Part 25

THURSDAY, MARCH 20.—Today we traveled from Kimberley to Bloemfontein, and the same polite conductor was in charge of the train. He not only gave us a compartment to ourselves, but presented me with a Zulu war-club which I am bringing home as a souvenir. When the Zulus go to Kimberley to work in the mines they are not allowed to take their war-clubs into the compounds, and sell them at low prices. The one I have is a fancy affair, and probably the late owner worked on it for two weeks. It looks as though it has been in action, and has probably cracked a good many heads.... We were compelled to wait nearly three hours at Bloemfontein for a train to Johannesburg, and dined at Polly’s Hotel Cecil. Mr. Polly is a model hotel man, and knows his business so well that his place is constantly crowded, while the opposition hotel, just across the street, and a newer and larger place, is almost deserted. It is surprising what a clever man can do to a dull one; if Mr. Polly wants the larger and newer hotel, my prediction is that he will have it in six months.... We walked about Bloemfontein for an hour in the moonlight. I like this town, because it is dull, and the people are consequently polite. I have always been accustomed to dull towns, and like St. Louis better than Chicago because St. Louis people are not so struck on themselves. Every citizen of Chicago is as badly spoilt as a pretty woman.... It being the night before Good Friday, which is a holiday here, there was a rush of passengers for Johannesburg, and the friendly conductor could not get us a compartment to ourselves. But I was quartered with two very interesting and polite men in a compartment for four, and rather enjoyed the night ride.... Let the passenger conductors on American railroads prepare to scream with horror and indignation over an incident I am about to relate. The train on which we rode from Bloemfontein to Johannesburg was composed of twelve coaches, nearly all of them used as sleepers at night. The conductor not only took up the tickets, and looked after the train, but he acted as porter in all the sleepers, and made up the beds. The crowd was so large that we did not get our beds made up until midnight, although we left Bloemfontein at nine o’clock. We paid sixty cents each for the use of the beds, when we finally got them. The beds were done up in separate bundles, two sheets, two pillows and two blankets in each bundle, and the conductor of the passenger train was compelled to take these out of lockers, and change all the seats into beds. He had no help whatever, and all the time he was at work, passengers were snarling at him in an impudent way. I have never before seen anything like it anywhere. At every station the conductor was compelled to go out to the platform, and, when the train started, he didn’t say “All aboard,” but “All seats.” Translated, “All seats” means: “The train is about to start; all passengers take their seats.”... After we got to bed at midnight, country boys were constantly racing through the corridor outside, and looking into our compartment for seats. We could not lock the door, and, although the train was crowded when we left Bloemfontein, we took on passengers at every station. In American sleeping-cars, you engage a sleeping-berth in advance, and after bedtime the cars are quiet; no racing through the aisles. Here you take your chance of getting a bed. A similar train on an American railway would have had a train conductor, a Pullman conductor, and a porter in each sleeping-car. The door of our compartment was thrown open a dozen times during the night, but my two companions, important mining men, were accustomed to it, and were not annoyed. The beds were narrow, but clean and comfortable; I had no fault to find except the racing of country boys through the corridors. There were three of us in a compartment that would have seated eight. I suppose the country boys had a right to chase us out, and demand that five of them be given seats in the compartment, but fortunately they did not do it, and we slept a little toward morning.

