoats themselves, however short 
 you may kilt them, you bring them back 
 from a walk deeply flounced with the red 
 clay of the roads ; and as the people who 
 wash do not seem to consider this a dis- 
 advantage, and take but little pains to 
 remove the earth-stains, one's garments 
 gradually acquire, even when clean, a 
 uniform bordering of dingy red. All 
 the water at this time of year is red too ; 
 as the rivers are stirred up by the heavy 
 summer rains, and resemble angry mud- 
 dy ditches more than fresh-water streams. 
 I miss at every turn the abundance of 
 clear, clean, sparkling water in the creeks 
 and rivers of my dear New Zealand, and 
 it is only after heavy rain, when every 
 bath and large vessel has been turned 
 into a receptacle during the downpour, 
 that one can compass the luxury of an 
 inviting-looking bath or glass of drink- 
 ing-water. Of course this turbid water 
 renders it pretty difficult to get one's 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 clothes properly washed, and the substi- 
 tute for a mangle is an active Kafir, who 
 makes the roughly-dried clothes up into 
 a neat parcel, places them on a stone 
 and dances up and down upon them for 
 as long or short a time as he pleases. 
 Fuel is so enormously dear that the cost 
 of having clothes ironed is something 
 astounding, and altogether washing is 
 one of the many costly items of Natal- 
 ian housekeeping. When I remember 
 the frantic state of indignation and alarm 
 we were all in in England three years 
 ago when coals rose to 2 los. a ton, 
 and think how cheap I should consider 
 that price for fuel here, I can't help a 
 melancholy smile. Nine solid sovereigns 
 purchase you a tolerable-sized load of 
 wood, about equal for cooking purposes 
 to a ton of coal ; but whereas the coal is 
 at all events some comfort and conveni- 
 ence to use, the wood is only a source 
 of additional trouble and expense. It 
 has to be cut up and dried, and finally 
 coaxed and cajoled by incessant use of 
 the bellows into burning. Besides the 
 price of fuel, provisions of all sorts seem 
 to me to be dear and bad. Milk is sold 
 by the quart bottle : it is now fourpence 
 per bottle, but rises to sixpence during 
 the winter. Meat is eightpence a pound, 
 but it is so thin and bony, and of such 
 indifferent quality, that there is very little 
 saving in that respect. I have not tasted 
 any really good butter since we arrived, 
 and we pay two shillings a pound for 
 cheesy, rancid stuff. I hear that " meal- 
 ies," the crushed maize, are also very 
 dear, and so is forage for the horses. In- 
 stead of the horses being left out on the 
 run night and day, summer and winter, 
 as they used to be in New Zealand, with 
 an occasional feed of oats for a treat, they 
 need to be carefully housed at night and 
 well fed with oaten straw and mealies to 
 give them a chance against the mysterious 
 and fatal "horse-sickness," which kills 
 them in a few hours. Altogether, so far 
 as my very limited experience of only 
 a few weeks, remember goes, I should 
 say that Natal was an expensive place to 
 live in, owing to the scarcity and dear- 
 ness of the necessaries of life. I am 
 told that far up in the country food and 
 
 fuel are cheap and good, and that it is 
 the dearness and difficulty of transport 
 which forces Maritzburg to depend foi 
 its supplies entirely on what is grown in 
 its own immediate vicinity, where there 
 is not very much land under cultivation ; 
 so we must look to the coming railway 
 to remedy all that. 
 
 If only one could eat flowers, or if wheat 
 and other cereals grew as freely and lux- 
 uriously as flowers grow, how nice it would 
 be! On the open grassy downs about 
 here the blossoms are lovely beautiful 
 lilies in scarlet and white clusters, sev- 
 eral sorts of periwinkles, heaths, cinne- 
 rarias, both purple and white, and gold- 
 en bushes of citisus or Cape broom, load 
 the air with fragrance. By the side of 
 every "spruit" or brook one sees clumps 
 of tall arum lilies filling every little wa- 
 ter-washed hollow in the brook, and the 
 ferns which make each ditch and water- 
 course green and plumy have a sepa- 
 rate shady beauty of their own. This is 
 all in Nature's own free, open garden, 
 and when the least cultivation or care 
 is added to her bounteous luxuriance a 
 magnificent garden for fruit, vegetables 
 and flowers is the result ; always suppos- 
 ing you are fortunate enough to be able 
 to induce these lazy Kafirs to dig the 
 ground for you. 
 
 About a fortnight ago I braved the dirt 
 and disagreeables of a cross-country walk 
 in showery weather for we have not been 
 able to meet with a horse to suit us yet 
 and went to see a beautiful garden a cou- 
 ple of miles away. It was approached 
 by a long double avenue of blue gum 
 trees, planted only nine years ago, but 
 tall and stately as though a century had 
 passed over their lofty, pointed heads, 
 and with a broad red clay road running 
 between the parallel lines of trees. The 
 ordinary practice of clearing away the 
 grass as much as possible round a house 
 strikes an English eye as bare and odd, 
 but when one hears that it is done to 
 avoid snakes, it becomes a necessary 
 and harmonious adjunct to the rest of 
 the scene. In this instance I found these 
 broad smooth walks, with their deep rich 
 red color, a very beautiful contrast to the 
 glow of brilliant blossoms in the enor- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 mous flower-beds. For this garden was 
 not at all like an ordinary garden, still 
 less like a prim English parterre. The 
 beds were as large as small fields, slight- 
 ly raised and bordered by a thick line of 
 violets. Large shrubs of beautiful semi- 
 tropical plants made tangled heaps of 
 purple, scarlet and white blossoms on 
 every side ; the large creamy bells of the 
 datura drooped toward the reddish earth ; 
 thorny shrubs of that odd bluish-green 
 peculiar to Australian foliage grew side 
 by side with the sombre-leaved myrtle. 
 Every plant grew in the most liberal 
 fashion ; green things which we are ac- 
 customed to see in England in small 
 pots shoot up here to the height of lau- 
 rel bushes ; a screen of scarlet euphor- 
 bia made a brilliant line against a back- 
 ground formed by a hedge of shell-like 
 cluster-roses, and each pillar of the ve- 
 randah of the little house had its own 
 magnificent creeper. Up one standard 
 an ipomea twined closely ; another pil- 
 lar was hidden by the luxuriance of a 
 trumpet-honeysuckle ; whilst a third was 
 thickly covered by an immense passion- 
 flower. In shady, damp places grew 
 many varieties of ferns and blue hy- 
 drangeas, whilst other beds were filled 
 by gay patches of verbenas of every hue 
 and shade. The sweet-scented verbena 
 is one of the commonest and most suc- 
 cessful shrubs in a Natal garden, and 
 just now the large bushes of it which one 
 sees in every direction are covered by ta- 
 pering spikes of its tiny white blossoms. 
 But the feature of this garden was roses 
 roses on each side whichever way you 
 turned, and I should think of at least a 
 hundred different sorts. Not the stiff 
 standard rose tree of an English garden, 
 with its few precious blossoms, to be 
 looked at from a distance and admired 
 with respectful gravity. No : in this gar- 
 den the roses grow as they might have 
 grown in Eden untrained, unpruned, in 
 enormous bushes covered entirely by 
 magnificent blossoms, each bloom of 
 which would have won a prize at a rose- 
 show. There was one cloth-of-gold rose 
 bush that I shall never forget its size, 
 its fragrance, its wealth of creamy-yel- 
 lowish blossoms. A few yards off stood 
 
 a still bigger and more luxuriant pyra- 
 mid, some ten feet high, covered with the 
 large, delicate and regular pink bloom 
 of the souvenir de Malmaison. When I 
 talk of a bush I only mean one especial 
 bush which caught my eye. I suppose 
 there were fifty cloth-of-gold and fifty 
 souvenir rose bushes in that garden. 
 Red roses, white roses, tea roses, blush- 
 roses, moss roses, and, last not least, the 
 dear old-fashioned, homely cabbage rose, 
 sweetest and most sturdy of all. You 
 could wander for acres and acres among 
 fruit trees and plantations of oaks and 
 willows and other trees, but you never 
 got away from the roses. There they 
 were, beautiful, delicious things at every 
 turn hedges of them, screens of them 
 and giant bushes of them on either hand. 
 As I have said before, though kept free 
 from weeds by some half dozen scantily- 
 clad but stalwart Kafirs with their awk- 
 ward hoes, it was not a bit like a trim 
 English garden. It was like a garden 
 in which Lalla Rookh might have wan- 
 dered by moonlight talking sentimental 
 philosophy with her minstrel prince un- 
 der old Fadladeen's chaperonage, or a 
 garden that Boccaccio might have peo- 
 pled with his Arcadian fine ladies and 
 gentlemen. It was emphatically a poet's 
 or a painter's garden, not a gardener's 
 garden. Then, as though nothing should 
 be wanting to make the scene lovely, one 
 could hear through the fragrant silence 
 the tinkling of the little "spruit" or brook 
 at the bottom of the garden, and the 
 sweet song of the Cape canary, the same 
 sort of greenish finch which is the parent 
 stock of all our canaries, and whose ac- 
 quaintance I first made in Madeira. A 
 very sweet warbler it is, and the clear, 
 flute-like notes sounded prettily among 
 the roses. From blossom to blossom 
 lovely butterflies flitted, perching quite 
 fearlessly on the red clay walk just be- 
 fore me, folding and unfolding their big 
 painted wings. Every day I see a new 
 kind of butterfly, and the moths which 
 one comes upon hidden away under the 
 leaves of the creepers during the bright 
 noisy day are lovely beyond the power 
 of words. One little fellow is a great 
 pet of mine. He wears pure white wings, 
 
3 2 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 with vermilion stripes drawn in regular 
 horizontal lines across his back, and 
 between the lines are shorter, broken 
 streaks of black, which is at once neat 
 and uncommon ; but he is always in the 
 last stage of sleepiness when I see him. 
 
 I am so glad little G is not old enough 
 
 to want to catch them all and impale 
 them upon corks in a glass case ; so the 
 pretty creatures live out their brief and 
 happy life in the sunshine, without let or 
 hinderance from him. 
 
 The subject of which my mind is most 
 full just now is the purchase of a horse. 
 
 F has a fairly good chestnut cob of 
 
 his own ; G has become possessed, to 
 
 his intense delight, of an aged and long- 
 suffering Basuto pony, whom he fidgets 
 to death during the day by driving him 
 all over the place, declaring he is "only 
 showing him where the nicest grass 
 grows ;" and I want a steed to draw my 
 
 pony-carriage and to carry me. F 
 
 and I are at dagger's drawn on this ques- 
 tion. He wants to buy me a young, 
 handsome, showy horse of whom his ad- 
 mirers predict that "he will steady down 
 presently," whilst my affections are firm- 
 ly fixed on an aged screw who would not 
 turn his head if an Armstrong gun were 
 fired behind him. His owner says Scots- 
 man is "rising eleven :" F declares 
 
 Scotsman will never see his twentieth 
 
 birthday again. F points out to me 
 
 that Scotsman has had rough times of 
 it, apparently, in his distant youth, and 
 that he is strangely battered about the 
 head, and has a large notch out of one 
 ear. I retaliate by reminding him how 
 sagely the old horse picked his way, with 
 a precision of judgment which only years 
 can give, through the morass which lies 
 at the foot of the hill, and which must 
 be crossed every time I go into town (and 
 there is nowhere else to go). That mo- 
 rass is a bog in summer and a honey- 
 comb of deep ruts and holes in winter, 
 which, you must bear in mind, is the 
 dry season here. Besides his tact in 
 the matter of the morass, did I not drive 
 Scotsman the other day to the park, and 
 did he not comport himself in the most 
 delightfully sedate fashion ? You require 
 experience to be on the lookout for the 
 
 perils of Maritzburg streets, it seems, for 
 all their sleepy, deserted, tumble-down 
 air. First of all, there are the transport- 
 wagons, with their long span of oxen 
 straggling all across the road, and a 
 nervous bullock precipitating himself 
 under your horse's nose. The driver, 
 too, invariably takes the opportunity of 
 a lady passing him to crack his whip 
 violently, enough to startle any horse 
 except Scotsman. Then when you have 
 passed the place where the wagons most 
 do congregate, and think you are toler- 
 ably safe and need only look out for ruts 
 and holes in the street, lo ! a furious gal- 
 loping behind you, and some half dozen 
 of the "gilded youth" of Maritzburg 
 dash past you, stop, wheel round and 
 gallop past again, until you are almost 
 blinded with dust or smothered with mud, 
 according to the season. This peril oc- 
 curred several times during my drive 
 to and from the park, and I can only 
 remark that dear old Scotsman kept 
 his temper better than I did: perhaps 
 he was more accustomed to Maritzburg 
 manners. 
 
 When the park was reached at last, 
 across a frail and uncertain wooden 
 bridge shaded by large weeping willows, 
 I found it the most creditable thing I 
 had yet seen. It is admirably laid out, 
 the natural undulations of the ground 
 being made the most of, and exceeding- 
 ly well kept. This in itself is a difficult 
 matter where all vegetation runs up like 
 Jack's famous beanstalk, and where the 
 old proverb about the steed starving 
 whilst his grass is growing falls com- 
 pletely to the ground. There are nu- 
 merous drives, made level by a coating 
 of smooth black shale, and bordered by 
 a double line of syringas and oaks, with 
 hedges of myrtle or pomegranate. In 
 some places the roads run alongside the 
 little river a very muddy torrent when 
 I saw it and then the oaks give way to 
 great drooping willows, beneath whose 
 trailing branches the river swirled an- 
 grily. On fine Saturday afternoons the 
 band of the regiment stationed here 
 plays on a clear space under some 
 shady trees for you can never sit or 
 stand on the grass in Natal, and even 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 33 
 
 croquet is played on bare leveled earth 
 and everybody rides or walks or drives 
 about. When I saw the park there was 
 not a living creature in it, for it was, as 
 most of our summer afternoons are, wet 
 and cold and drizzling ; but, considering 
 that there was no thunderstorm likely to 
 break over our heads that day, I felt that 
 I could afford to despise a silent Scotch 
 mist. We varied our afternoon weather 
 last week by a hailstorm, of which the 
 stones were as big as large marbles. I 
 was scoffed at for remarking this, and 
 assured it was " nothing, absolutely noth- 
 ing," to the great hailstorm of two years 
 ago, which broke nearly every tile and 
 pane of glass in Maritzburg, and left the 
 town looking precisely as though it had 
 been bombarded. I have seen photo- 
 graphs of some of the ruined houses, 
 and it is certainly difficult to believe that 
 hail could have done so much mischief. 
 Then, again, stories reach me of a cer- 
 tain thunderstorm one Sunday evening 
 just before I arrived in which the light- 
 ning struck a room in which a family 
 was assembled at evening prayers, kill- 
 ing the poor old father with the Bible in 
 his hand, and knocking over every mem- 
 ber of the little congregation. My in- 
 formant said, " I assure you it seemed as 
 though the lightning were poured out 
 of heaven in a jug. There were no dis- 
 tinct flashes : the heavens appeared to 
 split open and pour down a flood of 
 blazing violet light." I have seen noth- 
 
 ing like this yet, but can quite realize 
 what such a storm must be like, for I 
 have observed already how different the 
 color of the lightning is. The flashes I 
 have seen were exactly of the lilac col- 
 or he described, and they followed each 
 other with a rapidity of succession un- 
 known in less electric regions. And yet 
 my last English letters were full of com- 
 plaints of the wet weather in London, 
 and much self-pity for the long imprison- 
 ment in-doors. Why, those very people 
 don't know what weather inconveniences 
 are. If London streets are muddy, at 
 all events there are no dangerous mo- 
 rasses in them. No matter how much it 
 rains, people get their comfortable meals 
 three times a day. Here, rain means a 
 risk of starvation (if the little wooden 
 bridge between us and the town were to 
 be swept away) and a certainty of short 
 commons. A wet morning means damp 
 bread for breakfast and a thousand other 
 disagreeables. No, I have no patience with 
 the pampered Londoners, who want per- 
 petual sunshine in addition to their other 
 blessings, for saying one word about dis- 
 comfort. They are all much too civilized 
 and luxurious, and their lives are made 
 altogether too smooth for them. Let them 
 come out here and try to keep house on 
 the top of a hill with servants whose lan- 
 guage they don't understand, a couple of 
 noisy children and a small income, and 
 then, as dear Mark Twain says, " they'll 
 know something about woe." 
 
iv. 
 
 D'URBAN, January 3, 1876. 
 
 I MUST certainly begin this letter by 
 setting aside every other topic for the 
 moment and telling you of our grand 
 event, our national celebration, our his- 
 torical New Year's Day. We have "turn- 
 ed the first sod" of our first inland rail- 
 way, and, if I am correctly informed, at 
 least a dozen sods more, but you must 
 remember, if you please, that our nav- 
 vies are Kafirs, and that they do not un- 
 derstand what Mr. Carlyle calls the beau- 
 ty and dignity of labor in the least. It is 
 all very well for you conceited dwellers 
 in the Old and New Worlds to laugh at 
 us for making such a fuss about a pro- 
 jected hundred miles of railway you 
 whose countries are made into dissected 
 maps by the magic iron lines but for 
 poor us, who have to drag every pound 
 of sugar and reel of sewing-cotton over 
 some sixty miles of vile road between 
 this and Maritzburg, such a line, if it be 
 ever finished, will be a boon and a bless- 
 ing indeed. 
 
 I think I can better make you under- 
 stand how great a blessing if I describe 
 my journeys up and down journeys 
 made, too, under exceptionally favorable 
 circumstances. The first thing which 
 had to be done, some three weeks before 
 the day of our departure, was to pack 
 and send down by wagon a couple of 
 portmanteaus with our smart clothes. I 
 may as well mention here that the cost 
 of the transit came to fourteen shillings 
 each way for three or four small, light 
 packages, and that on each occasion we 
 were separated from our possessions for 
 a fortnight or more. The next step to 
 be taken was to secure places in the daily 
 post-cart, and it required as much min- 
 gled firmness and persuasion to do this 
 as though it had reference to a political 
 crisis. But then there were some hun- 
 dreds of us Maritzburgians all wanting 
 to be taken down to D 'Urban within the 
 space of a few days, and there was noth- 
 34 
 
 ing to take us except the open post-cart, 
 which occupied six hours on the journey, 
 and an omnibus, which took ten hours, 
 but afforded more shelter from possible 
 rain and probable sun. Within the two 
 vehicles some twenty people might, at a 
 pinch, find places, and at least a hun- 
 dred wanted to go every day of that last 
 week of the old year. I don't know how 
 the others managed : they must have got 
 down somehow, for there they were in 
 great force when the eventful day had 
 arrived. 
 
 This first journey was prosperous, de- 
 ceitfully prosperous, as though it would 
 fain try to persuade us that after all there 
 was a great deal to be said in favor of a 
 mode of traveling which reminded one 
 of the legends of the glories of the old 
 coaching days. No dust for there had 
 been heavy rain a few days before a 
 perfect summer's day, hot enough in the 
 sun, but not disagreeably hot as we bowl- 
 ed along, fast as four horses could go, in 
 the face of a soft, balmy summer breeze. 
 We were packed as tightly as we could 
 fit two of us on the coach -box, with 
 the mail - bags under our feet and the 
 driver's elbows in our ribs. The ordi- 
 nary light dog-cart which daily runs be- 
 tween Maritzburg and D'Urban was ex- 
 changed for a sort of open break, strong 
 indeed, but very heavy, one would fancy, 
 for the poor horses, who had to scamper 
 along up and down veldt and berg, over 
 bog and spruit, with this lumbering con- 
 veyance at their heels. Not for long, 
 though : every seven miles, or even less, 
 we pulled up sometimes at a tidy inn, 
 where a long table would be set in the 
 open verandah laden with eatables (for 
 driving fast through the air sharpens 
 even the sturdy colonial appetite), some- 
 times at a lonely shanty by the road- 
 side, from whence a couple of Kafir lads 
 emerged tugging at the bridles of the 
 fresh horses. But I am bound to say 
 that although each of these teams did 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 35 
 
 a stage twice a day, although they were 
 ill-favored and ill-groomed, their harness 
 shabby beyond description, and their 
 general appearance most forlorn, they 
 were one and all in good condition and 
 did their work in first -rate style. The 
 wheelers were generally large, gaunt and 
 most hideous animals, but the leaders oft- 
 en were ponies who, one could imagine, 
 under happier circumstances might be 
 handsome little horses enough, staunch 
 and willing to the last degree. They 
 knew their driver's cheery voice as well 
 as possible, and answered to every cry 
 and shout of encouragement he gave 
 them as we scampered along. Of course, 
 each horse had its name, and equally of 
 course "Sir Garnet" was there in a team 
 with " Lord GifTord" and " Lord Carnar- 
 von " for leaders. Did we come to a 
 steep hillside, up which any respectable 
 English horse would certainly expect to 
 walk in a leisurely, sober fashion, then 
 our driver shook out his reins, blew a 
 ringing blast on his bugle, and cried, 
 "Walk along, Lord Gifford ! think as 
 you've another Victoriar Cross to get top 
 o* this hill ! Walk along, Lord Carnar- 
 von ! you ain't sitting in a cab'net coun- 
 cil here, you know. Don't leave Sir 
 Garnet do all the work, you know. For- 
 ward, my lucky lads ! creep up it !" and 
 by the time he had shrieked out this and 
 a lot more patter, behold ! we were at the 
 top of the hill, and a fresh, lovely land- 
 scape was lying smiling in the sunshine 
 below us. It was a beautiful country we 
 passed through, but, except for a scat- 
 tered homestead here and there by the 
 roadside, not a sign of a human dwelling 
 on all its green and fertile slopes. How 
 the railway is to drag itself up and round 
 all those thousand and one spurs run- 
 ning into each other, with no distinct 
 valley or flat between, is best known to 
 the engineers and surveyors, who have 
 declared it practicable. To the non-pro- 
 fessional eye it seems not only difficult, 
 but impossible. But oh how it is want- 
 ed ! All along the road shrill bugle- 
 blasts warned the slow, trailing ox- 
 wagons, with their naked "forelooper" 
 at their head, to creep aside out of our 
 way. I counted one hundred and twen- 
 
 ty wagons that day on fifty miles of road. 
 Now, if one considers that each of these 
 wagons is drawn by a span of some thir- 
 ty or forty oxen, one has some faint idea 
 of how such a method of transport must 
 waste and use up the material of the 
 country. Something like ten thousand 
 oxen toil over this one road summer and 
 winter, and what wonder is it not only 
 that merchandise costs more to fetch up 
 from D'Urban to Maritzburg than it does 
 to bring it out from England, but that 
 beef is dear and bad ! As transport pays 
 better than farming, we hear on all sides 
 of farms thrown out of cultivation, and 
 as a necessary consequence milk, butter, 
 and so forth are scarce and poor, and in 
 the neighborhood of Maritzburg, at least, 
 it is esteemed a favor to let you have 
 either at exorbitant prices and of most 
 inferior quality. When one looks round 
 at these countless acres of splendid graz- 
 ing-land, making a sort of natural park 
 on either hand, it seems like a bad dream 
 to know that we have constantly to use 
 preserved milk and potted meat as be- 
 ing cheaper and easier to procure than 
 fresh. 
 
 No one was in any mood, however, to 
 discuss political economy that beautiful 
 day, and we laughed and chatted, and 
 ate a great many luncheons, chiefly of 
 tea and peaches, all the way along. Our 
 driver enlivened the route by pointing 
 out various spots where frightful accidents 
 had occurred to the post-cart on former 
 occasions : " You see that big stone ? 
 Well, it war jest there that Langabilile 
 and Colenso, they takes the bits in their 
 teeth, those 'osses do, and they sets off 
 their own pace and their own way. Jim 
 Stanway, he puts his brake down hard 
 and his foot upon the reins, but, Lord 
 love you ! them beasts would ha' pulled 
 his arms and legs both off afore they'd 
 give in. So they runs poor Jim's near 
 wheel right up agin that bank and upsets 
 the whole concern, as neat as needs be, 
 over agin that bit o' bog. Anybody 
 hurt ? Well, yes : they was all what you 
 might call shook. Mr. Bell, he had his 
 arm broke, and a foreign chap from the 
 diamond-fields, he gets killed outright, 
 and Jim himself, had his head cut open. 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 It was a bad business, you bet, and rough 
 upon Jim. Ja !" 
 
 All the driver's conversation is inter- 
 larded with " Ja" but he never says 
 a worse word than that, and he drinks 
 nothing but tea. As for a pipe, or a 
 cigar even, when it is offered to him he 
 screws up his queer face into a droll 
 grimace and says, " No thanks. I want 
 all my nerves, I do, on this bit of road. 
 Walk along, Lady Barker : I'm asham- 
 ed of you, I am, hanging your head like 
 that at a bit of a hill!" It was rather 
 startling to hear this apostrophe all of a 
 sudden, but as my namesake was a very 
 hard-working little brown mare, I could 
 only laugh and declare myself much 
 flattered. 
 
 Here we are at last, amid the tropical 
 vegetation which makes a green and 
 tangled girdle around D' Urban for a 
 dozen miles inland : yonder is the white 
 and foaming line of breakers which 
 marks where the strong current, sweep- 
 ing down the east coast, brings along 
 with it all the sand and silt it can collect, 
 especially from the mouth of the Um- 
 geni River close by, and so forms the 
 dreaded bar which divides the outer 
 from the inner harbor. Beyond this 
 crisp and sparkling line of heaving, toss- 
 ing snow stretches the deep indigo-blue 
 of the Indian Ocean, whilst over all 
 wonderful sunset tints of opal and flame- 
 color are hovering and changing with 
 the changing, wind-driven clouds. Be- 
 neath our wheels are many inches of 
 thick white sand, but the streets are gay 
 and busy, with picturesque coolies in their 
 bright cotton draperies and swiftly-pass- 
 ing Cape carts and vehicles of all sorts. 
 We are in D'Urban indeed D'Urban 
 in unwonted holiday dress and on the 
 tippest tiptoe of expectation and excite- 
 ment. A Cape cart, with a Chinese coo- 
 lie driver, and four horses apparently put 
 in harness together for the first time, was 
 waiting for us and our luggage at the 
 post-office. We got into it, and straight- 
 way began to plunge through the sandy 
 streets once more, turning off the high- 
 road and beginning almost immediately 
 to climb with pain and difficulty the red 
 sandy slopes of the Berea, a beautiful 
 
 wooded upland dotted with villas. The 
 road is terrible for man and beast, and 
 we had to stop every few yards to breathe 
 the horses. At last our destination is 
 reached, through fields of sugar-cane 
 and plantations of coffee, past luxuriant 
 fruit trees, rustling, broad-leafed bananas 
 and encroaching greenery of all sorts, 
 to a clearing where a really handsome 
 house stands, with hospitable, wide-open 
 doors, awaiting us. Yes, a good big bath 
 first, then a cup of tea, and now we are 
 ready for a saunter in the twilight on the 
 wide level terrace (called by the ugly 
 Dutch name "stoop") which runs round 
 three sides of the house. How green 
 and fragrant and still it all is ! Straight- 
 way the glare of the long sunny day, the 
 rattle and jolting of the post-cart, the 
 toil through the sand, all slip away from 
 mind and memory, and the tranquil de- 
 licious present, "with its odors of rest 
 and of love," slips in to soothe and calm 
 our jaded senses. Certainly, it is hotter 
 here than in Maritzburg that assertion 
 we are prepared to die in defence of 
 but we acknowledge that the heat at this 
 hour is not oppressive, and the tropical 
 luxuriance of leaf and flower all around 
 is worth a few extra degrees of tempera- 
 ture. Of course, our talk is of to-mor- 
 row, and we look anxiously at the pur- 
 pling clouds to the -west. 
 
 "A fine day," says our host; and so 
 it ought to be with five thousand people 
 come from far and wide to see the sight. 
 Why, that is more than a quarter of the 
 entire white population of Natal ! Bed 
 and sleep become very attractive sugges- 
 tions, though made indecently soon after 
 dinner, and it is somewhere about ten 
 o'clock when they are carried out, and, 
 like Lord Houghton's famous "fair little 
 girl," we 
 
 Know nothing more till again it is day. 
 
 A fine day, too, is this same New Year's 
 Day of 1876 a glorious day sunny of 
 course, but with a delicious breeze steal- 
 ing among the flowers and shrubs in ca- 
 pricious puffs, and snatching a differing 
 scent from each heavy cluster of blos- 
 som it visits. By mid-day F has 
 
 got himself into his gold-laced coat and 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 37 
 
 has lined the inside of his cocked hat 
 with plaintain-leaves. He has also groan- 
 ed much at the idea of substituting this 
 futile head-gear for his hideous but con- 
 venient pith helmet. I too have donned 
 my best gown, and am horrified to find 
 how much a smart bonnet (the first time 
 I have needed to wear one since I left 
 England) sets off and brings out the 
 shades of tan in a sun-browned face ; 
 and for a moment I too entertain the 
 idea of retreating once more to the pro- 
 tecting depths of my old shady hat. But 
 a strong conviction of the duty one owes 
 to a " first sod," and the consoling reflec- 
 tion that, after all, everybody will be 
 equally brown (a fallacy, by the way : 
 the D'Urban beauties looked very blanch- 
 ed by this summer weather), supported 
 me, and I followed F and his cock- 
 ed hat into the waiting carriage. 
 
 No need to ask, "Where are we to 
 go ?" All roads lead to the first sod to- 
 day. We are just a moment late : F 
 
 has to get out of the carriage and plunge 
 into the sand, madly rushing off to find 
 and fall into his place in the procession, 
 and we turn off to secure our seats in 
 the grand stand. But before we take 
 them I must go and look at the wheel- 
 barrow and spade, and above all at the 
 "first sod." For some weeks past it has 
 been a favorite chaff with us Maritz- 
 burgians to offer to bring a nice fresh, 
 lively sod down with us, but we were 
 assured D'Urban could furnish one. 
 Here it is exactly under the triumphal 
 arch, looking very faded and depressed, 
 with a little sunburned grass growing 
 feebly on it, but still a genuine sod and 
 no mistake. The wheelbarrow was real- 
 ly beautiful, made of native woods with 
 their astounding names. All three speci- 
 mens of the hardest and handsomest 
 yellow woods were there, and they were 
 described to me as, "stink-wood, breeze- 
 wood and sneeze-wood." The rich yel- 
 low of the wood is veined by handsome 
 dark streaks, with " 1876" inlaid in large 
 black figures in the centre. The spade 
 was just a common spade, and could not 
 by any possibility be called anything else. 
 But there is no time to linger and laugh 
 any longer beneath all these fluttering 
 
 streamers and waving boughs, for here 
 are the Natal Carbineers, a plucky little 
 handful of light horse clad in blue and 
 silver, who have marched, at their own 
 charges, all the way down from Maritz- 
 btirg to help keep the ground this fine 
 New Year's Day. Next come a strong 
 body of Kafir police, trudging along 
 through the dust with odd shuffling 
 gait, bended knees, bare legs, bodies 
 leaning forward, and keeping step and 
 time by means of a queer sort of bar- 
 baric hum and grunt. Policemen are 
 no more necessary than my best bonnet : 
 they are only there for the same reason 
 for the honor and glory of the thing. 
 The crowd is kept in order by somebody 
 here and there with a ribboned wand, 
 for it is the most orderly and respectable 
 crowd you ever saw. In fact, such a crowd 
 would be an impossibility in England or 
 any highly-civilized country. There are 
 no dodging vagrants, no slatternly wo- 
 men, no squalid, starving babies. In 
 fact, our civilization has not yet mount- 
 ed to effervescence, so we have no dregs. 
 Every white person on the ground was 
 well clad, well fed, and apparently well- 
 to-do. The " lower orders " were repre- 
 sented by a bright fringe of coolies and 
 Kafirs, sleek, grinning and as fat as or- 
 tolans, especially the babies. Most of 
 the Kafirs were dressed in snow-white 
 knickerbockers and shirts bordered by 
 gay bands of color, with fillets of scar- 
 let ribbon tied round their heads, while 
 as for the coolies, they shone out like a 
 shifting bed of tulips, so bright were the 
 women's chuddahs and the men's jack- 
 ets. All looked smiling, healthy and 
 happy, and the public enthusiasm rose 
 to its height when to the sound of a vig- 
 orous band (it is early yet in the day, 
 remember, O flute and trombone !) a per- 
 fect liliputian mob of toddling children 
 came on the ground. These little peo- 
 ple were all in their cleanest white frocks 
 and prettiest hats : they clung to each 
 other and to their garlands and staves 
 of flowers until the tangled mob remind- 
 ed one of a May-Day fete. Not that any 
 English May Day of my acquaintance 
 could produce such a lavish profusion of 
 roses and buds and blossoms of every 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 hue and tint, to say nothing of such a 
 sun and sky. The children's corner was 
 literally like a garden, and nothing could 
 be prettier than the effect of their little 
 voices shrilling up through the summer 
 air, as, obedient to a lifted wand, they 
 burst into the chorus of the national 
 anthem when the governor and mayor 
 drove up. Cheers from white throats; 
 gruff, loud shouts all together of Bay etc ! 
 (the royal salute) and Inkosi! ("chief- 
 tain") from black throats; yells, ex- 
 pressive of excitement and general good- 
 fellowship, from throats of all colors. 
 Then a moment's solemn pause, a hush- 
 ed silence, bared heads, and the loud, 
 clear tones of a very old pastor in the 
 land were heard imploring the blessing 
 of Almighty God on this our undertak- 
 ing. Again the sweet childish trebles rose 
 into the sunshine in a chanted Amen, 
 and then there were salutes from cannon, 
 feux-de-joie from carbines, and more 
 shoutings, and all the cocked hats were 
 to be seen bowing ; and then one more 
 tremendous burst of cheering told that 
 the sod was cut and turned and trundled, 
 and finally pitched out of the new bar- 
 row back again upon the dusty soil all 
 in the most artistic and satisfactory fash- 
 ion. " There are the Kafir navvies : they 
 are really going to work now." (This lat- 
 ter with great surprise, for a Kafir really 
 working, now or ever, would indeed have 
 been the raree-show of the day.) But 
 this natural phenomenon was left to 
 develop itself in solitude, for the crowd 
 began to reassemble into processions, 
 and generally to find its way under 
 shelter from sun and dust. The five 
 hundred children were heralded and 
 marched off to the tune of one of their 
 own pretty hymns to where unlimited 
 buns and tea awaited them, and we eld- 
 ers betook ourselves to the grateful shade 
 and coolness of the flower-decked new 
 market-hall, open to-day for the first 
 time, and turned by flags and ferns and 
 lavish wealth of what in England are 
 costliest hot-house flowers into a charm- 
 ing banqueting-hall. All these exquisite 
 ferns and blossoms cost far less than the 
 string and nails which fastened them 
 against the walls, and their fresh fra- 
 
 grance and greenery struck gratefully 
 on our sun-baked eyes as we found our 
 way into the big room. 
 
 Nothing could be more creditable to a 
 young colony than the way everything 
 was arranged, for the difficulties in one's 
 culinary path in Natal are hardly to be 
 appreciated by English housekeepers. At 
 one time there threatened to be almost a 
 famine in D'Urban, for besides the pres- 
 sure of all these extra mouths of visitors 
 to feed, there was this enormous lunch- 
 eon, with some five hundred hungry 
 people to be provided for. It seems so 
 strange that with every facility for rear- 
 ing poultry all around it should be scarce 
 and dear, and when brought to market 
 as thin as possible. The same may be 
 said of vegetables : they need no culture 
 beyond being put in the ground, and yet 
 unless you have a garden of your own 
 it is very difficult to get anything like a 
 proper supply. I heard nothing but wails 
 from distracted housekeepers about the 
 price and scarcity of food that week. 
 However, the luncheon showed no sign 
 of scarcity, and I was much amused at 
 the substantial and homely character 
 of the menu, which included cold baked 
 sucking pig among its delicacies. A 
 favorite specimen of the confectioner's 
 art that day consisted of a sort of solid 
 brick of plum pudding, with, for legend, 
 " The First Sod " tastefully picked out in 
 white almonds on its dark surface. But 
 it was a capital luncheon, and so soon 
 as the mayor had succeeded in impress- 
 ing on the band that they were not ex 
 pected to play all the time the speeches 
 were being made, everything went on 
 very well. Some of the speeches were 
 short, but oh ! far, far too many were 
 long, terribly long, and the whole affair 
 was not over before five o'clock. The 
 only real want of the entertainment was 
 ice. It seems so hard not to have it in 
 a climate which can produce such burn- 
 ing days, for those tiresome cheap little 
 ice-machines with crystals are of no use 
 whatever. I got one which made ice 
 (under pressure of much turning) in the 
 ship, but it has never made any here, 
 and my experience is that of everybody 
 else. Why there should not be an ice- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 39 
 
 making or an ice-importing company no 
 one knows, except that there is so little 
 energy or enterprise here that everything 
 is davvdly and uncomfortable because it 
 seems too much trouble to take pains to 
 supply wants. It is the same everywhere 
 throughout the colony : sandy roads with 
 plenty of excellent materials for harden- 
 ing them close by ; no fish to be bought 
 because no one will take the trouble of 
 going out to catch them. But I had bet- 
 ter stop scribbling, for I am evidently 
 getting tired after my long day of un- 
 wonted festivity. It is partly the oppres- 
 sion of my best bonnet, and partly the 
 length of the speeches, which have wea- 
 ried me out so thoroughly. 
 
 MAKITZBURG, January 6. 
 
 Nothing could afford a greater con- 
 trast than our return journey. It was 
 the other extreme of discomfort and mis- 
 ery, and must surely have been sent to 
 make us appreciate and long for the com- 
 pletion of this very railway. We waited 
 a day beyond that fixed for our return, 
 in order to give the effects of a most ter- 
 rific thunderstorm time to pass away, but 
 it was succeeded by a perfect deluge of 
 rain. Rain is not supposed to last long 
 at this season of the year, but all I can 
 say is that this rain did last. When the 
 third day came and brought no sign 
 of clearing up with it, and very little 
 down to speak of, we agreed to delay no 
 longer ; besides which our places in the 
 post-cart could not be again exchanged, 
 as had previously been done, for the 
 stream of returning visitors was setting 
 strongly toward Maritzburg, and we 
 might be detained for a week longer if 
 we did not go at once. Accordingly, we 
 presented ourselves at the D' Urban post- 
 office a few minutes before noon and 
 took our places in the post-cart. My 
 seat was on the box, antf as I flattered 
 myself that I was well wrapped up, I did 
 not feel at all alarmed at the prospect 
 of a cold, wet drive. Who would be- 
 lieve that twenty -four hours ago one 
 could hardly endure a white muslin 
 dressing - gown ? Who w^ould believe 
 that twenty-four hours ago a lace shawl 
 was an oppressive wrap, and that the 
 
 serious object of my envy and admira- 
 tion all these hot days on the Berea has 
 been a fat Abyssinian baby, as black as 
 a coal, and the strongest and biggest 
 child one ever saw. That sleek and 
 grinning infant's toilette consisted of a 
 string of blue beads round its neck, and 
 in this cool and airy costume it used to 
 pervade the house, walking about on all 
 fours exactly like a monkey, for of course 
 it could not stand. Yet, how cold that 
 baby must be to-day ! But if it is, its 
 mother has probably tied it behind her 
 in an old shawl, and it is nestling close 
 to her fat broad back fast asleep. 
 
 But the baby is certainly a most un- 
 warrantable digression, and we must re- 
 turn to our post-cart. The discouraging 
 part of it was that the vehicle itself had 
 been in all the storm and rain of yester- 
 day. Of course no one had dreamed of 
 washing or wiping it out in any fashion, 
 so we had to sit upon wet cushions and 
 put our feet into a pool of red mud and 
 water. Now, if I must confess the truth, 
 I, an old traveler, had done a very stupid 
 thing. I had been lured by the deceitful 
 beauty of the weather when we started 
 into leaving behind me everything except 
 the thinnest and coolest garments I pos- 
 sessed, and I therefore had to set out on 
 this journey in the teeth of a cold wind 
 and driving rain clad in a white gown. 
 It is true, I had my beloved and most 
 useful ulster, but it w r as a light water- 
 proof one, and just about half enough in 
 the way of warmth. Still, as I had an- 
 other wrap, a big Scotch plaid, I should 
 have got along very well if it had not 
 been for the still greater stupidity of the 
 only other female fellow-passenger, who 
 calmly took her place in the open post- 
 cart behind me in a brown holland gown, 
 without scarf or wrap or anything what- 
 ever to shelter her from the weather, ex- 
 cept a white calico sunshade. She was 
 a Frenchwoman too, and looked so pit- 
 eous and forlorn in her neat toilette, al- 
 ready drenched through, that of course 
 I could do nothing less than lend her my 
 Scotch shawl, and trust to the driver's 
 friendly promises of empty corn-bags at 
 some future stage. By the time the bags 
 came or rather by the time we got to 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 the bags I was indeed wet and cold. 
 The ulster did its best, and all that could 
 be expected of it, but no garment manu- 
 factured in a London shop could possi- 
 bly cope with such wild weather, tropical 
 in the vehemence of its pouring rain, 
 wintry in its cutting blasts. The wind 
 seemed to blow from every quarter of 
 the heavens at once, the rain came down 
 in sheets, but I minded the mud more 
 than either wind or rain : it was more 
 demoralizing. On the box-seat I got my 
 full share and more, but yet I was better 
 off there than inside, where twelve people 
 were squeezed into the places of eight. 
 The horses' feet got balled with the stiff 
 red clay exactly as though it had been 
 snow, and from time to time as they gal- 
 loped along, six fresh ones at every stage, 
 I received a good lump of clay, as big 
 and nearly as solid as a croquet-ball, full 
 in my face. It was bitterly cold, and the 
 night was closing in when we drove up 
 to the door of the best hotel in Maritz- 
 burg, at long past eight instead of six 
 o'clock. It was impossible to get out to 
 our own place that night, so there was 
 nothing for it but to stay where we were, 
 and get what food and rest could be coax- 
 ed out of an indifferent bill of fare and a 
 bed of stony hardness, to say nothing of 
 the bites of numerous mosquitoes. The 
 morning light revealed the melancholy 
 state of my unhappy white gown in its 
 full horror. All the rivers of Natal will 
 never make it white again, I fear. Cer- 
 tainly there is much to be said in favor 
 of railway-traveling, after all, especially 
 in wet weather. 
 
 JANUARY 10. 
 
 Surely, I have been doing something 
 else lately besides turning this first sod ? 
 Well, not much. You see, no one can 
 undertake anything in the way of expe- 
 ditions or excursions, or even sight-see- 
 ing, in summer, partly on account of the 
 heat, and partly because of the thunder- 
 storms. We have had a few very severe 
 ones lately, but we hail them with joy on 
 account of the cool clear atmosphere 
 which succeeds to a display of electrical 
 vehemence. We walked home from 
 church a few evenings ago on a very 
 
 wild and threatening night, and I never 
 shall forget the weird beauty of the scene. 
 We had started to go to church about 
 six o'clock : the walk was only two miles, 
 and the afternoon was calm and cloud- 
 less. The day had been oppressively 
 hot, but there were no immediate signs 
 of a storm. While we were in church, 
 however, a fresh breeze sprang up and 
 drove the clouds rapidly before it. The 
 glare of the lightning made every corner 
 of the church as bright as day, and the 
 crash of the thunder shook the wooden 
 roof over our heads. But there was no 
 rain yet, and when we came out in fear 
 and trembling, I confess, as to how we 
 were to get home we could see that the 
 violence of the storm had either passed 
 over or not yet reached the valley in 
 which Maritzburg nestles, and was ex- 
 pending itself somewhere else. So F 
 decided that we might venture. As for 
 vehicles to be hired in the streets, there 
 are no such things, and by the time we 
 could have persuaded one to turn out for 
 us a very doubtful contingency, and 
 only to be procured at the cost of a sove- 
 reign or so the full fury of the storm 
 would probably be upon us. There was 
 nothing for it, therefore, but to walk, and 
 so we set out as soon as possible to climb 
 our very steep hill. Instead of the soft, 
 balmy twilight on which we had counted, 
 the sky was of an inky blackness, but 
 for all that we had light enough and to 
 spare. I never saw such lightning. The 
 flashes came literally every second, and 
 lit up the whole heavens and earth with a 
 blinding glare far brighter than any sun- 
 shine. So great was the contrast, and so 
 much more intense the darkness after each 
 flash of dazzling light, that we could only 
 venture to walk on during the flashes, 
 though one's instinct was rather to stand 
 still, awestricken and mute. The thunder 
 growled and cracked incessantly, but far 
 away, toward the Inchanga Valley. If 
 the wind had shifted ever so little and 
 brought the storm back again, our plight 
 would have been poor indeed ; and with 
 this dread upon us we trudged bravely 
 on and breasted the hillside with what 
 haste and courage we could. During 
 the rare momentary intervals of darkness 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 we could perceive that the whole place 
 was ablaze with fireflies. Every blade 
 of grass held a tiny sparkle of its own, 
 but when the lightning shone out with 
 its yellow and violet glare the modest 
 light of the poor little fireflies seemed to 
 be quite extinguished. As for the frogs, 
 the clamorous noise they kept up sound- 
 ed absolutely deafening, and so did the 
 shrill, incessant cry of the cicalas. We 
 reached home safely and before the rain 
 fell, but found all our servants in the ve- 
 randah in the last stage of dismay and 
 uncertainty what to do for the best. They 
 had collected waterproofs, umbrellas and 
 lanterns ; but as it was not actually rain- 
 ing yet, and we certainly did not require 
 light on our path for they said that each 
 flash showed them our climbing, trudg- 
 ing figures as plainly as possible it was 
 difficult to know what to do, especially 
 as the Kafirs have, very naturally, an 
 intense horror and dislike to going out 
 in a thunderstorm. This storm was not 
 really overhead at all, and scarcely de- 
 serves mention except as the precursor 
 of a severe one of which our valley got 
 the full benefit. It was quite curious to 
 see the numbers of dead butterflies on 
 the garden-paths after that second storm. 
 Their beautiful plumage was not dimmed 
 or smirched nor their wings broken : they 
 would have been in perfect order for a 
 naturalist's collection ; yet they were quite 
 dead and stiff. The natives declare it is 
 the lightning which kills them thus. 
 
 My own private dread to return to 
 that walk home for a moment was of 
 ^stepping on a snake, as there are a great 
 many about, and one especial variety, a 
 small poisonous brown adder, is of so 
 torpid and lazy a nature that it will not 
 glide out of your way, as other snakes 
 do, but lets you tread on it and then bites 
 you. It is very marvelous, considering 
 how many snakes there are, that one 
 
 hears of so few bad accidents. G is 
 
 always poking about in likely places for 
 them, as his supreme ambition is to see 
 one. I fully expect a catastrophe some 
 day, and keep stores of ammonia and 
 brandy handy. Never was such a fear- 
 less little monkey. He is always scam- 
 pering about on his old Basuto pony, and 
 
 of course tumbles off now and then ; but 
 he does not mind it in the least. When 
 he is not trying to break his neck in this 
 fashion he is clown by himself at the riv- 
 er fishing, or he is climbing trees, or 
 down a well which is being dug here, 
 or in some piece of mischief or other. 
 The sun and the fruit are my betes noires, 
 but neither seems to hurt him, though I 
 really don't believe that any other child 
 in the world has ever eaten so many 
 apricots at one time as he has been do- 
 ing lately. This temptation has just been 
 removed, however, for during our short 
 absence at D'Urban every fruit tree has 
 been stripped to the bark every peach 
 and plum, every apple and apricot, clean 
 gone. Of course, no one has done it, 
 but it is very provoking all the same, for 
 it used to be so nice to take the baby out 
 very early, and pick up the fallen apri- 
 cots for breakfast. The peaches are 
 nearly all pale and rather tasteless, but 
 the apricots are excellent in flavor, of a 
 large size and in extraordinary abun- 
 dance. There was also a large and 
 promising crop of apples, but they have 
 all been taken in their unripe state. As 
 a rule, the Kafirs are scrupulously hon- 
 est, and we left plate and jewelry in the 
 house under Charlie's care whilst we were 
 away, without the least risk, for such 
 things they would never touch ; but fruit 
 or mealies they cannot be brought to 
 regard as personal property, and they 
 gather the former and waste the latter 
 without scruple. It is a great objection 
 to the imported coolies, who make very 
 clean and capital servants, that they 
 have inveterate habits of pilfering and 
 are hopelessly dishonest about trifles. 
 For this reason they are sure to get on 
 badly with Kafir fellow - servants, who 
 are generally quite above any tempta- 
 tion of that kind. 
 
 JANUARY 14. 
 
 A few days ago we took G to see 
 
 the annual swimming sports in the small 
 river which runs through the park. It 
 was a beautiful afternoon, for a wonder, 
 with no lowering thunder-clouds over the 
 hills, so the banks of the river were 
 thronged for half a mile and more with 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 spectators. It made a very pretty pic- 
 ture, the large willow trees drooping into 
 the water on either shore, the gay con- 
 course of people, the bright patch of 
 color made by the red coats of the band 
 of the regiment stationed across the 
 stream, the tents for the competitors to 
 change in, the dark wondering faces of 
 Kafirs and coolies, who cannot compre- 
 hend why white people should take so 
 much trouble and run so much risk to 
 amuse themselves. We certainly must 
 appear to them to be possessed by a 
 restless demon of energy, both in our 
 work and our play, and never more so 
 than on this hot afternoon, when, amid 
 much shouting and laughing, the vari- 
 ous water-races came off. The steeple- 
 chase amused us a great deal, where the 
 competitors had to swim over and under 
 various barriers across the river ; and so 
 did the race for very little boys, which 
 was a full and excellent one. The mon- 
 keys took, to the water as naturally as 
 fishes, and evidently enjoyed the fun 
 more than any one. Indeed, the dif- 
 ficulty was to get them out of the water 
 and into the tents to change their swim- 
 ming costume after the race was over. 
 But the most interesting event was one 
 meant to teach volunteers how to swim 
 rivers in case of field service, and the 
 palm lay between the Natal Carbineers 
 and a smart body of mounted police. At 
 a given signal they all plunged on horse- 
 back into the muddy water, and from 
 a very difficult part of the bank too, 
 and swam, fully accoutred and carrying 
 their carbines, across the river. It was 
 very interesting to watch how clever the 
 horses were, and how some of their 
 riders slipped off their backs the mo- 
 ment they had fairly entered the stream 
 and swam side by side with their steeds 
 until the opposite bank was reached ; 
 and then how the horses paused to allow 
 their dripping masters to mount again 
 no easy task in heavy boots and saturated 
 clothes, with a carbine in the left hand j 
 which had to be kept dry at all risks and 
 
 hazards. When I asked little G 
 
 which part he liked best, he answered 
 without hesitation, " The assidents " (an- 
 gli9e, accidents), and I am not sure that 
 
 he was not right ; for, is no Dne vas 
 hurt, the crowd mightily enjoyed seeing 
 some stalwart citizen in his best clothes 
 suddenly topple from his place of van- 
 tage on the deceitfully secure-looking but 
 rotten branch of a tree and take an in- 
 voluntary bath in his own despite. When 
 that citizen further chanced to be clad in 
 a suit of bright-colored velveteen the ef- 
 fect was much enhanced. It is my pri- 
 vate opinion that G was longing to 
 
 distinguish himself in a similar fashion, 
 for I constantly saw him "lying out" on 
 most frail branches, but try as he might, 
 he could not accomplish a tumble. 
 
 JANUARY 17. 
 
 I have had an opportunity lately of 
 attending a Kafir /// de justice, and I 
 can only say that if we civilized people 
 managed our legal difficulties in the 
 same way it would be an uncommonly 
 good thing for everybody except the law- 
 yers. Cows are at the bottom of nearly 
 all the native disputes, and the Kafirs 
 always take their grievance soberly to 
 the nearest magistrate, who arbitrates to 
 the best of his ability between the dis- 
 putants. They are generally satisfied 
 with his award, but if the case is an in- 
 tricate one, or they consider that the 
 question is not really solved, then they 
 have the right of appeal, and it is this 
 court of appeal which I have been attend- 
 ing lately. It is held in the newly-built 
 office of the minister for native affairs 
 the prettiest and most respectable-look- 
 ing public office which I have seen in 
 Maritzburg, by the way. Before the 
 erection of this modest but comfortable 
 building the court used to be held out in 
 the open air under the shade of some 
 large trees a more picturesque method 
 of doing business, certainly, but subject 
 to inconveniences on account of the 
 weather. It is altogether the most prim- 
 itive and patriarchal style of business 
 one ever saw, but all the more delightful 
 on that account. 
 
