Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Twelve.A Kaffir hunt—A battue—Fire-making—A lunch al fresco—Troublesome invaders—Flight of locusts—Crows outwitted—Alligator shot—A lion chase—Strength of the lion—A slight mistake—Snuff-manufacturing—A proposal of marriage—Kaffir kindliness.One morning, Inkau told me that some large buck were in plenty not far from his kraal, and he thought that, with my help, he and his people might be able to have some very good sport. Being most anxious to witness a grand battue amongst the Kaffirs, I urged him to get all the men together who felt disposed for the expedition; and about a hundred assembled, all armed with either spears or knob-kerries.I determined to be an observer of the proceedings rather than an actor, and not to shoot at anything unless I saw it must otherwise escape, and, by thus leaving the Kaffirs entirely alone, to watch their particular devices.The country was open, and of that park-like, description so common in Africa; the covers being about ten acres in extent. These were, at a given signal, surrounded by men, whose assagies or kerries were held in readiness for throwing. Two or three Kaffirs, who were told off as beaters, would then go inside and beat the bushes and grass.Some of these woods had been drawn blanks, when, on entering a thick patch of reeds and bush, a “Tally” was given by a beater, which was responded to by a grand flourish of assagies from the ring of men without. A couple of the wild bush-pigs broke out of the cover, and had scarcely shown themselves for a second when an avalanche of spears and sticks came down upon them. The swine immediately presented the appearance of ruffled porcupines, as the assagies were sticking in numbers into their hides, and pointing in all directions. Still they made a bold rush for their lives: it was of no use, however; for twenty stabbing-spears were driven deep into them, and piggy was soon made pork. The savages seemed to take great delight in the single act of drawing blood, several spears being thrust into the pigs long after they had ceased to move. I thought it a piece of wonderful forbearance when I found that four men received directions to take the pork home. I fully expected to see the pigs eaten then and there; delays in these things the Kaffirs seem to consider as dangerous; and having an appetite always in readiness, they find but little difficulty in accommodating themselves to time and place.Our next find was a couple of black bush-buck, male and female. They broke out of the cover gallantly, and the ram, lowering his horns, charged straight at the line of Kaffirs. A shower of missiles which were hurled at him failed in checking his career, and he dashed forward, leaving his partner on the ground. The Kaffirs quickly cleared the road, and allowed him to rush through, giving a grand volley of assagies as he passed; half-a-dozen remained in him, and his fate was then decided. He stopped once or twice, and tried with his mouth to pull out an assagy that was stacking in his shoulder, but could not manage it. The Kaffirs, by keeping wide on each side, had run on ahead, and were now gradually inclosing the gallant stag again, delivering their assagies as they approached him. The buck seemed undecided where to charge; he was once or twice driven back by the yells of the Kaffirs and the rattling and shaking of their oxhide shields; he soon fell under the blows and stabs that were freely given to him.The idea of dining off these two bucks was too great a temptation for my black companions to resist; they were now bent on eating, and I saw preparations made for lighting a fire, for which neither lucifer nor flint-and-steel were used.Two dry sticks, one being of hard and the other of soft wood, were the materials used. The soft stick was laid on the ground, and held firmly down by one Kaffir, whilst another employed himself in scooping out a little hole in the centre of it with the point of his assagy; into this little hollow the end of the hard wood was placed and held vertically. These two men sat face to face, one taking the vertical stick between the palms of his hands, and making it twist about very quickly, while the other Kaffir held the lower stick firmly in its place; the friction caused by the end of one piece of wood revolving on the other soon made the two pieces smoke. When the Kaffir who twisted became tired, the respective duties were exchanged. These operations having continued about a couple of minutes, sparks began to appear, and, when they became numerous, were gathered into some dry grass, which was then swung round at arm’s length until a blaze was established; and a roaring fire was gladdening the hearts of the Kaffirs with the anticipation of a glorious feast in about ten minutes from the time that the operation was first commenced.I joined the party as usual on these occasions, and did great credit to an Englishman’s eating powers. I was much amused at the cool manner in which Inkau treated some of the men present, who seemed to be considered amongst the lower class of Kaffirs. He cut up the bucks with his own hands, thereby securing the best and most choice bits for himself and me; while every now and then he would look round the circle of black and expecting faces, and chuck the common pieces, or tough bits, to these poor wretches, who snatched them up, and after half-cooking them, bolted piece after piece, like hungry curs.These two bucks, although each weighed about 120 pounds, were only sufficient for a light luncheon for the Kaffirs; although to me the men seemed to be crammed like boa-constrictors. They showed a great disinclination to move after their repast, although they complained that they were stilllambile(hungry). An immense quantity of snuff was consumed, the tears coursing each other down the cheeks of many of the party, from the strength and rapidity of the doses. Seeing so great a disinclination on the part of the Kaffirs to use any exertion now that they were full of meat, I went by myself to have a look for a sea-cow, as the colonists call the hippopotamus, the Kaffir name for which is “imvubu.” I was told that they were to be found in the Imvoti river, and they were not very frequently disturbed in this part. The Kaffirs near the river frequently suffered very much from the depredations of this game, corn-gardens being sometimes nearly destroyed and trodden down by the sea-cow during one night. Other animals also persecuted these unfortunate people. A herd of elephants might quietly walk through their fences some night, with the same ease as though the barricades were cobwebs, crush to the ground the nearly ripe crop, and leave the whole Kaffir village with but a poor chance of obtaining a winter supply of corn. These Kaffirs were rarely possessed of a gun, and did not like to venture too near these savage intruders; and the shouting and beating of shields did not always produce the desired effect on the elephants. Sometimes a venturesome Kaffir would get himself smashed by attempting to drive away a savage troop, and this would act as a warning to other Kaffirs; and they therefore frequently preferred being pillaged to being squashed. Sometimes a party of bucks will get the habit of sneaking into the corn of a night, when it is green and young, and will enjoy a good feed at the expense of the kraal’s crop of mealeas.The worst visitation, however, is a flight of locusts; and no idea can be formed of the destruction which these creatures will accomplish in even a couple of hours. I saw several heavy flights during my residence at Natal, the heaviest of which came upon the country at the back of the Berea, and extended about four miles inland. I can only compare its appearance to that of a heavy fall of snow, where each flake is represented by a locust. My horse would scarcely face them, and I was often nearly blinded by a great brute coming into my eye with a flop. I did not practise the same refined cruelty on this delinquent that a gentleman of South-African reputation told me he had one day done when a locust flew into his eye. Although blinded momentarily in one eye, he still kept the other on the rascal, who sought escape by diving amongst the crowd on the ground. After dismounting and capturing it, he passed a large pin through its body, and placed it in his waistcoat-pocket. Whenever the damaged eye smarted, he pulled the locust out of his pocket, and passed the pin through it in a fresh place: so hard-lived was this poor wretch, that I was assured the eye became quite well before the locust died.Birds also frequently annoy the Kaffir gardens; and these people’s power of defence against them is so limited, that it is absurd to see the importance they will sometimes place upon their destruction.I once won the heart of an old Kaffir and all his wives, by lulling two birds that had persecuted him for a considerable time.He came from a great distance to request my aid, and I rode out with him and shot two crows that had made a regular joke of him for several weeks. These two birds had established their quarters near his kraal, and were going to build a nest in a large tree. The Kaffir would soon have destroyed their eggs, but in the mean time the birds took every opportunity of stealing any mealeas that might be put out to dry, or bits of meat that might be left in the sun, and were for a moment unwatched; his gardens, also, were examined occasionally for seed. When the old Kaffir rushed out at the birds with his knob-kerries, they would fly away quickly, giving an ironical sort of “caw,” and settling high up in the tree, look down upon him and continue their jokes. I witnessed this proceeding on first arriving at the kraal, and laughed immoderately at the old women’s expressions, as they shook their fists with rage at the birds, and told me the crows were so cunning, that they would not walk into a trap, and that they always served the man in the same manner in which I had seen them behave. I walked quietly down to the tree on which the birds were perched, they little suspecting the new dodge that was going to be practised on them: they gave some very jocular caws as I came near them, and eyed me with a sort of supercilious bend of the head. The excitement of all the Kaffirs was intense, as they looked on from a distance to witness the effect of my attack.I walked round the tree until both birds were nearly in a line, they meanwhile watching all my proceedings most carefully, and I have no doubt flattering themselves that they were not going to be humbugged by me. Suddenly a charge of shot rattled through the branches, and down the crows both dropped, fluttering, to the ground.A yell of delight from the expecting Kaffirs was the result of the success, as they rushed down towards their formerly triumphant, but now humbled enemies. Half a dozen hands eagerly seized on each bird, and in a few seconds their bodies were torn into the smallest pieces and scattered to the winds, whilst a shower of thanks and great praise fell to my share.I walked quietly up the banks of the Imvoti for nearly three miles, but saw no signs of Hippo himself, although the spoor was very plentiful. The day was very hot, and, seeking a shady tree, whose branches overhung the stream, I sought shelter from the sun’s rays and rest for my legs. I was soon interested in watching a colony of the pretty little yellow orioles, which were building their nests in the trees near the river. They had selected those branches that were pliant and overhung the stream, a little additional weight on which would have lowered them into the water; they were thus secure from the depredations of birds-nesting monkeys, whose egg-hunting attempts might have resulted in a ducking. These birds seemed to be excellent weavers, and knit the grass in the most ingenious way. Their nests were made in the shape of a glass retort, the necks pointing downwards.Upon casting my eyes on the water below the tree near which I was sitting, I saw a small black snout just above the water: it was perfectly still, not a ripple showing that it possessed life. Watching it attentively for a few moments, I saw it begin slowly to rise, and then recognised the head of an alligator: aiming between the eyes, I lodged a bullet there, which struck with a crash. The alligator sank instantly, but I could see that the water was agitated, as though the monster were having a tussle for his life among the mud and reeds below the surface. I kept a sharp look-out at different shallow parts near the pool, but could not see him rise anywhere. After waiting for some time, I returned to Inkau’s kraal, which I reached just before dark. A party went the next day on my trail, and examined the river, and found the scaly monster floating and quite dead in the pool where I had left him.On the following morning, a Kaffir came to Inkau in breathless haste to say that the evening before one of his cows had been killed, as it was returning home, by a lion, that had paid no attention to the shouting of the boy who attended the cattle, but had carried her away right before his eyes. Inkau was the great Nimrod of these parts, and at once agreed to go in search of the lion. He went into his kraal and brought out a very large necklace of charmed medicine, which he fastened round his neck, and with powder-horn, belt, and musket, and a very large snuff-gourd, he announced himself ready to depart. I thought my horses might be safer where they were, than if I took one to ride to the kraal of the strange Kaffir, who was named Maqueto. I therefore directed my own Kaffirs to look after them, and to watch them from place to place as they grazed.A walk of nearly twelve miles up the river brought us to the scene of the lion’s depredation on the previous night. All the women and children kept close in their kraals, and shouted to us, “Hambani gathle,” (Go on well); while some men, who did not seem at all inclined to leave the protection of their palisades, complimented us as we passed, and said, “Inkosi wena,” (You are chiefs). Inkau did not make a boast of his courage, although he said, “Abantu saba naye,” (The people are afraid of him, i.e. the lion). Inkau looked at the print of the lion’s foot, and pronounced him very big; he then followed quietly on, while Maqueto was now for making his adieu; but Inkau seemed indignant, and asked him why he left us. Maqueto said he had no gun. Inkau pointed to his assagies, which, however, Maqueto explained, were as nothing for attacking a lion. The controversy was getting warm, when I interfered, and said that we should not want Maqueto’s company, but should be better without it.We then went on with the spoor, which took us over some freshly-burned ground, and down towards a deep kloof, with high square rocks sticking up round the edges. We found that the lion had scarcely allowed the cow’s body to drag on the ground, but had apparently carried it along quite easily, and as though of no weight. The Zulu breed of cattle are smaller than the English, the cows not being even so large as an Alderney; still it was a good weight to jog along with in his mouth. We went down the kloof with great care, listening after each dozen steps; but there was not a sound to be heard, no crunching of cow’s bones, or other indication of the lion’s presence. We soon came to the remains of the cow, very little, however, being left; for a lion had dined first, wolves and jackals afterwards, and vultures had then cleared up the scraps. I proposed to Inkau that we should lie in wait for the cow-slayer’s return, and, if necessary, sleep on the ground; but to this he seemed to have a great objection, as, like most Kaffirs, he disliked to work all night if he could avoid it. We cautiously walked through the long grass, and examined the kloof to the extreme end: as we came back, and got near the remains of the carcass, we threw some stones into a bush that we had not passed near. Just as we did so, something jumped out of the bush, and rushed through the long grass. I could only see a brown back occasionally showing over the long Tambokie grass, but fired where the movement was. Inkau instantly bolted like a shot, while I followed him with equal rapidity, and we stopped behind a tree at about sixty yards from where I had fired. I loaded, and was then all ready for any creature that might charge.I asked Inkau at what animal I had fired. He said, “Don’t you know?” I told him that I was not certain, but fancied it might be the lion. He acknowledged that he saw so little of the animal that he really could not say: thus we had fired at a something, but neither of us, although by no means novices, could tell what this was.We were most particular in our approach to the spot, and threw several stones in advance, but saw nothing until we came right on the body of a hyaena lying dead. The shot had been a very lucky one, for, aiming well forward at the moving grass, I had struck the hyaena with the bullet under the ear, and it had passed through the skull, dropping him dead in his track. We looked round the top of the kloof for spoor by which to trace the lion; none was to be found, and we had to return without even the satisfaction of a shot.I won an old lady’s heart by a present of tobacco on my return to Inkau’s kraal. She had been frequently looking at me very attentively, and paid me some neat compliments; had she been young, and more like Peshauna, I should have been flattered; but unfortunately her appearance was not one that would be at all likely to inspire the tender passion. Her face was thin and wrinkled, while her whole body looked as though it were covered with a skin that had been originally intended for a very much larger person. She had also suffered from sickness, as was shown by the scars all over her body,—signs of the cupping and bleeding that had been performed on her by some Kaffir doctor, with an assagy in lieu of a lancet. Still she did not seem to be much displeased with herself,—a circumstance for which I can only account by the absence of looking-glasses in this village.I did not feel much inclined to move after my long walk this day, so I took a seat near the door of the hut, and watched the old lady turn my tobacco into snuff. She first cut it up into little bits with an assagy, and brought two large stones to the hut; into the lower stone, which had a well-worn hollow, she put all the bits of tobacco, and with the other, which was nearly circular, and about the size of an ostrich-egg, she commenced grinding the tobacco: it seemed very hard work, as she pressed heavily on the stone during the operation. After a time she added some water, which made the mess into a sort of paste, something like a child’s dirt-pie. After a great deal of grinding and scraping, the composition began really to look like a snuff-powder. She then got a wooden spoon nearly full of white wood-ashes, and mixed them with the tobacco. More grinding seemed to amalgamate the two compositions, when she tried a pinch herself, and pronounced that it wanted drying in the sun, and would then be good.During the whole time that she was at work she was uttering disjointed remarks to me, and at length proposed, in the most shameless and barefaced manner, that I should marry her daughter. I requested to know which of the damsels then present was the proposed bride, and was shown a young lady about twelve years old, who had very much the appearance of a picked Cochin-China fowl. I concealed my laughter, and told the old lady that when this lassy became taller, and very fat, I might then think more seriously of her proposition; but as at present I had not six cows (the required price) handy, I could not entertain the subject. The old lady told me she would get the skin and bone adorned with fat by the time I came on another visit; and, for all I know, this black charmer may be now waiting in disappointed plumpness. I stayed seven days at this kraal: after the third day I had no bread or biscuit, but merely roasted Indian corn and meat, with theamasiandubisi(sour and sweet milk). I therefore felt the want of bread, butter, and a bed, and bidding my shooting companion farewell, I distributed beads and tobacco to the women and some lucifers to the men, and then took my departure.I should wish to testify to the manner in which I, a perfect stranger, unknown by name or reputation to these savages, was treated during this visit. They were kind, civil, and really hospitable. It was pleasing to see a young Kaffir girl come each evening with a bowl of milk and some corn, and, putting them down quietly beside me, look with her wild black eyes into my face, and musically say, “Ar ko inkosi,” (Yours, chief).A clever and good missionary was settled near here, and all the Kaffirs spoke very highly of him. His good influence might have done something in turning these Kaffirs’ minds in the right direction, but all their civility and good feeling appeared as though natural and not by tuition. I do not look to the cause, I merely state what was really the case. They might have murdered me, and concealed the fact with sufficient cunning to prevent its discovery; but their only idea seemed to be that of simple honest-dealing.

