They had not proceeded far before the turf began to tell severely on the pace of the horses. At first they slackened their speed only a little, but soon they were going at barely more than a walk. The sticky black soil was coating the wheels to such a degree that the spokes gradually became nearer and nearer to each other, until the wheels had no spokes, but became a solid mass of black turf. All that the travellers could do was to halt and scrape off the worst part of the mud, when for a time they were able to go on again at a slightly better pace. Full advantage was taken of any unbroken veld, where the heavy waggons had not yet cut up the soil into furrows and ridges of soft black soil. But these patches were scarce, as every driver of waggon or cart generally turns out of the beaten track into the grass alongside, and in course of time the quarter or half mile strip of country, which is supposed to be left unfenced along all roads as feeding ground for trekking herds, becomes so cut up that very little choice is left the traveller as to where he shall steer his weary beasts.
The young men were wearily and dejectedly plodding along, dismounting now and again to scrape the wheels, when they came to a waggon standing in the middle of the road—deserted. The oxen were still inspanned and seemed waiting for their owner. No fear of their running away; how could they? Their own feet were invisible, a round mass of blackturf—twice the usualsize of ox feet—was all that was visible where their feet ought to be, while the wheels of the waggon seemed to be made of solid chunks of mud—no spokes, no rims, no naves being visible.
‘Well, this is funny,’ remarked Harrison; ‘a waggon without owner. There is something wrong here; nobody would leave their waggon inspanned like this—untended.’
‘Yes, it is queer,’ answered Steve. ‘But I fancy there is the owner coming on,’ said he, pointing to a man visible in the road about half a mile farther on.
‘It may be the owner, but he is not coming, but standing, evidently waiting for the party I see farther on.’
‘Why, the nearest one is a woman,’ said Keith, ‘the other one is a man; but I wonder what is the matter with them? They both remain standing on one spot, but they are gesticulating like mad.’
They soon approached the first party they had seen.Itwasa woman. She was an elderly old lady, very stout in the beams, and one would have thought, even under ordinary circumstances, she must find it difficult to walk any distance. She appeared to be standing on two lumps of turf, but—they were sticking to her feet. Every step she took increased the size of the lump, until at last she was obliged to stop, she could drag her burden (which, unlike that of Christian, was attached to her feet) along no more.
‘Well, I’m blessed if it is not old Mrs M’Kwaire,’ cried Steve.
‘And who may she be?’ queried Keith.
‘Why, she is Mrs M’Kwaire,’ he replied, laughing. ‘She is an old lady of Dutch extraction, married to an old Irishman, both characters in their way—very comical and amusing as a rule; it is most amusing to set old M’Kwaire’s tongue a-wagging by mentioningHome Rule. If you once start him, you may go away for half-an-hour and come back to find him still talking to some imaginaryantagonist about Home Rule and the wrongs of Ireland.’
‘Hillo, Tante, why don’t you ride on the waggon?’ cried out Steve, as they stopped alongside of her.
‘That is what I would like to do,’ she replied, ‘but that foolish Pat would get down to pick up a yoke skey lying in the road, when he remainedstuck, and, as the oxen would not stop, I, like another fool, got down to help him while the oxen walked on with the waggon to where it is now standing. And now I am sticking between Pat and the waggon; I can’t get to him, he cannot get to me, and neither of us can get to the waggon.’
The young fellows could not help bursting into loud roars of laughter at the ludicrousness of the scene. They halted as near to the old lady as possible, and helped her on to their cart and drove on to where Pat was standing, talking and swearing all the time.
‘Well, oldStick-in-the-mud,’ cried Keith, ‘it seems the mountainwon’tcome to Mahomet, and Mahometcan’tgo to the mountain; what does Mahomet intend doing now?’ All laughed at this sally.
‘Begorrah, sor, ye niver would lave a pore old mon ’ere.’
‘No, I am afraid that would be another wrong to old Oireland. Well, Pat, if Ireland can get out of her troubles as easily as you, I would advise you to get back to her, and stand for the first election of president, king, or emperor, whatever your new constitution would call your chief ruler. I think you stand a good chance.’
‘Come along, Keith, that is enough for one day, you are getting too humorously clever,’ said Steve. ‘Give us your hand, Pat, and jump up if you can.’
But Pat could not jump. He had to be dragged into the cart, and was thus able to sit down and scrape his feet clean again.
Pat and Mrs Pat were driven back to their waggon,and left behind to proceed to their farm, while the party in the cart proceeded on their way to Pretoria, where they arrived just as darkness was closing in.
‘There is one thing I would like to remark now that we are home again,’ remarked Keith. ‘And it is just this. I have been converted. I had always been impressed with the idea that the Boers are half savage, exclusive, inhospitable and unkind to strangers, especially to Englishmen. I have seen my error. I do not believe there is a country in the world where one would receive such kindness, consideration and hospitality as we have received during our trip. I for one reckon myself as the friend and champion of all Boers from to-day.’
‘You are right,’ said Harrison. ‘When we started, I hardly believed Steve’s promise of hospitality from all and sundry, and fully expected to have rough times of it, and I have been agreeably disappointed at the kindness shown us by all.’
The day after their return, Steve heard faint rumours of a certain conference which had been held in Pretoria the last few days in reference to territories lying beyond the northern borders of the South African Republic. He had been too busy attending to accumulated work to take much notice, or to inquire about it. But now it was evening and after dinner, and he was comfortably seated in an arm-chair in the sitting-room of his boarding-house. He was listening to the usual after-dinner debate on current topics.
‘What is that you are saying about the Transvaal signing its own death warrant, Thomson?’ he asked.
‘I say that the Transvaal signs its own death warrant in agreeing to waive any rights they may have northward or westward of their present boundary. It means that they are now definitely enclosed by British territory with the exception of the strip of border which adjoins Portuguese territory.’
‘And what consideration is promised the Transvaal as compensation for committing political and national suicide in this way?’ inquired Steve.
‘Oh, they have some verbal promise to the effect that they will be allowed to annex Swazilandlateron, and some faint hope is held out to them to be allowed some day to secure a seaport in Amatongaland.’
‘But if they have Swaziland and Amatongaland beyond, right up to the sea, thus securing a seaport, how can they be enclosed? That means that they would be less enclosed than they are now by British territory,’
‘Ha, ha!’ laughed Thomson. ‘Do you think they will ever get it? No, my dear fellow, I am sorry to disappoint you, but a verbal promise does not count in diplomacy. Swaziland they may get—perhaps—but a seaport—never. It was only a bait held out to the stupid Boers. The bait will be drawn in gradually, until the Boers are enticed into the trap laid for them, when even the bait will be taken from them, and they will be starved out in the trap, until, like a starved and trapped lion, they will have to submit. The joke of the whole thing is that Hofmeyr, the head of the Colonial Afrikander Bond, has been used by Rhodes to accomplish his object.’
