CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

We went to the Central Hotel. On the second day after our arrival, the wife of a physician of the town called and invited us to dine with them on the following day, Sunday. We did so and made the acquaintance of the excellent Doctor and his little family of interesting children. She then invited us to make her house our home during our stay, and overwhelmed us with kindness.

Unless you have been in a strange land, away from kindred and all who know your people, you can never know the deep happiness it gives to meet with kindness from an utter stranger, as this charming woman was, and to be invited to a home as lovely as hers. After the annoyances and inconveniences of the wretched inns, or hotels, as they were called, to find such open-hearted hospitality was like meeting with kindred in a desert land.

Most of the inhabitants of Queenstown are English or Scotch, there being fewer Dutch or Germans there than in any of the other towns we had visited. There are a number of fine churches and schools, with several newspapers and banks. The ladies of the place are especially social, and dress handsomely. The railway, which had been finished to the port of East London two years previous to our arrival, seemed to have given an impetus to trade, and it was confidently hoped by the burghers would increase rapidly the prosperity of the district.

After enjoying a refreshing season of home life, we said good-by to our new found friends and then left Queenstown by rail. Travelling by rail seemed to us almost a novelty after our late ox-wagon trip, and we could not help contrasting the new style with the old, not _all_ to the disadvantage of the latter, for we could not forget the delightful sleepiness of our inland voyage. We had a twelve hours' ride before we arrived at King Williamstown, the road passing through a very pretty country, pleasantly wooded, and varied by many deep and romantic kloofs. We were thoroughly tired of the stuffy "compartment" before we reached our destination.

We went to an hotel, where our wants were well cared for by a pretty little landlady whose husband was of a most jealous disposition. The town is in a region of country where there have been many Kafir wars. The military stationed there keep the place awake. It is the fifth town in point of importance in the colony.

During our stay in Africa we had taken many opportunities to practice horseback riding, and had learned the supreme delight there is in a firm seat in the saddle on the back of a well-trained, swift-footed horse. This exercise is especially enjoyable in Africa, where walking is unpleasant in the hot sun. One day we were invited to join in a paper chase, to a spot distant ten or twelve miles from town.

We were assured of being furnished with suitable "mounts," so we accepted without hesitation. There was a sprinkling of uniforms and a few civilians, and there were several ladies besides ourselves. There were also parties in Cape carts who followed the hunt by road. A cart driven by a rifleman in uniform was to convey refreshments for our party to the place of rendezvous. Presently the fox rode off well mounted.

The "scent" was slung over his shoulder in a capacious canvas bag. Time was taken and he was soon clattering down the road, the music of the horse's hoofs being accompanied by a ringing bugle blast sounded by one of our enthusiastic huntsmen. He was to have ten minutes start, and the interval was taken advantage of by most of our party to see that girths were tight and bridle reins in order. Our escort had placed us in good position to get away with the first rush, and when "time" was called, we were well down the road in front of the ruck. It had been arranged beforehand that the fox should keep to the road for a mile before making across the country; so at first the whole field were well together clattering and rattling down the hill at a pace so swift that good care was demanded on the part of the riders to keep the horses from coming into collision.

Down the slope, through the shallow stream running across the road in the hollow, up the rise on the further side, and away along a level flat on the crest of the hill, till many of the young fellows in uniform were shouting from sheer exuberance of spirits. We found ourselves borne along at a gait that sent the blood flying through our veins. The day was fine, a fresh breeze, which swept across the veldt, agreeably tempering the rays of the sun, which at that hour is decidedly hot. Small particles of the paper lying along the road and the bushes that fringed it served to stimulate our exertions, and the whole cavalcade kept merrily on till we came to the point where a large patch of paper, lying in the centre of the road, warned us that the chase had turned off.

Here the larger part of the field deserted us, preferring to keep along the road, which led in a tolerably direct line to the rendezvous, and take their chances of sighting the hunt from occasional vantage grounds. But all the more ardent sportsmen scorned to take advantage of the highway when the scent led them away from it, and twenty or more elected to follow the fox.

