Chapter Thirty Three.

Chapter Thirty Three.The first glimpse we had of Pieter Maritzberg was very pleasing. A spirit of freedom and sociability pervaded the very air.Several banks, newspaper and Government offices had fine, imposing buildings. The town is surrounded by beautiful hills and lovely drives. Here the camellia trees grew to the height of twenty feet, bearing their crimson and white, scentless flowers. Flowers grew in profusion without any coaxing, and the winter days were like those of our early spring.Owners of the handsome houses had some satisfaction in beautifying the grounds surrounding them, as everything planted tried to bloom at its best. The cactus plant, with its brilliant flower and rugged leaves, formed hedges, whilst vines clambered over lovely little villas that smilingly looked out at the passer-by.The hotel was pleasanter than any we had been in. Soon after our arrival we were fortunate in finding several large rooms comfortably furnished, where we lived in health and happiness. The restaurant near by supplied our table in our own dining-room, and Coolie boys waited on us. The service of the boys in a warm climate like Natal was a great relief. Our young Coolie, David, who attended to the household duties, was the prettiest boy in Maritzberg, but this was not to be wondered at after seeing his mother. Unlike the usual small, childlike Coolie woman, she was tall, with beautiful dark eyes, waving raven black hair, and dimpled cheeks; over her head and shoulders hung carelessly and in graceful folds the yellow handkerchief. How I wished I had the talent to sketch her as she stood, for “our special artist” was not there at that moment.Another characteristic thing we had to accustom ourselves to was ourwasherman. A black man would come and get the bundle of soiled clothes, and take it down to the river; he and his wife would stand in the water by a big flat rock, and with a stone proceed to pound the dirt out of our linen. We had a few dozen or so of garments returned, with laces bedraggled and holes knocked through the delicate fabrics. It was necessary to call in a sewing woman to make up a bolt of linen for new garments; but our experience was gained and paid for.As we intended to make this visit to Natal our farewell to South Africa, we spent much of our time in extensive rides to various parts of the country. We owned six horses and a light running two-seated Cape cart that served to make our excursions into the surrounding country delightful. Our leaders were famous hurdle racers. Our wheelers were famous for having been used by the Empress Eugenie during her sad visit to Zulu Land.She came in her loneliness to visit the spot where her noble son, the Prince Imperial, had fallen, pierced through by the cruel assegais of the Zulus, who had surprised him in the tall Zulu grass when hunting. He fought single handed, and returned backwards to his horse. When found dead it was proved on examination that he had met death bravely, having received every wound with his face to his black foe.We started one fine morning for a drive to some famous falls several miles distant from Maritzberg. It took half an hour to climb the long town hill, and we were on the downward grade when the brake of our cart broke. The horses were soon on a run down the steep, rocky road, and it seemed as if nothing could save us from being mixed up with the horses’ heels. No one uttered a word, but we soon saw that our only hope lay in keeping the horses in hand. The long whip whistled over their heads and struck the leaders a sharp cut, for upon those two horses depended everything; if they would only leap and jump away from their flying companions in the rear we were safe. The dear creatures seemed to know what had occurred, and they just lifted their beautiful heads and fairly skimmed the earth, going as far to one side of the road as they could, and then across to the other side, thus keeping the cart from rolling down upon them. Not more than ten minutes elapsed from the time we started on that downward grade until we reached the level road. Here a wheel came off, and down we all went, and the horses came to a standstill. We were only too glad to come to a halt, no matter how sudden.On our return journey we met two native witch doctors, with their peculiar musical instruments in the shape of a mandolin, and made by their own hands. Mr Watson, editor of the NatalWitness, was of our party, and requested them, in their own language, to dance for us, which they did, playing on their instruments and keeping perfect time with head and feet, and certain undulations of the body. The faces of the dancers grew more and more serious as the dance proceeded.Walking along the street one day I observed a tall Zulu approaching, dressed to his knees in a sleeveless shirt. He stood about six feet high, and carried a knob cane. As he approached the very earth seemed to shake under his powerful tread, and as he passed and breathed out an “umph,” “umph,” at each step, a cold chill went all through me, and I felt for the first time that the strongest pale-face was a mere child compared to this mighty black man. His physical force was so great that, as he passed, I felt as if my spirit had been overthrown by a wave of power.The very social people we met in Maritzberg aided us in making excursions full of interest. We were afforded opportunities for visiting some Zulu kraals, and in that way gained much knowledge of this remarkable people.Near one kraal lay three women on the ground, basking in the sun. Their dress consisted of the skins of a few small wild animals hanging from their waists, whilst strings of beads, glass and metal adorned neck, waist, and ankle. During the time we stood watching them they spoke a few words, consisting of vocal sounds and clicking the tongue against the roof of the mouth; but they never moved hand or foot, and rarely winked as they gazed at us. A stay in Africa would give to a sculptor ample opportunity for study from superb models. We might easily have imagined, as we stood looking at them, with their rounded necks and limbs glancing in the sunlight, that we were gazing on statuary in bronze. Cunning little naked children, with rounded little limbs and big swelled stomachs, peculiar to these children, were playing round them, but they are such timid creatures that as we approached they crept into the hole of their hut on all-fours.The known records of the race date back to 1810 and a famous warlike chief Chaka, who led his men to victory against both black and white, enslaving the former and driving Dutch and English back of the Drakensberg and to the sea. There are many students of native history who assert that the Zulus were originally from Northern Africa, and had fought their way through opposing tribes, down to the country they now hold, which teems with game, and is rich in gold and minerals. There are even those who say that they are the offshoot of an outlying tribe of the ancient Egyptians. This, however, must be merely conjecture, and, if the report contains a grain of truth, the early Egyptians have considerably altered in their physical and mental peculiarities during their three or four thousand years of travel through the equatorial regions.These Zulus, however, are exceptionally brave, and fight, as the colonists will testify, like fanatics or fiends.Their old military chief, “Chaka,” who fifty years ago was the warrior chief of Zulu Land, was justly named the Napoleon of South Africa. From a common soldier in the ranks of Dingenayo, he rose to be chief, and was the first to organise the Zulus into regiments, breaking up the old tribal system, and training them to the severest discipline. With but few exceptions his warriors were not allowed to marry, and were trained only for military conquest. The result was, that when they did burst over the land, and attacked the peaceful tribes in Natal, which at that time numbered about a million, these Zulu warriors reduced them to a mere flock of twenty thousand souls hiding in the mountain clefts.

