The Author's Stay Prolonged

The Author’s stay prolonged — An expression of gratitude — A Saturday eve — A criminal tried — Savage heroism — Suicide — Parasites — Moselekatse’s history — His character — A bereaved father — His efforts to redeem his son — Paternal affection — A mother’s love — Moselekatse’s inquiries — Passion for war — A monstrous action — Rough cooks — The horrors of war — The Author returns home.

As Mr. Archbell found it necessary to make a very short stay, and having myself left home without any intention of travelling half so far, I informed his savage majesty that my visit must also be short, as my family and friends at the Kuruman would suppose that evil had befallen me on a road where there was little other company than beasts of prey. This was all very reasonable, but he contrived, with no little artifice and persuasion, to detain me ten days. During this period I had frequent interviews with him, but I was not favourably situated for obtaining a knowledge of his real character; for not a soul in his dominions dared breathe a syllable that was not calculated to set him forth as the best and noblest of beings, immaculate in his actions, the very perfection of all that was lovely, just, and good; possessing a power which could hurl the mountains from their foundations; and finally, that his smile was life, while his frown scattered terror and death. However, I learned something of his disposition from the attend - ants of the ehiefs who had visited the Kuruman, and who were permitted to remain at my wagons, with additions to their number, to serve or carry messages, but in reality to watch our movements, and take cognizance of all intercourse between myself and the natives. They were nevertheless very obedient to my suggestions, for when I wanted quietness, I had only to hold up my finger to signify who I wished should go, or who remain. Common people were not allowed to approach without special permission, and I was frequently obliged to prevent my body-guard dis¬ charging sticks, stones, or any thing else, at any one who should dare approach within certain limits. It was with no little difficulty I prevented broken heads and broken bones, for they appeared to perform their tyrannical functions with real zest.

During one of my first interviews with Moselekatse, the following incident took place, which shows that, however degraded and cruel man may become, he is capable of being subdued by kindness. He drew near to the spot where I stood, with some attendants bear¬ ing dishes of food; the two chiefs who had been at the Kuruman were with me, but on the approach of their sovereign, they bowed and withdrew, shouting, as usual, ‘‘ Baaite ’nkhosi enkolu,” but were instantly desired to return. Moselekatse, placing his left hand on my shoulder, and his right on his breast, addressed me in the following language: “Machohane,* I call you such because you have been my father. You have made my heart as white as milk; milk is not white to-day, my heart is white. I cease not to

* The name of his father.

wonder at the love of a stranger. You never saw me before, but you love me more than my own people. You fed me when I was hungry; you clothed me when I was naked; you carried me in your bosom and, raising my right arm with his, added, “that arm shielded me from my enemies.” On my replying, I was unconscious of having done him any such services, he instantly pointed to the two ambassadors who were sitting at my feet, saying, These are great men; ’Umbate is my right hand. When I sent them from my presence to see the land of the white men, I sent my ears, my eyes, my mouth; what they heard I heard, what they saw I saw, and what they said, it was Moselekatse who said it. You fed them and clothed them, and when they were to be slain, you were their shield. You did it unto me. You did it unto Moselekatse, the son of Machobane.” These expressions received additional colourings from his retinue, who added fresh fuel to the hame of pride which ever burned in his heart, by assuring him that it was the renown of his mighty name which had commanded the homage of distant nations. The testimony of his gratitude was duly appreciated and acknowledged, and the assurance given that it was in my power to tell him news. This was the news of the love of God, to which he listened at first with apparent attention, but his countenance soon betrayed a truant mind, while his eyes looked with delight on the droves of sleek cattle approaching the town, and which possessed charms infinitely more captivating than the topics of our conversation.