The paper led us for a mile or more along the upper edge of a deep kloof, which looked dark and forbidding as we gazed down into its depths, seeing only the tops of the trees, with which it was literally crammed. The scent had been cast with a generous hand, and we rushed along, feeling intoxicated with the exhilarating exercise and the glorious air. All at once our leader reined in his horse, and we saw the trail had suddenly taken a sharp turn to the right, crossing a small stream, and disappearing over the brow of a hill on the opposite side.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

With a slight feeling of nervousness we turned our horses' heads to the water, and hearing our friend's voice calling "Let him have his head," we shut our eyes, and one after another went at it--oh! Our horses were over and galloping up the opposite slope, we hardly believing that we had actually "jumped a river." So soon as we were over we looked back to see how it fared with the rest, and were almost disappointed to see that every one cleared the stream. We had half hoped to see something like the familiar pictures, in which half the men are in the water, some of the horses balking, others just dragging themselves out on the bank, while in the distance we, the triumphant leaders, were skimming along with the strength of the wind. Our friend laughed, and said that if we "lasted" long enough we should see plenty of them spilled before the end of the hunt.

The pace had told on the horses, and before we had reached the top of the hill most of us were willing to comply with the silent advice of our grey-headed cavalier, and pull up our panting horses for a breather. What a delicious gallop it had been, but it was not over yet. After resting for a few minutes at the top of the rise we started off again with fresh enthusiasm, a little steadier, perhaps, than when we left home. One of our party had a fall over his horse's head, the animal putting his foot into an ant-bear hole, one of the little treacherous caves which we seemed to find everywhere.

Our little party, however, remained intact, and we soon reached the timber, in which considerable caution was necessary in following the scent through the straggling bushes. Our escort dismounted to find the likeliest and clearest path through, our quarry, with the true foxy cunning, having laid the trail in just those places best calculated to bother a horseman. Fortunately the obstruction was not very wide, and we emerged on the other side, where we were cheered by a sight of the fox, nearly two miles off.

A yell from our party, intended to be a view halloo, greeted him, and brought the stragglers crashing through the bushes at a great rate of speed. Off we started again, now leaping a ditch or scrambling through a sluit, now crashing through bushes and stumbling over ant-hills. At last, however, we were forced to give up all hope of again sighting the fox, and philosophically jogged along the trail until we found our quarry lying in the shade of two gigantic gum trees, which, being a well-known landmark, had been fixed upon as the goal.

Feeling very tired after the excitement of the long race, we were glad to jump off our horses and find comfortable seats on the grass. Soon the roadsters began to arrive singly, and in twos and threes, and after a while our picnic basket was unpacked. We were glad to be able to prove the truth of the saying, "as hungry as a hunter." We spent the remainder of the day under the trees, listening to the stories our military friends had to tell us of their experience in the neighbourhood during the late Kafir war. We were in the Perie bush, which had been a stronghold of Sandillis' men for months in 1878, and many a colonist was killed before the savages were dislodged. We rode home quietly in the cool of the evening, very stiff from our morning scamper, but feeling that we had laid in a stock of ozone which would last a long while.

There are some very fine botanical gardens in King Williamstown, always kept in order and most delightfully placed along the banks of the Buffalo River, beside which the town is built. On returning at sunset one afternoon from these gardens, we were walking in front of four well-dressed Kafirs, evidently living in domestic service in the town. They were two men and two women. Suddenly they struck up a wild melody which thrilled us as we listened; one voice took up the melody, then the second voice joined in, then the third and fourth, until the song swelled into a triumphant hymn; the soprano seemed to be singing an octave higher than an ordinary soprano voice, but it was merely the peculiar timbre of the voice which made it sound so. The bass rolled out like an organ peal, and when the singers turned away from us to go up the hill, keeping on in their wild "hallelujahs," we could scarcely keep from following them.

The only music that can give an idea of it is to be heard in some of the strains "Aida" has to sing. Verdi seems to have thoroughly caught the spirit of these dusky-coloured people, which is a closed book to most of the white race.

Perhaps one of the reasons of the failure of many of the missionaries in their work among this peculiar people is, that it takes a many-sided man to comprehend a race whose traits are entirely different from his own. As a rule, the men sent out to Africa as missionaries are _not_ many-sided, nor do they possess that to them most necessary of all gifts, a _practical_ knowledge of human nature.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

After remaining a few weeks in King Williamstown we had a longing to see the ocean, and accordingly, one evening, took the train for East London, two hours distant by rail, and fell asleep that night to the sound of the waves rolling up on the shore. The next day we went down the steep hill-side to the beach, and played with the pebbles and pretty sea-shells, as happily as children with their wooden spades and pails. When the tide is out the rocks are strewn with wrecks, one of which we climbed upon, and let the spray of the waves dash upon us.

