After writing so far about the Diamond Fields, their past and present condition, the climate, the geology, and the peculiar crime and legislation there existing, I will now turn to the early history of a region which, if it had not been for the wonderful discovery of diamonds, would yet have been the home of the half-caste Griqua, the indolent Batlapin, the marauding Koranna, the pigmy Bushman or the pioneer Boer.

Griqualand West, the official name of this part of South Africa, is bounded N. E. by the Cape Colony, S. by the Orange River, N. by Bechuana Land, E. by the Orange Free State, and W. by the Kalahari Desert.

The chief inhabitants, the Griquas, are a mixed race, many of them half-castes, who came from the Cape Colony and settled near the Orange River under Adam Kok (himself a half-caste, his father being a Dutch Boer and his mother a Hottentot slave) in 1795, who in course of time resigned his chieftainship to his son Cornelius. Cornelius Kok, being absent from his people for some time, during which he visited Lord Caledon in Capetown, found, on his return in 1816, the Griquas settled down and his son, “Dam Kok,” reigning in his stead. Dam Kok, becoming restless about this time, left Griqua Town in 1819, dying subsequently at Philippolis in 1837. Andreas Waterboer, formerly a schoolmaster and preacher under the London missionaries at Griqua Town was, after “Dam Kok” left the district, unanimously chosen chief, and his appointment was confirmed in 1822 by Lord Charles Somerset, governor of the Cape. Andreas Waterboer then set about redressing wrongs, was both well-intentioned and useful to the British government, being a “friendly and sincere ally,” as well as hospitable and open-hearted to all visitors, and by these means so consolidated his power that he received a special recognition in the shape of a silver medal, which was sent him by Lord Charles Somerset. Notwithstanding this, although backed up by the English government and Sir George Cathcart, he was continually worried by land disputes with Cornelius Kok (whom, in 1838, he had deposed from his office of provisional captain) until his death on Dec. 13th, 1852, relieved him from further trouble. His son, Nicholas, who was then quite a boy, succeeded him. Troubles increased, the English abandoned the sovereignty (now the Orange Free State) in February 1854, and Nicholas Waterboer hemmed in, on the one side by the Transvaal and on the other by the Orange Free State, formally appointed David Arnott, on Sept. 1st, 1863, to act as his agent, which he had in reality been for some years. Long before even diamonds were discovered, the Orange Free State had insisted that there could be no question as to their right to all the country between the Orange and the Vaal Rivers, but as the district was of little value, no special steps had been taken by that government to insist on their so-called rights.

When the first diamond was found in 1869, and attention consequently drawn to the discovery, as I have before stated, the banks of the Vaal became peopled with diggers and prospectors, and Waterboer, at once seeing his necessity to deal with this large and increasing influx, ceded all the land to which he laid claim, some 17,000 square miles, to the English, the allowance of £150 per annum, which the English government had paid to Adam Kok, Cornelius Kok, and then to Andreas, the father of Nicholas Waterboer, being increased to £250, and afterward, in 1877, to £1,000, with £500 a year to his widow after his death. The Orange Free State now asserted its rights, based upon its former demands of having purchased Adam Kok’s rights with the land in question. The misunderstanding resulting between the English government and the Orange Free State, ending in the former giving the latter a compensation of £90,000, I shall more fully explain further on, but I may say here that Nicholas Waterboer is a living example of the care (?) bestowed by the English government, as a rule, upon those aborigines it may take under its fostering care. Nicholas Waterboer, formerly the undisturbed possessor of this valuable tract of country, now ekes out a miserable existence at Griqua Town, having parted with his country, the farms allotted to him mortgaged, his pension swallowed up by hungry creditors, ruined both in body and estate, a drunkard and virtually a pauper! I endeavored both in the Griqualand West legislature and in the Cape house of assembly to obtain some information respecting this poor chief and the ultimate destination of his pension, but without success.

