Mary Moffat Journeys to the Cape

In 1847 the question of education for the younger children again came to the front. The parents had made up their minds that action could no longer be delayed, and that the children must go, at least, as far as the Cape. The father could not leave his work, so the mother had to go alone. She started on the second of August with the three children, a son and two daughters. Her attendants were four Bechwana men and a maid. An elder daughter remained at home to keep house for her father and for the now aged Hamilton, Robert Moffat accompanied the travellers a day’s journey on their way, and then bid them a long farewell. Two of the children he did not see again for eleven years.

The journey to Cape Town, extending over a period of two months, had still to be made in the slow ox-waggon; but to the mother the time seemed all too short. She felt that it was the last she would ever have with her young children about her. Her loving heart never got hardened to these partings one of the severest crosses incident to the missionary calling, The children, too, were not so young that they could not feel the shadow of the impending change. l3uring those few weeks of lonely wilderness life, the members of the little group were all in all to each other. There was a pathetic tenderness in the interest which the mother took in the wild flowers and curious pebbles which the children gathered on the hill-sides and in the stony river-beds j and the gentle and homely counsels and warnings then given are not forgotten even now, nearly forty years after.

The journey was made without accident or hindrance. In the homesteads of the farmers and in the villages along the route all was goodwill. Railwajs, express coaches, and hotels are no doubt a great improvement; but the old-fashioned hospitahty of those days is a pleasant thing to remember, for all that. The Cape was reached at last, and Mary Moffat took up her abode at Claremont, and found her trusty friend Mr. Mathew an invaluable assistance in the many cares and anxieties of her position.

She was confronted at the outset with a great disappointment and perplexity. Her elder son Robert, who had been left in England for his education, and who his parents had hoped would go through a course of study at Glasgow, preparatory to coming out as a missionary, had broken down in health, and been driven to return in all haste to the Cape. His coming out under these circumstances led to his employment under Government in the Survey Department. He always remained a firm and true friend of the natives, and was subsequently of great service to the Bechwana Mission in a commercial capacity; but anything short of his entire consecration to direct missionary work failed to satisfy his parents, with their intense devotedness to a cause to which it was their desire to feel that they had given not only themselves, but their children as well.

The anxieties involved in his affairs, and in a partial change of plan with regard to the younger children, were very great. Mary Moffat had to act upon her own responsibility. Postal communication went as far as Colesberg, and no farther. The remaining two hundred and fifty miles was bridged by casual opportunities, and the attention of agents, more or less prompt, at certain points on the route. Consultation with the father at Kuruman was almost out of the question. A letter, to which a special answer was required, was despatched, with the request to an agent at Coles berg that it might be forwarded with all haste. It took three months in transit, which was rather longer than usual.

A favourable opportunity presenting itself, she put her two little girls on board a ship, under the care of a minister and his wife returning home from the Cape. The boy was placed at school in Cape Town for a time. In the month of March, 1848, she had her waggon packed, and with her native servants addressed herself to her long and solitary journey back to the Kuruman.

Mary Moffat to her Father.
“On the way to the Kdeuman in the Karroo,

“March 17, 1848.

“My dear old Father, — If your thread of life is lengthened till you receive this, I am sure you will forgive me the great crime of which I have been guilty — that of having been five months in Cape Town and never writing to you. Believe me, honoured parent, you were not forgotten; but the desire of writing to you fully and circumstantially caused me to delay thus shamefully. The fact was, from the day of my arrival I was the subject of perplexity and anxiety. Having been led to expect our dear boy about the end of October I waited till he should arrive. Besides which I had come for the express object of sending John to England, but was immediately deterred from doing so until I should again hear from his father, as there appeared to me some temerity in so doing after his brother’s health had failed, who was always robust.

