Some time before the opening of the fourth session of parliament in 1882, in course of correspondence with the Hon. Colonel Schermbrucker, M. L. C. for King William’s Town, I proposed to him that before parliament met we should make a tour through Basutoland, and see for ourselves the real position of affairs and the condition of the country, especially as so many conflicting statements were afloat. We agreed to meet at Maseru on March 1st, 1882. Determined that this appointment should be kept to the day, I left Kimberley at noon on Feb. 26th for Bloemfontein, en route to Basutoland.

Arriving at Boshof, a rising Free State town, in about six hours, we changed horses, and proceeding on our journey spent the whole of a delightful summer night, which a brilliant moon lit up as light as day, in speeding over the plains of the Free State. But what torture we suffered between this place and Bloemfontein! The wagonette in which we rode was sadly out of repair, and I thought myself lucky in getting the back seat, but, alas! being also the lid of a box, the hinges of which were broken, it was misplaced by any sudden jolt, so I found myself as often in the box as out of it.

I had not seen the neat little town of Bloemfontein for ten years, but I found it had not developed much during this interim. My previous errand had been of a very different kind. Then the whole of the state was in painful suspense on account of the critical state in which their president, Mr. (now Sir John) Brand, was lying. The executive, fearing the worst, determined to obtain further medical opinion upon his case, and sent to Kimberley for Dr. Dyer, a leading practitioner there, and myself, to post over with all speed. Our consultation with the president’s physicians was not hopeful, and we left, expecting the worst; however, some days after our return we learned that the disease had taken a favorable turn, and we had the satisfaction in a few mails to hear of the president’s gradual restoration to health.

During the few hours that I rested at Bloemfontein I had the pleasure of meeting his honor again, older and greyer certainly than he was ten years before, but looking full of health and vigor, “his age like a lusty winter, frosty but kindly.” He was sitting in his private room in the magnificent block of government buildings erected lately by the state. On introduction, he recognized me at once, spoke feelingly of the past when last we met, and asked me to dinner, an invitation which I was unable to accept, owing to my previous appointment with Colonel Schermbrucker on the first of March, which I had barely time enough to keep. I started the same afternoon in a special cart for Ladybrand, and traveled again the whole of the night. After “moving accidents by flood and field,” overturning the cart, losing the mules, getting wet through and nearly drowned in the Modder River, I at last outspanned for a couple of hours at Modderpoort, ten miles from Ladybrand, a mission station conducted by members of the Anglican brotherhood, who had been settled there since 1870. Father Douglas, the present head of the community, kindly showed me round the mission station. I saw the pretty stone church with its stained glass windows and solemn aisles, and the substantial mission house for the priests, but that which interested me most was the sight of the cave at the bottom of the garden in which during the early years of the mission Father Beckett, the founder, used to live. This good old priest, after years of arduous work, was called to his rest last year (in 1884), regretted by the whole country side.

Bidding farewell to Father Douglas I reached Ladybrand at 6 P. M. “All’s well that ends well,” a good rest and sleep enabled me to start early next morning for Maseru, escorted by a well-known Basuto head man named Makolokolo, who with an escort of ten men had come to meet me. The scenery between Ladybrand and Maseru is magnificent, the mountains, with the grassy plains rolling between, to one who for years had seen nothing but heaps of diamond debris and tailings from washing machines seemed inexpressibly and over-poweringly grand. As we rode on to the drift of the Caledon we passed a long range of hills, where I saw the first signs of the war that had been raging. By faint curls of smoke high up the hillsides, mounting in the air, my attention was drawn to the presence of a number of refugee Basuto women and children living ensconced in caves, who had received permission from the Free State government to squat there pending the settlement of affairs.

Galloping quickly on, at ten o’clock I arrived at the drift of the Caledon River crossing to Maseru. I found the river running in torrents, the pont or horse ferry, damaged the day before, unworkable—in fact the late heavy rains had upset everything, but there, on the other side of the river, exact to the day and hour fixed months before, I could see my friend, the colonel, waiting. A hearty shout of recognition and welcome greeted me, and jumping into a boat I was safely landed on the other side, in Basutoland.

Our progress to Maseru from the Caledon River, about a mile, was one triumphal procession. As members of the Cape parliament who, the loyals knew by report, sympathized with their sufferings, Colonel Schermbrucker and myself were heartily welcomed by these poor broken-hearted people. They regarded us as men who would be able from personal knowledge and inspection to bring their cruel wrongs and sufferings before parliament, reveal their exact condition, and show the world, at least the South African world, the sad plight and the miserable state in which their loyalty and their belief in the flag of Old England had landed them.

Hundreds met us on the banks of the river; the crowd, “lumelaing” (saluting) us and singing and dancing their war dances, and increasing in numbers until our arrival at Mr. Trower’s store when we arranged with the leaders to have a meeting or pitso in the afternoon.

