Return Homeward
Return homeward — The lion and giralfe — A night scene — Terror of oxen at a lion — Inhuman custom — Search for water — A mother left to perish — Human depravity — Want of natural affection — Sagacity of the lion — The lion’s leap — Horrible position — Mode of frightening lions — Sufferings in the desert — Scenes at the water — Missionaries of former times — Itinerating fare — A scuffle with the lion — Night associates — Bachelor’s Hall — The author’s ward¬ robe.
On our route homeward we halted at a spot where a novel scene once occurred, and which was described by an individual who witnessed it when a boy. Near a very small fountain, which was shown to me, stood a camel thorn-tree, {Acacia Giraffe.) It was a stiff tree, about twelve feet high, with a flat, bushy top. Many years before, the relater, then a boy, was returning to his village, and having turned aside to the fountain for a drink, lay down on the bank, and fell asleep. Being awoke by the piercing rays of the sun, he saw, through the bush behind which he lay, a giraffe, brows¬ ing at ease on the tender shoots of the tree, and, to his horror, a lion, creeping like a cat, only a dozen yards from him, preparing to pounce on his prey. The lion eyed the giraffe for a few moments, his body gave a shake, and he hounded into the air, to seize the head of the animal, which instantly turned his stately neck, and the lion, missing his grasp, fell on his hack in the centre of the mass of thorns, like spikes, and the giraffe bounded over the plain. The boy instantly follow ed the example, expecting, as a matter of course, that the enraged lion wmuld soon find his way to the earth. Some time afterwards, the people of the village, wdio seldom visited that spot, saw the eagles hovering in the air; and as it is almost always a certain sign that the lion has killed game, or some animal is lying dead, they went to the place, and sought in vain till, coming under the lee of the tree, their olfactory nerves directed them to w here the lion lay dead in his thorny bed. I still found some of his bones under the tree, and hair on its branches, to convince me of what I scarcely could have credited.
The lion wdll sometimes manage to mount the hack of a giraffe, and, fixing his sharp claws into each shoulder, gnaw” away till he reaches the vertebrae of the neck, when both fall; and of times the lion is lamed for his trouble. If the giraffe happens to he very strong, he succeeds in bringing his rider to the ground. Among those that w“e shot on our journey, the healed w ounds of the lion’s claw”s on the shoulder and marks of his teeth on the back of the neck gave us ocular demonstration that two of them had carried the monarch of the forest on their backs, and yet come off triumphant. When I had the pleasure of meeting occasionally with the late Mr. Pringle in Cape Town, and mentioned some of these facts, his poetical genius instantly caught the image, and threw the picture into the followdng graphic lines, wdiich may not he unacceptable to those wdio have never seen Pringle’s African Poems.
“Wouldst thou view the lion’s den?
Search afar from haunts of men —
Where the reed-encircled rill
Oozes from the rocky hill.
By its verdure far descried
’Mid the desert brown and wide.
Close beside the sedgy brim
Couchant lurks the lion grim;
Watching till the close of day
Brings the death devoted prey.
Heedless, at the ambush’d brink,
The tall giraffe stoops down to drink:
Upon him straight the savage springs
With cruel joy. The desert rings
With clanging sound of desp’rate strife —
The prey is strong, and strives for life.
Plunging oft with frantic bound.
To shake the tyrant to the ground —
He shrieks — he rushes through the waste
With glaring eye and headlong haste.
In vain! — -the spoiler on his prize
Rides proudly — tearing as he flies.
For life — the victim’s utmost speed
Is muster’d in this hour of need:
For life — for life — his giant might
He strains, and pours his soul in flight;
And, mad with terror, thirst, and pain.
Spurns with wild hoof the thundering plain.
’Tis vain; the thirsty sands are drinking His streaming blood — his strength is sinking; The victor’s fangs are in his veins —
His flanks are streak’d with sanguin’d stains — His panting breast in foam and gore Is bathed — he reels — his race is o’er:
He falls — and, with convulsive throe.