 It is inexpressibly touching to see with 
 one's own eyes the wonderfully deep 
 personal devotion and affection of the 
 Kafirs for the kindly English gentleman 
 who for thirty years and more has been 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA, 
 
 43 
 
 their real ruler and their wise and judi- 
 cious friend. Not a friend to pamper 
 their vices and give way to their great 
 fault of idleness, but a true friend to pro- 
 tect their interests, and yet to labor inces- 
 santly for their social advancement and 
 for their admission into the great field 
 of civilized workers. The Kafirs know 
 little and care less for all the imposing 
 and elaborate machinery of British rule ; 
 the queen on her throne is but a fair and 
 distant dream-woman to them ; Sir Gar- 
 net himself, that great inkosi, was as 
 nobody in their eyes compared to their 
 own chieftain, their king of hearts, the 
 one white man to whom of their own 
 free will and accord they give the royal 
 salute whenever they see him. I have 
 stood in magnificent halls and seen king 
 and kaiser pass through crowds of bow- 
 ing courtiers, but I never saw anything 
 which impressed me so strongly as the 
 simultaneous springing to the feet, the 
 loud shout of Bayete ! given with the 
 right hand upraised (a higher form of 
 salutation than Inkosi ! and only accord- 
 ed to Kafir royalty), the look of love 
 and rapture and satisfied expectation in 
 all those keen black faces, as the min- 
 ister, quite unattended, without pomp or 
 circumstance of any sort or kind, quiet- 
 ly walked into the large room and sat 
 himself down at his desk with some pa- 
 pers before him. There was no clerk, 
 no official of any sort : no one stood be- 
 tween the people and the fountain of 
 justice. The extraordinary simplicity 
 of the trial which commenced was only 
 to be equaled by the decorum and dig- 
 nity with which it was conducted. First 
 of all, everybody sat down upon the floor, 
 the plaintiff and defendant amicably side 
 by side opposite to the minister's desk, 
 and the other natives, about a hundred 
 in number, squatted in various groups. 
 Then, as there was evidently a slight 
 feeling of surprise at my sitting myself 
 down in the only other chair they prob- 
 ably considered me a new - fashioned 
 clerk the minister explained that I was 
 the wife of another inkosi, and that I 
 wanted to see and hear how Kafirmen 
 stated their case when anything went 
 wrong with their affairs. This explana- 
 
 tion was perfectly satisfactory to all pai- 
 ties, and they regarded me no more, but 
 immediately set to work on the subject 
 in hand. A sort of precis of each case 
 had been previously prepared from the 
 magistrate's report for Mr. S 's in- 
 formation by his clerk, and these docu- 
 ments greatly helped me to understand 
 what was going on. No language can 
 be more beautiful to listen to than either 
 the Kafir or Zulu tongue : it is soft and liq- 
 uid as Italian, with just the same gentle 
 accentuation on the penultimate and an- 
 tepenultimate syllables. The clicks which 
 are made with the tongue every now and 
 then, and are part of the language, give 
 it a very quaint sound, and the proper 
 names are excessively harmonious. 
 
 In the first cause which was taken the 
 plaintiff, as I said before, was not quite 
 satisfied with the decision of his own 
 local magistrate, and had therefore come 
 here to restate his case. The story was 
 slightly complicated by the plaintiff hav- 
 ing two distinct names by which he had 
 been known at different times of his life. 
 "Tevula," he averred, was the name of 
 his boyhood, and the other, " Mazumba," 
 the name of his manhood. The natives 
 have an unconquerable aversion to giv- 
 ing their real names, and will offer half 
 a dozen different aliases, making it very 
 difficult to trace them if they are "want- 
 ed," and still more difficult to get at the 
 rights of any story they may have to tell. 
 However, if they are ever frank and 
 open to anybody, it is to their own min- 
 ister, who speaks their language as well 
 as they do themselves, and who fully 
 understands their mode of reasoning and 
 their habits of mind. 
 
 Tevula told his story extremely well, 
 I must say quietly, but earnestly, and 
 with the most perfectly respectful though 
 manly bearing. He sometimes used 
 graceful and natural gesticulation, but 
 not a bit more than was needed to give 
 emphasis to his oratory. He was a 
 strongly-built, tall man, about thirty-five 
 years of age, dressed in a soldier's great- 
 coat for it was a damp and drizzling 
 day had bare legs and feet, and wore 
 nothing on his head except the curious 
 ring into which the men weave their hair. 
 
44 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 So soon as a youth is considered old 
 enough to assume the duties and re- 
 sponsibilities of manhood he begins to 
 weave his short crisp hair over a ring of 
 grass which exactly fits the head, keep- 
 ing the woolly hair in its place by means 
 of wax. - In time the hair grows perfect- 
 ly smooth and shining and regular over 
 this firm foundation, and the effect is as 
 though it were a ring of jet or polished 
 ebony worn round the brows. Different 
 tribes slightly vary the size and form of 
 the ring ; and in this case it was easy 
 to see that the defendant belonged to a 
 different tribe, for his ring was half the 
 size, and worn at the summit of a cone 
 of combed-back hair which was as thick 
 and close as a cap, and indeed looked 
 very like a grizzled fez. Anybody in 
 court may ask any questions he pleases, 
 and in fact what we should call "cross- 
 examine" a witness, but no one did 
 so whilst I was present. Every one lis- 
 tened attentively, giving a grunt of in- 
 terest whenever Tevula made a point; 
 and this manifestation and sympathy al- 
 ways seemed to gratify him immensely. 
 But it was plain that, whatever might be 
 the decision of the minister, who listen- 
 ed closely to every word, asking now and 
 then a short question which evidently 
 hit some logical nail right on the head 
 they would abide by it, and be satisfied 
 that it was the fairest and most equitable 
 solution of the subject. 
 
 Here is a resume of the first case, and 
 it is a fair sample of the intricacies of a 
 Kafir lawsuit: Our friend Tevula pos- 
 sesses an aged relative, a certain aunt, 
 called Mamusa, who at the present time 
 appears to be in her dotage, and conse- 
 quently her evidence is of very little 
 value. But once upon a time long, 
 long ago Mamusa was young and gen- 
 erous: M-amusa had cows, and s\\zgave 
 or lent there was the difficulty a cou- 
 ple of heifers to the defendant, whose 
 name I can't possibly spell on account 
 of the clicks. Nobody denies that of her 
 own free will these heifers had been be- 
 stowed by Mamusa on the withered-look- 
 ing little old man squatting opposite, but 
 the question is, Were they a loan or a 
 gift ? For many years nothing was done ! 
 
 about these heifers, but one fine day Te- 
 vula gets wind of the story, is immedi- 
 ately seized with a fit of affection for his 
 aged relative, and takes her to live in his 
 kraal, proclaiming himself her protector 
 and heir. So far so good : all this was 
 in accordance with Kafir custom, and 
 the narration of this part of the story was 
 received with grunts of asseveration and 
 approval by the audience. Indeed, Ka- 
 firs are as a rule to be depended upon, 
 and their minds, though full of odd prej- 
 udices and quirks, have a natural bias 
 toward truth. Two or three years ago 
 Tevula began by claiming, as heir-at- 
 law, though the old woman still lives, 
 twenty cows from the defendant as the 
 increase of these heifers : now he de- 
 mands between thirty and forty. When 
 asked why he only claimed twenty, as 
 nobody denies that the produce of the 
 heifers has increased to double that num- 
 ber, he says naively, but without hesita- 
 tion, that there is a fee to be paid of a 
 shilling a head on such a claim if estab- 
 lished, and that he only had twenty shil- 
 lings in the world ; so, as he remarked 
 with a knowing twinkle in his eye, "What 
 was the use of my claiming more cows 
 than I had money to pay the fee for ?" 
 But times have improved with Tevula 
 since then, and he is now in a position 
 to claim" the poor defendant's whole herd, 
 though he generously says he will not in- 
 sist on his refunding those cows which 
 do not resemble the original heifers, and 
 are not, as they were, dun and red and 
 white. This sounded magnanimous, and 
 met with grunts of approval until the 
 blear-eyed defendant remarked, hope- 
 lessly, "They are all of those colors," 
 which changed the sympathies of the 
 audience once more. Tevula saw this 
 at a glance, and hastened to improve 
 his position by narrating an anecdote. 
 No words of mine could reproduce the 
 dramatic talent that man displayed in 
 his narration. I did not understand a 
 syllable of his language, and yet I could 
 gather from his gestures, his intonation, 
 and above all from the expression of his 
 hearers' faces, the sort of story he was 
 telling them. After he had finished, Mr. 
 S turned to me and briefly trans- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 45 
 
 lated the episode with which Tevula had 
 sought to rivet the attention and sym- 
 pathy of the court. Tevula's tale, much 
 condensed, was this : Years ago, when 
 his attention had first been directed to 
 the matter, he went with the defendant 
 out on the veldt to look at the herd. No 
 sooner did the cattle see them approach- 
 ing than a beautiful little dun-colored 
 heifer, the exact counterpart of her 
 grandmother ( Mamusa's cow), left the 
 others and ran up to him, Tevula, lowing 
 and rubbing her head against his shoul- | 
 der, and following him all about like a 
 dog. In vain did her reputed owner try 
 to drive her away : she persisted in fol- 
 lowing Tevula all the way back to his 
 kraal, right up to the entrance of his hut. 
 " I was her master, and the inkomokazi 
 knew it," cried Tevula triumphantly, 
 looking round at the defendant with a 
 knowing nod, as much as to say, " Beat 
 that, if you can !" Not knowing what 
 answer to make, the defendant took his 
 snuff-box out of his left ear and solaced 
 himself with three or four huge pinches. 
 I started the hypothesis that Mamusa 
 might once have had a tcndresse for the 
 old gentleman, and might have bestow- 
 ed these cows upon him as a love-gift ; 
 but this idea was scouted, even by the 
 defendant, who said gravely, " Kafir wo- 
 men don't buy lovers or husbands : we 
 buy the wife we want." A Kafir girl is 
 exceedingly proud of being bought, and 
 the more she costs the prouder she is. 
 She pities English women, whose bride- 
 grooms expect to receive money instead 
 of paying it, and considers a dowry as a 
 most humiliating arrangement. 
 
 I wish I could tell you how Mamusa's 
 cows have finally been disposed of, but, 
 although it has occupied three days, the 
 case is by no means over yet. I envy 
 
 and admire Mr. S 's untiring patience 
 
 and unfailing good-temper, but it is just 
 these qualities which make his Kafir 
 subjects (for they really consider him as 
 
 their ruler) so certain that their affairs 
 will not be neglected or their interests 
 suffer in his hands. 
 
 Whilst I was listening to Tevula's or- 
 atory my eyes and my mind sometimes 
 wandered to the eager and silent audi- 
 ence, and I amused myself by studying 
 their strange head-dresses. In most in- 
 stances the men wore their hair in the 
 woven rings to which I have alluded, 
 but there were several young men pres- 
 ent who indulged in purely fancy head- 
 dresses. One stalwart youth had got 
 hold of the round cardboard lid of a col- 
 lar-box, to which he had affixed two bits 
 of string, and tied it firmly but jauntily 
 on one side of his head. Another lad 
 had invented a most extraordinary dec- 
 oration for his wool - covered pate, and 
 one which it is exceedingly difficult to 
 describe in delicate language. He had 
 procured the intestines of some small 
 animal, a lamb or a kid, and had cleaned 
 and scraped them and'tied them tightly, 
 at intervals of an inch or two, with string. 
 This series of small clear bladders he had 
 then inflated, and arranged them in a 
 sort of bouquet on the top of his head, 
 skewering tufts of his crisp hair between, 
 so that the effect resembled a bunch of 
 bubbles, if there could be such a thing. 
 Another very favorite adornment for the 
 head consisted of a strip of gay cloth or 
 ribbon, or of even a few bright threads, 
 bound tightly like a fillet across the brows 
 and confining a tuft of feathers over one , 
 ear ; but I suspect all these fanciful ar- 
 rangements were only worn by the gilded 
 youth of a lower class, because I noticed 
 that the chieftains and indunas, or head- 
 men of the villages, never wore such 
 frivolities. They wore indeed numerous 
 slender rings of brass or silver wire on 
 their straight, shapely legs, and also 
 necklaces of lions' or tigers' claws and 
 teeth round their throats, but these were 
 trophies of the chase as well as personal 
 ornaments. 
 
MARITZBURG, February 10, 1876. 
 
 IN the South African calendar this is 
 set down as the first of the autumnal 
 months, but the half dozen hours about 
 mid-day are still quite as close and op- 
 pressive as any we have had. I am, 
 however, bound to say that the nights 
 at all events, up here are cooler, and I 
 begin even to think of a light shawl for 
 my solitary walks in the verandah just 
 before bedtime. When the moon shines 
 these walks are pleasant enough, but 
 when only the "common people of the 
 skies" are trying to filter down their 
 feebler light through the misty atmo- 
 sphere, I have a lurking fear and dis- 
 trust of the reptiles and bugs who may 
 also have a fancy for promenading at 
 the same time and in the same place. 
 I say nothing of bats, frogs and toads, 
 mantis or even huge moths : to these 
 we are quite accustomed. But although 
 I have never seen a live snake in this 
 country myself,, still one hears such un- 
 pleasant stories about them that it is just 
 as well to what the Scotch call " mak sic- 
 car" with a candle before beginning a 
 constitutional in the dark. 
 
 It is not a week ago since a lady of 
 my acquaintance, being surprised at her 
 little dog's refusal to follow her into her 
 bedroom one night, instituted a search 
 for the reason of the poor little crea- 
 ture's terror and dismay, and discover- 
 ed a snake coiled up under her chest of 
 drawers. At this moment, too, the local 
 papers are full of recipes for the preven- 
 tion and cure of snake-bites, public at- 
 tention being much attracted to the sub- 
 ject on account of an Englishman hav- 
 ing been bitten by a black "mamba" 
 (a very venomous adder) a short time 
 since, and having died of the wound in a 
 few hours. In his case, poor man ! there 
 does not seem to have been a chance 
 from the first, for he was obliged to walk 
 some distance to the nearest house, and 
 as they had no proper remedies there, 
 46 
 
 he had to be taken on a farther journey 
 of some miles to a hospital. All this ex- 
 ercise and motion caused the poison to 
 circulate freely through the veins, and 
 was the worst possible thing for him. 
 The doctors here seem agreed that the 
 treatment of ammonia and brandy is the 
 safest, and many instances are adduced 
 to show how successful it has been, though 
 one party of practitioners admits the am- 
 monia, but denies the brandy. On the 
 other hand, one hears of a child bitten 
 by a snake and swallowing half a large 
 bottle of raw brandy in half an hour 
 without its head being at all affected, 
 and, what is more, recovering from the 
 bite and living happy ever after. I keep 
 quantities of both remedies close at hand, 
 for three or four venomous snakes have 
 been killed within a dozen yards of the 
 house, and little G is perpetually ex- 
 ploring the long grass all around or hunt- 
 ing for a stray cricket-ball or a pegtop in 
 one of those beautiful fern-filled ditches 
 whose tangle of creepers and plumy ferns 
 is exactly the favorite haunt of snakes. 
 As yet he has brought back from these 
 forbidden raids nothing more than a few 
 ticks and millions of burs. 
 
 As for the ticks, I am getting over my 
 horror at having to dislodge them from 
 among the baby's soft curls by means of 
 
 a sharp needle, and even G only 
 
 shouts with laughter at discovering a 
 great swollen monster hanging on by its 
 forceps to his leg. They torment the 
 poor horses and dogs dreadfully ; and 
 if the said horses were not the very qui- 
 etest, meekest, most underbred and de- 
 pressed animals in the world, we should 
 certainly hear of more accidents. As it 
 is, they confine their efforts to get rid of 
 their tormentors to rubbing all the hair 
 off their tails and sides in patches against 
 the stable walls or the trunk of a tree. 
 Indeed, the clever way G 's misera- 
 ble little Basuto pony actually climbs in- 
 side a good-sized bush, and sways him- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 47 
 
 self about in it with his legs off the ground 
 until the whole thing comes with a crash 
 to the ground, is edifying to behold to 
 every one except the owner of the tree. 
 Tom, the Kafir boy, tried hard to per- 
 suade me the other day that the pony 
 was to blame for the destruction of a 
 peach tree, but as the only broken-down 
 branches were those which had been 
 laden with fruit, I am inclined to acquit 
 the pony. Carbolic soap is an excellent 
 thing to wash both dogs and horses with, 
 as it not only keeps away flies and ticks 
 from the skin, which is constantly rubbed 
 off by incessant scratching, but helps to 
 heal the tendency to a sore place. In- 
 deed, nothing frightened me so much as 
 what I heard when I first arrived about 
 Natal sores and Natal boils. Everybody 
 told me that ever so slight a cut or abra- 
 sion went on slowly festering, and that 
 sores on children's faces were quite com- 
 mon. This sounded very dreadful, but 
 I am beginning to hope it was an exag- 
 geration, for whenever G cuts or 
 
 knocks himself (which is every day or 
 so), or scratches an insect's bite into a 
 bad place, I wash the part with a little 
 carbolic soap (there are two sorts one 
 for animals and a more refined prepara- 
 tion for the human skin), and it is quite 
 well the next day. We have all had a 
 threatening of those horrid boils, but they 
 have passed off. 
 
 In town the mosquitoes are plentiful 
 and lively, devoting their attentions 
 chiefly to new-comers, but up here I 
 write as though we were five thousand 
 feet instead of only fifty above Maritz- 
 burg it is rare to see one. I think " fillies" 
 are more in our line, and that in spite 
 of every floor in the house being scrub- 
 bed daily with strong soda and water. 
 "Fillies," you must know, is our black 
 groom's (Charlie's) way of pronouncing 
 fleas, and I find it ever so much prettier. 
 Charlie and I are having a daily discus- 
 sion just now touching sundry moneys 
 he expended during my week's absence 
 at D'Urban for the kittens' food. Charlie 
 calls them the "lu" catties," and declares 
 that the two small animals consumed 
 three shillings and ninepence worth of 
 meat in a week I laughingly say, " But, 
 
 Charlie, that would be nearly nine 
 pounds of meat in six days, and they 
 couldn't eat that, you know." Charlie 
 grins and shows all his beautiful even 
 white teeth : then he bashfully turns his 
 head aside and says, "I doan know, ma' : 
 I buy six' meat dree time." " Very well, 
 Charlie, that would be one shilling and 
 sixpence." "I doan know, ma';" and 
 we've not got any further than that yet. 
 
 But G and I are picking up many 
 
 words of Kafir, and it is quite mortifying 
 to see how much more easily the little 
 monkey learns than I do. I forget my 
 phrases or confuse them, whereas when 
 he learns two or three sentences he ap- 
 pears to remember them always. It is a 
 very melodious and beautiful language, 
 and, except for the clicks, not very dif- 
 ficult to learn. Almost everybody here 
 speaks it a little, and it is the first thing 
 necessary for a new-comer to endeavor 
 to acquire ; only, unfortunately, there are 
 no teachers, as in India, and consequent- 
 ly you pick up a wretched, debased kind 
 of patois, interlarded with Dutch phrases. 
 Indeed, I am assured there are two words, 
 el has hi (" the horse "), of unmistakable 
 Moorish origin, though no one knows 
 how they got into the language. Many 
 of the Kafirs about town speak a little 
 English, and they are exceedingly sharp, 
 when they choose, about understanding 
 what is meant, even if they do not quite 
 catch the meaning of the words used. 
 There is one genius of my acquaintance, 
 called "Sixpence," who is not only a 
 capital cook, but an accomplished Eng- 
 lish scholar, having spent some months 
 in England. Generally, to Cape Town 
 and back is the extent of their journey- 
 ings, for they are a home-loving people ; 
 but Sixpence went to England with his 
 master, and brought back a shivering 
 recollection of an English winter and a 
 deep-rooted amazement at the boys of 
 the Shoe Brigade, who wanted to clean 
 his boots. That astonished him more 
 than anything else, he says. 
 
 The Kafirs are very fond of attending 
 their own schools and church services, 
 of which there are several in the town ; 
 and I find one of my greatest difficulties 
 in living out here consists in getting Ka- 
 
4 8 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 firs to come out of town, for by doing, so 
 they miss their regular attendance at 
 chapel and school. A few Sundays ago 
 I went to one of these Kafir schools, and 
 was much struck by the intently -ab- 
 sorbed air of the pupils, almost all of 
 whom were youths about twenty years 
 of age. They were learning to read the 
 Bible in Kafir during my visit, sitting in 
 couples, and helping each other on with 
 immense diligence and earnestness. No 
 looking about, no wandering, inattentive 
 glances, did I see. I might as well have 
 " had the receipt of fern-seed and walk- 
 ed invisible" for all the attention I ex- 
 cited. Presently the pupil - teacher, a 
 young black man, who had charge of 
 this class, asked me if I would like to 
 hear them sing a hymn, and on my as- 
 senting he read out a verse of " Hold 
 the Fort," and they all stood up and 
 sang it, or rather its Kafir translation, 
 lustily and with good courage, though 
 without much tune. The chorus was 
 especially fine, the words " Inkanye kan- 
 ye " ringing through the room with great 
 fervor. This is not a literal translation 
 of the words "Hold the Fort," but it is 
 difficult, as the teacher explained to me, 
 for the translator to avail himself of the 
 usual word for "hold," as it conveys 
 more the idea of "take hold," "seize," 
 and the young Kafir missionary thor- 
 oughly understood all the nicety of the 
 idiom. There was another class for 
 women and children, but it was a small 
 one. Certainly, the young men seemed 
 much in earnest, and the rapt expres- 
 sion of their faces was most striking, 
 especially during the short prayer which 
 followed the hymn and ended the school 
 for the afternoon. 
 
 I have had constantly impressed upon 
 my mind since my arrival the advice not 
 to take Christian Kafirs into my service, 
 but I am at a loss to know in what way 
 the prejudice against them can have 
 arisen. "Take a Kafir green from his 
 kraal if you wish to have a good servant," 
 is what every one tells me. It so hap- 
 pens that we have two of each two 
 Christians and two heathens about the 
 place, and there is no doubt whatever 
 which is the best. Indeed, I have some- 
 
 times conversations with the one who 
 speaks English, and I can assure you we 
 might all learn from him with advantage. 
 His simple creed is just what came from 
 the Saviour's lips two thousand years 
 ago, and comprises His teaching of the 
 whole duty of man to love God, the 
 great "En' Kos," and his neighbor as 
 himself. He speaks always with real 
 delight of his privileges, and is very anx- 
 ious to go to Cape Town to attend some 
 school there of which he talks a great 
 deal, and where he says he should learn 
 to read the Bible in English. At present 
 he is spelling it out with great difficulty 
 in Kafir. This man often talks to me 
 in the most respectful and civil manner 
 imaginable about the customs of his 
 tribe, and he constantly alludes to the 
 narrow escape he had of being murder- 
 ed directly after his birth for the crime 
 of being a twin. His people have a fix- 
 ed belief that unless one of a pair of 
 babies be killed at once, either the fa- 
 ther or mother will die within -the year; 
 and they argue that as in any case one 
 child will be sure to die in its infancy, 
 twins being proverbially difficult to rear, 
 it is only both kind and natural to kill 
 the weakly one at once. This young 
 man is very small and quiet and gentle, 
 with an ugly face, but a sweet, intelligent 
 expression and a very nice manner. I 
 find him and the other Christian in our 
 employment very trustworthy and re- 
 liable. If they tell me anything which 
 has occurred, I know I can believe their 
 version of it, and they are absolutely hon- 
 est. Now, the other lads have very loose 
 ideas on the subject of sugar, and make 
 shifty excuses for everything, from the 
 cat breaking a heavy stone filter up to 
 half the marketing being dropped on the 
 road. 
 
 I don't think I have made it sufficient- 
 ly clear that besides the Sunday-schools 
 and services I have mentioned there 
 are night-schools every evening in the 
 week, which are fully attended by Kafir 
 servants, and where they are first taught 
 to read their own language, which is an 
 enormous difficulty to them. They al- 
 ways tell me it is so much easier to learn 
 to read English than Kafir ; and if one 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 49 
 
 studies the two languages, it is plain to 
 see how much simpler the new tongue 
 must appear to a learner than the intri- 
 cate construction, the varying patois and 
 the necessarily phonetic spelling of a lan- 
 guage compounded of so many dialects 
 as the Zulu-Kafir. 
 
 FEBRUARY 12. 
 
 In some respects I consider this cli- 
 mate has been rather over-praised. Of 
 course it is a great deal a very great 
 deal better than our English one, but 
 that, after all, is not saying much in its 
 praise. Then we must remember that 
 in England we have the fear and dread 
 of the climate ever before our eyes, and 
 consequently are always, so to speak, on 
 our guard against it. Here, and in other 
 places where civilization is in its infancy, 
 we are at the mercy of dust and sun, 
 wind and rain, and all the eccentric ele- 
 ments which go to make up weather. 
 Consequently, when the balance of com- 
 fort and convenience has to be struck, it 
 is surprising how small an advantage a 
 really better climate gives when you take 
 away watering-carts and shady streets 
 for hot weather, and sheltered railway- 
 stations and hansom cabs for wet weath- 
 er, and roads and servants and civility 
 and general convenience everywhere. 
 This particular climate is both depress- 
 ing and trying in spite of the sunny 
 skies we are ever boasting about, be- 
 cause it has a strong tinge of the tropical 
 element in it; and yet people live in 
 much the same kind of houses (only that 
 they are very small), and wear much the 
 same sort of clothes (only that they are 
 very ugly), and lead much the same sort 
 of lives (only that it is a thousand times 
 duller than the dullest country village), 
 as they do in England. Some small 
 concession is made to the thermometer 
 in the matter of puggeries and matted 
 floors, but even then carpets are used 
 wherever it is practicable, because this 
 matting never looks clean and nice after 
 the first week it is put down. All the 
 houses are built on the ground floor, with 
 the utmost economy of building material 
 and labor, and consequently there are 
 no passages : every room is, in fact, a 
 4 
 
 passage and leads to its neighbor. So 
 the perpetually dirty bare feet, or, still 
 worse, boots fresh from the mud or dust 
 of the streets, soon wear out the mat- 
 ting. Few houses are at all prettily dec- 
 orated or furnished, partly from the dif- 
 ficulty of procuring anything pretty here, 
 the cost and risk of its carriage up from 
 D'Urban if you send to England for it, 
 and partly from the want of servants 
 accustomed to anything but the roughest 
 and coarsest articles of household use. 
 A lady soon begins to take her drawing- 
 room ornaments en guignon if she has 
 to dust them herself every day in a very 
 dusty climate. I speak feelingly and 
 with authority, for that is my case at 
 this moment, and applies to every other 
 part of the house as well. 
 
 I must say I like Kafir servants in 
 some respects. They require, I acknow- 
 ledge, constant supervision ; they require 
 to be told to do the same thing over and 
 over again every day ; and, what is more, 
 besides telling, you have to stand by and 
 see that they do the thing. They are 
 also very slow. But still, with all these 
 disadvantages, they are far better than 
 the generality of European servants out 
 here, who make their luckless employ- 
 ers' lives a burden to them by reason of 
 their tempers and caprices. It is much 
 better, I am convinced, to face the evil 
 boldly and to make up one's mind to 
 have none but Kafir servants. Of course 
 one immediately turns into a sort of over- 
 seer and upper servant one's self; but 
 at all events you feel master or mistress 
 of your own house, and you have faith- 
 ful and good-tempered domestics, who do 
 their best, however awkwardly, to please 
 you. Where there are children, then in- 
 deed a good English nurse is a great 
 boon ; and in this one respect I am for- 
 tunate. Kafirs are also much easier to 
 manage when the orders come direct 
 from the master or mistress, and they 
 work far more willingly for them than 
 for white servants. Tom, the nurse-boy, 
 confided to me yesterday that he hoped 
 to stop in my employment for forty moons. 
 After that space of time he considered 
 that he should be in a position to buy 
 plenty of wives, who would work for him 
 
5 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 and support him for the rest of his life. 
 But how Tom or Jack, or any of the 
 boys in fact, are to save money I know 
 not, for every shilling of their wages, ex- 
 cept a small margin for coarse snuff, goes 
 to their parents, who fleece them without 
 mercy. If they are fined for breakages 
 or misconduct (the only punishment a 
 Kafir cares for), they have to account for 
 the deficient money to the stern parents ; 
 and both Tom and Jack went through a 
 most graphic pantomime with a stick of 
 the consequences to themselves, adding 
 that their father said both the beating 
 from him and the fine from us served 
 them right for their carelessness. It 
 seemed so hard they should suffer both 
 ways, and they were so good-tempered 
 and uncomplaining about it, that I fear 
 I shall find it very difficult to stop any 
 threepenny pieces out of their wages in 
 future. A Kafir servant usually gets one 
 pound a month, his clothes and food. 
 The former consists of a shirt and short 
 trousers of coarse check cotton, a sol- 
 dier's old great-coat for winter, and plen- 
 ty of mealy-meal for "scoff." ' If he is a 
 good servant and worth making comfort- 
 able, you give him a trifle every week to 
 buy meat. Kafirs are very fond of going 
 to their kraals, and you have to make 
 them sign an agreement to remain with 
 you so many months, generally six. By 
 the time you have just taught them, with 
 infinite pains and trouble, how to do 
 their work, they depart, and you have to 
 begin it all over again. 
 
 I frequently see the chiefs or indunas 
 of chiefs passing here on their way to 
 some kraals which lie just over the hills. 
 These kraals consist of half a dozen or 
 more large huts, exactly like so many 
 huge beehives, on the slope of a hill. 
 There is a rude attempt at sod-fencing 
 round them ; a few head of cattle graze 
 in the neighborhood ; lower down, the 
 hillside is roughly scratched by the wo- 
 men with crooked hoes to form a mealy- 
 ground. (Cows and mealies are all they 
 require except snuff or tobacco, which 
 they smoke out of a cow's horn.) They 
 seem a very gay and cheerful people, to 
 judge by the laughter and jests I hear 
 from the groups returning to these kraals 
 
 every day by the road just outside our 
 fence. Sometimes one of the party car- 
 ries an umbrella ; and I assure you the 
 effect of a tall, stalwart Kafir, clad either 
 in nothing at all or else in a sack, care- 
 fully guarding his bare head with a tat- 
 tered Gamp, is very ridiculous. Often 
 some one walks along playing upon a 
 rude pipe, whilst the others jog before 
 and after him, laughing and capering 
 like boys let loose from school, and all 
 chattering loudly. You never meet a 
 man carrying a burden unless he is a 
 white settler's servant. When a chief 
 or the induna of a kraal passes this way, 
 I see him, clad in a motley garb of red 
 regimentals with his bare "ringed" head, 
 riding a sorry nag, only the point of his 
 great toe resting in his stirrup. He is 
 followed closely and with great empresse- 
 ment by his " tail," all " ringed" men also 
 that is, men of some substance and 
 weight in the community. They carry 
 bundles of sticks, and keep up with the 
 ambling nag, and are closely followed 
 by some of his wives bearing heavy loads 
 on their heads, but stepping out bravely 
 with beautiful erect carriage, shapely bare 
 arms and legs, and some sort of coarse 
 drapery worn across their bodies, cover- 
 ing them from shoulder to knee in folds 
 which would delight an artist's eye and be 
 the despair of a sculptor's chisel. They 
 don't look either oppressed or discon- 
 tented. Happy, healthy and jolly are 
 the words by which they would be most 
 truthfully described. Still, they are lazy, 
 and slow to appreciate any benefit from 
 civilization except the money, but then 
 savages always seem to me as keen and 
 sordid about money as the most civilized 
 mercantile community anywhere. 
 
 FEBRUARY 14. 
 
 I am often asked by people who are 
 thinking of coming here, or who want to 
 send presents to friends here, what to 
 bring or send. Of course it is difficult 
 to say, because my experience is limit- 
 ed and confined to one spot at present : 
 therefore I give my opinion very guarded- 
 ly, and acknowledge it is derived in great 
 part from the experience of others who 
 have been here a long time. Amongst 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 other wraps, I brought a sealskin jacket 
 and muff which I happened to have. 
 These, I am assured, will be absolutely 
 useless, and already they are a great 
 anxiety to me on account of the swarms 
 of fish-tail moths which I see scuttling 
 about in every direction if I move a box 
 or look behind a picture. In fact, there 
 are destructive moths everywhere, and 
 every drawer is redolent of camphor. 
 The only things I can venture to recom- 
 mend as necessaries are things which no 
 one advised me to bring, and which were 
 only random shots. One was a light 
 waterproof ulster, and the other was a 
 lot of those outside blinds for windows 
 which come, I believe, from Japan, and 
 are made of grass green, painted with 
 gay figures. I picked up these latter by 
 the merest accident at the Baker-street 
 bazaar for a few shillings : they are the 
 comfort of my life, keeping out glare and 
 dust in the day and moths and insects of 
 all kinds at night. As for the waterproof, 
 I do not know what I should have done 
 
 without it ; and little G 's has also 
 
 been most useful. It is the necessary of 
 necessaries here a real, good substan- 
 tial waterproof. A man cannot do bet- 
 ter than get a regular military water- 
 proof which will cover him from chin to 
 heel on horseback ; and even waterproof 
 hats and caps are a comfort in this trea- 
 cherous summer season, 'where a storm 
 bursts over your head out of a blue dome 
 of sky, and drenches you even whilst the 
 sun is shining brightly. 
 
 A worse climate and country for clothes 
 of every kind and description cannot be 
 imagined. When I first arrived I thought 
 I had never seen such ugly toilettes in 
 all my life ; and I should have been less 
 than woman (or more which is it ?) if I 
 had not derived some secret satisfaction 
 from the possession of at least prettier 
 garments. What I was vain of in my 
 secret heart was my store of cotton 
 gowns. One can't very well wear cot- 
 ton gowns in London ; and, as I am par- 
 ticularly fond of them, I indemnify my- 
 self for going abroad by rushing wildly 
 into extensive purchases in cambrics and 
 print dresses. They are so pretty and so 
 cheap, and when charmingly made, as 
 
 mine were (alas, they are already things 
 of the past !), nothing can be so satisfac- 
 tory in the way of summer country garb. 
 Well, it has been precisely in the matter 
 of cotton gowns that I have been punish- 
 ed for my vanity. For a day or two each 
 gown in turn looked charming. Then 
 came a flounce or bordering of bright 
 red earth on the lower skirt and a gen- 
 eral impression of red dust and dirt all 
 over it. That was after a drive into Ma- 
 ritzburg along a road ploughed up by 
 ox-wagons. Still, I felt no uneasiness. 
 What is a cotton gown made for if not to 
 be washed ? Away it goes to the wash ! 
 What is this limp, discolored rag which 
 returns to me iron-moulded, blued until 
 it is nearly black, rough-dried, starched 
 in patches, with the fringe of red earth 
 only more firmly fixed than before ? Be- 
 hold my favorite ivory cotton ! My white 
 gowns are even in a worse plight, for 
 there are no two yards of them the same, 
 and the grotesque mixture of extreme 
 yellowness, extreme blueness and a per- 
 vading tinge of the red mud they have 
 been washed in renders them a piteous 
 example of misplaced confidence. Other 
 things fare rather better not much but 
 my poor gowns are only hopeless wrecks, 
 and I am reduced to some old yachting 
 dresses of ticking and serge. The price 
 of washing, as this spoiling process is 
 pleasantly called, is enormous, and I ex- 
 haust my faculties in devising more eco- 
 nomical arrangements. We can't wash 
 at home, for the simple reason that we 
 have no water, no proper appliances of 
 any sort, and to build and buy such 
 would cost a small fortune. But a tall, 
 white-aproned Kafir, with a badge upon 
 his arm, comes now at daylight every 
 Monday morning and takes away a huge 
 sackful of linen, which is placed, with 
 sundry pieces of soap and blue in its 
 mouth, all ready for him. He brings it 
 back in the afternoon full of clean and 
 dry linen, for which he receives three 
 shillings and sixpence. But this is only 
 the first stage. The things to be starched 
 have to be sorted and sent to one wo- 
 man, and those to be mangled to anoth- 
 er, and both lots have to be fetched home 
 again by Tom and Jack. (I have for- 
 
5 2 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 gotten to tell you that Jack's real name, 
 elicited with great difficulty, as there is a 
 click somewhere in it, is "Umpashong- 
 wana," whilst the pickle Tom is known 
 among his own people as " Umkabang- 
 wana." You will admit that our substi- 
 tutes for these five-syllabled appellations 
 are easier to pronounce in a hurry. Jack 
 is a favorite name : I know half a dozen 
 black Jacks myself.) To return, however, 
 to the washing. I spend my time in this 
 uncertain weather watching the clouds 
 on the days when the clothes are to come 
 home, for it would be altogether too great 
 a trial if one's starched garments, borne 
 aloft on Jack's head, were to be caught 
 in a thunder-shower. If the washerwo- 
 man takes pains with anything, it is with 
 gentlemen's shirts, though even then she 
 insists on ironing the collars into strange 
 and fearful shapes. 
 
 Let not men think, however, that they 
 have it all their own way in the matter 
 of clothes. White jackets and trousers 
 are commonly worn here in summer, and 
 it is very soothing, I am told, to try to 
 put them on in a hurry when the arms 
 and legs are firmly glued together by 
 several pounds of starch. Then as to 
 boots and shoes : they get so mildewed 
 if laid aside for even a few days as to be 
 absolutely offensive ; and these, with hats, 
 wear out at the most astonishing rate. 
 The sun and dust and rain finish up the 
 hats in less than no time. 
 
 But I have not done with my clothes 
 yet. A lady must keep a warm dress 
 and jacket close at hand all through 
 the most broiling summer weather, for a 
 couple of hours will bring the thermom- 
 eter down ten or twenty degrees, and 
 I have often been gasping in a white 
 dressing-gown at noon and shivering 
 in a serge dress at three o'clock on the 
 same day. I am making up my mind that 
 serge and ticking are likely to be the 
 most useful material for dresses, and, as 
 one must have something very cool for 
 these burning months, tussore or foulard, 
 which get themselves better washed than 
 my poor dear cottons. Silks are next to 
 useless too smart, too hot, too entirely 
 out of place in such a life as this, except 
 perhaps one or two of tried principles, 
 
 which won't spot or fade or misbehave 
 themselves in any way. One goes out 
 of a warm, dry afternoon with a tulle 
 veil on to keep off the flies, or a feather 
 in one's hat, and returns with the one a 
 limp, wet rag and the other quite out of 
 curl. I only wish any milliner could see 
 my feathers now ! All straight, rigidly 
 straight as a carpenter's rule, and tinged 
 with red dust besides. As for tulle or 
 crepe-lisse frilling, or any of those soft 
 pretty adjuncts to a simple toilette, they 
 are five minutes' wear no more, I sol- 
 emnly declare. 
 
 I love telling a story against myself, 
 and here is one. In spite of repeated 
 experiences of the injurious effect of al- 
 ternate damp and dust upon finery, the 
 old Eve is occasionally too strong for 
 my prudence, and I can't resist, on the 
 rare occasions which offer themselves, 
 the temptation of wearing pretty things. 
 Especially weak am I in the matter of 
 caps, and this is what befell me. Im- 
 agine a lovely, soft summer evening, 
 broad daylight, though it is half-past 
 seven (it will be dark directly, however) : 
 a dinner-party to be reached a couple of 
 miles away. The little open carriage is 
 at the door, and into this I step, swath- 
 ing my gown carefully up in a huge 
 shawl. This precaution is especially 
 necessary, for during the afternoon there 
 has been a terrific thunderstorm and a 
 sudden sharp deluge of rain. Besides a 
 swamp or two to be ploughed through as 
 best we may, there are those two miles 
 of deep red muddy road full of ruts and 
 big stones and pitfalls of all sorts. The 
 drive home in the dark will be nervous 
 work, but now in daylight let us enjoy 
 whilst we may. Of course I ought to 
 have taken my cap in a box or bag, or 
 something of the sort ; but that seemed 
 too much trouble, especially as it was so 
 small it needed to be firmly pinned on 
 in its place. It consisted of a centre 
 or crown of white crepe, a little frill of 
 the same, and a close-fitting wreath of 
 deep red feathers all round. Very neat 
 and tidy it looked as I took my last 
 glance at it whilst I hastily knotted a 
 light black lace veil over my head by 
 way of protection during my drive When 
 
LhTTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 53 
 
 I got to my destination there was no look- 
 ing-glass to be seen anywhere, no maid, 
 no anything or anybody to warn me. 
 Into the dining-room I marched in hap- 
 py unconsciousness that the extreme 
 dampness of the evening had flattened 
 the crown of my cap, and that it and its 
 frill were mere unconsidered limp rags, 
 whilst the unpretending circlet of feath- 
 ers had started into undue prominence, 
 and struck straight out like a red nimbus 
 all round my unconscious head. How 
 my fellow-guests managed to keep their 
 countenances I cannot tell. I am cer- 
 tain / never could have sat opposite to 
 any one with such an Ojibbeway Indian's 
 head-dress on without giggling. But no 
 one gave me the least hint of my mis- 
 fortune, and it only burst upon me sud- 
 denly when I returned to my own room 
 and my own glass. Still, there was a 
 ray of hope left : it might have been the 
 dampness of the drive home which had 
 worked me this woe. I rushed into 
 
 F 's dressing-room and demanded 
 
 quite fiercely whether my cap had been 
 like that all the time. 
 
 "Why, yes," F admitted; adding 
 
 by way of consolation, " In fact, it is a 
 good deal subdued now: it was very 
 wild all dinner-time. I can't say I ad- 
 mired it, but I supposed it was all right." 
 
 Did ever any one hear such shocking 
 apathy ? In answer to my reproaches 
 for not telling me, he only said, "Why, 
 what could you have done with it if you 
 had known ? Taken it off and put it in 
 your pocket, or what ?" 
 
 I don't know, but anything would have 
 been better than sitting at table with a 
 thing only fit for a May-Day sweep on 
 one's head. It makes me hot and angry 
 with myself even to think of it now. 
 
 F 's clothes could also relate some 
 
 curious experiences which they have had 
 to go through, not only at the hands of 
 his washerwoman, but at those of his 
 temporary valet, Jack (I beg his pardon, 
 Umpashongwana) the Zulu, whose zeal 
 exceeds anything one can imagine. For 
 instance, when he sets to work to brush 
 
 F 's clothes of a morning he is by no 
 
 means content to brush the cloth clothes. 
 Oh dear, no ! He brushes the socks, 
 
 I putting each carefully on his hand like a 
 glove and brushing vigorously away. As 
 they are necessarily very thin socks for 
 this hot weather, they are apt to melt 
 away entirely under the process. I say 
 nothing of his blacking the boots inside 
 as well as out, or of his laboriously scrub- 
 bing holes in a serge coat with a scrub- 
 bing-brush, for these are errors of judg- 
 ment dictated by a kindly heart. But 
 when Jack puts a saucepan on the fire 
 without any water and burns holes in it, 
 or tries whether plates and dishes can 
 support their own weight in the air with- 
 out a table beneath them, then, I con- 
 fess, my patience runs short. But Jack' 
 is so imperturbable, so perfectly and 
 genuinely astonished at the untoward 
 result of his experiments, and so grieved 
 that the inkosacasa (I have not an idea 
 how the word ought to be spelt) should 
 be vexed, that I am obliged to leave off 
 shaking my head at him, which is the 
 only way I have of expressing my dis- 
 pleasure. He keeps on saying, " Ja, oui, 
 yaas," alternately, all the time, and I 
 have to go away to laugh. 
 
 FEBRUARY 16. 
 
 I was much amused the other day at 
 receiving a letter of introduction from a 
 mutual friend in England, warmly rec- 
 ommending a newly-arrived bride and 
 bridegroom to my acquaintance, and 
 especially begging me to take pains to 
 introduce the new-comers into the "best 
 society." To appreciate the joke thor- 
 oughly you must understand that there 
 is no society here at all absolutely 
 none. We are not proud, we Maritz- 
 burgians, nor are we inhospitable, nor 
 exclusive, nor unsociable. Not a bit. 
 We are as anxious as any community 
 can be to have society or sociable ga- 
 therings, or whatever you like to call 
 the way people manage to meet togeth- 
 er ; but circumstances are altogether too 
 strong for us, and we all in turn are forced 
 to abandon the attempt in despair. First 
 of all, the weather is against us. It is 
 maddeningly uncertain, and the best-ar- 
 ranged entertainment cannot be consid- 
 ered a success if the guests have to strug- 
 gle through rain and tempest and streets 
 
54 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 ankle-deep in water and pitchy darkness 
 to assist at it. People are hardly likely 
 to make themselves pleasant at a party 
 when their return home through storm 
 and darkness is on their minds all the 
 time : at least, I know 7 cannot do so. 
 But the weather is only one of the lets 
 and hinderances to society in Natal. 
 We are all exceedingly poor, and neces- 
 sary food is very dear : luxuries are en- 
 ormously expensive, but they are gen- 
 erally not to be had at all, so one is not 
 tempted by them. Servants, particular- 
 ly cooks, are few and far between, and I 
 doubt if even any one calling himself a 
 cook could send up what would be con- 
 sidered a fairly good dish elsewhere. 
 Kafirs can be taught to do one or two 
 things pretty well, but even then they 
 could not be trusted to do them for a 
 party. In fact, if I stated that there 
 were no good servants in the ordinary 
 acceptation of the word here at all, I 
 should not be guilty of exaggeration. 
 If there are, all I can say is, I have nei- 
 ther heard of nor seen them. On the 
 contrary, I have been overwhelmed by 
 lamentations on that score in which I can 
 heartily join. Besides the want of means 
 of conveyance (for there are no cabs, and 
 very few remises] and good food and at- 
 tendance, any one wanting to entertain 
 would almost need to build a house, so 
 impossible is it to collect more than half 
 a dozen people inside an ordinary-sized 
 house here. For my part, my verandah 
 is the comfort of my life. When more 
 than four or five people at a time chance 
 to come to afternoon tea, we overflow 
 into the verandah. It runs round three 
 sides of the four rooms called a house, 
 and is at once my day-nursery, my lum- 
 ber-room, my summer-parlor, my place 
 of exercise everything, in fact. And it 
 is an incessant occupation to train the 
 creepers and wage war against the legions 
 of brilliantly-colored grasshoppers which 
 infest and devour the honeysuckles and 
 roses. Never was there such a place for 
 insects! They eat up everything in the 
 kitchen-garden, devour every leaf off my 
 peach and orange trees, scarring and 
 spoiling the fruit as well. It is no com- 
 fort whatever that they are wonderfully 
 
 beautiful creatures, striped and ringed 
 with a thousand colors in a thousand 
 various ways : one has only to see the 
 riddled appearance of every leaf and 
 flower to harden one's heart. Just now 
 they have cleared off every blossom out 
 of the garden except my zinnias, which 
 grow magnificently and make the de- 
 vastated flower-bed still gay with every 
 hue and tint a zinnia can put on sal- 
 mon-color, rose, scarlet, pink, maroon, 
 and fifty shades besides. On the veldt 
 too the flowers have passed by, but their 
 place is taken by the grasses, which are 
 all in seed. People say the grass is rank 
 and poor, and of not much account as 
 food for stock, but it has an astonishing 
 variety of beautiful seeds. In one patch 
 it is like miniature pampas-grass, only a 
 couple of inches long each seed-pod, out 
 white and fluffy. Again, there will be 
 tall stems laden with rich purple grains or 
 delicate tufts of rose-colored seed. One 
 of the prettiest, however, is like wee 
 green harebells hanging all down a tall 
 and slender stalk, and hiding within their 
 cups the seed. Unfortunately, the weeds 
 and burs seed just as freely, and there is 
 one especial torment to the garden in the 
 shape of an innocent-looking little plant 
 something like an alpine strawberry in 
 leaf and blossom, bearing a most aggra- 
 vating tuft of little black spines which 
 lose no opportunity of sticking to one's 
 petticoats in myriads. They are famil- 
 iarly known as "blackjacks," and can 
 hold their own as pests with any weed 
 of my acquaintance. 
 
 But the most beautiful tree I have seen 
 in Natal was an Acacia flamboyante. I 
 saw it at D'Urban, and I shall never for- 
 get the contrast of its vivid green, bright 
 as the spring foliage of a young oak, and 
 the crown of rich crimson flowers on its 
 topmost branches, tossing their brilliant 
 blossoms against a background of gleam- 
 ing sea and sky. It was really splendid, 
 like a bit of Italian coloring among the 
 sombre tangle of tropical verdure. It is 
 too cold up here for this glorious tree, 
 which properly belongs to a far more 
 tropical temperature than even D'Urban 
 can mount up to. 
 
 I am looking forward to next month 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 55 
 
 and the following ones to make some 
 little excursions into the country, or to 
 go "trekking," as the local expression is. 
 I hear on all sides how much that is in- 
 teresting lies a little way beyond the 
 reach of a ride, but it is difficult for the 
 mistress who is at the same time the 
 general servant of an establishment out 
 here to get away from home for even a few 
 days, especially when there is a couple 
 of small children to be left behind. No 
 
 one travels now who can possibly help 
 it, for the sudden violent rains which 
 come down nearly every afternoon swell 
 the rivers and make even the spruits im- 
 passable ; so a traveler may be detained 
 for days within a few miles of his desti- 
 nation. Now, in winter the roads will 
 be hard, and dust will be the only in- 
 convenience. At least, that is what I 
 am promised. 
 
"VX. 
 
 MARITZBURG, March 5, 1876. 
 
 I DON'T think I like a climate which 
 produces a thunderstorm every after- 
 noon. One disadvantage of this electric 
 excitement is that I hardly ever get out 
 for a walk or drive. All day it is burn- 
 ing hot : if there is a breath of air, it is 
 sultry, and adds to the oppression of the 
 atmosphere instead of refreshing it. Then 
 about midday great fleecy banks of cloud 
 begin to steal up behind the ridge of hills 
 to the south-west. Gradually they creep 
 round the horizon, stretching their sort 
 gray folds farther and farther to every 
 point of the compass, until they have 
 shrouded the dazzling blue sky and drop- 
 ped a cool, filmy veil of mist between the 
 sun's fierce, steady blaze and the baked 
 earth below. That is always my nervous 
 
 moment. F declares I am exactly 
 
 like an old hen with her chickens ; and 
 I acknowledge that I should like to cluck 
 and call everything and everybody into 
 
 shelter and safety. If little G is out 
 
 on his pony alone, as is generally the 
 case for he returns from school early in 
 the afternoon and I think of the great 
 open veldt, the rough, broken track and 
 the treacherous swamp, what wonder is 
 it that I cannot rest in-doors, but am 
 always making bareheaded expeditions 
 every five minutes to the brow of the 
 hill to see if I can discern the tiny figure 
 tearing along the open, with its floating 
 white puggery streaming behind ? The 
 pony may safely be trusted not to loiter, 
 for horse and cow, bird and beast, know 
 what that rapidly - darkening shadow 
 means, and what sudden death lurks 
 within those patches of inky clouds, from 
 which a deep and rolling murmur comes 
 from time to time. I am uneasy even if 
 
 F has not returned, for the little riv- 
 
 er^ the noisy Umsindusi, thinks nothing 
 of suddenly spreading itself far and wide 
 over its banks, turning the low -lying 
 ground into a lake for miles. 
 
 It is true that this may only last for 
 
 a few hours, or even moments, but five 
 minutes is quite enough to do a great 
 deal of mischief when a river is rising at 
 the rate of two feet a minute mischief 
 not only to human beings, but to bridges, 
 roads and drains, as well as plantations 
 and fields. Yet that tropical downpour, 
 where the clouds let loose the imprison- 
 ed moisture suddenly in solid sheets of 
 water instead of by the more slow and 
 civilized method of drops, is a relief to 
 my mind, for there are worse possibilities 
 than a wet jacket behind those lurid, 
 low -hanging vapors. There are hail- 
 storms, like one yesterday morning which 
 rattled on the red tile roof like a dis- 
 charge of musketry, and with nearly as 
 damaging an effect, for several tiles were 
 broken and tumbled down, leaving mel- 
 ancholy gaps, like missing teeth, in the 
 eaves. There are thunderbolts, which 
 strike the tallest trees, leaving them in 
 an instant gaunt and bare and shriveled, 
 as though centuries had suddenly pass- 
 ed over their green and waving heads. 
 There are flashes of lightning which dart 
 through a verandah or room, and leave 
 every living thing in it struck down dead 
 peals of thunder wHich seem to shake 
 the very earth to its centre. There are 
 all these meteorological possibilities 
 nay, probabilities following fast upon 
 a burning, hot, still morning; and what 
 wonder is it that I am anxious and ner- 
 vous until everybody belonging to me is 
 under shelter, though shelter can only 
 be from the driving rain or tearing gusts 
 of wind ? No wall or window, no bolt 
 or bar, can keep out the dazzling death 
 which swoops down in a violet glare and 
 snatches its victims anywhere and every- 
 where. A Kafir washerman, talking yes- 
 terday morning to his employer in her 
 verandah, was in the act of saying, " I 
 will be sure to come to-morrow," when 
 he fell forward on his face, dead from a 
 blinding flash out of a passing thunder- 
 cloud. An old settler, a little way up- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 57 
 
 country, was reading prayers to his house- 
 hold the other night, and in a second 
 half the little kneeling circle were struck 
 dead alongside of the patriarchal reader 
 dead on their knees. Two young men 
 were playing a game of billiards quiet- 
 ly enough : one was leaning forward to 
 make a stroke when there came a crash 
 and a crackle, and he dropped dead with 
 his cue in his hand. The local papers 
 are full every day of a long list of cas- 
 ualties, but it is not from these sources 
 I have drawn the preceding examples : I 
 only chanced to hear them yesterday, 
 and they all happened quite close by. 
 As for cattle or trees being killed, that 
 is an every-day occurrence in summer, 
 and even a hailstorm, so long as it does 
 not utterly bombard the town and leave 
 the houses roofless and open to wind and 
 weather, is not thought anything of. The 
 hail -shower of yesterday, though, bom- 
 barded my creepers and reduced them 
 to a pitiful state in five minutes. So soon 
 as it was possible to venture outside the 
 
 house, F called me to. see the ruin 
 
 of leaf and bud which strewed the ce- 
 mented floor of the verandah. It is dif- 
 ficult to describe, and still more difficult 
 to believe, the state to which the foliage 
 had been reduced. On the weather side 
 of the house every leaf was torn off, and 
 not only torn, but riddled through and 
 through as though by a charge of swan- 
 shot. All my young rose-shoots, climb- 
 ing so swiftly up to the roof of the ve- 
 randah, were snapped off and stripped 
 of their tender leaves and pretty buds. 
 The honeysuckles' luxuriant foliage was 
 all gone, lying in a wet, forlorn mass of 
 beaten green leaves around each pillar, 
 and there was not a leaf left on the vines. 
 But a much more serious trouble came 
 out of that storm. Though it has passed 
 with the passing fury of wind and rain, 
 still, it will always leave a feeling of in- 
 security in my mind during similar out- 
 bursts. The great hailstones were forced 
 by the driving wind in immense quanti- 
 ties beneath the tiles, and deposited on 
 the rude planking which, painted white, 
 forms the ceiling. This planking has the . 
 boards wide apart, so it is not difficult to 
 see that so soon as the warmth of the 
 
 house melted the hailstones that is, in 
 five minutes the water trickled down as 
 through a sieve. It was not to be dealt 
 with like an ordinary leak : it was here, 
 there and everywhere, on sofas and chairs, 
 beds and writing-tables ; and the moment 
 the sun shone out again, bright and hot 
 as ever, the contents of the house had 
 to be turned out of doors to dry. Dry- 
 ing meant, however, warping of writing- 
 tables, and in fact of all woodwork, and 
 fading of chintzes, beneath the broiling 
 glare of a midday sun. Such are a few 
 of the difficulties of existence in South 
 Africa difficulties, however, which must 
 be met and got over as best they may, 
 and laughed at once they are past and 
 over, as I am really doing in spite of my 
 affectation of grumbling. 
 