Maseru is a prettily situated village just on the confines of Basutoland, and during the war was an important rendezvous and depot. By good fortune I found an old brother, if not in arms in lancets, Dr. Cumming, stationed here, who invited me to accompany him to the camp of the Cape mounted rifles, when I spent a pleasant hour lunching with him and other members of the staff.

A splendid view of Maseru and the surrounding country is obtained from the high plain on which the camp was pitched.

From our open dining tent I could see on one side the winding Caledon, rushing along in torrents, on the other the grassy plain with the camp and its surroundings, whilst in front, below us, lay the pretty village of Maseru with its houses and stores, its trees and its gardens, and the residency which a short time before had witnessed a most plucky and successful defence against the attacking hordes of Masupha’s rebels. As a background to this lovely scene, three hills nicknamed by our troops, “the world, the flesh and the devil” completed the picture.

In the afternoon there was a large meeting of the loyal Basutos, and we heard from their own lips the story of their sufferings. Among the speakers was Sofonia Moshesh, whose magnificently built stone house I afterward saw in the distance when going to Thaba Bosigo, Makolokolo, a clever, far-seeing man, whose opinion was much thought of by the Basutos, Inodi, Jacob Matseke, N’tsane Moshesh, whose house surrounded by a forest of 2,000 gum trees is a sight ever to be remembered. The enthralled attention and eager anxiety of the assembly struck me very much, and it was impossible not to feel for men like Sofonia Moshesh and N’tsane Moshesh who had lost everything by their loyalty to the government. but who still trusted, still “hoped on” that justice would be done them.

The petition which was to be presented to parliament setting forth their grievances, and praying the house to allow three chiefs they had chosen to appear as their spokesmen at the bar of the house, was signed by all present, and the pitso broke up with loud cheers for the Queen.

After the pitso was over I walked up with Colonel Schermbrucker to the residency, saw how the place had been stormed and riddled by bullets on the day of the memorable attack on November 20th, 1880, and then went to see the accommodation provided for the “loyals,” of which we had heard so much. Tents all tattered and torn, affording no shelter from either the wind or weather, we found were the only housing provided for these loyal natives, who by obeying the orders of the government had been rendered destitute, robbed of their cattle, driven from their gardens and their fields, from house and home! We came away impressed with the fact that the conception formed by our loyal friends of England’s justice and power must be very mythical indeed.^[83] Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s graphic and powerful description of the condition into which the province of Oude was brought by the emissaries of Warren Hastings is exceedingly applicable to the condition in which we found these deluded people. Well could they also say “this damp of death is the mere effusion of British amity! We sink under the pressure of their support!... They have embraced us with their protecting arms, and lo, these are the fruits of their alliance!”

Next day we rode through Ladybrand to Ficksburg, a distance of sixty miles, accompanied by Makolokolo and some ten mounted men. Arriving late, after a hard day’s ride through a country not at all interesting, we rested the night, having previously arranged to meet the chief, Jonathan (the late chief Molappo’s son), and his people at Leribe on the following day. Starting early next morning, we were met on this side of the Caledon drift by 200 of Jonathan’s men on horseback sent to escort us to Thlotsi Heights, the seat of the magistracy, and the place where hundreds of his men (loyals), driven from their homes by the rebel Basutos (like those whom we saw at Maseru), were squatting together depending on the government for food and protection.^[84] Crossing the Caledon, the chief Jonathan met us, and Colonel Schermbrucker introduced me to him.

This chief is a noble specimen of the Mosuto, not very tall, but well made, though slightly stout, and with an intelligent and frank expression of countenance. He was attired in the undress uniform of a British officer and magnificently mounted. He conducted us to his house at Thlotsi Heights, where we had coffee and rested about an hour, when we started for Leribe. I shall never forget my ride. The whole of the Basutos who were at Thlotsi Heights joined us, every one mounted. Jonathan provided horses for Colonel Schermbrucker and myself, and we rode in front, Colonel Schermbrucker on one side, I on the other, the chief in the middle, with a cavalcade of at least 500 mounted men behind. The morning was bright and cheery, the air seemed charged with electric freshness, the grassy turf was like a spring-board, so never drawing rein, we raced along to Leribe, doing the nine miles in forty minutes.

On arrival I was astonished at what I saw; we off-saddled in front of two large stone houses,^[85] built about ten years ago by Molappo, one for his white visitors, the other for his own use. The accompanying view I took at the time. The interior was beautifully furnished, and even pictures graced the walls, and this right in the heart of Basutoland, where civilization was supposed to have scarcely penetrated.

We rested a short time, were then invited to partake of what was really a fine dinner, after which we spoke to the large gathering of Basutos who had assembled to meet us, and listened to their mournful story, when after signing the petition^[86] for me to present to parliament, the meeting broke up by singing the national anthem.

Mr. Maitin, the son of a much esteemed French missionary who interpreted for me, took at the time full notes of what the different speakers said. All their observations were to the point, and the quaint manner in which they were put well illustrated the shrewdness of the Basuto character, evidently wishing to imply only, amidst the tale of all their cruel sufferings, the one fact ever brought to the fore, “civis Anglicanus sum.” These notes he afterward sent to the Cape Times, from which paper I make a few extracts.