Resigns his throat to th’ ravening foe!
—And lo! ere quivering life has fled,
The vultures wheeling overhead,
Swoop down, to watch, in gaunt array,
Till the gorged tyrant quits his prey.”
We were often exposed to danger from lions, which, from the scarcity of water, frequent the pools or fountains, and some of our number had some hair-breadth escapes. One night we were quietly bivouacked at a small pool on the ’Oup River, where we never anticipated a visit from his majesty. We had just closed our united evening worship, the book was still in my hand, and the closing notes of the song of praise had scarcely fallen from our lips, when the terrific roar of the lion was heard: our oxen, which before were quietly chewing the cud, rushed upon us, and over our fires, leaving us prostrated in a cloud of dust and sand. Hats and hymn books, our Bible and our guns, were all scattered in wild confusion. Providentially, no serious injury was sustained: the oxen were pursued, brought back, and secured to the wagon, for we could ill afford to lose any. Africaner, seeing the reluctance of the people to pursue in a dark and gloomy ravine, grasped a firebrand, and exclaimed, “Follow me!” and but for this promptness and intrepidity we must have lost some of our number, for nothing can exceed the terror of oxen at even the smell of a lion. Though they may happen to be in the worst condition possible, worn out with fatigue and hunger, the moment the shaggy monster is perceived they start like racehorses, with their tails erect, and sometimes days will elapse before they are found. The number of lions may be easily accounted for, when it is remembered how thinly scattered the
inhabitants are; and, indeed, the whole appearance of the country impresses the mind with the idea that it is only tit for beasts of prey. The people seem to drag out a miserable existence, wandering from place to place in quest of grass, game, or wild roots. Those I had met with had from infancy been living a nomade life, with one great object in view, to keep soul and body together.
“A region of drought, where no river glides. Nor rippling brook with osiered sides; Where sedgy pool, nor bubbling fount,
Nor tree nor cloud, nor misty mount
Appears to refresh the aching eye:
But barren earth, and the burning sky.
And the blank horizon round and round
Spread — void of living sight or sound.”
Among the poorer classes it is, indeed, struggling for existence; and when the aged become too weak to provide for themselves, and are a burden to those whom they brought forth and reared to manhood, they are not unfrequently abandoned by their own children, with a meal of victuals and a cruise of water, to perish in the desert; and I have seen a small circle of stakes fastened in the ground, within which were still lying the bones of a parent bleached in the sun, who had been thus abandoned. In one instance I observed a small broken earthenware vessel, in which the last draught of water had been left. “What is this?’’ I said, pointing to the stakes, addressing Afri¬ caner. His reply was, “This is heathenism and then described this parricidal custom. A day or two after a circumstance occurred which corroborated his statements. We had travelled all day over a sandy plain, and passed a sleepless night from extreme thirst and fatigue. Rising early in the morning, and leaving the people to get the wagon ready to follow, I went forward with one of our number, in order to see if we could not perceive some indications of water, by the foot-marks of game, for it was in a part of the country where we could not expect the traces of man. After passing a ridge of hills, and advancing a considerable way on the plain, we discovered, at a distance, a little smoke rising amidst a few hushes, which seemed to skirt a ravine. Animated with the prospect, we hastened forward, eagerly anticipating a delicious draught of water, no matter what the quality might be. When we had arrived within a few hundred yards of the spot, we stood still, startled at the fresh marks of lions, which appeared to have been there only an hoar before us. We had no guns, being too tired to carry them, and we hesitated, for a moment, whether to proceed or return. The wagon was yet distant, and thirst impelled us to go on, but it was with caution, keeping a sharp look-out at every bush we passed.