“Before I left home, my husband and Livingstone had been pressing on my attention very closely the propriety of sending the two little girls. My heart i-ebelled for some time, and I felt the thing impossible; but again, on considering that there was a school for them at comparatively small expense, that owing to my constantly declining strength they could not have a suitable education at home, and then the journey I was about to take on John’s account would involve an expense which could not be incurred again for many years to come, I began to consider the matter in all its bearings. I saw that should I be called to leave them, my death-bed would be embittered by the consideration that they might have been placed in circumstances more favourable to a proper training for usefulness in the Church and in the world, but for the victory my feelings had got over my judgment. I felt that in being thus weak I should he unjust to them, and thus yielded the point. When Robert and I parted, it was with this understanding distinctly, that if I met with favourable protection for them for the voyage they should go: if not, I was to bring them back again. This was to be the finger of God pointing the way, and in the meantime the matter was to be spread before the Lord continually, with all due submission to what appeared to be His will....

“Just at the time that a decision on my part was imperative, the Rev. J. Crombie Brown resolved on going home, and very kindly offered to take charge of my children. This was more than I looked for — people so kind, so pious, and having children of their own about the same age. How could I doubt! Though my heart was heaving with anguish, I joyfully and thankfully acceded forthwith, and set about preparation in good earnest. This was about the end of January. On the loth of February they embarked, and after stopping the night on board, I tore myself from my darlings to return to my desolate lodgings to contemplate my solitary journey, and to go to my husband and home childless. O my dear father, when I caused your breast to heave convulsively till the sobs checked your utterance in Britannia Row, Islington, in August, 1819, it was but the commencement of a series of such separations to the present time; or, I should rather have said on the 6th of August, at Dukinfield Nursery, when I last hung on the neck of my own dear mother. What scenes have we not passed through since that memorable day! But have we, my dear father, ever had cause to regret these sacrifices which have been made for the cause of God? No I He has richly fulfilled His promises to us, and even where His steps have been involved in mystery so that we cannot trace Him, we have the assurance that ’ all things work toojether for good to those who love God, and are the called according to His purpose.’

“But to return to my narrative. Having such a charming opportunity, I regretted losing it for John, in case his father should blame me. I was just on the point of sending him, too, but could not see my way clear, and was therefore in the depths of perplexity when good Mr. Steedman, who once before delivered us out of a dilemma, came in and said, ‘Do not send him till you hear from his father: and then, should he wish it, he shall go with us about the end of March.’ I was thus relieved in my extremity only three days before the embarkation, and three days after got a letter fully sanctioning his remaining in Cape Town. Though I feel excessively — for my nerves have got a great shock — my judgment still approves what has been done after five weeks have passed. We have mothers in Israel in England, but not fathers, in this day of rapid movements in mind and matter. Every man has too much to attend to to have leisure to exercise a fatherly control over other people’s children. With the ladies it is different, there being so many single who have mixed with their benevolence so large a share of maternity. I have confidence that our beloved friends the Eisdells will not lose sight of my lambkins. They have most generously and nobly taken upon themselves much care and anxiety, and labour too, for the elder ones, and I have dared again to presume on their kindness, for it is the element in which they live....

“The latest news from the station was good: all well in the beginning of January. Ann earning a splendid reputation as housekeeper and infant-school mistress combined. The prophecies of Isaiah have been printed since I left, and the ‘Pilgrim’ was on the way to be finished. This is some consolation to me that though I had to pass through so much alone, something so important has been done, which could not have been done had my husband come himself. I have never had the powers of mind and body more taxed as a mother than during the last two years. The Livingstones came out last year, half withered away with fatigue and privation. I laboured hard to fetch up their strength and sent Mary back with her children like roses. But the trouble I spent over them was at the expense of my own little ones, who during those months had very little of my attention. This I endeavoured to make up to them on my journey to the Cape. While I have been there they have been the all-engrossing subject; nor have I dared to indulge in reading or writing lest I should forget what related to them. If I am now allowed to return to the station, I hops to serve the mission and my husband with renewed vigour for a while.” In his last letter he tells me one had come to hand from you, and gives me the contents. It is a cause of thankfulness to us both to see you so composed and collected, and so thankful for the mercies you enjoy. Your experience reminds me of a sweet verse of the late Charles Wesley composed when very old. I cannot repeat it, but it begins, * In age and feebleness extreme.’ It is to be found in Roby’s Selection, and mine having disappeared, I have not read it for many years. I $m sure it would be sweet to you. Give my warmest love to 18o TRAVELLING DIFFICULTIES.