East London is rather a misnomer, for by that term people mean Panmure, which is built on the opposite bank of the Buffalo to the old town of East London; but Panmure, having grown up and eclipsed its elder brother, the old name seems to cling to it, and East London, the larger and more important town of the two, is indicated. It is very picturesquely situated. The Buffalo River finds its way to the sea at this point, between excessively high and bountifully wooded banks. East London proper is erected on the western point of the junction of the river with the ocean, while Panmure looks down upon it from the higher elevation of the eastern bank.

The town is rather scattered, but rejoices in some of the most energetic and pushing colonists in the country. They are trying hard to bring their town into the front rank of colonial towns, and are spending vast sums of money in the attempt to make a harbour of the mouth of the river, at present barred with sand. A breakwater was in course of erection by convict labour, which is confidently expected to do great things for the port, but so far there is no communication between the shipping and the shore but by means of lighters and steam launches.

There are three or four highly prosperous rowing clubs in Panmure, and our hotel proprietor, being a member of one, we were enabled to spend several delightful days in exploring the romantic banks and creeks of the Buffalo, which here resembles our own Hudson in picturesque loveliness. We remained three very pleasant weeks in East London enjoying the sea, and, after debating the question, we decided to go to Natal.

Our thoughts had been turned toward that colony for some time, as we had heard much of the beauty of the country. It is necessary to make the voyage by sea, for, although Natal touches the Cape Colony along the boundary line of one hundred and fifty miles or more, there is little or no regular land communication, the Cape districts adjacent to Natal being still peopled by natives as yet but little removed from barbarism. There is no highway from one colony to the other, and communication is almost entirely by sea.

The port of East London bears the unenviable distinction of being for more than half the days in the year almost unapproachable. The roadstead is quite open, there being no bay of any kind, and the coast facing southeast, it is exposed to the full fury of the worst gales known in these latitudes, the _South-easters_. On a hot summer's day we boarded the tender which was to take us only to the steamer. We were warned by the residents that it was rough outside the "bar," but we could scarcely believe them as we looked out on the placid waters of the estuary. We were soon convinced, however, for as soon as the little steamboat began to feel the swell which at all times surges over the sandy bar, she tossed and danced about in a manner which made us wish we had not started for Natal.

But we were in for it now, so covering ourselves completely with our rubber coats we did not fear the spray and surf that dashed completely over our little vessel as she blustered and fought her way, inch by inch, against the mighty rollers that seemed to rear up to drive us back. After several minutes of this we cleared the bubbling surf that boiled over the bar, and found ourselves in the long rolling swell of a heavy sea, which, if as dangerous, was not quite so unpleasant. We arrived alongside the steamer, which appeared to us, on our erratic little craft, to be as steady as a rock, so large and stately did she seem. We were told we should have to be hoisted on board in a basket, as there was no possibility of our approaching near enough to the vessel's side to get up by the usual companion ladder.

A huge basket was slung down, suspended from the immense derrick on the ship's deck, and into this we were unceremoniously packed, two at a time. Then we were quickly hauled up, our dignity suffering in the way we were "dumped" down on the deck like jugs of molasses, or Falstaff going to the wash. We smoothed our ruffled plumage with the consolation that we were "doing" South Africa, though it seemed to us at the time that the reverse was the case.

It was too dark when we left East London to see anything of the coast, but on coming on deck the next morning we found the scenery before our eyes. The coast from west to north-east is very little broken, and presents a uniform rocky shore, but the scenery is really beautiful. Hundreds of small streams, and one or two larger ones, empty themselves into the sea on the Kafrarian coast, and the kloofs through which they find their way to the ocean are veritable fairy glens in loveliness. The steamer here kept close to the shore, so everything was seen with distinctness.

The wonderful clearness of the atmosphere made every bold wrinkle on the face of the cliffs, the direction of the water courses, every curve of the kloof to be clearly discovered. One feature of the country with which we had become familiar was here conspicuous by its absence. No mountains of great altitude could be seen, the great ranges which run right round the coast line with one unbroken wall here receding so far from the sea as to be beyond the reach of our vision even in that rich and brilliant light. We passed Mazeppa Bay, the scene of so many wrecks that it has become famous, the great Kei River and many points of historical interest.