One morning, Inkau told me that some large buck were in plenty not far from his kraal, and he thought that, with my help, he and his people might be able to have some very good sport. Being most anxious to witness a grand battue amongst the Kaffirs, I urged him to get all the men together who felt disposed for the expedition; and about a hundred assembled, all armed with either spears or knob-kerries.

I determined to be an observer of the proceedings rather than an actor, and not to shoot at anything unless I saw it must otherwise escape, and, by thus leaving the Kaffirs entirely alone, to watch their particular devices.

The country was open, and of that park-like, description so common in Africa; the covers being about ten acres in extent. These were, at a given signal, surrounded by men, whose assagies or kerries were held in readiness for throwing. Two or three Kaffirs, who were told off as beaters, would then go inside and beat the bushes and grass.

Some of these woods had been drawn blanks, when, on entering a thick patch of reeds and bush, a “Tally” was given by a beater, which was responded to by a grand flourish of assagies from the ring of men without. A couple of the wild bush-pigs broke out of the cover, and had scarcely shown themselves for a second when an avalanche of spears and sticks came down upon them. The swine immediately presented the appearance of ruffled porcupines, as the assagies were sticking in numbers into their hides, and pointing in all directions. Still they made a bold rush for their lives: it was of no use, however; for twenty stabbing-spears were driven deep into them, and piggy was soon made pork. The savages seemed to take great delight in the single act of drawing blood, several spears being thrust into the pigs long after they had ceased to move. I thought it a piece of wonderful forbearance when I found that four men received directions to take the pork home. I fully expected to see the pigs eaten then and there; delays in these things the Kaffirs seem to consider as dangerous; and having an appetite always in readiness, they find but little difficulty in accommodating themselves to time and place.

Our next find was a couple of black bush-buck, male and female. They broke out of the cover gallantly, and the ram, lowering his horns, charged straight at the line of Kaffirs. A shower of missiles which were hurled at him failed in checking his career, and he dashed forward, leaving his partner on the ground. The Kaffirs quickly cleared the road, and allowed him to rush through, giving a grand volley of assagies as he passed; half-a-dozen remained in him, and his fate was then decided. He stopped once or twice, and tried with his mouth to pull out an assagy that was stacking in his shoulder, but could not manage it. The Kaffirs, by keeping wide on each side, had run on ahead, and were now gradually inclosing the gallant stag again, delivering their assagies as they approached him. The buck seemed undecided where to charge; he was once or twice driven back by the yells of the Kaffirs and the rattling and shaking of their oxhide shields; he soon fell under the blows and stabs that were freely given to him.

The idea of dining off these two bucks was too great a temptation for my black companions to resist; they were now bent on eating, and I saw preparations made for lighting a fire, for which neither lucifer nor flint-and-steel were used.

Two dry sticks, one being of hard and the other of soft wood, were the materials used. The soft stick was laid on the ground, and held firmly down by one Kaffir, whilst another employed himself in scooping out a little hole in the centre of it with the point of his assagy; into this little hollow the end of the hard wood was placed and held vertically. These two men sat face to face, one taking the vertical stick between the palms of his hands, and making it twist about very quickly, while the other Kaffir held the lower stick firmly in its place; the friction caused by the end of one piece of wood revolving on the other soon made the two pieces smoke. When the Kaffir who twisted became tired, the respective duties were exchanged. These operations having continued about a couple of minutes, sparks began to appear, and, when they became numerous, were gathered into some dry grass, which was then swung round at arm’s length until a blaze was established; and a roaring fire was gladdening the hearts of the Kaffirs with the anticipation of a glorious feast in about ten minutes from the time that the operation was first commenced.

I joined the party as usual on these occasions, and did great credit to an Englishman’s eating powers. I was much amused at the cool manner in which Inkau treated some of the men present, who seemed to be considered amongst the lower class of Kaffirs. He cut up the bucks with his own hands, thereby securing the best and most choice bits for himself and me; while every now and then he would look round the circle of black and expecting faces, and chuck the common pieces, or tough bits, to these poor wretches, who snatched them up, and after half-cooking them, bolted piece after piece, like hungry curs.

These two bucks, although each weighed about 120 pounds, were only sufficient for a light luncheon for the Kaffirs; although to me the men seemed to be crammed like boa-constrictors. They showed a great disinclination to move after their repast, although they complained that they were stilllambile(hungry). An immense quantity of snuff was consumed, the tears coursing each other down the cheeks of many of the party, from the strength and rapidity of the doses. Seeing so great a disinclination on the part of the Kaffirs to use any exertion now that they were full of meat, I went by myself to have a look for a sea-cow, as the colonists call the hippopotamus, the Kaffir name for which is “imvubu.” I was told that they were to be found in the Imvoti river, and they were not very frequently disturbed in this part. The Kaffirs near the river frequently suffered very much from the depredations of this game, corn-gardens being sometimes nearly destroyed and trodden down by the sea-cow during one night. Other animals also persecuted these unfortunate people. A herd of elephants might quietly walk through their fences some night, with the same ease as though the barricades were cobwebs, crush to the ground the nearly ripe crop, and leave the whole Kaffir village with but a poor chance of obtaining a winter supply of corn. These Kaffirs were rarely possessed of a gun, and did not like to venture too near these savage intruders; and the shouting and beating of shields did not always produce the desired effect on the elephants. Sometimes a venturesome Kaffir would get himself smashed by attempting to drive away a savage troop, and this would act as a warning to other Kaffirs; and they therefore frequently preferred being pillaged to being squashed. Sometimes a party of bucks will get the habit of sneaking into the corn of a night, when it is green and young, and will enjoy a good feed at the expense of the kraal’s crop of mealeas.

The worst visitation, however, is a flight of locusts; and no idea can be formed of the destruction which these creatures will accomplish in even a couple of hours. I saw several heavy flights during my residence at Natal, the heaviest of which came upon the country at the back of the Berea, and extended about four miles inland. I can only compare its appearance to that of a heavy fall of snow, where each flake is represented by a locust. My horse would scarcely face them, and I was often nearly blinded by a great brute coming into my eye with a flop. I did not practise the same refined cruelty on this delinquent that a gentleman of South-African reputation told me he had one day done when a locust flew into his eye. Although blinded momentarily in one eye, he still kept the other on the rascal, who sought escape by diving amongst the crowd on the ground. After dismounting and capturing it, he passed a large pin through its body, and placed it in his waistcoat-pocket. Whenever the damaged eye smarted, he pulled the locust out of his pocket, and passed the pin through it in a fresh place: so hard-lived was this poor wretch, that I was assured the eye became quite well before the locust died.

Birds also frequently annoy the Kaffir gardens; and these people’s power of defence against them is so limited, that it is absurd to see the importance they will sometimes place upon their destruction.

I once won the heart of an old Kaffir and all his wives, by lulling two birds that had persecuted him for a considerable time.

He came from a great distance to request my aid, and I rode out with him and shot two crows that had made a regular joke of him for several weeks. These two birds had established their quarters near his kraal, and were going to build a nest in a large tree. The Kaffir would soon have destroyed their eggs, but in the mean time the birds took every opportunity of stealing any mealeas that might be put out to dry, or bits of meat that might be left in the sun, and were for a moment unwatched; his gardens, also, were examined occasionally for seed. When the old Kaffir rushed out at the birds with his knob-kerries, they would fly away quickly, giving an ironical sort of “caw,” and settling high up in the tree, look down upon him and continue their jokes. I witnessed this proceeding on first arriving at the kraal, and laughed immoderately at the old women’s expressions, as they shook their fists with rage at the birds, and told me the crows were so cunning, that they would not walk into a trap, and that they always served the man in the same manner in which I had seen them behave. I walked quietly down to the tree on which the birds were perched, they little suspecting the new dodge that was going to be practised on them: they gave some very jocular caws as I came near them, and eyed me with a sort of supercilious bend of the head. The excitement of all the Kaffirs was intense, as they looked on from a distance to witness the effect of my attack.

I walked round the tree until both birds were nearly in a line, they meanwhile watching all my proceedings most carefully, and I have no doubt flattering themselves that they were not going to be humbugged by me. Suddenly a charge of shot rattled through the branches, and down the crows both dropped, fluttering, to the ground.

A yell of delight from the expecting Kaffirs was the result of the success, as they rushed down towards their formerly triumphant, but now humbled enemies. Half a dozen hands eagerly seized on each bird, and in a few seconds their bodies were torn into the smallest pieces and scattered to the winds, whilst a shower of thanks and great praise fell to my share.

I walked quietly up the banks of the Imvoti for nearly three miles, but saw no signs of Hippo himself, although the spoor was very plentiful. The day was very hot, and, seeking a shady tree, whose branches overhung the stream, I sought shelter from the sun’s rays and rest for my legs. I was soon interested in watching a colony of the pretty little yellow orioles, which were building their nests in the trees near the river. They had selected those branches that were pliant and overhung the stream, a little additional weight on which would have lowered them into the water; they were thus secure from the depredations of birds-nesting monkeys, whose egg-hunting attempts might have resulted in a ducking. These birds seemed to be excellent weavers, and knit the grass in the most ingenious way. Their nests were made in the shape of a glass retort, the necks pointing downwards.

Upon casting my eyes on the water below the tree near which I was sitting, I saw a small black snout just above the water: it was perfectly still, not a ripple showing that it possessed life. Watching it attentively for a few moments, I saw it begin slowly to rise, and then recognised the head of an alligator: aiming between the eyes, I lodged a bullet there, which struck with a crash. The alligator sank instantly, but I could see that the water was agitated, as though the monster were having a tussle for his life among the mud and reeds below the surface. I kept a sharp look-out at different shallow parts near the pool, but could not see him rise anywhere. After waiting for some time, I returned to Inkau’s kraal, which I reached just before dark. A party went the next day on my trail, and examined the river, and found the scaly monster floating and quite dead in the pool where I had left him.

On the following morning, a Kaffir came to Inkau in breathless haste to say that the evening before one of his cows had been killed, as it was returning home, by a lion, that had paid no attention to the shouting of the boy who attended the cattle, but had carried her away right before his eyes. Inkau was the great Nimrod of these parts, and at once agreed to go in search of the lion. He went into his kraal and brought out a very large necklace of charmed medicine, which he fastened round his neck, and with powder-horn, belt, and musket, and a very large snuff-gourd, he announced himself ready to depart. I thought my horses might be safer where they were, than if I took one to ride to the kraal of the strange Kaffir, who was named Maqueto. I therefore directed my own Kaffirs to look after them, and to watch them from place to place as they grazed.