Any one asked to describe the policy of governments in the diamond fields under the British flag would give no better answer than “making pie-crust promises.” That was the policy of the first representative of British rule “under instruction,” and it has continued to be the most marked characteristics of his successors. Every new “hand” that has been intrusted with the reins of government started on his career by reversing the policy of his predecessors and making promises, which, if he ever meant to keep, he revoked shamelessly and recklessly, either to gratify his own caprice for party purposes, or under the “instruction” of the imperial nominee, whose seat is fixed in Capetown, and who puppet-like moves according to “wire.” It is therefore not to be wondered at if the inhabitants of the diamond fields have occasionally become furious and uncontrollable. The facts of the diamond field history speak for themselves. Early in 1871 there was a flutter amongst the population digging for diamonds on the banks of the river Vaal, occasioned by the announcement that Mr. John Campbell, an official of the Cape government, had arrived at Pniel to be British resident, to represent British rule under the Union Jack, to administer law and order, and to keep off at arms-length the two neighboring states, who were bent on getting the territorial rights in their own hands; the Free State claiming all the land on the near, and the Transvaal that on the off-side of the river.

The English were jubilant, the Dutch furious. Mr. Campbell did not venture to hoist the flag on the Pniel side, for Mr. Truter, a subject of the Free State, was already sitting there as the representative of the Free State and holding magisterial office under the flag of that republic. The great mass of the population moreover (which at that time could not have been less than 6,000 souls) was Dutch, the proportion being about two to one. The Klipdrift bank of the river was peopled chiefly by Englishmen who were determined to hold the territory on which they had settled against all comers; to preserve their nationality; to pay no tribute to any Dutch state, and to secure their position by the aid of British rule; so that, when Mr. Campbell arrived, they were quite ready to welcome him and to rally round the British flag.

A number of diggers went across the river to Pniel to escort Mr. Campbell across the Vall, and all who did not do so assembled at the landing place on the Klipdrift side to receive him. He landed in Klipdrift amidst the cheers of the populace; a procession was formed to accompany him to his quarters, and when a day or two after he met the diggers he was as prolific of promises as a bramble is of blackberries.

All the diggers’ committees then in existence bowed down to him, and he assured them that no private right either to land or to claims was to be disturbed, that British titles would be immediately given to those who had obtained land either by grant or purchase from the chiefs or their agents, and that the law would be administered precisely as in every other part of her Majesty’s dominions. Three commissioners, Messrs. H. Bowker, F. Orpen and Buyskes, were appointed by proclamation to deal with the land, holding their appointments from the high commissioner, and all parties holding documents showing them to have land claims were requested to send them in at once to the commissioners, so that they might have titles substituted for them.

The territory at this time no more belonged to the British government than it did to the Mikado. Nicholas Waterboer, the chief of the Griquas, had it is true tendered his rights to the British government, but that government had not come to terms or closed with him. There were disputes between Waterboer and Janje, the chief of the Korannas and Batlapins; while Botlisatsi, a brother of Mankoroane, was contending that he was the chief of his tribe, and that his land included Bloemhof and Christiana.

Beside this the chiefs had no individual rights to land beyond those given them by their counsellors who represented the tribes, the native law being that the land belonged to the tribe, and that none of it could be disposed of to private individuals. The white men who had been permitted to settle among them had none but squatters’ rights, though the Boers had come in, marked out farms without leave being asked or given, had laid down beacons and denied that any natives had any rights over the land. When ordered off they refused to go.

Mr. Campbell some little time after his arrival proceeded to settle civil claims and to try criminal offenses, when it was discovered that he held office under the joint authority of Waterboer and the British government. This was a dilemma never calculated upon. The Griquas not being British subjects declined to be made subject to British laws, and Mr. Campbell was instructed to administer Griqua laws for the Griquas whenever it was applicable to the cases before him, and to do his best to satisfy all suitors. So Mr. Campbell, who had positively no legal jurisdiction, mixed the Griqua and British-colonial law and got along as best he could. The Transvaal government persisted in its protests against the British government exhibiting itself on the Klipdrift side of the river, and threatened to drive English and natives out of the country and claimed the land as their own. It was ultimately arranged, however, that this land dispute should be settled by arbitration, and this brought about what is known as “the Keate award.”