 A very pleasant adventure came to us 
 the other evening, however, through one 
 of these sudden thunderstorms. Imag- 
 ine a little tea-table, with straw chairs all 
 around it, standing in the verandah. A 
 fair and pleasant view lies before us of 
 green rises and still greener hollows, with 
 dark dots of plantations from which peep 
 red roofs or white gables. Beyond, again, 
 lies Maritzburg under the lee of higher 
 hills, which cast a deeper shadow over 
 the picturesque little town. We are six 
 in all, and four horses are being led up 
 and down by Kafir grooms, for their 
 riders have come out for a breath of air 
 after a long, burning day of semi-trop- 
 ical heat, and also for a cup of tea and 
 a chat. We were exactly even, three 
 ladies and three gentlemen ; and we 
 grumbled at the weather and complain- 
 ed of our servants according to the usual 
 style of South-African conversation. 
 
 Presently, some one said, "It's much 
 cooler now." 
 
 "Yes," was the answer, "but look at 
 those clouds ; and is that a river rolling 
 down the hillside ?" 
 
 Up to that moment there had not been 
 a drop of rain, but even as the words 
 passed the speaker's lips a blinding flash 
 of light, a sullen growl and a warning 
 drop of rain, making a splash as big as 
 half a crown at our feet, told their own 
 story. In less time than it takes me to 
 write or you tjo read the horses had been 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 hastily led up to the stable and stuffed 
 into stalls only meant for two, and al- 
 ready occupied. But Natalian horses 
 are generally meek, underbred, spirit- 
 less creatures, ' with sense enough to 
 munch their mealies in peace and quiet, 
 no matter how closely they are packed. 
 As for me, I snatched up my tea-tray 
 and fled into the wee drawing-room. 
 Some one else caught up the table ; 
 the straw chairs were left as usual to 
 be buffeted by the wind and weather, 
 and we retreated to the comparative 
 shelter of the house. But no doors or 
 windows could keep out the torrent of 
 rain which burst like a waterspout over 
 our heads, forcing its way under the 
 tiles, beneath the badly -fitting doors 
 and windows, sweeping and eddying all 
 around like the true tropical tempest it 
 was. Claps of thunder shook the nur- 
 sery, where we three ladies had taken 
 refuge, ostensibly to encourage and cheer 
 the nurse, but really to huddle together 
 like sheep with the children in our midst. 
 Flash after flash lit up the fast-gathering 
 darkness as the storm rolled away, to 
 end in an hour or so as suddenly as it 
 began. By this time it was not much 
 past six, and though the twilight is 
 early in these parts, there was enough 
 daylight still left for our guests to see 
 their way home. So the horses were 
 brought, adieux were made, and our 
 guests set forth, to return, however, in 
 half an hour asking whether there was 
 any other road into town, for the river 
 was sweeping like a maelstrom for half 
 a mile on either side of the frail wooden 
 bridge by which they had crossed a 
 couple of hours earlier. Now, the only 
 other road into town is across a ford, or 
 "drift," as it is called here, of the same 
 river a mile higher up. Of course, it 
 was of no use thinking of this way for 
 even a moment ; but as they were 
 really anxious to get home if possible, 
 
 F volunteered to go back and see if 
 
 it was practicable to get across by the 
 bridge. I listened and waited anxiously 
 enough in the verandah, for I could hear 
 the roar of the rushing river down below 
 a river which is ordinarily as sluggish 
 as a brook in midsummer and I was 
 
 so afraid that F or one of the other 
 
 gentlemen would rashly venture across. 
 But it was not to be attempted by any 
 one who valued his life that evening, 
 
 and F returned joyously, bringing 
 
 our guests home as captives. It was 
 great fun, for, in true colonial fashion, 
 we had no servants to speak of except 
 the nurse, the rest being Kafirs, one more 
 ignorant than the other. And fancy 
 stowing four extra people into a house 
 with four rooms already full to overflow- 
 ing ! But it was done, and done success- 
 fully too, amid peals of laughter and 
 absurd contrivances and arrangements, 
 reminding us of the dear old New Zea- 
 land days. 
 
 The triumph of condensation was due, 
 however, to Charlie, the Kafir groom, 
 who ruthlessly turned my poor little 
 pony carriage out into the open air to 
 make room for some of his extra horses, 
 saying, " It wash it, ma' make it clean : 
 carriage no can get horse-sickness." And 
 he was right, for it is certain death to turn 
 a horse unaccustomed to the open out of 
 his stable at night, especially at this time 
 of year. We were all up very early next 
 morning, and I had an anxious moment 
 or two until I knew whether my market- 
 Kafir could get out to me with bread, 
 etc.; but soon after seven I saw him 
 trudging gayly along with his bare legs, 
 red tunic and long wand or stick, with- 
 out which no Kafir stirs a yard away 
 from home. Apropos of that red tunic, 
 it was bought and given to him to pre- 
 vent him from wearing the small piece 
 of waterproof canvas I gave him to wrap 
 up my bread, flour, sugar, etc. in on a 
 wet morning. I used to notice that these 
 perishable commodities arrived as often 
 quite sopped through and spoiled after 
 this arrangement about the waterproof as 
 before, but the mystery was solved by 
 seeing "Ufan" (otherwise John) with my 
 basket poised on his head, the rain pelt- 
 ing down upon its contents, and the small 
 square of waterproof tied with a string at 
 each corner over his own back. That 
 reminds me of a hat I saw worn in Ma- 
 ritzburg two days ago in surely the most 
 eccentric fashion hat was ever yet put 
 on. It was a large, soft gray felt, and. 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 59 
 
 as far as I could judge, in pretty good 
 condition. The Kafir who sported it had 
 fastened a stout rope to the brim, at the 
 extreme edge of the two sides. He had 
 then turned the hat upside down, and 
 wore it thus securely moored by these 
 ropes behind his ears and under his chin. 
 There were sundry trifles of polished 
 bone, skewers and feathers stuck about 
 his head as well, but the inverted hat 
 sat serenely on the top of all, the soft 
 crown being further secured to its own- 
 er's woolly pate by soda-water wire. I 
 never saw anything so absurd in my life ; 
 but Charlie, who was holding my horse, 
 gazed at it with rapture, and putting both 
 hands together murmured in his best 
 English and in the most insinuating 
 manner, " Inkosi have old hat, ma' ? 
 Like dat?" He evidently meant to 
 imitate the fashion if he could. 
 
 Poor Charlie has lost his savings 
 three pounds. He has been in great 
 trouble about it, as he was saving up his 
 money carefully to buy a wife. It has 
 been stolen, I fear, by one of his fellow- 
 servants, and suspicion points strongly 
 to Tom the Pickle, who cannot be made 
 to respect the rights of property in any 
 shape, from my sugar upward. The ma- 
 chinery of the law has been set in mo- 
 tion to find these three pounds, with no 
 good results, however ; and now Charlie 
 avows his intention of bringing a "witch- 
 finder" (that is, a witch who finds) up 
 to tell him where the money is. I am 
 invited to be present at the performance, 
 but I only hope she won't say /have got 
 poor Charlie's money, for the etiquette 
 is that whoever she accuses has to pro- 
 duce the missing sum at once, no mat- 
 ter whether he knows anything about its 
 disappearance or not. 
 
 Before I quite leave the subject of 
 thunderstorms of which I devoutly 
 hope this is the last month I must ob- 
 serve that it seems a cruel arrangement 
 that the only available material for met- 
 aling the roads should be iron-stone, of 
 which there is an immense quantity in 
 the immediate neighborho.od of Maritz- 
 burg. It answers the purpose admirably 
 so far as changing the dismal swamps 
 of the streets into tolerably hard high- 
 
 roads goes ; but in such an electric cli- 
 mate as this it is really very dangerous. 
 Since the principal street has been thus 
 improved, I am assured that during a 
 thunderstorm it is exceedingly danger- 
 ous to pass down it. Several oxen and 
 Kafirs have been struck down in it, ami 
 the lightning seems to be attracted to the 
 ground, and runs along it in lambent 
 sheets of flame. Yet I fancy it is a case 
 of iron-stone or nothing, for the only 
 other stone I see is a flaky substance 
 which is very friable and closely resem- 
 bles slate, and would be perfectly un- 
 manageable for road-making purposes. 
 
 Speaking of roads, I only wish any- 
 body who grumbles at rates and taxes, 
 which at all events keep him supplied 
 with water and roads, could come here 
 for a month. First, he should see the 
 red mud in scanty quantities which repre- 
 sents our available water-supply (except 
 actually in the town) ; and next he should 
 walk or ride or drive for each is equal- 
 ly perilous down to the town, a mile or 
 two off, with me of a dark night. I say, 
 "with me," because I should make it a 
 point to call the grumbler's attention to 
 the various pitfalls on the way. I think 
 I should like him to drive about seven 
 o'clock, say to dinner, when one does 
 not like the idea of having to struggle 
 with a broken carriage or to go the re- 
 mainder of the way on foot. About 7 
 p. M. the light is peculiarly treacherous 
 and uncertain, and is worse than the 
 darkness later on. Very well, then, we 
 will start, first looking carefully to the 
 harness, lest Charlie should have omit- 
 ted to fasten some important strap or 
 buckle. There is a track in fact, there 
 are three tracks all the way down to the 
 main road, but each track has its own 
 dangers. Down the centre of one runs 
 a ridge like a backbone, with a deep furrow 
 on either hand. If we were to attempt 
 this, the bed of the pony carriage would 
 rest on the ridge, to the speedy destruc- 
 tion of the axles. To the right there is 
 a grassy track, which is as uneven as a 
 ploughed field, and has a couple of tre- 
 mendous holes, to begin with, entirely 
 concealed by waving grass. The secret 
 of these constant holes is that a noctur- 
 
6o 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 nal animal called an ant-bear makes 
 raids upon the ant-hills, which are like 
 mole-hills, only bigger, destroys them, 
 and scoops down to the new foundation 
 in its search for the eggs, an especial 
 dainty hard to get at. So one day there 
 is a little brown hillock to be seen among 
 the grass, and the next only a scratched- 
 up hole. The tiny city is destroyed, the 
 fortress taken and razed to the ground. 
 All the ingenious galleries and large 
 halls are laid low and the precious nur- 
 series crumbled to the dust. If we get 
 into one of these, we shall go no farther 
 (a horse broke his neck in one last week). 
 But we will suppose them safely passed ; 
 and also the swamp. To avoid this we 
 must take a good sweep to the left over per- 
 fectly unknown ground, and we shall be 
 sure to disturb a good many Kafir cranes 
 birds who are so ludicrously like the 
 black-headed, red-legged, white-bodied 
 cranes in a " Noah's ark " that they seem 
 old friends at once. Now, there is one 
 deep, deep ravine right across the road, 
 and then a steep hill, halfway down which 
 comes a very pretty bit of driving in 
 doubtful light. You've got to tura ab- 
 ruptly to the left on the shoulder of the 
 hill. Exactly where you turn is a cre- 
 vasse of unknown depth, originally some 
 sort of rude drain. The rains have wash- 
 ed away the hoarding, made havoc around 
 the drain, and left a hole which it is not 
 pleasant to look into on foot and in broad 
 daylight. But, whatever you do, don't, 
 in trying to avoid this hole, keep too 
 much to the right, for there is what was 
 once intended for a reasonable ditch, but 
 furious torrents of water racing along 
 have seized upon it as a channel and 
 turned it into a river-course. After that, 
 at the foot of the hill, lies a quarter of a 
 mile of mud and heavy sand, with alter- 
 nate big projecting boulders and deep 
 holes made by unhappy wagons having 
 stuck therein. Then you reach always 
 supposing you have not yet broken a 
 spring the willow bridge, a little frail 
 wooden structure, prettily shaded and 
 sheltered by luxuriant weeping willows 
 drooping their trailing green plumes into 
 the muddy Umsindusi ; and so on to the 
 main road into Pieter-Maritzburg. Such 
 
 a bit of road as this is ! It ought to be 
 photographed. I suppose it is a couple 
 of dozen yards wide (for land is of little 
 value hereabouts, and we can afford wide 
 margins to our highways), and there cer- 
 tainly is not more than a strip a yard 
 wide which is anything like safe driving. 
 In two or three places it is deeply furrow- 
 ed for fifty yards or so by\he heavy sum- 
 mer rains. Here and there are standing 
 pools of water in holes whose depth is 
 unknown, and everywhere the surface is 
 deeply seamed and scarred by wagon- 
 wheels. Fortunately for my nerves, there 
 are but few and rare occasions on which 
 we are tempted to confront these perils 
 by night, and hitherto we have been tol- 
 erably fortunate. 
 
 \ MARCH 10. 
 
 You will think this letter is nothing but 
 a jumble of grumbles if, after complain- 
 ing of the roads, I complain of my hens ; 
 but, really, if the case were fairly stated, 
 I am quite sure that Mr. Tetmegeier or 
 any of the great authorities on poul- 
 try-keeping would consider I had some 
 ground for bemoaning myself. In the 
 first place, as I think I have mentioned 
 before, there is a sudden and mysterious 
 disease among poultry which breaks out 
 like an epidemic, and is vaguely called 
 "fowl-sickness." That possibility alone 
 is an anxiety to one, and naturally makes 
 the poultry-fancier desirous of rearing as 
 many chickens as possible, so as to leave 
 a margin for disaster. In spite of all 
 my incessant care and trouble, and a 
 vast expenditure of mealies, to say noth- 
 ing of crusts and scraps, I only manage 
 to rear about twenty-five per cent, of my 
 chickens. Even this is accomplished in 
 the face of such unparalleled stupidity on 
 the part of my hens that I wonder any 
 chickens survive at all. Nothing will 
 induce the hens to avail themselves of 
 any sort of shelter for their broods. They 
 just squat down in the middle of a path 
 or anywhere, and go to sleep there. I 
 hear sleepy "squawks" in the middle of 
 the night, and find next morning that 
 a cat or owl or snake has been supping 
 off half my baby-chickens. Besides this 
 sort of nocturnal fatalism, they perpetrate 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 61 
 
 wholesale infanticide during the day by 
 dragging the poor little wretches about 
 among weeds and grass five feet high, 
 all wet and full of thorns and burs. But 
 it is perhaps in the hen-house that the 
 worst and most idiotic part of their nature 
 shows itself. Some few weeks ago I took 
 three hens who were worrying us all to 
 death by clucking entreaties to be given 
 eggs to sit upon, and established them in 
 three empty boxes, with seven or eight 
 eggs under each. What do you think these 
 hens have done ? They have contrived, 
 in the first place, to push and roll all the 
 eggs into one nest. Then they appear 
 to have invited every laying hen in the 
 place into that box, for I counted forty- 
 eight eggs in it last week. Upon these 
 one hen sits, in the very centre. Of 
 course, there are many eggs outside her 
 wings, although she habitually keeps 
 every feather fluffed out to the utmost ; 
 which must in itself be a fatigue. Around 
 her, standing, but still sitting vigorously, 
 were three other hens covering, or at- 
 tempting to cover, this enormous nest- 
 ful of eggs. Every now and then they 
 appear to give a party, for I find several 
 eggs kicked out into the middle of the 
 hen-house, and strange fowls feeding on 
 them amid immense cackling. Nothing 
 ever seems to result from this pyramid 
 of feathers. It (the pyramid) has been 
 there just five weeks now, and at distant 
 intervals a couple of chickens have ap- 
 peared which none of the hens will ac- 
 knowledge. Sitting appears to be their 
 one idea. They look upon chickens as 
 an interruption to their more serious du- 
 ties, and utterly disregard them. It is 
 quite heartbreaking to see these unhap- 
 py chickens seeking for a mother, and 
 meeting with nothing but pecks and 
 squalls, which plainly express, "Go along, 
 do/" One hen I have left, as advised, 
 to her own devices, and she has shown 
 her instinct by laying ten eggs on a rafter 
 over the stable, upon which she can bare- 
 ly balance herself and them. Upon these 
 eggs she is now sitting with great dili- 
 gence, but as each chicken is hatched 
 there is no possible fate for it but to 
 tumble off the rafter and be killed. 
 There is no ladder or any means of as- 
 
 cent, or of descent except a drop of a 
 dozen feet. Another hen has turned a 
 pigeon off her nest, and insisted on sit- 
 ting upon the two eggs herself. Great 
 was her dismay, however, when she found 
 that her babies required to be fed every 
 five minutes, and that no amount of peck- 
 ing could induce them to come out for a 
 walk the day they Avere hatched. She 
 deserted them, of course, and the poor 
 little pigeons died of neglect. Now, do you 
 not think Kafir hens are a handful for a 
 poor woman, who has quantities of other 
 things to do, to have to manage ? 
 
 Part of my regular occupation at this 
 time of year, when nearly every blade 
 of grass carries a tick at its extreme 
 tip, is to extract these pertinacious little 
 beasties from the children's legs and 
 arms. I can understand how it is that 
 G is constantly coming to me say- 
 ing, "A needle, mumsy, if you please: 
 here is such a big tick !" because he is 
 always in the grass helping Charlie to 
 stuff what he has cut for the horses into 
 a sack or assisting some one else to burn 
 a large patch of rank vegetation, and dis- 
 lodging snakes, centipedes and all sorts 
 of venomous things in the process, I 
 can understand, I say, how this mis- 
 chievous little imp, who is always in the 
 front of whatever is going on, should ga- 
 ther unto himself ticks, mosquitoes, ajid 
 even "fillies;" but I cannot comprehend 
 why the baby, who, from lack of physical 
 possibilities, leads a comparatively harm- 
 less and innocent existence, should also 
 attract ticks to his fat arms and legs. I 
 thought perhaps they might come from 
 a certain puppy which gets a good deal 
 of hugging up, but I am assured that a 
 tick never leaves an animal. They will 
 come off the grass upon any live thing 
 passing, but they never move once they 
 have taken hold of flesh with their cruel 
 pincers. It is quite a dreadful thing to 
 see the oxen "out-spanned" when they 
 come down to the "spruit" to drink. 
 Their dewlaps, and indeed their whole 
 bodies, seem a mass of these horrible, 
 swollen, bloated insects, as big as a large 
 pea already, but sucking away with all 
 their might, and resisting all efforts the 
 unhappy animals can make with tail or 
 
62 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 head to get rid of them. Whenever I 
 see the baby restless and fidgety, I un- 
 dress him, and I am pretty sure to find 
 a tick or two lazily moving about look- 
 ing for a comfortable place to settle. 
 
 G gave me quite a fright the other 
 
 day. He was nicely dressed, for a won- 
 der, to go for a drive with me in the car- 
 riage, and was standing before my look- 
 ing-glass attempting to brush his hair. 
 Suddenly I saw a stream of blood pour- 
 ing down his neck, and on examination 
 I found that he must have dislodged the 
 great bloated tick lying on his collar, and 
 which had settled on a vein just above 
 his ear. The creature had made quite a 
 wound- as it was being torn away by the 
 brush, and the blood was pouring free- 
 ly from it, and would not be staunched. 
 No cold water or plaster or anything 
 would stop it, and the end was that poor 
 
 little G had to give up his drive and 
 
 remain at home with wet cloths on his 
 head. He was rather proud of it, all 
 the same, considering it quite an adven- 
 ture, especially as he declared it did not 
 hurt at all. Both the children keep very 
 well here, although they do not look so 
 rosy as they used to in England; but 
 I am assured that the apple-cheeks will 
 come back in the winter. They have 
 enormous appetites, and certainly enjoy 
 the free, unconventional life amazingly ; 
 only Baby will not take to a Kafir nurse- 
 boy. He condescends to smile when 
 Charlie or any of the servants (for they 
 all pet him a great deal) executes a war- 
 dance for his amusement or sings him a 
 song, but he does not like being carried 
 about in their arms. I have now got a 
 Kafir nurse-girl, a Christian. She is a 
 fat, good-tempered and very docile girl 
 of about fifteen, who looks at least twen- 
 ty-five years old. Baby only goes to her 
 to pluck off the gay 'kerchief she wears 
 on her head. When that is removed he 
 shrieks to get away from her. 
 
 It is so absurd to see an English child 
 
 falling into colonial ways. G talks 
 
 to all the animals in Kafir, for they evi- 
 dently don't understand English. If one 
 wants to get rid of a dog, it is of no use 
 saying "Get out!" ever so crossly; but 
 when G yells "Foot-sack!" (this is 
 
 pure phonetic spelling, out of my own 
 head) the cur retreats precipitately. So 
 to a horse : you must tell him to go on 
 in Kafir, and he will not stop for any 
 
 sound except a long low whistle. G 
 
 even plays at games of the country. 
 Sometimes I come upon the shady side 
 of the verandah, taken up with chairs 
 arranged in pairs along all its length 
 and a sort of tent of rugs and shawls at 
 one end, which is the wagon. " I am 
 playing at trekking, mumsy dear: would 
 you like to wait and see me out-span ? 
 There is a nice place with water for the 
 bullocks, and wood for my fire. Look 
 at the brake of my wagon ; and here's 
 such a jolly real bullock-whip Charlie 
 made me out of a bamboo and strips of 
 
 bullock-hide." G can't believe he 
 
 ever played at railways or horses or civ- 
 ilized games, and it is very certain that 
 the baby will trek and out-span so soon 
 as he can toddle. 
 
 We grown - up people catch violent 
 colds here ; and it is no wonder, con- 
 sidering the changes of weather, far be- 
 yond what even you, with your fickle 
 climate, have to bear. Twenty - four 
 hours ago it was so cold that I was glad 
 of my sealskin jacket at six o'clock in 
 the evening, and it was really bitterly 
 cold at night. The next morning there 
 was a hot wind, and it has been like 
 living at the mouth of a furnace ever 
 since. What wonder is it that I hear 
 of bronchitis or croup in almost every 
 house, and that we have all got bad 
 colds in our throats and chests ? I heard 
 the climate defined the other day as one 
 in which sick people get well, and well 
 people get sick, and I begin to think it 
 is rather a true way of looking at it. 
 People are always complaining, and the 
 doctors (of whom there are a great many 
 in proportion to the population) seem al- 
 ways very busy. Everybody says, "Wait 
 till the winter," but I have been here 
 four months now, three of which have 
 certainly been the most trying and dis- 
 agreeable, as to climate and weather, I 
 have ever experienced ; nor have I ever 
 felt more generally unhinged and unwell 
 in my life. This seems a hard thing to 
 say of a climate with so good a reputa- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 tion as this, but I am obliged to write of 
 things as I find them. I used to hear 
 the climate immensely praised in Eng- 
 land, but I don't hear much said in its 
 favor here. The most encouraging re- 
 mark one meets with is, "Oh, you'll get 
 used to it." 
 
 HOWICK, March 13. 
 
 It is difficult to imagine that so cool 
 and charming a spot as this is only a 
 dozen miles from Maritzburg, of which 
 one gets so tired. It must be acknow- 
 ledged that each mile might fairly count 
 for six English ones if the difficulty of 
 getting over it were reckoned. The jour- 
 ney occupied three hours of a really beau- 
 tiful afternoon, which had the first crisp 
 freshness of autumn in its balmy breath, 
 and the road climbed a series of hills, 
 with, from the top of each, a wide and 
 charming prospect. We traveled in a 
 sort of double dog-cart of a solidity and 
 strength of construction which filled me 
 with amazement until I saw the nature 
 of the ground it had to go over. Then I 
 was fain to confess it might have been 
 if such were possible twice as strong 
 with advantage, for in spite of care and 
 an exceeding slow pace we bent our 
 axles. This road is actually the first 
 stage of the great overland journey to 
 the diamond-fields, and it is difficult to 
 imagine how there can be any transport 
 service at all in the face of such difficul- 
 ties. I have said so much about bad 
 roads already that I feel more than half 
 ashamed to dilate upon this one; yet 
 roads, next to servants, are the standing 
 grievance of Natal. To see a road-party 
 at work and you must bear in mind 
 that thousands are spent annually on 
 roads is to understand in a great mea- 
 sure how so many miles come to be 
 mere quagmires and pitfalls for man and 
 beast. A few tents by the roadside here 
 and there, a little group of lazy, three- 
 parts-naked Kafirs, a white man in com- 
 mand who probably knows as little of 
 the first principles of roadmaking as his 
 dog, and a feeble scratching up of the 
 surrounding mud, transferring it from 
 one hole to the other, that is roadmak- 
 ing in Natal, so far as it has presented 
 
 itself to me. On this particular route the 
 fixed idea of the road-parties of which 
 we passed three was to dig a broad, 
 wide ditch a couple of feet below the 
 level of the surrounding country, and to 
 pick up the earth all over it, so. that the 
 first shower of rain might turn it into a 
 hopeless, sticky mass of mud. As for 
 any idea of making the middle of the 
 road higher than the sides, that appears 
 to be considered a preposterous one, and 
 is not, at all events, acted upon in any 
 place I have seen. It was useless to 
 think of availing ourselves of the ditch, 
 for the mud looked too serious after last 
 night's heavy rain ; so we kept to an old- 
 er track, where we bumped in and out of 
 holes in a surprising and bruising fash- 
 ion. It took four tolerably stout and 
 large horses to get us along at all ; and 
 if they had not been steadily and care- 
 fully driven, we should have been still 
 more black and blue and stiff and aching 
 than we were. I wonder if you will be- 
 lieve me when I say that I was assured 
 that many of the holes were six feet 
 deep? I don't think our wheels went 
 into any hole more than three feet be- 
 low the rough surface. I found, how- 
 ever, that the boulders were worse than 
 the holes. One goes, to a certain extent, 
 quietly in and out of a hole, but the 
 wheel slips very suddenly off the top of 
 a high boulder, and comes to the ground 
 with a cruel jerk. There was plenty of 
 rock in the hillside, so every now and 
 then the holes would be filled up by 
 boulders, and we crawled for some yards 
 over ground which had the effect of an 
 exceedingly rough wall having tumbled 
 down over it. If one could imagine Mr. 
 MacAdam's idea carried out in Brobding- 
 nag, one would have some faint notion of 
 the gigantic proportions of the hardening 
 material on that road. 
 
 It was as is often the case where an 
 almost tropical sun draws up the mois- 
 ture from the earth a misty evening, 
 and the distant view was too vague and 
 vaporous to leave any distinct picture on 
 my memory. Round Howick itself are 
 several little plantations in the clefts of 
 the nearest downs, and each plantation 
 shelters a little farm or homestead. We 
 
6 4 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 can only just discern in more distant hol- 
 lows deep blue-black shadows made by 
 patches of real native forest, the first I 
 have seen ; but close at hand the park- 
 like country is absolutely bare of timber 
 save for these sheltering groups of gum 
 trees, beneath whose protection other 
 trees can take root and flourish. Gum 
 trees seem the nurses of all vegetation 
 in a colony : they drain a marshy soil 
 and make it fit for a human dwelling- 
 place wherever they grow. There you 
 see also willows with their delicate ten- 
 der leaves, and sentinel poplars whose 
 lightly -poised foliage keeps up a cool 
 rustle always. But now the road is get- 
 ting a trifle better, and we are beginning 
 to drop down hill. Hitherto it has been 
 all stiff collar-work, and we have climbed 
 a thousand feet or more above Maritz- 
 burg. It is closing in quite a cold even- 
 ing, welcome to our sun-baked energies, 
 as we drive across quite an imposing 
 bridge (as well it may be, for it cost 
 a good many thousand pounds) which 
 spans the Umgeni River, and so round a 
 sharp turn and up a steepish hill to where 
 the hotel stands amid sheltering trees 
 and a beautiful undergrowth of ferns and 
 arum lilies. Ho wick appears to be all 
 hotel, for two have already been built, 
 and a third is in progress. A small store 
 and a pretty wee church are all the other 
 component parts of the place. Our ho- 
 tel is delightful, with an enchanting view 
 of the Umgeni widening out as it ap- 
 proaches the broad cliff from which it 
 leaps a few hundred yards farther on. 
 
 Now, ever since I arrived in Natal I 
 have been pining to see a real mountain 
 and a real river not a big hill or a ca- 
 pricious spruit, sometimes a ditch and 
 sometimes a lake, but a respectable river, 
 too deep to be muddy. Here it is before 
 me at last, the splendid Umgeni, curving 
 among the hills, wide and tranquil, yet 
 with a rushing sound suggestive of its im- 
 mense volume. We can't waste a mo- 
 ment in-doors : not even the really nice 
 fresh butter and what a treat that is you 
 must taste Maritzburg butter to under- 
 stand nor the warm tea can detain us 
 for long. We snatch up our shawls and 
 run out in the gloaming to follow the 
 
 river's sound and find out the spot where 
 it leaps down. It is not difficult, once 
 we are in the open air, to decide in which 
 direction we must go, and for once we 
 brave ticks, and even snakes, and go 
 straight across country through the long 
 grass. There it is. Quite suddenly we 
 have come upon it, so beautiful in its 
 simplicity and grandeur, no .ripple or 
 break to confuse the eye and take away 
 the sense of unity and consolidation. The 
 river widens, and yet hurries, gathering up 
 strength and volume until it reaches that 
 great cliff of iron-stone. You could drop 
 a plumb-line over it, so absolutely straight 
 is it for three hundred and fifty feet. I 
 have seen other waterfalls in other parts 
 of the world, but I never saw anything 
 much more imposing than this great per- 
 pendicular sheet of water broken into a 
 cloud of spray and foam so soon as it 
 touches the deep, silent basin below. 
 The water is discolored where it flings 
 itself over the cliff, and there are tinges 
 and stains of murky yellow on it there, 
 but the spray which rises up from below 
 is purer and whiter than driven snow, 
 and keeps a great bank of lycopodium 
 moss at the foot of the cliff, over which 
 it is driven by every breath of air, fresh 
 and young and vividly green. Many 
 rare ferns and fantastic bushes droop on 
 either side of the great fall droop as 
 if they too were giddy with the noise of 
 the water rushing past them, and were 
 going to fling themselves into the dark 
 pools below. But kindly Nature holds 
 them back, for she needs the contrast of 
 branch and stem to give effect to the 
 purity of the falling water. Just one last 
 gleam of reflected sunlight gilded the 
 water's edge where it dashed over the 
 cliff, and a pale crescent moon hung low 
 over it in a soft "daffodil sky." It was 
 all ineffably beautiful and poetic, and the 
 roar of the falling river seemed only to 
 'bring out with greater intensity the ab- 
 solute silence of the desolate spot and 
 the starlight hour. 
 
 MARCH 15. 
 
 If the fall was beautiful in the myste- 
 rious gloaming, it looks a thousand times 
 more fair in its morning splendor of sun- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 shine. The air here is pleasant almost 
 cold, and yet deliciously balmy. It is 
 certainly an enchanting change from 
 Pieter - Maritzburg, were it not for the 
 road which lies between. It is not, how- 
 ever, a road at all. What is the antithe- 
 sis of a road, I wonder the opposite of 
 a road ? That is what the intervening 
 space should be called. After the river 
 takes its leap it moves quietly away among 
 hills and valleys, a wide sheet of placid 
 water, as though there was nothing more 
 needed in the way of exertion. I hear 
 there are some other falls, quite as cha- 
 racteristic in their way, a few miles far- 
 ther in the interior, but as the difficulty 
 of getting to them is very great they 
 must wait until we can spare a longer 
 time here. To-day we drove across fright- 
 ful places until we got on a hill just op- 
 posite the fall. I am not generally ner- 
 vous, but I confess to a very bad five 
 minutes as we approached the edge of 
 the cliff. The brake of the dog-cart was 
 hard down, but the horses had their ears 
 pricked well forward and were leaning 
 back almost on their haunches as we 
 moved slowly down the grassy incline. 
 Every step seemed as if it would take 
 us right over the edge, and the roar and 
 rush of the falling water opposite appear- 
 ed to attract and draw us toward itself 
 in a frightful and mysterious manner. I 
 was never more thankful in my life than 
 when the horses stood stark still, planted 
 their fore feet firmly forward, and refused, 
 trembling all over, to move an inch near- 
 er. We were not really so very close to 
 the edge, but the incline was steep and the 
 long grass concealed that there was any 
 ground beyond. After all, I liked bet- 
 ter returning to a cliff a good deal near- 
 er to the falls, where a rude seat of stones 
 had been arranged on a projecting point 
 ti om whence there was an excellent view. 
 I asked, as one always does, whether 
 there had ever been any accidents, and 
 among other narratives of peril and dis- 
 aster I heard this one. 
 
 Some years ago nothing would in- 
 duce the person who told me the story 
 to commit himself to any fixed period 
 or any nearer date than this a wagon 
 drawn by a long team of oxen was at- 
 5 
 
 tempting to cross the "drift," or ford, 
 which used to exist a very short way 
 above the falls. I saw the spot after- 
 ward, and it really looked little short of 
 madness to have attempted to establish 
 a ford so near the place where the river 
 falls over this great cliff. They tried to 
 build a bridge, even, at the same spot, 
 but it was swept away over and over 
 again, and some of the buttresses remain 
 standing to this day. One of them rests 
 on a small islet between the river and 
 the cliff, only a few yards away from 
 the brink of the precipice. It is a sort 
 of rudimentary island, formed by great 
 blocks of stone and some wind-blown 
 earth in which a few rank tufts of grass 
 have taken root, binding it all together. 
 But this island does not divide the vol- 
 ume of water as it tumbles headlong 
 over the cliff, for the river is only parted 
 by it for a brief moment. It sweeps rap- 
 idly round on either side of the frail ob- 
 stacle, and then unites itself again into 
 a broad sheet just before its leap. The 
 old boers used to imagine that this island 
 broke the force of the current, and would 
 protect them from being carried over the 
 falls by it. In winter, when the water is 
 low and scarce, this may be so, but in 
 summer it is madness to trust to it. Any- 
 way, the Dutchman got his team half- 
 way across, a Kafir sitting in the wagon 
 and driving, another lad acting as " fore- 
 looper" and guiding the "span" (as a 
 team is called here). The boer prudent- 
 ly rode, and had no sooner reached the 
 midstream than he perceived the current 
 to be of unusual depth and swiftness. 
 He managed, however, to struggle across 
 to the opposite bank, and from thence he 
 beheld his wagon overturn, his goods 
 wash out of it and sweep like straws 
 over the precipice : as for the poor little 
 forelooper, nobody knows what became 
 of him. The overturned wagon, with 
 the struggling oxen still yoked to it and 
 the Kafir driver clinging on, swept to 
 the edge of the falls. There a lucky 
 promontory of this miniature island 
 caught and held it fast, drowning some 
 of the poor bullocks indeed, but saving 
 the wagon. Doubtless, the Kafir might 
 easily have saved himself, for he had 
 
66 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 hold of the wagon when it was checked 
 in its rapid rush. But instead of grasp- 
 ing at bush or rock, at a wheel or the 
 horn of a bullock, he stood straight up, 
 holding his whip erect in his right hand, 
 and with one loud defiant whoop of ex- 
 ultation jumped straight over the fearful 
 ledge. His master said the fright must 
 have driven him mad, for he rode furi- 
 ously along the bank shouting words of 
 help and encouragement, which prob- 
 ably the poor Kafir never heard, for he 
 believed his last hour had come and 
 sprang to meet the death before him 
 with that dauntless bravery which sav- 
 ages so often show in the face of the in- 
 evitable. As one sat in safety and look- 
 ed at the rushing, irresistible water, one 
 could easily picture to one's self the strug- 
 gling pile of wagon and oxen in the wa- 
 ter just caught back at the edge, the fran- 
 tic horseman by the river-side gesticula- 
 ting wildly, and the ebony figure erect 
 and fearless, with the long streaming 
 whip held out, taking that desperate leap 
 as though of his own free will. 
 
 I think we spent the greater part of 
 the day at the fall, looking at it under 
 every effect of passing cloud-shadow or 
 sunny sky, beneath the midday brilliancy 
 of an almost tropical sun and in the soft 
 pearly-gray tints of the short twilight. 
 The young moon set almost as soon as 
 she rose, and gave no light to speak of: 
 it was therefore no use stumbling in the 
 dark to the edge of so dangerous a cleft 
 when we could see nothing except the 
 ghostly shimmer of spray down below, 
 and only hear the ceaseless roar of the 
 water. So how do you think we amused 
 ourselves after our late dinner ? We went 
 to a traveling circus advertised to play 
 at Howick"for one night only." That 
 is to say, it was not there at all, because 
 the wagons had all stuck fast in some of 
 the holes in that fearful road. But the 
 performing dogs and ponies had not 
 stuck, nor the " boneless boy. " He could 
 
 not stick anywhere," as G remarked, 
 
 and they held a little performance of their 
 own in a room at the other hotel. Thith- 
 er we stumbled through pitchy darkness 
 
 at nine o'clock, G insisting on being 
 
 taken out of bed and dressed again to 
 
 come with us. There was a good deal 
 of difference between the behavior and 
 demeanor of the black and white spec- 
 tators of that small performance. The 
 Kafirs sat silent, dignified and attentive, 
 gazing with wide-open eyes at the " bone- 
 less boy," who turned himself upside 
 down and inside out in the most per- 
 plexing fashion. "What do you think 
 of it?" I asked a Kafir who spoke Eng- 
 lish. " Him master take all him bone 
 out 'fore him begin, inkosa-casa : when 
 him finish, put 'em all back again inside 
 him ;" and indeed that was what our 
 pliable friend looked like. We two la- 
 dies for I had the rare treat of a charm- 
 ing companion of my own "sect" on 
 this occasion could not remain long, 
 however, on account of our white neigh- 
 bors. Many were drunk, all were up- 
 roarious. They lighted their cigars with 
 delightful colonial courtesy and inde- 
 pendence, and called freely for more 
 liquor ; so we were obliged to leave the 
 boneless one in the precise attitude of 
 one of those porcelain grotesque mon- 
 sters one sees, his feet held tightly in his 
 hands on either side of his little grin- 
 ning Japanese face, and his body dis- 
 posed comfortably in an arch over his 
 
 head. Even G had to give up and 
 
 come away, for he was stifled by smoke 
 and frightened by the noise. The sec- 
 ond rank of colonists here do not seem 
 to me to be drawn from so respectable 
 and self-respecting a class as those I 
 came across in New Zealand and Austra- 
 lia. Perhaps it is demoralizing to them 
 to find themselves, as it were, over the 
 black population whom they affect to de- 
 spise and yet cannot do without. They 
 do not seem to desire contact with the 
 larger world outside, nor to receive or 
 welcome the idea of progress which is 
 the life-blood of a young colony. Natal 
 resembles an overgrown child with very 
 bad manners and a magnificent igno- 
 rance of its own shortcomings. 
 
 At daylight next morning we were up 
 betimes and made an early start, so as 
 to avoid the heat of the morning sun. 
 A dense mist lay close to the earth as 
 far as the eye could reach, and out of 
 its soft white billows only the highest 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 of the hilltops peeped like islands in 
 a lake of fleecy clouds. We bumped 
 along in our usual style, here a hole, 
 there a boulder, slipping now on a steep 
 cutting for this damp mist makes the 
 hillsides very "greasy," as our driver 
 remarked climbing painfully over ridge 
 after ridge, until we came to the highest 
 point of the road between us and Maritz- 
 burg. Here we paused for a few mo- 
 ments to breathe our panting team and 
 to enjoy the magnificent view. I have 
 at last seen a river worthy of the name, 
 and now I see mountains not the in- 
 cessant rising hills which have opened 
 out before me in each fresh ascent, but 
 a splendid chain of lofty mountains not 
 peaks, for they are nearly all cut quite 
 straight against the sky, but level lines far 
 up beyond the clouds, which are just flush- 
 ing red with the sunrise. The mountains 
 are among and behind the clouds, and 
 have not yet caught any of the light and 
 color of the new day. They loom dimly 
 among the growing cloud-splendors, cold 
 and ashen and sombre, as befits their 
 majestic outlines. These are the Drak- 
 enfels, snow-covered except in the hot- 
 test weather. I miss the serrated peaks 
 of the Southern Alps and the grand con- 
 fusion of the Himalayan range. These 
 mountains are lofty, indeed rise far into 
 cloudland, but except for a mighty crag 
 or a huge notch here and there they rep- 
 resent a series of straight lines against 
 the sky. This is evidently the peculiar- 
 ity of the mountain - formation of South 
 Africa. I noticed it first in Table Moun- 
 tain at Cape Town : it is repeated in ev- 
 ery little hill between D'Urban and Ma- 
 ritzburg, and now it is before me, carried 
 out on a gigantic scale in this splendid 
 range. My eye is not used to it, I sup- 
 pose, for I hear better judges of outline 
 and proportion than I am declare it is 
 
 characteristic and soothing, with all sorts 
 of complimentary adjectives to which I 
 listen in respectful silence, but with which 
 I cannot agree in my secret heart. I 
 like mountains to have peaks for sum- 
 mits, and not horizontal lines, no matter 
 how lofty these lines may be. It was a 
 beautiful scene, for from the Drakenfcls 
 down to where we stood there rolled a 
 very ocean of green, billowy hills, softly 
 folded over each other, with delicious pur- 
 ple shadows in their hollows and shining 
 pale -green lights on their sunny slopes. 
 We had left the Umgeni so far behind 
 that it only showed like a broad silver rib- 
 bon here and there, while the many red 
 roads stretching away into the background 
 certainly derived enchantment from dis- 
 tance. The foreground was made lively 
 by an encampment of wagons which were 
 just going to "in-span " and start. The 
 women fussed about the gypsy-like fires 
 getting breakfast, the Kafirs shouted to 
 the bullocks prudently grazing until the 
 last moment, and last, not least, to the 
 
 intense delight of G , four perfectly 
 
 tame ostriches were walking leisurely 
 among the wagons eating food out of the 
 children's hands and looking about for 
 "digesters" among the grass. I felt in- 
 clined to point out the boulders with 
 which the road was strewn to their fa- 
 vorable notice. They had come from far 
 in the interior, from the distant borders of. 
 the Transvaal, a weary way off. These 
 ostriches were the family pets, and were 
 going to be sold and sent to England. 
 The travelers "trekkers" is the cor- 
 rect word expected to get at least thir-r 
 ty-five pounds each for these splendid 
 male birds in full plumage, and they 
 were probably worth much more. We 
 made a fresh start from this, and the 
 best of our way into Maritzburg before 
 the sun became too overpowering. 
 
MARITZBURG, April 4. 
 
 CAN you believe that we are crying 
 out for rain already, and anxiously 
 scanning the clouds as they bank up 
 over the high hills to the south-west ? 
 But so it is. It would be a dreadful mis- 
 fortune if the real dry weather were to 
 set in so early, and without the usual 
 heavy downfall of rain which fills the 
 tanks and spruits, and wards off the evil 
 day of a short water-supply and no grass. 
 Besides which, everybody here faithfully 
 promises pleasanter weather weather 
 more like one's preconceived idea of the 
 climate of Natal after a regular three 
 days' rain. It is high time for my tem- 
 per, as well as for the tanks that this 
 rain should come, for the slow, dragging 
 summer days are now only broken by 
 constant gales of hot wind. These same 
 hot winds are worse than anything more 
 exasperating and more exhausting nor 
 does a drop of dew fall at night to refresh 
 the fast-browning vegetation over which 
 they scatter a thick haze of dust. Hot 
 winds are bad enough in India, lived 
 through in large, airy, lofty rooms, with 
 mats of fragrant grass kept constantly 
 wet and hung at every door and window 
 with punkahs and ice, and all the neces- 
 sary luxury and idle calm of Indian life. 
 What must they be here and remember, 
 the wind is just as hot, only it blows for 
 shorter intervals, instead of continuously 
 for months in small houses, with low 
 rooms of eight or ten feet square, and in 
 a country where the mistress of the house 
 is head-cook, head-nurse, head-house- 
 maid, and even head - coachman and 
 gardener, and where a glass of cold wa- 
 ter is a luxury only dreamed of in one's 
 feverish slumbers ? Nature demands 
 that we should all be lotos-eaters and lie 
 "propt on beds of amaranth and moly " 
 at all events from November to April. 
 Necessity insists on our rising early and 
 going to bed late, and eating the bread 
 of carefulness during all those hot weeks. 
 68 
 
 That is to say, one must work very hard 
 one's self if one desires to have a toler- 
 ably clean and comfortable house and to 
 live in any sort of rational and civilized 
 fashion. For my part, I like hard work, 
 speaking generally, but not in a hot wind. 
 Yet people seem to be pretty well, except 
 their tempers again speaking for myself 
 so I suppose the climate is disagreeable 
 rather than actually unhealthy. 
 
 I feel it is exceedingly absurd the way 
 I dilate incessantly upon three topics 
 roads (I promise faithfully not to say a 
 word about them this time), weather (I 
 have had my grumble at that, and feel 
 all the better for it), and servants. We 
 have lately added to our establishment 
 a Kafir-girl who is a real comfort and 
 help. Ma/ia for Kafirs cannot pro- 
 nounce the letter r: "red" is always 
 "led" with them, and so on is a short, 
 fat, good-humored-looking damsel of fif- 
 teen years of age, but who looks thirty. 
 Regarded as a servant, there is still much 
 to be desired, in spite of the careful and 
 excellent training she has enjoyed in the 
 household of the bishop of Natal, but as 
 
 a playmate for G , who is teaching 
 
 her the noble game of cricket, or as a 
 nursemaid for the baby, she is indeed a 
 treasure of sweet-temper and willingness. 
 To be sure, she did race the perambula- 
 tor down a steep hill the other day, up- 
 setting the baby and breaking the small 
 vehicle into bits, but still English nurse- 
 maids do the same, and do not tell the 
 truth about it at once, as Malia did. It 
 was done to amuse the two children, and 
 answered that part of the programme 
 excellently well, even the final upset 
 eliciting peals of laughter from both the 
 mischievous monkeys. It is also rather 
 singular that in spite of the extreme 
 slowness and deliberation of her move- 
 ments she breaks quite as much crock- 
 ery in a week as any one else would in 
 a year. And she is so inexpressibly 
 quaint about it all that one has neither 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 69 
 
 the heart nor the command of counte- 
 nance requisite to scold. I handed her 
 a saucer last night to put down. The 
 next moment she remarked in her sin- 
 gularly sweet and gentle voice and pret- 
 ty, musical accent, " Now, here is the 
 saucer in three pieces." So it was ; and 
 how she broke it without dropping it 
 must ever be a mystery to me. It was 
 like a conjuring trick, but it occurs some- 
 what too often. Malia ought not to be a 
 housemaid at all, for she has a thirst for 
 knowledge which is very remarkable, 
 and a good deal of musical talent. She 
 speaks and reads three languages Ka- 
 fir, -English and Dutch with perfect 
 ease and fluency ; and is trying hard to 
 learn to write, practicing incessantly on 
 a slate ; she is always whistling or sing- 
 ing, or picking out tunes on a sort of 
 pipe, on which she plays some airs very 
 prettily. Every spare moment of her 
 time she is poring over a book, and her 
 little Kafir Bible is ever at hand. I wish 
 with all my heart that I had time to teach 
 her to write and to learn Kafir from her 
 myself, but except on Sunday, when I 
 read with her and hear her say some 
 hymns, I never have a moment. She is 
 so anxious to learn, poor girl ! that she 
 watches her opportunity, and when I sit 
 down to brush my hair or lace my boots 
 she drops on one knee by my side, pro- 
 duces her book from her pocket, and 
 says in the most calinante voice, "Sail I 
 lead to you a little, inkosa casa ?" Who 
 could have the heart to say no, although 
 my gravity is sorely tried by some pecu- 
 liarities of pronunciation ? She cannot 
 say " such :" it is too harsh, and the near- 
 est we can arrive at, after many efforts, 
 is "sush." Almost every word has a 
 vowel tacked on to the end, so as to 
 bring it as near to her own liquid, soft- 
 sounding Zulu as possible. I think what 
 upsets me most is to hear our first parents 
 perseveringly called '"Dam and Eva," 
 but indeed most of the Bible names are 
 difficult of recognition. Yet her idioms 
 are perfect, and she speaks in well- 
 chosen, rather elegant phraseology. Ev- 
 ery alternate Sunday, Malia goes down 
 to town dressed in the smartest of bright 
 pink cotton frocks, made very full and 
 
 very short, a clean white apron, and a 
 sky-blue kerchief arranged on her head 
 in a becoming turban. Malia's shy grins 
 of delight and pride as she comes thus 
 arrayed to make me her parting curtsey 
 are quite charming to behold, and dis- 
 play a set of teeth which it would be 
 hard to match for beauty anywhere out 
 of Kafirland. Indeed, all these people 
 seem to possess most exquisite teeth, and 
 they take great care of them, rinsing 
 their mouths and polishing thes'e even, 
 glistening pearls at every opportunity. 
 
 The more I see of the Kafirs, the more 
 I like them. People tell me they are 
 unreliable, but I find them gay and 
 good-humored, docile and civil. Every 
 cowherd on the veldt has his pretty 
 "sako" bow (phonetic spelling again, 
 on my part) as he passes me when I am 
 fern "or grass -seed hunting in the early 
 morning, and I hear incessant peals of 
 laughter from kitchen and stable. Of 
 course, laughter probably means idle- 
 ness, but I have not the heart to go out 
 every time (as indeed I ought, I believe) 
 and make them, as Mr. Toots calls it, 
 " resume their studies." Their mirth is 
 very different from that of my old friends 
 the West Indian negroes, who are always 
 chattering and grinning. The true Ka- 
 firs wear a stolid expression of counte- 
 nance in public, and are not easily moved 
 to signs of surprise or amusement, but at 
 home they seem to me a very merry and 
 sociable people. Work is always a dif- 
 ficulty and a disagreeable to them, and 
 I fear that many generations must pass 
 before a Kafir will do a hand's turn more 
 than is actually necessary to keep his 
 body and soul together. They are very 
 easily trained as domestic servants, in 
 spite of the drawback of not understand- 
 ing half what is said to them, and they 
 make especially good grooms. The most 
 discouraging part of the training process, 
 however, is that it is wellnigh perpetual, 
 for except gypsies I don't believe there 
 is on the face of the earth a more rest- 
 less, unsettled human being than your 
 true Kafir. Change he seems to crave 
 for, and change he will have, acknow- 
 ledging half his time that he knows it 
 must be for the worse. He will leave a 
 
7 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 comfortable, easy place, where he is well 
 treated and perfectly happy, for harder 
 work, and often blows, just for the sake 
 of a change. No kindness can attach 
 him, except in the rarest instances, and 
 nothing upon earth could induce him to 
 forego his periodical visits to his own 
 kraal. This means a return, for the time 
 being, to barbarism, which seems very 
 strange when a man has had time to get 
 accustomed to clothes and a good room 
 and good food, and the hundred and one 
 tastes which civilization teaches. Imag- 
 ine laying aside the comforts and decen- 
 cies of life to creep in at the low door of 
 a big beehive, and squat naked round 
 a huge fire, smoking filthy tobacco and 
 drinking a kind of beer which is made 
 from mealies ! I've often seen this beer, 
 and Charlie is very anxious I should 
 taste it, bringing me some occasionally 
 in an old biscuit-tin with assurances that 
 "Ma"' will find it very good. But I 
 cannot get beyond looking at it, for it is 
 difficult to associate the idea of beer with 
 a thick liquid resembling dirty chocolate 
 more than anything else. So I always 
 stave off the evil day of tasting with ingeni- 
 ous excuses. 
 