A walk of nearly twelve miles up the river brought us to the scene of the lion’s depredation on the previous night. All the women and children kept close in their kraals, and shouted to us, “Hambani gathle,” (Go on well); while some men, who did not seem at all inclined to leave the protection of their palisades, complimented us as we passed, and said, “Inkosi wena,” (You are chiefs). Inkau did not make a boast of his courage, although he said, “Abantu saba naye,” (The people are afraid of him, i.e. the lion). Inkau looked at the print of the lion’s foot, and pronounced him very big; he then followed quietly on, while Maqueto was now for making his adieu; but Inkau seemed indignant, and asked him why he left us. Maqueto said he had no gun. Inkau pointed to his assagies, which, however, Maqueto explained, were as nothing for attacking a lion. The controversy was getting warm, when I interfered, and said that we should not want Maqueto’s company, but should be better without it.

We then went on with the spoor, which took us over some freshly-burned ground, and down towards a deep kloof, with high square rocks sticking up round the edges. We found that the lion had scarcely allowed the cow’s body to drag on the ground, but had apparently carried it along quite easily, and as though of no weight. The Zulu breed of cattle are smaller than the English, the cows not being even so large as an Alderney; still it was a good weight to jog along with in his mouth. We went down the kloof with great care, listening after each dozen steps; but there was not a sound to be heard, no crunching of cow’s bones, or other indication of the lion’s presence. We soon came to the remains of the cow, very little, however, being left; for a lion had dined first, wolves and jackals afterwards, and vultures had then cleared up the scraps. I proposed to Inkau that we should lie in wait for the cow-slayer’s return, and, if necessary, sleep on the ground; but to this he seemed to have a great objection, as, like most Kaffirs, he disliked to work all night if he could avoid it. We cautiously walked through the long grass, and examined the kloof to the extreme end: as we came back, and got near the remains of the carcass, we threw some stones into a bush that we had not passed near. Just as we did so, something jumped out of the bush, and rushed through the long grass. I could only see a brown back occasionally showing over the long Tambokie grass, but fired where the movement was. Inkau instantly bolted like a shot, while I followed him with equal rapidity, and we stopped behind a tree at about sixty yards from where I had fired. I loaded, and was then all ready for any creature that might charge.

I asked Inkau at what animal I had fired. He said, “Don’t you know?” I told him that I was not certain, but fancied it might be the lion. He acknowledged that he saw so little of the animal that he really could not say: thus we had fired at a something, but neither of us, although by no means novices, could tell what this was.

We were most particular in our approach to the spot, and threw several stones in advance, but saw nothing until we came right on the body of a hyaena lying dead. The shot had been a very lucky one, for, aiming well forward at the moving grass, I had struck the hyaena with the bullet under the ear, and it had passed through the skull, dropping him dead in his track. We looked round the top of the kloof for spoor by which to trace the lion; none was to be found, and we had to return without even the satisfaction of a shot.

I won an old lady’s heart by a present of tobacco on my return to Inkau’s kraal. She had been frequently looking at me very attentively, and paid me some neat compliments; had she been young, and more like Peshauna, I should have been flattered; but unfortunately her appearance was not one that would be at all likely to inspire the tender passion. Her face was thin and wrinkled, while her whole body looked as though it were covered with a skin that had been originally intended for a very much larger person. She had also suffered from sickness, as was shown by the scars all over her body,—signs of the cupping and bleeding that had been performed on her by some Kaffir doctor, with an assagy in lieu of a lancet. Still she did not seem to be much displeased with herself,—a circumstance for which I can only account by the absence of looking-glasses in this village.

I did not feel much inclined to move after my long walk this day, so I took a seat near the door of the hut, and watched the old lady turn my tobacco into snuff. She first cut it up into little bits with an assagy, and brought two large stones to the hut; into the lower stone, which had a well-worn hollow, she put all the bits of tobacco, and with the other, which was nearly circular, and about the size of an ostrich-egg, she commenced grinding the tobacco: it seemed very hard work, as she pressed heavily on the stone during the operation. After a time she added some water, which made the mess into a sort of paste, something like a child’s dirt-pie. After a great deal of grinding and scraping, the composition began really to look like a snuff-powder. She then got a wooden spoon nearly full of white wood-ashes, and mixed them with the tobacco. More grinding seemed to amalgamate the two compositions, when she tried a pinch herself, and pronounced that it wanted drying in the sun, and would then be good.

During the whole time that she was at work she was uttering disjointed remarks to me, and at length proposed, in the most shameless and barefaced manner, that I should marry her daughter. I requested to know which of the damsels then present was the proposed bride, and was shown a young lady about twelve years old, who had very much the appearance of a picked Cochin-China fowl. I concealed my laughter, and told the old lady that when this lassy became taller, and very fat, I might then think more seriously of her proposition; but as at present I had not six cows (the required price) handy, I could not entertain the subject. The old lady told me she would get the skin and bone adorned with fat by the time I came on another visit; and, for all I know, this black charmer may be now waiting in disappointed plumpness. I stayed seven days at this kraal: after the third day I had no bread or biscuit, but merely roasted Indian corn and meat, with theamasiandubisi(sour and sweet milk). I therefore felt the want of bread, butter, and a bed, and bidding my shooting companion farewell, I distributed beads and tobacco to the women and some lucifers to the men, and then took my departure.

I should wish to testify to the manner in which I, a perfect stranger, unknown by name or reputation to these savages, was treated during this visit. They were kind, civil, and really hospitable. It was pleasing to see a young Kaffir girl come each evening with a bowl of milk and some corn, and, putting them down quietly beside me, look with her wild black eyes into my face, and musically say, “Ar ko inkosi,” (Yours, chief).

A clever and good missionary was settled near here, and all the Kaffirs spoke very highly of him. His good influence might have done something in turning these Kaffirs’ minds in the right direction, but all their civility and good feeling appeared as though natural and not by tuition. I do not look to the cause, I merely state what was really the case. They might have murdered me, and concealed the fact with sufficient cunning to prevent its discovery; but their only idea seemed to be that of simple honest-dealing.