An arbitration board of three was appointed, consisting of Mr. Campbell for the British government, Mr. Jeppe for the Transvaal, and Mr. Keate, then lieutenant governor of Natal, to act as referee. The arbitrators met at Bloemhof, and witnesses were called from all directions, Griquas, Korannas, Batlapins, Barolongs, Boers and Englishmen all giving evidence. Of course the Transvaal and English arbitrators could not agree, and after a very protracted sitting Mr. Jeppe went “huis toe,”^[56] or home, Mr. Campbell following his example and returning to the diamond fields.

Lieut. Governor Keate then took the matter into his own hands, completed the arbitration and decided that the territory in dispute belonged to the native tribes, and that the Transvaal had no shadow of claim to it or any part of it. The award, however, did not deal with details, the whole of which and the conflicting claims of the natives were left to be settled in the future. No beacons were laid down by the arbitrators to prevent after disputes, and as may be supposed it was not long before the territorial and land questions bred troubles with which the civil powers were unable to cope without resorting to arms.

Mr. Campbell assured every one on his return that the British government had won the arbitration, and his reasons for so considering were that although the award was formally recorded for the natives the territory was sure to come into the hands of the British government. Those, therefore, who had lodged formal land claims were all the more eager for their titles to be registered.

The land commissioners as soon as they commenced discussing the principle upon which land should be dealt with came to loggerheads amongst themselves, Mr. Holden Bowker proposing that all the land at the disposal of the government should be given out on the Queenstown system, of which he was the author, to which suggestion his colleagues were opposed, each having a plan of his own. The “Queenstown system” of settling the land was granting to applicants land at a nominal rental, each grantee being bound to occupy the land personally, to keep a certain number of men provided with arms and liable to be called out when needed to go on commando, and to appear at an annual review to be held in the district.

The government to put an end to the wrangle informed the commissioners that it was not their duty to grant titles nor to settle the principle upon which the land was to be given out. Mr. F. T. Orpen, who had been nominated surveyor to government, declined to hold the office of commissioner any longer and sent in his resignation. He pointed out that it could not have been the original intention of the government that the commissioners should only collect the documents upon which land claims were founded, as one commissioner could have done that as well as three. There is little or no doubt, however, that the fault attached to this broken promise was committed at the instance of the imperial government, who had not yet settled with Waterboer, fearing the heavy responsibilities that would be involved in so doing.

This course of action made the Free State all the bolder in its demands and its authorities sent to Pniel demanding from the diggers the license money for claims and stands which, if paid, would have enriched the Free State treasury to the extent of at least £1,500 a month—the claim licenses being charged at a rate of 10s. each per month.

The Berlin missionaries, who laid claim to Pniel as their property, protested, and the English diggers, together with many of the Boers who hailed from the Cape Colony and were digging at Pniel at the time, refused to pay.

The Free State threatened force. The diggers laughed at the menace when the Free State government called out a commando, which was instantly responded to by the Boers, and quite an army of Vrijstaat cavalry came over the border and encamped on a flat situated close to the river, about three miles from the Pniel diggings. Tax-gatherers were sent in to warn the diggers that if they failed to pay the army would move in and smite them hip and thigh. Messages were returned more plain than polite.

At this time there were about 4,000 diggers at Pniel, so the Free Staters maintained “a masterly inactivity” for several weeks, when some of them rode into the camp and blustered considerably. The diggers simply regarded their invaders as so many butts for ridicule, and the natives, who thoroughly enjoyed the fun, added to the diggers’ amusement by jumping up behind the riders on the Boer volunteers’ horses, which were gorgeously caparisoned with navy-blue saddle-cloths richly adorned with embroidery of yellow and red braid, while other dusky humorists seized the tails of the horses, laughing and shouting with all the artless glee and abandon of the sons of Ham.