‘Yes, you are right. But it is not a joke, it is disgraceful, shameful, to be bitten thus by your own dogs. I wonder that a man like Hofmeyr—who is supposed to be a patriotic Afrikander—cannot see what he is assisting to do. Can’t he see that he is assisting Rhodes to kill all the national vitality of the Afrikander race in South Africa? Does he not know that round the independence of the Transvaal revolves the whole hope of Afrikander national existence? Is he blind, or is he a traitor? I used to be proud of the Afrikander Bond, but now I am beginning to be ashamed of them, when they support a man like Rhodes. A man who works, firstly, for self-aggrandizement, and secondly, of course, for Imperialism.’
All the Englishmen present laughed at Steve’s earnestness and bitterness against Hofmeyr for working thus against the Transvaal. But they were accustomed to his earnest patriotism, and respected him for it.
‘Well, old boy, it may be that Hofmeyr has been squared by Rhodes; who knows? Rhodes is known for his squaring propensities. Or it may be that Hofmeyris wiser than you, and has seen that it is foolish to kick against the pricks, and that it is better to belong to the glorious British Empire, with its traditions of military power and glory, its traditions of wealth in gold and literature.’
‘It may be so,’ replied Steve; ‘but as a leading Afrikander, I would rather hope and believe that he is only blind, and that some day his eyes will be opened, and that he shall see Rhodes as he is. As to cornering the Transvaal, let them go on. Only I would warn our enemies that though we are a quiet and peace-loving people, preferring to till the land and herd our cattle to fighting, yet I say I warn Rhodes and his clique that an Afrikander at bay is fiercer and more dangerous than any tiger or lion at bay, so let them look out.’
‘But, Steve, why are you such an intense Republican? why will you not be satisfied to live under the English flag? Then you would have the right to call upon the whole British Empire to protect you. Then you would be a member of the greatest nation on earth. Then you can say, “I am a subject to a queen upon whose dominions the sun never sets.” Is not that better than to have a second-rate republic, with no traditions older than say twenty years; with hardly any literature at all; what more would you have than I have said you would have as a British subject?’
‘We would be FREE!’ was Steve’s curt reply.
‘Free! what is the good of being free in a country like this? As I have said, you can only hope to have a second-rate republic, the population of which at best is but a mongrel race.’
‘A mongrel race!’ echoed Steve. ‘Wearea mixed race, if you like, but a mixture of the best blood of Europe. In our veins run the best blood of France, Holland and Germany. We are descended from heroes; our forefathers have been heroes ever since they left their ancestral homes in Europe for religion and principle: and we are heroes to-day, struggling, as we are, fornational existence and freedom, and that against the mightiest empire on earth, as you describe it; but justice and right must prevail in the end. A mongrel race, you say? A race, I say, that has the grandest future before them of any race upon earth. Look at them; toiling sons of Nature! Do they not remind you of the rough diamonds dug out in Kimberley? hardy, strong, persevering, unpretending, but God-fearing as they are. Look at the few of them that have received the least bit of polish. Do they not shine enough to blind your eyes as you look upon them? Wait till they have all been polished and rubbed into shape, and then you will see what a race of men God has raised in this wilderness?’ Steve’s eyes were shining with enthusiasm. He seemed to see in imagination the future he was describing.
‘You have made out a very good case for your people as a nation, Steve, but what will you do with all the Englishmen in South Africa if it should become an Afrikander republic, as you seem to wish and hope? Will you drive them out of the country, or will you let them live an Uitlander race for ever here, as this Government is doing now? Will you exclude them from your future great South African nation?’
‘Decidedly not. We should be only too pleased to have them unite with us. I don’t know why they should remain Imperialistic for ever. In America they did not remain so!Therethey have united with other nationalities; why should they not do so here? Anyone who desires to become an Afrikander, be he English, Dutch, German, French, or even Russian by birth, all we should wish of them will be to have one object with us in promoting the happiness and peace of Republican South Africa.’
‘In short, they may be of whatever European nationality they like, but they must be forRepublicanism?’
‘Even so!’
‘Now, Steve, you have defeated me at all points, I am almost bound to confess. It is a glorious object towardswhich you are tending, viz., a great and freeunited South Africa. But why does not your Government, whom you defend so much, make some beginning towards a union of the races by granting the franchise to all Uitlanders in this State?’
‘Because the time has not come yet. To grant the franchise now to everyone would be simply killing our future great nation in its infancy. Grant the franchise now to all strangers (of which the great majority are English), and in a year’s time this country will be governed, either as an English republic, with capitalistic rulers, or as an English colony, neither of which are desirable, you will grant—from our standpoint. While, if we had South Africa united as a republic, there would be no obstacle in the way of granting the franchise to everybody, as the main object would be attained then, and we would be strong enough to hold our own against any party of either foreigners, Imperialists or capitalists who may seek to overthrow us again.’
‘Even there I must say you are right; I am almost inclined to become an Afrikander already. Now I am afraid you will not be able to answer my next question as well. You may think it immaterial, but I think it of great importance, that a people and a country should possess a literature of its own. What have you to say to that?’
‘Of course we cannot pretend to possess a varied and extended literature like England has. There can be no question of rivalry as yet. But we are not altogether without a literature of our own. We have our own patriotic songs, and even poems. We have a few authors, too, of whom we need not be ashamed, chief amongst these we count Mrs Cornwright Schreiner, whose thoughtful book is read all the world over. Then we have the literature of our mother countries—Holland, France and Germany. We love to read the stories which tell of the vicissitudes of our forefathers in their own countries. We even take a sort of sad delight inreading of the persecutions our ancestors had to undergo for their religious opinions; persecutions which led either to the scaffold, or to banishment. Then, as I have said, we have the literature of Holland and other countries which has been translated into our language. We read all historical, religious, secular poetry or prose; all is grist to our mill, we only seek knowledge, and as we are thoroughly cosmopolitan, we care not from whose experience or knowledge, we can learn.
‘Then we have hope of future advancement in this line. Rome was not built in a day, and you cannot expect us to be the only exception to the rule, that it takes time to perfect all things. As education advances, and we begin to feel more and more that we are a people of some account, our national abilities will develop, and we may expect to gradually advance towards perfection in all things, such as national administration, education, literature, etc. Give us time!’