Chapter Thirteen.The Natal Kaffirs—Pseudo-Christianity—Ideas of a future state—The Kaffir prophets—Black lawyers—A wife’s true value—Husband and wife—White savage versus black—Injustice towards the Kaffirs—Nobody wrong—Necessity of an army—Mr Holden’s opinion—Severity sometimes necessary—Real character of the Kaffir.The Kaffirs about Natal are a fine honest set of men; they will outwit you in a bargain like Englishmen, if they can; but this all seems to be fair, and in the way of trade. If I went to a kraal for some milk or anything, they would at once ask me what I would give them for it, and if I offered a certain amount of snuff or money, they would wrangle for more; but if I explained to them that I came as a guest, they nearly always gave freely what I wanted. The less they had been accustomed to white traders, the more generously disposed they seemed. I never felt that I incurred the slightest risk in going singly anywhere amongst these people. They seem to have a very wholesome dread of an Englishman’s power, and so consider it policy to make him a friend. They were peaceably disposed, in spite of our bad government, and seemed willing to listen to the missionaries, many of whom were located in the district. The labours of these teachers were, however great, unsatisfactory; for whilst they taught by word what was right, many other white men taught by deeds what was wrong; the simple-minded savage was therefore sadly puzzled, and was often, I thought, inclined to look upon us as a set of humbugs, from this difficulty of separating the bad from the good. “Are your laws and your God so good, that you send teachers to benefit us, and yet you cannot get your own men to obey them?” was the question of a young Kaffir to me, after he had seen a drunken Englishman in the streets of Pietermaritzburg during the day.It too frequently happens, that in our eagerness to civilise the savage, as we term it, we but impart to him the vile qualities that are common amongst the white men. The natural equilibrium of the savage mind is thus upset, and only those instructions are retained that agree with the man’s own inclination. I once met a Kaffir whose clothes gave evidence of his having lived near white men. When asked to do some work for me, he refused, stating as his reason, that the black man was as good as the white, and he did not think, therefore, one ought to work for the other. He was sitting down at the time drinking and smoking. Upon investigating this case, I found that a missionary, endeavouring to instil religious principles into this savage, and give him a motive for becoming a Christian, had assured him that in the sight of the Creator there was no difference between a black and a white man. This fact was enough for our friend, he jumped at the offer of baptism, answered to the name of Lazarus, professed belief in everything, and sat down with the comfortable idea of being as good as the best white man that he had ever seen. This man, of course, would do more harm than good amongst his fellows; they could discover the false reasoning, but would conclude that it had been taught by the missionary, and would reject, in consequence, all religious instruction. All these Kaffirs seemed to have a capacity for appreciating the beauties of their country, wild and graceful as it is to the English eye, which gazes with delight on the sweet-scented evergreens and graceful vines. The glories of the European conservatory are here but a common tree or an overgrown weed. Amongst scenes like these, the men I employed as aids in hunting had received their instruction. The heavens and the stars were their wonders and puzzles, spooring, throwing the assagy, and tending the cattle, their courses of study; the wild animals that they frequently encountered had infused into them a dash of their own savage natures; their barters and ambitions were limited to a few cattle, a blanket, and a gun.Every man of whom I inquired, appeared to believe in a future state, and that his position in that state would depend upon his deeds in the present one. His ideas on the subject were as wild and uncultivated as his country. Still he had a belief that by doing certain things he propitiated the spirit that ruled over the future. May not these simple but earnest proceedings of the good savage, joined to an ever-present wish to do right, obtain for him from above (when weighed in the scale of mercy) the position of the man intrusted with one talent? That he does not do what is right according to our Christian notions, is often the result of imperfect instruction, and the want of proper example. But he is in a less dangerous position than the civilised being who has received his ten talents in the shape of education, and yet wilfully neglects to use them in the right way. In judging these Kaffirs, if there appeared any indication of the good, or what could he admired in their thoughts or deeds, I placed it on record in my memory, with just the same impartiality that I did when anything equally bad was shown.It is too frequently the custom, not only when judging the savage, but also our own kindred,“That for some vicious mode of nature in them,OrBy the o’ergrowth of some complexion,* * * * * * * * * *These men—Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;Being nature’s livery, or fortune’s star—Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,As infinite as man may undergo)Shall in the general censure take corruptionFrom that particular fault: The dram of baseDoth all the noble substance often dout,To his own scandal.”Some of the Kaffir prophets are most wonderfully eloquent and clear. They will talk for an hour or two without being at a loss for a word, and, strong in argument, they can bring many examples to make good their case. They are very gentlemanly in their language, and I do not think that they use as much personal abuse as do many gifted orators in civilised countries. An Englishman ought not to underrate their talents in this particular, or he will probably be worsted in an encounter of words. A proof of this lawyer-like talent was exhibited by a great chief near Natal; he was met, however, with equal skill by the officer who went to him as ambassador. There is no greater crime amongst savages than for a simple man to accumulate cattle in large quantities, as it is thought an attempt to rival his chief. When this is the case, a cause for slaughter and appropriation is soon discovered; the other parties are equally on the alert to watch for suspicious demonstrations against them. If they suppose that anything is intended, they leave their cattle, and make a rush into the district under English control: they aretheresafe, and cannot be pursued by the army of the indignant chief, as it would be a breach of frontier rules. The chief to whom I refer had upon one occasion crossed the boundary after a renegade; so we sent an ambassador to him to remind him of his conduct, and demand an apology. On the matter being discussed, the Kaffir remarked that it was very hard that we did not allow him to punish his traitors by following and slaying them. “If,” said he, “your own men mutinied, murdered your officers, and ran into my country, you, I know, would want to follow and punish them, while I am not allowed to do so.” It was true enough that, should this have happened, we certainly should have followed and captured the mutineers. So the ambassador had but one answer, which was, “The Englishman’s laws are so just and good that all men, black or white, run to them instead of away from them.” A Kaffir is very grasping in bargains; he will always ask much more than he purposes taking, and will argue and talk for a considerable time before he can be beaten down. If some easy person once pays a high price for an article, it is afterwards very difficult to obtain the same sort of thing for a lower, and the market is at once spoiled. A man of mine wounded by accident an old Kaffir woman in the leg; the headman of the kraal at once demanded from me a cow as compensation, as accidents are not recognised by Kaffirs. He brought his dinner and snuff-box to my hut early, and sat talking until late, for three days, gradually lessening his demands, until two sticks of Cavendish tobacco eventually satisfied him. Had I given in to his exorbitant demand, the price would have been an established one, and an old Kaffir woman could not have been wounded under the penalty of a cow. The Kaffir notation is different from ours; they calculate so many elephants’ tusks = so much money, so much money = one cow; six cows = one wife; this being the highest currency amongst them. It may strike many of my readers (in case I have them) as odd, that a wife should be valued at such a price. Their family arrangements, however, are different from ours: whereas our first expense is generally the least, with them it is the greatest, and the only one; all that takes place afterwards being interest on their original investment. If a Kaffir has a large family, especially of girls, they are soon made useful in the cultivation of his gardens, and, when at a “coming-out” age, are sold at their fair valuation in cattle. The honeymoon over, Mrs Matuan, or Eondema, is set to work at once at turning over the Indian-corn garden, or making baskets to hold milk, etc. The master of the house, in the mean while, has a look at his cattle while they are feeding, milks the cows on their return at night, and then lies in his hut smoking dakka, a very intoxicating root, something between tobacco and opium. Thus, an investment in wives is a very common custom amongst rich Kaffirs. I made a great mistake on one occasion when I intended to give the Kaffir Monyosi a reproof. On going to his kraal, on a warm beautiful day, to ask him to come out and shoot, he told me that he was very lazy, and wanted to stay in his hut and smoke. I told him to come out and shoot, and show himself to be a man, and not stop in his hut all day like a woman (thinking of our English customs). He gave a knowing sort of grin, and said, “Themenstop in all day; thewomengo out and work!” A Kaffir’s riches consist in either wives or cattle, some of the great chiefs having a hundred wives, and many thousand head of cattle.Travellers vary in their accounts of the nature of the South-African savage. Each should speak according to his experience, but at the same time he should judge fairly, and with all due allowance for the ignorant state of these people.The frontier Kaffirs, I have before said, are confirmed rascals; but I doubt whether we have not made them so ourselves; and we are pursuing a plan to form the Natal Kaffirs on the same model. Let us see whether other writers differ from me in their conclusions with regard to the savages. Captain Harris, in his “Wild Sports of Southern Africa,” says: “How truly it has been remarked by Captain Owen, that the state of those countries which have had little or no intercourse with civilised nations is a direct refutation of the theory of poets and philosophers, who would represent the ignorance of the savage as virtuous simplicity,—his miserable poverty as frugality and temperance,—and his stupid indolence as laudable contempt for wealth. Widely differing, indeed, were the facts which came under our observation;and doubtless it will ever be found that uncultivated man is a compound of treachery, cunning, debauchery, gluttony, and idleness.” Here the hinge appears to turn upon the term uncultivated man; and I am convinced that there are very many in the most civilised countries of Europe who as well deserve the term, without any of the excuses, as the savages of Africa,—at least, as those about Natal, of whom I now speak. Was the treatment I received at the kraal of Inkau, alone and at their mercy, either a compound of “treachery,” “cunning,” or “debauchery”? The gluttony and idleness I care not to defend; but these are not very grievous crimes to lay to the charge of able-bodied men who can taste meat scarcely once a week.I doubt whether I should have been treated as well in many of the manufacturing districts of England as I was here in Africa. In the former place, the only notice a stranger may get is having “arf a brick eaved at him,” or being “pinned by a bull pup.”Imagine the feelings of a Highland chieftain and his clan upon being quietly told that they must move away from their mountains and their country, but must not grumble, because the government has made a grant of land of five acres per man for his people on the Plumstead marshes, or some other place equally unsuited to their taste; the only reason assigned for this act being that their ancestors’ land, hallowed by victories and associations, is now required for a cotton-spinning manufactory. Would these otherwise loyal subjects become rebels, think you?Now let us see if the treatment of the Kaffirs of Natal is very different from this. It must be borne in mind that the poor heathen, in addition to his naturalamor patria, believes firmly that the spirits of his fathers are watching over him from the hills that they have during life inhabited; and that if he quits those hills, he, in a measure, withdraws from their care. The Journal of the Bishop of Cape Town, dated June 9th, 1850, states: “I have heard to-day from a lady who lives in the neighbourhood, that the chief, Umnini, of whom I have before spoken, removed from his lands on the Bluff (Natal) last Friday. He came to bid her farewell before he left; for they had been kind neighbours to each other. It was not without sorrow that he quitted his birthplace, where he has resided all his life, and withstood in his fastnesses the victorious troops of Tshaka, who conquered the whole country, and brought into subjection all the native chiefs, except this one and another. But now we want his land; it is important for our growing settlement at D’Urban that it should be in our possession; therefore he must go. He is weak and we are strong.” Although it is not sacrilege to suppose a bishop might be mistaken, still we will ask which of the two following is the more probable case:—That the Lord Bishop of Cape Town knew perfectly well what he was writing about, had good information of the facts he mentioned, and merely forbore from using stronger language on account of his holy character; or, that he was quite wrong altogether, and was mistaken with regard to the affair?Mightit not have been Umnini’s own wish that caused him to quit the land on which he had dwelt for half a century?Couldit not have been that he at last came to consider the soil that had drunk the blood of his warriors who died in defending it from the attacks of the savage Tshaka, as desecrated by the act instead of hallowed? Or did he not consider thatthough hundreds of moonshad shone upon him and his fathers in this place, future moons ought hereafter to shine upon him in a less fertile soil; and therefore, agreeing to the white man’s wishes, hewillinglyquitted his home for the price of a few head of cattle and went forth a wanderer?As to our strength and the Kaffirs’ weakness—oh, no! those things never happen here; if they did, some might ask, with the innocence of the child in the show, which was the uncultivated savage famous for “a compound of treachery and cunning,” and which the Christian. The same ambiguous answer might naturally be returned, “that we had paid our money and might take our choice.”These proceedings are all very well, if we look merely to this world as all and everything; but when we think of the next, the reflection is hardly so satisfactory.But who is wrong? Surely it is not the soldier, who merely goes to see that the orders given to him are carried out. The Colonial Government will say it is not they that are to blame, as land must be had. And it certainly is not the English Government that should bear the onus. It appears that amongst many of the officials of South Africa, there is a practice of adhering to the letter of the law, instead of the spirit; that is in strict accordance with the character shown by the soldier, who did not save a woman from drowning when he was close beside her, because he had been taught not to act without orders, and there was nothing in the Articles of War about drowning women.Let it not be supposed for a moment that I agree with those who are ever crying, “Do away with the soldiers,” or “Spare the poor savage from punishment.” When we have to deal with the ferocious savage, whether he is so naturally or has been made so by the mistaken policy of our forefathers, it is nothing but the strong arm and the firm hand that can and will ever keep him in subjection or prevent him from being a murderer and confirmed thief.Soldiers may be an evil, but so are doctors; and whenever the disease war breaks out, it must be vigorously attacked by the physicians, in the shape of soldiers; and the more ably and the better these soldiers attack the disease, the sooner will it be stopped, and the less frequent will be its recurrence. It would be as ridiculous and short-sighted a policy to send away all the doctors, hoping thereby to stop sickness, as to weaken our force anywhere in any country, by withdrawing or reducing its army, in the hope of better maintaining peace.The savage invariably considers that forbearance in war is caused by fear, and he is more ready and eager for battle after kindness and mercy have been shown him than he would be after a severe lesson. The Kaffir, when he really is a savage, is a most ferocious one; and although the distance that separates England from the Cape is so great, that events taking place there are scarcely discernible; still, they would cause a great stir did they happen nearer. Twelve hundred men, the number slain by these savages in the last war, would look a large body in Hyde Park. The same policy that punishes and subdues the aroused and vindictive Kaffir, ought to encourage and sympathise with him when he is quietly and peaceably disposed.Since penning the preceding pages, I have read a work on Natal and the eastern frontier of the Cape Colony, by the Rev. William Holden, who was living at D’Urban during my pilgrimage in the same neighbourhood. As he was an excellent Kaffir linguist, and was always spoken of by Kaffirs and white men with respect and affection, it is gratifying to find that his fifteen years of experience bring him to the same conclusions, with regard to the treatment of the Kaffirs, at which I may be considered to have jumped hastily after only three years’ investigation. I will quote from page 215 of his work:—“But let not those who are invested with a little brief authority use it in playing all sorts of fantastic tricks, or something worse. A Kaffir has a sharp sense of justice, and whilst he will respect and reverence the officer who will give him just punishment for his misdeeds, he will abhor the man who does him wanton wrong, and may be tempted to settle accounts in his own way.“The Kaffirs must be treated like children. If a man has a large family, and leaves them without restraint or control, his children become a plague to himself and a scourge to the community. The Kaffirs are children of a larger growth, and must be treated accordingly;childrenin knowledge, ignorant of the relationships of civilised society, and strangers to many of the motives which influence the conduct of the white man. But they aremenin physical and mental powers;menin the arts and usages of their nation, and the laws of their country; and the great difficulty in governing them is, to treat them as men-children, teaching them that to submit and to obey are essential to their own welfare as well as to that of others.“Some kind-hearted Christians will say, ‘This is much too severe;’ but my firm conviction, after many years’ experience, is, that it is not merely the best, but also the only way to save the native races from ruin and annihilation; and that, had the Kaffirs on the frontier of the old colony been treated with more apparent severity after the first war, a second outbreak would not have taken place. Who, I would ask, is their best friend, the man who would save them by apparent severity, or the man who would destroy them by mistaken kindness? I presume the former. Besides, it should not be forgotten that what appears to be severe to us is not so to them, since many of them have lived under the iron rule of cruel capricious despots, with no security for fife or property, and are consequently unable to appreciate or understand our excess of civilised kindness; being strangers to those refined feelings which operate in the breast of the Christian. The result of too mild a policy is, that in a few years they are changed from crouching, terror-stricken vassals, to bold, lawless, independent barbarians.”These latter remarks may appear out of place in a book of rough sketches of sport, but the Kaffirs were to me such trusty allies, faithful servants, and kind instructors in many, things, that, as a small token of gratitude for their services, I cannot refrain from making known the rough and thorny path that they are made to tread.

The Kaffirs about Natal are a fine honest set of men; they will outwit you in a bargain like Englishmen, if they can; but this all seems to be fair, and in the way of trade. If I went to a kraal for some milk or anything, they would at once ask me what I would give them for it, and if I offered a certain amount of snuff or money, they would wrangle for more; but if I explained to them that I came as a guest, they nearly always gave freely what I wanted. The less they had been accustomed to white traders, the more generously disposed they seemed. I never felt that I incurred the slightest risk in going singly anywhere amongst these people. They seem to have a very wholesome dread of an Englishman’s power, and so consider it policy to make him a friend. They were peaceably disposed, in spite of our bad government, and seemed willing to listen to the missionaries, many of whom were located in the district. The labours of these teachers were, however great, unsatisfactory; for whilst they taught by word what was right, many other white men taught by deeds what was wrong; the simple-minded savage was therefore sadly puzzled, and was often, I thought, inclined to look upon us as a set of humbugs, from this difficulty of separating the bad from the good. “Are your laws and your God so good, that you send teachers to benefit us, and yet you cannot get your own men to obey them?” was the question of a young Kaffir to me, after he had seen a drunken Englishman in the streets of Pietermaritzburg during the day.

It too frequently happens, that in our eagerness to civilise the savage, as we term it, we but impart to him the vile qualities that are common amongst the white men. The natural equilibrium of the savage mind is thus upset, and only those instructions are retained that agree with the man’s own inclination. I once met a Kaffir whose clothes gave evidence of his having lived near white men. When asked to do some work for me, he refused, stating as his reason, that the black man was as good as the white, and he did not think, therefore, one ought to work for the other. He was sitting down at the time drinking and smoking. Upon investigating this case, I found that a missionary, endeavouring to instil religious principles into this savage, and give him a motive for becoming a Christian, had assured him that in the sight of the Creator there was no difference between a black and a white man. This fact was enough for our friend, he jumped at the offer of baptism, answered to the name of Lazarus, professed belief in everything, and sat down with the comfortable idea of being as good as the best white man that he had ever seen. This man, of course, would do more harm than good amongst his fellows; they could discover the false reasoning, but would conclude that it had been taught by the missionary, and would reject, in consequence, all religious instruction. All these Kaffirs seemed to have a capacity for appreciating the beauties of their country, wild and graceful as it is to the English eye, which gazes with delight on the sweet-scented evergreens and graceful vines. The glories of the European conservatory are here but a common tree or an overgrown weed. Amongst scenes like these, the men I employed as aids in hunting had received their instruction. The heavens and the stars were their wonders and puzzles, spooring, throwing the assagy, and tending the cattle, their courses of study; the wild animals that they frequently encountered had infused into them a dash of their own savage natures; their barters and ambitions were limited to a few cattle, a blanket, and a gun.

Every man of whom I inquired, appeared to believe in a future state, and that his position in that state would depend upon his deeds in the present one. His ideas on the subject were as wild and uncultivated as his country. Still he had a belief that by doing certain things he propitiated the spirit that ruled over the future. May not these simple but earnest proceedings of the good savage, joined to an ever-present wish to do right, obtain for him from above (when weighed in the scale of mercy) the position of the man intrusted with one talent? That he does not do what is right according to our Christian notions, is often the result of imperfect instruction, and the want of proper example. But he is in a less dangerous position than the civilised being who has received his ten talents in the shape of education, and yet wilfully neglects to use them in the right way. In judging these Kaffirs, if there appeared any indication of the good, or what could he admired in their thoughts or deeds, I placed it on record in my memory, with just the same impartiality that I did when anything equally bad was shown.

It is too frequently the custom, not only when judging the savage, but also our own kindred,

“That for some vicious mode of nature in them,OrBy the o’ergrowth of some complexion,* * * * * * * * * *These men—Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;Being nature’s livery, or fortune’s star—Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,As infinite as man may undergo)Shall in the general censure take corruptionFrom that particular fault: The dram of baseDoth all the noble substance often dout,To his own scandal.”

“That for some vicious mode of nature in them,OrBy the o’ergrowth of some complexion,* * * * * * * * * *These men—Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect;Being nature’s livery, or fortune’s star—Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace,As infinite as man may undergo)Shall in the general censure take corruptionFrom that particular fault: The dram of baseDoth all the noble substance often dout,To his own scandal.”