 Perhaps the Kafirs are more behind- 
 hand in medical faith than in any other 
 respect. The other day one of our Ka- 
 firs had a bad bilious attack, and, de- 
 clining all offers of more civilized treat- 
 ment, got one of his own physicians to 
 bleed him in the great toe, with, as he 
 declared, the happiest effect. Certain it 
 is that in the afternoon he reported him- 
 self as perfectly well. But the most ex- 
 traordinary kind of remedy came be- 
 fore me quite lately. Tom had a fright- 
 ful headache, which is not to be wonder- 
 ed at, considering how that boy smokes 
 the strongest tobacco out of a cow's horn 
 morning, noon and night, to say noth- 
 ing of incessant snuff-taking. The first 
 I heard of Tom's headache was when 
 Charlie came to ask me for a remedy ; 
 which I thought very nice on his part, 
 because he and Tom live in a chronic 
 state of quarreling, and half my time is 
 taken up in keeping the peace between 
 them. However, I told Charlie that I 
 knew of no remedy for a bad headache 
 
 except going to bed, and that was what 
 I should advise Tom to do. Charlie 
 smiled rather contemptuously, as if pity- 
 ing my ignorance, and asked if I would 
 give him a box of wooden matches. Now, 
 matches are a standing grievance in a 
 Kafir establishment, and go at the rate 
 of a box a day if not carefully locked 
 up; so I, failing to connect wooden 
 matches and Tom's headache together, 
 began a reproachful catalogue of how 
 many boxes he had asked for lately. 
 Charlie, however, hastily cut me short 
 by saying, "But, ma', it for make Tom 
 well." So of course I produced a box of 
 Bryant May, and stood by to watch 
 Charlie doctoring Tom. Match after 
 match did Charlie strike, holding the 
 flaming splinter up Tom's exceedingly 
 wide nostrils, until the box was empty. 
 Tom winced a good deal, but bore this 
 singeing process with great fortitude. Ev- 
 ery now and then he cried out, as well 
 he might, when Charley thrust a freshly- 
 lighted match up his nose, but on the 
 whole he stood it bravely, and by the 
 time the matches were all burned out he 
 declared his headache was quite cured, 
 and that he was ready to go and chop 
 wood; nor would he listen to the idea 
 of going to bed. " It very good stuff to 
 smell, ma'," said Charlie: "it burn de 
 sickness away." Kafirs are inexpress- 
 ibly queer, too, about their domestic ar- 
 rangements ; and I had a long argument 
 with a Kafir-woman only the other day, 
 through Malia's interpretation, as to the 
 propriety of killing one of her babies 
 when she chanced to have twins. My 
 dusky friend declared it was much the 
 best plan, and one which was always fol- 
 lowed when the whites did not interfere. 
 If both children were kept alive, she 
 averred they would both be wretched, 
 puny little creatures, and would be quite 
 sure to die eventually; so, as a Kafir 
 looks to his children to take care of and 
 work for him, even in his middle age, 
 the sons by their wages, the daughters 
 by their dowries, or rather by the prices 
 paid for them, she declared it was very 
 bad economy to try and rear two babies 
 at once, and calmly recapitulated the in- 
 stances in her own and her neighbors' 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 families where one wretched twin had 
 been killed to give the other a better 
 chance. She confessed she had been 
 much puzzled upon one occasion when 
 the twins were a girl and a boy, for both 
 would have been useful hereafter. " I 
 thought of the cows I should get for the 
 girl," she said, "and then I thought of 
 the boy's wages, and I didn't know which 
 to keep ; but the girl, she cry most, so I 
 kill her, and the boy grow up very good 
 boy earn plenty money." That was 
 Malia's interpretation, for, although she 
 speaks excellent English, when another 
 person's words have to be reproduced 
 her tenses get a little confused and jum- 
 bled up. But she is a capital mouth- 
 piece, and it always amuses me to bar- 
 gain, through her, for my eggs and chick- 
 ens and mealies. Sorry bargaining it is, 
 generally resulting in my paying double 
 the market-price for these commodities. 
 Lately I have been even more fleeced 
 than usual, especially by my egg-man, 
 who is an astute old Kafir, very much 
 adorned with circlets of copper wire on 
 his legs and arms. He brings his eggs 
 in a bag, which he swings about so reck- 
 lessly that it is a perpetual marvel to me 
 how they escape annihilation. Every 
 time he comes he adds threepence to the 
 price of his eggs per dozen on account 
 of the doubled hut-tax ; and I assure 
 him that in time it will end in my having 
 paid the whole amount instead of him. 
 Hitherto, the natives have paid a tax of 
 seven shillings per annum on each hut, 
 but this year it has been doubled ; so the 
 Kafirs very sensibly make their white 
 customers pay a heavy percentage on 
 the necessaries of life with which they 
 supply them. It is exactly what it used 
 to be in London three or four years ago, 
 when coals were so costly : everything 
 rose in price, from china vases down to 
 hairpins ; so now this doubled hut-tax is 
 the excuse for a sudden rise in the value 
 of eggs, fowls, cows, mealies and what 
 not. I don't understand political econ- 
 omy myself, but it always seems to me 
 a curious fact that although every article 
 of food or clothing is only too ready to 
 jump up in price' on the smallest excuse, 
 it never copies down again. I try to chaff 
 
 my old Kafir egg-merchant, and show 
 him by figures that his extra charge for 
 eggs pays his extra seven shillings in 
 about six weeks. I endeavor to per- 
 suade him, after this increased tax is thus 
 provided for, to go back to his original 
 price, but he smiles knowingly and shakes 
 his head, murmuring, " Ka, ka," which 
 appears to mean "No." 
 
 All this time, however, I am longing 
 to tell you of a famous tea-party I have 
 had here lately a regular "drum," only 
 it beat all the London teas hollow, even 
 with dear little "Minas"* thrown into 
 the bargain, because in the corner of 
 my cards were the words "Tea and 
 witches." Now, I ask you, could any 
 one wish for a greater excitement than 
 that to enliven a summer afternoon ? At- 
 tractive as was the bait, it was a blunder 
 or a fib which you choose for, so far 
 from being witches, my five extraordi- 
 nary performers were the sworn enemies 
 of witches, being, in fact, "witch-find- 
 ers," or "witch-doctors," as they are just 
 as often called. I am quite sure that no 
 one has ever suffered so much anxiety 
 about a small entertainment as I did 
 about that tea-party. Of course, there 
 was the usual thunderstorm due that 
 afternoon, and not until the last moment, 
 when the clouds rolled off toward the 
 Umgeni valley, leaving us a glorious sky 
 and a pleasant breeze, did I cease to fear 
 that the whole thing might prove a fiasco. 
 By the time I had begun to have con- 
 fidence in the weather came a distracted 
 message from the obliging neighbor who 
 supplies me with milk, to say that, as ill- 
 luck would have it, her cows had select- 
 ed this particular afternoon of all the 
 year to stray away and get themselves 
 impounded, and that consequently the 
 delivery of sundry bottles (everything is 
 sold in bottles here) of new milk was as 
 uncertain as what shall I say ? Natal 
 weather, for nothing can be more un- 
 certain than that. Imagine my dismay ! 
 No one even dared to suggest preserved 
 milk to me, so well known is my antip- 
 athy to that miserable makeshift. I 
 should have sat me down and wept if at 
 
 * A wonderful performing dog exhibited by Ma- 
 dame Hager, and much in request last season. 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 that moment I had not discovered a small 
 herd of cattle wending their way across 
 the veldt to my neighbor's gate. Oh 
 joy ! the milk and the weather were all 
 right ! But what was that enormous mob 
 of shouting, singing Kafirs clamoring 
 outside my garden fence ? They were 
 my witch-finders, escorted by nearly the 
 whole black population of Maritzburg : 
 they had arrived about three hours be- 
 fore the proper time, and were asking for 
 some place to dress in, not from any fastid- 
 iousness, but simply because they didn't 
 want profane eyes to witness the details 
 of assuming their professional decora- 
 tions. Remember, there was not a white 
 man nearer than Maritzburg, and there 
 was nothing upon earth to prevent any 
 number of these excited, shouting men 
 and boys from walking into my little 
 house, or at least helping themselves to 
 anything off the tea-tables, which the 
 servants were beginning to arrange in 
 the verandah. But they were as docile 
 and obedient as possible, readily acced- 
 ing to my desire that they should remain 
 outside the fence, and asking for nothing 
 except copious draughts of water. Cer- 
 tainly, I was armed with a talisman, for 
 I went out to them myself, with one of 
 my numerous "Jacks " as an interpreter, 
 and told them they must all sit down 
 
 and wait patiently until Mr. S (their 
 
 own beloved inkosi) came, adding that 
 he would be there immediately. That 
 was a fih, for he could not come until 
 late, but an excellent substitute very soon 
 appeared and set my mind partly at rest. 
 I say, only "partly," because I had been 
 
 so teased about my party. F had 
 
 been especially aggravating, observing 
 from time to time that my proceedings 
 were at once illegal and improper, add- 
 ing that " he was surprised at me." Can 
 you imagine anything more trying ? And 
 yet I knew quite well all the time that he 
 was just as anxious to see these people 
 as we were, only he persisted in being 
 semi-official and disagreeable. Never 
 mind : I triumphed over him afterward, 
 when it all went off so well. When I 
 had leisure to think of anything but 
 whether there would be a riot or not, I 
 had horrible misgivings about the com- 
 
 pulsory scantiness of my invitations. I 
 should have liked to ask all my acquaint- 
 ances, as well as the few friends I had 
 invited, but what is one to do with a 
 doll's house and a dozen tea - cups ? 
 Those were my resources, and I taxed 
 them to the uttermost as it was. One 
 cannot hire things here, and I had no 
 place to put them if I could ; but it is 
 horrid to feel, as I did, that heaps of 
 people must have wondered why they 
 were left out. 
 
 At last five o'clock came, bringing with 
 it a regiment of riders, thirsting for tea 
 and clamorous to see the witches, want- 
 ing their fortunes told, their lost trinkets 
 found, and Heaven knows what besides. 
 "They are not witches at all," I said 
 gravely : " they are witch-finders, and I 
 believe the whole thing is very wrong." 
 There was a depressing announcement 
 for one's hostess to make ! But it had a 
 good effect for the moment, and sent my 
 guests quietly off to console themselves 
 with their tea : that, at least, could not 
 be wrong, especially as the milk had'ar- 
 rived, new and delicious. In the mean 
 
 time, kind Mr. F had gone off to 
 
 fetch the witches, as everybody persist- 
 ed in calling them, and presently they 
 appeared in full official dress, walking 
 along in a measured, stately step, keep- 
 ing time and tune to the chanting of a 
 body-guard of girls and women who sang 
 continuously, in a sort of undertone, a 
 montonous kind of march. They made 
 an excellent stage-entrance grave, com- 
 posed, erect of carriage and dauntless of 
 mien. These Amazonian women walk- 
 ed past the verandah, raising their hand, 
 as the men do, with the low cry of " In- 
 kosi !" in salutation. Their pride is to 
 be looked upon as men when once they 
 take up this dread profession, which is 
 also shared with them by men. They 
 are permitted to bear shield and spear 
 as warriors, and they hunt and kill with 
 their own hands the wild beasts and rep- 
 tiles whose skins they wear. Their day 
 is over and ended, however, for the cru- 
 elties practiced under their, auspices had 
 risen to a great height, and it is now 
 against the law to seek out a witch by 
 means of these pitiless women. It is not 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 73 
 
 difficult to understand bearing in mind 
 the superstition and cruelty which exist- 
 ed in remote parts of England not so 
 very long ago how powerful such wo- 
 men became among a savage people, or 
 how tempting an opportunity they could 
 furnish of getting rid of an enemy. Of 
 course, they are exceptional individuals, 
 more observant, more shrewd and more 
 dauntless than the average fat, hard- 
 working Kafir-women, besides possess- 
 ing the contradictory mixture of great 
 physical powers and strong hysterical 
 tendencies. They work themselves up 
 to a pitch of frenzy, and get to believe 
 as firmly in their own supernatural dis- 
 cernment as any individual among the 
 trembling circle of Zulus to whom a 
 touch from the whisk they carry in their 
 hands is a sentence of instant death. It 
 gave a certain grim interest to what a 
 Scotch friend called the " ploy " to know 
 that it had once been true, and I begged 
 
 Mr. F to explain to them before they 
 
 began that the only reason I had wanted 
 to see them arose from pure curiosity to 
 know what they looked like, how they were 
 dressed, and so forth, and that I quite 
 understood that it was all nonsense and 
 very wrong and against the law to do, 
 really, but that this was only a play and 
 pretence. Shall I confess that I felt rath- 
 er ashamed at making this public avowal ? 
 But my conscience demanded it clamor- 
 ously, and I felt many misgivings lest 
 I should indeed be causing any "weak 
 brother to offend." However, it was too 
 late now for scruples, and a sort of shout 
 came up from the good-humored, well- 
 behaved crowd outside, assuring me they 
 knew it was only for fun and that it was 
 quite right, and they were glad for the 
 English " inkosa-casa " and her friends 
 to see an old custom which it was a good 
 thing to have done with. This little 
 speech, so full of true tact, put me at 
 my ease at once, and we all took up our 
 position at one side of the little semi- 
 circular lawn, where the dance-crescent 
 was already formed, supplying ourselves 
 the place of the supposed ring of spec- 
 tators and victims. 1 wish I could make 
 you see the scene as I saw it, and shall 
 ever see it when I look back upon it. 
 
 The first original "tail" of my witch- 
 finders had been supplemented by a 
 crowd of people who formed a back- 
 ground, keeping perfectly quiet, and, 
 though uninvited and unexpected, giv- 
 ing not the slightest trouble. That is the 
 odd part of a colony: individuals are 
 rougher, less polite and more brusque 
 and overbearing than the people one 
 is accustomed to see in England, but the 
 moment it comes to a great concourse of 
 people, then the absolute respectability 
 of class asserts itself, and the crowd 
 the "rough" element being conspicuous 
 by its absence is far more orderly than 
 any assemblage of a dozen people else- 
 where. Imagine a villa at Wimbledon or 
 Putney, and some four or five hundred 
 uninvited people calmly walking into the 
 grounds to look at something they wish- 
 ed to see, without a ghost of a policeman 
 or authority in charge ! Yet that was our 
 predicament for an hour or two, and not 
 a leaf or rosebud or blade of grass was 
 touched or injured in any way, nor was 
 there a sound to be heard to mar the 
 tranquil beauty of that summer evening. 
 It was indeed "a beauteous evening, 
 calm and free " in spite of my chronic 
 state of grumbling at the climate and 
 weather, I must acknowledge that an 
 evening which might have been made 
 to order. Recent rains had washed the 
 surrounding hills, brightened the dust- 
 laden grass to green once more, and fresh- 
 ened up everything. The amphitheatre 
 of rising ground which surrounds Mar- 
 itzburg had never looked more beautiful, 
 with purple and blue shadows passing 
 over it from the slow-sailing clouds above. 
 Toward the west the sky was gently 
 taking that peculiar amethystic glow 
 which precedes a fine sunset, and the 
 sun itself laid long, parting lances of 
 pure golden light across hill and dale 
 around. A fresh air came up from the 
 south, blowing softly across the downs, 
 and sleepy, picturesque little Maritzburg 
 empty for the afternoon of its inhabit- 
 ants, I should fancy nestled cozily up 
 against the undulating ground opposite. 
 Then, to come nearer home, just outside 
 our sod-fence a line of dusky faces rose 
 above the ferns and waving grasses 
 
74 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 faces whose gleaming eyes were riveted 
 on the performers within. The little 
 drive and garden-paths were crowded 
 with strangers, white and colored all, 
 as I said before, perfectly quiet and 
 orderly, but evidently interested and 
 amused. A semicircle of girls and wo- 
 men some in gay civilized garb, some 
 in coarsest drapery, some with drowsy 
 babies hung at their backs, some with 
 bright beads on wrist and neck, but all 
 earnest and intent on their part stood 
 like the chorus of a Greek play, beating 
 their hands together and singing a low 
 monotonous chant, the measure and 
 rhythm of which changed every now 
 and again with a stamp and a swing. A 
 pace or two in front of these singers were 
 the witch-finders in full ceremonial dress. 
 Collectively, they are known by the name 
 of the "Izinyanga" or "Abangoma," 
 but each had of course her distinctive 
 name, and each belonged to a separate 
 tribe. Conspicuous from her great height, 
 Nozinyanga first caught my eye, her 
 floating, helmet-like plume of the tail- 
 feathers of the saka-bula bird shading 
 her fierce face, made still more gruesome 
 by wafers of red paint on cheek and 
 brow. In her right hand she held a 
 light sheaf of assegais or lances, and on 
 her left arm was slung a small pretty 
 shield of dappled ox hide. Her petti- 
 coat was less characteristic than that of 
 her sister-performers, being made of a 
 couple of large gay handkerchiefs worn 
 kiltwise. But she made up for the short- 
 comings of characteristic decoration in 
 her skirts by the splendor of the bead 
 necklaces and armlets, fringes of goat's 
 hair and scarlet tassels, with which she 
 was covered from throat to waist. A 
 baldric of leopard skin was fastened 
 across her capacious chest, and down her 
 back hung a beautifully dried and flat- 
 tened skin of an enormous boa constrict- 
 or. This creature must have been of a 
 prodigious length, for, whilst its hooded 
 head was fastened at the broad nape of 
 Nozinyanga's neck, its tail dragged some 
 two feet or so on the ground behind her. 
 Now, Nozinyanga stood something like 
 six feet two inches on her bare feet, but 
 although I first looked at her, attracted 
 
 j by her tall stature and defiant pose, the 
 proceedings were really opened by a 
 small, lithe woman with a wonderfully 
 pathetic, wistful face, who seemed more 
 in earnest than her big sisters, and who 
 in her day must doubtless have brushed 
 away many a man's life with the quag- 
 ga's tail she brandished so lightly. 
 
 To make you understand the terrible in- 
 terest attaching to these women, I ought 
 to explain to you here that it used to be the 
 custom whenever anything went wrong, 
 either politically or socially, among the 
 Zulus and other tribes, to attribute the 
 shortcomings to witch-agency. The next 
 step to be taken, after coming to this res- 
 olution, was to seek out and destroy the 
 witch or witches ; and for this purpose a 
 great meeting would be summoned by 
 order of the king and under his super- 
 intendence, and a large ring of natives 
 would sit trembling and in fear of their 
 lives on the ground. In the centre of 
 these danced the witch-finders or witch- 
 doctors ; and as they gradually lashed 
 themselves up to a frantic state of frenzy 
 bordering, in fact, on demoniacal pos- 
 session they lightly switched with their 
 quagga tail one or other of the quivering 
 spectators. No sooner had the fatal brush 
 passed over the victim than he was drag- 
 ged away and butchered on the spot ; and 
 not only he, but all the live things in his 
 hut wives and children, dogs and cats 
 not a stick left standing or a living 
 creature breathing. Sometimes a whole 
 kraal was exterminated in this fashion ; 
 and it need not be told what a method 
 it became of gratifying private revenge 
 and paying off old scores. Of all the 
 blessings, so unwillingly and grudgingly 
 admitted, which ever so partial a civiliza- 
 tion has brought to these difficult, lazy, 
 and yet pugnacious Kafir people, none 
 can be greater, surely, than the rule 
 which strictly forbids this sort of Lynch 
 law from being carried out anywhere, 
 under any circumstances, by these priest- 
 esses of a cruel faith. Now, perhaps, you 
 see why there was such a strong under- 
 current of interest and excitement be- 
 neath the light laughter and frolic of our 
 summer-afternoon tea-party. 
 
 Nozilwane was the name of this tern- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA, 
 
 75 
 
 ble little sorceress, who frightened more 
 than one of us more thoroughly than we 
 should like to acknowledge, peering up 
 in our faces, as she hung about the group 
 of guests, with a weird and wistful glance 
 which was both uncanny and uncomfort- 
 able. She was really beautifully dressed 
 for her part in lynx skins folded over and 
 ever from waist to knee, and the upper 
 part of her body covered by strings of 
 wild beasts' teeth and fangs, skeins of 
 brilliantly - hued yarn, beads, strips of 
 snake skin and fringes of Angora goat 
 fleece. This was a singularly effective 
 and graceful decoration, worn round the 
 body and above each elbow, and falling 
 in soft white flakes among the gay color- 
 ing and against the dusky skin. Lynx 
 tails hung down like lappets on each side 
 of her face, which was overshadowed, al- 
 most hidden, by the profusion of saka- 
 bula feathers. This bird has a very beau- 
 tiful plumage, and is sufficiently rare for 
 the natives to attach a peculiar value and 
 charm to the tail-feathers. They are like 
 those of a young cock, curved and slen- 
 der, and of a dark-chestnut color, with a 
 white eye at the extreme tip of each fea- 
 ther. Among this floating, thick plumage 
 small bladders were interspersed, and 
 skewers and pins fashioned out of tusks. 
 All the witch-finders wear their own hair 
 (or rather wool) alike ; that is, highly 
 greased and twisted up with twine until 
 it loses the appearance of hair complete- 
 ly, and hangs around their faces like a 
 thick fringe dyed deep red. 
 
 Nozilwane stepped out with a creeping, 
 cat-like gesture, bent double, as if she 
 were seeking out a trail. Every move- 
 ment of her undulating body kept time 
 to the beat of the girls' hands and the 
 low, crooning chant. Presently, she af- 
 fected to find the clew she sought, and 
 sprang aloft with a series of wild pirou- 
 ettes, shaking her spears and brandish- 
 ing her little shield in a frenzied fashion. 
 But Nomaruso, albeit much taller and in 
 less good condition than the lady of the 
 lynx skins, was determined that she 
 should not remain the cynosure of our 
 eyes; and she too, with a yell and a 
 caper, cut into the dance to the sound 
 of louder grunts and faster hand-claps. 
 
 Nomaruso turned her back to us a good 
 deal in her performances, conscious of a 
 magnificent snake skin, studded besides 
 in a regular pattern with brass-headed 
 nails, which floated like a streamer down 
 her back. She wore a magnificcnty^0# 
 of leopard skins decorated with red ro- 
 settes, and her toilette was altogether 
 more recherche and artistic than any of 
 the others. Her bangles were brighter, 
 her goat fringes whiter, and her face 
 more carefully painted. Yet Nozilwane 
 held her own gallantly in virtue of being 
 a mere bag of bones, and also having 
 youth and a firm belief in herself on her 
 side. The others, though they all joined 
 in hunting out a phantom foe, and tri- 
 umphed over his discovery in turn, were 
 soon breathless and exhausted, and glad 
 to be led away by some of the attendant 
 women to be anointed and to drink wa- 
 ter. Besides which, they were all of a 
 certain age, and less inclined to frisk 
 about than the agile Nozilwane. As for 
 great big Nozinyanga, she danced like 
 Queen Elizabeth, " high and disposedly ;" 
 and no wonder, for I should think she 
 weighed at least fifteen stone. Umgiteni, 
 in a petticoat of white Angora skin and 
 a corsage of bladders and teeth, beads 
 and viper skins, was nothing remarkable ; 
 nor was Umanonjazzla, a melancholy- 
 looking woman with an enormous wig- 
 like coiffure of red woolen ringlets and 
 white skewers. Her physiognomy, too, 
 was a trifle more stolid and common- 
 place than that of her comrades ; and al- 
 together she gave me the impression of 
 being a sensible, respectable woman who 
 was very much ashamed of herself for 
 playing such antics. However, she bran- 
 dished her divining-brush with the rest, 
 and cut-in now and then to "keep the 
 flure " with the untiring Nozilwane. 
 
 All this time the chanting and hand- 
 beating never ceased, the babies dozed 
 placidly behind their mothers' backs, and 
 we all began to think fondly of a second 
 cup of tea. The sun had now quite 
 dropped behind the high hills to the 
 west, and was sending long rays right 
 up across the tranquil sky. We felt we 
 had enough of imaginary witch-finding, 
 and looked about for some means of 
 
7 6 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 ending the affair. " Let us test their 
 powers of finding things," said one of 
 the party : " I have lost a silver pipe- 
 stem, which I value much." So the five 
 wise women were bidden to discover what 
 was lost, and where it was to be found. 
 They set about this in a curious and in- 
 teresting way, which reminded one of the 
 children's game of "magic music." In 
 the first place, it was a relief to know 
 there were not any ghastly recollections 
 attached to this performance ; and in the 
 next, one could better understand by the 
 pantomime what they were about. In front 
 of us squatted on heels and haunches a 
 semicircle of about a dozen men, who 
 were supposed to have invoked the aid 
 of the sisterhood to find some lost prop- 
 erty. These men, however, did not in 
 the least know what was asked for, and 
 were told to go on with their part until a 
 signal was given that the article had been 
 named. They were all highly respect- 
 able head-men "indunas," in fact 
 each worth a good herd of cows at least, 
 and much portable property. In every- 
 day life it would have been hard to beat 
 them for shrewd common sense. Yet it 
 was easy to perceive that the old savage 
 instincts and beliefs were there strong as 
 ever, and that though they affected to take 
 it all, as we did, as an afternoon's frolic, 
 they were firm believers in the mystic 
 power of the Abangoma, else they never 
 could have played their parts so well, so 
 eagerly and with such vivid interest. 
 
 "What is it the inkosi has lost?" they 
 cried. "Discover, reveal, make plain to 
 us." 
 
 It was a good moment in which to try 
 the experiment, because all the singing 
 and dancing had worked the Izinyanga 
 up to a high pitch of enthusiasm and ex- 
 citement, and the inspiration was held 
 to be complete; so, without hesitation, 
 Nomaruso accepted the men's challenge 
 and cried, "Sing for me: make a ca- 
 dence for me." Then, after a moment's 
 hesitation, she went on in rapid, broken 
 utterance, " Is this real ? is it a test ? is 
 it but a show ? do the white chiefs want 
 to laugh at our pretensions? Has the 
 white lady called us only to show other 
 white people that we can do nothing ? Is 
 
 anything really lost? is it not hidden? 
 No, it is lost. Is it lost by a black person ? 
 No, a white person has lost it. Is it lost by 
 the great white chief?" (meaning their 
 own King of Hearts, their native minis- 
 ter). " No, it is lost by an ordinary white 
 man. Let me see what it is that is lost. 
 Is it money ? No. Is it a weighty thing ? 
 No, it can be always carried about : it is 
 not heavy. All people like to carry it, 
 especially the white inkosi. It is made 
 of the same metal as money. I could 
 tell you more, but there is no earnestness 
 in all this : it is only a spectacle." 
 
 Between each of these short sentences 
 the seeress made a pause and eagerly 
 scanned the faces of the men before her. 
 For safe reply they gave a loud, simul- 
 taneous snap of their finger and thumb, 
 pointing toward the ground as they did 
 so and shouting but one word, "Y-i-z- 
 wa !" (the first syllable tremendously ac- 
 cented and drawn out), "discover re- 
 veal." That is all they can say to urge 
 her on, for in this case they know not 
 themselves; but the priestesses watch 
 their countenances eagerly to see if hap- 
 pily there may be, consciously or uncon- 
 sciously, some sign or token whether, as 
 children say in their games, they are 
 "hot" or not. 
 
 Nomaruso will say no more she sus- 
 pects a trick but Nozilwane rushes about 
 like one possessed, sobbing and quiver- 
 ing with excitement. " It is this it is 
 that." Gigantic Nozinyanga strikes her 
 lance firmly into the ground and cries 
 haughtily, in her own tongue, " It is his 
 watch," looking round as though she 
 dared us to contradict her. The other 
 three join hands and gallopade round 
 and round, making the most impossible 
 suggestions; but the "inquirers." as the 
 kneeling men are called, give them no 
 clew or help, nothing but the rapid finger- 
 snap, the hand pointed sternly down to 
 the ground, as though they were to seek 
 it there, and the fast-following cry, " Yiz- 
 wa, yizwa !" 
 
 At last Nozilwane has it: "His pipe." 
 ("Yizwa, yizwa!") "A thing which has 
 come off his pipe ;" and so it is. Nozil- 
 wane's pluck and perseverance and cun- 
 ning watching of our faces at each hit 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 77 
 
 she made have brought her off triumph- 
 antly. A grunt and a murmur of admi- 
 ration go round. The indunas jump up 
 and subside into ebony images of im- 
 passive respectability ; the chorus, sore- 
 ly weary by this time, breaks up into 
 knots, and the weird sisterhood drop as 
 if by one accord on their knees, sitting 
 back on their heels, before me, raise 
 their right hands in salutation and deliv- 
 er themselves of a little speech, of which 
 this is as close a translation as it is pos- 
 sible to get of so dissimilar a language : 
 " Messages were sent to us at our kraals 
 that an English lady wished to see us 
 and witness our customs. When we 
 heard these messages our hearts said, 
 1 Go to the English lady.' So we have 
 come, and now our hearts are filled with 
 pleasure at having seen this lady, and 
 ourselyes heard her express her thanks 
 to us. We would also, on our part, thank 
 the lady for her kindness and her pres- 
 ents. White people do not believe in our 
 powers, and think that we are mad ; but 
 still we know it is not so, and that we 
 really have the powers we profess. So 
 it comes that we are proud this day at 
 being allowed to show ourselves before 
 our great white chief and so many great 
 white people. We thank the lady again ; 
 
 and say for us, O son of Mr. F ! that 
 
 we wish her ever to dwell in peace, and 
 we desire for her that her path may have 
 light." It was not easy to find anything 
 equally pretty to say in return for this, but 
 I, in my turn, invoked the ready wit and 
 
 fluent tongue of the " son of Mr. F ," 
 
 and I dare say he turned out, as if from 
 me, something very neat and creditable. 
 So we were all mutually pleased with 
 each other ; only I was haunted all the 
 time of this pretty speech-making by the 
 recollection of a quaint saying, often used 
 by a funny old Scotch nurse we had when 
 we were children : I don't think I have 
 ever heard it since, but it darted into my 
 mind with my first platitude : " When 
 gentlefolks meet compliments pass." 
 We were all anxious to outdo each oth- 
 er in politeness, but unless my niaiserics 
 gained a good deal by being changed 
 into Zulu, I fear the witch-finders did 
 the best in that line. 
 
 The twilight, sadly short now, was fast 
 coming on, and all the black people were 
 anxious to get back to their homes. Al- 
 ready the crowd of spectators had melted 
 away like magic, streaming down the 
 green hillsides by many a different track : 
 only a remnant of the body-guard linger- 
 ed to escort the performers home. As 
 they passed the corner of the verandah 
 where the tea-table was set, I fancied 
 they glanced wistfully at the cakes ; so 
 I rather timidly handed a substantial bis- 
 cuit, as big as a saucer, to the huge No- 
 zinyanga, who graciously accepted it as 
 joyfully as a child would. Another little 
 black hand was thrust out directly, and 
 yet another, and so the end was that the 
 tea-tables were cleared, then and there, 
 of all the eatables ; and it was not until ev- 
 ery dish was empty that the group moved 
 on, raising a parting cry of " Inkosa 
 casa !" and a sort of cheer or attempt at 
 a cheer. They were so unfeignedly de- 
 lighted with this sudden " happy thought" 
 about the cakes and biscuits that it was 
 quite a pleasure to see them, so good- 
 humored and docile, moving off the mo- 
 ment they saw I really had exhausted my 
 store, with pretty gestures of gratitude and 
 thanks. We had to content ourselves with 
 bread and butter with our second cups 
 of tea, but we were so tired and thirsty, 
 and so glad of a little rest and quiet, that 
 I don't think we missed the cakes. 
 
 As we sat there enjoying the last love- 
 ly gleams of daylight and chatting over 
 the strange, weird scene, we could just 
 hear the distant song of the escort as they 
 took the tired priestesses home, and we 
 all fell to talking of the custom when it 
 was in all its savage force. Many of the 
 friends present had seen or heard terri- 
 ble instances of the wholesale massacre 
 which wo~uld have followed just such an 
 exhibition as this had it been in earnest. 
 But I will repeat for you some of the less 
 ghastly stories. One shall be modern 
 and one' ancient as ancient as half a 
 century ago, which is ancient for modern 
 tradition. The modern one is the tamest, 
 so it shall come first. 
 
 Before the law was passed making 
 it wrong to consult these Izinyanga or 
 witch-doctors a servant belonging to one 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 of the English settlers lost his savings, 
 some three or four pounds. He sus- 
 pected one of his fellow-servants of be- 
 ing the thief, summoned the Izinyanga, 
 and requested his master to " assist " at 
 the ceremony. All the other servants 
 were bidden to assemble themselves, and 
 to do exactly what the witch-finder bade 
 them. She had them seated in a row in 
 front of her, and ordered them, one and 
 all, to bare their throats and chests, for, 
 you must remember, they were clothed 
 as the law obliges them to be in the 
 towns in a shirt and knickerbockers. 
 This they did, the guilty one with much 
 trepidation, you may be sure, and she 
 fixed her eyes on that little hollow in the 
 neck where the throat joins the body, 
 watching carefully the accelerated pul- 
 sation : " It is thou : no, it is not. It must 
 then be you ;"^and so on, dodging about, 
 pointing first to one, and then rapidly 
 wheeling round to fix on another, until 
 the wretched criminal was so nervous 
 that when she made one of her sudden 
 descents upon him, guided by the be- 
 wraying pulse, which fluttered and throb- 
 bed with anxiety and terror, he was fain 
 to throw up his hands and confess, pray- 
 ing for mercy. In this case the Izin- 
 yanga was merely a shrewd, observant 
 woman with a strong spice of the detec- 
 tive in her; but they are generally re- 
 garded not only as sorceresses, whose 
 superior incantations can discover and 
 bring to light the machinations of the 
 ordinary witch, but as priestesses of a 
 dark and obscure faith. 
 
 The other instance of their discern- 
 ment we talked of happened some fifty 
 years ago, when Chaka the Terrible was 
 king of the Zulus. The political power 
 of these Izinyanga had then reached a 
 great height in Zululand, and they were 
 in the habit of denouncing as witches 
 or rather wizards one after the other of 
 the king's ministers and chieftains. It 
 was difficult to put a stop to these whole- 
 sale murders, for the sympathy of the 
 people was always on the side of the 
 witch-finders, cruel though they were. 
 At last the king thought of an expedient. 
 He killed a bullock, and with his own 
 
 hands smeared its blood over the royal 
 hut in the dead of night. Next day he 
 summoned a council, and announced 
 that some one had been guilty of high 
 treason in defiling the king's hut with 
 blood, and that, too, when it stood, ap- 
 parently secure from outrage, in the very 
 middle of the kraal. What was to be 
 done ? The Izinyanga were summoned, 
 and commanded, on pain of death, to de- 
 clare who was the criminal. This they 
 were quite ready to do, and named with- 
 out hesitation one after another the great 
 inkosi who sat trembling around. But 
 instead of dooming the wretched victim 
 to death, the denouement closely resem- 
 bled that of the famous elegy: "The 
 dog it was that died." In other words, 
 the witch-finders who named an inkosi 
 heard to their astonishment that they 
 were to be executed and the denounced 
 victim kept alive. This went on for some 
 time, until one, cleverer than the rest, and 
 yet afraid of committinghimself too much, 
 rose up and said oracularly, " I smell the 
 heavens above." Chaka took this as a 
 compliment, as well as a guess in the right 
 direction, ordered all the remaining Izin- 
 yanga to be slain on the spot, and ap- 
 pointed the fortunate oracle to be his one 
 and only witch-finder for ever after. 
 
 Chaka's name will be remembered for 
 many and many a day in Zululand and 
 the provinces which border it by both 
 black and white. In the first decade of 
 this century, when Napoleon was mapping 
 out Europe afresh with the bayonet for a 
 stylus, and we were pouring out blood 
 and money like water to check him here 
 and there at that very time Ranpehera 
 in New Zealand and Chaka in Zululand 
 were playing a precisely similar game. 
 Here, Chaka had a wider field for his 
 Alexander -like rage for conquest, and 
 he and his wild warriors dashed over the 
 land like a mountain-stream. No place 
 was safe from him, and he was the terror 
 of the unhappy first settlers. Even now 
 his name brings a sense of uneasiness 
 with it, for it is still a spell to rouse the 
 warrior-spirit, which only sleeps in the 
 breasts of his wild subjects across the 
 border. 
 
MARITZBURG, May 10, 1876 
 
 N' O, I will not begin about the weather 
 this time. It is a great temptation 
 to do so, because this is the commence- 
 ment of the winter, and it is upon the 
 strength of the coming four months that 
 the reputation of Natal, as possessing the 
 finest climate in the world, is built. Be- 
 fore I came here meteorologists used to 
 tell me that the "average" temperature 
 of Maritzburg was so and so, mention- 
 ing something very equable and pleas- 
 ant; but then, you see, there is this little 
 difference between weather-theories and 
 the practice of the weather itself: it is 
 sadly apt to rush into extremes, and de- 
 grees of heat and cold are very different 
 when totted up and neatly spread over 
 many weeks, from the same thing bolted 
 in lumps. Then you don't catch cold on 
 paper, nor live in doubt whether-to have 
 a fire or open windows and doors. To 
 keep at all on a level with the thermom- 
 eter here, one needs to dress three or four 
 times a day ; and it is quite on the cards 
 that a muslin gown and sealskin jacket 
 may both be pleasant wear on the same 
 day. We have all got colds, and, what 
 is worse, we have all had colds more 
 or less badly for some time past; and I 
 hear that everybody else has them too. 
 Of course, this news is an immense con- 
 solation, else why should it invariably 
 be mentioned as a compensation for 
 one's own paroxysms of sneezing and 
 coughing ? 
 
 It is certainly cooler, at times quite 
 cold, but the sudden spasms of fierce 
 hot winds and the blazing sun during 
 the midday hours appear the more with- 
 ering and scorching for the contrast with 
 the lower temperature of morning and 
 evening. Still, we all keep saying (I 
 yet protest against the formula, but I've 
 no doubt I shall come round presently 
 and join heart and soul in it), " Natal has 
 the finest climate in the world," although 
 we have to go about like the man in the 
 
 fable, and either wrap our cloaks tightly 
 around us or throw them wide open to 
 breathe. But there ! I said I would not 
 go off into a meteorological report, and 
 I will not be beguiled by the attractions 
 of a grievance for there is no such satis- 
 factory grievance as weather into break- 
 ing so good a resolution. Rather let me 
 graft upon this monotonous weather- 
 grumble a laugh at the expense of poor 
 Zulu Jack, whom I found the other morn- 
 ing in a state of nervous anxiety over the 
 butter, which steadily refused to be spread 
 on 'a slice of bread for little G 's con- 
 sumption. " Have you such a thing as a 
 charm about you, lady-chief?" Jack de- 
 manded in fluent Zulu ; " for this butter 
 is assuredly bewitched. Last night I 
 could make slices of buttered bread 
 quite easily : this morning, behold it !" 
 and he exhibited his ill-used slice of 
 bread, with obstinate and isolated dabs 
 of butter sticking about it. So, you see, 
 it must be cooler; and so it is, I acknow- 
 ledge, except of a morning on which a hot 
 wind sets in before sunrise. 
 
 To show you how perfectly impartial 
 and unprejudiced even a woman can be, 
 I am going to admit that the day last 
 week on which I took a long ride to 
 Edendale a mission-station some half 
 dozen miles away was as absolutely de- 
 lightful as a day could well be. It was a 
 gray, shady day, very rare beneath these 
 sunny skies, for clouds generally mean 
 rain or fog, but this day they meant noth- 
 ing worse than the tiniest sprinkle at 
 sundown just a few big drops flirted in 
 our faces from the ragged edge of a swift- 
 ly-sailing thundercloud. There was no 
 wind to stir up the dust, and yet air 
 enough to be quite delicious: now and 
 then the sun came out from behind the 
 friendly clouds, creating exquisite effects 
 of light and shadow among the hills 
 through which our road wound. Across 
 many a little tributary of the Umsindusi, 
 by many a still green valley and round 
 79 
 
So 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 many a rocky hill-shoulder, our road lay 
 a road which for me was most pleasant- 
 ly beguiled by stories of Natal as it was 
 five-and-twenty years ago, when lions 
 came down to drink at these streams, 
 when these very plains were thickly 
 studded with buck and eland, buffalo 
 and big game whose names would be a 
 treasure of puzzledom to a spelling bee. 
 In those days no man's hand ever left 
 for an instant the lock of his trusty gun, 
 sleeping or waking, standing or sitting, 
 eating or riding. 
 
 The great want of ever so fair a land- 
 scape in these parts is timber. Here and 
 there a deeper shadow in the distant hill- 
 clefts may mean a patch of scrub, but 
 when once you pass the belt of farms 
 which girdle Maritzburg for some four 
 or five miles in every direction, and 
 leave behind their plantations of gums 
 and poplars, oaks and willows, then there 
 is nothing more to be seen but rolling hill- 
 slopes bare of bush or shrub, until the eye 
 is caught by the trees around the settle- 
 ment we are on our way to visit. It 
 stands quite far back among the hills 
 too much under their lee, in fact, to be 
 quite healthy, I should fancy, for a layer 
 of chilly, vaporous air always lurks at the 
 bottom of these folded -away valleys, 
 and breeds colds and fever and ague. 
 Still, it is all inexpressibly homelike and 
 fertile as it lies there nestling up against 
 the high, rising ground, with patches of 
 mealies spread in a green fan around and 
 following the course of the winding river 
 in tall green rustling brakes like sugar- 
 cane. The road, a fairly good one for 
 Natal, was strangely still and silent, and 
 bereft of sight or sound of animal life. 
 At one of the spruits a couple of timber- 
 wagons were outspanned, and the jaded, 
 tick-covered bullocks gave but little ani- 
 mation to the scene. Farther on, whilst 
 we cantered easily along over a wide 
 plain still rich in grass, a beautiful little 
 falcon swept across our path. Slow and 
 low was its flight, quite as though it neith- 
 er feared nor cared for us, and I had am- 
 ple time to admire its exquisite plumage 
 and its large keen eye. By and by we 
 came upon the usual " groups from the 
 antique" in bronze and ebony working 
 
 at the road, and, as usual, doing rather 
 more harm than good. But when we 
 had crossed the last streamlet and turn- 
 ed into a sort of avenue which led to the 
 main street of the settlement, then there 
 was life and movement enough and to 
 spare. Forth upon the calm air rang 
 the merry voices of children, of women 
 carrying on laughing dialogues across 
 the street, and of men's deeper -toned 
 but quite as fluent jabber. And here 
 are the speakers themselves as we leave 
 the shade of the trees and come out upon 
 the wide street rising up before us toward 
 the mountain-slope which ends its vista. 
 
 Sitting at the doors of their houses are 
 tidy, comfortable-looking men and wo- 
 men, the former busy plaiting with deft 
 and rapid movement of their little fin- 
 gers neat baskets and mats of reeds and 
 rushes the latter either cooking mealies, 
 shelling them or crushing them for the 
 market. Everywhere are mealies and 
 children. Fat black babies squat hap- 
 pily in the dust, munching the boiled 
 husk before it is shelled ; older children 
 are eqCially happy cleaning with finger 
 and tongue a big wooden spoon just out 
 of the porridge- pot ; whilst this same fa- 
 miliar pot, of every conceivable size, but 
 always of the same three-legged shape, 
 something like a gypsy-kettle, lurks more 
 or less en evidence in the neighborhood of 
 every house. No grass-thatched huts are 
 here, but thoroughly nice, respectable lit- 
 tle houses, nearly all of the same simple 
 pattern, with vermilion or yellow-ochre 
 doors, and half covered with creepers. 
 Whoever despairs of civilizing the Kafir 
 need only look here and at other simi- 
 lar stations to see how easily he adapts 
 himself to comfortable ways and cus- 
 toms, and in what a decent, orderly fash- 
 ion he can be trained to live with his 
 fellows. 
 
 Edendale is a Wesleyan mission-sta- 
 tion, and the history of its settlement 
 is rather a curious one curious from its 
 being the result of no costly organiza- 
 tion, no elaborate system of proselytism, 
 but the work of one man originally, and 
 the evident result and effect of a percep- 
 tion on the part of the natives of the 
 benefits of association and civilization. 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 Si 
 
 And here I feel it incumbent on me to 
 bear testimony not only in this instance 
 and in this colony to the enormous 
 amount of real, tangible, common-sense 
 good accomplished among the black 
 races all over the world by both Wesley- 
 an Methodist and Baptist missions and 
 missionaries. I am a staunch Church- 
 woman myself, and yield to no one in 
 pure love and reverence for my own 
 form of worship ; but I do not see why 
 that should hinder me from acknowledg- 
 ing facts which I have noticed all my 
 life. Long ago in Jamaica, how often in 
 our girlish rambles and rides have my 
 sister and I come suddenly upon a little 
 clearing in the midst of the deep silence 
 and green gloom of a tropical forest! 
 In the centre of the clearing would be 
 a rude thatched barn, with felled trees 
 for seats, and neither door nor window. 
 "What is that?" we would ask of the 
 negro lad who always rode on a mule 
 behind us to open gates or tell us the 
 right road home again after an excursion 
 in search of rare orchids or parrots' nests. 
 " Dat Baptist chapel, missis. Wesleyan, 
 him hab chapel too ober dere. Sunday 
 good man come preach tell us poor 
 niggers all good tings. Oder days same 
 good gempleman teach pickaninnies." 
 That was the answer, and in those few 
 words would lie the history of much 
 patient, humble planting of good seed, 
 unnoticed by the more pompous world 
 around. The minister works perhaps 
 during the week at some means of sup- 
 port, but devotes even his scant leisure 
 moments to teaching the little black chil- 
 dren. I am so ignorant of the details on 
 which dissenters differ from us that I dare 
 not go into the subject, but I only know 
 it was the same thing in India. Up in 
 the Himalayas I have come across just 
 the same story scores of times. Whilst 
 our more costly and elaborate system 
 of organization is compelled to wait for 
 grants and certified teachers, and desks 
 and benches, and Heaven knows what, 
 the Methodist or Baptist missionary 
 fells a few trees, uses them as walls and 
 seats, thatches the roof of his shelter, 
 and begins then and there to teach the 
 people around him something of the 
 6 
 
 sweet charities and decencies of a Chris- 
 tian life. 
 
 Doubtless, Edendale had once upon a 
 time as humble a beginning, but when I 
 saw it that soft autumn day it was dif- 
 ficult to recall such a chrysalis stage of 
 its existence. On our right hand rose a 
 neat brick chapel, substantial and hand- 
 some enough in its way, with proper seats 
 and good woodwork within. This plain 
 structure, however, cost something over 
 a thousand pounds, nearly every penny 
 of which has been contributed by Kafirs, 
 who twenty-five years ago had probably 
 never seen a brick or a bench, and were 
 in every respect as utter savages as you 
 could find anywhere. Nor is this the only 
 place of worship or instruction on the es- 
 tate, although it is the largest and most 
 expensive, for within the limits of the 
 settlement, or "location," as it is called 
 only embracing, remember, some thir- 
 ty-five hundred acres under cultivation 
 there is another chapel, a third a few 
 miles farther off at a sort of out-station, 
 and no less than four day-schools with 
 two hundred scholars, and three Sunday- 
 schools at which two hundred and eighty 
 children assemble weekly. All the neces- 
 sary buildings for these purposes have 
 been created entirely by and at the ex- 
 pense of the natives, who only number 
 eight hundred residents in the village it- 
 self. On Sundays, however, I heard with 
 much pleasure that more than a hun- 
 dred natives from neighboring kraals at- 
 tend the services at the chapels, attracted 
 no doubt in the first instance by the sing- 
 ing. But still, one cannot have a better 
 beginning, and the Kafir is quite shrewd 
 enough to contrast his squalid hut, his 
 scanty covering and monotonous food 
 with the well-clad, well-housed, well-fed 
 members of the little community of whom 
 he catches this weekly glimpse, and ev- 
 ery one of whom, save their pastor, is as 
 black as himself. 
 
 But I promised to tell you briefly how 
 the little settlement first originated. Its 
 founder and organizer was the Rev. James 
 Allison, a Wesleyan missionary who la- 
 bored long and successfully among the 
 Basuto and Amaswazi tribes in the inte- 
 rior, far away. Circumstances, external 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 as well as private, into which I need not 
 enter, led to his purchasing from Preto- 
 rius, the old Dutch president of Natal, 
 this "location" or estate of some sixty- 
 five hundred acres in extent, and settling 
 himself upon it. He was followed by a 
 great many of his original flock, who 
 were warmly and personally attached 
 to him, and had faithfully shared his 
 fortunes in the past. In this way the 
 nucleus of a settlement lay ready to his 
 hand, and he seems to have been a man 
 of great business talents and practical 
 turn of mind, as well as a spiritual teach- 
 er of no mean ability. The little village 
 I saw the other day was quickly laid out, 
 and the small freehold lots or "craen," 
 as they are called still by their old Dutch 
 name were readily bought by the na- 
 tive settlers. This was only in 1851, and 
 probably the actual tillage of the soil was 
 not commenced for a year or two later. 
 As we walked through the fertile fields 
 with their rich and abundant crops stand- 
 ing ready for the sickle, and looked down 
 into the sheltered nooks where luxuriant 
 gardens full of vegetables flourished, it 
 was difficult to believe that ever since 
 the first blade of grass or corn was put 
 in till now those fields had never known 
 any artificial dressing or manuring of 
 any sort. For more than twenty years 
 the soil had yielded abundantly without 
 an hour's rest, or any further cultiva- 
 tion than a very light plough could give. 
 The advantages of irrigation, so shame- 
 fully overlooked elsewhere, were here 
 abundantly recognized, and every few 
 yards brought one to a diminutive chan- 
 nel, made by a hoe in a few minutes, 
 bearing from the hill above a bright 
 trickle down to the gardens and houses. 
 I confess I often thought during that 
 pleasant ramble of the old saying about 
 God helping those who help themselves, 
 for all the comfort and well-to-do-ness 
 which met my eyes every moment was 
 entirely from within. The people had 
 done everything with their own hands, 
 and during the past year had, besides, 
 contributed over two hundred pounds to 
 their minister's support. There have 
 been three or four pastoral successors to 
 Mr. Allison, who left the settlement about 
 
 a dozen years ago, and the minister, who 
 offered me, a complete stranger, a most 
 cordial and kindly welcome, showing me 
 everything which could interest me, and 
 readily falling in with my desire to un- 
 derstand it all, was the Rev. Daniel Eva, 
 who has only been in charge of this 
 mission for eighteen months. I was 
 much struck by his report of the clever- 
 ness of the native children ; only it made 
 one regret still more that they had not 
 better and greater opportunities all over 
 the colony of being taught and trained. 
 In the girls' school I saw a bright-eyed 
 little Kafir maiden, neatly dressed and 
 with the most charming graceful carriage 
 and manner, who was only twelve years 
 old, and the most wonderful arithmeti- 
 cian. She had passed her teacher long 
 ago, and was getting through her " frac- 
 tions " with the ease and rapidity of Bab- 
 bage's calculating - machine. Nothing 
 short of Euclid was at all likely to satis- 
 fy her appetite for figures. She and her 
 slate were inseparable, and, she liked 
 nothing better than helping the other 
 children with their sums. But, indeed, 
 they were all very forward with their 
 learning, and did their native teachers 
 great credit: What I longed for, more 
 than anything else, was to see a regular 
 training-school established in this and 
 similar stations where these clever little 
 monkeys could be trained as future do- 
 mestic servants for us whites, and as good, 
 knowledgeable wives for their own peo- 
 ple. There was for some years an in- 
 dustrial school here, and I was dreadful- 
 ly sorry to hear it had been given up, but 
 not before it had turned out some very 
 creditable artisans among the boys, all of 
 whom are doing well at their respective 
 trades and earning their five or six shil- 
 lings a day as skilled workmen. This 
 school used to receive a yearly grant from 
 the local government of one hundred 
 pounds, but when, from private reasons, it 
 was given up, the grant was of course with- 
 drawn. The existing schools only get a 
 government grant of fifty pounds a year ; 
 and, small as the sum seems, it is yet 
 difficult to expect more from a heavily- 
 taxed white population who are at this 
 moment busy in preparing a better and 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 more costly scheme of education than 
 they possess at present for their own 
 children. Still, I confess my heart was 
 much drawn to this cheerful, struggling 
 little community ; and not only to it, but 
 to its numerous offshoots scattered here 
 and there far away. The Edendale peo- 
 ple already look forward to the days 
 when they shall have outgrown their 
 present limits, and have purchased two 
 very large farms a hundred miles farther 
 in the interior, to which several of the 
 original settlers of the parent mission 
 have migrated, and so formed a fresh 
 example of thrift and industry and a 
 fresh nucleus of civilization in another 
 wild part. 
 