‘Well, I am glad to see that you are honest enough to acknowledge your defects, as well as to extol your virtues and natural abilities. I certainly grant the material for developement is there. It was only a week ago I saw a manuscript poem, which was written by a brick-maker, a poor Boer, who, unkempt, ill-clothed and unshaved, appeared to me as if he were incapable of stringing two thoughts together, and yet, as far as I could understand the short poem, which was written in theTaal, was admirable and forcible enough, though crude and rough in expression. I fancy if such a fellow had received a fair education he would have done something.’
‘Talking about natural abilities,’ remarked Theron, ‘I saw a couple of gravestones, made by one Joubert of this district, at his farm, the other day. It was made from a design in a book of patterns supplied to him by a friend. It was simply splendid! The angels, vines and flowers, as shown in the pattern, were brought out in grand relief and were most accurately delineated. I do not think the most skilled artisan could improve on it. Then therewere a few others made from designs of his own, composed of flowers, ferns and other natural objects, all in the best of taste and design, and in perfect proportion. This man had never been taught sculpture, engraving or any of the kindred arts; it was simply his own natural taste and ability cropping out.’
‘Yes,’ remarked another one, ‘I have often wondered at the skill of some Boers, as shown in the manufacture of various articles of furniture and nick-nacks generally. They seem to do it all without being taught or shown.’
‘What surprises me more than all,’ remarked Harrison, ‘is the oratorical powers displayed by some of these uneducated Boers. I attended a sitting of the Volksraad the other day, and the speeches were simply grand. The earnestness and pointed argument, as well as the connected phrasing, was most surprising from men who had received no more education than how to read their Bible and to crudely write an ordinary letter. Then I attended a funeral a short time ago, at which a leading member of the Volksraad gave a funeral oration as well as a really good sermon; and, listening to him, I could hardly believe that I was not listening to a learned and perfectly educated minister of the Gospel.’
‘You have only to read some of the letters on public questions, such as often appear in the Dutch papers, written by them, to get some idea of the natural abilities of the unlearned Boer,’ remarked Steve, rising and leaving the room, as he was tired and wanted to go to bed.
Twelve months passed after this—uneventfully, so far as Steve’s private life was concerned. But at this time hehad an attack of malarial fever, which left him weak and pale. He decided to take a week’s holiday, and spend it at the farm of an old farmer who had often asked him to pay him a visit.
After a couple of days’ stay at this farm, he found his health and strength coming back to him. On the third day of his stay, he went for a walk, accompanied by Fritz, the son of his host, and a Hollander who had only just arrived the day before to take up the position of tutor in the family of the old farmer.
Fritz was a merry, mischievous young fellow of eighteen; and as he was considered old enough to assist his father in looking after the farm, he was not a pupil of the new teacher, and therefore considered himself at liberty to make as much fun of thegreenHollander as opportunity offered. During the walk above mentioned, Fritz had taken the opportunity to beginMijnheer van der Tromp’s education, as he termed it.
‘How is he going to educate the children whilehiseducation is being neglected?’ was his question, in answer to his father’s remonstrances.
He began the Hollander’s education by marching him through the orchard, in Steve’s company, and giving him the names of the different kinds of fruit and vegetables—all wrong, of course.
‘Do you see this tree, mijnheer? It is the sweet potato tree,’—it was a peach.
‘Oh, you don’t say so! Do sweet potatoes grow on such a tall tree? I should like to taste some of them when they are ripe.’
‘And this is a pine apple tree,’ remarked Fritz, pointing out a fine banana bush.
‘How wonderful Nature is,’ soliloquised the poor city bred Hollander. ‘Everything in Nature has its peculiar wonders, and is made by God with its own peculiar habits.’
‘And this tree, teacher, which you see is full of beautiful yellow ripe fruit, is our South African fig?’continued Fritz, now drawing the attention of the teacher to a fine specimen of the prickly pear. (Turkishfigis the Dutch name for it literally translated.)
‘What, are these figs? and are they fit for eating now?’ asked Mijnheer van der Tromp.
‘Oh, yes, teacher, and I can assure you they are delicious eating too,’ replied Fritz, turning away and walking on. Of course Fritz knew what was going to happen. Steve had walked on a few paces, as he was afraid he would be unable to contain his laughter if he listened any longer to Fritz’s fooling; so the poor Hollander was perfectly at the mercy of Fritz, as Steve did not overhear the information just given about the prickly pear.
The first intimation Steve had of what was going on was when he heard suppressed laughter behind him. He looked round, and at what he saw he thought that both his companions must have taken leave of their senses. Fritz was red in the face from laughing, as he lay on the grass, throwing his hands and feet about in the air like the four arms of a windmill. He seemed to be absolutely mad.
As to the poor Hollander, his actions were almost indescribable. He was standing, holding his arms out full length, fingers extended, while his head was held out forward, with his capacious mouth open to its full extent, and an expression of agony was depicted upon his countenance, while he was uttering such inarticulate sounds as a man could utter while holding his mouth open without moving tongue or lips. What had happened was this. The Hollander, as soon as Fritz’s back was turned, had seized one of the most tempting looking prickly pears, and had taken a hasty bite out of it. The result was that the inside of his mouth was covered with hundreds of the minute needle-pointed thorns. Only those who have felt the irritating pain of a prickly pear thorn in the mouth can understand the torture poor Van der Tromp had to endure. Steve ledhim home, where he was seated on a low stool for hours following, while the members of the family took turns to hunt the thorns out of his mouth.
But prickly pear thorns are not picked out of a man’s mouth in one day, especially after they have been planted there in such a wholesale manner, as was the case with Van der Tromp. For days after those thornswouldintrude themselves upon the attention of the teacher. Every time he would make sure that not a single thorn was left in his mouth. But suddenly, every half hour or so, while Van der Tromp was eating, singing, or speaking, an expression of agony would pass over his countenance as another of those little demon thorns would make itself felt. And then every other occupation would be suspended while that little thorn was being hunted for.
Of course, Fritz did not think, or expect, his little joke to turn out such a serious matter for the poor teacher. The most he hoped for was that the teacher would pluck the prickly pear, and thus feel the thorns. He never thought that Van der Tromp wouldbitethe fruit. When he saw the agony of Van der Tromp, he was genuinely sorry, and apologised most humbly, but I am afraid he was never forgiven.
The following day Steve and Fritz went for another walk, farther this time, but alone. Van der Tromp was still occupied in digging out prickly pear thorns.
During the night a heavy thunder storm had raged; the air was pure and fresh, so that the young men walked far out into the veld, as they enjoyed the bright face Nature had put on after the storm.
When they had walked some distance, they met a herder herding some sheep belonging to Fritz’s father. He came up to them, and showed Fritz a bar of metal two feet long and about one inch in diameter, more or less, as it was of irregular thickness.
‘See, baas, what a nice piece of brass I found. The rain of last night had washed it clean, so that I saw it shining amongst the rocks.’