Thus ended the Saturday eve, when his majesty, indicating by a polite bow that he had heard enough for the present, rose amidst the shouts of his attend¬ ants, and retired to society and conversation more congenial with his savage mind. ’Umbate and two of his relations, whom he wished to introduce to my notice, remained behind till a late hour. One of these appeared to be a man of superior intellect, and put rather striking questions on the subjects which I had brought before the attention of the great man. The stillness of a serene night, far from the dance and war song, which echoed from the neighbouring hills, inspired confidence in these chieftains who spoke in whispers, as if afraid that their king should hear their liberty of speech. ’Umbate repeated to his friend much that he had heard from me on the road about divine things. Though extremely cautious in their remarks, it was evident that they were not insensible of the rigours of the despotism under which they lived. I had been struck with the fine, open countenances of many of the warriors, who, though living amid the bewildering mazes of ignorance and superstition, debased, dejected, and oppressed under the iron sceptre of a monarch addicted to shedding blood, possessed noble minds; but, alas! whose only source of joy was to conquer or die in the ranks of their sovereign. The following morning was marked by a melancholy display of that so-called heroism which prefers death to dishonour. A feast had been proclaimed, cattle had been slaughtered, and many hearts beat high in anticipation of wallowing in all the excesses of savage delight; eating, drinking, dancing, and singing the victors’ song over the slain, whose bones lay bleached on the neighbouring plains. Every heart appeared elate but one. He was a man

of rank, and what was called an Entuna, (an officer,) who wore on his head the usual badge of dignity. He was brought to head-quarters. His arm bore no shield, nor his hand a spear; he had been divested of these, wdiich had been his glory. He was brought into the presence of the king, and his chief council, charged with a crime, for which it was in vain to expect pardon, even at the hands of a more humane government. He bowed his fine elastic figure, and kneeled before the judge. The case was investigated silently, which gave solemnity to the scene. Not a whisper was heard among the listening audience, and the voices of the council were only audible to each other, and the nearest spectators. The prisoner, though on his knees, had something dignified and noble in his mien. Not a muscle of his countenance moved, but his bright black eyes indicated a feeling of intense interest, which the moving balance between life and death only could produce. The case required little investigation; the charges were clearly substantiated and the culprit pleaded guilty. But, alas! he knew it was at a bar where none ever heard the heart-reviving sound of pardon, even for offences small compared with his, A pause ensued, during which the silence of death pervaded the assembly. At length the monarch spoke, and, addressing the prisoner, said, ‘‘You are a dead man, but I shall do to-day what I never did before; I spare your life for the sake of my friend and father” — pointing to the spot where I stood. “I know his heart weeps at the shedding of blood; for his sake I spare your life; he has travelled from a far country to see me, and he has made my heart white; but he tells me that to take away life is an awful thing, and never can he undone again. He has pleaded with me not to go to war, nor destroy life. I wish him, when he returns to his own home again, to return with a heart as white as he has made mine. I spare you for his sake, for I love him, and he has saved the lives of my people. But,” continued the king, “you must be degraded for life: you must no more associate with the nobles of the land, nor enter the towns of the princes of the people; nor ever again mingle in the dance of the mighty. Go to the poor of the field, and let your companions be the inhabitants of the desert.” The sentence passed, the pardoned man was expected to how in grateful adoration to him whom he was wont to look upon and exalt in songs applicable only to One to whom belongs universal sway and the destinies of man. But, no! holding his hands clasped on his bosom, he replied, O king, afflict not my heart! I have merited thy displeasure; let me be slain like the warrior; I cannot live with the poor.” And, raising his hand to the ring he wore on his brow, he continued, How can I live among the dogs of the king, and disgrace these badges of honour which I won among the spears and shields of the mighty? No, I cannot live! Let me die,*0 Pezoolu!” His re([uest was granted, and his hands tied erect over his head. Now my exertions to save his life were vain. He disdained the boon on the conditions offered, jireferring to die with the honours he had won at the point of the spear — honours which even the act that condemned him did not tarnish — to exile and povei’ty among the children of the desei’t. He was led forth, a man walkins; on each side. Mv eve