On reaching the spot, we beheld an object of heart-rending distress. It was a venerable-looking old woman, a living skeleton, sitting, with her head leaning on her knees. She appeared terrified at our presence, and especially at me. She tried to rise, but, trembling with weakness, sunk again to the earth. I addressed her by the name which sounds sweet in every clime, and charms even the savage ear, “My mother, fear not; we are friends, and will do you no harm.” 1 put several questions
to her, but she appeared either speechless, or afraid to open her lips. I again repeated, ‘‘ Pray, mother, who are you, and how do you come to be in this situation?” to which she replied, “I am a woman; I have been here four days; my children have left me here to die.” “Your children!” I interrupted. “Yes,” raising her hand to her shrivelled bosom, “my own children, three sons and two daughters. They are gone,” pointing with her finger, “to yonder blue mountain, and have left me to die.” “And, pray, why did they leave you?” I inquired. Spread¬ ing out her hands, “I am old, you see, and I am no longer able to serve them; when they kill game, I am too feeble to help in carrying home the flesh; I am not able to gather wood to make fire; and I cannot carry their children on my back, as I used to do.” This last sentence was more than I could bear; and though my tongue was cleaving to the roof of my mouth for want of water, this reply opened a fountain of tears. I remarked that I was surprised that she had escaped the lions, which seemed to abound, and to have approached very near the spot where she was. She took hold of the skin of her left arm with her fingers, and, raising it up as one would do loose linen, she added, “I hear the lions; but there is nothing on me that they would eat; I have no flesh on me for them to scent.” At this moment the wagon drew near, which greatly alarmed her, for she supposed that it was an animal. Assuring her that it would do her no harm, I said that, as I could not stay, I would put her into the wagon, and take her with me. At this remark she became convulsed with terror. Othei’S
Taie 13D addressed her, but all to no effect. She replied, that if we took her, and left her at another village, they would only do the same thing again. ‘‘It is our custom; I am nearly dead; I do not want to die again.” The sun was now piercingly hot; the oxen were raging in the yoke, and we ourselves nearly delirious. Finding it impossible to influence the woman to move, without running the risk of her dying convulsed in our hands, we collected a quantity of fuel, gave her a good supply of dry meat, some tobacco, and a knife, with some other articles; telling her we should return in two days, and stop the night, when she would be able to go with us; only she must keep up a good fire at night, as the lions would smell the dried flesh, if they did not scent her. We then pursued our course; and after a long ride, passing a rocky ridge of hills, we came to a stagnant pool, into which men and oxen rushed precipitately, though the water was almost too muddy to go down our throats.
On our return to the spot, according to promise, we found the old woman and every thing gone, but, on examination, discovered the footmarks of two men, from the hills referred to, who appeared to have taken her away. Several months afterwards, I learned, from an individual who visited the station, that the sons, seeing from a distance the wagon halt at the spot, where they had so unnaturally left their mother to perish, came to see, supposing the travellers had been viewing the mangled remains of their mother. Finding her alive, and supplied with food, and on her telling the story of the strangers’ kind¬ ness, they were alarmed, and, dreading the vengeance
of the great chief, whom they supposed me to he, took her home, and were providing for her with more than usual care. I have often reasoned with the natives on this cruel practice; in reply to which, they would only laugh. It may he imagined, that people might devote their friends, and nohles their first-born, like the Carthaginians, to appease some offended deity; and that mothers, too, should smile on the infants their own hands had murdered, from similar motives; but it appears an awful exhibition of human depravity, when children compel their parents to perish for want, or to be devoured by beasts of prey in a desert from no other motive than sheer laziness, or to get quit of those on whose breast they hung in helpless infancy, whose lips first directed their vocal powers, whose hand led them through many a weary waste, and who often suffered the most pinching want, that the babes whom nature taught them to love might be supplied. I have more than once handed food to a hungry mother, who appeared to have fasted for a month, when she would just taste it, and give it to her child, when, perhaps, that very child, instead of returning grateful service to the infancy of old age, leaves that mother to perish from hunger.