Steve took it from him and examined it closely, and felt the weight of it.
‘Where did you get this, boy?’ he asked.
‘I found it sticking to two rocks, baas. Each end of it was fast on to a rock, so that it was a sort of little bridge between the two pieces of rock.’
‘Come and show me and Baas Fritz the place.’
The boy went on ahead to show the place as requested.
‘Do you think it is gold, Steve?’ asked Fritz.
‘I am sure of its being gold. There must be lots of it, too, if it can be picked up in this way,’ was the answer.
The boy stopped and pointed to some rocks which were lying in the cleft of a low hill. The cleft was a little rivulet when it rained, as the sides of the hill sloped down to it, thus causing all the water to run towards it, and so form a temporary stream.
The boy pointed to two masses of quartz forming the two banks of the cleft or ravine. He showed them the marks where he had broken off the bar of gold.
The young men examined the masses of rock or quartz closely. Steve took a large stone and knocked two small pieces off the quartz, and looked at the freshly-broken surface. It was interlaced with gold! They examined an outcrop of quartz further on, and found it to be as rich as the other. Fully twenty-five per cent. of the quartz seemed to be gold.
Fritz had whispered to Steve not to let the boy know what it was. He had to put forth great self-control to restrain his excitement.
They turned quietly back and walked home.
‘I say, Fritz, this means that you are going to be one of the richest men in the country. There is not another such mine of gold in the world as this one is going to be.’
‘Wait and hear what the old man says about it first,’ said Fritz.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Steve.
‘Wait,’ was the laconic reply.
They arrived home and found the old man superintending the planting of someshadetrees near the house. They went up to him, and showed him the bar of gold discovered by the boy.
‘See, father, what April found,’ said Fritz.
‘What is it?’
‘Gold,’ said Steve.
The old man stood looking at them for fully a minute, then asked for an explanation. He was told all that had taken place.
He did not say a word, but Steve could see that he was by no means pleased. In the evening, when the herds were all safely in the kraal, Steve, Fritz and the old farmer were sitting on the stoep smoking. In front of the stoep half-a-dozen cows and heifers were standing. The old man had ordered them to be driven out of the herd, and to await his further orders.
April the herder, and discoverer of gold, was sent for. He came.
‘April,’ said the farmer, ‘I believe your time is up at the end of the week?’
‘Yes, baas.’
‘Do you intend going home then?’
‘Yes, baas!’
‘I owe you three heifers for your time of service, do I not?’
‘Yes, baas!’
‘Well, there are six. Three in payment for your service, and three if you will leave to-morrow morning early without saying a word to anyone, and I want younever to come on my farm again. You must also promise me never to tell anybody about the copper you found on the stone to-day. Do you promise?’
The Kaffir was amazed. To receive double his salary, and to go before his time was up, with an order never to return again, was incomprehensible to him. However, he gave the promise required, and left.
Steve could hardly make out the drift of the old man. He simply stared in surprise at his host.
‘Now, Stephaans, I want you also to promise me never to tell anyone of the gold on my farm, unless I give you permission to do so.’
‘Of course, Oom Hans, if it will spoil your chance of getting a good price for the mineral rights, I will say nothing about it. But what is the good of keeping it secret? You ought to make it known as much as possible, then you will be able to get the highest offer.’
‘Stephaans, you do not seem to understand. I do not want to sell the mineral rights of my farm, nor the farm itself. I only wish to live quietly and at peace on my farm.’
‘But why so, Oom Hans? Consider the price you could get for a farm with quartz on it like this?’ said Steve, taking out a piece of the quartz he had put in his pocket in the morning. ‘You could buy a dozen other farms for the money, and have still enough left to live on to the end of your days.’
‘I do not want any more riches than I have. I have enough to live on, and enough to leave my children when the Lord should take me away. Why should I sell my farm? My father and mother lived and died here. They are buried here, and here I wish to be buried when I die. It is not good for us to have too much of the riches of the world.’
‘But, Oom Hans, God has placed the gold there to be used, and it would be sinful to leave it there, buried under ground, or the Lord might say to you when the time of reckoning comes, “I have given you so manytalents of gold to work with, and to do good with, and to win other talents with; but ye buried it under ground and used it not as I directed ye, ye bad and unfaithful servant, go forth into the outer darkness.” Consider, Oom Hans?’
The old man shook his head.
‘No, Stephaans, we do not see the matter in the same light. When I feel that the Lord wishes me to leave my farm, and let the gold be dug, I will tear from my heart the love I have for my home and my birthplace, and leave it. But I do not feel so yet. No one will lose by it; I shall be the only loser; but the loss I consider gain, so long as I can keep my home unpolluted by the drunken, the profane, the blasphemer, the canteen-keeper. These you know are always to be found where gold is being dug.’
And no amount of arguing or talking on the part of Steve could induce the conservative old farmer to change his views. He again made Steve promise not to tell of the gold, lest the Government should take the bit in its own mouth and proclaim his farm as public gold diggings.
The following day Steve’s host had decided to go to Johannesburg to arrange about the sale of some slaughter bullocks. He invited Steve to go with him and act as interpreter. Steve said he should enjoy the drive, and went.
After business was concluded, Steve and Oom Hans were seated at a table in acafé, partaking of some refreshments. On the opposite side of the table were seated two Jews, discussing some samples of quartz before them.
At last one of the Jews turned towards Oom Hans,with the usual insinuating familiar manner of the Jew and said,—
‘Mijnheer, don’t you tink dis quartz is goot? Dere ought to pe lots of gold in it?’
Oom Hans indulged in his usual quiet, good-natured laugh, and, turning to Steve, said,—
‘Let us make the hearts of these Jews ache a little. Show them a piece of the quartz you put in your pocket, but (aside) mind you don’t tell them our names or where we live?’
Steve smilingly took out a piece of quartz—it was by no means the best, and handed it to the Jews, and asked,—
‘What do you think of that?’
The Jews took the quartz, looked at it, and nearly jumped out of their boots from excitement when they saw the richness of the quartz.
They laughed, they shouted, they danced. They called for coffee, tea, lemonade, and a dish full of the nicest cake in the establishment, and placed it before the strangers, who carriedsuchsamples of quartz about them.
‘Eet, mijnheer, drink, mijnheer, ons zal betaal’—‘eat and drink master, we will pay.’
When they had quieted down, the Jews came and seated themselves near to Steve and Oom Hans, and started pumping operations.
‘Is dis quartz from your farram, mijnheer?’
‘Yes,’ was the uncompromising reply.
‘Where do you lif, mijnheer?’
‘In the Transvaal?’
‘Yes; put where? What district?’