 There were a hundred houses in the 
 village (it is called George Town, after 
 Sir George Grey), and into some of these 
 houses I went by special and eager invi- 
 tation of the owners. You have no idea 
 how clean and comfortable they were, 
 nor what a good notion of decoration 
 civilized Kafirs have. In fact, there was 
 rather too much decoration, as you will 
 admit if I describe one dwelling to you. 
 This particular house stood on high 
 ground, just where the mountain slopes 
 abruptly, so it had a little terrace in front 
 to make the ground level. Below the ter- 
 race was a kind of yard, in which quan- 
 tities of fowls scratched and clucked, and 
 beyond that, again, an acre of garden- 
 ground, every part of which was plant- 
 ed with potatoes, pumpkins, green peas 
 and other things. A couple of somewhat 
 steep and rough steps helped us to mount 
 up on the terrace, and then we were usher- 
 ed with such a natural pride and delight 
 in a white lady visitor into a little flag- 
 ged passage. On one side was the 
 kitchen and living-room, a fair -sized 
 place enough, with substantial tables 
 and chairs, and a large open hearth, 
 on which a wood-fire was cooking the 
 savory contents of a big pot. As for the 
 walls, they were simply the gayest I ever 
 beheld. Originally whitewashed, they 
 had been absolutely covered with bril- 
 liant designs in vermilion, cobalt and 
 yellow ochre, most correctly and sym- 
 metrically drawn in geometrical figures. 
 A many-colored star within a circle was 
 
 a favorite pattern. The effect was as 
 dazzling as though a kaleidoscope had 
 been suddenly flung against a wall and 
 its gay shapes fixed on it. But, grand as 
 was this apartment, it faded into insig- 
 nificance compared to the drawing-room 
 and the "English bedroom," both of 
 which were exhibited to me with much 
 complacency by the smiling owner. Now, 
 these rooms had originally been one, and 
 were only divided by a slender partition- 
 wall. When the door of the drawing- 
 room was thrown open, I must say I 
 almost jumped back in alarm at the size 
 of the roses and lilies which seemed 
 about to assault me. I never before saw 
 such a wall-paper never. It would have 
 been a large pattern for, say, St. James's 
 Hall, and there it was, flaunting on walls 
 about seven feet by eight. A brilliant 
 crimson flock formed the ground, and 
 these alarming flowers, far larger than 
 life, bloomed and nodded all over it. 
 The chairs and sofa were gay with an 
 equally remarkable chintz, and brilliant 
 mats of beads and wool adorned the 
 tables. China ornaments and pictures 
 were in profusion, though it took time 
 to get accustomed to those roses and 
 lilies, so as to be able to perceive any- 
 thing else. In one part of the tiny 
 room some bricks had been taken out 
 of the wall and a recess formed, fitted 
 up with shelves on which stood more 
 vases and statuettes, the whole being 
 framed and draped with pink calico cut 
 in large Vandykes. I must say, my 
 black hostess and her numerous female 
 friends, who came flocking to see me, 
 stood out well against this magnificent 
 background. We all sat for some time 
 exchanging compliments and personal 
 remarks through the medium of an in- 
 terpreter. But one smiling sable under- 
 stood English, and it was she who pro- 
 posed that the "lady-chief" should now 
 be shown the bedroom, which was Eng- 
 lish fashion. We all flocked into it, gen- 
 tlemen and all, for it was too amusing to 
 be left out. Sure enough, there was a 
 gay iron bedstead, a chest of drawers, 
 and, crowning glory of all, a real dress- 
 ing-table, complete with pink and white 
 petticoat and toilette-glass. The glass 
 
84 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 might have been six inches square I 
 don't think it was more but there was 
 a great deal of wooden frame to it, and 
 it stood among half a dozen breakfast 
 cups and saucers which were symmetri- 
 cally arranged, upside down, on the toi- 
 lette-table. 
 
 "What are these for?" I asked inno- 
 cently. 
 
 " Dat English fashion, missis : all 
 white ladies hab cup-saucers on deir 
 tables like dat." 
 
 It would have been the worst possible 
 taste to throw any doubt on this asser- 
 tion, which we all accepted with perfect 
 gravity and good faith, and so returned 
 to the drawing-room, much impressed, 
 apparently, by the grandeur of the bed- 
 room. 
 
 Of course, the babies came swarming 
 round, and very fat and jolly they all 
 looked in their nice cotton frocks or 
 shirt-blouses. I did not see a single rag- 
 ged or squalid or poverty-stricken person 
 in the whole settlement, except one poor 
 mad boy, who followed us about, darting 
 behind some shelter whenever he fancied 
 himself observed. Poor fellow ! he was 
 quite harmless a lucky circumstance, for 
 he was of enormous stature and strength. 
 Over his pleasant countenance came a 
 puzzled, vacant look every now and then, 
 but nothing repulsive, though his shaggy 
 locks hung about his face like a water- 
 spaniel's ears, and he was only wrapped 
 in a coarse blanket. I was sorry to no- 
 tice a good deal of ophthalmia among 
 the children, and heard that it was often 
 prevalent here. 
 
 In^another house, not quite so gay, I 
 was specially invited to look at the con- 
 tents of the good wife's wardrobe, hung 
 out to air in the garden. She was huge- 
 ly delighted at my declaring that I should 
 like to borrow some of her smart gowns, 
 especially when I assured her, with per- 
 fect truth, that I did not possess anything 
 half so fine. Sundry silk dresses of hues 
 like the rainbow waved from the pome- 
 granate bushes, and there were mantles 
 and jackets enough to have started a 
 second-hand clothes' shop on the spot. 
 This young woman who was quite pret- 
 ty, by the way was the second wife 
 
 of a rich elderly man, and I wonder- 
 ed what her slight, petite figure would 
 look like when buried in those large and 
 heavy garments. It chanced to be Sat- 
 urday, and there was quite as much clean- 
 ing and general furbishing up of every- 
 thing going on inside and outside the lit- 
 tle houses as in an English country vil- 
 lage, and far less shrewishness over the 
 process. 
 
 I wanted to have one more look at 
 the principal school-room, whose scholars 
 were just breaking up for a long play ; 
 so we returned, but only in time for the 
 outburst of liberated children, whooping 
 and singing and noisily joyful at the end- 
 ing of the week's lessons. The little 
 girls dropped their pretty curtsies shyly, 
 but the boys kept to the charming Kafir 
 salutation of throwing up the right hand 
 with its two fingers extended, and crying 
 " Inkosi !" It is a good deal prettier and 
 more graceful than the complicated wave 
 and bow in one which our village chil- 
 dren accomplish so awkwardly. 
 
 Oh, how I should like to "do up" that 
 school-room, and hang gay prints and 
 picture - lessons on its walls, for those 
 bright little creatures to go wild with de- 
 light at ! There has been so much need- 
 ed in the settlement that no money has 
 been or can be forthcoming just yet for 
 anything beyond bare necessaries. But 
 the school-room wanted " doing up " very 
 much. It was perfectly sweet and clean, 
 and there was no occasion for any inspec- 
 tor to measure out so many cubic feet of 
 air to each child, for the breeze from the 
 mountains was whistling in at every crev- 
 ice and among the rafters, and the floor 
 was well scrubbed daily ; but it wanted 
 new stands and desks and forms every- 
 thing, in short most sadly. Then just 
 think what a boon it would be if the most 
 intelligent and promising among the girls 
 could be drafted from this school when 
 twelve years old into a training-school, 
 where they could be taught sewing and 
 cooking and other homely accomplish- 
 ments ! There is no place in the colony 
 where one can turn for a good female 
 servant, and yet here were all these nice 
 sharp little girls only wanting the oppor- 
 tunity of learning to grow up into capital 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 servants and good future wives, above 
 merely picking mealies or hoeing the 
 ground. 
 
 As I have said before, I am no polit- 
 ical economist, and the very combina- 
 tion of words frightens me, but still I 
 can't help observing how we are wasting 
 the good material which lies ready to our 
 hands. When one first arrives one is told, 
 as a frightful piece of news, that there are 
 three hundred thousand Kafirs in Natal, 
 and only seventeen thousand whites. The 
 next remark is that immigration is the cure 
 for all the evils of the country, and that we 
 want more white people. Now, it seems 
 to me that is just what we don't want 
 at least, white people of what is called 
 the lower classes. Of course, every col- 
 ony is the better for the introduction of 
 skilled labor and intelligence of every 
 kind, no matter how impecunious it may 
 be. But the first thing a white person of 
 any class at all does here is to set up Ka- 
 firs under him, whom he knocks about as 
 much as he dares, complaining all the time 
 of their ignorance and stupidity. Every 
 man turns at once into a master and an 
 independent gentleman, with black ser- 
 vants under him ; and the result is, that 
 it is impossible to get the simplest thing 
 properly done, for the white people -are 
 too fine to do it, and the black ones eith- 
 er too ignorant or too lazy. Then there 
 is an outcry at the chronic state of mud- 
 dle and discomfort we all live in. Eng- 
 lish servants directly expect two or three 
 Kafirs under them to do their work ; and 
 really no one except ladies and gentle- 
 men seem to do anything save by deputy. 
 Now, if we were only to import a small 
 number of teachers and trained arti- 
 sans of the highest procurable degree 
 of efficiency, we could establish training- 
 schools in connection with the missions 
 which are scattered all over the country, 
 and which have been doing an immense 
 amount of good silently all these years. 
 In this way we might gradually use up 
 the material we have all ready to our 
 hand in these swarming black people ; 
 and it appears to me as if it would be 
 more likely to succeed than bringing 
 shiploads of ignorant, idle whites into 
 the colony. There is no doubt about 
 
 it : Natal will never be an attractive 
 country to European immigrants ; and if 
 it is not to be fairly crowded out of the 
 list of progressive English colonies by 
 its population of blacks, we must devise 
 some scheme for bringing them into the 
 great brotherhood of civilization. They 
 are undoubtedly an intelligent people, 
 good - humored and easy to manage. 
 Their laziness is their great drawback, 
 but at such a settlement as Edendale I 
 heard no complaints, and certainly there 
 were no signs of it. No one learns more 
 readily than a savage how good are clothes 
 and shelter and the thousand comforts of 
 civilized people. Unhappily, he learns the 
 evil with the good, especially in the towns, 
 but that is our own fault. In a climate with 
 so many cold days as this the want of cloth- 
 ing is severely felt by the Kafirs, and it 
 is one of the first inducements to work. 
 Then they very soon learn to appreciate 
 the comfort of a better dwelling than 
 their dark huts, and a wish for more 
 nourishing food follows next. It is ea- 
 sier to get at the children and form their 
 habits and ideas than to change those 
 of the grown - up men, for the women 
 scarcely count for anything at present 
 in a scheme of improvement : they are 
 mere hewers of wood and drawers of 
 water. So the end of it all is, that I 
 want a little money from some of you 
 rich people to encourage the Edendale 
 settlers by helping them with their ex- 
 isting schools, and if possible setting 
 up training-schools where boys could be 
 taught carpentering and other trades, and 
 the girls housewifery ; and I want the same 
 idea taken up and enlarged, and gradu- 
 ally carried out on a grand scale all over 
 the country. 
 
 There are several Norwegian missions 
 established on the borders of Zululand, 
 presided over by Bishop Schreuder ; and 
 I have been so immensely interested in 
 the bishop's report of a visit he paid last 
 year to Cetywayo (there is a click in the 
 C), the Zulu king, that I have copied 
 some of it out of a Blue Book for you. 
 Do you know there is a very wrong im- 
 pression abroad about blue books ? They 
 contain the most interesting reading pos- 
 sible, full of details of colonial difficulties 
 
86 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 and dangers which are not to be met with 
 anywhere else, and I have never been bet- 
 ter entertained than by turning over the 
 leaves of one whenever it is my good 
 fortune to come across it. I remember 
 one in particular upon Japan, beautiful- 
 ly written, and as thrillingly sensational 
 as any of Miss Braddon's novels. How- 
 ever, you shall judge for yourself of the 
 bishop's narrative. I will only mention 
 what he is too modest to cause to appear 
 here and which was told me by other 
 people that he is one of the most zeal- 
 ous and fearless of the great band of 
 missionaries, beloved and respected by 
 black and white. In fact, my inform- 
 ant managed to convey a very good 
 impression of the bishop's character to 
 me when he summed up his panegyric 
 in true colonial phraseology, though I 
 quite admit that it does not sound suf- 
 ficiently respectful when applied to a 
 bishop: "He is a first-rate fellow, all 
 round." 
 
 This document, which I have shorten- 
 ed a little, was addressed as a letter to 
 our minister for native affairs, and has 
 thus become public property, read and 
 re-read with deep interest by us here, 
 and likely, I am sure, to please a wider 
 circle : 
 
 UNTUNJAMBILI, August 20, 1875. 
 
 DEAR SIR : I beg to send you a short 
 sketch of my last trip to and interview 
 with the Zulu king, in order to present to 
 him your report of your embassy, 1873, 
 and leave it to your discretion to lay be- 
 fore His Excellency the whole or a part 
 of this sketch, got up in a language for- 
 eign to me. 
 
 After an irksome traveling right across 
 the Tugela from here to Undi, I arrived 
 the fifth day (August 5) at the king's head 
 kraal sufficiently early to have a prelim- 
 inary interview with the headmen then 
 present viz., Umnjamana, Usegetwayo, 
 Uganze, Uzetzalusa, Untzingwayo, etc. 
 and, according to Zulu etiquette, lay be- 
 fore them the substance of my message 
 in the main points, the same as I, the 
 day after (6th August), told the king. 
 
 (N. B. In the course of the evening one 
 of the headmen hinted to me that as re- 
 
 gards the killing of people, all was not as 
 it ought to be, and that I ought to press 
 the matter when I had the interview with 
 the king, as he needed to have his mem- 
 ory (I would rather say his conscience, for 
 his memory is still very good even re- 
 markably good) stirred up, and that the 
 present occasion was the very time to do 
 that. The result proved this to be a very 
 safe and timely hint.) 
 
 They spent the forenoon communicat- 
 ing in their bulky way this news to the 
 king, so it was midday before I got an 
 interview with the king, when I opened 
 the interview verbatim, thus : 
 
 " My arrival here to-day is not on my 
 own account. I have come at the re- 
 quest of the chiefs across (the Tugela) 
 to cause you to receive by hand and by 
 mouth a book which has come from Vic- 
 toria, the queen of the English the book 
 of the new laws of this Zulu country, 
 which Somtseu ( Mr. Shepstone ) pro 
 claimed publicly at Umlambongwenya 
 the day he, being called to do so, set 
 you apart to be king of the Zulus. Vic- 
 toria, queen of the English, says : ' I and 
 my great headmen (ministers) have read 
 the new laws of the Zulu country, which 
 you, king, and all the Zulus, agreed to 
 with Somtseu ; and as we adhere to our 
 words, so also I wish you, chief of the 
 Zulus, to hold fast to these words of yours 
 of this law which you agreed to adhere 
 to the day you were made king by Mr. 
 Shepstone, who was sent to do that by 
 the government of Natal.' I have now 
 finished: this is the only word I have 
 brought with me from the chiefs across 
 (the Tugela)." 
 
 The royal inscription of the copy was 
 of course literally translated. 
 
 After having thus delivered the gov- 
 ernment message entrusted to me, I add- 
 ed, in the way of explaining to the king 
 and his councilors the merits of the case 
 at issue, by saying : 
 
 "You have heard the government 
 word, but that you may clearly see the 
 line of this book of the new laws, I wish 
 to explain to you as follows: The day 
 the Zulu nation brought the head of the 
 king, laid low, four oxen, to the govern- 
 ment, the Zulu nation asked that Mr. 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 Shepstone might come and proclaim the 
 new laws of Zululand, and set apart the 
 real royal child, because they no longer 
 had power of themselves to set apart for 
 themselves a king. Mr. Shepstone came, 
 and began by consulting you, the Zulu 
 nation, at Umlambongwenya on the fifth 
 day of the week, on all the points of the 
 new law which he had been sent for to 
 proclaim ; and he conversed with you 
 until the sun went down, having begun 
 early in the day. He then left you Zu- 
 lus to consult together and investigate 
 the new laws on the last day of the week 
 and on the Sunday ; and when Mr. 
 Shepstone returned to the wagons (camp) 
 he wrote in a book all the points of the 
 new law ; and on Monday he again came 
 with all his attendants, and it was in ac- 
 cordance with his previous arrangement 
 with you ; and he came to the Umlam- 
 bongwenya, the residence appointed for 
 the purpose, that he might set apart in 
 becoming manner the young king. We 
 all were present : we heard him, stand- 
 ing publicly, holding in his hand a paper, 
 and pointing to it, saying, ' That forget- 
 fulness may never, never happen, I have 
 written in this paper all the points of the 
 new laws of the country which we agreed 
 upon, two days ago and to-day, in the 
 presence of all the Zulu nation, the royal 
 children and the nobles ;' and he then 
 handed that paper to his son, that it 
 might be accessible and speak when he 
 himself is no more ; and this proclama- 
 tion of the new laws was confirmed by 
 the English custom of firing cannons sev- 
 enteen times, and according to the Zulu 
 by the striking of shields. On the sec- 
 ond day of the week Mr. Shepstone re- 
 turned to the Umlambongwenya to take 
 his leave of the king, and again the points 
 of the new law were explained ; and Ut- 
 tainn (Cetywayo's brother) explained to 
 Mr. Shepstone the history of this house ; 
 and on the third day the nobles all went 
 to the wagons (camp), being sent to the 
 king to take leave, and Mr. Shepstone 
 went home satisfied ; and when he re- 
 turned to the colony he wrote this book 
 of the narrative of his journey and his 
 work in Zululand ; and, as is done (in the 
 colony), then he sent it to the governor, 
 
 and the governor read it, and read it all, 
 and said the work of Somtseu is good, 
 and the new laws of the Zulu country 
 are good ; and, as is done there too, he 
 sent it forward to Victoria, the queen of 
 the English ; and Victoria sent back this 
 book of the new laws by the same way 
 to the governor, and the governor re- 
 turned it to Somtseu, and here it is come 
 back to its work (discharge its function) 
 in Zululand, where it was set up to rule 
 over you. And as Victoria binds her- 
 self by her words, so are you also, king, 
 and you, the Zulu nation, bound by this 
 new law made for you here by Somtseu 
 at Umlambongwenya. And this is the 
 generation of this book of the new law : 
 It was born an infant ; it went across (the 
 water), the child of a king, to seek for 
 kingship, and it found it ; it was made 
 king far away, and here it is returned 
 with its rank to its own country, Zulu- 
 land ; therefore do not say it is only the 
 book that speaks. No, I tell you, Zulus, 
 of a truth, that this book has to-day rank : 
 it took that rank beyond (the water) : it 
 has come back a king, and is supreme 
 in this country. 
 
 "The words of the governor are fin- 
 ished, and my explanation is finished ; 
 but there are small items of news which 
 I wish to tell you in your ears, which the 
 authorities (in Natal) did not tell me, 
 but which I speak for myself because 
 I wish to see for you and reprove you 
 gently, that you may understand." 
 
 Uganze then commenced in his usual 
 tattling way to make some remarks, that 
 they, as black people, did not understand 
 books and the value of such written doc- 
 uments ; whereupon I said to him, "That 
 won't do, Ganze, that you, after having 
 applied, as in the present case, to people 
 who transact business through written 
 documents, now afterward say you do 
 not understand the value of books. You 
 all know very well that book-rules are 
 supreme with white people : it is there- 
 fore of no use that you, after having ob- 
 tained what you wanted from the white 
 people, now come and plead ignorance 
 about book. If you don't know your- 
 selves to read book, there is nothing else 
 for you to be done but to get a trustwor- 
 
88 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 thy person to read for you, or learn to 
 read yourselves." 
 
 By these remarks I stopped effectually 
 all further talk of that kind ; and, evi- 
 dently displeased at Uganze's talk, the 
 king repeated very correctly all I had 
 endeavored to say. (You know the king 
 has a good memory.) 
 
 While I was translating, the king and 
 his nobles often expressed their astonish- 
 ment, uttering occasionally that it was as 
 if they were living the thing over again, 
 and that what was translated was exact- 
 ly what was spoken and transacted in 
 your way to and under your stay at the 
 place of encampment ; and, having fin- 
 ished, I told them that the fullness and 
 correctness of the details of the report 
 was a natural result of the habit of white 
 people under such circumstances, daily 
 to take down in writing what transpired, 
 in order not to forget it itself long time 
 afterward. 
 
 As the king and his nobles now enter- 
 ed upon a discussion of the merits of the 
 new laws as set forth in your report, and 
 this discussion evidently would take the 
 turn of being an answer to the message 
 delivered, I found it necessary to tell 
 them that I had received no commission 
 to bring back any answer to the govern- 
 ment message ; and stated my own private 
 opinion about not having received such 
 commission by saying most explicitly, 
 " My opinion is that the chiefs across the 
 Tugela did not tell me to take back to 
 them your answer, because your right 
 words to adhere to the new law are com- 
 pleted. They are many : no more are 
 necessary. The thing wanted now is 
 your acts in accordance with the law." 
 
 Here, again, Uganze asked what I meant 
 by acts ; and the answer was, " That you 
 rule and manage this Zululand in accord- 
 ance with the new law, and never over- 
 step it;" and I explained this further by 
 telling them frankly that many reports 
 circulated in Natal of the extensive kill- 
 ing of people all over the Zululand ; that 
 from the time I this year had crossed the 
 Tugela, Natal people had with one mouth 
 asked me if the killing of people in Zu- 
 luland now really was carried on to such 
 an extent as reported, in spite of the new 
 
 law ; that I had not with my own eyes 
 seen any corpse, and personally only 
 knew of them said to have been killed ; 
 that I myself had my information prin- 
 cipally from the same sources as people 
 in Natal, and often from Natal newspa- 
 pers ; that I myself personally believed 
 that there were some, and perhaps too 
 much, foundation for said reports : there 
 were many who pretended having seen 
 corpses of people killed both with guns 
 and spears. And, after having lectured 
 my Zulu audience very earnestly upon 
 this vital point, I concluded, saying, 
 " Well-wishers of the Zulus are very sorry 
 to hear of such things, as they certainly 
 had hoped that the new constitution 
 would have remedied this sad shedding 
 of blood ; while, on the other hand, peo- 
 ple who did not care whether the Zulu 
 nation was ruined or not, merely laugh- 
 ed at the idea that any one ever could 
 have entertained the hope of altering or 
 amending the old-cherished Zulu prac- 
 tice of bloodshed, as the Zulus were such 
 an irrecoverable set of man -butchers. 
 Further, I tell you seriously, king, your 
 reputation is bad among the whites ; and, 
 although it is not as yet officially report- 
 ed to the government, still it has come 
 to its ears, all these bloody rumors, and 
 nobody can tell what may be the con- 
 sequences hereafter to-morrow." 
 
 The king and his izinduna seemed 
 wonderfully tame even conscience-smit- 
 ten all along while the rumors were 
 mentioned, for I had expected some of 
 their usual unruly excitement ; but noth- 
 ing of that kind was seen. But, although 
 the king and his nobles present had, as 
 mentioned above, with astonishment ut- 
 tered that your report had reported ex- 
 actly everything done and said there and 
 then, he now tried to point out that you, 
 in your report, had left out to inform the 
 queen that he, in his transactions with 
 you, had reserved to himself the right 
 of killing people who kill others, who lie 
 with the king's girls, who sin against or 
 steal the king's property that it is the 
 royal Zulu prerogative " from time imme- 
 morial," at the accession to the throne, 
 to make raid on neighboring tribes. I 
 went into details of both questions, and 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 89 
 
 proved by plain words of your report, as 
 well as by logical conclusion therefrom, 
 the fallacy of both complaints ; and espe- 
 cially as to the pretended " from time im- 
 memorial," that this was nonsense, as 
 that bloody system of raid only was from 
 yesterday (chaka], and therefore there 
 were no reasons why it should not be 
 broken off to-morrow ; and much more 
 so as this raid - system only tended to 
 exasperate all neighboring tribes against 
 the Zulus, and eventually bring on their 
 (Zulus') ruin, for it was well known that 
 all neighboring tribes were gradually 
 coming under the protection of the white 
 people. The king made, in self-defence, 
 some irrelevant remarks, and was of 
 course supported by the izinduna in the 
 usual Zulu-duda way, but, most remark- 
 ably, in a very tame way ; but I thought 
 by myself, " It is easy to make an end to 
 this support and combination, for I shall 
 split your interest, and then combat you 
 singly." So I turned the current of the 
 discussion in this way, saying, "I do 
 really believe that there is going on kill- 
 ing people in such a manner that the 
 king is blamed in Natal for doings he 
 first afterward is made aware of viz., 
 the grandees will, for example, kill a 
 man of no note, take a few heads of 
 cattle to the king in order to shut his 
 mouth, saying, ' I found a rat spoiling 
 my things, and struck this rat of mine, 
 and here is the few cattle it left behind.' 
 Then the king will although the thing 
 does not suit him think by himself, ' If 
 I stir up in this poltroon matter, my 
 grandees will say that I trouble them ;' 
 and so the thing is growing on, and 
 brings on such rumors and bad names 
 over in Natal. But was it not agreed 
 upon, king, at your installation, that the 
 common saying, ' My man,' or ' My peo- 
 ple,' must not be tolerated any longer ? 
 It must cease in the mouth of the 
 grandees in the country. Here in the 
 Zululand is now 'my people' of the 
 grandees, but all are people of the 
 king. The" grandees have no right to 
 the people : the king is the owner of 
 them all solely. And was it not agreed 
 upon that no Zulu male or female, old 
 or young could be executed without fair, 
 
 open trial and the special previous sanc- 
 tion of the king ? But now, by the old 
 practice creeping into use again, and the 
 grandees killing their so-called people, 
 and the king killing his, it is like the real 
 owner and the other imaginary owners 
 killing independently cattle out of the 
 same herd, without telling each other, till 
 the herd is cut up. By executing people 
 who really only belong to the king, the 
 grandees will, in the same degree as they 
 do so, detract from and diminish the roy- 
 al power and prerogative, so that there 
 in fact reign several kings in this same 
 kingdom, at least as far as the authority 
 over life and death concerns. The gran- 
 dees are concealed behind their king in 
 the bad rumors over in Natal ; so the 
 king gains a bad name and blame for 
 the whole, while the grandees gain the 
 satisfaction of succeeding in killing peo- 
 ple they dislike." 
 
 The king assented to these my re- 
 marks ; so the izinduna found them- 
 selves deserted and silenced. Umnja- 
 mana only tried to put in a few very 
 tame remarks of his usual ones, but I 
 quickly brought him to his senses by re- 
 membering him sharply of his sayings 
 and doings at the installation. I now 
 thought it high time to cut the further 
 parlance short by saying, " I find that I 
 am going to be dragged into an argu- 
 ment about matters that are no business 
 of mine, and I will therefore talk no 
 more of these things, for the new law- 
 owners are still alive; and, moreover, 
 the new law is there invested with un- 
 deniable royalty; so that even when 
 Her Majesty Victoria, her present coun- 
 cilors and the rest of us are no more, 
 the Umteto will be there, and numerous 
 copies of it are in the hands of the white 
 people, so that they at present and in fu- 
 ture times will be able to compare wheth- 
 er the doings of yours (Zulu) are in ac- 
 cordance or at variance with that law, 
 and take their measures accordingly. 
 Victoria binds herself by books, and so 
 you are bound by this book of new law 
 that now is ruling supreme : that is the 
 long and short of it, for this book of the 
 law will decay with the country. ... I 
 have now talked myself tired, finished 
 
9 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 my verbal errand to you, king, and now 
 I will hand over to you this splendid copy 
 of the new law." He then said, " Lay it 
 down here" (pointing to the mat under 
 his feet). "No," I replied, "that won't 
 do : the book is not at your feet, but you 
 are at the feet of the book ; and if my 
 hands are not too good to hand it over 
 to you, your hands ought not to be too 
 good to receive it. Don't make any dif- 
 ficulty." So he received the copy with 
 his hands, laid it himself on the mat, 
 placed both his elbows on his knees, and 
 holding bent over his head between his 
 hands, uttered that peculiar native "Oh 
 dear ! oh dear ! what a man this is !" 
 
 The king evidently felt himself so out 
 of his depth that he quite forgot his usual 
 final topics, begging for a royal cloak 
 (the standing topic of late) or some sim- 
 ilar thing, and dropped into begging for 
 a dog to bark for him at night. 
 
 Lastly, in order to test him how he 
 now was disposed toward mission-work, 
 I told him that, as my business with him 
 was finished, I should immediately, with- 
 out sleeping that night at Undi, com- 
 mence my homeward journey, for I 
 had left much work to be done behind, 
 having commenced a new station over 
 in Natal, as here in Zululand is no work 
 for us missionaries as long as he prohib- 
 ited his subjects from becoming Chris- 
 tians ; therefore it was at present quite 
 sufficient for me in Zululand, where it, 
 under present circumstances, was use- 
 less to get new stations only to live and 
 not work on, while we over in Natal 
 could buy, and from government, who 
 approved of the mission-work, get land 
 for stations ; moreover, the people for 
 example, over at Untunjambili were 
 very anxious to be taught. With an 
 heedful air the king asked, "Do the 
 Kafirs really wish to be taught?" "Yes, 
 they really do," I answered him. 
 
 Thinking that it would do them (the 
 king and councilors) good to hear a bit 
 of those proceedings, I inserted a few 
 words about the contemplated and pro- 
 posed federation between the colony of 
 Natal, Cape, the Transvaal, and Orange 
 
 States by mentioning that an important 
 letter from the great people beyond the 
 water had come and proposed a grand 
 meeting of men chosen from these four 
 states to deliberate of the best mode 
 of establishing such federation among 
 themselves, and the advantage and im- 
 portance of this federation, which I tried 
 to point out by a few practical instances. 
 The king and his induna now insisted 
 upon my not leaving before next morn- 
 ing, as the king wanted to prepare for 
 me (get me some living beef); and in 
 the course of the evening I got a special 
 message from him to you to get from a 
 doctor medicine for a complaint he had 
 in the chest, rising at times from regions 
 about the liver, and medicine for an in- 
 duna who of late had been completely 
 deaf. The messenger also told that the 
 king already had sent to you for medi- 
 cines, but as yet got no answer. I think 
 that he has found out that it comes very 
 expensive to call a dotela from Natal, 
 and that it therefore would be cheapest 
 to get the aid of genuine doctors through 
 your kind unpaid assistance. 
 
 Under the conversation with the king 
 the headman Usagetwayo (a rather stu- 
 pid man, but whose assumed grandeur 
 is so great and supercilious that he pre- 
 tends never to know anybody, but al- 
 ways must ask somebody who this is) 
 asked in his well-known hoarse way, 
 " Who is he there who speaks with the 
 king?" (meaning me). Umnjamana an- 
 swered, " Bishop Schreuder, native man : 
 he is Panda's old headman. You are 
 joking in saying you don't know him : it 
 was he for whom they cut off the large 
 bit of land at Enlumeni." (One of my 
 Christian natives present overheard this 
 conversation getting on in a subdued 
 tone while I was speaking with the king.) 
 
 When our interview commenced the 
 king seemed rather sulky, but got grad- 
 ually brighter, at least very tame, which 
 hardly could have been expected after 
 such dusky beginning, for which there 
 were also other reasons, needless to spe- 
 cify here. I remain, etc., 
 
 H. SCHREUDER. 
 
MARITZBURG, June 3, 1876. 
 
 DUST and the bazaar! These are 
 the topics of the month. Perhaps 
 I ought to put the bazaar first, for it is 
 past and over, to the intense thankful- 
 ness of everybody, buyers and sellers 
 included, whereas the dust abides with 
 us for ever, and increases in volume and 
 density and restlessness more and more. 
 It certainly seems to me a severe penalty 
 to pay for these three months of fine and 
 agreeable weather to have no milk, hard- 
 ly any butter, very little water, and to be 
 smothered by dust into the bargain. But 
 still, here is a little bit of bracing, healthy 
 weather, and far be it from me to depre- 
 ciate it. We enjoy every moment of it, 
 and congratulate each other upon it, and 
 boast once more to new-comers that we 
 possess "the finest climate in the world." 
 This remark died out in the summer, but 
 is again to be heard on all sides ; and I 
 am not strong-minded enough to take up 
 lance and casque and tilt against it. Be- 
 sides which, it would really be very pleas- 
 ant if only the tanks were not dry, the 
 cows giving but a teacupful of milk a day 
 for want of grass, whilst butter is half a 
 crown a pound, and of a rancid cheesiness 
 trying to the consumer. Still, the weath- 
 er is bright and sunny and fresh all day 
 too hot, indeed, in the sun, and general- 
 ly bitterly cold in the evening and night. 
 About once a week, however, we have a 
 burning hot wind, and are obliged still to 
 keep our summer clothes close at hand. 
 The rapidity with which cold succeeds 
 this hot wind is hardly to be believed. 
 Our "season" is just over. It lasts as 
 nearly as possible one week, and all the 
 gayety and festivity of the year is crowd- 
 ed into it. During this time of revelry 
 I drove down the hill to a garden-party 
 one sunny afternoon, and found a muslin 
 scarf absolutely unbearable, so intensely 
 hot was the air. That was about three 
 o'clock, and by five I was driving home 
 in the darkening twilight, dusty as a mill- 
 
 er and shivering in a seal-skin jacket. It 
 is no wonder that most of us, Kafirs and 
 all, have fearful colds and coughs, or that 
 croup is both common and dangerous 
 among the little ones. Still, we must 
 never lose sight of the fact that it is "the 
 finest climate in the world," and excep- 
 tionally favorable, or so they say, to con- 
 sumptive patients. 
 
 I am more thankful than words can 
 express that we live out of the town, 
 though the pretty green slopes around 
 are sere and yellow now, with here and 
 there patches of black where the fires 
 rage night and day among the tall grass. 
 About this season prudent people burn 
 strips around their fences and trees to 
 check any vagrant fire, for there is so 
 little timber that the few green trees are 
 precious things, not to be shriveled up 
 in an hour by fast-traveling flames for 
 want of precautions. The spruits or 
 brooks run low in their beds, the ditches 
 are dry, the wells have only a bucketful 
 of muddy water and a good many frogs 
 in them, and the tanks are failing one 
 after another. Yet this is only the be- 
 ginning of winter, and I am told that I 
 don't yet know what dust and drought 
 mean. I begin to think affectionately of 
 those nice heavy thunder-showers every 
 evening, and to long to see again the 
 familiar bank of cloud peeping up over 
 that high hill to the west, precursor of a 
 deluge. Well ! well ! there is no satisfy- 
 ing some people. I am ready to swal- 
 low my share of dust as uncomplaining- 
 ly as may be, but I confess to horrible 
 anxiety as to what we are all to do for 
 milk for the babies presently. Every 
 two or three days I get a polite note from 
 whoever is supplying me with milk to 
 say they are extremely sorry to state they 
 shall be obliged to discontinue doing so, 
 as their cows don't give a pint a day 
 amongst them all. The little which is 
 to be had is naturally enormously dear. 
 F steadily declines to buy a cow, be- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 cause he says he knows it will be just 
 like all the rest, but I think if only I had 
 a cow I should contrive to find food for 
 it somewhere. I see those horrid tins of 
 preserved milk drawing nearer and near- 
 er day by day. 
 
 It is very wrong to pass over our great 
 bazaar with so little notice. I dare say 
 you who read this think that you know 
 something about bazaars, but I assure you 
 you do not not about such a bazaar 
 as this, at all events. We have been 
 preparing for it, working for it, worrying 
 for it, advertising it, building it, decorat- 
 ing it, and generally slaving at it for a 
 year and more. When I arrived the first 
 words I heard were about the bazaar. 
 W T hen I tried to get some one to help me 
 with my stall, I was laughed at : all the 
 young ladies in the place had been se- 
 cured months before as saleswomen. I 
 don't know what I should have done if a 
 very charming lady had not arrived soon 
 after I did. No sooner had she set foot 
 on shore than I rushed at her and snap- 
 ped her up before any one else knew that 
 she had come, for I was quite desperate, 
 and felt it was my only chance. How- 
 ever, luck was on my side, and my fair 
 A. D. C. made up in energy and devotion 
 to the cause for half a dozen less enthu- 
 siastic assistants. All this time I have 
 never told you what the bazaar was for, 
 or why we all threw ourselves into it with 
 so much ardor. It was for the Natal Lit- 
 erary Society, which has been in exist- 
 ence some little time, struggling to form 
 the nucleus of a public library and read- 
 ing-room, giving lectures and so forth to 
 provide some sort of elevating and refin- 
 ing influences for the more thoughtful 
 among the Maritzburgians. It has been 
 very up-hill work, and there is no doubt 
 that the promoters and supporters de- 
 serve a good deal of credit. They had 
 met with the usual fate of such pioneers 
 of progress : they had been overwhelmed 
 with prophecies of all kinds of disaster, 
 but they can turn the tables now on their 
 tormentors. The building did not take 
 fire, nor was it robbed ; there were no 
 riots ; all the boxes arrived in time ; 
 everybody was in the sweetest temper ; 
 no one died for want of fresh air (these 
 
 were among the most encouraging prog- 
 nostics) ; and last, not least, after paying 
 all expenses two thousand guineas stand 
 at the bank to the credil of the society. 
 I must say 1 was astonished at the finan- 
 cial result, but delighted too, for it is an 
 excellent undertaking, and one in which 
 I feel the warmest interest. It will be an 
 immense boon to the public, and cannot 
 fail to elevate the tone of thought and 
 feeling in the town. This sum, large as 
 it is for our slender resources, will only 
 barely build a place suitable for a libra- 
 ry and reading-room, and the nucleus 
 of a museum. We want gifts of books 
 and maps and prints, and nice things 
 of all kinds; and I only wish any one 
 who reads these lines, and could help 
 us in this way, would kindly do so, for 
 it will be a long time before we can buy 
 such things for ourselves, and yet they 
 are indispensable to the carrying out of 
 the scheme. 
 
 Everybody from far and near came to 
 the bazaar and bought liberally. The 
 things provided were selected with a 
 view to the wants of a community which 
 has not a large margin for luxuries, and 
 although 'they were very pretty, there 
 was a strong element of practical useful- 
 ness in everything. It must have been 
 a perfect carnival for the little ones. 
 Such blowing of whistles and trumpets, 
 such beating of drums and tossing of 
 gay balls in the air, as were to be seen all 
 around ! Little girls walked about hug- 
 ging newly-acquired dolls with an air of 
 bewildered maternal happiness, whilst 
 on every side you heard boys comparing 
 notes as to the prices of cricket-bats (for 
 your true colonial boy has always a keen 
 sense of the value of money) or the mer- 
 its of carpenters' tools. A wheelwright 
 gave half a dozen exquisitely -finished 
 wheelbarrows to the bazaar, made of the 
 woods of the colony, and useful as well 
 as exceedingly pretty. The price was 
 high, but I shut my economical eyes 
 tight and bought one, to the joy and de- 
 light of the boys, big and little. There 
 were heaps of similar things, besides con- 
 tributions from London and Paris, from 
 Italy and Austria, from India and Aus- 
 tralia, to say nothing of Kafir weapons 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 93 
 
 and wooden utensils, of live-stock, veg- 
 etables and flowers. Everybody re- 
 sponded to our entreaties, and helped 
 us liberally and kindly ; and this is the 
 result with which we are all immensely 
 delighted. 
 
 Some of our best customers were funny 
 old Dutchmen from far up country, who 
 had come down to the races and the 
 agricultural show, which were all going 
 on at the same time. They bought reck- 
 lessly the most astounding things, but 
 wisely made it a condition of purchase 
 that they should not be required to take 
 away the goods. In fact, they hit upon 
 the expedient of presenting to one stall 
 what they bought at another ; and one 
 worthy, who looked for all the world as 
 if he had sat for his portrait in dear old 
 Geoffrey Crayon's Sketch-books, brought 
 us at our stall a large wax doll dressed 
 as a bride, and implored us to accept it, 
 and so rid him of its companionship. An 
 immense glass vase was bestowed on us 
 in a similar fashion later on in the even- 
 ing, and at last we quite came to hail the 
 sight of those huge beaver hats with their 
 broad brims and peaked crowns as an 
 omen of good fortune. But what I most 
 wanted to see all the time were the he- 
 roes of the rocket practice. You do not 
 know perhaps that delicious and verita- 
 ble South African story ; so I must tell it 
 to you, only you ought to see my dear 
 boers or emigrant farmers to appreciate 
 it thoroughly. 
 
 A little time ago the dwellers in a cer- 
 tain small settlement far away on the 
 frontier took alarm at the threatening at- 
 titude of their black neighbors. I need 
 not go into the rights or rather the 
 wrongs of the story here, but skip all 
 preliminary details and start fair one fine 
 morning when a commando was about 
 to march. Now, a commando means 
 a small expedition armed to the teeth, 
 which sets forth to do as much retalia- 
 tory mischief as it can. It had occurred 
 to the chiefs of this warlike force that a 
 rocket apparatus would be a very fine 
 thing, and likely to strike awe into sav- 
 age tribes, and so would a small, light 
 cannon. The necessary funds were forth- 
 coming, and some kind friend in Eng- 
 
 land sent them out a beautiful little rock- 
 et-tube, all complete, and the most know- 
 ing and destructive of light field-pieces. 
 They reached their destination in the very 
 nick of time the eve, in fact, of the de- 
 parture of this valiant commando. It 
 was deemed advisable to make trial of 
 these new weapons before starting, and 
 an order was issued for the commando 
 to assemble a little earlier in the market- 
 square and learn to handle their artillery 
 pieces before marching. Not only did 
 the militia assemble, but all the towns- 
 folk, men, women and children, and clus- 
 tered like bees round the rocket-tube, 
 which had been placed near the powder 
 magazine, so as to be handy to the am- 
 munition. The first difficulty consisted in 
 finding anybody who had ever seen a 
 cannon before : as for a rocket-tube, that 
 was indeed a new invention. The most 
 careful search only succeeded in pro- 
 ducing a boer who had many, many 
 years ago made a voyage in an old tea- 
 ship which carried a couple of small 
 guns for firing signals, etc. This valiant 
 artilleryman was at once elected com- 
 mander-in-chief of the rocket-tube and 
 the little cannon, whilst everybody stood 
 by to see some smart practice. The tube 
 was duly hung on its tripod, and the re- 
 luctant fellow-passenger of the two old 
 cannon proceeded to load, and attempt- 
 ed to fire it. The loading was compara- 
 tively easy, but the firing ! I only wish I 
 understood the technical terms of rock- 
 et-firing, but, although they have been 
 minutely explained to me half a dozen 
 times, I don't feel strong enough on the 
 subject to venture to use them. The re- 
 sults were, that some connecting cord or 
 other having been severed contrary to 
 the method generally pursued by experts 
 in letting off a rocket, half of the pro- 
 jectile took fire, could not escape from 
 the tube on account of the other half 
 blocking up the passage, and there was 
 an awful internal commotion instead of 
 an explosion. The tripod gyrated rap- 
 idly, the whizzing and fizzing became 
 more pronounced every moment, and at 
 last, with a whish and a bang, out rush- 
 ed the ill-treated and imprisoned rocket. 
 But there was no clear space for it. It 
 
94 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 ricochetted among the trees, zigzagging 
 here and there, opening out a line for 
 itself with lightning speed among the ter- 
 rified and flustered crowd. There seem- 
 ed no end to the progress of that blazing 
 stick. A wild cry arose, "The powder 
 magazine !" but before the stick could 
 reach so far, it brought up all standing 
 in a wagon, and made one final leap 
 among the oxen, killing two of them 
 and breaking the leg of a third. This 
 was an unfortunate beginning for the 
 new captain, but he excused himself on 
 the ground that, after all, rockets were 
 not guns : with those he was perfectly 
 familiar, having smoked his pipe often 
 and often on board the tea-ship long ago 
 with those two cannon full in view. Yet 
 the peaceablest cannons have a nasty 
 trick of running back and treading on 
 the toes of the bystanders ; and to guard 
 against such well-known habits it seem- 
 ed advisable to plant the trail of this lit- 
 tle fellow securely in the ground, so that 
 he must perforce keep steady. "Volun- 
 teers to the front w r ith spades !" was the 
 cry, and a good-sized grave was made 
 for the trail of the gun, which was then 
 lightly covered up with earth. There 
 was now no fear in loading him, and in- 
 stead of one, two charges of powder were 
 carefully rammed home, and two shells 
 put in. There was some hitch also about 
 applying the fuse to this weapon, fuses 
 not having been known on board the 
 tea-ship; but at last something was ig- 
 nited, and out jumped one shell right into 
 the middle of the market-square, and 
 buried itself in the ground. But, alas 
 and alas ! the cannon now behaved in 
 a wholly unexpected manner. It turned 
 itself deliberately over on its back, with 
 its muzzle pointing full among the groups 
 of gaping Dutchmen in its rear, its wheels 
 spun round at the rate of a thousand 
 miles an hour, and a fearful growling 
 and sputtering could be heard inside it. 
 The recollection of the second shell now 
 obtruded itself vividly on all minds, and 
 caused a furious stampede among the 
 spectators. The fat Dutchmen looked 
 as if they were playing some child's 
 game. One ran behind another, puttung 
 his hands on his shoulders, but no soon- 
 
 er did any person find himself the first 
 of a file than he shook off the detaining 
 hands of the man behind him and fled 
 to the rear to hold on to his neighbor. 
 However ludicrous this may have look- 
 ed, it was still very natural with the muz- 
 zle of a half-loaded cannon pointing full 
 toward you, and one is thankful to know 
 that with such dangerous weapons around 
 no serious harm was done. If you could 
 only see the fellow-countrymen of these 
 heroes, you would appreciate the story 
 better their wonderful diversity of 
 height, their equally marvelous diversity 
 of breadth, of garb and equipment. One 
 man will be over six feet high, a giant 
 in form and build, mounted on a splen- 
 did saddle fresh from the store, spick 
 and span in all details. His neighbor in 
 the ranks will be five feet nothing, and 
 an absolute circle as to shape : he will 
 have rolled with difficulty on to the back 
 of a gaunt steed, and his horse furniture 
 will consist of two old saddle-flaps sewn 
 together with a strip of bullock-hide, and 
 with a sheepskin thrown over all. You 
 may imagine that a regiment thus turn- 
 ed out would look somewhat droll to the 
 eyes of a martinet in such matters, even 
 without the addition of a cannon lying 
 on its back kicking, or a twirling rocket- 
 tube sputtering and fizzing. 
 
 JUNE 7. 
 
 Let me see what we have been doing 
 since I last wrote. I have had a Kafir 
 princess to tea with me, and we have 
 killed a snake in the baby's nursery. 
 That is to say, Jack killed the snake. 
 Jack does everything in the house, and 
 is at once the most amiable and the clev- 
 erest servant I ever had. Not Zulu Jack. 
 He is so deaf, poor boy ! he is not of 
 much use except to clean saucepans and 
 wash up pots and pans. He seems to 
 have no sense of smell either, because I 
 have to keep a strict watch over him that 
 he does not introduce a flavor of kerosene 
 oil into everything by his partiality for 
 wiping cups and plates with dirty lamp- 
 cloths instead of his own nice clean dust- 
 ers. But he is very civil and quiet, lei- 
 surely in all he does, and a strict conser- 
 vative in his notions of work, resenting 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 95 
 
 the least change of employment. No : 
 the other Jack is a tiny little man, also 
 a Zulu, but he speaks English well, and 
 it is his pride and delight to dress as an 
 English "boy" that is what he calls it 
 even to the wearing of agonizingly 
 tight boots on his big feet. Jack learns 
 all I can teach him of cooking with per- 
 fect ease, and gives us capital meals. 
 He is the bravest of the establishment, 
 and is always to the fore in a scrimmage, 
 generally dealing the coiip de grace in 
 all combats with snakes. In this in- 
 stance my first thought was to call Jack. 
 I had tried to open the nursery-door one 
 sunny midday to see if the baby was still 
 asleep, and could not imagine what it 
 was pressing so hard against the door 
 and preventing my opening it. I deter- 
 mined to see, and lo ! round the edge 
 darted the head of a large snake, held 
 well up in air, with the forked tongue 
 out. He must have been trying to get 
 out of the room, but I shut the door in 
 his face and called for Jack, arming my- 
 self with my riding -whip. Jack came 
 running up instantly, but declined all 
 offers of walking-sticks from the hall, 
 having no confidence in English sticks, 
 and preferring to trust only to his own 
 light strong staff. Cautiously we opened 
 the door again, but the snake was drawn 
 up in battle-array, coiled in a corner dif- 
 ficult to get at, and with outstretched 
 neck and darting head. Jack advanced 
 boldly, and fenced a little with the crea- 
 ture, pretending to strike it, but when he 
 saw a good moment he dealt one shrewd 
 blow which proved sufficient. Then I 
 suddenly became very courageous (after 
 Jack had cried with a grin of modest 
 pride, "Him dead now, inkosa-casa") 
 and hit him several cuts with my whip, 
 just to show my indignation at his hav- 
 ing dared to invade the nursery and to 
 drink up a cup of milk left for the baby. 
 Baby woke up, and was delighted with 
 the scrimmage, being extremely anxious 
 to examine the dead snake, now dang- 
 ling across Jack's stick. We all went 
 about with fear and suspicion after that 
 for some days, as the rooms all open on 
 to the verandah, and the snakes are very 
 fond of finding a warm, quiet corner to 
 
 hibernate in. There is now a strict search 
 instituted into all recesses into cup- 
 boards, behind curtains, and especially 
 into F 's tall riding -boots but al- 
 though several snakes have been seen 
 and killed quite close to the house, I am 
 bound to say this is the only one which 
 has come in-doors. Frogs hop in when- 
 ever they can, and frighten us out of our 
 lives by jumping out upon us in the dark, 
 as we always think it is a snake and not 
 a frog which startles us. It requires a 
 certain amount of persuasion and re- 
 monstrance now to induce any of us to 
 go into a room first in the dark, and 
 there have been many false alarms and 
 needless shrieks caused by the lash of 
 
 one of G 's many whips, or even a 
 
 boot-lace, getting trodden upon in the 
 dark. 
 
 My Kafir princess listened courteous- 
 ly to a highly dramatic narrative of this 
 snake adventure as conveyed to her 
 through the medium of Maria. But then 
 she listened courteously to everything, 
 and was altogether as perfect a specimen 
 of a well-bred young lady as you would 
 wish to see anywhere. Dignified and 
 self-possessed, without the slightest self- 
 assumption or consciousness, with the 
 walk of an empress and the smile of a 
 child, such was Mazikali, a young wid- 
 ow about twenty years of age, whose 
 husband (I can neither spell nor pro- 
 nounce his name) had been chief of the 
 Putili tribe, whose location is far away 
 to the north-west of us, by Bushman's 
 River, right under the shadow of the 
 great range of the Drakensberg. This 
 tribe came to grief in the late disturb- 
 ances apropos of Langalibalele, and lost 
 all their cattle, and what Mr. Wemmick 
 would call their "portable property," in 
 some unexplained way. We evidently 
 consider that it was what the Scotch call 
 "our blame," for every year there is a 
 grant of money from our colonial ex- 
 chequer to purchase this tribe ploughs 
 and hoes, blankets and mealies, and so 
 forth, but whilst the crops are growing it 
 is rather hard times for them, and their 
 pretty chieftainess occasionally comes 
 down to Maritzburg to represent some 
 particular case of suffering or hardship 
 
9 6 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 to their kind friend the minister for na- 
 tive affairs, who is always the man they 
 fly to for help in all their troubles. Poor 
 girl ! she is going through an anxious 
 time keeping the clanship open for her 
 only son, a boy five years old, whom she 
 proudly speaks of as " Captain Lucas," 
 but whose real name is Luke. 
 
 I was drinking my afternoon tea as 
 usual in the verandah one cold Sunday 
 afternoon lately when Mazikali paid me 
 this visit, so I had a good view of her as 
 she walked up the drive attended by her 
 maid of honor (one of whose duties is to 
 remove stones and other obstructions 
 from her lady's path), and closely fol- 
 lowed by about a dozen elderly, grave 
 "ringed" men, who never leave her, 
 and are, as it were, her body-guard. 
 There was something very pretty and 
 pathetic, to any one knowing how a Ka- 
 fir woman is despised by her lords and 
 masters, in the devotion and anxious 
 care and respect which these tall war- 
 riors and councilors paid to this gentle- 
 eyed, grave-faced girl. Their pride and 
 delight in my reception of her were the 
 most touching things in the world. I 
 went to meet her as she walked at the 
 head of her followers with her graceful 
 carriage and queenly gait. She gave me 
 her hand, smiling charmingly, and I led 
 her up the verandah steps and placed 
 her in a large arm-chair, and two or three 
 gentlemen who chanced to be there 
 raised their hats to her. The delight of 
 her people at all this knew no bounds : 
 their keen dusky faces glowed with pride, 
 and they raised their right hands in salu- 
 tation before sitting down on the edge of 
 the verandah, all facing their mistress, 
 and hardly taking their eyes off her for 
 a moment. Maria came to interpret for 
 us, which she did very prettily, smiling 
 sweetly ; but the great success of the af- 
 fair came from the baby, who toddled 
 round the corner, and seeing this bright- 
 ly-draped figure in a big chair, threw up 
 his little hand and cried "Bayete!" It 
 was quite a happy thought, and was rap- 
 turously received by the indunas with 
 loud shouts of "Inkosi! inkosi !" whilst 
 even the princess looked pleased in her 
 composed manner. I offered her some 
 
 tea, which she took without milk, man- 
 aging her cup and saucer, and even 
 spoon, as if -she had been used to it all 
 her life, though I confess to a slight feel- 
 ing of nervousness, remembering the 
 brittle nature of china as compared to 
 calabashes or to Kafir wooden bowls. 
 
 F gave each of her retinue a cigar, 
 
 which they immediately crumbled up 
 and took in the form of snuff with many 
 grateful grunts of satisfaction. 
 