the dear Sheldons. May our Lord and Master richly reward them for all their kindness to you. They have indeed strengthened my hands and comforted my heart in their attentions to you, for I esteem it one of my chief mercies that you are so comfortable in your latter end....

“I must now close, my dear father, which always makes me sad from the conviction that I may never have opportunity to address you again. But, my dear father, we shall soon meet for all that; and

There on a green and flowery mount
Our weary souls shall sit,
And with transporting joy recount
The labours of our feet.’

“I have written this on my first leisure hours in the desert, while much fatigued. Adieu, dear and venerable parent. — Your ever affectionate daughter.”

“South Bank of the Orange River,

•’ April 21, 1848.

“My dear Robert, — Through the tender mercies of God, here am I, to the great joy of my heart; for though such a formidable barrier as this swollen river lies between me and my beloved home, I now feel that I only want this luxury, to know that all is well, to make me quite happy. It appears that patience must be tried on this journey; but as I cannot blame myself for having lingered one single night when we might have gone on, I can now be satisfied to wait the Lord’s time. He has led me and guided me all through, and when I am tempted to think some awful trial may await me at my journey’s end, I think of the argument used by Manoah’s wife with her husband, and thus my fears are allayed. The loth of January is my last date from you, so that I am really in the dark as to what may have transpired, for here I can hear nothing. I did indulge a hope that you might have got some of my letters, and that I mightmeetyou somewhere hereabouts. I cannot recollect whether your meeting at Griqua Town is in the first week in May or after the first Sabbath, but I have resolved to write and beg of Mr. Solomon to get this conveyed to you as quickly as possible, as it may influence your movements.

We arrived here last night in a heavy thunderstorm, after having spanned out at midday because we could get no further, the waggon have stuck fast in a sand-bank, and there, with the front to the wind, I was some hours in showers of sand. To-day has been dark and looming, and again this afternoon a heavy storm. Indeed, I think I have not seen such a sky since I was on the line — so tropical. It is evidently the breaking of the season, and I cannot guess whether it will affect the river or not, for the clouds and rain are everywhere about. This moment we have had a heavy hailstorm from the west, but I must resume, having the prospect of a man swimming over to-morrow, and cannot let it slip. I have only one candle left, and if I use it to-night must do without afterwards. On Monday I did hope to have taken my cup of coffee with the Solomons this evening, or at

A TIMELY WARNING. iSi

latest to-morrow. The people say that the water will require a fortnight to run off, but I cannot believe it. They say also that it is at least four stages to where the boat is, below the junction. I would rather not use the boat if it can be avoided....

“I should think you will have heard by this time that I left the Cape on the 6th of March, arrived at Beaufort West on the ist of April, have had to sing of mercy unmingled, though we have had an ample share of what is disagreeable on an Africian journey: a broken axle, heavy thunderstorms, and much rain from the other side of theGamka to this moment, and consequently oxen with sore feet and sore necks; quagmires in abundance: sometimes we were stuck in them for three or four hours; one night we slept in one. But out of all our troubles the Lord has delivered us, and the voice of joy and praise ought to be heard amongst us. You will guess the people have had their miseries, but the tent has been a great comfort to them....

“My dear Robert, I feel for you that I come alone, but the retrospect of the way in which we had been led is highly satisfactory to me. I cannot wish it undone. I trust our darlings are about this time reaching the land of their fathers, and have confidence that they will be blessed.”