The “army” saw it was useless to attack Pniel and some of the wisest of them made their way back to their farms and donned their mole-skins again. The bulk of them thought, however, that they would try and force money out of the diggers at the smaller camps, and selected for the experiment Waldek’s plant (where a number of English colonists were at work) thinking to take them by surprise, but the Free State Boers have no more love for being taxed than have their brethren in the Transvaal or in the Cape Colony, and certain of them in kindly sympathy took care to let the Waldek’s plant diggers know of the movements of the army. When the warriors rode into Waldek’s plant they found themselves face to face with armed men behind two small field-pieces and were given to understand that if they did not wheel about and be off they would be fired at. The advice of Bombastes, “begone brave army and don’t kick up a row,” was given in sober earnest.

There was an immediate halt. A deputation was sent from the army to meet a deputation from the diggers, and a mutual understanding was arrived at that there should be no fighting. There was a general indulgence in the cups that cheer and also inebriate, and the Boer army returned as empty-handed as they came. Mr. Campbell did not venture to cross the river to the side where there was a Free State magistrate, nor yet did Mr. Truter, the Free State official, venture to steer his barque to the side where Mr. Campbell had hoisted the British flag.

When the diamonds were first discovered Sir Philip Wodehouse was governor and high commissioner of the South African colonies, but he was recalled before there was anything like a general rush to the fields, which only commenced in the beginning of 1870. Lieut. Governor Hay filled the acting appointment until Sir Henry Barkly became governor and high commissioner in 1870, and the latter had not been long in the Cape Colony before he came up; the Cape parliament having decided that he should, between the sessions of 1870 and 1871, make all the arrangements for annexing the diamond fields to the Cape Colony, and at that time the diggers looked on this annexation as inevitable.

Sir Henry went to the Klipdrift side of the river and was received with the most strongly-marked expressions of joyfulness at his arrival. Triumphal arches were erected and a banquet was given him, but he was very reticent and little information as to how the fields were to be governed was gleaned from him. The chief point of interest elicited from him being that the land would soon be given out.

This visit was followed by the establishment of a high court presided over by a single judge, Mr. Advocate Barry, (now Sir Jacob Dirk) president of the court of the eastern districts of the Cape Colony. Mr. J. Cyprian Thompson came as public prosecutor and there was soon a full bar, Mr. Campbell holding the position of resident magistrate and the late Mr. Giddy being civil commissioner.

The discovery of diamonds at Du Toit’s Pan and Bulfontein in 1870 caused a revolution in the order of things. The diamonds could at this time only be obtained at Pniel and the other river diggings by the troublesome operations of digging out and removing boulders of immense size, some of which were many tons in weight. The labor, as may be conceived, was tedious to a degree when the diamondiferous gravel had to be taken to the river, cradled, washed and sorted; all employed whites as well as blacks were standing in water half their time, and chills, ague and fever were the natural consequences. There was no water at the Du Toit’s Pan or Bulfontein, the diamonds were found near the surface, and the diamondiferous stuff only needed sieving before it was ready for the sorting table.

The rush from the river to what were called “the dry diggings” was one of the most remarkable ever recorded. In one week after the existence of diamonds at Du Toit’s Pan in payable quantities was assured, Pniel, which had grown into a town with a population of at least 3,000, and provided with shops, post-office, hotels, law courts, etc., became almost forsaken with nothing to be seen of its past glories, nothing left but the deep pits from which the boulders had been removed and a few straggling remains of roads and mud buildings. The population of Klipdrift had been reduced by at least one-half, but the houses and stores there being chiefly built of stone could not be removed; and here, too, were the English courts, the judge, the public prosecutor, the headquarters of the frontier mounted police, of which force a number had been moved up to the Fields together with the civil servants.

All that the English government claimed was the territory under the chieftainship of Waterboer. But the estate of Dorstfontein (Du Toit’s Pan) was the property of a citizen of the Free State, and he, as others had (although he was a British subject by birth), implicitly obeyed the laws of that state and was prepared still to be loyal to it and to submit to any digging laws that that government might pass and proclaim, and to pay any tax or royalty that the Free State Volksraad and government might see fit to demand. Mr. Truter, who had previously held his court at Pniel and hoisted the republican flag there, opened a court at Du Toit’s Pan, and English and Dutch alike respected his edicts and availed themselves of his court.