FRIDAY, MARCH 21.—We returned to Johannesburg at 8 o’clock this morning, and it was a little like getting home. We found two excellent rooms awaiting us at the Langham, as the proprietor expected us, and we soon forget the discomforts of the night ride. We found an invitation to dinner awaiting us at the hotel, and among other agreeable guests we met at this agreeable affair was Edwin N. Gunsaulus, American consul. Mr. Gunsaulus of course keeps in touch with American affairs, and he gave us a good deal of news from home. The consul is a cousin of Rev. Frank Gunsaulus, the noted American preacher and lecturer, and comes from a town in Ohio smaller than Atchison. Another fact that endeared him to me is that he formerly ran a weekly newspaper, and was editor, publisher, business manager, reporter, and one of the type-setters.... I may as well tell here of the reprehensible conduct of an American now a resident of Johannesburg. I refer to Isham F. Atterbury, formerly of St. Joseph, Missouri, but now manager of the African Realty Trust. I expect the American women to be as indignant over his conduct as the American passenger conductors will be over the treatment of the conductor of the train on which we traveled last night. Mr. and Mrs. Atterbury were also guests at the dinner, and the story I shall relate of Mr. Atterbury’s conduct I had first-hand from his wife’s lips. Mr. Gunsaulus also heard the story, and I called his attention to it particularly by recommending that, as American consul, he do something about it.... The story is as follows: For years Mrs. Atterbury kept house, and slaved, as American women do, in preparing delicacies for her husband to eat, in order that she might keep him good-natured. But human endeavor has a limit, and Mrs. Atterbury’s slaving for her husband’s comfort finally resulted in a collapse, and a trip to a sanitarium. After her partial recovery, they went to an English boarding-house, which Mrs. Atterbury declares is worse than an American boarding-house, to live. And here is where Mr. Atterbury’s baseness developed: _he ate as heartily of the boarding-house fare as he had ever eaten of his wife’s cooking_.... Although the incident happened years ago, Mrs. Atterbury is still mad about it. “And,” she added, in telling of her wrongs, “some people say I am a pretty fair cook. After that, I quit the kitchen for good, and have been boarding ever since.”... Their young gentleman son, Manfred Atterbury, is afraid to take sides in the controversy, but he did say that his father doesn’t pay much attention to what he eats; that when he goes to the table he usually carries American newspapers or magazines with him, and doesn’t eat anything at all unless his attention is called to the fact that the body requires a certain amount of nourishment.... The American women I meet here all say American men are more considerate of their wives than the men of any other nation. I believe that at home we men are rather unpopular as husbands, and that our conduct attracts a good deal of unfavorable criticism from American wives; but abroad we are everywhere toasted because of our devotion to our women-folks.... At the dinner tonight, an American woman said: “Another reason I want to go home: I want to see pretty girls again.” There are not many pretty women over here, whereas America is full of them; particularly in dull towns.... Another guest at the dinner tonight was H. T. Hofmeyer, a prominent Boer lawyer of Johannesburg, and who has just served two terms as mayor. He is much interested in American newspapers, magazines, books, and citizens. The ex-mayor and Mr. Gunsaulus, the American consul, were quite impatient with me because I had arranged to leave Johannesburg at 10 P. M. on Monday evening, whereas they said no train left at that hour. So we all took a walk to the railroad station, to get the facts. It turned out that I was right about it, and the consul and Mr. Hofmeyer walked all the way home with me, in explaining how they happened to be mistaken.... Merchants everywhere work the words “reduction” and “cut prices,” for all they are worth. Wherever we have been, we have encountered “reduction” sales, and merchants side by side abuse each other in the placards displayed. “This is a real reduction sale,” one placard read; “do not be deceived by false pretenses elsewhere.” One shoe store in Johannesburg displays this sign: “Shoes for next to nothing.” Every storekeeper thinks he is a public benefactor, because of his low prices.

SATURDAY, MARCH 22.—When I left home I was told that the name of this town is pronounced Yohonnesburg by its citizens, but I find that they call it “Joburg” almost universally.... In Durban, the best people ride in rickshas; here, these vehicles are used very sparingly. A law has been passed whereby their use will be entirely prohibited in two years. It is claimed that the ricksha men become overheated while running, and contract consumption.... A sign frequently seen in Johannesburg reads: “This house and stand for sale.” It is equivalent to “This house and lot for sale.”... I was out this afternoon with five Americans, and at 4 P. M. we went into an enormous place to drink a cup of tea. There were certainly fifty girl waiters, and hundreds of customers. The tea-room included a long balcony above the sidewalk, and similar places are very numerous in Joburg. I am told that tea-drinking is one English habit American residents soon acquire.... The ordinary natives work long hours here. This evening I heard a boss say to a gang of street laborers: “Remember that we begin work Monday morning at 5:30, not at 6:30.”... There are fourteen annual holidays here, observed by the whites as religiously as we observe Christmas, Thanksgiving, and the Fourth of July, but the natives do not seem to participate in them. If there is anything in having an abundant supply of cheap labor, South Africa should flourish.... Over in Missouri, many of the farmers have private graveyards. I find a similar custom among the Boer farmers in South Africa.... A big sign I saw at Bloemfontein contained this imprint: “D. Jones, writer.” Meaning that D. Jones was the sign-writer who made it. Near the Hotel Cecil in Bloemfontein I also saw this sign: “Hotel Cecil Toilet Club.” You might guess a week without guessing what the sign meant: the place was the hotel barber shop.... At hotels, I always hate to see the sign, “Fire Escape;” somehow it disturbs me. But the proprietor of the Langham thought up something more delicate; instead of the words “Fire Escape,” he uses “Emergency Exit.”... I am always meeting queer people; I met a woman lately who said she would as soon drink a cup of castor oil as a cup of rich cream.