The first glimpse we had of Pieter Maritzberg was very pleasing. A spirit of freedom and sociability pervaded the very air.

Several banks, newspaper and Government offices had fine, imposing buildings. The town is surrounded by beautiful hills and lovely drives. Here the camellia trees grew to the height of twenty feet, bearing their crimson and white, scentless flowers. Flowers grew in profusion without any coaxing, and the winter days were like those of our early spring.

Owners of the handsome houses had some satisfaction in beautifying the grounds surrounding them, as everything planted tried to bloom at its best. The cactus plant, with its brilliant flower and rugged leaves, formed hedges, whilst vines clambered over lovely little villas that smilingly looked out at the passer-by.

The hotel was pleasanter than any we had been in. Soon after our arrival we were fortunate in finding several large rooms comfortably furnished, where we lived in health and happiness. The restaurant near by supplied our table in our own dining-room, and Coolie boys waited on us. The service of the boys in a warm climate like Natal was a great relief. Our young Coolie, David, who attended to the household duties, was the prettiest boy in Maritzberg, but this was not to be wondered at after seeing his mother. Unlike the usual small, childlike Coolie woman, she was tall, with beautiful dark eyes, waving raven black hair, and dimpled cheeks; over her head and shoulders hung carelessly and in graceful folds the yellow handkerchief. How I wished I had the talent to sketch her as she stood, for “our special artist” was not there at that moment.

Another characteristic thing we had to accustom ourselves to was ourwasherman. A black man would come and get the bundle of soiled clothes, and take it down to the river; he and his wife would stand in the water by a big flat rock, and with a stone proceed to pound the dirt out of our linen. We had a few dozen or so of garments returned, with laces bedraggled and holes knocked through the delicate fabrics. It was necessary to call in a sewing woman to make up a bolt of linen for new garments; but our experience was gained and paid for.

As we intended to make this visit to Natal our farewell to South Africa, we spent much of our time in extensive rides to various parts of the country. We owned six horses and a light running two-seated Cape cart that served to make our excursions into the surrounding country delightful. Our leaders were famous hurdle racers. Our wheelers were famous for having been used by the Empress Eugenie during her sad visit to Zulu Land.

She came in her loneliness to visit the spot where her noble son, the Prince Imperial, had fallen, pierced through by the cruel assegais of the Zulus, who had surprised him in the tall Zulu grass when hunting. He fought single handed, and returned backwards to his horse. When found dead it was proved on examination that he had met death bravely, having received every wound with his face to his black foe.