‘Oh, in one of the districts?’ was the laughing rejoinder.
‘Near what town, mijnheer?’
‘Oh, within a thousand miles of Johannesburg?’
The Jews laughed as if this was a very good joke. They were confident of getting round this stupid old Boer.
‘Will mijnheer not have a drink—whisky, prandy, or gin, whatever you like?’
‘No, thank you. We do not drink strong drink,’ interfered Steve. They had not touched the refreshments supplied by the Jews.
‘What is mijnheer’s name?’ continued Jew No. 2.
‘Hans?’
‘Yes; put Hans what?—your family name, I mean?’
‘Oh, just Hans; that is enough for you,’ said Oom Hans, laughing. The eagerness of the Jews amused him.
‘Well, look here, Mijnheer Hans, what will you take for your farm?’
‘Nothing?’
‘What!’
‘Nothing?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t want to sell it!’
‘Not at any price? I will give you a big price for it.’
‘No; I do not want to sell at any price.’
‘Not for a hundred tousand pound? two hundred tousand pound? five hundred tousand pound? Come, if you show me a reef like that quartz on your farm, I shall give you one million pounds. Don’t say no, mijnheer—Ten hundred tousand pounds?’
‘No, I don’t want your money.’
‘You tink I have no money! Come to the bank, I will show you. You tink you get more from annuder man. I tell you one million pound very much monies. Ask the young man!’ pointing to Steve.
‘No, I don’t want your money. Come, Stephaans, let us go.’
The Jew ran towards the door and said,—
‘Don’t go yet, Mijnheer Hans. I give you what you ask; you make your own price. Or I tell you what, you keep your farm, you just tell me where it is, you show me the place that sample comes from, and I will giveyou five tousand pound—ten tousand pound,’ eagerly added the Jew, visions of a rich prospector’s mijnpacht floating before his eyes.
Oom Hans was getting tired of this, as well as annoyed at the Jew’s perseverance. He must get rid of him.
‘I will think of it, and let you know to-morrow,’ he said.
‘Where shall I see you?’
‘If I want to do business with you, I will come here at ten o’clock to-morrow,’ was the non-committal reply.
Steve and Oom Hans went to the boarding-house, where they had secured a room. They noticed that the Jews followed them, and after having seen them into the boarding-house, left again, apparently satisfied that they could lay their hands on the old Boer when they wanted him. But they counted without their host. The old man paid his bill before going to bed; and when the sun rose, he and Steve were far on their way home.
Steve was once more in Pretoria. He had been for a week back in work, when one evening, as he was walking leisurely home from business, he heard an eager exclamation of joy behind him. The next moment his arm was firmly caught hold of, and he heard a Jewish voice, not quite unfamiliar, saying,—
‘Oh, mine tarling poy, how I have looked for you; oh, praise pe to father Abraham, I have found you.’
Steve’s hand was snatched up eagerly and joyfully shaken. It was one of the Jews they had met in Johannesburg.
‘Oh, how I have looked for you, mine frint. I havemade two horses tie, so I have rode them, to find you, and your honest old frint. Come, come, let us go into this bar and have a bottle of fiz.’
‘No, thank you, I do not take wine or spirits, and I have no time now to talk to you,’ replied Steve, annoyed at the scene the Jew was creating in the street, causing the passing people to stand and stare at the vehement joy of the Jew.
‘But, my frint, I must speak to you, I can’t let you go now, after looking so long for you; I tell you I have been everywhere trying to find you, from the day I saw you in Johannesburg. Oh, no, I will not let you go; you must speak to me, I have much to tell you.’
Steve saw it was no use trying to get rid of the Jew in this way.
‘Come to my room, and do not talk so loud in the street,’ said he, walking rapidly on, the Jew sticking to him like a leech.
‘Now, quick, what do you want from me?’ said Steve, as he handed the Jew a seat in his room.
‘Oh, come, you know I want to puy de gold farm of your friend—what’s his name?’ said the Jew, thinking to catch Steve off his guard.
‘Never mind his name now. As regards buying his farm, he has already declined doing business with you. Why do you pester me now about a thing that is settled?’
‘Oh, he will sell to me, I shall give lots of money, only tell me where I can find him, that is all I ask of you?’
‘I certainly shall not tell you where to find him, so you might as well go home.’
‘Look here, young man, you are not rich, I will make you rich if you will only bring me to the farm, so that I can speak to him myself. I will give you one tousand pounds for only telling me the man’s name and address.’
The Jew mostly spoke with a fairly good accent, but whenever he got excited, he dropped into his Jewish accent.
‘I shallnotgive you his name and address, not for a thousand pounds or more,’ was Steve’s reply. The Jew looked surprised, but he thought Steve must bestickingout for a better offer.
‘I shall give you two thousand pounds, only for a name and address,’ he bid again.
Steve shook his head.
‘Young man, don’t tread your fortune under feet; you will never get such an opportunity again; I shall make you a good final offer now. Give me the name and address, tell me where you got that sample of quartz from, and I shall give youfive thousand pound, and if I secure it, I shall give youten thousand pound, now is your chance, take it.’
Steve smiled at the persistence of the Jew. He sat thinking for a minute or two, while the Jew sat watching him eagerly. At last he said,—
‘I will tell you what I will do. I shall go out to-morrow and see the gentleman. I will do my best with him. If I can persuade him to see you, I will tell you so the day after to-morrow; if you can succeed to buy the farm from him, I will accept your offer, if not, then I do not want your money. Good night.’
The Jew saw that he would get nothing more from Steve, but he left perfectly satisfied apparently.
Steve obtained leave of absence for the following day that same evening. The following morning he left early on horseback.
Several times while riding on he fancied he heard hoof-strokes behind him, but the country was undulating, and covered with patches of trees, so that he could see a very little of the road behind him; besides, he did not attach much importance to the fact.
When he arrived at the farm of Oom Hans, he immediately told him all the Jew had said and done. Oom Hans was annoyed that the Jew should have discovered Steve, and preached a little sermon to himself for having indulged in what he considered at the time a little harmlesspleasantry. But he could not help laughing that the Jew should have been hunting for him so long and so earnestly.
‘Well, Steve, if you think it hard on you that your promise to me prevents you from accepting the Jew’s offer of five thousand pounds for my name and address, I will release you from your promise; tell him my name and address, but I warn you I will make it hot for him should he come here.’
‘Oom Hans, I hope you do not think so badly of me as to think I would break my promise to you for five thousand pounds. No, I will never tell the Jew unless you change your mind as to the selling of the farm; besides, it would be very dishonest to take the Jew’s money, if I know that he will get nothing for it.’
At this moment a knock was heard at the door.