Some of the Kaffir prophets are most wonderfully eloquent and clear. They will talk for an hour or two without being at a loss for a word, and, strong in argument, they can bring many examples to make good their case. They are very gentlemanly in their language, and I do not think that they use as much personal abuse as do many gifted orators in civilised countries. An Englishman ought not to underrate their talents in this particular, or he will probably be worsted in an encounter of words. A proof of this lawyer-like talent was exhibited by a great chief near Natal; he was met, however, with equal skill by the officer who went to him as ambassador. There is no greater crime amongst savages than for a simple man to accumulate cattle in large quantities, as it is thought an attempt to rival his chief. When this is the case, a cause for slaughter and appropriation is soon discovered; the other parties are equally on the alert to watch for suspicious demonstrations against them. If they suppose that anything is intended, they leave their cattle, and make a rush into the district under English control: they aretheresafe, and cannot be pursued by the army of the indignant chief, as it would be a breach of frontier rules. The chief to whom I refer had upon one occasion crossed the boundary after a renegade; so we sent an ambassador to him to remind him of his conduct, and demand an apology. On the matter being discussed, the Kaffir remarked that it was very hard that we did not allow him to punish his traitors by following and slaying them. “If,” said he, “your own men mutinied, murdered your officers, and ran into my country, you, I know, would want to follow and punish them, while I am not allowed to do so.” It was true enough that, should this have happened, we certainly should have followed and captured the mutineers. So the ambassador had but one answer, which was, “The Englishman’s laws are so just and good that all men, black or white, run to them instead of away from them.” A Kaffir is very grasping in bargains; he will always ask much more than he purposes taking, and will argue and talk for a considerable time before he can be beaten down. If some easy person once pays a high price for an article, it is afterwards very difficult to obtain the same sort of thing for a lower, and the market is at once spoiled. A man of mine wounded by accident an old Kaffir woman in the leg; the headman of the kraal at once demanded from me a cow as compensation, as accidents are not recognised by Kaffirs. He brought his dinner and snuff-box to my hut early, and sat talking until late, for three days, gradually lessening his demands, until two sticks of Cavendish tobacco eventually satisfied him. Had I given in to his exorbitant demand, the price would have been an established one, and an old Kaffir woman could not have been wounded under the penalty of a cow. The Kaffir notation is different from ours; they calculate so many elephants’ tusks = so much money, so much money = one cow; six cows = one wife; this being the highest currency amongst them. It may strike many of my readers (in case I have them) as odd, that a wife should be valued at such a price. Their family arrangements, however, are different from ours: whereas our first expense is generally the least, with them it is the greatest, and the only one; all that takes place afterwards being interest on their original investment. If a Kaffir has a large family, especially of girls, they are soon made useful in the cultivation of his gardens, and, when at a “coming-out” age, are sold at their fair valuation in cattle. The honeymoon over, Mrs Matuan, or Eondema, is set to work at once at turning over the Indian-corn garden, or making baskets to hold milk, etc. The master of the house, in the mean while, has a look at his cattle while they are feeding, milks the cows on their return at night, and then lies in his hut smoking dakka, a very intoxicating root, something between tobacco and opium. Thus, an investment in wives is a very common custom amongst rich Kaffirs. I made a great mistake on one occasion when I intended to give the Kaffir Monyosi a reproof. On going to his kraal, on a warm beautiful day, to ask him to come out and shoot, he told me that he was very lazy, and wanted to stay in his hut and smoke. I told him to come out and shoot, and show himself to be a man, and not stop in his hut all day like a woman (thinking of our English customs). He gave a knowing sort of grin, and said, “Themenstop in all day; thewomengo out and work!” A Kaffir’s riches consist in either wives or cattle, some of the great chiefs having a hundred wives, and many thousand head of cattle.

Travellers vary in their accounts of the nature of the South-African savage. Each should speak according to his experience, but at the same time he should judge fairly, and with all due allowance for the ignorant state of these people.

The frontier Kaffirs, I have before said, are confirmed rascals; but I doubt whether we have not made them so ourselves; and we are pursuing a plan to form the Natal Kaffirs on the same model. Let us see whether other writers differ from me in their conclusions with regard to the savages. Captain Harris, in his “Wild Sports of Southern Africa,” says: “How truly it has been remarked by Captain Owen, that the state of those countries which have had little or no intercourse with civilised nations is a direct refutation of the theory of poets and philosophers, who would represent the ignorance of the savage as virtuous simplicity,—his miserable poverty as frugality and temperance,—and his stupid indolence as laudable contempt for wealth. Widely differing, indeed, were the facts which came under our observation;and doubtless it will ever be found that uncultivated man is a compound of treachery, cunning, debauchery, gluttony, and idleness.” Here the hinge appears to turn upon the term uncultivated man; and I am convinced that there are very many in the most civilised countries of Europe who as well deserve the term, without any of the excuses, as the savages of Africa,—at least, as those about Natal, of whom I now speak. Was the treatment I received at the kraal of Inkau, alone and at their mercy, either a compound of “treachery,” “cunning,” or “debauchery”? The gluttony and idleness I care not to defend; but these are not very grievous crimes to lay to the charge of able-bodied men who can taste meat scarcely once a week.

I doubt whether I should have been treated as well in many of the manufacturing districts of England as I was here in Africa. In the former place, the only notice a stranger may get is having “arf a brick eaved at him,” or being “pinned by a bull pup.”

Imagine the feelings of a Highland chieftain and his clan upon being quietly told that they must move away from their mountains and their country, but must not grumble, because the government has made a grant of land of five acres per man for his people on the Plumstead marshes, or some other place equally unsuited to their taste; the only reason assigned for this act being that their ancestors’ land, hallowed by victories and associations, is now required for a cotton-spinning manufactory. Would these otherwise loyal subjects become rebels, think you?

Now let us see if the treatment of the Kaffirs of Natal is very different from this. It must be borne in mind that the poor heathen, in addition to his naturalamor patria, believes firmly that the spirits of his fathers are watching over him from the hills that they have during life inhabited; and that if he quits those hills, he, in a measure, withdraws from their care. The Journal of the Bishop of Cape Town, dated June 9th, 1850, states: “I have heard to-day from a lady who lives in the neighbourhood, that the chief, Umnini, of whom I have before spoken, removed from his lands on the Bluff (Natal) last Friday. He came to bid her farewell before he left; for they had been kind neighbours to each other. It was not without sorrow that he quitted his birthplace, where he has resided all his life, and withstood in his fastnesses the victorious troops of Tshaka, who conquered the whole country, and brought into subjection all the native chiefs, except this one and another. But now we want his land; it is important for our growing settlement at D’Urban that it should be in our possession; therefore he must go. He is weak and we are strong.” Although it is not sacrilege to suppose a bishop might be mistaken, still we will ask which of the two following is the more probable case:—

That the Lord Bishop of Cape Town knew perfectly well what he was writing about, had good information of the facts he mentioned, and merely forbore from using stronger language on account of his holy character; or, that he was quite wrong altogether, and was mistaken with regard to the affair?

Mightit not have been Umnini’s own wish that caused him to quit the land on which he had dwelt for half a century?Couldit not have been that he at last came to consider the soil that had drunk the blood of his warriors who died in defending it from the attacks of the savage Tshaka, as desecrated by the act instead of hallowed? Or did he not consider thatthough hundreds of moonshad shone upon him and his fathers in this place, future moons ought hereafter to shine upon him in a less fertile soil; and therefore, agreeing to the white man’s wishes, hewillinglyquitted his home for the price of a few head of cattle and went forth a wanderer?

As to our strength and the Kaffirs’ weakness—oh, no! those things never happen here; if they did, some might ask, with the innocence of the child in the show, which was the uncultivated savage famous for “a compound of treachery and cunning,” and which the Christian. The same ambiguous answer might naturally be returned, “that we had paid our money and might take our choice.”

These proceedings are all very well, if we look merely to this world as all and everything; but when we think of the next, the reflection is hardly so satisfactory.

But who is wrong? Surely it is not the soldier, who merely goes to see that the orders given to him are carried out. The Colonial Government will say it is not they that are to blame, as land must be had. And it certainly is not the English Government that should bear the onus. It appears that amongst many of the officials of South Africa, there is a practice of adhering to the letter of the law, instead of the spirit; that is in strict accordance with the character shown by the soldier, who did not save a woman from drowning when he was close beside her, because he had been taught not to act without orders, and there was nothing in the Articles of War about drowning women.

Let it not be supposed for a moment that I agree with those who are ever crying, “Do away with the soldiers,” or “Spare the poor savage from punishment.” When we have to deal with the ferocious savage, whether he is so naturally or has been made so by the mistaken policy of our forefathers, it is nothing but the strong arm and the firm hand that can and will ever keep him in subjection or prevent him from being a murderer and confirmed thief.

Soldiers may be an evil, but so are doctors; and whenever the disease war breaks out, it must be vigorously attacked by the physicians, in the shape of soldiers; and the more ably and the better these soldiers attack the disease, the sooner will it be stopped, and the less frequent will be its recurrence. It would be as ridiculous and short-sighted a policy to send away all the doctors, hoping thereby to stop sickness, as to weaken our force anywhere in any country, by withdrawing or reducing its army, in the hope of better maintaining peace.

The savage invariably considers that forbearance in war is caused by fear, and he is more ready and eager for battle after kindness and mercy have been shown him than he would be after a severe lesson. The Kaffir, when he really is a savage, is a most ferocious one; and although the distance that separates England from the Cape is so great, that events taking place there are scarcely discernible; still, they would cause a great stir did they happen nearer. Twelve hundred men, the number slain by these savages in the last war, would look a large body in Hyde Park. The same policy that punishes and subdues the aroused and vindictive Kaffir, ought to encourage and sympathise with him when he is quietly and peaceably disposed.

Since penning the preceding pages, I have read a work on Natal and the eastern frontier of the Cape Colony, by the Rev. William Holden, who was living at D’Urban during my pilgrimage in the same neighbourhood. As he was an excellent Kaffir linguist, and was always spoken of by Kaffirs and white men with respect and affection, it is gratifying to find that his fifteen years of experience bring him to the same conclusions, with regard to the treatment of the Kaffirs, at which I may be considered to have jumped hastily after only three years’ investigation. I will quote from page 215 of his work:—

“But let not those who are invested with a little brief authority use it in playing all sorts of fantastic tricks, or something worse. A Kaffir has a sharp sense of justice, and whilst he will respect and reverence the officer who will give him just punishment for his misdeeds, he will abhor the man who does him wanton wrong, and may be tempted to settle accounts in his own way.

“The Kaffirs must be treated like children. If a man has a large family, and leaves them without restraint or control, his children become a plague to himself and a scourge to the community. The Kaffirs are children of a larger growth, and must be treated accordingly;childrenin knowledge, ignorant of the relationships of civilised society, and strangers to many of the motives which influence the conduct of the white man. But they aremenin physical and mental powers;menin the arts and usages of their nation, and the laws of their country; and the great difficulty in governing them is, to treat them as men-children, teaching them that to submit and to obey are essential to their own welfare as well as to that of others.

“Some kind-hearted Christians will say, ‘This is much too severe;’ but my firm conviction, after many years’ experience, is, that it is not merely the best, but also the only way to save the native races from ruin and annihilation; and that, had the Kaffirs on the frontier of the old colony been treated with more apparent severity after the first war, a second outbreak would not have taken place. Who, I would ask, is their best friend, the man who would save them by apparent severity, or the man who would destroy them by mistaken kindness? I presume the former. Besides, it should not be forgotten that what appears to be severe to us is not so to them, since many of them have lived under the iron rule of cruel capricious despots, with no security for fife or property, and are consequently unable to appreciate or understand our excess of civilised kindness; being strangers to those refined feelings which operate in the breast of the Christian. The result of too mild a policy is, that in a few years they are changed from crouching, terror-stricken vassals, to bold, lawless, independent barbarians.”

These latter remarks may appear out of place in a book of rough sketches of sport, but the Kaffirs were to me such trusty allies, faithful servants, and kind instructors in many, things, that, as a small token of gratitude for their services, I cannot refrain from making known the rough and thorny path that they are made to tread.