Happily for the diamond fields, diamonds were found on the Voornitzigt estate almost simultaneously with their discovery at Du Toit’s Pan, and this estate had been purchased by Mr. Alfred Ebden (now the Hon. Alfred Ebden, M. L. C.), of Old De Beers, on his first visit to Klipdrift, not with the remotest suspicion that there were rich diamond mines on it, but because of its close proximity to the already discovered diamond fields.

When diamonds were found on this estate there was less difficulty in the British government obtaining land for offices and courts than there had been before, Mr. Ebden being a British subject and therefore desirous that his property should be under his country’s flag, and he at once said that the government might take any ground which they might select as sites for the erection of buildings for official purposes.

At this time the local government was in the hands of three commissioners, Messrs. J. C. Thompson and Campbell and Commandant Bowker of the frontier mounted police, who were responsible to and acted under the instructions of the high commissioner. It was never clearly understood what their powers and duties were, nor could any one gather from their proceedings what it was intended they should do, except to act as buffers, so to speak, between the inhabitants and the high commissioner, and between the high commissioner and the president of the Free State. They continued their offices or “seat of government” as they called it, at Barkly, placing Mr. Giddy on the Voornitzigt estate as resident magistrate and civil commissioner, and appointing a small body of police to do his bidding, while they themselves paid periodical visits to the dry diggings, but never ventured into Du Toit’s Pan. When Bulfontein was found an attempt to gain possession of it was made by the Free State, but that was successfully resisted by the proprietors and diggers, who declined to permit what they called “the foreign yoke” to be placed about their necks. The high court, the post-office and all the English government offices were still centered in Klipdrift.

Whilst the river diggings existed it was not a public complaint that the natives stole diamonds. Occasionally a “nigger” was found to have concealed one, being egged on to the theft by some dishonest person who wanted to get diamonds cheaply.

When a diamond was discovered on a native he was “basted” with a sjambok. If he had disposed of it he was made to tell who bought it and the fellow was kicked out of the camp. The natives did not then know the value of diamonds, and they brought those which they found to their masters, but they were not allowed at the sorting tables and could only obtain diamonds from out of the claims. Very soon after the discovery of the dry diggings the character of the population underwent a change. Originally the diggers came from the colonies and adjoining states, and it was not until the early part of 1871 that Europeans came in any numbers. Then the class which in the slums of London live without labor began to put in an appearance, as I have mentioned before, and pitched their tents in these diamond fields.

From that time trouble began. They systematically bought stolen diamonds from natives or anybody, put up the niggers to all sorts of dodges by which their masters might be robbed, and on this becoming known Judge Lynch manifested his presence by the burning of the tents in which these evil doers resided, which blazed away night after night.

One man was taken to a tree and Judge Lynch delivered judgment against him to the effect that if he did not tell to whom he had sold the diamond he should be hung up by the neck until he was dead, and that such should be the fate of all buyers of stolen diamonds. The rope was put around the neck of the condemned thief, but the threat was not carried into effect, as those who were to perform the duty of executioners were told that they, living as they did under British laws, would be held guilty of murder if they carried out the sentence, and appalled at this they held their hands, and the native, for aught I know, lives to this day. White men keeping stores on the Voornitzigt estate were suspected, and one of them would no doubt have been torn to pieces had not some of his friends and companions come forward to save his life, when pale as death and shaking like an aspen leaf he declared that he was innocent. Nobody, however, believed in his innocence then, nor has he yet succeeded in convincing the old residents in his unsullied integrity. But by the skin of his teeth he escaped the vengeance of his justly infuriated enemies.

The firing of tents went on, and the commissioners had no power to interfere with any hope of preventing it; beyond a few policemen, they had no force at their command whatsoever, and hence could effect nothing themselves; they called, however, a meeting in front of the civil commissioners’ office, which was attended by many hundreds of diggers and others, the popular speakers saying that if the government would do nothing to protect their diamonds against thieves that they would take the law into their own hands. The commissioners were all present. Mr. Thompson, on the part of the commissioners, was the only one who was not trembling with fear. He said that he “would take care if any man, native or white man, was found either stealing diamonds, or in possession of stolen diamonds, he would punish him with the utmost severity of the law; but the law should not be that of Judge Lynch, and if he found a man setting a tent or other property on fire he would admit of no justification, and it would be useless for such a man to talk about stolen diamonds.” The learned gentleman would charge that man with arson, and he might be sure that he would receive the penalty provided by law for that crime.