A few days later Mary Moffat writes to one of her children:

“On the 20th of April we saw the noble stream, to our heart’s dismay, for we had now the gloomy prospect of long detention on the southern side. We arrived at the English ford and had rain and cold for four successive days. The Vortuins came over and sent my letter to papa to the care of Mr. Solomon, and he sent me back a budget which had been waiting my arrival, all from Kuruman. These cheered me in my solitude, and Mr. S. kindly advised me to go on to Read’s ford, where he would meet me with swimmers, and, if practicable, get me over. We accordingly went thither, but alas! the water was too high, and there was no alternative but to go still higher up to the junction, and get Mr. Hughes to take us over with his boat, or wait papa’s arrival — to the latter I was strongly inclined. On Saturday night late we arrived, not at the proper place, but not far from it, and when dressing in the morning the maid told me papa was on the other side! You may be sure I lost no time in letting him know where I was, and on Tuesday evening we had the happiness of saluting across the beautiful expanse of water at the junction. The boat had not arrived, and papa, having a severe cold, dared not to swim, so that after ascertaining that all was well, we retired to our respective waggons for the night. In the morning we had another salute, and then papa and Mr. Hughes set off to meet and hasten the boat, which came about noon, when we had soon a joyful and sorrowful meeting: joy, because of all the goodness and mercy of God to the whole family during our separation, and sorrow, or rather tender regret, for the absence of the three younger children. Yes, it was trying for papa to see me alone, with not one little prattler. But these feelingswere quickly swallowed up in thankfulness and praise.

“Early next morning they commenced operations. Edward Hughes was chief boatman, and all was through before sunset, and then the rain commenced, so that we had hard work to get everything under cover. We came here to Griqua Town in two days, and are awaiting the meeting of Committee, after which we hope to reach our beloved home on the 19th.”

For two or three years after Mary Moffat’s return from the Cape, little took place out of the ordinary routine. Moffat’s chief energies were concentrated on the work of translation. During his wife’s absence the prophecies of Isaiah were not only translated, but put through the press. Bunyan’s “Pilgrim” was now also published in Sechwana, and additional parts of the Old Testament were being taken in hand. As the unwearied translator remarks in one of his letters, each portion of the Scriptures as it came out seemed immediately to call for some additional portion to help in its explanation. Meanwhile Ashton, besides translating “Line upon Line,” assisted his colleague in revision and carried on the press-work; the two missionaries dividing between them the ordinary duties of the station, with its home church, and as the centre of a large district of out-stations. The venerable Hamilton, the father of the mission, was fast declining in strength, and could do little more than walk about, leaning on his patriarchal staff; but what little he could do was done with the old love which had kept him constant through cloud and sunshine, storm and calm, for more than thirty years.

Whilst at Kuruman all was peaceful and in a measure prosperous, clouds were gathering to the eastward, destined eventually to throw a dark shadow over the whole Bechwana Mission. The Dutch emigration from the Cape Colony, to which reference has already been made, had been steadily going on for some years. The Government had not thought fit to interfere with a movement which was a temporary solution of troublesome problems within the Colony itself. To those in power, who had no permanent stake or interest in the country, and to whom it was a sufficient object to get quietly through their own term of office, it was an advantage rather than otherwise to be rid of a few thousands of disaffected spirits, who might or might not have tangible grievances, but whom it seemed impossible to satisfy. What matter if these men pouring over the Colonial boundaries encroached upon the lands and rights of many native tribes? So it came to pass that as years went on the emigrant Boers had spread themselves over the whole of what is now the Orange Free State, and also a considerable part of Natal and the Transvaal. The course of the emigration was influenced by the character of the country, and took for the most part a north-easterly direction. Kuruman, lying as it does well away westward, on the borders of the Kalahari desert, and in a comparatively dry country, though in itself an attractive spot, has thus escaped absorption even to this day.