Conversing with the party one evening, when sit¬ ting around the fire, on the conduct of children to their parents, I observed that they were as bad as lions. They are worse,’’ replied Africaner. This he illustrated from the well-known characteristics of the king of beasts, or, more properly, king of the beasts of prey. Much has been written about African lions, hut the half has not been told. The following trait in their character may not be intrusive, or partaking of the marvellous, with which the tales of some travellers are said to abound. I give it as received from men of God, and men who have been experienced Nimrods too. The old lion, when in company with his children, as the natives call them, though they are nearly as big as himself; or, when numbers together happen to come upon game, the oldest or ablest creeps to the object, while the others crouch on the grass; if he be successful, which he generally is, he retires from his victim, and lies down to breathe, and rest, for perhaps a quarter of an hour; in the meantime the others draw around, and lie down at a respectful distance. When the chief one has got his rest, he commences at the abdomen and breast, and after making havoc with the tit-bits of the carcase, he will take a second rest, none of the others presuming to move. Having made a second gorge, he retires, the others watching his motions, rush on the remainder, and it is soon devoured. At other times, if a young lion seizes the prey, and an old one happens to come up, the younger retires till the elder has dined. This was what Africaner called better manners than those of the Namaquas.
Passing along a vale, we came to a spot where the lion appeared* to have been exercising himself in the way of leaping. As the natives are very expert in tracing the manoeuvres of animals by their foot-marks, it was soon discovered that a large lion had crept towards a short black stump, very like the human form; when within about a dozen yards, it bounded on its supposed prey, when, to his mortification, he fell a foot or two short of it. According to the testi-
mony of a native who had been watching his motions, and who joined us soon after, the lion lay for some time stedfastly eyeing its supposed meal. It then arose, smelt the object, and returned to the spot from which he commenced his first leap, and leaped four several times, till at last he placed his paw on the imagined prize. On another occasion, when Africaner and an attendant were passing near the end of a hill, from which jutted out a smooth rock of ten or twelve feet high, he observed a number of zebras pressing round it, obliged to keep the path, beyond which it was precipitous. A lion was seen creeping up towards the path, to intercept the large stallion, which is always in the rear to defend or warn the troop. The lion missed his mark, and while the zebra rushed round the point, the lion knew well if he could mount the rock at one leap, the next would be on the zebra’s back, it being obliged to turn towards the hill. He fell short, with only his head over the stone, look¬ ing at the galloping zebra switching his tail in the air. He then tried a second and a third leap, till he succeeded. In the meantime two more lions came up, and seemed to talk and roar away about something, while the old lion led them round the rock, and round it again; then he made another grand leap, to show them what he and they must do next time. Africaner added, with the most perfect gravity, ‘‘ They evidently talked to each other, but though loud enough, I could not understand a word they said, and, fearing lest we should be the next objects of their skill, we crept away and left them in council,”
The following fact will show the fearful dangers to which solitary travellers are sometimes exposed. A man belonging to Mr. Sclimelen’s congregation, at Bethany, returning homewards from a visit to his friends, took a circuitous course in order to pass a small fountain, or rather pool, where he hoped to kill an antelope to carry home to his family. The sun had risen to some height by the time he reached the spot, and seeing no game, he laid his gun down on a shelving low rock, the back part of which was covered over with a species of dwarf thorn -bushes. He went to the water, took a hearty drink, and returned to the rock, smoked his pipe, and being a little tired, fell asleep. In a short time the heat reflected from the rock awoke him, and opening his eyes, he saw a large lion crouching before him, with its eyes glaring in his face, and within little more than a yard of his feet. He sat motionless for some minutes, till he had re¬ covered his presence of mind, then eyeing his gun, moved his hand slowly towards it; the lion seeing him, raised its head, and gave a tremendous roar; he made another and another attempt, but the gun being far beyond his reach, he gave it up, as the lion seemed well aware of his object, and was enraged whenever he attempted to move his hand. His situation now be¬ came painful in the extreme; the rock on which he sat became so hot that he could scarcely bear his naked feet to touch it, and kept moving them, alternately placing one above the other. The day passed, and the night also, but the lion never moved from the spot; the sun rose again, and its intense heat soon rendered his feet past feeling. At noon the lion rose and walked to the water, only a few yards distant, looking behind as it went, lest the man should move, and seeing him stretch out his hand to take ids gun.