Chapter Fourteen.A buffalo hunt—A sudden meeting—A Kaffir’s advice—Buffalo killed—An African race-course—The start—The run—The charge—Won at last—Unpleasant neighbours—The single spur—Light-coloured Kaffirs—Know thyself—Neglected education—Black and white—Too knowing by half—The fool’s argument.Monyosi, his brother, and my Kaffir Inyovu, were with me across the Umganie one morning, when we came upon the fresh spoor of a single buffalo. The spoor was very neatly taken up by Monyosi, who noticed it on some very hard and difficult ground, where it would have been totally invisible to unskilled eyes. The professor marked it, and, after following for nearly two hundred yards, brought us to several other footprints, all of that morning’s date; there seemed to be about a dozen in the herd.We found that these buffaloes had entered the forest by one of the old elephant-tracks, and had kept straight on as though wishing to bury themselves in the most retired glens. They had neither stopped to browse or graze, but passed all the feeding-places with temperance and self-denial.We quickly followed on their traces, and were rewarded, after journeying two or three miles, by finding the signs very recent: we were then only a minute or so behind the herd. We waited a short time to listen, and soon heard a slight rustling of the branches to our left, which showed us that the buffaloes were moving about. We turned back a little, and arranged so that we should approach them from the leeward side. Monyosi seemed to be more careful and cautious in his approach to these buffaloes than I had ever seen him with elephants. This, I afterwards learnt, was caused by his having been knocked heels over head and nearly killed by a wounded buffalo, some months before I made his acquaintance. I allowed Monyosi to lead, taking care to follow close to his elbow; the two other Kaffirs bringing up the rear of the cavalcade.We were expecting to come upon the buffaloes at every turn, and each muscle of Monyosi’s well formed figure was seen as though strung in readiness for a spring to the right or left. I looked round to see if the two Kaffirs were following close, and upon again turning my head, saw Monyosi bringing his gun up to his shoulder. Kaffirs generally fire very slowly, and I had time to notice that a buffalo was standing looking at us about five paces distant, to take a quick aim at his forehead, and fire at the same instant with Monyosi.None of us waited to see what was the result of our fire, but each bolted as hard as his legs could carry him in the particular direction that the path nearest him might lead. I turned round and made play down that by which we had approached, but fancying that I heard the branches crashing behind me, I dodged short to the right up a convenient cross path. This proceeding was only just in time, as I saw, on looking round, that two buffaloes had charged down the same path that I had first followed; one of them was evidently disposed to be mischievous, as he stopped and turned after me. Dropping my gun, I caught at some wild vine and quickly scrambled up a tree, and sought protection amidst its elevated branches. My position was now quite safe, and I could laugh at my savage adversary. So he also seemed to think, as he took but one look at me and trotted away.Of the Kaffirs I had seen nothing since we fired: they had disappeared most miraculously. I gave the usual whistle, and was answered at some distance by them. They came to the tree on which I was perched, looked at me, my gun, and the buffalo’s footprints; everything was instantly explained to them; they shook their heads, covered their mouths with their hands, and gave a longw-o-w. After asking one or two questions, Monyosi advised me not to run again towards the direction in which a buffalo’s head pointed, but to dart to the right or left.We found plenty of blood on the trail, and hoped to come up with our wounded friend. His hardened old constitution did not seem to have suffered much as yet; for four miles at least were passed over without our at all appearing to gain on this old die-hard.We had entered directly into the bush, and had consequently to retrace all our steps to get clear again; it was nearly dark now, and twilight is scarcely a reality near the tropics, darkness following so immediately on daylight. The Kaffirs proposed our stopping on the trail, but I was unfortunately very hungry, and had a very great desire for a bottle of Bass and a beefsteak, which I knew awaited me at home; I therefore gave up the idea of a leaf bed, and voted for a return. We came along very quickly, and reached the edge of the bush after the moon had risen some time, and had given her light in exchange for that of the sun; she did not equal it, but she certainly made it as much like day as it is possible for night to be; we could see everything, out of the shades of the forest, quite as distinctly as by daylight. A large herd of wild-pigs had come out to have a peep at the open glade in which we were; they loomed large in the distance, and we mistook them for buffaloes; upon getting near enough for a shot, they were discovered to be bush-pigs. We shot a couple before they knew of our approach.On the occasion that I mentioned of buffalo-shooting, while on my trip up the country with the Kaffir Inkau, he led on quietly and steadily, and at length stopped, and slowly raising his arm, pointed in the direction of a large tree. I followed his point, and saw a fine old buffalo standing with his ears moving about, and his snout in the air. I brought both barrels to the full cock, by the “artful dodge,” without noise, and gave the contents to him right and left behind the shoulder, when he sprang forward, and dashed wildly through the forest. After rushing a hundred yards or so, at full speed, he dropped dead.I went across the Umlass for a week’s shooting with a Kaffir named M’untu; near his kraal there was some undulating ground sprinkled with bush, which was said to be visited occasionally by buffalo. Having one of my horses fit to go, I was anxious for a gallop after these wide-awake fellows. Starting at peep of day, I found a herd of ten or twelve grazing near a ravine; they saw or heard me from a considerable distance, and sneaked into the ravine.It is curious how soon a white man’s approach causes alarm to the wild animals of Africa. Whilst a Kaffir can pass about almost unnoticed, the former is at once a cause of terror.I entered the ravine, and by shouting and firing a shot scattered the herd of buffaloes in a few minutes; I did not get close to them in the ravine, but saw them topping the ridge outside.I was soon after them: the country was undulating, with a little bush here and there. I yelled at the troop as they galloped along huddled together, and turned them from a thick patch of bush, for which they were making, into a large flat open plain with short springy turf. Here is the Epsom of Africa; a lawn of twenty-five miles, flat as a billiard-table is the course, the match is p.p., the parties are a stout little thirteen hands high pony with eleven stone on his back, and a bull-buffalo sixteen hands high with a feather weight. Now what are the odds—who will bet two to one on the buffalo? No takers! An even bet I name the winner. What is the opinion of the jackal, I wonder, who is peeping over the shoulders of his young family from out of the hole that has been his residence since the ant-bear who built it was killed last year by a leopard? What will the Bushman lay against theinthumba(buffalo) being dropped in the first two miles? This fellow does not care much which is the winner, he only wishes to see one or the other killed. From his hiding-place in the rocky crannies, he watches the race with great excitement. If the buffalo is killed, he is sure to fall in for a share of the meat. If the white man breaks his neck in some of the jackals’ holes or game-pits, it will be hard lines if this own brother to the baboons does not manage to have a good ride that very night on the saddle that theumlungo(white man) lately occupied.Now they are all ready for the start,—great excitement in the crowd. Jackals shuffle and shriek; even the hyaena, that has hitherto appeared asleep, wakes up and gives an hysterical laugh; the vultures and eagles, from the top of their grand stand high up in the clouds, have a capital view, wheeling slowly round, in readiness either to gorge the flesh of the buffalo or pollute that of the white hunter. The hoofs of the horse striking on the ground act the part of starting-bell; the hunter’s approach is thus discovered; the buffalo whirls his tail, and the Umlungo bends in his saddle; and “They’re off!” would be the remark were any there to make it. But no, not a living soul is seen; all is earth, sky, and wild animals. One white man is the only thing bearing God’s image that is now within ten miles, and he is employed in fulfilling the ordinance that “over every beast of the field shalt thou have dominion.” The Bushman, on the distant rocky mountain, sees the race plainly without the aid of a telescope, and watches intently what is so intelligible to his experienced eyes, but what would be to some of our highly scientific savants’ visions like two indistinct specks. The fight weight takes the lead at a rattling pace, and leaves the eleven stone far behind; he trusts to his speed, but still thinks it may be necessary to keep those rocky mountains under his lee, in which to retreat, as a sort of nest-egg. Away they go; flowering geraniums and candelabra-shaped amaryllis are trodden down as though the veriest weeds on earth. “Cluck, cluck—click, click—nhlpr-nh!” Why is the Bushman so excited? Ah! he knows all about it; the buffalo has turned a little, and is now making for some old game-pits, with a sharp stake in the middle of each. Now, what a chance!—both buffalo and horse may be engulphed—all three perhaps killed! What a glorious finale this would be! Fancy the jollification of buffalo beef to commence with, and a second course of horseflesh, while between the mouthfuls a knife might be driven in spite between the ribs of the broken-necked white man, whose body would be lying by! What would be a feast of turtle and venison compared to this? In England you don’t know how to live and feast like a Bushman. Unfortunately, and bad luck for “Cluck-click,” neither buffalo nor horse has yet broken his neck. There is no one looking on to see how the horse goes,—no one to give another fifty for him,—no one to see how he crossed that old watercourse; and yet how boldly the man rides. He is not riding in this style merely to sell the animal: he does not look round to see if any of the swells of the field are watching him, and then for applause, or money in prospect, cram his horse at a stiff rail, at which his craven heart would not dare even to look were no man near. No! it must really be that the heart and soul of this desert rider are in his sport, and that he feels—“There is rapture to vault on the champing steed.And bound away with the eagle’s speed,With the death-fraught firelock in his hand,The only law of the desert land.”A streak of blood on the black hide of the buffalo, and foam from his mouth, tell a tale that he has not run thus far even without being distressed in more ways than one. Now they are near the Bushman’s box, who sits like a judge to see them come in. Hi! hi! here they come! there they go! Bang, bang! the buffalo stumbles; he got the second barrel in the ribs. The horse begins to reel in his gallop a little, but, being well held together by his rider, he has at least another mile still in him; now the hunter rides nearly alongside the bull, and it is neck and neck. What a change! tables turned! Truly it is so; the hunter is the hunted. The buffalo, with head low, is charging; the rider, steering his horse with firm hand, and a watchful eye on theinthumba, suddenly wheels, and, dropping apparently off his horse, steadily aims at his riderless competitor; two little white puffs of smoke may be seen, and a thousand echoing guns are heard, like a volley, from the surrounding mountains. The buffalo has had enough; he quietly drops on his knees, lays his head on the ground, doubles his hind-legs under him, and reposes at full length on the plain, to rise no more. The race is run; the Derby won by the thirteen hands and eleven stone. The prize is valueless as regards money; the flesh is given to Kaffirs who are sent after it; the head and horn are too heavy to carry—but the tail is the prize. This trophy, years afterwards, may be looked at by some Nimrod of sparrows—questions asked about it; and in response to the information that it is the tail of an angry old buffalo that was taken after a long run, and when the owner had been shot whilst charging, this hero may then inform you that he thinks that sort of sport must be rather good fun, and it is just the style of thing to suit him. The prize is of no value save to the winner. Who can paint the feelings that he enjoys, however, as he sits and contemplates this poor old dried bit of skin and hair, and looks back on the beginning and end of the run in which his hand, without aid, won it? Can it be that a single mind only enters thoroughly into a scene like that which I have feebly described, and that the memory has drunk so deeply of the details, stirring to itself, but valueless to others, that the mere look of the prize suffices to recall the scene. Is it not a greater proof of sense and of the power of intellect than arguing whether Brown’s conduct was right in submitting to be told that he was anything but what he should be; or in calculating what, ought to be the fair odds if the Middleham colt gives 7 pounds-weight to the b.f. by Sir Sutton,—or—or— Well, we will suppose it is a mad corner; it may be a treat to some, as sense and intellect are so very common, to have a little madness now and then. I for one am content to be thus afflicted every day of my life, as long as I am not confined in Hanwell, or prevented from roaming in thought over lands blessed with the sun and air pure from heaven, in place of bronchitial fogs, foul sewers, and gloomy skies. We will suppose that the eleven stone told, and the horse was beaten; no matter, we have no lost our money or our honour. We need not take a trip to the continent as it nears the settling day at the Corner; we have only to jog quietly back to the kraal or the camp: a day’s rest, and all one’s losses are regained, and disappointments recovered. Hurrah for the desert!While riding about near some kraals, not far from M’untu Umculu’s, I saw a very fine herd of Zulu cattle; they are beautiful little creatures, looking more as though they were a cross between an antelope and a cow than merely common cattle. I approached them to have a nearer look, when they seemed equally disposed to stare at me. We stood thus for about a minute, when two or three young bulls came forward quite close to me; others followed, the first advanced, more came in front of them, and I found that I was getting regularly hemmed in by these curious gentlemen. I therefore turned tail, and walked quietly away; they followed me rapidly, coming in the most impertinent manner with their horns within a foot or two of my legs. I shouted at them, but it merely seemed to raise their anger, as they stamped furiously; they were evidently unaccustomed to receive white men with courtesy. I saw they were working themselves up for mischief, so dropped the spur into the horse and rode for it, when they came after me at once, leaping and prancing with their tails erect. I really began to think it was no joke, and that I should have had to put a bullet through one of their heads as an example. As, however, such a proceeding would very likely have embroiled me with the Kaffirs, I rode on. I saw an old Kaffir in a mealie garden at a short distance, so rode towards him and shouted; he rushed down to meet me, and waving his skin cloak, gave some tremendously shrill whistles. He looked like a demon forbidding the advance of his imps. The effect was magical; the half-wild cattle stopped, and I jumped off my frightened horse to ask the old Kaffir how it all was. He said that the bulls did not know much about white men and horses, and perhaps thought that I was some wild animal come to destroy their young. I must own I looked rather a rough customer, and my clothes were not in the best condition—but still this was too bad. I have, however, seen in our most public thoroughfares, men who might easily be mistaken by an unfashionable herd of cattle for “wild animals come to destroy their calves.” I mention dropping the “spur” which may require explanation. One only of these weapons is used in the colony and this single spur is buckled on the left heel, as, in dismounting and mounting so frequently as is here necessary, the right spur becomes inconvenient, and may scratch the horse’s back in throwing the leg over. The reason given is, that itisinconvenient, and also that if one side of the horse is made to go, most probably the other will go also.While staying at this kraal, I was visited by a Kaffir who had all the features of a European; he told me that his mother was as his forefinger, and then, pointing to his little finger, said that mother was a white woman, that she came out of the sea, and had been the wife of a chief. I was much interested in all this, as the white woman of whom he spoke, was without doubt one of those unfortunates who were saved from the wrecks of theGrosvenorand another ship, who had seen all their male relatives and ship-friends murdered, and were then forced to become the wives of the Kaffir chiefs or principal men. The descendants of these mixed people can even now be traced in some of the light-coloured Kaffirs of the Amaponda, the Umzimvubu, and Umzimculu; and it is not improbable that a small rivulet of the blood of the Howards may be even now flowing in oblivion under the dark hide of a naked assagy-throwing, snuff-taking heathen of Africa. Some things that this Kaffir told me were strange and curious. Memory here serves as a library. It is a book of reference much in use, and one that is therefore nearer perfection than can be conceived by those whose ivory tablets or ledgers daily record events.South Africa is an excellent country in which to obtain a knowledge of ourselves; solitude being so common and unavoidable a contingency that we soon become perfectly reconciled to our own society, and learn to argue and reason as though with another person. If we are worsted in this encounter, we have the same satisfaction that Dr Johnson had, knowing that we supply our adversary’s arguments as well as our own. An excellent and good understanding here exists between our outer and inner selves, and each individual knows his own respective worth.It is a land in which one’s value as a man is decided, in the unerring scale of trial, to an ounce. It is pleasant to know one’s true position, if only for a short time, and even if much lower than we have been accustomed to consider our due. It prevents us from making many mistakes, and deters us from undertaking many things that we could only blunder through did we attempt.The very slight knowledge that the bustle of civilised society permits us to gain of ourselves, causes us sometimes to commit grievous errors, that may render us ridiculous to the reasoning bystander. We may pride and plume ourselves on merits and qualities that we do not really possess, but that only exist in idea, caused by the flattering of ourfriends, or some chance of fortune. We then have a way of reposing, with a self-satisfied and complacent air, on imaginary laurels that we never have culled, and, did we but really know ourselves, might be perfectly certain we never should.An Englishman has such a just appreciation of what is true and genuine, that I am sure he would be delighted at having his perfections thus correctly made known to him. Even supposing he has for tens of years previously hugged himself with too favourable an idea of them, there may still be a sufficient time left for him to cram this real knowledge of himself. Even if he get but a smattering, still it will prepare him in a measure, and therefore make the shock less at that great trial at which we must all, sooner or later, have our merits weighed, and in which good fortune and riches will be considered as only additional trusts for which we shall have to account satisfactorily.So frequently have some of my most certain axioms turned out myths, that. I have long since come to the conclusion that Iknowabsolutely nothing at all.I have been put down so completely by naked Kaffirs and dirty Hottentots on the subject of South-African spooring, etc., of which I might otherwise easily have fancied I knew something, from having lived the gipsy-like life of a savage for upwards of two years, and during that time having been occupied night and day in the pursuit of wild animals, and gathering information from the natives—that I frequently now listen attentively and patiently to criticisms on the sporting proceedings of such men as Sir Cornwallis Harris and Gordon Cumming, oracularly delivered by gentlemen whose experiences have been gathered from watching the deer in Greenwich Park, or from knocking over a cock-pheasant in the well-preserved covers of their private manors. For I always remembered that these peoplemightknow more on the subject than the sporting giants whom they are attempting to vilify.Well do I remember on one occasion being the butt of at least a dozen Kaffirs, for no other reason than because I could not tell whether a buffalo had galloped or only walked over some hard and grassy ground, that retained less impression than a dry turnpike-road. How amusing it was to see them sitting down on purpose to quiz me, pointing to each footmark, that to my dull perception was little more than the scratch of a penknife, and then asking if I could not now see the pace at which the animal had moved. I was compelled to acknowledge myself a dunce, and to explain to them that my education in early youth had been in this particular science dreadfully neglected. They would then show and explain to me how I was to judge of these things in future, with a kindness and simplicity that were very beautiful.This proceeding is nearly a type of what takes place in civilisation, where it frequently happens that a man is politely sneered at because he is unacquainted with the slang or local joke of some particular clique, or does not submissively follow the habits and fashions of the reigning set. Human nature, whether black, red, or white, is very much alike all over the world; each to the unseasoned eye has its special peculiarities and prominent points of ridicule, and I doubt whether a Zulu chief andumfazi, with their scanty attire of strips of skins and bead and feather ornaments, would produce more ridicule were they to walk up Regent-street, than would an English gentleman fashionably attired, or a lady with looped and festooned dress and embroidered under-garment, at the court of Kaffirland.In every land and in every society, men are found who think they raise themselves, or show that they have unlimited penetration, by trying to cast disbelief on the statements of others, and thus endeavour to prove that they themselves are very wise men. Now, I would sooner be what is vulgarly called humbugged half a dozen times, by some man relating to me a falsehood, after assuring me he was merely telling the truth, than I would once cast disbelief on a true statement. In the first case, the sin is on the relater; and we merely believed him to be a truth-teller when he was in reality a bar. But in the second case we expose our ignorance, by often thinking that impossible which really exists, or we insult an honest man by doubting his honesty, and injure ourselves by shutting our ears to the reception of facts.On the morning after my tree interview with the elephant, I happened to mention to an Englishgentlemanof the sort that I have described, what a curious scene I had witnessed on the previous day. It was against my established rule, however, to relate anything connected with sporting matters to persons whom I casually met, but on this occasion my usual caution had left me. I was plainly told by this gentleman that he did not believe me. I was not angry; but as this was a person who might be described as so knowing that he actually believed nothing at all, I gave him plenty of opportunities to commit himself.There is an old saying, that “a bet is a fool’s argument.” It is, however, frequently the only argument that will convince some people, and it proved so with the person whom I have mentioned. I offered to make him a bet that I could prove that the elephantsdidcome to me under the tree, and in fact that everything had happened just as I had stated it. He tried to escape from this trial, but I plainly told him, that if he did not accept the offer, it would be an acknowledgment that he was wrong. The bet was made, and I was to give my proof.I called in two witnesses, and then related what had happened with the elephants on the previous day, taking care to give every detail. I then sent for a white man, who I knew spoke the Kaffir language very well, to act as interpreter, and also sent for my Kaffir Inyovu, who was up the tree with me. On their arrival, Inyovu was requested to state what had happened in the bush on the previous day. He at first said that he wished me as his chief to speak; but upon my requesting him to give his own account, he spoke nearly word for word what I had previously said. I then requested that any two Kaffirs might be sent on our spoor, and the tree examined that we had ascended on the day before; but my doubting gentleman hauled down his colours, although with a very bad grace, and acknowledged that he now believed the whole account.The money I intended returning to him, after I had proved my adventure to have been true, but unfortunately was unable to do so, because it was never paid to me.I recommend this ordeal to others who may be annoyed by such mosquito sort of gentry; it may not be quite right on principle, but is very decisive and convincing. I know one gentleman, however, who avoids this fiery trial, by asserting that he makes it a rule never to bet. For him it is a most useful rule, as he is so invariably obstinate, and at the same time wrong, that were he to fall into ungenerous hands, his obstinacy or his money would soon melt away, and I am disposed to think that the latter would be the sooner lost.