followed him till he reached the top of a precipice, over which he was precipitated into the deej) pool of the river beneath, where the crocodiles, accustomed to such meals, were yawning to devour him ere he could reach the bottom! This was a sabbath morning scene such as heathenism exhibits to the view of the Christian philanthropist, and such as is calculated to excite in his bosom feelings of the deepest sympathy. This magnanimous heathen knew of no hereafter. He was without God and without hope. But, however deplorable the state of such a person may be, he will not be condemned as equally guilty with those who, in the midst of light and knowledge, self-separated from the body, recklessly rush into the presence of their Maker and their Judge. We have often read of the patriotism of the Greeks and Romans and heard that magnanimity of soul extolled which could sacrifice honour, property, and life itself, for the public good, rather than become the vassals of a foe, and live divested of the poor trappings of human glory; if this be virtue, there are, even among Afric’s sons, men not inferior to the most illustrious of the Romans. The very monarch who was thus influenced by the presence of the Christian missionary, needed only to ask his warriors, ‘‘ Yiho among you will be¬ come a sacrifice for the safety of the state, and the country’s good?” and his choicest men would have run upon the thick bosses of the enemy’s buckler.

Moselekatse’s conduct in this affair produced a strange impression among his people, some of whom regarded me as an extraordinary being, who could thus influence one more terrible to them than the fiercest lion of the forest. His government, so far as I could moselekatse’s tyranny. discover, was the very essence of despotism. The ])ersons of the people, as well as their possessions, were the property of their monarch. His word was law, and he had only to lift his finger or give a frown, and his greatest nobles trembled in his presence. No one appeared to have a judgment of his own; none dared negative an opinion breathed by his sovereign. When any were permitted to approach his person, they crouched softly, muttering his great names. Messengers from the distant out-stations of his do¬ minions were constantly arriving. These laid down their shields and spears at a distance, approached, and then kneeled about thirty yards from his royal person; and when it was his pleasure to receive the communication, it was conveyed by one of his chiefs in waiting. Some of these brought the news of the attacks of lions on some parts of his distant herds, but no one presumed to be the reporter without bringing the head and paws of the animal which had dared to assail the possessions of its mighty name¬ sake.

Although his tyranny was such, that one would have supposed his subjects would execrate his name, they were the most servile devotees of their master. Wherever he was seated, or wherever he slept, a number of sycophants, fantastically dressed, attended him, whose business was to march, jump, and dance about, sometimes standing adoring his person, then manoeuvring with a stick, and vociferating the mighty deeds of valour performed by himself and Machobane. The same things are rejDeated again and again, often with a rapidity of articulation which baffles the understanding of their own countrymen.

After listening many times, I was able, with the assistance of one of these parasites, to pick up the following expressions; — “O Pezoolu, the king of kings, king of the heavens, who would not fear before the son of Machohane, mighty in battle! Where are the mighty before the presence of our great king? Where is the strength of the forest before the great Elephant? The proboscis is breaking the branches of the forest! It is the sound of the shields of the son of Machohane. He breathes upon their faces it is the fire among the dry grass! His enemies are consumed before him, king of kings! Father of fire, he ascends to the blue heavens; he sends his lightnings into the clouds, and makes the rain to descend! Ye mountains, woods, and grassy plains, hearken to the voice of the son of Machohane, king of heaven!’’ This is a specimen of the sounding titles which incessantly meet the ear of this proud mortal, and are sufficient to make the haughty monarch believe that he is what the terror of the name of Dingaan convinced him he was not; for, notwithstanding all his vain boasts, he could not conceal his fears of the successor of the bloody Chaka, against whose iron sway he had rebelled.

It may be necessary to notice here, very briefly, the origin of this great man. When a youth his father was the chief of an independent tribe. His people were attacked by one more powerful, and routed. He took refuge under the sceptre of Chaka, who was then rendering his name terrible by deeds of crime. Moselekatse, from his intrepid character, was placed at the head of a marauding expedition, which made dreadful havoc among the northern tribes; but, moselekatse’s history.