SUNDAY, MARCH 23.—Johannesburg and Kimberley have experienced the usual high life incident to all boom camps. While great fortunes have been made, much money has been lost, and suicide is almost as common here as in Monte Carlo. Barney Barnato, one of the conspicuous figures in both camps, committed suicide at sea, by jumping overboard while en route to England. But his act was not due to lack of money, as he was rich at the time, and was just completing the finest residence in South Africa. The building is now used as a school; it was a gift for school purposes from the Barnato estate.... Barney Barnato came to South Africa as a circus clown; his real name was Barnett Isaacs, and he was a Hebrew. “Barney Barnato” was his circus name, and it stuck to him in the days of his prosperity, when he became a diamond broker, and married a “Cape woman;” that is, a negress. She was of light color, but so dark that she was never received socially. Kimberley and Johannesburg can forgive much in a woman, if she has money, but Mrs. Barnato was never forgiven. It is said here that she lived with Barnato before she was married to him, and he sent her to London to dispose of diamonds acquired illegally. Instead of depositing the money in a London bank in Barnato’s name, she deposited it in her own name, and Barnato was compelled to marry her to get his own money.... Barnato prospered greatly, and when Cecil Rhodes and Alfred Beit organized the great De Beers Consolidated Company, they were compelled to treat with him, as he owned many of the best claims. He was made a life director in the De Beers Company, and the evidence is that he was popular, and a good fellow. All the big interests here have holdings in Johannesburg as well as at Kimberley, so the towns are closely related.... In the days immediately following the Jameson raid, and just preceding the Boer war, Paul Krueger was an autocrat, and very unfair with the big English interests in Johannesburg, which is in the Transvaal. Krueger was then president of the Transvaal republic, and you hear it stated in whispers to this day that Barney Barnato, or some one for him, hired an adventurer named Von Veldtheim, a Londoner, to assassinate Krueger. In a quarrel Von Veldtheim killed Wolf Joel, Barnato’s uncle. Von Veldtheim was arrested, and while he was in jail, awaiting trial, Barnato committed suicide, fearing, it is said, that Von Veldtheim would tell the whole story when tried for his life. But Von Veldtheim plead self-defense, and was acquitted by the Boer courts. He returned to London, and again attempted to blackmail members of the De Beers Company. The English courts sent him to jail, and he is there now.... Cecil Rhodes was the best man of the lot, and he did much for South Africa, as he had ideals greater than making money. Rhodes was a bachelor, and, like many men of big schemes, a hard drinker. His death was due, I have often heard, to heavy drinking. He is buried at Bulawayo, in Rhodesia, which he placed on the map, and which is named for him. Alfred Beit was a financial man, and not a great deal can be said for him except that he was very capable, and accumulated an enormous fortune.... Of the original crowd of boomers, Dr. Jameson is about the only one still living, and he is everywhere highly spoken of. He was originally Cecil Rhodes’s physician, but had business ability, and, with the patronage of Rhodes, soon became an important figure in South Africa. It was this man who headed the Jameson raid, intended to turn the Transvaal republic into an English colony, but the Boers captured him and his men in less time than it would take to write the story. Jameson and his chief lieutenants were sentenced to death, and Cecil Rhodes, who really inspired the raid, got them off. This was accomplished by the payment of money to the Boer chiefs, and there was so much of it that you hear of Paul Krueger’s buried treasure almost as frequently as you hear of Captain Kidd’s. The row over the Jameson raid finally resulted in the Boer war, and the flight of President Krueger to Switzerland, where he died. There is still a good deal of friction between the English and Boers: an English paper issued this morning complains that at an agricultural fair to be opened in Johannesburg this week, only fifteen per cent of the exhibitors are Boers.... The week beginning with Easter is a holiday week, and the crowd in Johannesburg is so large now that tents have been erected in many places to accommodate the visitors. The streets this afternoon were packed, and certainly nineteen out of twenty were men. This is a man’s country.... The American consul told me today that he does not hear much of missionaries in this section, except of a few Mormons, who are unpopular because of the notion, probably mistaken, that they teach polygamy. We called at the consul’s office today, and were much pleased with the many pictures we saw there of American saints: Washington, Lincoln, McKinley, Roosevelt, Taft, Wilson, etc.... In going down in the elevator at the Langham hotel today, I saw a cheap book the elevator boy had been reading. Picking it up, I saw that the title was: “Buffalo’s Bill’s Warning.” So it seems American literature, which is said to be unknown abroad, is getting a start.