The captain told us that this entire coast was for a long time laid down on the charts nearly a degree too far west, which was, no doubt, the cause of the numerous marine disasters that have occurred among its breakers. Next day we sighted the mouth of the Saint John's River, of which place hopes are entertained that it will one day be made a practicable harbour. There is a small settlement here, and a station for the mounted police. From here we began to see many charming houses dotted along the shores.

The beauty of the country has tempted a great number of Europeans to pitch their tents here. Major-General Bissett, who has written several interesting histories of the Kafir wars, has built himself a house not far from Saint John's, which, with the surrounding estate, has every appearance of being a delightful spot to retire to from the busy world.

It was a Christmas day, 1497, that the great Portuguese voyager, Vasco da Gama, first sighted the headlands and bluffs of Natal, and it was on Christmas day nearly four hundred years after (it is strange how history repeats itself) that we Yankee girls landed in Durban!

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

Durban lies in a landlocked harbour about three and one-half miles long, and about six hundred yards wide. At the entrance it is--O South African Nemesis!--obstructed by a sand-bar which modern engineering science, fighting against nature, has failed to remove. The sand, however, is shifting, and at times vessels drawing twelve to fourteen feet of water can enter the harbour and come up to the wharf of the city. We were soon transported to the steam launch that awaited us, and, passing under the shadow of the great giant bluff which terminates the southern arm of the entrance to the harbour, crossed the bar, and landed on the quay.

The day was intensely hot, by far the hottest we had experienced since our arrival in the country. The landing wharves and custom-house are situated at the extremity of the northern arm of the harbour, and we had a drive of nearly a mile to reach the town. It was soon evident to us that we were in a different country from that we had just left. Natal is essentially an English colony, and bears a much closer resemblance to Australia than the Cape Colony, with its mixed European and African population.

The town of Durban consists of a long, straggling main street, which is about two miles in length, containing many very handsome stores, with a few cross streets to keep the longer ones in countenance. Few of the business men live in the town, most of them having residences on the Berea, a beautiful hill which overlooks the town two miles distant, on which the handsome houses of the citizens are seen rising in well laid out terraces facing the town and the sea. The entire hill-side is thickly interspersed with lovely foliage trees. The public park on the Berea is full of the most beautiful flowering trees and creepers, while so prodigal is nature in this favoured climate that the very paths are bordered by pine plants and orange trees; bananas, shaddocks, and other luscious fruits hanging in rich profusion everywhere.

The weather was so inviting that we spent most of the time out of doors. One of the first things that attracts the visitor's attention on arrival in the country is the black man, from the Hindoo Coolie to the powerful Zulu. The chief native tribe of Natal is the Zulu, whose records form an important part of colonial history. They are physically magnificent, tall, broad-chested, with coal black skin that shines like satin, and a walk that shows strength and power.

They are decidedly intelligent, but have a strong objection to giving their services readily and continuously for any sort of work, and are to be found in domestic service in the towns, on the beach and wharves; but one seldom sees any of them in the field.

The heart of Zulu Land lies within a few hours' ride from Durban. Though the country is crowded with native Africans, field labour is difficult, nearly impossible to obtain on any permanent arrangement, a trouble which forms another complication in the already sufficiently intricate problem of native labour. As a consequence, the colonists have been forced to import Coolies, so far with a most satisfactory result. All, or nearly all the labour on the estates is performed by imported Hindoo Coolies.

The sugarcane is largely cultivated on the coast line, the climate being almost, if not quite, tropical, and the vegetation to be seen by the roadside and on the distant hills is more like what we expect to find in Africa than the more temperate products of the old colony. The climate of Natal is one of the boasts of the inhabitants. It is nearer the tropics than the Cape, but the mean temperature is little above that in the more southerly colony; the winter is bright, with deliciously mild, cool evenings and nights, while the summer heat is softened by a clouded sky and frequent rains.

Almost anything seems to grow in this genial land, and many of the colonists, apparently more enterprising than their brethren in the older colony, have extensively laid out and cultivated farms. We spent a week at Malvern, twelve miles from Durban, where a Yorkshire gentleman, who had considerable practical experience in scientific gardening in England, and had travelled extensively in America, had turned his little farm into a perfect paradise. There is hardly anything edible in the way of fruit or vegetable, or beautiful in flower, that is not growing in profusion and to perfection in his grounds or glass-houses. In addition to acres of strawberries, pines, oranges, etc, there were several hundred vines of the Catawba grape, with which he intended to experiment in wine-making. He was confident of success, and certain that the manufacture of wine would be one of the future great industries of the country.