We started one fine morning for a drive to some famous falls several miles distant from Maritzberg. It took half an hour to climb the long town hill, and we were on the downward grade when the brake of our cart broke. The horses were soon on a run down the steep, rocky road, and it seemed as if nothing could save us from being mixed up with the horses’ heels. No one uttered a word, but we soon saw that our only hope lay in keeping the horses in hand. The long whip whistled over their heads and struck the leaders a sharp cut, for upon those two horses depended everything; if they would only leap and jump away from their flying companions in the rear we were safe. The dear creatures seemed to know what had occurred, and they just lifted their beautiful heads and fairly skimmed the earth, going as far to one side of the road as they could, and then across to the other side, thus keeping the cart from rolling down upon them. Not more than ten minutes elapsed from the time we started on that downward grade until we reached the level road. Here a wheel came off, and down we all went, and the horses came to a standstill. We were only too glad to come to a halt, no matter how sudden.

On our return journey we met two native witch doctors, with their peculiar musical instruments in the shape of a mandolin, and made by their own hands. Mr Watson, editor of the NatalWitness, was of our party, and requested them, in their own language, to dance for us, which they did, playing on their instruments and keeping perfect time with head and feet, and certain undulations of the body. The faces of the dancers grew more and more serious as the dance proceeded.

Walking along the street one day I observed a tall Zulu approaching, dressed to his knees in a sleeveless shirt. He stood about six feet high, and carried a knob cane. As he approached the very earth seemed to shake under his powerful tread, and as he passed and breathed out an “umph,” “umph,” at each step, a cold chill went all through me, and I felt for the first time that the strongest pale-face was a mere child compared to this mighty black man. His physical force was so great that, as he passed, I felt as if my spirit had been overthrown by a wave of power.

The very social people we met in Maritzberg aided us in making excursions full of interest. We were afforded opportunities for visiting some Zulu kraals, and in that way gained much knowledge of this remarkable people.

Near one kraal lay three women on the ground, basking in the sun. Their dress consisted of the skins of a few small wild animals hanging from their waists, whilst strings of beads, glass and metal adorned neck, waist, and ankle. During the time we stood watching them they spoke a few words, consisting of vocal sounds and clicking the tongue against the roof of the mouth; but they never moved hand or foot, and rarely winked as they gazed at us. A stay in Africa would give to a sculptor ample opportunity for study from superb models. We might easily have imagined, as we stood looking at them, with their rounded necks and limbs glancing in the sunlight, that we were gazing on statuary in bronze. Cunning little naked children, with rounded little limbs and big swelled stomachs, peculiar to these children, were playing round them, but they are such timid creatures that as we approached they crept into the hole of their hut on all-fours.

The known records of the race date back to 1810 and a famous warlike chief Chaka, who led his men to victory against both black and white, enslaving the former and driving Dutch and English back of the Drakensberg and to the sea. There are many students of native history who assert that the Zulus were originally from Northern Africa, and had fought their way through opposing tribes, down to the country they now hold, which teems with game, and is rich in gold and minerals. There are even those who say that they are the offshoot of an outlying tribe of the ancient Egyptians. This, however, must be merely conjecture, and, if the report contains a grain of truth, the early Egyptians have considerably altered in their physical and mental peculiarities during their three or four thousand years of travel through the equatorial regions.

These Zulus, however, are exceptionally brave, and fight, as the colonists will testify, like fanatics or fiends.

Their old military chief, “Chaka,” who fifty years ago was the warrior chief of Zulu Land, was justly named the Napoleon of South Africa. From a common soldier in the ranks of Dingenayo, he rose to be chief, and was the first to organise the Zulus into regiments, breaking up the old tribal system, and training them to the severest discipline. With but few exceptions his warriors were not allowed to marry, and were trained only for military conquest. The result was, that when they did burst over the land, and attacked the peaceful tribes in Natal, which at that time numbered about a million, these Zulu warriors reduced them to a mere flock of twenty thousand souls hiding in the mountain clefts.