instead of giving up the whole of the spoils, he made a reserve for himself. This reaching the ears of Chaka, revenge instantly burned in the tyrant’s bosom, who resolved to annihilate so daring an aggressor. Moselekatse was half prepared to take liight, and descend on the thickly-peopled regions of the north, like a sweeping pestilence. He escaped, after a desperate contiict with the warriors of Chaka, who killed nearly all the old men, and many of the women. His destructive career among the Bakone tribes has been noticed; hut dire as that was, it must have been only a faint transcript of the terror, desolation, and death, which extended to the utmost limits of Chaka’s conquests. Though hut a follower in the footsteps of Chaka, the career of Moselekatse, from the period of his revolt till the time I saw him, and long after, formed an interminable catalogue of crimes. Scarcely a mountain, over extensive regions, hut bore the marks of his deadly ire. His experience and native cunning enabled him to triumph over the minds of his men, and made his trembling captives soon adore him as an invincible sovereign. Those who resisted, and would not stoop to he his dogs, he butchered. He trained the captured youth in Ids own tactics, so that the majority of his army were foreigners; hut his chiefs and nobles gloried in their descent from the Zoolu dvnastv. He had carried his arms far

into the tropics, where, however, he had more than once met with his equal; and on one occasion, of six hundred warriors only a handful returned, who were doomed to be sacrificed, merely because they had not conquered, or fallen with their companions. Abject representatives came, while I was with him, from the

subjugated tribes of the Bamanguato to solicit his aid against a more distant tribe, which had taken their cattle. By means like these, it may be said, ‘‘ He dipped his sword in blood, and wrote his name on lands and cities desolate.” In his person he was below the middle stature, rather corpulent, with a short neck, and in his manner could be exceedingly affable and cheerful. His voice, soft and effeminate, did not indicate that his disposition was passionate; and, happily for his people, it was not so, or many would have been butchered in the ebullitions of his anger.

The above is but a faint description of this Napoleon of the desert, — a man with whom I often conversed, and who was not wanting in consideration and kindness, as well as gratitude. But to sympathy and compassion his heart appeared a stranger. The following incident, for a day or two, threw” a mystery over my character which he could not understand though it was only an illustration of the principles I laboured to implant in his heart, apparently impervious to any tender emotion which had not self for its object.

It has been before stated that I was accompanied to Moselekatse by Mokatla, chief of the Bahurutsi. Dreading being driven with his subjects from his own native home, and picturesque wdlds, and the tombs of his forefathers, and perhaps extirpated, as other tribes had been — whose bones lay withering in the blast, on the plains and vales which lay in our course, — he placed himself and attendants under my protection, though I was myself a stranger, and had not seen the object of his terror, and that of the tribes around.

He hoped that as the missionary character had re¬ commended itself to him, also a savage, he might go and return unscathed, and obtain the friendship of one who, as he sometimes expressed it, “prevented his peaceful slumbers.’’ His attendants were respect¬ able, all anticipating feasting and favour from one who wallowed in the spoils of war. There was one exception. This was a poor man, whose appearance, dress, and manner, informed me that he was truly the child of poverty, and perhaps of sorrow. This led me to take more notice of him than any other of the chief’s attendants. I felt sympathy for the man, supposing he had been compelled to follow the train of his chief, and leave behind him a family ill-supplied, or some beloved member sick. No; his down¬ cast looks arose from other causes. He had had two sons, about the ages of eight and ten. These had been absent in a neighbouring glen, when a party of Matabele warriors seized the boys, and carried them as spoils to head-quarters. He and his partner in affliction had for more than a year mourned the loss of their children, and, by taking a few trinkets and beads, his little stock of ornaments, the father hoped to obtain their release. After a journey of deep interest and a flattering reception, and days passed in festivities and displays of kindness to the strangers, the man sent in his humble petition by one who could aj)proach the presence of the king, offering the little he had to redeem his two boys. Some time afterwards the proprietor of his sons came and seated himself before my wagon, as I drew near to witness the transaction. The poor man sy)read his ragged mantle on the ground, and laid on it a few strings