Before the superior organization and the firearms of the white intruders the Bechwanas had to choose between exile or vassalage. It is an old and oft-told tale, and is only referred to because these events have had an important bearing on the progress and efficiency of the Bechwana Mission. They resulted in that enterprise, so far as the London Society is concerned, being hemmed in and confined to the tribes which skirt the desert, whose country was not sufficiently attractive to the Boers so long as the fertile regions to the north-east had not been fully taken into possession. In later years the German and Swiss missionaries have taken up the work in what is now the Transvaal, and are bravely coping with difficulties incident to a state of society in which their people are not regarded as being entitled to human or civil rights.

Livingstone had settled with the Bakwena of Sechele, about two hundred and fifty miles from Kuruman. They also lay on the very margin of the desert, but eastward from them the country was well wooded, well watered, and thickly populated; for the Bechwana tribes had returned to their old places after the departure northward of Mosilikatse and his Matebele. Livingstone regarded his station at Kolobeng simply as a basis of operations, and he was, by repeated visits to the eastern tribes, preparing the way for a large extension of missionary work in that direction. He had met with much encouragement, and a promising field for enterprise was opening among a people who seemed well disposed to the gospel, and whose language was already used in Moffat’s translation of the Scriptures. Into all these projects the Moffats had entered with the greatest ardour, and they viewed with increasing alarm the tide of Boer emigration setting in from the Cape Colony.

In 1848 complications arose which led to a trial of strength between the forces of the Government and the emigrants beyond the Colonial border. Sir Harry Smith, then Governor at the Cape, concentrated his small force at Colesberg, suddenly crossed the Orange River, and in a short and sharp engagement put the Boers to flight. They never rallied, but scattered to their homesteads, and Sir Harry annexed the country, now the Orange Free State, but at that time the Orange River Sovereignty. Many of the Boers settled down quietly under British rule, but the more irreconcilable spirits crossed the Vaal and joined those who had already carved out for themselves a country in the territory of the Bechwana and Bapedi tribes. It soon became apparent to the

London missionaries that all hope of carrying on their work in that region was over; and it became doubtful whether they would be allowed to retain even their existing stations. It was inconvenient to the Boers that there should be so near men who were able to give testimony to the civilized world of what was going on in those remote regions; men who could be neither cajoled nor intimidated into silence. It is probable also that many Boers did actually believe in the charge they were so fond of bringing against missionaries, that they supplied the natives with ammunition, and incited them to armed resistance. Like many other falsehoods, it lived long enough to do its evil work before it died of its own absurdity.

Under these circumstances Livingstone, looking for an outlet for the expansion of the Bechwana Mission, turned his eyes northwards, and thus came about that series of explorations which absorbed the remainder of his life. Mary Moffat writes to one of her children in January, 1849:

“When I wrote to Mr. Mathew I told him that our fears about the Boers in the interior were given to the wind, that they were quite tamed, acknowledged the superior power of the English, and were all at once become very civil and quiet with the natives. This was our latest news, and so easy was Mr. Livingstone, that he was going to send Paulo to near Magalies Berg to Mokhatla forthwith. But, alas! it appears they were only pausing to consider what they would do. Yesterday a letter came from Joseph Arend, who is on his way to Kolobeng or further if practicable. He found the people at Sitlagole all in commotion about the Boers, who, they say, are forcibly taking possession of all the fountains and fine lands of the Bahurutse and Bakhatla. Mosega and Poe are in their possession. The report runs that they first met opposition with stroking of the hand; but now they have recourse to their guns, so that the natives are in despair. It is said that the Bakhatla country was all in an uproar. Now, though we always deduct from native reports till we hear from a missionary, this intelligence has made us very unhappy. We have many fears for our missions, and more for the poor natives. We can scarcely hope that all this is false, but shall be glad to find it so. If it be true we shall soon hear, and shall let you know by the first opportunity.”