Chapter Thirty Four.It is not to be wondered at that Chaka’s grandson, Cetawayo, led his people to victory through so many wars, until the Zulu is called now by other tribes the “Invincible.” When a regiment returns from the field without bringing a certain number of trophies, or having achieved a great victory, it is publicly disgraced in the presence of the whole army, its leader put to death, and the regiment disbanded, to be distributed among other and more proved companies. In their kraals their laws are equally stringent, and the colonists declare that until the white man went among the Zulus, lying and thieving and immorality were unknown. They are polygamists. A man may not marry a wife till he has proved his valour on the field, can pay her parents for her, and can show to the satisfaction of his chief that he is able to support her. Any infidelity on the part of a wife is punished immediately with death.The Zulu war, although three years had elapsed since that event, was still the chief topic of conversation at the time of our visit. It was a subject the good people of Natal seemed never tired of dilating upon, nor were we unwilling listeners. Many of the narrators recount their own personal adventures whilst serving at the front as volunteers, and there was hardly one but had lost some dear friend or near relative during the fierce and bloody struggle with the savage tribe. We had many a chat with eye-witnesses of the terrible field of Isandhlwana, where 800 soldiers were slaughtered by the Zulus, and fearful were the tales they told of the ghastly scene. Lord Chelmsford’s forces returned to camp on the evening of the day of the massacre, and the troops had to bivouac among the mutilated corpses of their comrades, fearing at any moment that the now dreaded enemy might return. Imagine the sickening situation of having to seek repose in the very midst of the fast decomposing bodies of their comrades. Some went raving mad.The Zulus are mighty hunters, and sportsmen are glad to get the assistance of any of their number when they make up a hunting expedition. One day we had quite a hunting adventure. Some friends had organised a day’s bush hunting, and invited us to join them. We accepted their invitation so far as to join them at luncheon.The spot fixed on was over twenty miles distant from Maritzberg. We started at five o’clock, provided with a span of four horses and a fine Cape cart, in which there was plenty of room for ourselves and our contribution to the luncheon. Our team bowled us along in fine style, after a pull over the town hill, which is four miles to the top, to the village of Hornick, where we stayed at the hotel for breakfast.There is a remarkably fine fall of water at this place. The Umgeni River falls over a high precipice, and although for the greater part of the year it is only an insignificant stream, the immense leap the waters take over the rocky boulders makes a very imposing sight. Having plenty of time before us, we spent nearly an hour beside the cataract, watching the clouds of spray and mist which issued from the lower basin. After the horses had been seen to, we started off, very soon diverging from the main road, and traversed a country covered with tall grass, which suggested “snakes.” At last, at half past ten o’clock, we reached our destination, on the outskirts of what appeared to us an extensive forest.We soon had the good things we had brought with us transferred from the cart to a grassy knoll, and our charioteer outspanning and knee-haltering the horses, let them wander away and graze. After having made all our preparations, we sat down on a fallen log, and looked around us. It was a beautiful spot; in the deep green forest convolvuli and other flowering creepers had formed themselves into fantastic arches, more lovely than art could fabricate. The silence of the secluded spot was broken by the notes of many birds, some of them almost meriting the name of songsters, while the air was full of the buzzing hum of insects. The cry of the partridge issued from the underbrush, and the voice of the lowrie and hornbill could be heard, while the rocks and branches overhead resounded with the bark of baboons and the chatterings of monkeys.Whilst we were dreamily listening to the forest chorus, we thought we could distinguish above it distant shouts of men, and we stood up wondering if our hunters had mistaken the hour, or had driven up by hunger nearly two hours before their time, when bang! bang! went a gun, less than fifty yards away from us. Almost simultaneously a magnificent bush buck burst through the thicket, breaking down everything before him. For an instant he stopped short, gazing at us, while we, spellbound, could only mutely return his stare; suddenly turning off at right angles, he bounded through our luncheon already spread on the grass, scattering the comestibles, crockery, and glassware in every direction.Just as he disappeared in the opposite bush, ten or twelve Zulus, brandishing assegais and knob-kerries, with a pack of howling and yelping dogs at their heels, sprang out from the underwood in hot pursuit. In the rear came our sporting friends, looking almost as savage as their Kafir allies, crashing through the thorn bushes, seemingly as oblivious of the scratches they were receiving as they evidently were of our presence. As they came opposite us, one of them dropped on his knee, and, taking rapid aim at some object we could not see, fired.The shouts of the savages immediately announced that the antelope was down. We all rushed in the direction of the spot where the barking and the yelping of the dogs told us the noble animal was fighting with his tormentors, and, scampering helter-skelter through the bushes, arrived on the field of battle. The buck was down, and almost hidden by the dogs which hung around him, growling and worrying, while over him in a superb attitude stood one of the savages, whose gory knife bore evidence of its having inflicted thecoup de grace.The other Kafirs soon drove the dogs away, and we retired to oural frescodining hall, before they should proceed with any unromantic skinning and dismembering. We had our revenge on the buck for upsetting our banquet, for he appeared on the table again later on, but on adish, and very nicely he tasted.