Monyosi, his brother, and my Kaffir Inyovu, were with me across the Umganie one morning, when we came upon the fresh spoor of a single buffalo. The spoor was very neatly taken up by Monyosi, who noticed it on some very hard and difficult ground, where it would have been totally invisible to unskilled eyes. The professor marked it, and, after following for nearly two hundred yards, brought us to several other footprints, all of that morning’s date; there seemed to be about a dozen in the herd.

We found that these buffaloes had entered the forest by one of the old elephant-tracks, and had kept straight on as though wishing to bury themselves in the most retired glens. They had neither stopped to browse or graze, but passed all the feeding-places with temperance and self-denial.

We quickly followed on their traces, and were rewarded, after journeying two or three miles, by finding the signs very recent: we were then only a minute or so behind the herd. We waited a short time to listen, and soon heard a slight rustling of the branches to our left, which showed us that the buffaloes were moving about. We turned back a little, and arranged so that we should approach them from the leeward side. Monyosi seemed to be more careful and cautious in his approach to these buffaloes than I had ever seen him with elephants. This, I afterwards learnt, was caused by his having been knocked heels over head and nearly killed by a wounded buffalo, some months before I made his acquaintance. I allowed Monyosi to lead, taking care to follow close to his elbow; the two other Kaffirs bringing up the rear of the cavalcade.

We were expecting to come upon the buffaloes at every turn, and each muscle of Monyosi’s well formed figure was seen as though strung in readiness for a spring to the right or left. I looked round to see if the two Kaffirs were following close, and upon again turning my head, saw Monyosi bringing his gun up to his shoulder. Kaffirs generally fire very slowly, and I had time to notice that a buffalo was standing looking at us about five paces distant, to take a quick aim at his forehead, and fire at the same instant with Monyosi.

None of us waited to see what was the result of our fire, but each bolted as hard as his legs could carry him in the particular direction that the path nearest him might lead. I turned round and made play down that by which we had approached, but fancying that I heard the branches crashing behind me, I dodged short to the right up a convenient cross path. This proceeding was only just in time, as I saw, on looking round, that two buffaloes had charged down the same path that I had first followed; one of them was evidently disposed to be mischievous, as he stopped and turned after me. Dropping my gun, I caught at some wild vine and quickly scrambled up a tree, and sought protection amidst its elevated branches. My position was now quite safe, and I could laugh at my savage adversary. So he also seemed to think, as he took but one look at me and trotted away.

Of the Kaffirs I had seen nothing since we fired: they had disappeared most miraculously. I gave the usual whistle, and was answered at some distance by them. They came to the tree on which I was perched, looked at me, my gun, and the buffalo’s footprints; everything was instantly explained to them; they shook their heads, covered their mouths with their hands, and gave a longw-o-w. After asking one or two questions, Monyosi advised me not to run again towards the direction in which a buffalo’s head pointed, but to dart to the right or left.

We found plenty of blood on the trail, and hoped to come up with our wounded friend. His hardened old constitution did not seem to have suffered much as yet; for four miles at least were passed over without our at all appearing to gain on this old die-hard.

We had entered directly into the bush, and had consequently to retrace all our steps to get clear again; it was nearly dark now, and twilight is scarcely a reality near the tropics, darkness following so immediately on daylight. The Kaffirs proposed our stopping on the trail, but I was unfortunately very hungry, and had a very great desire for a bottle of Bass and a beefsteak, which I knew awaited me at home; I therefore gave up the idea of a leaf bed, and voted for a return. We came along very quickly, and reached the edge of the bush after the moon had risen some time, and had given her light in exchange for that of the sun; she did not equal it, but she certainly made it as much like day as it is possible for night to be; we could see everything, out of the shades of the forest, quite as distinctly as by daylight. A large herd of wild-pigs had come out to have a peep at the open glade in which we were; they loomed large in the distance, and we mistook them for buffaloes; upon getting near enough for a shot, they were discovered to be bush-pigs. We shot a couple before they knew of our approach.

On the occasion that I mentioned of buffalo-shooting, while on my trip up the country with the Kaffir Inkau, he led on quietly and steadily, and at length stopped, and slowly raising his arm, pointed in the direction of a large tree. I followed his point, and saw a fine old buffalo standing with his ears moving about, and his snout in the air. I brought both barrels to the full cock, by the “artful dodge,” without noise, and gave the contents to him right and left behind the shoulder, when he sprang forward, and dashed wildly through the forest. After rushing a hundred yards or so, at full speed, he dropped dead.

I went across the Umlass for a week’s shooting with a Kaffir named M’untu; near his kraal there was some undulating ground sprinkled with bush, which was said to be visited occasionally by buffalo. Having one of my horses fit to go, I was anxious for a gallop after these wide-awake fellows. Starting at peep of day, I found a herd of ten or twelve grazing near a ravine; they saw or heard me from a considerable distance, and sneaked into the ravine.

It is curious how soon a white man’s approach causes alarm to the wild animals of Africa. Whilst a Kaffir can pass about almost unnoticed, the former is at once a cause of terror.

I entered the ravine, and by shouting and firing a shot scattered the herd of buffaloes in a few minutes; I did not get close to them in the ravine, but saw them topping the ridge outside.

I was soon after them: the country was undulating, with a little bush here and there. I yelled at the troop as they galloped along huddled together, and turned them from a thick patch of bush, for which they were making, into a large flat open plain with short springy turf. Here is the Epsom of Africa; a lawn of twenty-five miles, flat as a billiard-table is the course, the match is p.p., the parties are a stout little thirteen hands high pony with eleven stone on his back, and a bull-buffalo sixteen hands high with a feather weight. Now what are the odds—who will bet two to one on the buffalo? No takers! An even bet I name the winner. What is the opinion of the jackal, I wonder, who is peeping over the shoulders of his young family from out of the hole that has been his residence since the ant-bear who built it was killed last year by a leopard? What will the Bushman lay against theinthumba(buffalo) being dropped in the first two miles? This fellow does not care much which is the winner, he only wishes to see one or the other killed. From his hiding-place in the rocky crannies, he watches the race with great excitement. If the buffalo is killed, he is sure to fall in for a share of the meat. If the white man breaks his neck in some of the jackals’ holes or game-pits, it will be hard lines if this own brother to the baboons does not manage to have a good ride that very night on the saddle that theumlungo(white man) lately occupied.