2 N 2 of beads and some native-made ornaments, valuable to him, but on which the haughty noble would scarcely deign to cast his eye. The father sighed to see his look of scorn. He then drew from his tattered skins, which he had brought with him, and on which he reposed at night, a small dirty bag, containing a few more strings of half-worn beads, and placed them beside the former: these were borrowed. The scornful look was again repeated. He then took from his arms two old copper rings, and rings of the same material from his ears. The chief answered the anxious eyes of the now desponding father with a frown, and an indignant shake of the head. He then took from his neck the only remaining link of beads which he possessed, and which it was evident he had worn many a year. This, with an old, half-worn knife, he added to the offered ransom. It was his all; and it is impossible ever to forget the expression of those eyes, which, though from national habit would not shed the tear of sorrow, were the index of the deepest anxiety as to the result. Neither the man nor his ornaments excited the smallest emotion in the bosom of the haughty chief, who talked with those around him about general affairs, maintaining the most perfect indifference to the object of paternal agony before his eyes. He at last arose; and being solicited by one who felt something of a father’s love, to pity the old man, who had walked nearly two hundred miles, and brought his little all to purchase his own children, he replied, with a sneer, that one had died of cold the preceding winter, and what the father offered for the other was not worth looking at; adding, “I want oxen.” I have not even- a goat,

5? replied the father. A sigh — it was a heavy sigh — hurst from his bosom: one dead, and not permitted even to see the other with his eyes. The chief walked off, while the man sat leaning his head on the palm of his right hand, and his eyes fixed on the ground, apparently lost to every thing hut his remaining son, now doubly dear from the loss of his brother, and he, alas! far be3mnd his power to rescue. On taking up his mantle to retire, he and his party being obliged to leave early to return to the place whence they came, he was told to he of good cheer, and an effort would be made to get his son. He startled at the sound, threw his mantle at my feet, and spreading out his hand to what he had offered, said, “Take these, my father, and pity me.’’ Retain them for ymurself,” was the reply. He kissed the hand of his pledged benefactor, and departed, saying, Ki tla na le horoko. I shall have slumber,” (peace of mind.)

In the course of the following day, a favourable moment was sought to bring the case before the king. He instantly ordered his brother, the individual who possessed the hoy, to wait upon me, which he promptly did; and on receiving several pounds of a valuable kind of head, he immediately despatched a messenger to bring the boy, who was at a distance, and who arrived the following day.

On my return to Mosega, and aj)proaching the base of one of those hills amidst which the town lay embosomed, a human being was seen rushing down the steep towards the wagons, with a rapidity which led us to fear that she would fall headlong. Every eye was upon her, while some said, “It is the alarm

of war.” The wagon-driver, who sat by me, most emphatically exclaimed, ‘‘ It is a woman, either run¬ ning from a lion, or to save a child.” Yes, it was the mother. She had heard from some of the party who preceded the wagons that morning, that her son was there: she had ascended the hill behind which the town lay, and gazed till the wagon emerged from a ravine. Frantic with joy, she ran breathless to¬ wards me. To prevent her coming in contact with the wagon wheels I sprang to the ground, when she seized my hands, kissed and bathed them with her tears. She spoke not one word, but wept aloud for joy. Her son drew near, when she instantly rushed forward, and clasped him in her arms.

In the frequent intercourse I had with Moselekatse, he was very inquisitive. The missionary, as an instructor of the natives in Divine truth, was to him a mysterious character. He asked me if I could make rain. I referred him to the Governor of the uni¬ verse, who alone could give rain and fruitful seasons. ’Umbate was more than once called to bear his testimony as to our operations and manner of living at the Kuruman. Our leaving our own country for the sake of the natives, obedient to the will of the in¬ visible Being whose character I had described, was to him a bewildering fact; for he did not appear to doubt my word: and how we could act independently of our sovereign, or without being his emissaries, he could not understand: but his greatest puzzle was, that I had not seen my king, and could not describe his riches, by the number of his flocks and herds. I tried to explain to him the character of the British government, the extent of our commerce, and the moselekatse’s inquiries. good our nation was doing in sending the Gospel of peace and salvation to the nations which know not God; and told him also, that our king too had his instructors, to teach him to serve that God who alone was “King of kings, and King of the heavens.’’ Is your king like me?” he asked. I was sorry I could not give him a satisfactory reply. When I described the blessed effects of peace, the populousness of my own country, the industry of the people, the number of sheep and cattle daily slaughtered in the great towns, the reigning passion again hurst forth in the exclamation, “Your nation must be terrible in battle; you must tell your king I wish to live in peace.”