Moffat’s elder son, Robert, had been appointed, after the battle of Boomplaats and the annexation of the Orange River Sovereignty, as one of the ofificials in the new territory. The first years of his manhood and of his active service were spent among the Boers, with whom he thus became well acquainted. He was by no means ready to condemn them indiscriminately. Indeed, missionaries weie disposed to think that he leaned too much to their favour. In the light of the following quotation from a letter to his father this would hardly appear to have been the case. The opinions here expressed remained unchanged after a good many years’ experience.

“January, 1849.

“Since I last wrote you matters have been going on as usual. I have, for my part, been inspecting some hundred and ten farms in this district — not surveying, but pointing out beacons and settling disputes where such arise. I must say that I have had a very trying time of it. Among the farmers I have been treated with respect and kindness, so that I have no need to complain. But the Boer pride, obstinacy, and ignorant disaffection are enough to eat up the spirit of any one in the smallest degree devoted to their welfare. With all my arguments as to the new state of matters in this vast Colony, with all my appeals that they trek no more, with all my promises as an Afrikander myself among them to bring their wants and feelings publicly before the governor and council of the land, they remain incredulous, fomenting fresh ingratitude and, it may be, new determinations. To my mind they are the most peculiar men under heaven. My mind has been so absorbed with the nature of their proceedings, measures for the amelioration of their condition, and dread of the far future, not only as it concerns them and their deluded families, but the fate of the unhappy thousands of aborigines, that I feel dejected. I have been collecting my thoughts, but I find the subject too great; for where will this trekking end? It will appear to you natural that I should be so excited on these subjects. It has been my lot to be placed alone, as an English official, in the extreme district, twice the size of any of the others, and, what is more, bordering on the very sphere of rebellion. Here is a tract of at least fifteen thousand square miles, watered on one side by some two hundred and fifty miles of the Vaal River and its tributaries — theValsch, the Rhenoster, the Eland, and Liebenberg’s Vley. I am now presenting a report to headquarters, with a chart of the district, that there is still room for some seven hundred new farms of three thousand niorgen each. This will appear almost incredible, but I am prepared to prove it. Out of three hundred cultivated farms, one hundred and fifty proprietors have trekked. Thus it may be said that there is room here for eight hundred and fifty additional Boer families, which is somewhat less than the total number beyond the Vaal. Is it not a lamentable fact, my father, that with such eligible lands in the immediate neighbourhood of the Colony so many should be prevailed on, by an ignorant pride and obstinacy, to trek into the wild jungle? Where is the great desideratum .-’ Who is at fault? The Boers are not altogether so intractable. They have a measure of religious knowledge culled from the Bible and their itinerating predikants, but they have been degenerating for the last ten years, and if Government should not be more decisive, this land will yet have to deal with a white semi-barbarous herd, who, with a still prouder obstinacy, will resist all coercive measures.”

Mary Moffat to one of her children.

“March 2, 1849,

“Now I have some sad news to tell you, The Boers in the interior have written to the Committee of our missions here insisting on Mr. Livingstone’s being immediately removed to the Colony, and that for e - er! They add, if the Committee does not comply with this demand, they will carry it into force themselves. Their chief reason for requiring this to be done is, that though he knew that they had issued laws that no coloured person should possess a gun or a horse, he had failed to give them information of Sechele’s having made large purchases in this way. The Boers’ letter contains many palpable untruths. The brethren here have written to let them know that the subject will be brought before the Committee at its next meeting. The Bakwena seem inclined to fight for it. They say they must die at all events, for they know they must do so or give up their arms which they have struggled hard to procure, and which are now essential to their subsistence, for it is impossible for them to get game by the spear in a country overrun by well-armed Boers with abundance of powder. A famine is expected this year, as the drought has been excessive, and the crop of native grain has entirely failed. It is the fourth year of scarcity, but exceeds all the rest. Therefore they are right in saying they must die at any rate if deprived of their firearms. It is quite plain that this ill-will against the Sechele arises from the conviction that he is a superior man, who by his attainments threatens to leave them in the rear, and this is intolerable in a black man, a Kafir. Sechele is marked out for destruction, the first convert to Christianity in those regions, the firstfruits of the Bakwena Mission. We feel very disconsolate on account of present appearances, for without a direct interposition of Providence the mission will be broken up.”