Now they are all ready for the start,—great excitement in the crowd. Jackals shuffle and shriek; even the hyaena, that has hitherto appeared asleep, wakes up and gives an hysterical laugh; the vultures and eagles, from the top of their grand stand high up in the clouds, have a capital view, wheeling slowly round, in readiness either to gorge the flesh of the buffalo or pollute that of the white hunter. The hoofs of the horse striking on the ground act the part of starting-bell; the hunter’s approach is thus discovered; the buffalo whirls his tail, and the Umlungo bends in his saddle; and “They’re off!” would be the remark were any there to make it. But no, not a living soul is seen; all is earth, sky, and wild animals. One white man is the only thing bearing God’s image that is now within ten miles, and he is employed in fulfilling the ordinance that “over every beast of the field shalt thou have dominion.” The Bushman, on the distant rocky mountain, sees the race plainly without the aid of a telescope, and watches intently what is so intelligible to his experienced eyes, but what would be to some of our highly scientific savants’ visions like two indistinct specks. The fight weight takes the lead at a rattling pace, and leaves the eleven stone far behind; he trusts to his speed, but still thinks it may be necessary to keep those rocky mountains under his lee, in which to retreat, as a sort of nest-egg. Away they go; flowering geraniums and candelabra-shaped amaryllis are trodden down as though the veriest weeds on earth. “Cluck, cluck—click, click—nhlpr-nh!” Why is the Bushman so excited? Ah! he knows all about it; the buffalo has turned a little, and is now making for some old game-pits, with a sharp stake in the middle of each. Now, what a chance!—both buffalo and horse may be engulphed—all three perhaps killed! What a glorious finale this would be! Fancy the jollification of buffalo beef to commence with, and a second course of horseflesh, while between the mouthfuls a knife might be driven in spite between the ribs of the broken-necked white man, whose body would be lying by! What would be a feast of turtle and venison compared to this? In England you don’t know how to live and feast like a Bushman. Unfortunately, and bad luck for “Cluck-click,” neither buffalo nor horse has yet broken his neck. There is no one looking on to see how the horse goes,—no one to give another fifty for him,—no one to see how he crossed that old watercourse; and yet how boldly the man rides. He is not riding in this style merely to sell the animal: he does not look round to see if any of the swells of the field are watching him, and then for applause, or money in prospect, cram his horse at a stiff rail, at which his craven heart would not dare even to look were no man near. No! it must really be that the heart and soul of this desert rider are in his sport, and that he feels—

“There is rapture to vault on the champing steed.And bound away with the eagle’s speed,With the death-fraught firelock in his hand,The only law of the desert land.”

“There is rapture to vault on the champing steed.And bound away with the eagle’s speed,With the death-fraught firelock in his hand,The only law of the desert land.”

A streak of blood on the black hide of the buffalo, and foam from his mouth, tell a tale that he has not run thus far even without being distressed in more ways than one. Now they are near the Bushman’s box, who sits like a judge to see them come in. Hi! hi! here they come! there they go! Bang, bang! the buffalo stumbles; he got the second barrel in the ribs. The horse begins to reel in his gallop a little, but, being well held together by his rider, he has at least another mile still in him; now the hunter rides nearly alongside the bull, and it is neck and neck. What a change! tables turned! Truly it is so; the hunter is the hunted. The buffalo, with head low, is charging; the rider, steering his horse with firm hand, and a watchful eye on theinthumba, suddenly wheels, and, dropping apparently off his horse, steadily aims at his riderless competitor; two little white puffs of smoke may be seen, and a thousand echoing guns are heard, like a volley, from the surrounding mountains. The buffalo has had enough; he quietly drops on his knees, lays his head on the ground, doubles his hind-legs under him, and reposes at full length on the plain, to rise no more. The race is run; the Derby won by the thirteen hands and eleven stone. The prize is valueless as regards money; the flesh is given to Kaffirs who are sent after it; the head and horn are too heavy to carry—but the tail is the prize. This trophy, years afterwards, may be looked at by some Nimrod of sparrows—questions asked about it; and in response to the information that it is the tail of an angry old buffalo that was taken after a long run, and when the owner had been shot whilst charging, this hero may then inform you that he thinks that sort of sport must be rather good fun, and it is just the style of thing to suit him. The prize is of no value save to the winner. Who can paint the feelings that he enjoys, however, as he sits and contemplates this poor old dried bit of skin and hair, and looks back on the beginning and end of the run in which his hand, without aid, won it? Can it be that a single mind only enters thoroughly into a scene like that which I have feebly described, and that the memory has drunk so deeply of the details, stirring to itself, but valueless to others, that the mere look of the prize suffices to recall the scene. Is it not a greater proof of sense and of the power of intellect than arguing whether Brown’s conduct was right in submitting to be told that he was anything but what he should be; or in calculating what, ought to be the fair odds if the Middleham colt gives 7 pounds-weight to the b.f. by Sir Sutton,—or—or— Well, we will suppose it is a mad corner; it may be a treat to some, as sense and intellect are so very common, to have a little madness now and then. I for one am content to be thus afflicted every day of my life, as long as I am not confined in Hanwell, or prevented from roaming in thought over lands blessed with the sun and air pure from heaven, in place of bronchitial fogs, foul sewers, and gloomy skies. We will suppose that the eleven stone told, and the horse was beaten; no matter, we have no lost our money or our honour. We need not take a trip to the continent as it nears the settling day at the Corner; we have only to jog quietly back to the kraal or the camp: a day’s rest, and all one’s losses are regained, and disappointments recovered. Hurrah for the desert!

While riding about near some kraals, not far from M’untu Umculu’s, I saw a very fine herd of Zulu cattle; they are beautiful little creatures, looking more as though they were a cross between an antelope and a cow than merely common cattle. I approached them to have a nearer look, when they seemed equally disposed to stare at me. We stood thus for about a minute, when two or three young bulls came forward quite close to me; others followed, the first advanced, more came in front of them, and I found that I was getting regularly hemmed in by these curious gentlemen. I therefore turned tail, and walked quietly away; they followed me rapidly, coming in the most impertinent manner with their horns within a foot or two of my legs. I shouted at them, but it merely seemed to raise their anger, as they stamped furiously; they were evidently unaccustomed to receive white men with courtesy. I saw they were working themselves up for mischief, so dropped the spur into the horse and rode for it, when they came after me at once, leaping and prancing with their tails erect. I really began to think it was no joke, and that I should have had to put a bullet through one of their heads as an example. As, however, such a proceeding would very likely have embroiled me with the Kaffirs, I rode on. I saw an old Kaffir in a mealie garden at a short distance, so rode towards him and shouted; he rushed down to meet me, and waving his skin cloak, gave some tremendously shrill whistles. He looked like a demon forbidding the advance of his imps. The effect was magical; the half-wild cattle stopped, and I jumped off my frightened horse to ask the old Kaffir how it all was. He said that the bulls did not know much about white men and horses, and perhaps thought that I was some wild animal come to destroy their young. I must own I looked rather a rough customer, and my clothes were not in the best condition—but still this was too bad. I have, however, seen in our most public thoroughfares, men who might easily be mistaken by an unfashionable herd of cattle for “wild animals come to destroy their calves.” I mention dropping the “spur” which may require explanation. One only of these weapons is used in the colony and this single spur is buckled on the left heel, as, in dismounting and mounting so frequently as is here necessary, the right spur becomes inconvenient, and may scratch the horse’s back in throwing the leg over. The reason given is, that itisinconvenient, and also that if one side of the horse is made to go, most probably the other will go also.

While staying at this kraal, I was visited by a Kaffir who had all the features of a European; he told me that his mother was as his forefinger, and then, pointing to his little finger, said that mother was a white woman, that she came out of the sea, and had been the wife of a chief. I was much interested in all this, as the white woman of whom he spoke, was without doubt one of those unfortunates who were saved from the wrecks of theGrosvenorand another ship, who had seen all their male relatives and ship-friends murdered, and were then forced to become the wives of the Kaffir chiefs or principal men. The descendants of these mixed people can even now be traced in some of the light-coloured Kaffirs of the Amaponda, the Umzimvubu, and Umzimculu; and it is not improbable that a small rivulet of the blood of the Howards may be even now flowing in oblivion under the dark hide of a naked assagy-throwing, snuff-taking heathen of Africa. Some things that this Kaffir told me were strange and curious. Memory here serves as a library. It is a book of reference much in use, and one that is therefore nearer perfection than can be conceived by those whose ivory tablets or ledgers daily record events.

South Africa is an excellent country in which to obtain a knowledge of ourselves; solitude being so common and unavoidable a contingency that we soon become perfectly reconciled to our own society, and learn to argue and reason as though with another person. If we are worsted in this encounter, we have the same satisfaction that Dr Johnson had, knowing that we supply our adversary’s arguments as well as our own. An excellent and good understanding here exists between our outer and inner selves, and each individual knows his own respective worth.

It is a land in which one’s value as a man is decided, in the unerring scale of trial, to an ounce. It is pleasant to know one’s true position, if only for a short time, and even if much lower than we have been accustomed to consider our due. It prevents us from making many mistakes, and deters us from undertaking many things that we could only blunder through did we attempt.

The very slight knowledge that the bustle of civilised society permits us to gain of ourselves, causes us sometimes to commit grievous errors, that may render us ridiculous to the reasoning bystander. We may pride and plume ourselves on merits and qualities that we do not really possess, but that only exist in idea, caused by the flattering of ourfriends, or some chance of fortune. We then have a way of reposing, with a self-satisfied and complacent air, on imaginary laurels that we never have culled, and, did we but really know ourselves, might be perfectly certain we never should.

An Englishman has such a just appreciation of what is true and genuine, that I am sure he would be delighted at having his perfections thus correctly made known to him. Even supposing he has for tens of years previously hugged himself with too favourable an idea of them, there may still be a sufficient time left for him to cram this real knowledge of himself. Even if he get but a smattering, still it will prepare him in a measure, and therefore make the shock less at that great trial at which we must all, sooner or later, have our merits weighed, and in which good fortune and riches will be considered as only additional trusts for which we shall have to account satisfactorily.

So frequently have some of my most certain axioms turned out myths, that. I have long since come to the conclusion that Iknowabsolutely nothing at all.

I have been put down so completely by naked Kaffirs and dirty Hottentots on the subject of South-African spooring, etc., of which I might otherwise easily have fancied I knew something, from having lived the gipsy-like life of a savage for upwards of two years, and during that time having been occupied night and day in the pursuit of wild animals, and gathering information from the natives—that I frequently now listen attentively and patiently to criticisms on the sporting proceedings of such men as Sir Cornwallis Harris and Gordon Cumming, oracularly delivered by gentlemen whose experiences have been gathered from watching the deer in Greenwich Park, or from knocking over a cock-pheasant in the well-preserved covers of their private manors. For I always remembered that these peoplemightknow more on the subject than the sporting giants whom they are attempting to vilify.

Well do I remember on one occasion being the butt of at least a dozen Kaffirs, for no other reason than because I could not tell whether a buffalo had galloped or only walked over some hard and grassy ground, that retained less impression than a dry turnpike-road. How amusing it was to see them sitting down on purpose to quiz me, pointing to each footmark, that to my dull perception was little more than the scratch of a penknife, and then asking if I could not now see the pace at which the animal had moved. I was compelled to acknowledge myself a dunce, and to explain to them that my education in early youth had been in this particular science dreadfully neglected. They would then show and explain to me how I was to judge of these things in future, with a kindness and simplicity that were very beautiful.

This proceeding is nearly a type of what takes place in civilisation, where it frequently happens that a man is politely sneered at because he is unacquainted with the slang or local joke of some particular clique, or does not submissively follow the habits and fashions of the reigning set. Human nature, whether black, red, or white, is very much alike all over the world; each to the unseasoned eye has its special peculiarities and prominent points of ridicule, and I doubt whether a Zulu chief andumfazi, with their scanty attire of strips of skins and bead and feather ornaments, would produce more ridicule were they to walk up Regent-street, than would an English gentleman fashionably attired, or a lady with looped and festooned dress and embroidered under-garment, at the court of Kaffirland.

In every land and in every society, men are found who think they raise themselves, or show that they have unlimited penetration, by trying to cast disbelief on the statements of others, and thus endeavour to prove that they themselves are very wise men. Now, I would sooner be what is vulgarly called humbugged half a dozen times, by some man relating to me a falsehood, after assuring me he was merely telling the truth, than I would once cast disbelief on a true statement. In the first case, the sin is on the relater; and we merely believed him to be a truth-teller when he was in reality a bar. But in the second case we expose our ignorance, by often thinking that impossible which really exists, or we insult an honest man by doubting his honesty, and injure ourselves by shutting our ears to the reception of facts.

On the morning after my tree interview with the elephant, I happened to mention to an Englishgentlemanof the sort that I have described, what a curious scene I had witnessed on the previous day. It was against my established rule, however, to relate anything connected with sporting matters to persons whom I casually met, but on this occasion my usual caution had left me. I was plainly told by this gentleman that he did not believe me. I was not angry; but as this was a person who might be described as so knowing that he actually believed nothing at all, I gave him plenty of opportunities to commit himself.

There is an old saying, that “a bet is a fool’s argument.” It is, however, frequently the only argument that will convince some people, and it proved so with the person whom I have mentioned. I offered to make him a bet that I could prove that the elephantsdidcome to me under the tree, and in fact that everything had happened just as I had stated it. He tried to escape from this trial, but I plainly told him, that if he did not accept the offer, it would be an acknowledgment that he was wrong. The bet was made, and I was to give my proof.

I called in two witnesses, and then related what had happened with the elephants on the previous day, taking care to give every detail. I then sent for a white man, who I knew spoke the Kaffir language very well, to act as interpreter, and also sent for my Kaffir Inyovu, who was up the tree with me. On their arrival, Inyovu was requested to state what had happened in the bush on the previous day. He at first said that he wished me as his chief to speak; but upon my requesting him to give his own account, he spoke nearly word for word what I had previously said. I then requested that any two Kaffirs might be sent on our spoor, and the tree examined that we had ascended on the day before; but my doubting gentleman hauled down his colours, although with a very bad grace, and acknowledged that he now believed the whole account.

The money I intended returning to him, after I had proved my adventure to have been true, but unfortunately was unable to do so, because it was never paid to me.

I recommend this ordeal to others who may be annoyed by such mosquito sort of gentry; it may not be quite right on principle, but is very decisive and convincing. I know one gentleman, however, who avoids this fiery trial, by asserting that he makes it a rule never to bet. For him it is a most useful rule, as he is so invariably obstinate, and at the same time wrong, that were he to fall into ungenerous hands, his obstinacy or his money would soon melt away, and I am disposed to think that the latter would be the sooner lost.

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