He also said that the commissioners were considering what could be done to afford diggers protection, and would let them know when they had made up their minds. The meeting wanted to know if the commissioners would make up their minds by the following Monday. Mr. Campbell asked: “Will you promise not to set any more tents on fire until after Monday, and we will see what we can do?”

Mr. Thompson declined to be a party to any bargaining of that sort, and the meeting separated. There was no tent burning for some time after this.

Government by nominee commissioners was a mistake from the beginning. In both the elementary strength was lacking and the “main de fer” (certainly) and the “gant de soie” (probably) were both needed in dealing with so heterogeneous a community as that of the diamond fields. Sir Henry Barkly exerted himself to the utmost to make it work satisfactorily, but failed to do so. The system and the material were alike bad.

His excellency at that time thought that annexation would be perfected in the coming session of the Cape parliament, and was therefore anxious it should begin. That the commissioners must be got rid of was clear, as the diggers had shown themselves so completely dissatisfied with the existing order of things.

The land claimants had become clamorous for the titles which had been so long promised but were not yet forthcoming. The parliament of 1872 was convened but would have nothing to say to Sir Henry’s annexing proposals. This was another addition to the long list of promises which the people in the Fields had found to be violated.

The high commissioner was furious and would have liked to tell the honorable the house of assembly, his notions of the sense of honor possessed by M. L. A’s. who were in the majority. But scolding would not mend matters, and he therefore restrained himself from speaking out as he would liked to have done.

His excellency’s dispatches to the secretary of state for the colonies had inspired the imperial minister with confidence that the Fields would be readily taken over by the Colony, but when he found that was not to be he was no less furious than Sir Henry himself.

The adverse vote of the Cape legislature threw the onus of governing the Fields on the high commissioner himself; his correspondence with the president of the Free State was not only voluminous but provoked retorts from his honor which were not pleasant nor easy of reply, and personalities and loss of temper ensued; in fact the antagonism between these high officials was almost unprecedented, and existed for a considerable time.

The Boers of the Free State and all the Dutch in the Colony as well as in the Fields were in sympathy with the president, and they accused the high commissioner and the secretary of state for the colonies of having shamefully robbed the Free State of the territory for the sake of its diamonds. This charge, I may add, was believed in by a great many beside the Dutch, and it was asserted by some of the most influential journals in England that the home government would never have thought of setting up Waterboer’s claim to the territory in dispute had not diamonds been found to exist in it. This, however, was altogether untrue, for Sir Philip Wodehouse at the time when he was engaged in interviewing the British Kaffrarian annexation delegates at Aliwal North, who were opposed to the proposed absorption of their country by the Cape, was in correspondence with the president on the same subject, and complaining that the Boers of the Free State were encroaching upon Waterboer’s territory, and accused that state of having extended its boundaries beyond those marked out when the sovereignty was abandoned.

Moreover, long before any diamonds were discovered, Mr. David Arnott, the agent of Waterboer, had sent numberless protests to the Free State government respecting the Boer encroachments, and at a conference which had taken place on the same subject had produced evidence which he held to be more than sufficient to prove that Waterboer’s claim was incontestable.

On the 17th of July, 1871, the Colesberg Kopje, now the Kimberley mine, was discovered, and in November of the same year the whole of the diggings, without regard to title, were proclaimed to be under British rule. This was supposed to have been done in order to enable Sir Henry Barkly to perfect his arrangements for bringing about annexation during the session of parliament in 1872. His excellency little knew then how he was to be sold when the parliament met, but he afterward discovered, as we have seen, with how capricious and unreliable a house of representatives he had to deal.