turned in a rage, and was on the point of springing upon him. The animal went to the water, drank, and returning, lay down again at the edge of the rock. Another night passed: the man, in describing it, said he knew not whether he slept, but if he did, it must have been with his eyes open, for he always saw the lion at his feet. Next day, in the forenoon, the animal went again to the water, and while there, he listened to some noise apparently from an opposite quarter, and disappeared in the bushes. The man now made another effort, and seized his gun; but on attempting to rise, he fell, his ankles being without power. With his gun in his hand, he crept towards the water, and drank, but looking at his feet, he saw, as he expressed it, his ‘‘ toes roasted,” and the skin torn off with the grass. There he sat a few moments, expecting the lion’s return, when he was resolved to send the contents of the gun through its head; but as it did not appear, tying his gun to his back, the poor man made the best of his way on his hands and knees, to the nearest path, hoping some solitary individual might pass. He could go no farther, when, providentially, a person came up, who took him to a place of safety, from whence he obtained help, though he lost his toes, and was a cripple for life.
The preceding lion stories, selected from many more, will serve for the present to illustrate the character of that noble, but dangerous creature. As to his being afraid of the human eye, I shall touch on that subject in another part of my work, when I describe those which have tasted human flesh, for which they ever afterwards retain an uncommon relish. With all their boldness, they are sometimes arrant cowards. On one occasion I remember a man, who, coming unexpectedly on a lion, fainted. The lion raised himself to look over the bushes, and seeing no one, seemed to suspect a plot, and scampered oft* with his tail between his legs. It is but justice to add, that the man was no less cowardly; for, on awaking from his swoon, and looking this way and that, he imagined the object of his terror was still there, and taking to his heels, he made towards the wagon. I have known Bushmen, and even women, drive the lion away from the prey he has just seized, by beating their clubs on dry hides, and shouting; nevertheless, by day, and especially by night, he is an object of terror. Such subjects as these served sometimes to amuse our evening hours; more frequently, however, I requested my companions to propose questions on scriptural and other important subjects, in answering which I had an opportunity of communicating much useful and edifying instruction.
Being disappointed in the object of our journey, we endeavoured to reach home by a shorter route farther to the east, on the borders of the southern Sahara desert, which lies between Namaqua-land and the country of the Bechuanas. We had nearly paid dear for our haste, for we found ourselves in a plain of deep sand, and were on the point of abandoning the wagon. Each went in search of water, but it was in vain, we found only water-melons, and those as bitter as gall. I shall never forget the ghastly looks of our party — nothing could provoke a smile. Some had started off in the direction of a river called ’Kam Toaap, which signifies “the water is done,” where they happily found some, and, alter
drinking largely themselves, filled their calabashes and returned; but before reaching the wagon, their thirst again became excessive, and by the next morning they had nearly finished all they had reserved for us. On my tasting the water, (and it was indeed but a taste, for I wished that others should wet their lips,) the rage for water seemed to increase, and we hastened towards the river. When we reached the top of the deep bed of the river, a scene presented itself which, though twenty-three years have elapsed, is as fresh to my mind as though it occurred but yesterday. Two of the men who had preceded us, immediately seized the thong of the two leading oxen, to prevent them from precipitating themselves with the wagon down the rugged steep, after the example of wiser heads; for all the people, without exception, rushed down the bank: some kept their feet, others rolled, and some tumbled headlong into the muddy pool, in which they seemed fain to lie, clothes and all. It was well that the water was warmed by the sun’s scorching rays, for Africaner, as well as others, recorded several instances of thirsty travellers drinking largely in their heated state, and instantly expiring with their faces in the water.
The journey, which occupied only a few weeks, though without success, settled one important point, namely, the impossibility of obtaining in that desolate region an eligible situation for a missionary station. Jacobus, who had been left in charge, had executed his office with great fidelity and zeal.