The day after this conversation he came to me, attended by a party of his warriors, who remained at a short distance from us, dancing and singing. Their yells and shouts, their fantastic leaps, and distorted gestures, would have impressed a stranger with the idea that they were more like a company of fiends than men. Addressing me, he said, “I am a king, but you are Macliobane, and I am come to sit at your feet for instruction.” This was seasonable; for my mind had just been occupied in contemplating the miseries of the savage state. I spoke much on man’s ruin, and man’s redemption. “Why,” he asked, “are you so earnest that I abandon all war, and not kill men?” ‘‘Look on the human bones which lie scattered over your dominions,” was my reply. “They speak in awful language, and to me they say,

‘ Whosoever sheddeth man’s blood, by man also shall his blood he shed.’” This was fearful language in the cars of such a murderer. “You say,” he added, “that the dead will rise again.” My remarks on this

subject were startling in the ears of a savage, and he interrupted me by hastily assuring me that be would not go to war. While we were yet speaking, a body of Machaha soldiers advanced, and bowed behind their shields at a distance, to wait his awful nod. The Entoto (married man) their leader, then addressed him in language and attitude the most suppliant. The burden of the petition was, ‘‘Permit us, O king of heavens, to obtain new shields in other words, “Allow us to go and attack some distant town, to acquire new spoils and fresh glory.” This was an inauspicious moment for these ambitious men. Turn¬ ing to me, the monarch said, “You see it is my people who wish to make war,” and instantly dis¬ missed them from his presence.

As he was rather profuse in his honorary titles,

especially in calling me a king, I requested him

rather to call me teacher, or anything but a king.

“Then,” he said, “shall I call you my Tather?”

“Yes,” I rejoined, “but only on condition that you

be an obedient son.” This drew from him and his

nobles a hearty laugh. When I recommended a

system which would secure not only safety, but

plenty to his people, without the unnatural one of

keeping up a force of many thousands of unmarried

warriors; he tried to convince me that his people

were happy, and to a stranger they might appear so,

for, alas, they dared not let any murmur reach his

ear; hut I knew more than he was aware of. I knew

many a couch was steeped with silent tears, and

manv an acre stained with human blood. About ten %

minutes after the conversation, a lovely boy, the son of one of his many wives sat smiling on my knee, caressing me as if I were his own father. As some of the king’s harem were seated near, I asked the hoy which was his mother. He shook his little head and sighed. I asked no more, but learned soon after that the mother, who was the daughter of a captive chief, was a superior woman, and took the liberty of remonstrating with her lord on the multitude of his concubines. One morning she was dragged out of her house, and her head severed from her body.

The happiness of the king and his subjects appeared to he entirelv derived from their success in war, and the reward of a wife was a stimulus to his men to multiply their victims. Days of feasting were held, when they glutted themselves with flesh. The bloody howl was the portion of those who could count the tens they had slain in the day of battle. One evening two men bore towards me an enormous basket. It was the royal dish sent from the presence of his majesty. The contents, smoking bloody apparently as liquid as if it had just come from the arteries of the ox, and mixed with sausages of suet. I acknowledged the honour he wished to confer, bat begged to be excused partaking of so lordly a dish, as I never ate blood when I could get any thing else. This refusal gave perfect satisfaction, when the whole breast of an ox, well stewed, was immediately sent in its place. As nothing can he returned, the hearers of the smoking present, and others who were standing round it, had scarcely heard that they might do what they y)leased with it, when they rushed upon it, scooping it up with their hands, making a noise equal to a dozen hungry hogs around a well -hi led trough.

On my journey to and from this polite, and, I

might truly add grateful barbarian, I received great attention, and was exposed to no annoyance. Having to pass through a country full of lions, a number of warriors constantly attended the wagons, whom I supplied with food out of the numberless presents of milk, grain, and slaughter oxen which I had received from their munificent master. On more than one occasion as many as fifty dishes wxre brought from a village and placed before me; but the Matabele escort could not conceal their strong passion for meat, and when I gave them the leg or shoulder of an ox, they immediately kindled a fire, into the centre of which the whole leg would be thrown, and occasionally turned with a long pole. After being burned and roasted some inches deep, it was dragged forth, and as soon as it was sufficiently cool to allow of its being seized with their hands, they squatted on the ground around it, and raising it to a level with their mouths, each tore off a piece, and the mass might be seen moving to and fro, according to the success of the teeth in seizing a firm hold. When they had penetrated to what was too raw, it was thrown again into the fire for a second course. I never saw them eat raw flesh, as some have affirmed to be their practice.