It is not to be wondered at that Chaka’s grandson, Cetawayo, led his people to victory through so many wars, until the Zulu is called now by other tribes the “Invincible.” When a regiment returns from the field without bringing a certain number of trophies, or having achieved a great victory, it is publicly disgraced in the presence of the whole army, its leader put to death, and the regiment disbanded, to be distributed among other and more proved companies. In their kraals their laws are equally stringent, and the colonists declare that until the white man went among the Zulus, lying and thieving and immorality were unknown. They are polygamists. A man may not marry a wife till he has proved his valour on the field, can pay her parents for her, and can show to the satisfaction of his chief that he is able to support her. Any infidelity on the part of a wife is punished immediately with death.

The Zulu war, although three years had elapsed since that event, was still the chief topic of conversation at the time of our visit. It was a subject the good people of Natal seemed never tired of dilating upon, nor were we unwilling listeners. Many of the narrators recount their own personal adventures whilst serving at the front as volunteers, and there was hardly one but had lost some dear friend or near relative during the fierce and bloody struggle with the savage tribe. We had many a chat with eye-witnesses of the terrible field of Isandhlwana, where 800 soldiers were slaughtered by the Zulus, and fearful were the tales they told of the ghastly scene. Lord Chelmsford’s forces returned to camp on the evening of the day of the massacre, and the troops had to bivouac among the mutilated corpses of their comrades, fearing at any moment that the now dreaded enemy might return. Imagine the sickening situation of having to seek repose in the very midst of the fast decomposing bodies of their comrades. Some went raving mad.

The Zulus are mighty hunters, and sportsmen are glad to get the assistance of any of their number when they make up a hunting expedition. One day we had quite a hunting adventure. Some friends had organised a day’s bush hunting, and invited us to join them. We accepted their invitation so far as to join them at luncheon.

The spot fixed on was over twenty miles distant from Maritzberg. We started at five o’clock, provided with a span of four horses and a fine Cape cart, in which there was plenty of room for ourselves and our contribution to the luncheon. Our team bowled us along in fine style, after a pull over the town hill, which is four miles to the top, to the village of Hornick, where we stayed at the hotel for breakfast.

There is a remarkably fine fall of water at this place. The Umgeni River falls over a high precipice, and although for the greater part of the year it is only an insignificant stream, the immense leap the waters take over the rocky boulders makes a very imposing sight. Having plenty of time before us, we spent nearly an hour beside the cataract, watching the clouds of spray and mist which issued from the lower basin. After the horses had been seen to, we started off, very soon diverging from the main road, and traversed a country covered with tall grass, which suggested “snakes.” At last, at half past ten o’clock, we reached our destination, on the outskirts of what appeared to us an extensive forest.

We soon had the good things we had brought with us transferred from the cart to a grassy knoll, and our charioteer outspanning and knee-haltering the horses, let them wander away and graze. After having made all our preparations, we sat down on a fallen log, and looked around us. It was a beautiful spot; in the deep green forest convolvuli and other flowering creepers had formed themselves into fantastic arches, more lovely than art could fabricate. The silence of the secluded spot was broken by the notes of many birds, some of them almost meriting the name of songsters, while the air was full of the buzzing hum of insects. The cry of the partridge issued from the underbrush, and the voice of the lowrie and hornbill could be heard, while the rocks and branches overhead resounded with the bark of baboons and the chatterings of monkeys.

Whilst we were dreamily listening to the forest chorus, we thought we could distinguish above it distant shouts of men, and we stood up wondering if our hunters had mistaken the hour, or had driven up by hunger nearly two hours before their time, when bang! bang! went a gun, less than fifty yards away from us. Almost simultaneously a magnificent bush buck burst through the thicket, breaking down everything before him. For an instant he stopped short, gazing at us, while we, spellbound, could only mutely return his stare; suddenly turning off at right angles, he bounded through our luncheon already spread on the grass, scattering the comestibles, crockery, and glassware in every direction.

Just as he disappeared in the opposite bush, ten or twelve Zulus, brandishing assegais and knob-kerries, with a pack of howling and yelping dogs at their heels, sprang out from the underwood in hot pursuit. In the rear came our sporting friends, looking almost as savage as their Kafir allies, crashing through the thorn bushes, seemingly as oblivious of the scratches they were receiving as they evidently were of our presence. As they came opposite us, one of them dropped on his knee, and, taking rapid aim at some object we could not see, fired.