 Now, there is nothing in the world 
 which palls so soon as compliments, and 
 our conversation, being chiefly of this 
 nature, began to languish dreadfully. 
 Maria had conveyed to the princess sev- 
 eral times my pleasure in receiving her, 
 and my hope that she and her people 
 would get over this difficult time and 
 prosper everlastingly. To this the prin- 
 cess had answered that her heart re- 
 joiced at having had its own way, and 
 directed her up the hill which led to my 
 house, and that even after she had de- 
 scended the path again, it would eternal- 
 ly remember the white lady. This was 
 indeed a figure of speech, for by dint of 
 living in the verandah, rushing out after 
 the children, and my generally gypsy 
 habits, Mazikali is not very much dark- 
 er than I am. All this time the little 
 maid of honor had sat shivering close 
 by, munching a large slice of cake and 
 staring with her big eyes at my English 
 nurse. She now broke silence by a fear- 
 fully distinct inquiry as to whether that 
 other white woman was not a secondary 
 or subsidiary wife. This question set 
 Maria off into such fits of laughter, and 
 covered poor little Nanna with so much 
 confusion, that as a diversion I brought 
 forward my gifts to the princess, consist- 
 ing of a large crystal cross and a pair of 
 .ear-rings. The reason I gave her these 
 ornaments was because I heard she had 
 parted with everything of that sort she 
 possessed in the world to relieve the dis- 
 tresses of her people. The cross hung 
 upon a bright ribbon which I tied round 
 her throat. All her followers sprang to 
 their feet, waved their sticks and cried, 
 "Hail to the chieftainess !" But, alas! 
 there was a professional beggar attached 
 to the party, who evidently considered 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 97 
 
 the opportunity as too good to be lost, 
 and drew Maria aside, suggesting that as 
 the white lady was evidently enormous- 
 ly rich and very foolish, it would be as 
 well to mention that the princess had 
 only skins of wild beasts to wear (she 
 had on a petticoat or kilt of lynx-skins, 
 and her shoulders were wrapped in a 
 gay striped blanket, which fell in grace- 
 ful folds nearly to her feet), and suffered 
 horribly from cold. He added that there 
 never was such a tiresome girl, for she 
 never would ask for anything ; and how 
 was she to get it without ? Besides which, 
 if she had such a dislike to asking for 
 herself, she surely might speak about 
 things for them : an old coat, now, or a 
 hat, would be highly acceptable to him- 
 self, and so would a little money. But 
 Mazikali turned quite fiercely on him, or- 
 dering him to hold his tongue, and de- 
 manding if that was the way to receive 
 kindness, by asking for more? 
 
 The beggar's remark, however, had 
 the effect of drawing my attention to 
 the princess's scanty garb. I have said 
 it was a bitterly cold evening, and so the 
 maid of honor pronounced it, shivering ; 
 so Nurse and I went to our boxes and 
 had a good hunt, returning with a warm 
 knitted petticoat, a shawl and two sets 
 of flannel bathing - dresses. One was 
 perfectly new, of crimson flannel trim- 
 med with a profusion of white braid. Of 
 course this was for the princess, and she 
 and her maiden retired to Maria's room 
 and equipped themselves, finding much 
 difficulty, however, in getting into the 
 bathing-suits, and marveling much at 
 the perplexing fashion in which white 
 women made their clothes. The maid 
 of honor was careful to hang her solitary 
 decorations, two small round bits of look- 
 ing - glass, outside her skeleton suit of 
 blue serge, and we found her an old 
 woolen table-cover which she arranged 
 into graceful shawl-folds with one clever 
 twist of her skinny little arm. Just as 
 they turned to leave the room, Maria 
 told me, this damsel said, " Now, ma'am, 
 if we only had a little red earth to color 
 our foreheads, and a few brass rings, we 
 should look very nice ;" but the princess 
 rejoined, "Whatever you do, don't ask 
 7 
 
 for anything;" which, I must say, I thought 
 very nice. So I led her back again to 
 her watchful followers, who hailed her 
 improved appearance with loud shouts 
 of delight. She then took her leave with 
 many simple and graceful protestations 
 of gratitude, but I confess it gave me a 
 pang when she said with a sigh, "Ah, if 
 all white inkosa-casas were like you, and 
 kind to us Kafir-women !" I could not 
 help thinking how little I had really done, 
 and how much more we might all do. 
 
 I must mention that, by way of amus- 
 ing Mazikali, I had shown her some large 
 photographs of the queen and the royal 
 family, explaining to her very carefully 
 who they all were. She looked very at- 
 tentively at Her Majesty's portrait, and 
 then held it up to her followers, who rose 
 of their own accord and saluted it with 
 the royal greeting of "Bayete !" and as 
 Mazikali laid it down again she remark- 
 ed pensively, " I am very glad the great 
 white chieftainess has such a kind face. 
 I should not be at all afraid of going to 
 tell her any of my troubles : I am sure 
 she is a kind and good lady." Mazikali 
 herself admired the princess of Wales' 
 portrait immensely, and gazed at it for a 
 long time, but I am sorry to say her fol- 
 lowers persisted in declaring it was only 
 a very pretty girl, and reserved all their 
 grunts and shouts of respectful admi- 
 ration for a portrait of the duke of Cam- 
 bridge in full uniform. " Oh ! the great 
 fighting inkosi ! Look at his sword and 
 the feathers in that beautiful hat ! How 
 the hearts of his foes must melt away 
 before his terrible and splendid face !" 
 But indeed on each portrait they had 
 some shrewd remark to make, tracing 
 family likenesses with great quickness, 
 and asking minute questions about re- 
 lationship, succession, etc. They took 
 a special interest in hearing about the 
 prince of Wales going to India, and im- 
 mediately wished His Royal Highness 
 would come here and shoot buffalo and 
 harte-beeste. 
 
 JUNE 15. 
 
 We had such a nice Cockney family 
 picnic ten days ago, on Whit-Monday ! 
 F had been bewailing himself about 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 this holiday beforehand, declaring he 
 should not know what to do with him- 
 self, and regretting that " holidays had 
 ever been invented, and so on, until I 
 felt that it was absolutely necessary to 
 provide him with some out-door occupa- 
 tion for the day. There was no anxiety 
 about the weather, for it is only too "set 
 fair" all round, and the water shrinks 
 away and the dust increases upon us day 
 by day. But there was an anxiety about 
 where to go and how to get to any place. 
 "Such a bad road!" was the objection 
 raised to every place I proposed, or else 
 it was voted too far. At last all difficul- 
 ties were met by a suggestion of spend- 
 ing a "happy day" at the falls of the 
 lower Umgeni, only a dozen miles away, 
 and the use of the mule-wagon. Every- 
 thing was propitious, even to the mate- 
 rials for a cold dinner being handy, and 
 we bundled in ever so many boys, Nurse 
 and myself, and Maria in her brightest 
 cotton frock and literally beaming with 
 smiles, which every now and then broke 
 out into a joyous, childish laugh of pure 
 delight at nothing at all. She came to 
 carry the baby, who loves her better than 
 any one, and who understands Kafir bet- 
 ter than English. The great thing was, 
 that everybody had the companions they 
 liked : as I have said, Baby had his Ma- 
 ria, F had secured a pleasant friend 
 
 to ride with him, so as to be independent 
 of the wagon, G had his two favor- 
 ite little schoolfellows, and I well, I had 
 the luncheon -basket, and that was quite 
 enough for me to think of. I kept re- 
 membering spasmodically divers omis- 
 sions made in the hurry of packing it 
 up ; for, like all pleasant parties, it was 
 quite a riwprevu, and that made me 
 rather anxious. It was really a delicious 
 morning, sunny and yet cool, with every- 
 thing around looking bright and glowing 
 under the beautiful light. The near hills 
 seemed to fold the little quiet town in 
 soft round curves melting and blending 
 into each other, whilst the ever-rising and 
 more distant outlines showed exquisite 
 indigo shadows and bold relief of purple 
 and brown. The greenery of spring and 
 summer is all parched and dried away 
 now, but the red African soil takes in 
 
 the distance warm hues and tints which 
 make up for the delicate coloring of 
 young grass. Here and there, as it 
 glows beneath the sun and a slow-sail- 
 ing cloud casts a shadow, it changes 
 from its own rich indescribable color to 
 the purple of a heather-covered Scotch 
 moor, but while one looks the cloud has 
 passed away, the violet tints die out, and 
 it is again a bare red hillside which lies 
 before you. A steep hillside, too, for the 
 poor mules, but they breast it bravely at 
 a jog trot, with their jangling bells and 
 patient bowed heads, and we are soon at 
 the top, looking down on the clouds of 
 our own dust. The wind or rather the 
 soft air, for it is hardly a wind blows 
 straight in our faces as we trot on toward 
 the south-west, and it drives the mass of 
 finely-powdered dust raised by the heels 
 of the six mules far behind us, to our 
 great contentment and comfort. The 
 two gentlemen on horseback are fain to 
 keep clear of us and our dust, and to take 
 a short cut whenever they can get off the 
 highroad, which in this case and at this 
 time of year is really a very good one. 
 Inside the wagon, under the high hood, 
 it is deliciously cool, but the boys are in 
 such tearing spirits that I don't know 
 what to do with them. Every now and 
 then, when we are going up hill, they 
 jump out of the wagon and search the 
 hillside for a yellow flower, a sort of ev- 
 erlasting, out of the petals of which they 
 extemporize shrill whistles ; and when 
 their invention in this line falls short, 
 Maria steps in with a fresh suggestion. 
 They make fearful pipes of reeds, they 
 chirp like the grasshoppers, they all chat- 
 ter and laugh together like so many mag- 
 pies. When I am quite at my wits' end I 
 produce buns, and these keep them quiet 
 for full five minutes, but not longer. 
 
 At last, after two hours' steady up-hiJl 
 pulling on the part of the mules, we have 
 reached the great plateau from which the 
 Umgeni takes its second leap, the first 
 being at Howick. There, the sight of the 
 great river rolling wide and swift between 
 its high banks keeps the boys quiet with 
 surprise and delight for a short space, 
 and before they have found their tongues 
 again the wagon has noisily crossed a re- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 99 
 
 sounding wooden bridge and drawn up 
 at the door of an inn. Here the mules 
 find rest and shelter, as well as their 
 Hottentot drivers, whilst we are only be- 
 ginning our day's work. As for the boys, 
 their whole souls are absorbed in their 
 fishing - rods : they grudge the idea of 
 wasting time in eating dinner, and stip- 
 ulate earnestly that they may be allow- 
 ed to "eat fast." We find and charter 
 a couple of tall Kafirs to carry the pro- 
 vision-baskets ; F and his compan- 
 ion take careful and tender charge each 
 of a bottle of beer ; Maria shoulders the 
 baby ; I cling to my little teapot ; Nurse 
 seizes a bottle of milk, and away we all 
 go down the dusty road again, over the 
 bridge (the boys don't want to go a yard 
 farther, for they see some Kafirs fish- 
 ing below), across a burnt-up meadow, 
 through scrub of terrible thorniness, and 
 so on, guided by the rush and roar of 
 the falling water, to our dining-room 
 among the great boulders beneath the 
 shade of the chief cascade. Unlike the 
 one grand, concentrated leap of the riv- 
 er we saw at Ho wick, here it tumbles in 
 a dozen places over a wide semicircular 
 ledge of basalt. It is no joke to any one 
 except the boys who seem to enjoy 
 tumbling about and grazing their elbows 
 and chins getting over the wet, slippery 
 rocks which have to be crossed to get to 
 the place we want. I tremble for the 
 milk and the beer, and the teapot and 
 I slip down repeatedly, but I am under 
 no apprehension about Maria and the 
 baby, for she plants her broad, big, bare 
 feet firmly on the rocks, and steps over 
 their wet, slippery surface with the ease 
 and grace of a stout gazelle. Once, and 
 once only, is she in danger, but it is be- 
 cause she is laughing so immoderately 
 at the baby's suggestion, made in lisping 
 Kafir when he first caught sight of the 
 waterfall, that we should all have a bath 
 there and then. 
 
 The falls are not in their fullest splen- 
 dor to-day, for this is the dry season, and 
 even the great Umgeni acknowledges the 
 drain of burning sunshine day after day, 
 and is rather more economical in her 
 display of tumbling water and iridescent 
 spray. Still, all is very beautiful, and in 
 
 spite of our hunger for we are all well- 
 nigh ravenous we climb various rocks 
 of vantage to see the fine semicircle of 
 cascades gleaming white among tufts of 
 green scrub and massive boulders. In 
 the wet season, of course, much that we 
 see now of rock and tree is hidden by 
 the greater volume of water, but they 
 add greatly to the sylvan beauty of the 
 fair scene. It is quite cold in the shade, 
 but we have no choice, for where the sun 
 shines invitingly there is not a foot of 
 level rock and not an inch of soft white 
 sand like the floor of our dining-room. 
 Such an indignant twitter as the birds 
 raise, hardly to be pacified by crumbs 
 and scraps of the rapidly- vanishing bread 
 and meat, salad and pudding ! But the 
 days are so short now that we cannot 
 spare ourselves half the time we want 
 either to eat or rest, or to linger and lis- 
 ten to the great monotonous roar of fall- 
 ing water, so agitating at first, so sooth- 
 ing after a little while. The boys have 
 bolted their dinner, plunged their heads 
 and hands under a tiny tricklet close by, 
 and are off to the shallows beneath the 
 bridge, where the river runs wide and 
 low, where geese are cackling on the 
 boulders, fish leaping in the pools, and 
 Kafir lads laughing and splashing on the 
 brink. We leave Baby and his nurse in 
 charge of the birds' dinner until the men 
 return for the lightened baskets, and we 
 three "grown-ups" start for a sharp scram- 
 ble up the face of the cliff, over the bed 
 of a dry watercourse, to look at the won- 
 derful expanse of the great river coming 
 down from the purple hills on the hori- 
 zon, sweeping across the vast, almost 
 level, plain in a magnificent tranquil 
 curve, wide as an inland lake, until it 
 falls abruptly over the precipice before 
 it. Scarcely a ripple on the calm sur- 
 face, scarcely a quickening of its steady, 
 tranquil flow, and yet it has gone, drop- 
 ped clean out of sight, and that monot- 
 onous roar is the noise of its fall. I 
 should like to see it in summer, when its 
 stately progress is quickened and its lim- 
 pid waters stained by the overflow of 
 countless lesser streams into its broad 
 bosom, and when its banks are fringed 
 with tufts of tall white arum lilies now 
 
100 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 only green folded leaves, shrunken as 
 close to the water's edge as they can get 
 and when the carpet of violets beneath 
 our feet is a sheet of blossom flecked with 
 gayer flowers all over this great spread- 
 ing veldt. To-day the wish of my heart, 
 of all our hearts, is for a canoe apiece. 
 Oh for the days of fairy thievery, to be 
 able to swoop down upon Mr. Searle's 
 yard and snatch up three perfect little 
 canoes, paddles, sails, waterproof aprons 
 and all, and put them down over there 
 by that clump of lilies and crimson 
 bushes ! What a race we could have for 
 clear eight miles up that shining reach, 
 between banks which are never nearer 
 than sixty or seventy feet to each other, 
 and where the river is as smooth as glass, 
 and free from let or hindrance to a canoe 
 for all that distance ! But, alas ! there 
 are neither roguish fairies nor stolen ca- 
 noes to be seen nothing except one's 
 rough-and-ready fishing-rod and the ev- 
 erlasting mealie-meal worked into a paste 
 for bait. We are too impatient to give it 
 a fair trial, although the fish are leaping 
 all around, for already the sun is travel- 
 ing fast toward those high western hills, 
 and when once he gets behind the tallest 
 of the peaks darkness will be upon us 
 in five minutes. We should be much 
 more careful of our minutes even, did 
 there not chance to be an early moon, 
 already a silver disk in yonder bright 
 blue sky. The homeward path is longer 
 and easier, and leads us more circuitous- 
 ly back to the bridge, beneath which I 
 
 am horrified to find G and his friends, 
 
 their fishing-rods and one small fish on 
 the bank, disporting themselves in the 
 water, with nothing on save their hats. 
 
 G is not at all dismayed at my shrill 
 
 reproaches to him from the high bridge 
 above, but suggests that I should throw 
 him down my pocket handkerchief for a 
 towel, and promises to dress and come 
 up to the house directly. So I, with the 
 thoughts of my tea in my mind for we 
 have not been able to have a fire at the 
 falls hurry up to the inn, and have time 
 for a look round before the boys are 
 ready. It is all so odd such a strange 
 jumble, such a thorough example of the 
 queer upside-down fashion of colonizing 
 
 which reigns here that I cannot help 
 describing it. A fairly good, straggling 
 house with sufficiently good furniture, 
 and plenty of it, and an apparent abun- 
 dance of good glass and crockery. A 
 sort of bar also, with substantial array 
 of bottles and tins of biscuits and pre- 
 served meats and pickles of all sorts and 
 kinds. But what I want you to bear in 
 mind is, that all this came from England, 
 and has finally been brought up here, 
 nearly seventy miles from the coast, at 
 an enormous trouble and expense. There 
 are several young white people about 
 the place, but a person of that class in 
 Natal is too fine to work, and in five min- 
 utes I hear fifty complaints of want of 
 labor and of the idleness of the Kafirs. 
 There is no garden, no poultry - yard, 
 no dairy. Here, with the means of irri- 
 gation at their very doors, with the pos- 
 sibility of food for cattle all the year 
 round at the cost of a little personal 
 trouble, there is neither a drop of milk 
 nor an ounce of butter to be had. Nor 
 an egg: "The fowls don't do so very 
 well." I should think not, with such ac- 
 commodation as they have in the way of 
 water and food. For more than twenty 
 years that house has stood there, a gen- 
 eration has grown up around it and in it, 
 and yet it might as well have been built 
 last year for all the signs of a homestead 
 about it. There is somewhere a mealie- 
 patch, and perhaps a few acres of green 
 forage, and that is all. Now, in Austra- 
 lia or New Zealand, in a more rigor- 
 ous climate, under far greater disadvan- 
 tages, the dwellers in that house would 
 have had farmyard and grain-fields, gar- 
 den and poultry-yard, about them in five 
 years, and all the necessary labor would 
 have been performed by the master and 
 mistress and their sons and daughters. 
 Here they all sit in-doors, listless and 
 discontented, grumbling because the 
 Kafirs won't come and work for them. 
 I can't make it out, and I confess I long 
 to give all this sort of colonists a good 
 shaking, and take away every single 
 Kafir from them. I am sure they would 
 get on a thousand times better. The 
 only thing is, it is too late to shake en- 
 ergy and thrift into elderly or already 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 101 
 
 grown-tjp people. They get on very 
 well as it is, they say, and make money, 
 which is all they care for, having no 
 pride in neatness or order, and setting 
 no value on the good opinion of others. 
 They can sell their beer and pickles and 
 tins of meat and milk at double and 
 treble what they cost ; and that is less 
 fatiguing than digging and fencing and 
 churning. So the tea has no milk and 
 the bread no butter where twenty years 
 ago cows were somewhere about five 
 shillings apiece, and we get on as well 
 as we can without them ; but I long, up 
 to the very last, to shake them all round, 
 especially the fat, pallid young people. 
 Fortunately for Her Majesty's peace, I 
 refrain from this expression of my opin- 
 ion, and get myself and all my boys into 
 the mule-wagon, and so off again, jog- 
 ging homeward before the sun has dip- 
 ped behind that great blue hill. Long 
 ere we have gone halfway the daylight 
 has all died away, and the boys find 
 fresh cause for shouts of delight at the 
 fantastic shadows the moon casts as she 
 glides in and out of her cloud-palaces. 
 
 It would have been an enchanting drive 
 home, wrapped up to the chin as we all 
 were, except for the dust. What air there 
 was came from behind us, from the same 
 point as it had blown in the morning, but 
 now we carried the dust along with us, 
 and were powdered snow-white by it. 
 Every hundred yards or so the drivers 
 put on the brake and whistled to the 
 
 mules to stop. They did not mind losing 
 sight altogether of the leaders in a dense 
 cloud of dust, nor even of the next pair, 
 but when the wheelers were completely 
 blotted out by the thick stirred-up mass 
 of fine dust, then they thought it high time 
 to pause and let it blow past us. But all 
 this stopping made the return journey 
 rather long and tedious, and all the curly 
 little heads were nodding on our shoul- 
 ders, only rousing up with a flicker of 
 the day's animation when we came to 
 where a grass-fire was sweeping over the 
 veldt, and our road a dusty but wide and 
 safe barrier against the sheets of crack- 
 ling flame. All along the horizon these 
 blazing belts showed brightly against the 
 deep twilight sky, sometimes racing up 
 the hills, again lighting up the valleys 
 with yellow belt and circle of smoke and 
 fire, but everywhere weird and picturesque 
 beyond the power of words to tell. 
 
 I noticed during that drive what I have 
 so often observed out here before the 
 curious layers of cold air. Sometimes 
 we felt our wraps quite oppressive : gen- 
 erally, this was when we were at the top 
 of a hill, or even climbing up it : then, 
 when we were crossing a valley or a nar- 
 row ravine, we seemed to drive into an 
 ice-cold region where we shivered be- 
 neath our furs ; and then again in five 
 minutes the air would once more be soft 
 and balmy crisp and bracing indeed, 
 but many degrees warmer than those 
 narrow arctic belts here and there. 
 
MARITZBURG, July 3, 187$. 
 
 I HAVE seen two Kafir weddings late- 
 ly, and, oddly enough, by the merest 
 chance they took place within a day or 
 two of each other. The two extremes 
 of circumstances, the rudest barbarism 
 and the culminating smartness of civil- 
 ization, seemed to jostle each other be- 
 fore my very eyes, as things do in a 
 dream. And they went backward, too, 
 to make it more perplexing, for it was 
 the civilized wedding I saw first the 
 wedding of people whose mothers had 
 been bought for so many cows, and 
 whose marriage-rites had probably been 
 celebrated with a stick, for your Kafir 
 bridegroom does not understand coy- 
 ness, and speedily ends the romance of 
 courtship by a few timely cuffs. 
 
 Well, then, I chanced to be in town 
 one of these fine bright winter mornings 
 (which would be perfect if it were not for 
 the dust), and I saw a crowd round the 
 porch of the principal church. "What 
 is going on?" I asked naturally, and 
 heard, in broken English dashed with 
 Dutch and Kafir, that there was an 
 "umtyado" (excuse phonetic spelling), 
 a"bruitlof," a"vedding." Hardly had 
 I gathered the meaning of all these terms 
 the English being by far the most dif- 
 ficult to recognize, for they put a click 
 in it than the bridal party came out of 
 church, formed themselves into an order- 
 ly procession and commenced to walk up 
 the exceedingly dusty street two by two. 
 They were escorted by a crowd of well- 
 wishers and a still greater crowd of spec- 
 tators more or less derisive, I regret to 
 state. But nothing upset the gravity and 
 decorum of the bride and bridegroom, 
 who walked first with a perfectly happy 
 and self-satisfied expression of face. 
 Uniforms were strictly excluded, and 
 the groom and his male friends prided 
 themselves on having discarded all their 
 miscellaneous red coats for the day, and ' 
 on being attired in suits of ready-made 
 102 
 
 tweed, in which they looked queerer 
 than words can say. Boots also had 
 they on their feet, to their huge discom- 
 fort, and white felt soft hats stuck more 
 or less rakishly on their elaborately 
 combed and woolly pates. The general 
 effect of the gentlemen, I am sorry to 
 say, was that of the Christy Minstrels, 
 but the ladies made up for everything. 
 I wish you could have seen the perfect 
 ease and grace of the bride as she paced 
 along with her flowing white skirts trail- 
 ing behind her in the dust and her lace 
 veil thrown over a wreath of orange- 
 flowers and hanging to the ground. It 
 was difficult to believe that probably not 
 long ago she had worn a sack or a fold 
 of coarse salempore as her sole clothing. 
 She managed her draperies, all snowy 
 white and made in the latest fashion, as 
 if she had been used to long gowns all 
 her life, and carried her head as though 
 it had never known red clay or a basket 
 of mealies. I could not see her features, 
 but face and throat and bare arms were 
 all as black as jet, and shone out in 
 strong relief from among her muslin 
 frills, and furbelows. There were many 
 yards of satin ribbon among these same 
 frills, and plenty of artificial flowers, but 
 everything was all white, shoes and all. 
 I am afraid she had " disremembered " 
 her stockings. The principal couple 
 were closely followed by half a dozen 
 other pairs of sable damsels, also "gown- 
 ed in pure white" and made wonderful 
 with many bows of blue ribbon. Each 
 maiden was escorted by a groomsman, 
 the rear-guard of guests trailing off into 
 colored cottons and patched suits. Ev- 
 erybody looked immensely pleased with 
 him and herself,, and I gradually lost 
 sight of them in the unfailing cloud of 
 dust which rises on the slightest provo- 
 cation at this time of year. I assure you 
 it was a great event, the first smart wed- 
 ding in Maritzburg among the Kafirs, 
 and I only hope the legal part is all 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 103 
 
 right, and that the bridegroom won't be 
 free to bring another wife home some 
 day to vex the soul of this smart lady. 
 Kafir marriage - laws are in a curious 
 state, and present one of the greatest 
 difficulties in the process of grafting civ- 
 ilized habits on the customs of utter bar- 
 barism. 
 
 In spite of the imposing appearance 
 of bride and bridegroom, in spite of the 
 good sign all this aping of our ways 
 really is, in spite of a hundred consider- 
 ations of that nature which ought to have 
 weighed with me, but did not, I fear I 
 took far more interest in a real Kafir 
 marriage, a portion of whose prelimin- 
 ary proceedings I saw two days after 
 this gala procession in white muslin and 
 gray tweed. I was working in the ve- 
 randah after breakfast for you must 
 know that it is so cold in-doors that we 
 all spend the middle part of the day 
 basking like lizards in the delicious 
 warmth of sunny air outside when I 
 heard a distant but loud noise beyond 
 the sod fence between us and a track 
 leading over the hills, in whose hollows 
 many a Kafir kraal nestles snugly. I 
 knew it must be something unusual, for 
 I saw all our Kafirs come running out 
 in a state of great excitement, calling to 
 
 each other to make haste. G too 
 
 left the funeral obsequies of a cat-mur- 
 dered pigeon in which he was busily 
 employed, and scampered off to the 
 gate, shouting to me to come and see. 
 So I, who am the idlest mortal in the 
 world, and dearly love an excuse for 
 leaving whatever rational employment 
 I am engaged upon, snatched up the 
 baby, who was supremely happy dig- 
 ging in the dust in the sunshine, called 
 Maria in case there might be anything 
 to explain, and ran off to the gate also. 
 But there was nothing to be seen, not 
 even dust: we only heard a sound of 
 monotonous singing and loud grunting 
 coming nearer and nearer, and by and 
 by a muffled tread of bare hurrying feet 
 shuffling through the ,powdered earth of 
 the track. My own people had clam- 
 bered up on the fence, and were gestic- 
 ulating wildly and laughing and shout; 
 ing, Tom waving the great wooden spoon 
 
 with which he stirs his everlasting " scoff." 
 "What is it, Maria?" I asked. Maria 
 shook her head and looked very solemn, 
 saying " I doan know," but even while she 
 spoke a broad grin broke all over her face, 
 and she showed her exquisite teeth from 
 ear to ear as she said, half contemptu- 
 ously, " It's only a wild Kafir wedding, 
 lady. There are the warriors: that's 
 what they do when they don't know any 
 better." Evidently, Maria inclined to the 
 long white muslin gown of the civilized 
 bride which I had so minutely described 
 to her, and she turned away in disdain. 
 Yes, here they come first, a body of 
 stalwart warriors dressed in skins, with 
 immense plumes of feathers on their 
 heads, their lithe, muscular bodies shin- 
 ing like ebony as they flash past me 
 not so quickly, however, but that they 
 have time for the politesse of tossing up 
 shields and spears with a loud shout of 
 " Inkosi !" which salutation the baby, who 
 takes it entirely to himself, returns with 
 great gravity and unction. These are 
 the vanguard, the flower of Kafir chiv- 
 alry, who are escorting the daughter of 
 a chieftain to her new home in a kraal 
 on the opposite range of hills. They 
 make it a point of honor to go as quick- 
 ly as possible, for they are like the stroke 
 oar and give the time to the others. After 
 them come the male relatives of the bride, 
 a motley crew, numerous, but altogether 
 wanting in the style and bearing of the 
 warriors. Their garb, too, is a wretched 
 mixture, and a compromise between 
 clothes and no clothes, and they shuf- 
 fle breathlessly along, some with sacks 
 over their shoulders, some with old tu- 
 nics of red or blue and nothing else, and 
 some only with two flaps or aprons. But 
 all wear snuffboxes in their ears snuff- 
 boxes made of every conceivable mate- 
 rial hollow reeds, cowries, tiger-cats' 
 teeth, old cartridge-cases, acorn-shells, 
 empty chrysalises of some large moth 
 all sorts of miscellaneous rubbish 
 which could by any means be turned to 
 this use. Then comes a more compact 
 and respectable -looking body of men, 
 all with rings on their heads, the Kafir 
 sign and token of well-to-do-ness, with 
 bare legs, but draped in bright-colored 
 
104 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 rugs or blankets. They too fling up 
 their right arm and cry "Inkosi!" as 
 they race along, but are more intent on 
 urging on their charge, the bride, who is 
 in their midst. Poor girl ! she has some 
 five or six miles yet to go, and she looks 
 ready to drop now ; but there seems to 
 be no consideration for her fatigue, and 
 I observe that she evidently shrinks from 
 the sticks which her escort flourish about. 
 She is a good-looking, tall girl, with a nice 
 expression in spite of her jaded and hur- 
 ried air. She wears only a large sheet of 
 coarse brownish cloth draped gracefully 
 and decently around her, leaving, how- 
 ever, her straight, shapely legs bare to 
 run. On her right arm she too bears a 
 pretty little shield made of dun and 
 white ox hide, and her face is smeared 
 over brow and cheeks with red clay, 
 her hair also being tinged with it. She 
 glances wistfully, I fancy, at Maria stand- 
 ing near me in her good clothes and with 
 her fat, comfortable look. Kafir girls 
 dread being married, for it is simply 
 taking a hard place without wages. Love 
 has very rarely anything to do with the 
 union, and yet the only cases of murder 
 of which I have heard have been com- 
 mitted under the influence of either love 
 or jealousy. This has always seemed 
 odd to me, as a Kafir girl does not appear 
 at all prone to one or the other. When 
 I say to Maria, "Perhaps you will want 
 to marry some day, Maria, and leave 
 me?" she shakes her head vehemently, 
 and says, " No, no, I should not like to 
 do that : I should have to work much 
 harder, and no one would be kind to 
 me." Maria too looks compassionately 
 at her savage sister racing along, and 
 murmurs, " Maria would not like to have 
 to run so fast as that." Certainly, she is 
 not in good condition for a hand gallop 
 across these hills, for she is bursting out 
 of all her gowns, although she is grow- 
 ing very tall as well. 
 
 There is no other woman in the bridal 
 cavalcade, which is a numerous one, and 
 closes with a perfect mob of youths and 
 boys grunting and shuffling along. Ma- 
 ria says doubtfully, "I think they are 
 only taking that girl to look at her kraal. 
 She won't be married just yet, for they 
 
 say the heer is not ready so soon." This 
 information is shouted out as some of 
 the party rush past us, but I cannot 
 catch the exact words amid the loud mo- 
 notonous song with a sort of chorus or 
 accompaniment of grunts. 
 
 Ever since my arrival I have wanted to 
 see a real Kafir kraal, but the difficulty 
 has been to find one of any size and re- 
 taining any of the distinctive features of 
 such places. There are numbers of *hem 
 all about the hills which surround Maritz- 
 burg, but they are poor degenerate things, 
 the homes of the lowest class of Kafir, a 
 savage in his most disgusting and dan- 
 gerous state of transition, when he is 
 neither one thing nor the other, and has 
 picked up only the vices of civilization. 
 Such kraals would be unfavorable spe- 
 cimens of a true Kafir village, and only 
 consist of half a dozen ruinous, filthy 
 hovels whose inhabitants would probably 
 beg of you. For some time past I had 
 been inquiring diligently where a really 
 respectable kraal could be found, and at 
 last I heard of one about eight miles off, 
 whose "induna" or head-man gave it a 
 very good character. Accordingly, we 
 set out on a broiling afternoon, so early 
 in the day that the sun was still beating 
 down on us with all his summer tricks 
 of glowing heat and a fierce fire of bright- 
 est rays. The road was steep over hill 
 and dale, and it was only when we had 
 climbed to the top of each successive ridge 
 that a breath of cool breeze greeted us. 
 A strange and characteristic panorama 
 gradually spread itself out before and 
 behind us. After the first steep ascent 
 we lost sight of Maritzburg and its bosky 
 streets. From the next ridge we could 
 well see the regular ring of wooded 
 homesteads which lie in a wide circle 
 outside the primitive little town. Each 
 rising down had a couple or so of these 
 suburban villas hid away in gum trees 
 clinging to its swelling sides. Melan- 
 choly-looking sides they were now, and 
 dreary was the immediate country around 
 us, for grass-fires had swept the hills for 
 a hundred miles and more, and far as 
 the eye could reach all was black, sere 
 and arid, the wagon-tracks alone winding 
 about in dusty distinctness. The streams 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 I0 5 
 
 had shrunk away to nothing, and scarce- 
 ly showed between their high banks. It 
 was a positive relief to horse and rider 
 when we had clambered up the rocky 
 track across the highest saddle we had 
 yet needed to mount. Close on our left 
 rose, some three hundred feet straight up 
 against the brass-bright sky, a big bluff 
 with its basalt sides cut down clean and 
 sharp as though by a giant's knife. In 
 its cold shade a few stunted bushes were 
 feebly struggling to keep their scraggy 
 leaves and branches together, and on 
 the right the ground fell irregularly away 
 down to a valley in which were lovely 
 patches of young forage, making a ten- 
 der green oasis, precious beyond words 
 in contrast with the black and sun-dried 
 desolation of the hills around. Here too 
 were the inevitable gum trees, not to be 
 despised at this ugly time of year, al- 
 though they are for all the world like 
 those stiff wooden trees, all of one pat- 
 tern, peculiar to the model villages in the 
 toys of our youth. With quite as little 
 grace and beauty do these gum trees 
 grow, but yet they are the most valuable 
 things we possess, being excellent nat- 
 ural drainers of marshy soil, kindly ab- 
 sorbers of every stray noxious vapor, and 
 good amateur lightning-conductors into 
 the bargain. Amid these much-abused, 
 not-to-be-done-without trees, then, agable 
 peeped : it was evidently a thriving, com- 
 fortable homestead, yet here my friendly 
 guide and companion drew rein and look- 
 ed around with deep perplexity on his 
 kindly face. 
 
 " How beautiful the view is !" I cried 
 in delight, for indeed the distant sweep 
 of ever-rising mountains, the splendid 
 shadows lying broad and deep over the 
 hills and valleys, the great Umgeni, dis- 
 daining even this long drought, and shin- 
 ing here and there like a silver ribbon, 
 now widening into a mere, now making 
 almost an island of some vast tract of 
 country, but always journeying "with a 
 gentle ecstasy," were all most beautiful. 
 The burnt-up patches gave only a brown 
 umber depth to the hollows in the island 
 hills, and the rich red soil glowed bright- 
 ly on the bare downs around us as the 
 westering sun touched and warmed them 
 
 into life and color. I was well content 
 to drop the reins on my old horse's neck 
 whilst I gazed with greedy eyes on the 
 fair scene, which I felt would change and 
 darken in a very short while. Perhaps 
 it was also this thought which made my 
 companion say anxiously, " Yes, but look 
 how fast the sun is dropping behind that 
 high hill ; and where is the kraal ? It 
 ought to be exactly here, according to 
 Mazimbulu's directions, and yet I don't 
 see a sign of it, do you ?" 
 
 If his eyes, accustomed since child- 
 hood to every nook and cranny in these 
 hills, could not make out where the kraal 
 hid, little chance was there of mine find- 
 ing it out. But even he was completely 
 at fault, and looked anxiously arouncj 
 like a deer-hound which has lost the 
 scent. The narrow track before us led 
 straight on into the interior for a couple 
 of hundred miles, and in all the pano- 
 rama at our feet we could not see trace 
 or sign of living creature, nor could the 
 deadliest silence bring sound of voice or 
 life to our strained ears. 
 
 " I dare not take you any farther," Mr. 
 
 Y said : "it is getting much too late 
 
 already. But how provoking to come all 
 this way and have to go back without 
 finding the kraal !" In vain I tried to 
 comfort him by assurances of how pleas- 
 ant the ride had been, beguiled by many 
 a hunting-story of days when lions and 
 elephants drank at the stream before us, 
 and when no man's hand ever lost its 
 clasp of his g\m, sleeping or waking. We 
 had come to see a kraal, and it was an 
 expedition manque if we could not find 
 it. Still, the sun seemed in a tremendous 
 hurry to reach the shelter of that high 
 hill yonder, and even I was constrained 
 to acknowledge we must not go farther 
 along the rocky track before us. At this 
 moment of despair there came swiftly 
 and silently round the sharp edge of the 
 bluff just ahead of us two Kafir-women, 
 with huge bundles of firewood on their 
 heads, and walking rapidly along, as 
 though in a hurry to get home. To my 
 companion Kafir was as familiar as Eng- 
 lish, so he was at no loss for pleasant words 
 and still more pleasant smiles with which 
 to ask the wav to Mazimbuln's kraal. 
 
io6 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 " We go there now, O great chieftain !" 
 the women answered with one voice ; and, 
 true to the savage code of politeness, they 
 betrayed no surprise as to what we could 
 possibly want at their kraal so late. We 
 had scarcely noticed a faint narrow track 
 on the burnt-up ground to our right, but 
 into this the women unhesitatingly struck, 
 and we followed them as best we could. 
 Scarcely three hundred yards away from 
 the main track, round the shoulder of a 
 down, and nestling close in a sort of nat- 
 ural basin scooped out of the hillside, was 
 the kraal, silent enough now, for all except 
 a few old men and babies were absent. 
 The women, like our guides, were out 
 collecting firewood ; some of the young- 
 er men and bigger children had gone 
 into town to sell poultry and eggs ; others 
 were still at work for the farmer whose 
 homestead stood a mile or two away. 
 There must have been at least a hundred 
 goats skipping about beneath the steep 
 hillside down which we had just come 
 goats who had ventured to the very edge 
 of the shelf along which our bridle-path 
 had lain, and yet who had never by bleat 
 or inquisitive protruded head betrayed 
 their presence to us. In the centre of 
 the excavation stood a large, high, neat- 
 ly-wattled fence, forming an enclosure 
 for the cattle at night, a remnant of the 
 custom when Kafir herds were ravaged 
 by wild animals and still wilder neigh- 
 bors. A very small angle of this place 
 was portioned off as a sty for the biggest 
 and mangiest pig it has ever been my 
 lot to behold a gaunt and hideous beast, 
 yet the show animal of the kraal, and 
 the first object which Mazimbulu pointed 
 out to us. Of course, Mazimbulu was at 
 home : what is the use of being an in- 
 duna if you have to exert yourself? He 
 came forward at once to receive us, and 
 did the honors of his kraal most thor- 
 oughly and with much grace and dignity. 
 
 Mr. Y explained that I was the wife 
 
 of another inkosi, and that I was con- 
 sumed by a desire to see with my own 
 eyes a real Kafir kraal. It is needless 
 to say that this was pleasantly conveyed, 
 and a compliment to this particular kraal 
 neatly introduced here. 
 
 Mazimbulu an immensely tall, pow- 
 
 erful elderly man, "ringed" of course, 
 and draped in a large gay blanket 
 looked at me with half- contemptuous 
 surprise, but saluted to carry off his 
 wonder, and said deprecatingly to Mr. 
 Y : "O chief, the chieftainess is wel- 
 come; but what a strange people are 
 these whites ! They have all they can 
 desire, all that is good and beautiful of 
 their own, yet they can find pleasure in 
 looking at where we live ! Why, chief, 
 you know their horses and dogs have 
 better places to sleep in than we h^ve. 
 It is all most wonderful, but the chief- 
 tainess may be sure we are glad to see 
 her, no matter for what reason she 
 comes." 
 
 There was not very much to see, af- 
 ter all. About twenty large, substan- 
 tial, comfortable huts, all of the beehive 
 shape, stood in a crescent, the largest in 
 the middle. This belonged to Mazim- 
 bulu, and in front of it knelt his newest 
 wife, resting on her heels and cutting up 
 pumpkins into little bits to make a sort 
 of soup, or what she called "scoff." I 
 think young Mrs. Mazimbulu was one 
 of the handsomest and sulkiest Kafir- 
 women I have yet seen. She was very 
 smart in beads and bangles, her coiffure 
 was elaborate and carefully stained red, 
 her blanket and petticoat were gay and 
 warm and new, and yet she looked the 
 very picture of ill-humor. The vicious 
 way she cut up her pumpkins and pitch- 
 ed the slices into a large pot, the sar- 
 castic glances she cast at Mazimbulu as 
 he invited me to enter his hut, declaring 
 that he was so fortunate in the matter of 
 wives that I should find it the pink of 
 cleanliness ! Nothing pleased her, and 
 she refused to talk to me or to "saka 
 bono," or anything. I never saw such 
 a shrew, and wondered whether poor 
 Mazimbulu had not indeed got a hand- 
 ful in this his latest purchase. And yet 
 he looked quite capable of taking care 
 of himself, and his hand had probably 
 lost none of its old cunning in boxing a 
 refractory bride's ears, for the damsel in 
 question seemed rather on the watch as 
 to how far she might venture to show her 
 temper. Such a contrast as her healthy, 
 vigorous form made to that of a slight, 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 107 
 
 sickly girl who crawled out of an adjoin- 
 ing hut to see the wonderful spectacle 
 of an "inkosa-casa" ! This poor thing 
 was a martyr to sciatica, and indeed had 
 rheumatism apparently in all her joints. 
 She moved aside her kilt of lynx skins 
 to show me a terribly swollen knee, 
 saying plaintively in Kafir, " I ache all 
 over, for always." Mazimbulu declared 
 in answer to my earnest inquiries that 
 they were all very kind to her, and prom- 
 ised faithfully that a shilling which I put 
 in her hand should remain her own prop- 
 erty. " Physic or beads, just as she likes," 
 he vowed, but seemed well content when 
 I gave another coin into his own hand 
 for snuff. There were not many babies 
 only three or four miserable sickly crea- 
 tures, all over sores and dirt and ophthal- 
 mia. Yet the youth who held our horses 
 
 whilst we walked about and Mr. Y 
 
 chatted fluently with Mazimbulu might 
 have stood for the model of a bronze 
 Apollo, so straight and tall and sym- 
 metrical were his shapely limbs and his 
 lithe, active young body. He too shout- 
 ed " Inkosa-casa !" in rapturous gratitude 
 for a sixpence which I gave him, and vow- 
 ed to bring me fowls to buy whenever the 
 young chickens all around should be big 
 enough. 
 
 My commissariat is always on my 
 mind, and I never lose an opportunity 
 of replenishing it, but I must confess 
 that I get horribly cheated whenever I 
 try bargaining on my own account. For 
 instance, I sent out a roving commission 
 the other day for honey, which resulted 
 in the offer of a small jar containing per- 
 haps one pound of empty, black and 
 dirty comb and a tablespoonful of honey, 
 which apparently had already been used 
 to catch flies. For this treasure eight 
 shillings were asked. To-day I tried to 
 buy a goat from Mazimbulu, but he hon- 
 estly said it would be of no use to me, 
 nor could I extract a promise of milk 
 from the cows I saw coming home just 
 then. He declared that there was no 
 milk to be had ; and certainly, when 
 one looks at the surrounding pasture, 
 it is not incredible. 
 
 Mazimbulu's own hut contained little 
 beyond a stool or two, some skins and 
 
 mats for a bed, a heap of mealie-husks 
 with which to replenish the fire, his shield 
 and a bundle of assegais and knobkerries. 
 There was another smaller wattled en- 
 closure holding a great store of mealies, 
 and another piled up with splendid pump- 
 kins. At the exact top of Mazimbulu's hut 
 stood a perfect curiosity-shop of lightning- 
 charms old spear -points, shells, the 
 broken handle of a china jug, and a 
 painted portion of some child's toy : all 
 that is mysterious or unknown to them 
 must perforce be a lightning - charm. 
 They would no more use a conductor 
 than they would fly, declaring triumph- 
 antly that our houses, for all their "fire- 
 wires," get more often struck by light- 
 ning than their huts. Indeed, Mazim- 
 bulu became quite pathetic on the sub- 
 ject of the personal risk I was running on 
 account of my prejudice against his light- 
 ning-charms, and hinted that I should 
 come to a bad end some day through 
 it. 
 
 By the time we had spent half an hour 
 in the kraal the sun had long since gain- 
 ed the shelter of the western hills and 
 sunk behind them, taking with him ap- 
 parently every vestige of daylight out 
 of the sky. No one who has not felt it 
 could believe the rapidity of the change 
 in the temperature. So long as there was 
 sunlight it was too hot. In half an hour 
 it was bitingly, bitterly cold. We could 
 not go fast down the rocky tracks, but 
 we cantered over every inch of available 
 space cantered for the sake of warming 
 ourselves as much as to get home. The 
 young moon gave us light enough to 
 keep on the right track, but I don't think 
 I ever was so cold in my life as when we 
 reached home about half-past six. The 
 wood-fire in the little drawing-room the 
 only room with a fireplace seemed in- 
 deed delicious, and so did a cup of tea 
 
 so hot as to be almost scalding. F 
 
 declared that I was of a bright-blue col- 
 or, and I admit that I came nearer to un- 
 derstanding what being frozen to death 
 meant than I had ever done before. 
 Yet there was not much frost, but one 
 suffered from the reaction after the burn- 
 ing heat of the day and from the impos- 
 sibility of taking any wraps with one. 
 
io8 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 JULY 12. 
 
 Don't think I am going to let you off 
 from my usual monthly grumble about 
 the weather. Not a bit of it ! It is worse 
 than ever. At this moment a violent and 
 bitterly cold gale of wind is blowing, and 
 I hear the red tiles flying off the house, 
 which I fully expect will be a regular 
 sieve by the time the rains come. Not 
 one drop of rain have we had these six 
 weeks, and people remark that "the dry 
 season is beginning" Everything smells 
 and tastes of dust one's clothes, the fur- 
 niture, everything. If I sit down in an 
 arm-chair, I disturb a cloud of dust ; my 
 pillow is, I am convinced, stuffed with it; 
 my writing-table is inches deep in it. All 
 the food is flavored with it, and Don Quix- 
 ote's enemies could not more persistently 
 "bite the dust" than we do at each meal. 
 Yet when I venture to mention this draw- 
 back in answer to the usual question, "Is 
 not this delicious weather ?" the answer is 
 always, " Oh, but you can have no dust 
 here : you should see what it is in town !" 
 Between us and the town is an ever-fly- 
 ing scud of dust, through which we can 
 but ill discern the wagons. I wonder 
 there are no accidents, for one often 
 hears a wagon before and behind one 
 when it is impossible to see anything 
 through the choking, suffocating cloud 
 around one. Of a still day, when you car- 
 ry your own dust quietly along with you, 
 there is nothing for it except to stop at 
 home if you wish to keep your temper. 
 
 The other day little G was about to 
 
 suffer the extreme penalty of the domes- 
 tic law for flagrant disobedience, and he 
 remarked dryly to the reluctant execu- 
 tioner, "You had better take care : I am 
 very dusty" It was quite true, for the 
 slipper elicited such clouds of dust from 
 the little blue serge suit that the chas- 
 tisement had to be curtailed, much to 
 the culprit's satisfaction. As for the 
 baby, he was discovered the other day 
 taking a dust - bath exactly like the 
 chickens, and considered it very hard 
 to be stopped in his amusement. Every 
 now and then we have a dust-storm: 
 there have been two this month already, 
 perfect hurricanes of cold wind driving 
 the dust in solid sheets before them. 
 
 Nearer the coast these storms have been 
 followed by welcome rain, but here we 
 are still dry and parched. The only 
 water-supply we (speaking individually) 
 have is brought in buckets from the river, 
 about half a mile off, and one has to wash 
 in it and drink it with closed eyes. But it 
 cannot be unwholesome, thank Heaven ! 
 for most of us take nothing else and are 
 very well. I owe it a grudge, however, 
 on account of its extraordinary hardness. 
 Not only does it spoil the flavor of my be- 
 loved tea, but it chaps our skins fright- 
 fully ; and what with the dust in the 
 pores, and the chronic irritation caused 
 by some strange peculiarity in the cli- 
 mate, we are all like nutmeg -graters, 
 and one can understand the common- 
 sense of a Kafir's toilette, into which 
 grease enters largely. Yet in spite of 
 dust and dryness for everything is 
 ludicrously dry, sugar and salt are so 
 many solid cakes, not to be dealt with 
 by means of a spoon at all one is very 
 thankful for the cold, bracing weather, 
 and unless there is a necessity for front- 
 ing the dust, we contrive to enjoy many 
 of the pleasant sunshiny hours in the ve- 
 randah ; and I rejoice to see the roses 
 blooming again in the children's cheeks. 
 Every evening we have a wood-fire on 
 the open hearth in the drawing-room, 
 and there have been sharp frosts lately. 
 The waving tips of the poor bamboos 
 look sadly yellow, but I have two fine 
 flourishing young camellias out of doors 
 without shelter of any kind, and my sup- 
 ply of roses has never failed from those 
 trees which get regularly watered. The 
 foliage, too, of the geraniums is as lux- 
 uriant as ever, though each leaf is white 
 with dust, but the first shower will make 
 them lovely once more. 
 
 Quail passed over here a few days ago 
 in dense, solid clouds, leaving many 
 weary stragglers here and there on the 
 veldt to delight the sportsmen. I am 
 told it is a strange and wonderful sight 
 to see these birds sweep sometimes in 
 the dead silence of a moonlight night, 
 flying low and compactly, beating the air 
 with the monotonous whir of their un- 
 tiring wings down one of the wide, 
 empty streets of quiet Maritzburg, so 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 109 
 
 close to the bystander that a stick would 
 knock some over. And to think of the 
 distance they have traveled thus ! For 
 hundreds and hundreds of miles, over 
 deserts and lakes at whose existence we 
 can but dimly guess, the little wayfarers 
 have journeyed, from the far interior 
 down to the seaboard of this great con- 
 tinent. Last season a weary pair drop- 
 ped down among my rose-bushes, but no 
 sportsman knew of their visit, for I found 
 them established there when I came, and 
 jealously guarded their secret for them ; 
 but I don't know yet whether any others 
 have claimed my hospitality and protec- 
 tion, in the same way, poor pretty crea- 
 tures ! 
 
 I was seized with a sudden wish the 
 other day to see the market here, and 
 accordingly got my household up very 
 early one of these cold mornings, hur- 
 ried breakfast over, and drove down to 
 the market-square exactly at nine A. M., 
 when the sales commence. Everything 
 is sold by auction, but sold with a rapid- 
 ity which seemed magical to me. I 
 saw some fine potatoes a dozen yards 
 away from where the market-master was 
 Celling with lightning speed wagon-load 
 after wagon-load of fresh green forage. 
 I certainly heard " Two and a halfpenny, 
 two and three farthings thank you ! 
 gone !" coming rather near, and I had 
 gone so far in my own mind as to deter- 
 mine which of my friends for heaps of 
 people I knew were there I should ask 
 to manage it for me. But like a wave 
 the bidding swept over my potatoes I 
 quite looked upon them as mine and 
 they were gone. So, as I did not want 
 any firewood, and there were only about 
 a dozen huge wagons piled high up with 
 lopped branches and limbs of trees, and 
 as I had begun to perceive that a dozen 
 wagon-loads were nothing to the rapid 
 utterance of the market-master, I went 
 into the market-hall to look at the fruit 
 and vegetables, eggs and butter, with 
 which the tables were fairly well cover- 
 ed. There was very little poultry, and 
 a pair of ducks toward which I felt some- 
 what attracted went for six shillings six- 
 pence each, directly the bidding began. 
 So I consoled myself by purchasing, still 
 
 in a vicarious manner by means of a 
 friend, three turkeys. Such a bargain ! 
 the only cheap things I have seen in 
 Natal. Only nine shillings ninepence 
 apiece! beautiful full-grown turkeys 
 two hens and a cock, just what I wanted. 
 Of course, everybody clustered round me, 
 and began to damp my joy directly by 
 pouring statistics into my ears of the 
 mortality among turkey-chicks and the 
 certain ill-fortune which would attend my 
 efforts to rear them. But it is too early 
 in the season yet for such anxieties, and 
 I am free for the next two months to 
 admire my turkeys as much as I choose 
 without breaking my heart over the un- 
 timely fate of their offspring. Yes, these 
 turkeys were the only cheap things : 
 butter sold easily at three shillings nine- 
 pence a pound, eggs at three shillings a 
 dozen, and potatoes and other vegetables 
 at pretty nearly Covent Garden prices. 
 It gave one a good idea of the chronic 
 state of famine even so little a town as 
 this lives in to see the clean sweep made 
 of every single thing, live and dead 
 always excepting my turkeys in ten 
 minutes after the market-master entered 
 the building. I am sure treble the quan- 
 tity would have been snapped up quite 
 as quickly. Such odd miscellaneous 
 things! bacon, cheese, pumpkins, all 
 jumbled together. Then outside for a 
 few moments, to finish up with a few 
 wheelbarrows of green barley, a basket 
 or two of mealies, and some fagots of 
 firewood brought in by the Kafirs ; and 
 lo! in something less than an hour it 
 was all over, and hungry Maritzburg 
 had swallowed up all she could get for 
 the day. The market-master was now 
 at liberty after explaining to a Kafir 
 or two that it was not, strictly speaking, 
 right to sell your wheelbarrow-load twice 
 over, once privately and once publicly 
 to show me the market-hall, a very cred- 
 itable building, large and commodious, 
 well roofed and lighted. Knowing as I 
 did the exceeding slowness of build- 
 ing operations in Maritzburg, it struck 
 me as little less than marvelous to hear 
 that it had actually been run up in twen- 
 ty-one days. No lesser pressure than 
 Prince Alfred's visit about fifteen years 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 ago could have induced such Aladdin- 
 like rapidity ; but the loyal Maritzburg- 
 ers wanted to give their sailor-prince a 
 ball, and there was no room in the whole 
 town capable of holding one-quarter of 
 the people who wanted to see the royal 
 midshipman. So Kafirs and whites and 
 men of all colors fell to with a will, and 
 hammered night and day until all was 
 finished, extempore chandeliers of paint- 
 ed hoops dangling in all directions, flow- 
 ers and flags hiding the rough-and-ready 
 walls, and the " lion and the unicorn fight- 
 ing for the crown " in orthodox fashion 
 over the doorway, where they remain to 
 this day. The only thing that puzzles me 
 is whether the floor was at all more even 
 then than now, for at present it is near- 
 ly as much up and down as the waves 
 of the Indian Ocean. 
 