MONDAY, MARCH 24.—This evening we had six American guests at dinner at our hotel: Mr. Gunsaulus, the American consul at Johannesburg; Mr. and Mrs. Atterbury and their son Manfred, and Mr. and Mrs. Mark Cary. Mr. Cary had been at Capetown and Durban during our stay in Johannesburg, but returned late this afternoon, and drove direct from the train to the hotel. The hotel orchestra, as a compliment to our party, played American rag time. At 9:30 P. M. the entire party walked with us to the railway station, where we were to take a train for Bulawayo, en route to Victoria Falls. Our baggage had been sent to the station in advance, and we carried nothing except an enormous package of American newspapers: copies of the Chicago _Tribune_ and New York _World_.... The train did not get away until 10:25 P. M., being late, but our friends remained until we departed. I tried to coax them to go home, but they wouldn’t do it; when people are very nice to me it makes me as uncomfortable as when they are not nice enough.... When we arrived at the station we found a chart displayed against a wall showing that “Mr. and Miss Howe” had been assigned to a compartment large enough for four, and from the interest Mr. Gunsaulus and Mr. Atterbury took in the matter, I imagined they had a good deal to do with securing this very agreeable and unusual concession.... I should like to have the pleasure of entertaining Mrs. Atterbury, particularly, when she makes her long-delayed visit home. She has been away nineteen years, and if ever there was a true patriot, she is one; her enjoyment at being among Americans again would be worth witnessing. She is always talking of “going home,” and telling of the many nice people she knows there, and nothing would please me more than to assist in realizing, as far as possible, all her present expectations. Isham, her husband, has been promising a long time to take her home “next year,” but she now declares that if he doesn’t keep his promise by March 1, 1914, she will go alone. We spent half our time in Johannesburg with the Atterburys; in addition to innumerable meals we ate with them, they gave us one dinner at which we had four kinds of wine. So if her friends in St. Joe will let me know the date of her arrival, I will be at the station to welcome her.... Soon after the train conductor looked at our tickets, he proceeded to lug two huge bags of bed-clothing into our compartment, and make up two beds. We paid $1.20 for the use of the bed-clothing two nights; the charge would have been the same for one night. So that we will have a large compartment to ourselves two nights and a day, and pay only $1.20 above the regular fare. The beds were comfortable, though somewhat narrow, but we slept as well, I imagine, as people usually do on a sleeping-car. On our door and on our window were placards announcing that the compartment was reserved, and we were not disturbed during the journey. The South-African sleeping-cars are not at all bad, except that the train conductor has so much to do that he cannot keep them as clean as they should be. The conductor did not polish my shoes at night, but I knew he was very busy, and overlooked his neglect.... On one or two trains we have been on, there was a man who helped the conductor, but on at least two crowded trains on which we traveled, the conductor has had no help whatever in making up the beds; the most curious thing I have ever noted in railroad travel. There is a guard on the train, who is what we call a brakeman, but he does not assist the conductor in the chamber-work. When these conductors are taking the tickets, they are as haughty as are American conductors, but when they begin lugging in sheets, pillows and mattresses, they are as humble as the most timid traveler could wish.