The shouts of the savages immediately announced that the antelope was down. We all rushed in the direction of the spot where the barking and the yelping of the dogs told us the noble animal was fighting with his tormentors, and, scampering helter-skelter through the bushes, arrived on the field of battle. The buck was down, and almost hidden by the dogs which hung around him, growling and worrying, while over him in a superb attitude stood one of the savages, whose gory knife bore evidence of its having inflicted thecoup de grace.

The other Kafirs soon drove the dogs away, and we retired to oural frescodining hall, before they should proceed with any unromantic skinning and dismembering. We had our revenge on the buck for upsetting our banquet, for he appeared on the table again later on, but on adish, and very nicely he tasted.

Chapter Thirty Five.The late Bishop Colenso, famous for his disputations on the Old Testament and also as an arithmetician, was greatly beloved among the Zulus. They went to the bishop as to a friend for counsel in political matters, when they would not listen to the governor or any British official. His body when carried to the grave was followed by thousands of his savage friends. Many of them had never been in a town before, but came to attend the funeral of the teacher they loved so well. The sight of the half-naked and wild-looking mourners was a very striking one. We started early one pleasant Sabbath morning for Edendale, a missionary station about ten miles from Maritzberg. As we were sitting under the trees enjoying the lovely day, there arose from the chapel near by a sound of voices singing one of Sankey’s sacred songs in the Kafir language.It seemed as if we were now hearing it sung with all its true pathos for the first time. The voices of the women, pitched in a very high key, wailed it out on the air, whilst the men’s voices rolled out like the swell of a rich but subdued organ, in pedal tones, and all breathed now soft, now low, in singularly perfect time. We then strolled up to the church, and listened to a sermon by a missionary, which was translated by a black man at his side.The houses, with farms attached, of these people, which we passed in walking through the settlement, were similar to the homes of the industrious civilised American negro. Very little encouragement on mission work could be gained from our colonial friends. Many cases were cited by them to prove that the religious beliefs of the white man do not throw any whiter rays of new light upon the barbaric mind than it already has. A chief of one of the tribes in the vicinity of Queenstown went to England, where he received a good education, and it was expected that he would return to his people with advanced, thoughts. But he returned to his blanket.Then again we knew of a very exceptional case, where the son of a great chief went to England, and educated himself for missionary work, including the study of medicine, and returning to his own people did great good. This man, Thyo Soga, as he was called, married in Scotland a Scotch lady, whose sister we met on the fields. She said that there never was a finer gentleman, or a kinder husband, either black or white, ever born than Thyo Soga.He built a church and mission school, and worked among his people until stricken down with consumption.The Kafir is a perfectly healthy being until he puts on clothing and lives like the white man; then the dread disease consumption, clutches him and he succumbs. The well-laid-out reservation of the Presbyterian Mission at Grahamstown, with its neat houses kept by the natives, would seem to prove that they can be industrious and civilised, if reached after in the right spirit. Many of the Kafir churches that are met with through the country are self-supporting, and attended by neatly dressed and seemingly very devout congregations. There was much more social life in Maritzberg than in any other South African town. The ladies rode horseback a great deal, many of them being fine riders. The fashionable landau, dog cart, and basket carriage were constantly met with.We occasionally visited the theatre, where a company of fine artists from across the seas were giving a season of English operas, as well mounted and sung as we had seen the same works in London. On command night, when the governor and his staff of officers would be present in the boxes, and the audience in full dress, the house presented a brilliant appearance. The theatre is not as fine a building as the one in Durban; the latter was built at a great expense, and was the finest in the country.Many English, Scotch and Dutch residents in Maritzberg, combined with the military stationed there, made the town lively. It was a place in which we should have liked to have pitched our tent for a longer period of time. But after several months of life as intimate as we could expect to have in a foreign land, we turned our thoughts to our home in America, that could never be replaced in our hearts, and left Maritzberg for Durban. It was a bright spring day in September when, having packed our belongings and souvenirs, we stepped on board the steam tug at Durban which was to take us and several friends over the bar to the steamer. The sea and the weather seemed to have entered into a conspiracy to put on their most alluring dress to do honour to the departing strangers, and we steamed across the bar, the little steam launch puffing and smoking as who should say, “Aha! you’re going to America, aren’t you?—you’ve got some fine steamers there, haven’t you?—but look, see how busy I am, what a noise I make, and how recklessly I brave the dangers of the sand-bar, which those big fellows outside dare not tackle.”All animate and inanimate nature seemed to smile on us and bid us God speed, and as we climbed up the ladder that led up the side of the good shipAsiatic, and emerged on her deck, we registered a vow to return some day to the land of sand and sunshine.Soon after our arrival on board the bell sounded for strangers to leave the ship, and the time came to say good-by to the good friends who had accompanied us on board. Leave-taking had become a familiar occupation with us, but yet we never seemed to overcome the misty feeling in the eyes when the time came to say the one word “Good-bye.”The steamer left her moorings at four o’clock, and soon the bluff, and the many points around it which we had explored, faded away far astern, the stars came out, and the old well-known thump of the steamer’s engine began to make us realise that we were going Home.The voyage around the coast has been already described. At Fort Elizabeth we were transhipped into the palatial mail steamerMoor, in which we were to make the journey to England. From the steamship we had a splendid view of the town of Port Elizabeth, built as it is on the hill, which rises quite from the beach. Almost every house could be seen distinctly, and every walk and spot that had become so pleasantly familiar to us, during our stay, we could trace without the aid of a glass.We learned that the railroad to Kimberley had been finished. There is now no limit to the ambition of the inhabitants of Port Elizabeth. On the way to Cape Town we called at Mossel Bay, a picturesque little seaport lying midway between Algoa and Table Bays. Georgetown, thirty-six miles away, is the prettiest place in the Cape Colony. The Kinyena Forest, which stretches away to the bay, is one of the few really large forests in South Africa. In it elephants and rhinoceri still roam, and buffaloes, leopards, and every variety of antelope are found, while from its thickets come most of the hard-wood lumber used for the wagon-making districts of the colony.After six days’ steaming from Durban we put into Cape Town docks, and the mighty Table Mountain once more frowned down on us. We wandered for the last time through the town. We called on many of the acquaintances we had made on our first arrival in the country. We had been followed with much interest on our travels.How our journeys came back to us, and the many happy months passed in South Africa as we saw the purple cloud we knew was the last glimpse we should have of Table Mountain or South Africa slowly fading away. The voyage to England resembled all other similar voyages in its pleasurable monotony.At last, after five years’ almost incessant travel, we arrived in Southampton with the satisfactory feeling that we had accomplished the object of our voyage. Our expedition to the Antipodes in search of health was a success. Our invalid was returning home a healthy, happy, contented wife. What was there for us to ask for more?We left the ship at Southampton and went on by rail, and soon the familiar smoky fog which overhangs the monster London received us.Here our journey ends, for London and New York nowadays are only “across the way.”