Oom Hans looked out of the window to see who it was. He turned to Steve, with anger on his face, and said,—
‘So, then, you come to me like a hypocrite, and pretend that you come to ask my permission to give the Jew my address, while all the time you had the Jew waiting for you outside.’
‘What do you mean, Oom Hans?’
‘Come and look for yourself.’
Steve looked, and there the Jew was standing on the stoep, waiting for an answer to his knock. Steve remembered the hoof-strokes he had heard behind him. He saw that the Jew had been watching and following him.
‘Oom Hans, I give you my word of honour that what I told you was the truth, and that I know nothing of the Jew’s being here, except that I think the knave has been following me without my knowledge.’
Steve’s voice and manner conveyed the truth of what he was saying to Oom Hans. He was believed. This made the old man all the angrier with the Jew.
He went to the door, opened it, and looked at theJew. The Jew flew towards him with open arms, and an angelic smile of affection on his face.
‘Oh, mine frint, how I have wished for you,’ and the Jew went on in a flow of affectionate terms.
Oom Hans coldly waved him off, and said, ‘Wait a moment.’ He went in again, closing the door after him. He went to a shelf, took down a rusty old elephant gun, as large as a young cannon. He poured about a quarter of loose gunpowder down the capacious barrel, rammed down half a newspaper by way of a plug, and went out again, putting on as severe a face as he could.
Steve came out now and took Oom Hans by the arm, saying,—
‘For God’s sake, Oom, don’t shoot the man!’
‘Be quiet, you fool!’ roared Oom Hans, and turning round, he winked at Steve, giving him a momentary smile to reassure him. Steve saw that it was only going to be a farce, and not a tragedy, as he at first feared.
Oom Hans now turned to the trembling Jew, who stood quaking with clasped hands, afraid to run, and afraid to stay.
‘My God, these Boers are terrible when angry,’ he muttered.
‘What do you say?’ roared Oom Hans.
‘I say, sir, that the Boers are the best people in the world, and that the English are dogs.’
‘Say that again, and I shall send a bullet through you in a moment. The English, sir, are our friends, while they live at peace with us, so be careful what you say.’
‘The English are a good people, sir. Oh, yes, they will always be the best friends of the Boers.’
‘Silence, you dog! You say that because you are afraid of my gun. Now, look here, is that your horse there?’
‘Yes, sir, I will make you a present of him, if you want him.’
‘Silence! I will count ten to give you time to get on your horse, and ten to get out of gunshot, after that I fire.’
‘Oh, but, sir, I come to do pisness; I bring you lots of monies. Just listen one word.’
‘One!’
‘One word only, sir,’ said the Jew, tears running down his eyes.
‘Two!’
The Jew began to retreat, still praying for an interview.
‘Three!’
The Jew was now running.
‘Ten!’ he heard shouted at him, as he mounted his horse. He waited no more after that, he used spur and whip to urge his horse forward. He thought that he had gone but a short distance, when he heard a report like the report of a cannon behind him.
‘Oh, father Abraham, receive my soul,’ he prayed, ‘for I must be hit; a Boer never misses.’
He was surprised to feel no pain or wound.
‘Now, I must race, before he can load again,’ he muttered, applying spur and whip with fresh energy, as he lay forward on the neck of the horse.
When Steve and Oom Hans recovered from their fit of laughter, into which they had fallen at the sight of the Jew’s fear of a charge of loose gunpowder, they saw the Jew disappearing on a rise about a mile away, his arm still rising and falling as he lashed his horse furiously. The Jew must have done the distance from the farm to Pretoria in record time that day, as he was seen by several people on the road, riding his horse at full speed, looking back every minute to see if he was pursued.
He was never seen on that farm again.
We shall pass on now to more stirring times in the life of Steve, who has grown into a strong young man of twenty-seven years of age now. He has always borne in mind the dying words of his father, and has never neglected his weekly letter to his mother and sisters, or his monthly contribution towards their house-keeping at home. He had kept that part of his promise to his father to the best of his ability. As to the patriotic promise his father had obtained from him, that was hardly ever out of his thoughts. Walking in the quiet suburban walks in which he delighted, the thought of his country and his race was ever with him. If he could not sleep at night, the same thoughts occupied his mind. And many a plan did he think out—only to reject—as to how his people could be raised up to a higher level as a nation, or how they were to be united in all the states and colonies, as a free and united people.
He had watched the political events in South Africa closely. He saw that the Republics were slowly being driven into a corner by the great Imperialistic amalgamator.
He fancied that he could see how Rhodes was using the Afrikander Bond of the Cape Colony to manufacture a rope, which was intended to be used eventually to strangle their own hopes of national existence.
There was only one doubt in his mind. Was Rhodes working for Imperialism on behalf of the British Empire? or was he so flattered by being called theSouth African Napoleon, that he wanted to really earn that name, and to build up a new empire, with himself as emperor? However, whichever of the two was intended by Rhodes, both must be resisted to the death. We neither desire to be a united British colony, nor a united South AfricanEmpire. We wish to be a united South African Republic. Such were Steve’s thoughts on the matter. But everything seemed to be tending towards a crisis. He felt that the time was not far distant when it would be decided whether a great new nation would be formed in South Africa by the fusion of the races, or whether South Africa would be put down, and kept down as a vassal state, for, perhaps, another decade, or maybe two decades. He never doubted that in the end South Africa would fulfil its destiny, and become a great Free country.
Steve had watched with pain how the Republics were robbed of all just claims for northern extension, through delusive promises of eastern extension towards the sea-coast. He had seen the formation of the British South African Chartered Company; only another name, he said, for an anti-Boer company.
He had seen how this company had dispossessed Afrikander holders of concessions in Mashonaland. How this company had robbed and deprived poor Lobengula of country and life on the shallow pretence of Matabele aggression in Mashonaland. Ah, if aBoerrepublic had done what the Chartered Company did in Matabeleland, how they would have been reviled, how they would have been abused. New names would have been invented to call the Boers by, as the English language had already been exhausted on them when they defended their own country. How the Boers were called murderers, slaveholders, and God knows what more, when they subdued two rebellious chiefs in Zoutpansberg in the interest of law and order. After having treated those two chiefs with the greatest consideration and kindness, both before and after their subjection, the Boer haters invented lies and deeds of cruelty never perpetrated in order to blacken the name of Boer before the world. But Rhodes and his followers were called ‘Napoleons,’ ‘heroes,’ and all sorts of high-sounding names, for doing what no Christianman in the world ought to have countenanced—shooting down naked human beings, armed partly with comparatively harmless assegais, or in their hands harmless rifles, in hundreds and thousands, with Satanic inventions of machine guns. Ah, God! how long wilt thou permit the strong to murder the weak? All those hundreds and thousands of poor innocent human beings were murdered or driven starving from their homes, for the sole reason to make a dividendless company pay dividends—Civilisation? The sooner such civilisation is swept from off the earth the better it would be for humanity in general. It must be remembered that these Matabeles were not rebels, but were fighting in defence of their own country, which up to then had been free and independent.