 Now, too, that there were no more 
 domestic purchases to be made, I could 
 look about and see how quaint and pic- 
 turesque it all was. In summer the effect 
 must really be charming with the double 
 bordering of acacia trees fresh and green 
 instead of leafless and dusty ; the queer 
 little Dutch church, with its hugely dis- 
 proportionate weathercock shining large 
 and bright in the streaming sunlight ; the 
 teams of patient bullocks moving slowly 
 off again through the dust with wagons 
 of forage or firewood to be dragged to 
 their various destinations ; and the fast- 
 melting, heterogeneous crowd of Kafirs 
 and coolies, Dutch and English some 
 with baskets, some with dangling poultry 
 or carefully-carried tins of eggs, but none 
 with turkeys. The market-hall and its 
 immediate vicinity became quite desert- 
 ed, but the crowd seemed reassembling a 
 little lower down, where a weekly auction 
 was being held in a primitive fashion out 
 in the open air beneath the acacia trees. 
 A stalwart Kafir wandered about listless- 
 ly ringing a large bell, and the auction- 
 eer, mounted on a table, was effecting 
 what he called a clearance sale, appar- 
 ently of all the old rubbish in the place. 
 Condemned military stores, such as tents 
 and greatcoats, pianos from which the 
 very ghost of tone had fled years ago, 
 cracked china, broken chairs, crinolines, 
 fiddles, kettles, faded pictures under fly- 
 
 blown glasses, empty bottles, old baskets, 
 all were "going, going, gone" whilst 
 we stood there, drifting away to other 
 homes all over the place. I pass every 
 day an ingenious though lowly family 
 mansion made solely and entirely of the 
 sheets of zinc out of boxes, fastened to- 
 gether in some strange fashion : roof, 
 walls, flooring, all are of it. There is 
 neither door nor window facing the road, 
 so I don't know how they are put in, but 
 I can imagine how that hovel must creak 
 in a high wind. What mysterious law 
 of gravitation keeps it down to the ground 
 I have failed to discover, nor do I know 
 how the walls are supported even in their 
 leaning position. Well, I saw the owner 
 of this cot, a Dutchman, buying furni- 
 ture, and he was very near purchasing 
 the piano under the impression it was a 
 folding-up bedstead. I have always taken 
 such an interest in the zinc dwelling that 
 it was with difficulty I could refrain from 
 giving my opinion about its furniture. 
 
 But the sun is getting high, and it is 
 ten o'clock and past quite time for all 
 housewives to be at home and the men 
 at their business ; so the clearance sale 
 ends like a transformation-scene. Kafirs 
 hoist ponderous burdens on their heads 
 and walk off unconcernedly with them, 
 and the odds and ends of what were 
 once household goods disappear round 
 the corner. My early rising makes me 
 feel as dissipated as one does after going 
 to a wedding, and I can't help a reluctance 
 
 to go back to the daily routine of G 's 
 
 lessons and baby's pinafores, it seems so 
 delightful to idle about in the sunshine in 
 spite of the dust. What is there to do or 
 to see ? What excuse can any one find 
 at a moment's notice to prevent my going 
 home just yet ? It is an anxious thought, 
 for there is nothing to do, and nothing to 
 see beyond wagons and oxen, in the length 
 and breadth of Maritzburg.. Some one 
 fortunately recollects the mill there is 
 only one in the whole place and avers 
 that wool-scouring is going on there at 
 the present time. At all events, it is a 
 charming drive, and in five minutes we 
 are trotting along, raising a fine cloud of 
 dust on the road which leads to the park. 
 When the river-side has been reached 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 Ill 
 
 poor, shrunken Umsindusi ! it is a mere 
 rivulet now, and thoroughly shrunken 
 and depressed we turn off and follow 
 the windings of the banks for a few hun- 
 dred yards till we come to where the mill- 
 wheel catches and makes use of a tiny 
 streamlet just as it is entering the river. 
 It is a very picturesque spot, although the 
 immediate country around is flat and un- 
 interesting ; but there is such a profusion 
 of willow trees, such beautiful tufts of 
 tall willow-ferns, such clumps of grasses, 
 that the old brick buildings are hidden 
 and shaded by all manner of waving 
 branches. Then in front is the inevit- 
 able wagon, the long, straggling span of 
 meagre oxen with their tiny black fore- 
 looper and attendant Kafirs. This is in- 
 deed beginning at the end of the story, 
 for into the wagon big neat bales all 
 ready for shipment bales which have 
 been "dumped" and branded are be- 
 ing lowered by a crane out of a large 
 upper story. Very different do these 
 bales look as they now depart from those 
 in which the wool arrives. With the 
 characteristic untidiness and makeshift 
 fashion of the whole country, the wool 
 is loosely and carelessly stuffed into in- 
 ferior bales, which become ragged and 
 filthy by the time they reach this, and 
 are a discredit to the place as they pass 
 along the streets. That is the state in 
 which it is brought here and delivered 
 over to the care of the wool - scourers. 
 The first step is to sort it all, sift the 
 coarsest dirt out of it, and then away it 
 goes, first into a bath of soda and water, 
 and afterward into many succeeding 
 tubs of cooler water, until at last it 
 emerges, dripping indeed, but cleansed 
 from burrs and seeds, and white as the 
 driven snow, to be next laid out on a 
 terrace sheltered from dust and wind 
 and dried rapidly under the burning 
 South African sun. Then there is the 
 steam -press, which squeezes it tightly 
 into these neat, trim bales, and a hy- 
 draulic machine which gives it that one 
 turn more of the screw which is sup- 
 posed to constitute the difference be- 
 tween neuralgia and gout, but which here 
 marks the difference between " dumped " 
 and " undumped " bales. The iron bands 
 
 are riveted with a resounding clang or 
 two, the letters are rapidly brushed in 
 over their iron plate, and the bale is 
 pronounced finished. A very creditable 
 piece of work it is, too neat and tidy out- 
 side and fair and honest inside. I heard 
 none of the usual excuses for dirt and 
 untidiness no "Oh, one cannot get the 
 Kafirs to do anything." There was a 
 sufficiency of Kafirs at work under the 
 eyes of the masters, but there was no 
 ill-temper or rough language. All was 
 methodical and business-like, every de- 
 tail seen to and carried thoroughly out 
 from first to last, and the result some- 
 thing to be proud of. The machinery 
 combed and raked and dipped with mo- 
 notonous patience, and many an inge- 
 nious connecting-rod or band saved time 
 and labor. I declare it was the most en- 
 couraging and satisfactory thing I have 
 seen since I came, apart from the real 
 pleasure of looking at a bale of wool 
 turned out as it used to be from every 
 wool-shed in New Zealand, instead of 
 the untidy bundles one sees slowly trav- 
 eling down to Durham, not even well 
 packed in the wagons. Apart from this, 
 it is inspiriting to see the resources of 
 the place made the best of, and every- 
 thing kept up to the mark of a high 
 standard of excellence. There were no 
 incomplete or makeshift contrivances, 
 and the two bright, active young mas- 
 ters going about and seeing to every- 
 thing themselves, as colonists ought to 
 do, were each a contrast to the ordinary 
 loafing, pale-faced, unkempt overseer of 
 half a dozen creeping Kafirs that repre- 
 sent the labor-market here. 
 
 I feel, however, as if I were rather 
 "loafing" myself, and am certainly very 
 
 idle, for it is past midday before G 
 
 has half enough examined the establish- 
 ment and tumbled often enough in and 
 out of the wool- press ; so we leave the 
 cool shade of the willows and the mes- 
 meric throb of the mill-wheel, and drive 
 home through the dust once more to our 
 own little house on the hill. 
 
 Ever since I began this letter I have 
 been wanting to tell you of an absurd 
 visitor I had the other day, and my poor 
 little story has very nearly been crowded 
 
112 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 out by other things. A couple of morn- 
 ings ago I was very busy making a new 
 cotton skirt for "Malia" for I am her 
 sole dressmaker, and she keeps me at 
 work always, what with growing into a 
 stout grenadier of a girl, and what with 
 rending these skirts upon all occasions. 
 Well, I was getting over the seams at a 
 fine rate on the sewing-machine, which 
 I had moved out into the verandah for 
 light and warmth, when I became aware 
 of a shadow between me and the sun. 
 It was a very little shadow, and the sub- 
 stance of it was the tiniest old Dutchman 
 you ever saw in your life. I assure you 
 my first idea was that I must be looking 
 at a little goblin, he w-as so precisely like 
 the pictures one sees in the illustrations 
 of a fairy-tale. His long waistcoat of a 
 gay-flowered chintz, his odd, square-tail- 
 ed coat and square shoes, his wide, short 
 breeches and pointed hat were all in keep- 
 ing with the goblin theory. But his face ! 
 I was too startled to laugh, but it ought to 
 have been sketched on the spot. No ap- 
 ple ever was more rosy, no snake-skin 
 ever more wrinkled. Eyes, blue and 
 keen as steel, gleamed out at me from 
 beneath enormous shaggy brows, and 
 his nose and chin were precisely like 
 Punch's. I wonder what he thought of 
 me? My eyes were as round as mar- 
 bles, and I do believe my mouth was 
 wide open. He gave a sort of nod, and 
 in a strange dialect said something to 
 which I in my bewilderment answered 
 " Ja," being the one single word of Dutch 
 I know. This misleading reply encour- 
 aged my weird visitor to sit down on the 
 steps before me, to take off his hat, mop 
 his thin, long gray locks, and to launch 
 forth with much pantomime into a long 
 story of which I did not understand one 
 word, for the simple reason that it was 
 all literally in High Dutch. Here was a 
 pretty predicament ! alone with a gob- 
 lin to whom I had just told a flat false- 
 hood, for evidently his first inquiry, of 
 which I only caught the word "Hol- 
 lands," and which I imagined to refer 
 to gin, must have been a demand as to 
 whether I understood his language ! And 
 I had said "Ja!" It was dreadful. In 
 my dismay I remembered having heard 
 
 somebody say "Nic," and I even follow- 
 ed it up with a faltering " Stehts nic " ("I 
 don't understand"), which also came to 
 me in my extremity. This contradictory 
 answer puzzled my old gentleman, and 
 he looked at me frowningly ; but I had 
 always heard that courage is everything 
 with goblins, so I smiled and said in- 
 quiringly "Ja?" again. He shook his 
 head reprovingly, and then by the aid 
 of ticking off each word on his fingers, 
 and stopping at it until he thought I un- 
 derstood, he contrived, by means of Ger- 
 man and English and Kafir, only break- 
 ing out into Dutch at the very interesting 
 parts, to tell me that he was in search of 
 a little black ox. I must clearly under- 
 stand that it was " Schwartz," and also 
 that the "pfennigs" it had cost were 
 many. The ox seems to have been a 
 regular demon if his story was anything 
 like true. No rest had he had (here a 
 regular pantomime of going to sleep) ; 
 from over Berg had he come ; he had 
 bought this wayward beast from one 
 Herr Schmidt, an inkosi. A great deal 
 of shaking of the head here, which must 
 have meant that this Herr Inkosi had 
 cheated him. Yet I longed to ask how 
 one could get the better of a goblin. I 
 didn't know it was to be done. From 
 the moment the " klein schwartz " ox 
 changed masters my small friend's trou- 
 bles began. "Friin in de morgen " did 
 that ox get away every day : in vain was 
 it put in kraals at night, in vain did Ka- 
 firs search for it (great acting here of 
 following up a spoor) : it was over the 
 berg and far away. He was drie tags 
 mit nodings to eat av mealies. It was a 
 long story, but the refrain was always, 
 "Vere hat dat leetel ox, dat schwartzen 
 ox, got to ?" If I am to say the exact 
 truth, he once demanded, " Vere das 
 tcufels dat leetel ox hat be ?" but I look- 
 ed so shocked that he took off his steeple- 
 crowned hat deprecatingly. "Sprechen 
 Sie Kafir ?" I asked in despair, but it was 
 no better. His countenance brightened, 
 and he went through it all again in Ka- 
 fir, and the " inkomo" was quite as prom- 
 inent as the ox had been. Of course / 
 meant that he should speak to some of 
 my Kafirs about it if he knew their Ian- 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 guage. I believe we should have been 
 there to this day talking gibberish to each 
 
 other if little G had not appeared 
 
 suddenly round the corner and taken the 
 matter into his own hands. 
 
 "Why, what a queer old man that is, 
 mumsey ! Wherever did you find him, 
 and what does he want ?" G demand- 
 ed with true colonial brevity. 
 
 " I think he is looking for a little black 
 ox," I answered guardedly. 
 
 " Ja, wohl, dat is it ein leetel black 
 ox, my tear" (I trust he meant G ). 
 
 " Oh, all right !" G shouted, spring- 
 ing up. "Osa (come), old gentleman. 
 
 There's rather a jolly little black bullock 
 over there : I know, because I've been 
 with Jack there looking for a snake." 
 The goblin was on his feet in a mo- 
 ment, with every wrinkle on the alert. 
 14 Banks, my tear umfan : du air ein gut 
 leetel boy. Friih in de morgen ;" and 
 so on with the whole story over again to 
 
 G , who understood him much better 
 
 than I did, and gave me quite a minute 
 account of the "leetel black ox's " adven- 
 tures. The last thing G saw of it 
 
 it was taking a fence like a springbok, 
 with the goblin and three Kafirs in full 
 chase after it. 
 
 8 
 
IP.A.:R,T 
 
 MARITZBURG, August i, 1876. 
 
 THE brief winter season seems al- 
 ready ended and over, so far as 
 the crisp, bracing atmosphere is con- 
 cerned. For many days past it has been 
 not only very hot in the sun, but a light 
 hot air has brooded over everything. Not 
 strong enough to be called a hot wind, it 
 is yet like the quivering haze out of a 
 furnace-mouth. I pity the poor trees: it 
 is hard upon them. Not a drop of rain 
 has fallen for three months to refresh 
 their dried-up leaves and thirsting roots, 
 and now the sun beats down with a fiercer 
 fire than ever, and draws up the drop of 
 moisture which haply may linger low 
 down in the cool earth. Cool earth, did 
 I say ? I fear that is a figure of speech. 
 It almost burns one's feet through the 
 soles of thin boots, and each particle of 
 dust is like a tiny cinder. I think regret- 
 fully of the pleasant, sharp, frosty morn- 
 ings and evenings, even though the days 
 are lengthening, and one may now count 
 by weeks the time before the rain will 
 come, and fruits and vegetables, milk 
 and butter, be once more obtainable 
 with comparative ease. What I most 
 long for, however, is a good pelting 
 shower, a down- pour which will fill the 
 tanks and make water plentiful. I am 
 always rushing out in the sun to see that 
 the horses and the fowls and all the an- 
 imals have enough water to drink. In 
 spite of all my care, they all seem in a 
 chronic state of thirst, for the Kafirs are 
 too lazy and careless to think that it mat- 
 ters if tubs get empty or if a horse comes 
 home too late to be led down to the river 
 with the rest. The water that I drink 
 myself and I drink nothing else would 
 give a sanitary inspector a fit to look at, 
 even after it has passed through two fil- 
 ters. But it goes through many vicissi- 
 tudes before it reaches this comparative- 
 ly clean stage. It is brought from the 
 river (which is barely able to move slug- 
 gishly over its ironstone bed) through 
 114 
 
 clouds of dust. If the Kafir rests his 
 pails for a moment outside before pour- 
 ing their contents into the first large fil- 
 ter, the pony, who is always on the look- 
 out for a chance, plunges his muzzle in 
 among the green boughs with snorts of 
 satisfaction ; the pigeons fly in circles 
 round the man's head, trying to take ad- 
 vantage of the first favorable moment 
 for a bath ; and not only dogs, but even 
 cats, press up for a drop. This is be- 
 cause it is cool, and not so dusty as that 
 in pans outside. There is not a leaf any- 
 where yet large enough to give shade, 
 and the water outside soon becomes 
 loathsomely hot. Of course it is an ex- 
 ceptionally dry season. All the weather 
 and all the seasons I have ever met with 
 in the course of my life always have been 
 quite out of the ordinary routine. Doubt- 
 less, it is kindly meant on the part of the 
 inhabitants, and is probably intended as 
 a consolation to the new-comer. But I 
 am too well used to it to be comforted. 
 Even when one comes back to dear old 
 England after three or four years' ab- 
 sence, and arrives, say, early in May, 
 everybody professes to be amazed that 
 there should be a keen east wind blow- 
 ing, and apologizes for the black hard 
 buds on the lilac trees and the iron-bound 
 earth and sky by assurances that " There 
 have been such east winds this year!" 
 Just as if there are not "such " east winds 
 every year ! 
 
 After these last few amiable lines it 
 k will hardly surprise any one to hear that 
 this is the irritating hot wind which is 
 blowing so lightly. You must know we 
 have hot winds from nearly opposite 
 quarters. There is one from the north- 
 east, which comes down from Delagoa 
 Bay and all the fever -haunted region 
 thereabouts, which is more unhealthy 
 than this. That furnace-breath makes 
 you languid and depressed : exertion is 
 almost an impossibility, thought is an 
 effort. But this light air represents the 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 nealthy hot wind, a nice rasping zephyr 
 a wind which dries you up like a Nor- 
 mandy pippin, and puts you and keeps 
 you in the most peevish, discontented 
 frame of mind. It has swept over the 
 burning deserts of the interior, and comes 
 from the north-west, and I can only say 
 there is aggravation in every puff of it. 
 The only person toward whom I feel at 
 all kindly disposed when this wind is 
 blowing is Jim. Jim is a new Kafir-lad, 
 Tom's successor, for Tom's battles with 
 Charlie became rather too frequent to 
 be borne in a quiet household. Jim is 
 such a nice boy, and Jim's English is 
 delightful. He began by impressing 
 upon me through Maria that he had 
 " no Inglis," but added immediately, "Jim 
 no sheeky." Certainly he is not cheeky, 
 but, on the contrary, the sweetest - tem- 
 pered creature you could meet with any- 
 where. He must be about sixteen years 
 old, but he is over six feet high, and as 
 straight as a willow wand. To see Jim 
 stride along by the side of my little car- 
 riage is to be reminded of the illustra- 
 tions to the Seven -League -Boots story. 
 At first, Jim tried to coil and fold and 
 double his long legs into the small perch 
 at the back of the pony-carriage, but he 
 always tumbled out at a rut in the road, 
 and kept me in perpetual terror of his 
 snapping himself in two. Not that there 
 are many ruts now in my road, I would 
 have you know. It is all solid dust, about 
 three feet deep everywhere. A road- 
 party worked at it in their own peculiar 
 way for many weeks this fall, and the 
 old Dutch overseer used to assure me 
 with much pride every time I passed that 
 he "vas making my ladyships a boofler 
 road mit grabels." Of course it was the 
 queen's highway at which he and his 
 Kafirs dug, but it pleased him to regard 
 it as my private path, and this gave him 
 greater courage to throw out "schnapps " 
 as a suggestion worthy of my attention. 
 
 Will you believe me when I declare 
 that in spite of all these weary weeks of 
 drought, in spite of this intense blaze of 
 burning sunshine all through the thirsty 
 day, the long stretches of the blackened 
 country are showing tender green shoots 
 round the stumps of the old rank grass 
 
 burned away long ago ? It seems little 
 short of a miracle when one sees the 
 baked earth, hard as a granite cliff, dry 
 as a last year's bone, and through its 
 parched, pulverized surface little clumps 
 of trefoil are springing everywhere, and 
 young blades of grass. On the mulber- 
 ry trees, too, the buttons have burst into 
 tufts of dainty leaves, which assert them- 
 selves more and more every day, and 
 herald that wealth of freshest greenery 
 in which Natal was clad over hill and 
 dale when first I saw her last November. 
 Then I could not take in that the smiling 
 emerald downs which stretched around 
 me could ever be the arid desolate waste- 
 land they now appear; and now I can 
 scarcely summon up faith enough to be- 
 lieve in the miracle of the spring resur- 
 rection close at hand, of which these few 
 lonely leaves and blades are the sign and 
 token. 
 
 Yes, Jim's English is very droll all 
 the more so for his anxiety to practice 
 it, in spite of his protestations to the con- 
 trary. Jim is a great meteorologist, un- 
 like the majority of Kafirs, from whom 
 you can extract no opinion whatever. 
 They say the rain-doctor is the proper 
 person to determine whether it is going 
 to be fair or foul weather. I have ask- 
 ed Charlie whether it was going to rain 
 when the heavy clouds have been almost 
 over our heads, just to hear what he 
 would say; and Charlie has answered 
 with Turkish fatalism, "Oh, ma', I doan 
 know : if it like to rain, it will, but if it 
 don't, it won't." Now, Jim does proffer 
 an opinion, expressed by a good deal 
 of pantomime, and Jim is quite as often 
 right as most weather-prophets. Jim 
 studies the skies on account of getting 
 and keeping his wood -heap dry, and 
 prides himself on neat stacks of chop- 
 ped-up fuel. I gave Jim an orange the 
 other day, and he took it in the graceful 
 Kafir fashion with both hands, and burst 
 forth into all his English at once: "Oh, 
 danks, ma' : inkosa-casa vezy kind new 
 face, vezy. Jim no sheeky : oh yaas, 
 all lite !" His meaning can only dimly 
 be guessed at, especially about the new 
 face. I wish with all my heart I could 
 get a new face, for this one is much the 
 
n6 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 worse for the South African sun and my 
 inveterate habit of loitering about out of 
 doors whenever I can, and spending most 
 of my waking hours in the verandah. 
 
 AUGUST 4. 
 
 Since I last wrote there has not been 
 much loitering out of doors, nor has any 
 one who could possibly avoid doing so 
 even put his nose outside. The hot zephyr 
 I alluded to three days ago suddenly 
 changed to a furious hot gale, the worst 
 I have ever seen hotter than a New 
 Zealand nor'-wester, and as heavy as a 
 hurricane. The clouds of dust baffle 
 description. The direction, too, from 
 whence it came must also have changed, 
 for a sort of epidemic of low fever is 
 hanging about, and the influenza would 
 be ludicrous from the number of its vic- 
 tims if it were not so disagreeable and 
 so dangerous. All the washermen and 
 washerwomen in the whole place are ill, 
 the entire body of Kafir police is or, the 
 sick list, all one's servants are laid up 
 Charlie says pathetically, " Too moch 
 plenty cough inside, ma' " and every- 
 body looks wretched. The "inkos" 
 which one hears in passing are either 
 a hoarse growl or a wheezy whisper. 
 When you consider how absolutely dry 
 the atmosphere must be, it is difficult to 
 imagine how people catch such constant 
 and severe colds as they do here. I am 
 bound to say, however, that except with 
 this influenza a cold does not last so long 
 as it does in England, but I think you 
 catch cold oftener ; and the reason is not 
 far to seek. In these hot winds, or out 
 of the broiling midday sun, some visitor 
 rides up from town, and arrives here or 
 elsewhere very hot indeed. Then he 
 comes into a little drawing-room with its 
 thick stone walls and closed, darkened 
 windows, and exclaims, " How delight- 
 fully cool you are here !" but in five 
 minutes he is shivering; and the next 
 thing I hear is that he has cold or fever. 
 Yet what is one to do ? I have to keep 
 in-doors all day : I must have a cool 
 room to sit in ; and as long as one has 
 not been taking exercise out of doors, it 
 does no harm. 
 
 The gale of hot wind seemed to set 
 
 the whole place on fire. I should not 
 have thought a tussock had been left 
 anywhere, but every night lately has 
 been made bright as day by the glare 
 of blazing hillsides. Then I leave my 
 readers to imagine the state of a house 
 into which all these fine particles of soot 
 filter through ill-fitting doors and win- 
 dows, driven by a furious hurricane. The 
 
 other morning poor little G 's plate 
 
 of porridge set aside to cool in the din- 
 ing-room, with every door and window 
 closed, had a layer of black burnt grass 
 on the top in five minutes ; and the state 
 of the tablecloth, milk, etc. baffles de- 
 scription. Indeed, one's life is a life of 
 dusting and scrubbing and cleaning gen- 
 erally, if a house is to be kept even tol- 
 erably tidy in these parts. 
 
 I forget if I have ever told you of the 
 spiders here. They are another sorrow 
 to the careful housewife, spinning webs 
 in every corner, across doorways, filling 
 up spaces beneath tables, flinging their 
 aerial bridges from chair to chair all in 
 a single night and regarding glass and 
 china ornaments merely as a nucleus or 
 starting-point for a filmy labyrinth. 
 
 AUGUST 10. 
 
 Every now and then, when I give way 
 to temper and a hot wind combined, and 
 write crossly about the climate, my con- 
 science reproaches me severely with a 
 want of fairness when the weather 
 changes, as it generally does directly, 
 and we have some exquisite days and 
 nights. For instance, directly after I 
 last wrote our first spring showers fell 
 very coyly, it is true, and almost as if the 
 clouds had forgotten how to dissolve into 
 rain. Still, the very smell of the moist 
 earth was delicious, and ever since that 
 wet night the whole country has been 
 
 Growing glorious 
 Quietly, day by day ; 
 
 and except in the very last-burnt patches 
 a faint and hesitating tinge of palest 
 green is stealing over all the bleak hill- 
 sides. My poor bamboos are still mere 
 shriveled ghosts of the fair green plumes 
 which used to rustle and wave all through 
 the drenching summer weather, but ev- 
 erything else is pushing a leaf here and 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 a shoot there wherever it can, and, joy 
 of joys ! there has been no dust for a 
 day or two. All looks washed and re- 
 freshed : parched-up Nature accepts this 
 shower as the first installment of the del- 
 uge which is coming presently. In the 
 mean time, the air is delicious, and even 
 the poor influenza victims are creeping 
 about in the sunshine. The Kafirs have 
 suffered most, and it is really quite sad 
 to see how weak they are, and how 
 grateful for a little nourishing food, which 
 they absolutely require at present. 
 
 I took advantage of the first of these 
 new spring days, with their cool air, to 
 make a little expedition I have long had 
 on my mind. From my verandah I can 
 see on the opposite hills, at about my 
 own lofty elevation of fifty feet or so, the 
 white tents beyond the dark walls of Fort 
 Napier. Now, this little spot represents 
 the only shelter and safety in all the 
 country-side in case of a "difficulty" 
 with our swarming dusky neighbors. 
 Here and there in other townships there 
 are "laagers," or loopholed enclosures, 
 within which wagons can be dragged 
 and a stand made against a sudden Ka- 
 fir raid ; but here, at the seat of govern- 
 ment, there is a battalion of an English 
 regiment, a thousand strong, and a regu- 
 lar, orthodox fortified place, with some 
 heavy pieces of ordnance. But you 
 know of old how terribly candid I am, 
 so I must confess at once that it was not 
 with the smallest idea of ascertaining 
 for myself the military strength and ca- 
 pability of Fort Napier that I paid it a 
 visit that fine spring morning. No : my 
 object was of the purest domestic cha- 
 racter, and indeed was only to see with 
 my own eyes what these new Kafir huts 
 were like, with a view to borrowing the 
 idea for a spare room here. Could any- 
 thing be more peaceful than such a pro- 
 ject? I felt like the old wife in Jean 
 Ingelow's Brides of En derby as I drove 
 slowly up the steep hill, at the brow of 
 which I could already see the pacing 
 sentries and the grim cannon-mouth 
 
 And why should this thing be? 
 What danger lowers by land or sea? 
 
 I might have answered as she did, 
 
 For storms be none, and pyrates flee ; 
 
 for, although there are skirmishes be- 
 yond our borders, we ourselves, thank 
 God ! dwell in peace and safety within 
 them. Nothing could be more pictu- 
 resque than the gleaming white points 
 now standing sharply out in snowy van- 
 dykes against a cobalt sky, or else toned 
 harmoniously down against a soft gray 
 cloud ; now glistening on a background 
 of green hillside, or nestling dimly in a 
 dusty hollow. There is only barrack- 
 room for half the regiment, and the oth- 
 er half, under canvas, takes a good many 
 tents and covers a good deal of ground. 
 Although the soldiers have got through 
 the winter very well, it would not be 
 prudent to trust them to the shelter of a 
 tent during the coming summer months 
 of alternate flood and sunshine. So Ka- 
 firs have been busy building nearly a 
 hundred of their huts on an improved 
 plan all this dry weather, and these lit- 
 tle dwellings are now just ready for their 
 complement of five men apiece. They 
 are a great step in advance of the orig- 
 inal Kafir hut, and it was for this reason 
 I came to see them, lured also by hearing 
 that they only cost four pounds apiece. 
 We are so terribly cramped for room 
 here, I have only ventured on one tiny 
 addition a dressing-room about as big 
 as the cabin of a ship, which cost nearly 
 eighty pounds to build of stone like the 
 rest of the house. So I have had it on 
 my mind for some time that it would be 
 a very fine thing to build one of these 
 glorified Kafir huts close to the house 
 for a spare room. The real Kafir hut is 
 exactly like a beehive, without door or 
 window, and only a small hole to creep 
 in and out at. These new military huts 
 have circular walls, five feet high and 
 about a dozen feet in diameter, made of 
 closely-woven wattles, and covered with- 
 in and without with clay. I stood watch- 
 ing the Kafirs working at one for some 
 time. It certainly looked a rude and 
 simple process. Some four or five stal- 
 wart Kafirs were squatting on the ground 
 hard by, "snuffing" and conversing with 
 much gesticulation and merriment. They 
 were the off-gang, I imagine. Three or 
 four more were tranquilly and in a lei- 
 surely fashion trampling the wet clay 
 
n8 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 and daubing it on with their hands in- 
 side and out. They had not the ghost 
 of a tool of any sort, and yet the result 
 was wonderfully good. I wondered why 
 finely-chopped grass was not mixed with 
 the clay, as I have seen the New Zealand 
 shepherds do in preparing the " cob " for 
 their mud walls ; but I was told that the 
 Kafir would greatly object to anything 
 so uncomfortable for his bare legs and 
 feet. Of course, the shepherd works up 
 the ugly muss with a spade, whilst here 
 these men slowly trample it to the right 
 consistency. The plastering is really a 
 triumph of (literally) handiwork, though 
 the process is exasperatingly slow. At 
 first the mud comes out all over thumb- 
 marks, and dries so, but in a day or two 
 buckets of water are dashed over it, so 
 as to remoisten it, and then it is once 
 more patiently smoothed all over with 
 the palm of the hand until an absolute- 
 ly smooth surface is obtained, as flat and 
 flawless as though the best of trowels had 
 been used. A neatly -fitting door and 
 window have meantime been made in 
 the regimental workshop, and hung in 
 the spaces left for them in the wattled 
 walls. More wattles, closely woven to- 
 gether, are put on in the shape of a very 
 irregular dome, and this is thatched near- 
 ly a foot deep with long rank grass tied 
 securely down by endless ropes of finely- 
 plaited grass. The result is a spacious, 
 cool, and most comfortable circular room, 
 and those which are finished and fitted up 
 with shelves and camp furniture look as 
 nice as possible. A little tuft of straw at 
 the apex of each dome is at once a light- 
 ning-conductor and a finish to the quaint 
 little building. The plastered walls of 
 some huts are whitewashed, but the most 
 popular idea seems to be to tar them 
 and make them still more weather-proof. 
 A crooked stick or two, being merely the 
 rough branch of a tree, stands in the 
 centre and acts as a musket-rack and 
 tent-pole to the little dwelling. The Ka- 
 firs get only one pound ten shillings for 
 each hut, and the wooden fittings are 
 calculated to cost about two pounds ten 
 shillings more ; but I hear that they 
 grumble a good deal on account of 
 the distance from which they have to 
 
 bring the grass, all in the neighborhood 
 having been burnt. They also regard it 
 as women's work, for all the kraals are 
 built by women. 
 
 On the whole, I am more than ever 
 taken with the idea of a Kafir spare room, 
 and quite hope to carry it out some day, 
 the huts look so cool and healthy and 
 clean. The thatch and mud walls will 
 keep off the sun in the hot weather be- 
 fore us ; and as all the huts stand on a 
 gentle slope, there is no fear of their be- 
 ing damp. It is wonderful how well the 
 soldiers have managed hitherto under 
 canvas, and how healthy they have been ; 
 but I can quite understand that it is not 
 well to presume upon such good luck 
 during another wet season. As we were 
 up in camp, we looked at all the sol- 
 diers' arrangements the canteen, where 
 mustard and pickles seemed to be the 
 most popular articles of food ; the school- 
 house, a wee brick building, in which 
 both the children and the recruits have 
 to learn, and which is also used as a 
 chapel on Sunday. Everything was the 
 pink of neatness and cleanliness, as is 
 always the case where soldiers or sailors 
 live, and I was much struck by the ab- 
 solute silence and repose of so small an 
 enclosure with a thousand men inside it. 
 I wondered whether a thousand women 
 could have kept so quiet ? Of course I 
 peeped into the kitchen, and instantly 
 coveted the beautiful brick oven out of 
 which sundry smoking platters were be- 
 ing drawn. But curry and rice was the 
 chief dish in the bill of fare for that day, 
 and I can only say the smell was excel- 
 lent and exceedingly appetizing. The 
 view all round, too, was charming. Just 
 at our feet lay the hollow where the men's 
 gardens are. Such potatoes and pump- 
 kins ! such cabbages and onions ! The 
 men delight in cultivating the willing soil 
 in which all vegetables grow so luxuri- 
 antly and easily ; and it is so managed 
 that it shall be a profit as well as a plea- 
 sure to them. In many ways this en- 
 couragement of a taste for gardening is 
 good: there is the first consideration of 
 the advantage to themselves, and it is 
 indirectly a boon to us, for if a thousand 
 men were added to the consumers of the 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 119 
 
 few potatoes and vegetables which daily 
 find their way into the Maritzburg mar- 
 ket, I know not what would become of 
 us. Our last stroll was to the brow 
 of another down close by, also crowned 
 with white tents. Beneath it lay the mil- 
 itary graveyard, and I have seldom seen 
 anything more poetic and touching than 
 the effect of this lovely garden for so it 
 looked, a spot of purest green, tenderly 
 cared for amid the bare winter coloring 
 of all the country-side. The hills folded 
 it softly, as if it were a precious place, 
 the sun lay brightly on it, and the quiet 
 sleeping -ground was made orderly and 
 tranquil by many a sheltering tree and 
 blooming shrub. I promised myself tc 
 come in summer and look down on it 
 again when all the wealth of roses and 
 geraniums are out, and when these brown 
 hillsides are green and glorious with their 
 tropic pasture. 
 
 You will think I have indeed taken a 
 sudden mania for soldiers and camps 
 when I tell you that a very few days 
 after my visit to Fort Napier I joyfully 
 accepted the offer of a friend to take 
 me to see the annual joint encampment 
 of the Natal Carbineers and D'Urban 
 Mounted Rifles out on Botha's Flat, rath- 
 er more than halfway between this and 
 D'Urban. Not only was I delighted at 
 the chance of seeing that lovely bit of 
 country more at my leisure than dash- 
 ing through it in the post-cart, but I have 
 always so much admired the pluck and 
 spirit of this handful of volunteers, who 
 keep up the discipline and prestige of 
 their little corps in the teeth of all sorts 
 of difficulties and discouragements, that 
 I was glad to avail myself of the oppor- 
 tunity of paying them a visit when they 
 were out in camp. For many years past 
 these smart light -horse have struggled 
 on in spite of obstacles to attending drill, 
 want of money, lack of public attention 
 and interest, and a thousand other lets 
 and hinderances. Living as we do in 
 such a chronically precarious position 
 a position in which five minutes' official 
 ill-temper or ever so trifling an injudicious 
 action might set the whole Kafir popula- 
 tion in a blaze of discontent, and even 
 revolt too much importance cannot, in 
 
 my poor judgment, be attached to the 
 volunteer movement; and it seems to 
 me worthy in the highest degree of every 
 encouragement and token of appreciation 
 which it is in our power to give. Of ei- 
 ther pence or praise these Natal mounted 
 volunteers (for they would be very little 
 use on foot over such an extent of rail- 
 way-less country) have hitherto had a 
 very small share, and yet I found the 
 pretty little camp as full of military en- 
 thusiasm, as orderly, as severely simple 
 in its internal economy, as though the 
 eyes of all Europe were upon it. Each 
 man there in sacrificing a week of his 
 time was giving up a good deal more 
 than most volunteers give up, and it 
 would make too long a story if I were to 
 enter into particulars of the actual pecu- 
 niary loss which in this country attends 
 the lawyer leaving his office, the clerk 
 his desk, the merchant his counting- 
 house, and each providing himself with 
 horses, etc. to come out here twice a 
 year and drill pretty nearly from morn- 
 ing till night. The real difficulty, I fancy, 
 lies in subordinates being able to obtain 
 leave. Every sugar-estate, every office, 
 every warehouse, has so few white men 
 employed in it, exists in such a chronic 
 state of short-handedness, that it is the 
 greatest inconvenience to the masters to 
 let their clerks go out. Both corps are 
 therefore stronger on paper than in the 
 field, but from no lack of willingness to 
 serve on the part of the volunteers them- 
 selves. 
 
 I don't want to be spiteful or invidious, 
 but I have seen volunteer camps nearer 
 the heart of civilization, where there were 
 flower-gardens round the tents and love- 
 ly "fixings" inside, portable couches 
 and chairs, albums, and clocks, besides 
 a French cook and iced champagne 
 flowing like a river. Dismiss from your 
 mind all ideas of that sort if you come 
 with me next year to Botha's Flat. I 
 can promise you scrupulous and exquis- 
 ite neatness and cleanliness, but in every 
 other respect you might as well be in a 
 real camp on active service. Even the 
 Kafir servants are left behind, the men 
 some of them very fine gentlemen in- 
 deed cleaning their own horses and ac- 
 
I2O 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 coutrements, pitching their own tents, 
 cooking their own food, and in fact act- 
 ing precisely as though they had really 
 taken the field in an enemy's country. 
 The actual drill, therefore though more 
 than half the hours of daylight are spent 
 in the saddle under the instruction of 
 one of the most enthusiastic and compe- 
 tent drill-instructors you could find any- 
 where is by no means all that is prac- 
 ticed in these brief, hardly-won camp- 
 days. The men learn to rely solely on 
 their own resources. Their commissariat 
 is arranged by themselves, one single 
 small wagon to each corps conveying 
 tents, forage, stores, firewood all that 
 is needed for man and horse for ten 
 days or so. They have no "base of 
 operations " nothing and nobody to 
 depend upon but themselves. It is 
 literally a " flying camp," and all the 
 more interesting for being so evident- 
 ly what we shall most need in case of 
 any native difficulty. I don't suppose 
 they ever dream of visitors, for in this 
 languid land few people would journey 
 thirty miles to look at anything, espe- 
 cially in a hot wind. Nor am I sure the 
 volunteers want visitors. It is real, earn- 
 est, practical hard work with them, done 
 with their utmost diligence, and without 
 expecting the smallest reward, even in 
 fair words. It strikes me as very re- 
 markable and characteristic of the lack 
 of general interest in public subjects 
 how little one hears of the very men on 
 whom we may at any moment be only 
 too glad to rely. However, I never can 
 attempt to fathom causes : rather let me 
 describe effects for you as best I may. 
 
 And a very pretty effect the camp has 
 as we dash round the shoulder of a 
 steep hill with the brake hard down, the 
 leaders plunging wildly along with slack 
 traces, and a general appearance of an 
 impending upset over everything. It 
 has been a lovely drive, though rather 
 hot, but the roads are ever so much 
 better than they were in the summer, 
 and I have never seen the country look- 
 ing more beautiful, as it seems to grow 
 greener with every mile out of Maritz- 
 burg. When the hills open out sudden- 
 ly and show th y^it fertile cleft of un- 
 
 dulating downs, green ravines with trick- 
 ling silver threads down them, and pur- 
 ple mountains in the distance stretching 
 away to the coast, which is known as the 
 Inanda Location, one feels as if one were 
 looking at the Happy Valley. 
 
 O mortal man, who livest here by toil, 
 Do not complain of this, thy hard estate, 
 
 for neither the imaginary kingdom of 
 Amhara nor any other kingdom in all 
 the fair earth can show a more poetical 
 or suggestive glimpse of scenic beauty. 
 Yet when a few miles more of rushing 
 and galloping through the soft air brings 
 us to the top of the pass of the Inchanga, 
 I make up my mind that that is the 
 most beautiful stretch of country my eyes 
 have ever beheld. It is too grand to de- 
 scribe, too complete to break up into 
 fragments by words. Far down among 
 the sylvan slopes of the park-like fore- 
 ground the Umgeni winds, with the sun- 
 shine glinting here and there on its wa- 
 ters : beyond are bold, level mountains 
 with rich deep indigo shadows and lofty 
 crests cut off straight against the dappled 
 sky, according to the South African for- 
 mation. But we soon climb the lofty 
 saddle, and put the brake hard down 
 again for the worst descent on the road. 
 If good driving and skill and care can 
 save us, we need not be nervous, for we 
 have all these ; but the state of the har- 
 ness fills me with apprehension, and it is 
 little short of a miracle why it does not 
 all give way at once and tumble off the 
 horses' backs. Luckily, there is very lit- 
 tle of it to begin with, and the original 
 leather is largely supplemented by reins 
 or strips of dried bullock hide, so we hold 
 together until the vehicle draws up at 
 the door of a neat little wayside inn, 
 where we get out and begin at once to 
 rub our elbows tenderly, for they are 
 all black and blue. There is the camp, 
 however, on yonder green down, and 
 here are two of the officers from it wait- 
 ing for us, and wanting to know all about 
 hours and plans and so forth. A little 
 rest and luncheon are first on the pro- 
 gramme, and a good deal of soap and 
 water also for us travelers, and then, the 
 afternoon being still young, we mount 
 our horses and canter up the rising ground 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 121 
 
 to where the flagstaff stands. The men 
 are just falling in for their third and last 
 drill, which will last till sundown, so 
 there is time to go round the pretty little 
 spot and admire the precision and neat- 
 ness, the serviceable, business-like air, of 
 everything. There is the path the sen- 
 tries tread, already worn perfectly bare, 
 but straight as though it had been ruled : 
 yonder is the bit of sod-fencing thrown 
 up as a shelter to the kettles and frying- 
 pans. The kitchen range consists of 
 half a dozen forked sticks to leeward of 
 this rude shelter, and each troop con- 
 tributes a volunteer cook and commis- 
 sariat officer. The picket-ropes for the 
 horses run down the centre of the little 
 camp, and we must look at the neat pile 
 of blankets and nose-bags marked with 
 separate initials. The officers' tents are 
 at one end, and the guard tents at the 
 other, and those for the privates, holding 
 five men each, are between. It is all as 
 sweet and clean and neat as possible, 
 and one can easily understand what is 
 stated almost as a joke that the first 
 night in camp no one could sleep for his 
 own and his neighbor's cough, and now 
 there is not such a sound to be heard. 
 
 We are coming back into camp pres- 
 ently, for I am invited to dine at the of- 
 ficers' mess to-night, so we must make 
 the most of the daylight. It is a gray 
 evening, and the hot wind has died 
 away, allowing the freshness from the 
 hills to steal down to this green spur, 
 which is yet high enough to be out of 
 the cold mists of the valley. The drill 
 is not very amusing for a lady this after- 
 noon, because it is real hard work pa- 
 tiently doing the same thing over and 
 over again until each little point is per- 
 fect until the horses are steady and 
 the men move with the ease and precis- 
 ion of a machine. But it is just because 
 there is little else to distract one's atten- 
 tion that I can notice what fine stalwart 
 young fellows they all are, and how thor- 
 oughly in earnest. Their uniforms and 
 accoutrements are simple, but natty, and 
 clean as a new pin, the horses especially 
 being ever so much better groomed and 
 turned out by their masters' hands than 
 if each had been saddled by his usual 
 
 Kafir groom. So, after a short while of 
 watching the little squadron patiently 
 wheel and trot and advance by those 
 mysterious "fours," manoeuvre across a 
 swamp, charge down a hill, skirmish up 
 that burnt slope over there, and so forth, 
 we leave them hard at work, and canter 
 over some ridges to see what lies be- 
 yond. But there is nothing much to re- 
 ward us, and the only effect of our long 
 evening ride is to make us all raven- 
 ously hungry and anxious for six o'clock 
 and dinner. Long before that hour the 
 dusk has crept down, and by the time 
 we have returned, and I have exchanged 
 my riding-habit for a splendid dinner- 
 costume of ticking, it is cold enough and 
 dark enough to make us glad of all the 
 extra wraps we can find, and of the light 
 and shelter of the snug little tent. Here, 
 again, it is real camp fare. I am given 
 the great luxury of the encampment to 
 sit upon a delicious karosse, or rug of 
 dressed goat skins. It is snowy white, 
 and soft and flexible as a glove on the 
 wrong side, and on the right it is cover- 
 ed with long, wavy cream-colored hair 
 with black patches at each corner. The 
 ground is strewn with grass, dry and 
 sweet as hay, and carriage candles are 
 tied by wire to a cross stick fastened on 
 a tent-pole : the tablecloth is a piece of 
 canvas, the dishes are billies, but the 
 food is excellent, and, above all, we have 
 tea as the sole beverage for everybody. 
 We are all provided with the best of 
 sauces, and I assure you we very soon 
 find ourselves at our dessert of oranges 
 in a basket-lid. Never have any of us 
 enjoyed a meal more, and certainly ev- 
 erybody except myself has earned it. 
 Then there is a little tinkling and tun- 
 ing up outside, and the band turns out 
 to play to us. By this time the wind has 
 got up again from another point, and is 
 so bitterly bleak and cold that the mu- 
 sicians cannot possibly stand still, but 
 have to keep marching round and round 
 the little tent, playing away lustily and 
 singing with a good courage. Every now 
 and then a stumble over a tent-peg jerks 
 out a laugh instead of a note, but still 
 there is plenty of "go " and verve in the 
 music, and half the camp turns out to 
 
122 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA 
 
 join in the chorus of "Sherman's March 
 through Georgia." We all declare loud- 
 ly that we are going to carry "the flag 
 that makes us free " through all sorts of 
 places, especially from "Atlanta to the 
 sea," and I am quite sure that Sherman's 
 own " dashing Yankee boys" could not 
 possibly have made more noise them- 
 selves. This is followed by the softest 
 and sweetest of sentimental songs, given 
 in a beautiful falsetto which would be a 
 treasure to a chorister; but it is really too 
 cold for sentiment, so we have one more 
 song, and then the band sings "Auld 
 Lang Syne " with great spirit, and as the 
 wind is now rising to a hurricane, the mu- 
 sical performances are wound up some- 
 what hurriedly by " God Save the Queen !" 
 For this the whole camp turns out of 
 their own accord. The cooks leave their 
 fires, the fatigue-party their scrubbing 
 and the lazy ones their pipes. Under 
 the clear starlight, with the Southern 
 Cross sloping up from the edge of yon- 
 der dusky hill, with the keen wind sweep- 
 ing round the camp of this little handful 
 of Englishmen in a strange and distant 
 country, the words of the most beautiful 
 tune in the world come ringing as though 
 straight from each man's heart. Of course 
 we all come out of our tent to stand bare- 
 headed too, and I assure you it is a very 
 impressive and beautiful moment. One 
 feels as one stands here amid the flower 
 of the young colonists, each man hold- 
 ing his cap aloft in his strong right hand, 
 each man putting all the fervor and pas- 
 sion of his loyal love and reverence for 
 his queen into every tone of his voice, 
 that it is well worth coming down for this 
 one moment atone. It is very delight- 
 ful to see the English people, whether 
 in uniis or tens of thousands, greet their 
 sovereign face to face, but there is some- 
 thing even more heart-stirring, more in- 
 expressibly pathetic, in such outbursts as 
 this, evoked by none of the glamour and 
 glitter of a royal pageant, but called into 
 being merely by a name, a tune, a sen- 
 timent. I often think if I were a queen 
 I should be more really gratified and 
 touched by the ardent and loyal love of 
 such handfuls of my subjects in out-of- 
 the-way corners of my empire, where the 
 
 sentiment has nothing from outside to fan 
 it, than with the acclamations of a shout- 
 ing multitude as my splendor is passing 
 them by. At all events, / have never 
 seen soldiers or sailors, regulars or vol- 
 unteers, more enthusiastic over our own 
 anthem. It is followed by cheer upon 
 cheer, blessing upon blessing on the be- 
 loved and royal name, until everybody 
 is perfectly hoarse from shouting in such 
 a high wind, and we all retreat into the 
 tiny tents for a cup of coffee and what 
 do you think ? Stories. I am worse than 
 any child in my love of stories, and we 
 have one or two really good raconteurs 
 in the little knot of hosts. 
 
 Of course one of the first inquiries I 
 make is whether any snakes have been 
 found in the tents, and I hear, much to 
 my disappointment because the bare 
 fact will not at all lend itself to a story 
 
 for G when I get home that only 
 
 one little one had crept beneath a folded 
 great-coat (which is the camp pillow, it 
 seems), and been found in the morning 
 curled up, torpidly dozing in the woolen 
 
 warmth. No, it is not a story G 
 
 will ever care about, for the poor little 
 snake had not even been killed : it was 
 too small and too insignificant, they say, 
 and it merely got kicked out of its com- 
 fortable bed. To console me for this 
 bald and incomplete adventure, I am 
 told some more snake-stories, which, at 
 all events, ought to have been true, so 
 good are they. Here are two for you, 
 one of which especially delights me. 
 
 Hard by this very camp a keen sports- 
 man was lately pursuing a buck. He 
 had no dogs except a pet Skye terrier to 
 help him in the chase nothing but his 
 rifle and a trusty Kafir. Yet the hard- 
 pressed buck had to dash into a small, 
 solitary patch of thorny scrub for shelter 
 and a moment's rest. In an instant the 
 hunter was off his pony, and had sent 
 the Kafir into the bush to drive out the 
 buck, that he might have a shot at it the 
 moment it emerged from the cover. In- 
 stead of the expected buck, however I 
 must tell you the story never states what 
 became of him came loud cries in Ka- 
 fir from the scrub of, "Oh, my mother! 
 oh, my friends and relations ! I die ! I 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 123 
 
 die !" The master, much astonished, 
 peeped as well as he could into the little 
 patch of tangled briers and bushes, and 
 there he saw his crouching Kafir stoop- 
 ing, motionless, beneath a low branch 
 round which was coiled a large and ven- 
 omous snake. The creature had struck 
 at the man's head as he crept beneath, 
 and its forked tongue had got firmly im- 
 bedded in the Kafir's woolly pate. The 
 wretched beater dared not stir an inch : 
 he dared not even put up his hands 
 to free himself; but there he remained 
 motionless and despairing, uttering these 
 loud shrieks. His master bade him stay 
 perfectly still, and taking close aim at 
 the snake's body, fired and blew it in 
 two. He then with a dexterous jerk dis- 
 entangled the barbed tongue, and flung 
 the quivering head and neck outside the 
 bushes. Here comes the only marvelous 
 part of the story. "How did he know it 
 was a poisonous snake?" I ask. "Oh, 
 well : the little dog ran up to play with 
 the head, and the snake or rather the 
 half snake struck out at it and bit it in 
 the paw, and it died in ten minutes." 
 