The late Bishop Colenso, famous for his disputations on the Old Testament and also as an arithmetician, was greatly beloved among the Zulus. They went to the bishop as to a friend for counsel in political matters, when they would not listen to the governor or any British official. His body when carried to the grave was followed by thousands of his savage friends. Many of them had never been in a town before, but came to attend the funeral of the teacher they loved so well. The sight of the half-naked and wild-looking mourners was a very striking one. We started early one pleasant Sabbath morning for Edendale, a missionary station about ten miles from Maritzberg. As we were sitting under the trees enjoying the lovely day, there arose from the chapel near by a sound of voices singing one of Sankey’s sacred songs in the Kafir language.

It seemed as if we were now hearing it sung with all its true pathos for the first time. The voices of the women, pitched in a very high key, wailed it out on the air, whilst the men’s voices rolled out like the swell of a rich but subdued organ, in pedal tones, and all breathed now soft, now low, in singularly perfect time. We then strolled up to the church, and listened to a sermon by a missionary, which was translated by a black man at his side.

The houses, with farms attached, of these people, which we passed in walking through the settlement, were similar to the homes of the industrious civilised American negro. Very little encouragement on mission work could be gained from our colonial friends. Many cases were cited by them to prove that the religious beliefs of the white man do not throw any whiter rays of new light upon the barbaric mind than it already has. A chief of one of the tribes in the vicinity of Queenstown went to England, where he received a good education, and it was expected that he would return to his people with advanced, thoughts. But he returned to his blanket.

Then again we knew of a very exceptional case, where the son of a great chief went to England, and educated himself for missionary work, including the study of medicine, and returning to his own people did great good. This man, Thyo Soga, as he was called, married in Scotland a Scotch lady, whose sister we met on the fields. She said that there never was a finer gentleman, or a kinder husband, either black or white, ever born than Thyo Soga.