The manner of proclaiming British rule was unique, to say the least of it. The commissioners who were still in power, and a good many not in power, were in a state of mental fever about the hoisting “the flag that braves” and proclaiming British rule. It was all very well for Sir Henry to instruct the commissioners to proclaim British rule, but who was to read the proclamation.

The Dutch in the Fields “swore with an oath or something as good,” that they would not be “brought under the British yoke,” as they called it, and threatened to take arms and “deluge the Fields with blood” if their state was deprived of the governing powers over the dry diggings. The English on the Fields contrasted the proportions of the Dutch and English populations, and the long odds against the latter if the Dutch should show fight. The most timid were sure that the Dutch would rise to a man, and the lives and property of the English would be sacrificed; and if the truth be told many an English colonist then in these diggings would as soon have seen the Free State as the English flag flying over them, and no wonder, seeing that imperial rule had been in several instances the cause of disaster to South Africa. It is hard sometimes for colonists to remain loyal and true to their nationality when they are treated with contumely, distrusted and scoffed at by the chief and subordinates of the imperial colonial department, as has occurred more than once in this colony.

However, the morning of the 17th of November broke upon the diamond fields—the day on which the Fields from Klipdrift to the Modder River, the whole area on which diamond diggings had been established, was to be proclaimed British. John Campbell, Esq., in his plaids and buckles, a model Highlander from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, slipped out of his office door, and with his colleagues was driven in a cart to the margin of the Colesberg Kopje. This illustrious commissioner, however, was not the man to “bell the cat;” that duty was taken upon himself by the late J.C. Thompson, then crown prosecutor and commissioner. The official car was surrounded by vehicles filled with loyals, loyals on horseback and loyals on foot, and Mr. Thompson read the proclamation from the scroll, which he unfolded and then nailed up to a hoarding close by. There had been a government Gazette published, but its place of publication had not as yet been moved to the dry diggings from Klipdrift, but whether the proclamation was gazetted or not I have never yet been able to discover, for when Mr. G. W. Murray asked for it, when he was a member of the legislative council, he was told by the government that the files had been lost!

Mr. Thompson, after nailing up a copy or the original proclamation, no one knew which, drove off in the triumphal British car to Du Toit’s Pan, followed by a long procession of horsemen and vehicles, amidst the shouts of the street mob and the melodious strains of an extemporized band, which, in honor of the occasion, was playing a colorable imitation of “The Campbells are coming.”

On reaching Du Toit’s Pan, Mr. Thompson repeated his proclaiming process there. The honorable gentleman unfolded a second scroll and read its contents, and then nailed up proclamation No. 2 on a hoarding. There was a great concourse of people who came to hear and see what was up. The multitude was a motley one. There were diggers Dutch and English, store-keepers and canteen-keepers, Dutch and English too, and diamond buyers with unmistakable Whitechapel marks or Bevis marks upon them, if the pun be pardonable. In the midst of the multitude stood the Free State magistrate and his clerk, both open-mouthed, very pale, and yet more astonished than pale. On referring to the paper on the hoarding, they found that Dutch as well as English had been enfolded in the arms of Britannia. There was no fighting, no bloodshed, but a good deal of tall talk. The Dutch authorities did not show bellicose intentions. The Dutch magistrate merely closed his court, locked his office door, put the key in his pocket, and paired off with his clerk to see the president to report the aggressive proceedings, and his place in Du Toit’s Pan “knew him no more forever.” The diggers went back to their work, after the customary indulgence in alcoholic stimulants. The general public exhibited few manifestations of joy, for it had even then begun to be whispered that if this were to be the prelude of annexing the Fields to the Cape, there was little in it for Griqualanders to glorify themselves over. A banquet was given at Benning & Martin’s hotel, Du Toit’s Pan, at which the officials secured front seats for themselves and their friends, and made the speeches of the evening, extolling themselves and each other, and becoming as full of loyal sentiments as they were of “Mumm.” From that day forth the rule was British, or supposed to be, but with the exception that the people had to pay more taxes there was nothing to indicate that “a vast, great, and glorious change” had taken place.