The place looked very desolate, and though I had still a congregation of about 200 persons, and up¬ wards of 100 children in the schools, many were absent at cattle out-posts on account of grass. I now resumed my itinerating visits on a more extensive scale, as I had able assistants in Jacobus and David to carry on the week services of the school. Titus, who had also been one of my attendants on the journey, and who, from what I saw, would have suffered death rather than have seen evil befall me, now gave me another display of his attachment. He did not like the idea of my riding on an ox with horns, which is certainly both awkward and hazardous. Some time before, one had fallen, and the rider being thrown forward with his hreast on the horn, was killed. Titus very generously begged of me to take his only horse, which was of great value to him for hunting.
These itinerating expeditions were not unfrequently attended with privations as well as dangers. I shall briefly advert to some facts connected with this subject, which will serve to show those who may he similarly situated, that their lot is only that of their! predecessors. In my experience I often found it not I only profitable but animating, to read the sufferings I of the messengers of the cross in past ages, to which I ours of the present bear no comparison, and especially to the great Apostle of the Gentiles and his coadjutors, who became “all things to all men, as the ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions,
I in necessities, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisoni rnents, in tumults, in labours, in watchings, in fastj ings,’’ 2 Cor. vi. 4, .5.
I After tying my Bible and hymn-book in a blanket to the back of my saddle, and taking a good draught of milk, I started with my interpreter, who rode upon an ITINERATING FARE.
OX. We had our guns, but nothing in our purse or scrip, except a pipe, some tobacco, and a tinder-box. Bread we had none; and though we might have taken a small piece of dry meat with us, we did not, hoping at our halting-place to meet a son of peace. After a hot day’s ride, to reach a village in the evening, the people would give us a draught of sweet milk; and then old and young, assembling in a nook of the fold among the kine, would listen to my address on the great concerns of their souls’ salvation. I exhorted those who could read to read to others, and try to teach them to do the same, promising them a reward in heaven, for I had none to give on earth. When service was over, having taken another draught of milk, and renewed my conversation with the people, I lay down on a mat to repose for the night. Sometimes a kind housewife would hang a bamboos, or wooden vessel filled with milk, on a forked stick, near my head, that I might, if necessary, drink during the night.
At one of these places I had slept on the ground near the door of the hut in which the principal man and his wife reposed. I remarked in the morning, that it appeared that some of the cattle had broken loose during the night, as I had heard something moving about on the outside of the thorn fence under which I lay. “Oh,” he replied, ^‘*1 was looking at the spoor this morning, it was the lion;” adding, that a few nights before it sprang over on the very spot on which I had been lying, and seized a goat, with which it hounded off through another part of the fold. “Look,” said he, “there is part of some of the mats we tore from the house, and burned to frighten him away.” On asking him how he could think of appointing me to sleep in that very spot. Oh,” he rejoined, the lion would not have the audacity to jump over on you.” This remark produced a laugh from me, in which he and his wife joined most heartily; and reminded me of a circumstance in his own historv, with which I was well acquainted; for he had been in the jaws of a lion. One night, he, and about a dozen more hunters, were fast asleep, with a circle of bushes placed around their fire. When the blaze was extinguished, a lion sprang into the midst of the sleeping party, seized my host by the shoulder, and, with his caross, dragged him off to some distance. The others, aroused by the scuffle, snatched up their guns, and, not knowing one of their number had been carried off, shot in the direction whence the noise proceeded. One ball happened to wound the lion, and, in trying to roar, it let the man drop from its grasp, who instantly ran off, leaving his mantle, and bolted in among his companions, crying out, “Do not shoot me;” for they supposed for a moment that he was the lion. He showed me the ugly marks of the lion’s teeth in his shoulder.