He built a church and mission school, and worked among his people until stricken down with consumption.

The Kafir is a perfectly healthy being until he puts on clothing and lives like the white man; then the dread disease consumption, clutches him and he succumbs. The well-laid-out reservation of the Presbyterian Mission at Grahamstown, with its neat houses kept by the natives, would seem to prove that they can be industrious and civilised, if reached after in the right spirit. Many of the Kafir churches that are met with through the country are self-supporting, and attended by neatly dressed and seemingly very devout congregations. There was much more social life in Maritzberg than in any other South African town. The ladies rode horseback a great deal, many of them being fine riders. The fashionable landau, dog cart, and basket carriage were constantly met with.

We occasionally visited the theatre, where a company of fine artists from across the seas were giving a season of English operas, as well mounted and sung as we had seen the same works in London. On command night, when the governor and his staff of officers would be present in the boxes, and the audience in full dress, the house presented a brilliant appearance. The theatre is not as fine a building as the one in Durban; the latter was built at a great expense, and was the finest in the country.

Many English, Scotch and Dutch residents in Maritzberg, combined with the military stationed there, made the town lively. It was a place in which we should have liked to have pitched our tent for a longer period of time. But after several months of life as intimate as we could expect to have in a foreign land, we turned our thoughts to our home in America, that could never be replaced in our hearts, and left Maritzberg for Durban. It was a bright spring day in September when, having packed our belongings and souvenirs, we stepped on board the steam tug at Durban which was to take us and several friends over the bar to the steamer. The sea and the weather seemed to have entered into a conspiracy to put on their most alluring dress to do honour to the departing strangers, and we steamed across the bar, the little steam launch puffing and smoking as who should say, “Aha! you’re going to America, aren’t you?—you’ve got some fine steamers there, haven’t you?—but look, see how busy I am, what a noise I make, and how recklessly I brave the dangers of the sand-bar, which those big fellows outside dare not tackle.”

All animate and inanimate nature seemed to smile on us and bid us God speed, and as we climbed up the ladder that led up the side of the good shipAsiatic, and emerged on her deck, we registered a vow to return some day to the land of sand and sunshine.

Soon after our arrival on board the bell sounded for strangers to leave the ship, and the time came to say good-by to the good friends who had accompanied us on board. Leave-taking had become a familiar occupation with us, but yet we never seemed to overcome the misty feeling in the eyes when the time came to say the one word “Good-bye.”

The steamer left her moorings at four o’clock, and soon the bluff, and the many points around it which we had explored, faded away far astern, the stars came out, and the old well-known thump of the steamer’s engine began to make us realise that we were going Home.

The voyage around the coast has been already described. At Fort Elizabeth we were transhipped into the palatial mail steamerMoor, in which we were to make the journey to England. From the steamship we had a splendid view of the town of Port Elizabeth, built as it is on the hill, which rises quite from the beach. Almost every house could be seen distinctly, and every walk and spot that had become so pleasantly familiar to us, during our stay, we could trace without the aid of a glass.

We learned that the railroad to Kimberley had been finished. There is now no limit to the ambition of the inhabitants of Port Elizabeth. On the way to Cape Town we called at Mossel Bay, a picturesque little seaport lying midway between Algoa and Table Bays. Georgetown, thirty-six miles away, is the prettiest place in the Cape Colony. The Kinyena Forest, which stretches away to the bay, is one of the few really large forests in South Africa. In it elephants and rhinoceri still roam, and buffaloes, leopards, and every variety of antelope are found, while from its thickets come most of the hard-wood lumber used for the wagon-making districts of the colony.

After six days’ steaming from Durban we put into Cape Town docks, and the mighty Table Mountain once more frowned down on us. We wandered for the last time through the town. We called on many of the acquaintances we had made on our first arrival in the country. We had been followed with much interest on our travels.

How our journeys came back to us, and the many happy months passed in South Africa as we saw the purple cloud we knew was the last glimpse we should have of Table Mountain or South Africa slowly fading away. The voyage to England resembled all other similar voyages in its pleasurable monotony.

At last, after five years’ almost incessant travel, we arrived in Southampton with the satisfactory feeling that we had accomplished the object of our voyage. Our expedition to the Antipodes in search of health was a success. Our invalid was returning home a healthy, happy, contented wife. What was there for us to ask for more?

We left the ship at Southampton and went on by rail, and soon the familiar smoky fog which overhangs the monster London received us.

Here our journey ends, for London and New York nowadays are only “across the way.”

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