To these facts, extracted from a voluminous journal, my limits will only permit me to add one picture more of heathenism, calculated to awaken all the sympathies of an enlightened mind. I am persuaded no one of my readers would thank me for a minute description of manners and dress, which could only ex¬ cite disgust, and details of revenge and the punishment of capital crimes, in which there is a combination of all that is ferocious, horrid, and cruel. The following description of their mode of warfare and treatment of captives, cannot but excite the deepest sympathy for the millions of our fellow men who are perishing thus awfully for lack of knowledge in the dark regions of this benighted world. The Matahele were not satisfied with simply capturing cattle; nothing less than the entire subjugation, or destruction of the vampiished, could quench their insatiable thirst for power. Thus when they conquered a town, the terrified inhabitants were driven in a mass to the out¬ skirts, when the parents and all the married women were slaughtered on the spot. Such as dared to be brave in the defence of their town, their wives, and their children, are reserved for a still more terrible death; dry grass, saturated with fat, is tied round their naked bodies, and then set on fire. The youths and girls are loaded as beasts of burden with the spoils of the town, to be rharched to the homes of their victors. If the town he in an isolated position, the helpless infants are either left to perish with hunger, or to be devoured by beasts of prey. On such an event, the lions scent the slain and leave their lair. The hyenas and jackals emerge from their lurking places in broad day, and revel in the carnage, while a cloud of vultures may be seen descending on the living and the dead, and holding a carnival on human flesh. Should a suspicion arise in the savage bosom that these helpless innocents may fall into the hands of friends, they will prevent this by collecting them into a fold, and after raising over them a pile of brushwood, apply the flaming torch to it, when the town, hut lately the scene of mirth, becomes a heap of ashes. O Christians of England! can you, as subjects of Divine

love, as possessing the blessed Gospel of the Son of God, and as holding his last commission from the Mount of Olives to publish it to the ends of the earth, — can you gaze on these fields of human blood, these regions of unutterable woe, without emotion? Ah! brethren, could you behold the scenes your mission¬ aries witness, you would wake up with a power of pity which would impel you to deeds of Christian compassion, compared with which your past exertions would appear as nothing.

Having resolved on returning, Moselekatse accompanied me in my wagon a long day’s journey to one of his principal towns. He soon became accustomed to the jolting of an African wagon, and found it convenient to lay his well lubricated body down on my bed, to take a nap. On awaking, he invited me to lie down beside him; but I begged to be excused, preferring to enjoy the scenery around me. Two more days we spent together, during which I renewed my entreaties that he would abstain from war, promising that one day he should be favoured with missionaries, which he professed to desire. Having obtained from me my telescope, for the purpose, he said, of seeing on the other side of the mountains if Dingaan, the king of the Zoolus, whom he justly dreaded, was approaching, I bade him farewell, with scarcely a hope that the Gospel could be successful among the Matabele, until there should be a revolution in the government of a monarch who demanded that hom¬ age which pertains to God alone. A few moments before I left him, I remarked that it was the duty of a wise father to instruct his son; and as he called me Machobane, I thought it right again to warn him, that if he did not cease from war, and restrain his lintuna (nobles) from perpetrating their secret and dreadful cruelties on the aborigines, he might expect that the eternal God would frown upon him, when the might of his power would soon be broken, and the bones of his warriors would min2:le with those they had themselves scattered over his desolate do¬ minions. To this solemn exhortation he only replied, “Pray to your God to keep me from the power of Dingaan.” After a journey through the country already described, preserved amid many dangers from beasts of prey, I arrived safely at home after an absence of two months, and found Mrs. M. and our family, with Mr. Hamilton, well, and cheered with the continued display of the Divine blessing on the Kuruman mission.