After addressing, in the morning, a party like that of the preceding evening, I would again start toward another village; but, owing to the migratory habits of the natives in search of water and grass, there was considerable uncertainty as to finding them. We would travel slowly all day, having had for our break¬ fast a good draught of milk; and in the evening reach the proposed spot as hungry as hawks, to find the whole party removed, leaving nothing but empty folds. To follow the spoor, or track, through the night, was out of the question; besides, there was rarely any ti’ace of the direction in which the party had de-NIGHT ASSOCIATES.
camped. The only living creatures to be seen were some vultures and crows perched on a bush or rock, which were disturbed by our approach to the ruins of a mat house, where they had been occupied in picking up bits of skin, and other particles of food. Not knowing the distance to the water, we would sit down hungry and thirsty, with little inclination either to speak or think; and after commending ourselves to the care of our heavenly Father, lie down to repose, not unfrequently disturbed by visits from hyenas, jackals, and sometimes the lion himself; all which come to prowl for bones when a village has been deserted. Next morning our first concern would be to find water; and, taking our beasts of burden, Vve would seek the track which appeared to lead to that ever delightful beverage. having breakfasted on a draught of not very sweet water, we would again set off on our lonely course, proceeding very slowly, in order not to lose the spoor, regarding ourselves fortunate if we succeeded in overtaking the party.
The above is a specimen of Namaqua itinerating, and sometimes the missionary is called to suffer much greater privations than have now been described. This may be the most proper place, briefly to introduce a sketch of the general character of my manner of living while on this station. As before noticed, I had neither bread nor vegetables. Mr. Bartlett, of Pella, once sent me a bag containing a few pounds of salt, but, on examining it, I could scarcely tell whether there was most sand or salt, and having become accustomed to do without it, I hung it upon a nail, where it remained untouched. My food was milk and meat, living for weeks together on one, and then for a bachelor’s hall.
while on the other, and again on both together. All was well so long as I had either, hut sometimes they both failed, and there were no shops in the country where I could have purchased; and had there been any I must have bought on credit, for money I had none.
I had purchased some ewes from Mr. Ebner when he left the country, which I spared, hoping to get now and then a lamb. My meals consisted frequently of a draught of milk in the morning, another at noon, and a third at night, either sweet, sour, or curdled; for the Namaquas had not the art of preparing it in the manner of the Bechuanas, which will afterwards be described. I had frequently pretty long fasts, and have had recourse to the “fasting girdle,” as it is called; on more than one occasion, after the morning service, I have shouldered my gun, and gone to the plain or the mountain brow in search of something to eat, and, when unsuccessful, have returned, laid down my piece, taken the Word of Life, and addressed my congregation. I never liked begging, and have frequently been hard put to; hut many a time has an unknown fi’iend placed in my hut a portion of food, on which I have looked with feelings better conceived than described. I shall never forget the kindness of Titus Africaner, who, when he visited the station, would come and ask what he could do for me, and,
on receiving a few shots, would go to the field, and almost always bring me home something, for he was an extraordinary marksman.
The contents of my wardrobe bore the same im¬ press of poverty. The supply of clothes which I had received in London were, as is too often the case,
made after the dandy fashion, and I being still a growing youth, they soon went to pieces. There were no laundry-maids there, nor anything like iron¬ ing or mangling. The old woman who washed my linen, sometimes with soap, but oftener without, was wont to make one shirt into a bag, and stuff the others into it; and I just took them out as they were, and more than once have I turned one to feel the comfort of a clean shirt. My dear old mother, to keep us out of mischief in the long winter evenings, taught me both to sew and knit; and when I would tell her I intended being a man, she would reply, “Lad, ye dinna ken whar your lot will be cast.” She was right, for I have often had occasion to use the needle since. I remember once she showed me how a shirt might be smoothed, by folding it properly, and hammering it with a piece of wood. Resolving one day to have a nice shirt for the sabbath, I folded up one, and having prepared a suitable block, I laid it on, not a smooth hearth-stone, but fine granite, and hammered away in good earnest, when Africaner coming by said, What are you doing?” ‘‘ Smooth¬
ing my shirt,” I replied. ‘‘That is one way,” said he. So it was, for on holding it up to view, it was riddled with holes, some as large as the point of my finger. When I left the country I had not half a dozen shirts with two sleeves apiece.