Steve saw how the Chartered Company was not yet satisfied. They must have Khama’s land too. Poor Khama went to England to ask the Great White Queen for protection, for he had had a terrible object lesson in Lobengula, and knew what his fate would be. Khama had a partial success. He was at least safeguarded against total extinction by the Chartered Company.
The attention of the Chartered Company was now given to the rich and free republic—the Transvaal—with whom England held treaties of peace and amnesty. But what does that matter to a Chartered Company, or to a Rhodes, a Jameson?—we shall see!
Steve saw how all the injustice done to the Afrikander race by England at Slachtersnek, in Natal, at Boomplaats, Kimberley, and during all the existence of the Transvaal as a Dutch Afrikander State, was finally capped by the English in annexing Amatongaland.
Where does the injustice come in?
We have already seen how, through Mr Hofmeyr and others, the Transvaal was promised the incorporation of Swaziland with the Transvaal, and a passage to the sea through Amatongaland, on condition that the Transvaal gave up all rights towards northern expansion.
Transvaal subjects had obtained concessions in Mashonalandpreviously to those obtained by the agents of Rhodes. The Transvaal kept its promise. Transvaal subjects were forced, by a proclamation issued by the President, to stop a trek towards Manacaland to take possession of country in that territory, ceded to them by its legal owners; and Rhodes and company were left in undisturbed possession. How was the agreement fulfilled by the other side? Only after long, patient and persevering waiting the Transvaal was at last reluctantly allowed to incorporate Swaziland in a half-hearted sort of way. But—
The Transvaal had obtained the cession of Amatongaland from its legal owners—the chiefs of the tribes living there. When the Transvaal asked England to ratify the annexation of Amatongaland, according to the agreement made with said chiefs, England refused, on the plea that, if it should be decided later on that Swaziland should fall to British rule, Swaziland would be inaccessible to England, as it is almost surrounded by Transvaal territory, and that Amatongaland was the only passage open to Swaziland for England in such a case. However, the Transvaal was given to understand that its claim waslegitimate; and that, in case Swaziland was ceded to it, there would be no difficulty raised to its expansion towards the seaviaAmatongaland.
When Swaziland was given up to the Transvaal, because England could hardly do otherwise, as Swaziland belonged to the Transvaal by all the rules of nations—Swaziland really belonged to the Transvaal, was part and parcel of its territories, lying as it does within its borders, having been kept out of it as a protection (?) for the natives by treaty with England. Well, what did England do when the Transvaal at last had possession of Swaziland? Did she say to the South African Republic, ‘Now you have Swaziland, you might as well realise yourlegitimatedesires for a seaport; you had better have Amatongaland too, as it means so much to you, and is really worthless to us.’Did she say that?One morning the Government of the South African Republic awoke to find that Amatongaland had been annexed by England on the quiet.
The Transvaal had received no previous notice from England of her unjust intentions in Amatongaland, no—such a deed could hardly bear the light of day to fall upon it before it was an accomplished fact; once accomplished, possession is nine points of the law.
South Africa was shocked at such a deed. The Transvaal protested. The Orange Free State protested. Even Natal and the Cape Colonial Government were ashamed of the deed, and disowned all knowledge of it.
Steve had taken note of all this and more.
He had seen how England had unwarrantably interfered in a question which did not concern her in the least. The Transvaal had closed certain drifts between itself and the Orange Free State—mind you not between the Transvaal and British territory—it was a matter of policy to meet the machinations of the Cape Colonial Government under Rhodes, who were trying to strangle the railways of the Transvaal by ox-waggon competition. England interfered, and told the Transvaal that its Government had no right to close those drifts—why? Because England says so, of course! The Transvaal—once more to show its desire for peace—opened those drifts.
We have only touched some of the main points South African history for the last few years, so that we may be understood as the story proceeds.
There was one thing which Steve had long noticed, viz., that there could be no doubt of the existence of an organisation formed for the purpose ofkillingthe Transvaal as a republic.
This organisation seemed to have taken for a motto,—
‘If you want to kill a dog, give him a bad name, and nobody will object to your killing him.’
To achieve this dirty work, newspapers were started in Pretoria, Johannesburg, and all over South Africa. Only one line of conduct seemed to have been laid down for the editors of these newspapers, viz.,—Paint the Government of the South African Republic and Boers generally with the blackest verbal paint you can invent; the editor who can invent the most lies and write the dirtiest libels on the Transvaal and on Boers that editor shall receive the greatest reward.
This programme was well followed.
The amalgamator of mines and countries had chosen his men well.
These editors must be in the possession of dictionaries unknown to the rest of the world. Dictionaries with an alphabetical list of all the bad names ever invented, with the addition of some specially invented for the occasion. The writers for the papers belonging to the organisation forpainting Boers blackseemed to have a special mode of writing their articles. A string of bad names is selected, and manufactured into some tale of Boer cruelty, duplicity, dishonesty, or something of the sort.
This story would be published and taken up by the various papers belonging to the organisation, and any other paper in foreign lands which might be misinformed enough to believe such stories. How England and therest of the world would be shocked with these tales. How well-meaning people in distant England would cry shame at these savage (?), cruel (?), and dishonest (?) Boers. Ah! this cowardly, strike-a-man-behind-his-back, blacken-a-dog’s-name-and-then-kill-him, Boer-hating, anti-freedom, anti-republican organisation knew well that England can yet boast of millions of honest, fair-minded and well-meaning people, who would not allow a free, peace-loving and God-fearing people to be trampled under foot by a speculating, company-mongering, Matabele-exterminating organisation. For this reason, the Boer must first be blackened, his name must be made to stink in the nostrils of the English and European public. It must be made to appear a great deed of chivalry to exterminate thesewomen-killing(?), slave-dealing (?). Uitlander-oppressing (?) Boers.
But the sequel has shown that there is a just Heaven above, who watches over countries, empires, republics and peoples as well as over individuals. The machinations of these plotters were made to fall back upon their own heads by a just God. They were made to fall into their own pits, dug for others. Read on and see.
Although evidently directed from Cape Town, the operations of the organisation were centred in Johannesburg, as being the place where the materials to be used for their purposes—the Uitlanders—were most plentiful, and, also being in the heart of the Boer Republic, they could strike more to the purpose.
