Sporting Scenes amongst the Kaffirs of South Africa Part 13

It was true enough that, should this have happened, we certainly should have followed and captured the mutineers. So the amba.s.sador 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, "The _men_ stop in all day; the _women_ go 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 a.s.signed for this act being that their ancestors' land, hallowed by victories and a.s.sociations, 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 natural _amor 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?

_Might_ it not have been Umnini's own wish that caused him to quit the land on which he had dwelt for half a century? _Could_ it 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 that _though hundreds of moons_ had 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, he _willingly_ quitted 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; _children_ in 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 are _men_ in physical and mental powers; _men_ in 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 va.s.sals, 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 grat.i.tude for their services, I cannot refrain from making known the rough and th.o.r.n.y 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 pa.s.sed 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 long _w-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 const.i.tution did not seem to have suffered much as yet; for four miles at least were pa.s.sed 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 Ba.s.s 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 c.o.c.k, 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 Umla.s.s 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 pa.s.s 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 the _inthumba_ (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 the _umlungo_ (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. .h.i.therto 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 G.o.d'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 the _inthumba_, suddenly wheels, and, dropping apparently off his horse, steadily aims at his riderless compet.i.tor; 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 it _is_ inconvenient, 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 the _Grosvenor_ and 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 princ.i.p.al 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 a.s.sagy-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.