A number of very prosperous companies, with their own estates, mills, and machinery, are engaged in the manufacture of sugar, molasses and rum, while many private speculators raise, in addition to the sugarcane and coffee, tea and rice, and some experiments have been made with cotton. Some Parsee merchants have been attracted there from Calcutta, and in the quarter of the town where they chiefly reside the surroundings are such as would make a stranger think he was in the back streets of an Indian town. The Coolies make excellent cooks and capital nurses.

The processions of the idolatrous Coolies are a most interesting sight. We witnessed one of these parades which they seem so fond of making.

They were dressed and made up in all sorts of fantastic ways, carrying extraordinary models, all made of paper, of palaces, wild animals, etc, which they burn amid great shoutings and beatings of tom-toms at the end of the day's rejoicings. Their chief idol was carried in the centre of an escort of gorgeously attired priests, while round it were carried smaller ones. Fifty to one hundred grotesquely attired Coolies were yelling, dancing, and throwing somersaults, during the beating of the tom-toms and the general uproar.

The intelligent-looking Zulu, who, despite his philosophical appearance, I fear is not one whit more enlightened, stood still and looked gravely on. Such novel scenes as these, and the beauty of the surrounding country made our stay very interesting.

The northwestern boundary of the colony is the great Drakensbergen, which mountains are more properly the edge of the great stretch to the table-land situated in the centre of the continent. The aspects of this great precipice along its whole length are grand and romantic, and as the land at its foot does not subside to the sea by easy levels, Natal is picturesque everywhere. The midland districts have in many parts the look of the English downs; they are rolling sweeps of grass. The coast lines are singularly beautiful, with their round bosses, rich in bush and glade, while the shore presents a bold outline, with projecting bluffs thickly covered with jungle, and long stretches of lands broken by rocky floors and reef, on which the surf of the Indian Ocean majestically breaks.

A favourite trip for the town's people is to take a boat and cross the lagoon to the bluff, where the scenery is highly romantic both at the base of the great headland and inland. A forest of fine trees lies a little beyond the bluff, and here the sportsman may find bush buck, a large description of antelope, in plenty, besides smaller varieties in any number, and may also make the acquaintance of boa constrictors, python and puff adders, or disturb the slumbers of a leopard or black mamba before he returns home. Of all the snake stories that were told us in Africa, those of Mr Cato, our American Consul, were the best. He was one of the first settlers in Durban. Of course when the country was as wild as it once was, snakes had a chance they don't get nowadays, and made the best of their opportunities. A colonel in the English regiment stationed there, a very popular and handsome fellow, went hunting during our stay, and in alighting from his horse in the tall Zulu grass, stepped on a deadly puff adder, which raised its ugly hooded head and stung him. In an hour he was a corpse.

The personal experiences of nearly every resident were not so interesting as they were thrilling. One gentleman, who occupied a position of trust, and whose word could be depended upon, told us a snake story which I do not believe was exaggerated. He was alone in his house one night, and was awakened from a deep sleep by a peculiar sound. He listened, and soon had a feeling that a snake was crawling through a knot-hole in the bare floor. He lay nearly paralysed, the perspiration oozing out all over his body until, with an effort, he sprang up and over the foot of his bed, and rushed into the next room. He struck a light, and returned to see if there was any ground for his fright, and found a long, deadly puff adder lying on his bed which he had so lately vacated. We heard other stories just as horrid; it was a fascinating subject.

After remaining in Durban several weeks we prepared to visit the capital, Pieter Maritzberg, a town forty miles distant. It is connected with Durban by a railroad, which is being extended to the Transvaal border, and thence into the interior. The region on the right of the road from Durban to Maritzberg, after Pinetown, a town midway between them, has been passed, is remarkable for its fantastic assemblage of sugar-loaf hills.

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 our _washerman_. 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 Natal _Witness_, 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 the _coup de grace_.

The other Kafirs soon drove the dogs away, and we retired to our _al fresco_ dining 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 a _dish_, 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 ship _Asiatic_, 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 steamer _Moor_, 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."