Every pretext was made use of to find fault with Boers and Boer government. Let them come across a God-fearing, religious Boer, and he is described as a hypocritical, sanctimonious, double-faced knave. If, on the contrary, a Boer is met who moves with the surrounding world, speculates, goes to entertainments, or takes a drink at a bar, he again is called a drunken, cheating, parasitical, half-civilised scoundrel.
Again, should the Government take righteous umbrage at haughty and unjust demands from their particularparty, and refuse them, the Government is called a tyrannical, autocratic and oppressive government. Should the Government again consider a request fair and just, or tenable in any way, and grant it, then they are jeered at, now they are beginning to be afraid and are obliged to give way. Or, again, it was granted through favouritism, or through bribery. Such was the one-sided criticism indulged in.
Familiarity brings contempt. The Government got to be so accustomed to this one-sided abuse, that they really treated it with the contempt it deserved. This gave courage to the black libellers.
Constant droppings will wear away a stone. The constant hacking and pegging away at the Government began to take effect on the Uitlander public. They began to believe it, saying, ‘Where there is smoke there must surely be fire?’ At least such was the effect on the least-informed portion of the Uitlander population.
The first visible and material victory obtained by the organisation was theFLAG INCIDENT.
The President of the South African Republic is obliged by law to visit outlying districts as much as possible, in rotation, to ascertain the views, grievances and wants of the public.
The turn of Johannesburg came to receive such a visit. The President went there in order to give the public an opportunity to state to him personally what they wanted in the way of improvements generally. If they had any wants or grievances to be redressed,now was their time to say so, and obtain their desires as far as was just and fair. Was this done?
No! When the President mounted the public platform, he was received with groans and hootings. Paid roughs caused a disturbance, which was taken up by the lower element amongst the crowd, and the President had to escape as best he could from the dastardly roughs, who would not have scrupled to lay their hands upon his person. The sacred, beloved flag of the Republic was torn down and rent to shreds.
This was the way Johannesburg sought redress for their grievances.
The loyal public were righteously enraged, and had it not been for the conciliatory speeches of the President later on, the Burghers would not have rested until due revenge had been taken for the dishonour done the chief of their Republic and their flag.
But the Government refused to punish the scoundrels; they hoped to win the Uitlanders over by gentleness and forbearance.
The next grand opportunity for the organisation to revile the Government and the people came with the Malaboch war.
A petty chief rebelled, causing general disorder in the Zoutpansberg district, and setting a bad example to the thousands and tens of thousands of natives living in the district. Malaboch had to be subdued and made to obey the laws of the land or the whole native population would soon have been in rebellion. This was done.
Steve went as a volunteer on the expedition (he having privately got the field cornet to commandeer him). He saw with surprise with what consideration the rebels were treated. They were regarded as a civilised nation; and repeated offers of mercy were made them if they would submit. An invitation was sent them to send out their women and children for safety, which was done, thereby prolonging the siege of the native stronghold, as the provisions held out so much longer.
After the submission of the tribe, they were treated with all kindness. They were conducted to Pretoria and well provided for.
To prevent a repetition of the rebellion, and of their retaking possession of their former almost inaccessible stronghold, the native tribe was broken up (as per precedent established by the English administration in former years), and homes given them elsewhere.
The result of all this was that the Government was abused more than ever before. It was affirmed that the grossest cruelties had been perpetrated on the poor, innocent natives; the Boers made slaves of the natives, etc., etc.
The most ridiculous statement of all was that the Boers ravished the native women! Anybody knowing a Boer would know how impossible this is! A Boer shrinks from touching the hands of the dirty, oily, reeking native; how much more would he shrink fromembracinga native woman!
As we have said, Steve had been to the Malaboch war himself. He had seen for himself the treatment accorded the natives, and the lying statements published all over the world made him shiver with disgust and anger.
The following year, with the Magoeba campaign, the same thing was repeated all over. The causes were the same, the effects were the same. Sir E. Ashmead Bartlette and others of his stamp (either deceiving, or being deceived by others here) made ridiculous and untruthful statements in the House of Commons, in public speeches, or in the daily papers. All this was the result of the wire-pulling, worked by the secret organisation for ‘painting Boers black.’
Finally, another grand opportunity came for a general carnival of abuse and lies against the Government of the country—the festivities in connection with the opening of the Delagoa Railway.
Not that we mean to state that these were the onlytimes when the Government was abused and libelled; daily opportunities were found to distort facts; an anthill was made into a mountain; a good deed into one of the blackest imaginable. And when no facts could be found to distort, something was invented by some fiendish imagination. But the festivities offered a grand opportunity for exaggerations and distortions.
The Government was made to spend thousands of pounds sterling on favourites, contracts for decorations were given to favourite Hollanders, money was wasted, the Volksraad vote was greatly exceeded, and goodness knows what besides. It is too sickening to enter into all the petty lying faults that were found.
In this way the Government and people of the country had daily to tamely and quietly hear themselves belittled and besmeared with the lying libels of their foes; it was all patiently and quietly borne; they wished for peace, and were always conciliating. This was taken by the opposition as signifying fear and conscious weakness.
Matters went on in this way until December 1895 was reached. Steve was watching the approaching clouds. He could hear the distant thunder. He could see that a storm was coming, gathering force as it approached. A crisis was at hand.
It was coming sooner than he could have wished. He knew it was coming, but he would have liked it to have come a few years later, when the Afrikander race, at the rate they were strengthening now, would be considerably stronger and more able to cope with their opponents. But let it come. We shall do our best to conquer, and if it is God’s will that we should come out victorious, all praise be to Him. And if it be His will,We shallbe victorious! If it be His will that we should be conquered, His will be done; we can but die.
The secret organisation had lately taken more visible and definite form. First, a National Union was formed by a few in the secret. The innocent Uitlander public were led by the nose. When a meeting was convened bythe self-elected leaders of the so-called Union, the public were only too glad to attend a meeting where some excitement was promised them. They went to hear the inspired spoutings of their self-elected leaders, and cheered where they were expected to do so, or listened indifferently to eloquent advocates, speculators, etc. Many of them were surprised to be told that they really had any grievances. They had always thought they were better off in this country than they had been in their own land; here they earned good wages, paid little or no taxes, and were left alone and in peace; while in their own countries, they earned very little, of which little they had to pay a large percentage in taxes and rates of one kind or another.
But these learned men say we have grievances; they ought to know! And if we really have any wrongs to be redressed, the sooner it is done the better; so hurrah for these philanthropic (?) gentlemen who are going to redress our wrongs. They say we ought to have the franchise, so the franchise we will have, and so on.
It went uphill, it is true; the agents of the organisation found great difficulty to get the public mind wound up to the right pitch, and when they did succeed for an hour or so to get an enthusiastic audience together, it only lasted for that brief hour.