 But the following is my favorite Mun- 
 chausen : There was once a certain val- 
 iant man of many adventures whose Ka- 
 fir title was "the prince of fibs," and he 
 used to relate the following experience : 
 One day so long ago that breech-loading 
 guns were unknown, and the process of 
 reloading was a five-minute affair he 
 came upon a large and deadly snake 
 making as fast as it could for its hole 
 hard by. Of course, such a thing as 
 escape could not be permitted, and as 
 there was no other weapon at hand, the 
 huntsman determined to shoot the huge 
 reptile. But first the gun must be load- 
 ed, and whilst this was being done, 
 lo ! the snake's head had already dis- 
 appeared in the hole : in another instant 
 the whole body would have followed. A 
 sudden grasp at the tail, a rapid, bold 
 jerk, flung the creature a yard or two off. 
 Did it attempt to show fight ? Oh no : 
 it glided swiftly as ever toward the same 
 shelter from which it had been so rudely 
 plucked. The ramrod was rapidly plied, 
 the charge driven home, but there was 
 yet the percussion-cap to be adjusted. 
 
 Once more the tail was grasped, the 
 snake pulled out and flung still farther 
 away. Again did the wily creature ap- 
 proach the hole. In another instant the 
 cap would be on and the gun cocked, 
 but everything depended on that instant. 
 The sportsman kept his eye fixed on his 
 artful foe even whilst his fingers deft- 
 ly found and fixed the percussion-cap. 
 What, then, was his horror and dismay 
 to find that he had, for once, met his 
 match, and that the snake, recognizing 
 the desperate nature of the position, and 
 keeping a wary eye on the hunter's move- 
 ments, instead of going into his hole for 
 the third time in the usual method, had 
 turned round and was backing in tail 
 first! Is it not delightful? 
 
 As soon as we had finished laughing 
 at this and similar stories it was high 
 time to break up the little party, although 
 it was only about the hour at which one 
 sits down to dinner in London. Still, 
 there were early parades and drills and 
 Goodness knows what, and I was very 
 tired and sleepy with my jolting jour- 
 ney and afternoon on horseback. So we 
 all went the "grand rounds," lantern in 
 hand, and with a deep feeling of admi- 
 ration and pity for the poor sentries pa- 
 cing up and down on the bleak hillside, 
 walked down to the little inn, where a 
 tiny room, exactly like a wooden box, 
 had been secured for me, the rest of 
 the party climbing heroically up the 
 hill again to sleep on the ground with 
 their saddles for a pillow. This was 
 playing at soldiers with a vengeance, 
 was it not? However, they all looked 
 as smart and well as possible next morn- 
 ing, when they came to fetch me up to 
 breakfast in the camp. Then more drill 
 very pretty this time a sham attack 
 and defence, and then another delight- 
 ful long ride over a different range of 
 hills. It was a perfect morning for ex- 
 ploring, gray and cool and cloudy 
 so different from the hot wind and 
 scorching sun of yesterday. We could 
 not go fast, not only from the steep 
 up-and-down hill, but from the way 
 the ground was turned up by the ant- 
 bears. Every few yards was a deep 
 burrow, often only a few hours' old ; and 
 
124 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA 
 
 unless you had seen it with your own eyes 
 I can never make you believe or under- 
 stand the extraordinarily vivid color of 
 this newly - turned earth. During yes- 
 terday's journey I had noticed that the 
 only wild-flower yet out was a curious 
 iily growing on a fat bulb more than 
 half out of the ground, and sometimes 
 of a deep-orange or of a brilliant-scarlet 
 color. With the recollection of these 
 blossoms fresh in my mind, I noticed a 
 patch of bright scarlet on the face of 
 an opposite down, and thought it must, 
 of course, be made by lilies. As I was 
 very anxious to get some bulbs for my 
 garden, I proposed that we should ride 
 across the ravine and dig some up. "We 
 can come if you like," said the kindest 
 and pleasantest of guides, "but I assure 
 you it is only a freshly - dug ant-bear's 
 hole." Never did I find belief so dif- 
 ficult, and, like all incredulous people, 
 I was on the point of backing up my 
 hasty opinion by half a dozen pairs of 
 gloves when the same friendly guide 
 laughingly pointed to a hole close by, 
 bidding me look well at it before risking 
 my gloves. There was nothing more to 
 be said. The freshly scratch ed-out earth 
 was exactly like vermilion, moist and 
 brilliant in color "a ferruginous soil," 
 some learned person said ; but, however 
 that may be, I had never before seen 
 earth of such a bright color, for it was 
 quite different from the red-clay soil one 
 has seen here and in other places. 
 
 The line of country we followed that 
 morning was extraordinarily pretty and 
 characteristic. The distant purple hills 
 rolled down to the gently -undulating 
 ground over which we rode. Here and 
 there would that it had been oftener ! 
 a pretty homestead with its sheltering 
 trees and surrounding patches of pale- 
 green forage clung to the steep hillside 
 before us. Then, as we rode on, one 
 of the ravines fell away at our feet to a 
 deep gully, through which ran a stream- 
 
 let among clustering scrub and bushes. 
 In one spot the naked rock stood out 
 straight and bare and bold for fifty yards 
 or so, as though it were the walls of a 
 citadel, with a wealth of creeping green- 
 ery at its foot, and over its face a tiny 
 waterfall, racing from the hill behind, 
 leapt down to join the brook in the gul- 
 ly. We saw plenty of game, too part- 
 ridges, buck, two varieties of the bald- 
 headed ibis, secretary-birds, and, most 
 esteemed of all, a couple of paauw (I 
 wonder how it is spelt?), a fine kind of 
 bustard, which is quite as good eating as 
 a turkey, but daily becoming more and 
 more scarce. There were lots of plover, 
 too, busy among the feathery ashes on 
 the newly-burned ground, and smaller 
 birds chirruped sweetly every now and 
 then. It was all exceedingly delightful, 
 and I enjoyed it all the more for the 
 absence of the blazing sunshine, which, 
 however it may light up and glorify the 
 landscape, beats too fiercely on one's 
 head to be pleasant. If only we women 
 could bring ourselves to wear pith hel- 
 mets, it would not be so bad ; but with 
 the present fashion of hats, which are 
 neither shade nor shelter, a ride in the 
 sun is pretty nearly certain to end in a 
 bad headache. At all events, this ride 
 had no worse consequence than making 
 us very hungry for our last camp-meal, 
 a solid luncheon, and then there was just 
 time to rush down the hill and clamber 
 into the post-cart for four hours of gal- 
 loping and jolting through the cold 
 spring evening air. My last look was 
 at the white tents of the pretty camp, the 
 smoke of its fires and the smart lines of 
 carbineers and mounted rifles assembling 
 to the bugle-call for another long after- 
 noon of steady drill down in the valley, 
 or "flat," as it is called a picturesque 
 and pretty glimpse, recalling the mem- 
 ory of some very pleasant hours, the 
 prettiest imaginable welcome, and a great 
 deal of hearty and genuine hospitality. 
 
MARITZBURG, September i, 1876. 
 
 I HAVE had many pleasant cups of 
 tea in my life, indoors and out of 
 doors, but never a pleasanter cup than 
 the one I had the other day in a wagon, 
 or, to speak more exactly, by the side of 
 a wagon a wagon, too, upon which one 
 looked with the deepest respect, for it had 
 just come down from a long journey up 
 the country, where it had been trekking 
 these four months past trekking night 
 and day right up to the territory of the 
 Ama-Swazies, through the Thorn coun- 
 try, over hundreds of miles of these end- 
 less billowy hills, rolling in wearying mo- 
 notony day after day ; but and this "but" 
 made up for every other shortcoming 
 amid hunting-grounds happier than often 
 fall to the lot of even the South African 
 explorer. And there were the spoils of 
 the little campaign spread out before us. 
 The first result, however, which struck 
 me was the splendid health of the trav- 
 elers. Sunburned indeed they were, 
 especially the fair young English girl- 
 face which had smiled good-bye to me 
 from the depths of a sun-bonnet last 
 April. But who would not risk a few 
 shades of tan to have gone through such 
 a novel and delightful journey ? I never 
 saw two people look so well in all my 
 life as this adventurous couple, and it 
 was with one voice they declared they 
 had enjoyed every moment of the time. 
 And what a pleasant time it must have 
 been, rewarded as they were and de- 
 served to be by splendid sport ! On 
 the fore part of the wagon lay a goodly 
 pile of skins and quantities of magnif- 
 icent horns, from the ponderous pair on 
 the shaggy buffalo-skulls down to taper 
 points which might have belonged to a 
 fairy buck, so slender, so polished, so in- 
 expressibly graceful, were they. But the 
 trophy of trophies was the skin of a lion, 
 which had been shot in the earliest morn- 
 ing light some twenty yards from the 
 hunter's tent. It was a splendid skin, 
 
 and the curved claws are to be made into 
 a necklace and earrings for the sports- 
 man's wife, who indeed deserves them 
 for bearing her share of the dangers and 
 discomforts of the expedition so cheer- 
 fully and bravely. It was very difficult 
 to elicit the least hint of what the dis- 
 comforts were, or might have been, until 
 at last my eager questions raked out an 
 admission that a week of wet weather 
 (the only one, by the way, in all the 
 four months) was tedious when cooped 
 up under the tilt of the wagon, or that 
 some of the places up and down which 
 the lumbering, unwieldy conveyance had 
 crept were fearful to look at and danger- 
 ous to travel, necessitating a lashing to 
 gether of the wheels by iron chains, as 
 well as the use of the ordinary heavy 
 brake. Yet there had been no upset, no 
 casualty, no serious trouble of any sort ; 
 and I think what these English travelers 
 were more impressed with than anything 
 else was the honesty of the Kafirs. The 
 wagon with its stores of food and wine, 
 of comforts and conveniences of all sorts, 
 had been left absolutely alone by the 
 side of a track crossed and recrossed 
 every hour by Kafirs, and twenty miles 
 short of the place whither the tent had 
 been carried for greater facilities of get- 
 ting at the big game. The oxen were 
 twenty miles off in another direction, 
 under no one's care in particular; the 
 wagon stood absolutely alone ; and yet 
 when the moment of reassembling came 
 every bullock was forthcoming, and noth- 
 ing whatever of any description was miss- 
 ing from the unguarded wagon. The 
 great attraction to the Kafirs along the 
 line of travel had been the empty tins 
 of preserved milk or jam : with tops and 
 bottoms knocked out they made the most 
 resplendent bangles, and became a vio- 
 lent fashion up among the Thorns. 
 
 Nor was that grand lion's skin the only 
 one. There were quagga skins, wolf 
 skins, buck skins of half a dozen differ- 
 125 
 
126 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 ent species, eland skins, buffalo skins, 
 lynx and wild-cat skins enough to start 
 a furrier's shop, and all in excellent pres- 
 ervation, having been tightly pegged out 
 and thoroughly dried. The horns or 
 rather the skulls were still a little high, 
 and needed to be heaped well to leeward 
 before we settled down to tea, camping 
 on kegs and boxes and whatever we could 
 find. I was made proud and happy by 
 being accommodated with a seat on the 
 lion skin ; and exactly opposite to me, 
 tranquilly grazing on the young grass, 
 was the identical donkey which had at- 
 tracted the king of animals to the spot 
 where his fate awaited him. Although 
 camped in the very heart of the lion 
 country, the hunter had neither seen nor 
 heard anything of his big game until this 
 donkey chanced to be added to the stud, 
 and then the lions came roaring round, 
 half a dozen at a time. A huge fire had 
 to be kept up night and day, and close 
 to this the unhappy ass was tethered, for 
 his life would not have been worth much 
 otherwise ; and he seems to have been 
 thoroughly alive to the perils of his situ- 
 ation. Lions can resist anything except 
 ass-flesh, it appears ; but it is so entirely 
 their favorite delicacy that they forget their 
 cunning, and become absolutely reckless 
 in pursuit of it. When at the last ex- 
 tremity of terror, the poor donkey used 
 to lift up his discordant voice, and so 
 keep the prowling foe at bay for a while, 
 though it invariably had the double effect 
 of attracting all the lions within earshot. 
 And so it was that in the early dawn the 
 hunter, hearing the lion's growls coming 
 nearer and nearer, and the poor donkey's 
 brays more and more frequent, stole out, 
 rifle in hand, just in time to get a steady 
 shot at the splendid brute only fifteen 
 yards away, who was hungrily eyeing 
 the miserable ass on the other side of 
 the blazing fire. In spite of all legends 
 to the contrary, a lion never attacks a 
 man first, and this lion turned and moved 
 away directly he saw the sportsman's 
 leveled rifle. Only one shot was fired, 
 for the dull thud of the bullet told that 
 it had struck the lion, and nothing upon 
 earth is so dangerous as a wounded lion. 
 The huge beast walked slowly away, and 
 
 when the full daylight had come the 
 sportsman and a few Kafirs followed up 
 the blood-flecked trail for a quarter of a 
 mile, or less, to find the lion lying down 
 as if asleep, with his head resting on his 
 folded fore paw, quite dead. I don't 
 think I ever understood the weight of 
 a lion until I was told that it took two 
 strong Kafirs to lift one of its ponderous 
 fore feet a few inches even from the 
 ground, and it was almost more than ten 
 men could manage to drag it along the 
 ground by ropes back to the tent. Twen- 
 ty men could scarcely have carried it, 
 the size and weight of the muscle are so 
 enormous. The Kafirs prize the fat of 
 the lion very highly, and the headman 
 of the expedition had claimed this as his 
 perquisite, melting it down into gourds 
 and selling it in infinitesimal portions 
 as an unguent. I don't know what the 
 market-price up country was, but whilst 
 we were laughing and chatting over our 
 tea I saw the crafty Kafir scooping out 
 the tiniest bits of lion's fat in return for 
 a shilling. One of my Kafirs asked 
 leave to go down and buy some. "What 
 for, Jack?" I asked. "Not for me, ma' 
 -for my brudder : make him brave, 
 ma' able for plenty fight, ma'." I am 
 certain, however, that this was a ruse, 
 and that Jack felt his own need of the 
 courage-giving ointment. 
 
 Talking of Jack, reminds me of a visit 
 I had the other day from a detachment 
 of his friends and relatives. They did 
 not come to see Jack : they came to see 
 me, and very amusing visitors they were. 
 First of all, there was a bride, who brought 
 me a young hen as a present. She was 
 attended by two or three scraggy girls of 
 about fifteen, draped only in short man- 
 tles of coarse cloth. The bride herself 
 was exceedingly smart, and had one of 
 the prettiest faces imaginable. Her reg- 
 ular features, oval outline, dazzling teeth 
 and charming expression were not a bit 
 disfigured by her jet-black skin. Her 
 hair was drawn straight up from her head 
 like a tiara, stained red and ornamented 
 with a profusion of bones and skewers, 
 feathers, etc., stuck coquettishly over one 
 ear, and a band of bead embroidery, stud- 
 ded with brass-headed nails, being worn 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 127 
 
 like a fillet where the hair grew low 
 on the forehead. She had a kilt or se- 
 ries of aprons, rather of lynx skins, a 
 sort of bodice of calf skin, and over her 
 shoulders, arranged with ineffable grace, 
 a gay table - cover. Then there were 
 strings of beads on her pretty, shapely 
 throat and arms, and a bright scarlet 
 ribbon tied tight round each ankle. All 
 the rest of the party seemed immensely 
 proud of this young person, and were 
 very anxious to put her forward in every 
 way. Indeed, all the others, mostly hard- 
 working, hard-featured matrons, prema- 
 turely aged, took no more active part 
 than the chorus of a Greek play, always 
 excepting the old induna or headman of 
 the village, who came as escort and in 
 charge of the whole party. He was a 
 most garrulous and amusing individual, 
 full of reminiscences and anecdotes of 
 his fighting days. He was rather more 
 frank than most warriors who 
 
 Shoulder their crutch and show how fields are won, 
 
 for the usual end of his battle-stories was 
 the na'ive confession, "And then I thought 
 I should be killed, and so I ran away." 
 He and I used up a great many interpre- 
 ters in the course of the visit, for he wea- 
 ried every one out, and nothing made 
 him so angry as any attempt to condense 
 his conversation in translating it to me. 
 But he was great fun polite, as became 
 an old soldier, full of compliments and 
 assurances that "now, the happiest day 
 of his life having come, he desired to 
 live no longer, but was ready for death." 
 The visit took place on the shady side of 
 the verandah, and thither I brought my 
 large musical-box and set it down on the 
 ground to play. Never was there such 
 a success. In a moment they were all 
 down on their knees before it, listening 
 with rapt delight, the old man telling 
 them the music was caused by very 
 little people inside the box, who were 
 obliged to do exactly as I bade them. 
 They were all in a perfect ecstasy of 
 delight for ever so long, retreating rap- 
 idly, however, to a distance whenever I 
 wound it up. The old induna took snuff 
 copiously all the time, and made me af- 
 fectionate speeches, which resulted in the 
 
 gift of an old great-coat, which he as- 
 sured me he never should live to wear 
 out, because he was quite in a hurry to 
 die and go to the white man's land, now 
 that he had seen me. We hunted up all 
 manner of queer odds and ends for pres- 
 ents, and made everybody happy in turn. 
 As a final ceremony, I took them through 
 the house : tiny as it is, it filled them with 
 amazement and delight. My long look- 
 ing-glass was at once a terror and a plea- 
 sure to them, for they rather feared be- 
 witchment ; but I held up the baby to see 
 himself in it, and then they were pacified, 
 saying, "The chieftainess never would go 
 and bewitch that nice little chieftain." As 
 usual, the pictures were what they most 
 thoroughly enjqyed. Landseer's prints 
 of wild cattle elicited low cries of recog- 
 nition and surprise: "Zipi in korno !" 
 ("Behold the cows!") My own favor- 
 ite print of the three little foxes was 
 much admired, but pronounced to be 
 "lill catties." The bride was anxious to 
 know why I kept the beds of the estab- 
 lishment on the floor and allowed people 
 to walk over them. She did not consider 
 that a good arrangement evidently ; nor 
 could she understand how matting could 
 be of any use except to sleep on. At 
 last it became time for " scoff," and they 
 all retired to partake of that dainty, the 
 old induna having begged leave to kiss 
 my hands, which he did very gallantly, 
 assuring me he had never been so happy 
 before in all his life, and that he could 
 quite believe now what I had told him 
 about the great white queen over the sea 
 being just as careful for and fond of her 
 black children as of her white ones. I 
 made a great point of this in my con- 
 versations with him, and showed them 
 all Her Majesty's picture, to which they 
 cried "Moochlie!" ("Nice!"), and gave 
 the royal salute. I must say I delight 
 in these little glimpses of Kafir charac- 
 ter ; I find in those whom I come across, 
 like my visitors of last week, so much 
 simple dignity with shrewd common 
 sense. Their minds, too, seem pecu- 
 liarly adapted to receive and profit by 
 anything like culture and civilization, 
 and there certainly is a better founda- 
 tion on which to build up both these 
 
128 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA, 
 
 things than in any other black race with 
 which I am acquainted. 
 
 SEPTEMBER 15. 
 
 Such an expedition as we have just 
 made ! It reminded me exactly of the 
 dear old New Zealand days, only that I 
 should have been sure to have had a bet- 
 ter horse to ride in New Zealand than 
 here. I have a very poor opinion of 
 most of the animals here : anything like 
 a tolerable horse is rare and expensive, 
 and the ordinary run of steeds is ugly to 
 look at, ill-groomed and ill-favored, be- 
 sides not being up to much work. Upon 
 this occasion I was mounted on a coarse- 
 ly-put-together chestnut, who was broken 
 in to carry a lady a few evenings ago 
 whilst I was getting ready for my ride. 
 However, beyond being a little fidgety 
 and difficult to mount, owing to lurking 
 distrust of my habit, he has no objection 
 to carry me. But he is as rough as a 
 cart-horse in his paces, and the way he 
 stops short in his canter or trot, flinging 
 all his legs about anywhere, is enough to 
 jolt one's spine out of the crown of one's 
 head. As for his mouth, it might as well 
 be a stone wall, and he requires to be 
 ridden tightly on the curb to keep him 
 from tripping. When you add to these 
 peculiarities a tendency to shy at every 
 tuft of grass, and a habit of hanging the 
 entire weight of his head on your bridle- 
 hand as soon as he gets the least bit 
 jaded, it must be admitted that it would 
 be easy to find a pleasanter horse for a 
 long, hurried journey. Still, on the prin- 
 ciple of all's well that ends well, I ought 
 not to be so severe on my steed, for the 
 expedition ended well, and was really 
 rather a severe tax on man and beast. 
 This is the way we came to take it : 
 
 Ever since I arrived, now nearly a 
 year ago, I have been hearing of a cer- 
 tain "bush" or forest some forty-five or 
 fifty miles away, which is always named 
 when I break into lamentations over the 
 utter treelessness of Natal. Latterly, I 
 have had even a stronger craving than 
 usual to see something more than a small 
 plantation of blue gums, infantine oaks 
 and baby firs, making a dot here and 
 there amid the eternal undulation of the 
 
 low hills around. "Seven-Mile Bush" 
 has daily grown more attractive to my 
 thoughts, and at last we accepted one 
 of many kind and hospitable invitations 
 
 thither, and I induced F to promise 
 
 that he would forego the dear delight of 
 riding down to his barn-like office for a 
 
 couple of days, and come with Mr. C 
 
 and me to the " bush." This was a great 
 concession on his part ; and I may state 
 here that he never ceased pining for his 
 papers and his arm-chair from the mo- 
 ment we started until we came back. 
 
 It was necessary to make a very early 
 start indeed, and the stars were still 
 shining when we set off, though the first 
 sunbeams were creeping brightly and 
 swiftly over the high eastern hills. It 
 was a fresh morning, in spite of the oc- 
 casional puff of dust -laden air, which 
 seemed to warn us every now and then 
 that there was such a thing as a hot 
 wind to be considered, and also that 
 there had not been a drop of rain for 
 these last five months. The whole coun- 
 try seems ground to powder, and the al- 
 most daily hot winds keep this powder 
 incessantly moving about ; so it is not 
 exactly pleasant for traveling. We pick- 
 ed up our Kafir guide as we rode through 
 the town, and made the best of our way 
 at once across the flats between this and 
 Edendale, which we left on our right, 
 climbing slowly and tediously up a high 
 hill above it; then down again and up 
 again, constantly crossing clear, cold, 
 bright rivulets a welcome moment to 
 horse and rider, for already our lips are 
 feeling swollen and baked ; across stony 
 reefs and ridges cropping out from bare 
 hillsides ; past many a snug Kafir kraal 
 clinging like the beehives of a giant to 
 the side of a steep pitch, with the long 
 red wagon-track stretching out as though 
 for ever and ever before us. The sun is 
 hot, very hot, but we have left it behind 
 us in the valleys below, and we sweep 
 along wherever there is a foothold for 
 the horses, with a light and pleasant air 
 blowing in our faces. Still, it is with 
 feelings of profound content that at the 
 end of a twenty-mile stage we see "Tay- 
 lor's," a roadside shanty, looking like 
 a child's toy set down on the vast flat 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 129 
 
 around, but uncommonly comfortable 
 and snug inside, with mealie-gardens 
 and forage - patches around, and more 
 accommodation than one would have 
 believed possible beneath its low, thatch- 
 ed eaves from the first bird's-eye glance. 
 The horses are made luxuriously com- 
 fortable directly in a roomy, cool shed, 
 and we sit down to an impromptu break- 
 fast in the cleanest of all inn-parlors. I 
 have no doubt it would have been a very 
 comprehensive and well-arranged meal, 
 but the worst of it was it never had a 
 chance of being taken as a whole. What- 
 ever edible the nice, tidy landlady put 
 down on her snowy cloth vanished like 
 a conjuring trick before she had time to 
 bring the proper thing to go with it. We 
 ate our breakfast backward and forward, 
 and all sorts of ways, beginning with 
 jam, sardines, and mustard, varied by 
 eggs, and ending with rashers of bacon. 
 As for the tea, we had drunk up all the 
 milk and eaten the sugar by the time the 
 pot arrived. The only thing which at 
 all daunted us was some freshly-made 
 boers' bread, of the color of a sponge, 
 the consistency of clay and the weight 
 of pig iron. We were quite respectful 
 to that bread, and only ventured to break 
 off little crusts here and there and eat it 
 guardedly, for it was a fearful condiment. 
 Still, we managed to eat an enormous 
 breakfast in spite of it, and so did the 
 horses; and we all started in highest 
 condition and spirits a little before two 
 o'clock, having had more than a couple 
 of hours' rest. After riding hard for 
 some time, galloping over every yard of 
 anything approaching to broken ground, 
 we ventured to begin to question our 
 guide who kept up with us in an amaz- 
 ing manner, considering the prominence 
 of his little rough pony's ribs as to the 
 remaining distance between us and "Sev- 
 en-Mile Bush." Imagine our horror when 
 he crooked his hand at right angles to 
 his wrist, and made slowly and distinct- 
 ly five separate dips with it, pointing 
 to the horizon as he did so ! Now, the 
 alarming part was, that there were five 
 distinct and ever-rising ranges of hills 
 before us, the range which made a hard 
 ridge against the dazzling sky being of 
 9 
 
 a deep and misty purple, so distant was 
 it. We had been assured at Taylor's 
 that only twenty-five miles more lay 
 between us and the "bush," and those 
 mountains must be now at least thirty 
 miles off. But the guide only grins and 
 nods his head, and kicks with his bare 
 heels against his pony's pronounced ribs, 
 and we hasten on once more. On our 
 right hand, but some distance off, rises 
 the dark crest of the Swartzkopf Moun- 
 tain, and beneath its shadow, extending 
 over many thousand acres of splendid 
 pasture-ground, is what is known as the 
 Swartzkopf Location, a vast tract of coun- 
 try reserved or rather appropriated to 
 the use of a large tribe of Kafirs. They 
 dwell here in peace and plenty, and, until 
 the other day, in prosperity too. But a 
 couple of years ago lung-sickness broke 
 out and decimated their herds, reducing 
 the tribe to the very verge of starva- 
 tion and misery. However, they bat- 
 tled manfully with the scourge, but it 
 gave them a distrust of cattle, and they 
 took every opportunity of exchanging 
 oxen for horses, of which they now own 
 a great number. What we should have 
 called in New Zealand "mobs " of them 
 were to be seen peacefully pasturing 
 themselves on the slopes around us, and 
 in almost every nook and hollow nestled 
 a Kafir kraal. Here and there were large 
 irregular patches of brown on the fast 
 greening hillsides, and these straggling 
 patches, rarely if ever fenced, were the 
 mealie-gardens belonging to the kraals. 
 By four of the clock we have made 
 such good way that we can afford imme- 
 diately after crossing Eland's River, a 
 beautiful stream, to "off saddle " and sit 
 down and rest by its cool banks for a 
 quarter of an hour. Then, tightening 
 up our girths, we push off once more. 
 It has been up hill the whole way, just 
 excepting the sudden sharp descent into 
 a deep valley on the farther side of each 
 range ; but the increasing freshness 
 nay, sharpness of the air proved to us 
 how steadily we had been climbing up 
 to a high level ever since we had passed 
 through Edendale. From this point of 
 the journey the whole scenic character 
 of the country became widely different 
 
I 3 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 from anything I have hitherto seen in 
 Natal. For the first time I began to un- 
 derstand what a wealth of beauty lies 
 hidden away among her hills and valleys, 
 and that the whole country is not made 
 up of undulating downs, fertile flats and 
 distant purple hills. At the top of the 
 very first ridge up which we climbed after 
 crossing Eland's River a perfectly new 
 and enchanting landscape opened out 
 before us, and it gained in majesty and 
 beauty with every succeeding mile of our 
 journey. Ah ! how can I make you see 
 it in all its grandeur of form and glory 
 of color ? The ground is broken up ab- 
 ruptly into magnificent masses cliffs, 
 terraces and rocky crags. The hills ex- 
 pand into abrupt mountain-ranges, ser- 
 rated in bold relief against the loveliest 
 sky blazing with coming sunset splen- 
 dors. Every cleft or kloof, as it is call- 
 ed here is filled with fragments of 
 the giant forest which until quite lately 
 must have clothed these rugged moun- 
 tain-sides. Distant hill-slopes, still bare 
 with wintry leanness, catch some slant- 
 ing sun-rays on their scanty covering of 
 queer, reddish grass, and straightway 
 glow like sheets of amethyst and topaz, 
 and behind them lie transparent deep- 
 blue shadows of which no pigment ever 
 spread on mortal palette could give the 
 exquisite delicacy and depth. Under 
 our horses' feet the turf might be off 
 the Sussex downs, so close and firm and 
 delicious is it the very thing for sheep, 
 of which we only see a score here and 
 there. " Why are there not more sheep ?" 
 I ask indignantly, with my old squatter 
 instincts coming back in full force upon 
 
 me. Mr. C translates my question 
 
 to the Kafir guide, who grins and kicks 
 his pony's ribs and says, " No can keep 
 ship here. Plenty Kafir dog : eat up all 
 ships two, tree day." "Yes, that is ex- 
 actly the reason," Mr. C says, "but 
 
 I wanted you to hear it from himself." 
 And ever after this, I, remembering the 
 dearness and scarcity of mutton in Ma- 
 ritzburg, and seeing all this splendid feed 
 growing for nothing, look with an eye 
 of extreme disfavor and animosity on 
 all the gaunt, lean curs I see prowling 
 about the kraals. Almost every Kafir 
 
 we meet has half a dozen of these poach- 
 ing-looking brutes at his heels, and it 
 exasperates me to hear that there is a 
 dog law or ordinance, or something of 
 that sort, " only it has not come into op- 
 eration yet." I wish it would come into 
 operation to-morrow, and so does every 
 farmer in the country, I should think. 
 Yes, in spite of this fairest of fair scenes 
 and in all my gypsy life I have never 
 seen anything much more beautiful I 
 feel quite cross and put out to think of 
 imaginary fat sheep being harried by 
 these useless, hideous dogs. 
 
 But the horses are beginning to go 
 a little wearily, and gladly pause to wet 
 their muzzles and cool their hoofs in ev- 
 ery brook we cross. I am free to confess 
 that I am getting very tired, for nothing 
 is so wearying as a sudden, hurried jour- 
 ney like this, and I am also excessively 
 hungry and thirsty. The sun dips down 
 quite suddenly behind a splendid confu- 
 sion of clouds and mountain-tops, lights 
 up the whole sky for a short while with 
 translucent masses of crimson and am- 
 ber, which fade swiftly away into stran- 
 gest, tenderest tints of primrose and pale 
 green, and then a flood of clear cold 
 moonlight breaks over all and bathes 
 everything in a differing but equally 
 beautiful radiance. Three ridges have 
 now been climbed, and the pertinacious 
 guide only dips his hand twice more in 
 answer to my peevish questions about 
 the distance. Nay, he promises in won- 
 derful Dutch and Kafir phraseology to 
 show me the "baas's" house (whither 
 we are bound) from the very next ridge. 
 But what a climb it is ! and what a pan- 
 orama do we look down upon from the 
 topmost crag before commencing the 
 steep descent, this time through a bit 
 of dense forest ! It is all as distinct as 
 day, and yet there is that soft, ineffable 
 veil of mystery and silence which moon- 
 light wraps up everything in. We look 
 over immense tree-tops, over plains which 
 seem endless beneath the film of evening 
 mist creeping over them, to where the 
 broad Umkomanzi rushes and roars 
 amid great boulders and rocks, leaping 
 every here and there over a crag down 
 to a lower level of its wide and rocky 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 bed. In places the fine river widens 
 out into a mere, and then it sleeps tran- 
 quilly enough in the moonlight, making 
 great patches of shimmering silver amid 
 the profound shadows cast by hill and 
 forest. Beyond, again, are mountains, 
 always mountains, and one more day's 
 journey like this would take us into 
 Adam Kop's Land. As we look at it 
 all now, it does indeed seem "a sleepy 
 world of dreams;" but in another mo- 
 ment the panorama is shut out, for we 
 are amid the intense darkness of the for- 
 est-path, stepping carefully down what 
 resembles a stone ladder placed at an an- 
 gle of 45. Of course I am frightened, 
 and of course my fright shows itself in 
 crossness and in incoherent reproaches. 
 I feel as if I were slipping down on my 
 horse's neck ; and so I am, I believe. 
 But nobody will "take me off," which is 
 what I earnestly entreat. Both my gen- 
 tlemen retain unruffled good-humor, and 
 adjure me "not to think about it," coup- 
 led with assurances of perfect safety. I 
 hear, however, a great deal of slipping 
 and sliding and rolling of displaced 
 rocks even after these consoling an- 
 nouncements of safety, and orders are 
 given to each weary steed to "hold up;" 
 which orders are not at all reassuring. 
 Somebody told me somewhere it seems 
 months ago, but it must have been early 
 in the afternoon that this particular and 
 dreadful hill was only three-quarters of a 
 mile from the "baas's;" so you may im- 
 agine my mingled rage and disappoint- 
 ment at hearing that it was still rather 
 more than three miles off. And three 
 miles at this stage of the journey is 
 equal to thirteen at an earlier date. It 
 is wonderful how well the horses hold 
 out. This last bit of the road is almost 
 flat, winding round the gentlest undula- 
 tion possible, and it is as much as I can 
 do to hold the chestnut, who has caught 
 sight evidently of twinkling lights there 
 under the lee of that great wooded cliff. 
 No sound can ever be so delightful to a 
 wearied and belated traveler as the bark 
 of half a dozen dogs, and no greeting 
 more grateful than their rough caresses, 
 half menace and half play. But there is a 
 much warmer and more cordial welcome 
 
 waiting for us behind the sako bono of 
 the dogs, and I find myself staggering 
 about as if the water I have been drink- 
 ing so freely all day had been something 
 much stronger. On my feet at last in 
 such a pretty sitting-room! Pictures, 
 books, papers, all sorts of comforts and 
 conveniences, and, sight of joy ! a tea- 
 table all ready, even to the tea-pot, which 
 had been brought in when the dogs an- 
 nounced us. If I had even sixpence for 
 every cup of tea I drank that evening, I 
 should be a rich woman to the end of my 
 days. As for the milk, deliciously fresh 
 from the cow, it was only to be equaled 
 by the cream ; and you must have lived 
 all these months in Natal before you can 
 appreciate as we did the butter, which 
 looked and tasted like butter, instead of 
 the pale, salt, vapid compound, as much 
 lard as anything else, for which we pay 
 three shillings and sixpence a pound in 
 Maritzburg, and which has been cost- 
 ing six shillings in Port Elizabeth all this, 
 winter. 
 
 It is always a marvel to me, arriving 
 at night at these out-of-the-way places, 
 which seem the very Ultima Thule of 
 the habitable globe, how the furniture, 
 the glass and china, the pictures and or- 
 naments and books, get there. How has 
 anybody energy to think of transporting 
 all these perishable articles over that 
 road? Think of their jolting in a bul- 
 lock-wagon down that hill ! One fancies 
 if one lived here it must needs be a Rob- 
 inson-Crusoe existence ; instead of which 
 it is as comfortable as possible ; and if 
 one did not remember the distance and 
 the road and the country, one might be 
 in England, except for the Kafir boys, 
 barefooted and white-garmented, some- 
 thing like choristers, who are gliding 
 about with incessant relays of food for 
 us famished ones. The sweet little gold- 
 en-haired children, rosy and fresh as the 
 bough of apple-blossoms they are play- 
 ing with, the pretty chatelaine in her 
 fresh toilette, all might have been 
 taken up in a beneficent fairy's thumb 
 and transported, a moment ago, from 
 the heart of civilization to this its far- 
 thest extremity. As for sleep, you must 
 slumber in just such a bed if you want 
 
I 3 2 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 to know what a good night's rest is, and 
 then wake up as we did, with all memo- 
 ries of the long, wearying day's jour- 
 ney clean blotted out of one's mind, 
 and nothing in it but eagerness not to 
 lose a moment of the lovely fresh and 
 cool day before us. Even the sailing 
 clouds are beautiful, and the shadows 
 they cast over the steep mountains, the 
 broad rivers and the long dark belt of 
 forest are more beautiful still. Of course, 
 the "bush " is the great novelty to us who 
 have not seen a tree larger than a dozen 
 years' growth could make it since we 
 landed ; and it is especially beautiful 
 just now, for although, like all native 
 forests, it is almost entirely evergreen 
 (there is a more scientific word than 
 that, isn't there?), still, there are patches 
 and tufts of fresh green coming out in 
 delicate spring tints, which show vividly 
 against the sombre mass of foliage. But 
 oh, I wish they had not such names ! 
 Handed down to us from our Dutch 
 predecessors, they must surely have got 
 changed in some incomprehensible fash- 
 ion, for what rhyme or reason, what sense 
 or satire, is there in such a name as "can- 
 nibal stink-wood"? applied, too, to a 
 graceful, handsome tree, whose bark 
 gives out an aromatic though pungent 
 perfume. Is it not a libel ? For a tree 
 with a particularly beautifully - veined 
 wood, of a deep amber color, they could 
 think of no more poetical or suggestive 
 name than simply " yellow-wood :" a tree 
 whose wood is of a rich veined brown, 
 which goes, too, beautifully with the yel- 
 low-wood in furniture,, is merely called 
 "iron-wood," because it chances to be 
 hard; and so forth. 
 
 Before going to the "bush," however, 
 we consider ourselves bound to go and 
 look at the . great saw-mill down by the 
 Umkomanzi, where all these trees are 
 divided and subdivided, cut into lengths 
 of twenty feet, sawn into planks, half a 
 dozen at a time, and otherwise changed 
 from forest kings to plain, humdrum piles 
 and slabs and posts for bridges, roof- 
 trees, walls, and what not. There is the 
 machinery at work, with just one ripple, 
 as it were, of the rushing river turned 
 aside by a little sluice, to drive the great 
 
 wheel round and set all the mysterious 
 pistons and levers moving up and down in 
 their calm, monotonous strength, doing 
 all sorts of miraculous things in the most 
 methodical, commonplace manner. I 
 was much struck by the physiognomy of 
 the only two white men employed about 
 this mill. There were some assistant 
 Kafirs of course, but these two in their 
 widely-different ways were at once repel- 
 lent and interesting. One of them was, 
 I think, the biggest man I ever saw. To 
 say that he looked like a tall tree him- 
 self among his fellows is to give you, 
 after all, the best idea of his enormous 
 height and powerful build. He moved 
 huge logs about with scarcely an effort, 
 and it was entirely for his enormous phys- 
 ical strength that our host kept him in 
 his place. I did not need to be told he 
 was one of the most persistent and con- 
 sistent bad characters imaginable, for a 
 single glance at his evil countenance was 
 enough to suggest that he could hardly 
 be a very satisfactory member of society. 
 He had only one eye, and about as hang- 
 dog, sullen, lowering a countenance as 
 one would see out of the hulks. His 
 "mate" was a civil, tidy, wizen-looking, 
 elderly man, who might have appeared 
 almost respectable by the side of the 
 bigger villain if his shaking hand and 
 bleared, restless eyes had not told his 
 story plainly enough. Still, if he could 
 only be kept out of temptation the old 
 man might be trusted ; but our host con- 
 fessed that he did not half like retaining 
 the services of the other, and yet did not 
 know where to find any one who would 
 or could do his work so easily and ad- 
 mirably. It is almost impossible to get 
 any men to come and live up here, so 
 far away from their fellow-creatures and 
 from everything except their work; so 
 one has to put up with a thousand draw- 
 backs in the service one is able to pro- 
 cure. I was glad when we turned our 
 backs upon that villainous-looking giant 
 arid strolled beneath a perfect sun and 
 sky and balmy air toward the lowest 
 kloof or cleft where the great "bush" 
 ran down between two steep spurs. The 
 grass of the downs over which we walk- 
 ed had all the elasticity of tread of turf 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 to our feet, but they ended abruptly in a 
 sort of terrace, under which ran a noisy, 
 chattering brooklet in a vast hurry to 
 reach the Umkomanzi over yonder. It 
 is easy to scramble down among the tan- 
 gle of ferns and reeds and across the 
 boulders which this long dry winter has 
 left bare, and so strike one of the Bush- 
 men's paths without difficulty, and get 
 into the heart of the forest before we 
 allow ourselves to sit down and look 
 around us. How wonderfully poetical 
 and beautiful it all is ! the tall, stately 
 trees around us, with their smooth mag- 
 nificent boles shooting up straight as a 
 willow wand for sixty feet and more be- 
 fore putting forth their crown of lofty 
 branches, the more diminutive under- 
 growth of gracefulest shrubs and plumy 
 tufts of fern and lovely wild flowers 
 violets, clematis, wood-anemones and he- 
 paticas showing here and there a mod- 
 est gleam of color. But indeed the very 
 mosses and lichens at our feet are a 
 week's study, and so are the details of 
 the delicate green tracery creeping close 
 to the ground. The trees, the actual 
 great forest trees, are our delight, how- 
 ever, and we never weary of calling to 
 each other to "come and look at this 
 one," extemporizing measuring - lines 
 from the endless green withies which 
 hang in loops and festoons from the 
 higher branches. Thirty feet round five 
 feet from the ground is not an uncom- 
 mon measurement, and it is half sad, 
 half amusing to see how in an hour or 
 so we too begin to look upon everything 
 as timber, to call the most splendid trees 
 "blocks" (the woodman's word), and to 
 speculate and give opinions as to the best 
 way of "falling" the beautiful stems. 
 Up above our heads the foliage seems 
 all interlaced and woven together by a 
 perfect network of these monkey ropes 
 a stout and sturdy species of Kane, 
 really such as I have seen swinging 
 from West India forest trees. Here 
 they are actually used as a sort of tra- 
 peze by the troops of baboons which 
 live in these great woods, coming down 
 in small armies when the mealies are 
 ripe, and carrying off literally armsful 
 of cobs. The Kafirs dread the baboons 
 
 more than anything else, and there is a 
 regular organized system of warfare be- 
 tween them, in which the baboons by no 
 means get the worst. I heard a sicken- 
 ing story of how only last season the 
 Kafirs of a kraal close by, infuriated 
 by their losses, managed to catch an old 
 baboon, leader of his troop, and skinned 
 him and let him go again into the woods. 
 It is too horrible to think of such cruelty, 
 and it seemed a blot upon the lovely 
 idyllic scene around us. All the wild 
 animals with which the bush was teem- 
 ing until a very few years ago are grad- 
 ually being driven farther and farther 
 back into the highest part, which has 
 not yet been touched by axe or hatchet. 
 There are still many kinds of buck, how- 
 ever we saw three splendid specimens 
 grazing just outside besides other game. 
 It must not so long ago, either have 
 been the quiet forest home of many a 
 wild creature, for there are pits now to 
 be seen, one of which we came across 
 with sharp stakes at the bottom, dug to 
 trap elephants, whose bones lie there to 
 this day. Tigers also have been seen, 
 and panthers and leopards, but they 
 grow scarcer every year. The aborig- 
 inal inhabitants of the border country 
 beyond, the little Bushmen the lowest 
 type of human creatures used to come 
 down and hunt in great numbers here in 
 this very spot where we are sitting, and 
 traces of their ingenious methods of 
 snaring their prey are to be seen in 
 many places. 
 
 As I sat there, with the tinkle of the 
 water in my ears, sole break in the 
 "charmed silence" around, I could not 
 make up my mind which was the most 
 enchanting, to look up or down up to 
 where the tenderest tint of cobalt blue 
 showed through the flicker of green 
 leaves nearly a hundred feet above us, 
 and where a sudden terror among the 
 birds drove them in bright - plumaged 
 flight from bough to bough ; or down on 
 the ground among the delicious brown 
 leaves and wonderful minutiae of dimin- 
 utive tendril and flower. Here and there 
 were fallen crimson and yellow leaves, 
 riveting the eye for a moment by their 
 vivid glow, or the young fronds of a rare 
 
134 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 fern over yonder are pushing up their 
 curled horns of pale green. A month 
 hence it will be all carpeted with wild 
 flowers, and the heaths will be spires of 
 tiny bells. There is also a coarse but 
 sweet grass, growing luxuriantly, on 
 which the cattle love to feed when all 
 the herbage outside is parched and burn- 
 ed to the very root. 
 
 As I read over what I have written, I 
 am filled with a deep disgust to perceive 
 how impossible it has been for me to 
 catch even the faintest reflection of the 
 charm of that forest-glade how its sub- 
 tle beauty is not, by any poor words of 
 mine, to be transferred to paper how 
 its stillness and its life, its grandeur and 
 its delicate pretti nesses, the aroma of the 
 freshly-cut logs, the chirrup of the cica- 
 las, the twitter of the birds, all, all escape 
 me. Yet I shall have failed indeed if I 
 have not been able to convey to you that 
 it was a delicious hour, and that I enjoy- 
 ed every moment of it. I am only a wo- 
 man, so I was content to sit there plait- 
 ing a crown of ferns, and thinking how 
 I should tell you all about it some day, 
 perhaps. My companions conversed to- 
 gether, and their talk was entirely about 
 killing something "sport" they called 
 it how best they could get a shot at 
 those graceful bucks over yonder ; what 
 a pity the close season had begun ; what 
 partridges there were; when the wild- 
 ducks would come down to that large 
 mere shining in the distance; whether 
 there were any wild - pigeons ; how far 
 into the unexplored bush one must pen- 
 etrate to get a shot at a panther ; and so 
 forth. It seemed a desecration to talk 
 of taking life on such a heavenly morn- 
 ing, and I was glad when it all ended in 
 a project of a fishing-excursion after a 
 late luncheon. 
 
 As we found we should be obliged to 
 start early to-morrow morning, I decided 
 to stay at home and rest this afternoon ; 
 and I did not regret my resolution, for 
 it was very pleasant by the fire, and our 
 beautiful morning turned into a raw, cold 
 drizzle. But, as the people about here 
 say, it has really forgotten how to rain, 
 and it is more like a Scotch mist than 
 anything else. Whatever it may be call- 
 
 ed, it blots out mountain and forest and 
 river, and causes the fishing -excursion 
 to turn into the dismalest failure. Next 
 morning, too, when we start after break- 
 fast, we are all glad of our waterproofs 
 (what should I do without my ulster?), 
 and the ground is as slippery as though 
 it had been soaped. Our farewells are 
 made, and we declare that we have no 
 need of our Kafir guide again, though I 
 confess to misgivings as to how we are 
 to find our road through so thick a mist. 
 It has also been decided, for the sake of 
 the horses, to take them only as far as 
 Taylor's to-night, and so break the jour- 
 ney. But the question is, Shall we ever 
 find Taylor's? for it is a little off the 
 track, and we cannot see five yards 
 to our right hand or our left. We are 
 obliged to go very slowly, and there are- 
 places, steep up and down hill, where in 
 spite of precaution and picking out grass 
 or stones to go over, our horses' feet fly 
 from under them, and we each in our 
 turn come down on the damp red clay 
 in an awkward sprawl. However, we do 
 not disgrace ourselves by tumbling off, 
 and my poor habit fares the worst, for 
 the chestnut always seems to pick him- 
 self up, in some odd way, by its help ; 
 and the process is not beneficial to it. 
 Eland's River is crossed early in the af- 
 ternoon, and then, slippery or not, we 
 are forced to push on, for it seems as 
 though it intended to be pitchy dark by 
 four o'clock, and the mist turns into a 
 thick, fine rain. At last, about half-past 
 four, we hear on our left the joyful sound 
 of barking dogs and crowing cocks, and 
 the horses of their own accord show a 
 simultaneous desire to turn off the track, 
 to which, with its guiding wagon-wheels, 
 we have so persistently clung. If it be 
 not Taylor's if it turns out that these 
 sounds come only from a Kafir kraal 
 then indeed I don't know what we shall 
 do, for we can never find the track again. 
 It is an anxious moment, and Taylor's is 
 so small and so low that we are as likely 
 as not to ride right over it ; but no, there 
 is a wagon, and behind the wagon, and 
 not much higher, is a thatched roof, and 
 under that thatched roof are warmth and 
 food and shelter and a warm, cordial 
 
LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 '35 
 
 welcome ; all of which good things we 
 are enjoying in five minutes' time. As 
 for the horses, they are rubbed down 
 and put to stand in a warm shed, with 
 bedding up to their knees and a perfect 
 orgie of mealies and green forage before 
 them in boxes. Let us hope they enjoy- 
 ed the contrast between indoors and out 
 of doors as much as we did. At all 
 events, they were freshness itself next 
 morning, when we made another start 
 not quite so early, for only the lesser 
 half of our long journey lay before us, 
 and the flood of sunshine made it worth 
 while to wait a little and let the soapy 
 clay tracks have a chance to get dry. 
 It was exquisitely fresh and balmy 
 about nine o'clock, when, after a capital 
 breakfast, we did start at last, and the 
 well -washed hills had actually put on 
 quite a spring-green tint since we passed 
 them a couple of days ago from yester- 
 day's long looked-for, much-wanted rain. 
 I went through many anxieties, however, 
 on that return journey, because my two 
 companions, who were in the most tear- 
 ing, school-boy spirits, insisted on leav- 
 ing the road with its guiding marks of 
 wagon-wheels, as well as every landmark 
 to which I fondly clung, and taking me 
 across country, over hill and dale, through 
 swampy hollows and over rocky goat- 
 paths, until I was quite bewildered and 
 thoroughly incredulous as to where we 
 should emerge. It is true that the dark 
 crest of Swartzkopf lay steadily to our 
 left, just where it should be, but I inva- 
 riably protested we were all wrong when 
 I had any leisure or breath to do any- 
 thing but "hold on with my eyelids " up 
 and down hill. At last we climbed up 
 our last hill-face, and there, below us, 
 literally smiling in the sunshine, lay the 
 pretty little mission settlement of Eden- 
 dale. We were exactly where we want- 
 ed, topographically speaking, to be, but 
 between us and Edendale the mountain 
 dropped sheer down, as it seemed to me, 
 and naught but a goat-path was there. 
 " Of course we are going to get off and 
 lead our horses down," I fondly hope. 
 No such thing! I can't very well get 
 off by myself, for the precipice is so sheer 
 that I should certainly drop down a hun- 
 
 dred feet or so. F steadily declines 
 
 to "take me off," and begins to slip and 
 slither down the track on horseback. I 
 feel my saddle getting into all sorts of 
 odd positions, and I believe I am seated 
 on my horse's ears, although I lean back 
 until I can nearly touch his tail. It is 
 really horrible. I get more and more 
 
 cross every moment, and scold F 
 
 and reproach Mr. C furiously all the 
 
 way down, without eliciting the smallest 
 sign of remorse from either. But it is 
 very difficult to remain cross when once 
 we have reached the foot of that cruel 
 descent, for it is all inexpressibly lovely 
 and calm and prosperous that beautiful 
 spring morning. Everybody seems busy, 
 and yet good-humored. The little black 
 children grinned and saluted on their 
 way to school; the elders cried "Sako 
 bono, inkosa !" as they looked up from 
 their basket - plaiting or their wagon- 
 making ; the mill - wheel turned mer- 
 rily with a busy clatter inexpressibly 
 cool and charming ; the numerous fowls 
 and ducks cackled and quacked as they 
 scuttled from under our horses' feet. 
 We rode down the main street, with its 
 neat row of unburnt brick houses on 
 either hand, across a little river, and so, 
 under avenues of syringas whose heavy 
 perfume filled the delicious air, out into 
 the open country once more. It is near- 
 ly a dead level between this and Maritz- 
 burg, and the road is in good order after 
 the long winter drought ; so we make 
 the best of our way, and hardly draw 
 rein until we are under the lee of the 
 hill on which Fort Napier stands. Here 
 is a villainous bit of road, a perfect study 
 of ingenuity as to cross-drains, holes and 
 pitfalls generally; so the horses take 
 breath once more for an easy canter 
 down the quiet straight streets of the 
 sleepy little Dutch town. Our cottage 
 lies beyond it and across the river, but 
 it is still early, hardly noon in fact, when 
 we pull up at our own stable-door, and 
 the horses seem every whit as fresh and 
 in as good condition as when we started, 
 yet they have gone close upon one hun- 
 dred miles from first to last, 
 
 Over hill, over dale, 
 Through brush, through brier. 
 
136 
 
 LETTERS FROM SOUTH AFRICA. 
 
 SEPTEMBER 25. 
 
 I declare I have not said anything 
 about the weather for a long time. I 
 cannot finish mere appropriately than 
 by one of my little meteorological re- 
 ports. The skies are trying to remem- 
 ber how to rain ; we have every now 
 and then a cold, gray day a day which 
 is my particular delight, it is so like an 
 English one; then rain more or less 
 heavy, and an attempt at a thunder- 
 storm. The intervening days are bright- 
 ly glaring and exceedingly hot. Every- 
 thing is bursting hurriedly and luxuriant- 
 ly into bloom ; my scraggy rose-bushes 
 are thickly covered with buds, which 
 
 blow into splendid roses after every 
 shower ; the young oaks are a mass of 
 tender, luxuriant green, and even the 
 unpoetical blue gums try hard to assume 
 a fresh spring tint ; the fruit trees look 
 like large bouquets of pink blossom, 
 and the laquot trees afford good sport 
 for G in climbing and stone- throw- 
 ing. On the veldt the lilies are pushing 
 up their green sheaths and brilliant cups 
 through the still hard ground, the black 
 hill-slopes are turning a vivid green, and 
 the weeds are springing up in millions all 
 over my field-like flower-beds. Spring is 
 always lovely everywhere, but nowhere 
 lovelier than in "fair Natal." 
 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., PHILADELPHIA. 
 
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