When Livingstone, in despair of being allowed to work eastward from Kolobeng, turned his thoughts to the north, the prospect was not attractive. The Kalahari Desert seemed to bar the way. Beyond the Bakwena lay the Bamangwato, in an isolated position. They could only be reached by crossing an almost waterless country for a hundred and twenty miles, and beyond them it was known that the country was if anything drier still. For some years, however, faint rumours had grown more distinct that there was a large lake far to the north. In 1849 Livingstone started, in company with two gentlemen who had visited the country for hunting purposes — Murray and Oswell. They were successful in reaching Lake Ngami, or, more correctly, Nghabe, found there another large tribe of Bechwanas, an offshoot of the Bamangwato, known as the Botauana, and discovered that north of the Kalahari desert was a land of rivers and of many and diverse populations.

From that time Livingstone was lost to the Bechwana Mission, lie returned to Kolobeng, but it was with the determination to

MR. FR^DOUX TURNED BACK. 187

revisit the lake in the following year. His travelling companions had been of the greatest assistance to him, and Oswell in particular, who was so in sympathy with him that he returned to the Cape only to make preparations for a more extended journey.

Meanwhile Moffat had occasion to pay a visit to the Bakwena country. The Boers were busy with disputes among themselves, and the western Bechwanas were for a time left in peace. Moffat’s journey was for the purpose of accompanying a deputation from home which had come out to look into South African matters. The tour was an extended one. On their return from the interior the travellers visited Bloemfontein, the seat of government in the new territory. An endeavour was made to represent to the authorities the grave state of affairs in the interior, but to little purpose. An era of irresolution had commenced, and the outcome of it was that the Boers took courage, and found that they could act with impunity.

Mary Moffat to Mrs- Sheldon, of Manchester.

“July 23, 1850.

“The interior missions are in a sad state. The rebel Boers are thorns in their sides. The natives are grievously oppressed, deprived of the lands of their fathers, and driven hither and thither to the desert regions. Missionaries are forbidden to go eastward, and edicts are issued by the Boers to the different native chiefs commanding them ’ to prevent all English travellers and traders from penetrating beyond them, while they, if they refuse, will be accounted the enemies of the Boers.’

“Mr. Frddoux, a French missionary, started in March to go north-east to visit an interesting people in that quarter who have three times sent messengers to my husband seeking friendship. Mr. F. thought, as he was not an Englishman, he would meet with no opposition, but he has come home thoroughly convinced that it is not Englishmen, but the friends of the aborigines, who are to be expelled the country. He was allowed to travel among the Boers a fortnight, and was after all surrounded on a Sabbath morning by a host of Boers on foot and thirteen horsemen, all armed, demanding to know from whence he was, whither going, and what to do .? On telling them his object he was strictly ordered to go no further, but to return to the place from whence he came. He got leave to stop for the day, till he should have written orders from Pretorius. These he received next morning, and then turned homeward with a sorrowful heart.

““* ou will thus see to what trials and discouragements the missionaries are exposed. It may truly be said, ‘They labour in vain, and spend their strength for nought.’ The natives are confounded. They have always been led to believe that the English nation is

not only powerful, but benevolent and generous, and that they should now drive away their rebels to destroy them is a puzzle. It is calculated to produce a degree of scepticism as regards missionaries, especially as it has been judged proper and prudent for the latter, as men seeking the welfare of all mankind, to be conciliatory towards the Boers, hoping thus to prevent hostility. This is difficult for the poor barbarians to understand. Their minds are distracted; nor do they pay attention to the instructions imparted. If some measures are not speedily adopted by our Government it seems likely that every mission in those regions will soon be broken up. We have not had darker prospects for twenty years than we have now. Mr. Livingstone seems inclined to go to the lake; but if things continue as they are he will have to penetrate from the west coast.”