After giving some introductory remarks which I made to the large assembly, Mr. Maitin proceeds to report more in extenso what fell from the different natives of standing present.

Piet Makolokolo (to whom I have already referred as a man much trusted by the loyals), Sofonia, Kampa, Jacob Moseki, and other prominent men told their tale of suffering and neglect. Koadi’s and N’tsane Moshesh’s speeches, however, I give in full, as they contain the gist of what the other speakers said.

Koadi said: “I am very glad to see Dr. Matthews amongst us, and I was glad when he came to Maseru. I am very thirsty and I believe he can help in quenching my thirst. In short, I will state I agree entirely with what has been said by Sofonia, and with the petition which has just been read to us. We approve of what it contains. I ask you loyals if we speak truth in that petition? Your answer is ‘Yes.’ I will be short, as time is pressing. We are now in great misery. We are men who cried out to those in power to do something for us. Now I ask what are they going to do? I fully agree with Sofonia; he is right in saying the loyals are all crying, suffering, and in misery for their loyalty. He is right in saying before the rebellion we were rich, free, and independent, but now are poor and suffering.

“Yesterday some of my men came to me and complained of the bad tents, which do not afford shelter from the rain and cold, and reproached me with having persuaded them to follow the government. I do not say for a moment we have been wrong to remain faithful to the government. We all know that we received the Queen’s government from the hands of Moshesh, and as far as I am concerned I will be faithful to the government till the government casts me off. I have still, even now, great faith and hope, as I see a member of parliament amongst us, which proves to me that the colony will see us righted. As Sofonia says, we were killed because we were faithful. Must we die again? I hope if the first doctor fails the second will cure us. I think our petition contains all we wanted to say.”

Question from Dr. Matthews: “What has Koadi lost?” “I have only lost five head of cattle, taken from the Free State, but my people lost cattle and horses. My great loss is one greater than any amount of cattle, and that is my ground and my rights. Those who rebelled fought because they wanted the right of the ground, which I have lost, and which is my great loss. As a grandson of Moshesh I had rights and lands, with which I could do as I liked. When we were told about disarmament, before the rebellion, and were ordered to give up our guns, I came three times to Colonel Griffith, and told him I did not wish to separate myself from my gun, and he answered me by taking the Peace Preservation act, and saying, this is the law. I did not like to give up my gun, but I obeyed the law. Mr. Sprigg then came to Basutoland, and when Colonel Griffith informed us he was here I went to see him, and Colonel Griffith introduced me to the then colonial secretary; he asked me to state what I had lost, and he said that my property should be restored, and that the governor would protect my life and property. I will not relate how we were nearly destroyed, as Colonel Schermbrucker, who was our commandant, can witness on Oct. 20th, 1880; he has remained faithful to us during all our troubles. We hear it is peace, but we do not see it. I am glad Dr. Matthews took the trouble to come to us. I want to show him our food (an old biscuit was here produced); this is the food the government gives us, the government which promised us protection; we are often sick after eating this provision. The government was not able to protect us last year, so during the war we were well fed, but now this is the description of food we receive. I should like Dr. Matthews to take a walk and see our houses, huts and tents, and the manner in which we are now living, and, if he could go and see our old homes, villages, etc., and compare them. When you do compare them you will know who are the people who have suffered much, and what they have suffered. During the war the rebels did not suffer, because they had all our property and everything they wanted; they are still now the masters of the country, and of our property. We have been in this state of destitution for two years. Many of the present people are chiefs, but they are so badly dressed that you could take them for common people, and this is one of the results of their loyalty. It is a great pity that Dr. Matthews has not more time to spare, otherwise every one could speak to him. I blame Mr. Sprigg for our condition, because he made us promises, but it was not his fault if they were not carried out, because he had to go out of office; it was for his successors to fulfill those promises. I again thank Dr. Matthews for all his attention.”

N’tsane Moshesh followed in the same strain: “I greet Dr. Matthews and all the loyals. I cannot say how thankful I am that he has taken the trouble to come and see those men who remained faithful to the Queen. Moshesh handed over to the Queen his country and people, and here are the few people who remained faithful. I thank Dr. Matthews for coming here to see our miseries and to ascertain the true state of affairs. I endorse every word stated by Sofonia and Koadi. I have nothing to add. The petition contains the substance of our feelings, and every word of it is true, and I have only to thank Dr. Matthews for his trouble. I do not want him to think that because we are black we have no feelings. It is perfectly true what Koadi said—that we deceive our people, for they ask us now: ‘Where is the protection of the government?’ Another thing is, we speak only for Maseru, no loyal has been able to return to his home. Sofonia, Lefoyane, Koadi and myself were the first who said we would go back to our homes—we were anxious to do so, because we valued them. I went to my village according to Mr. Orpen’s^[87] order, and found all my land divided between Theko Letsie and Mama Letsie; and who divided thus my property? who, but the man who calls himself the head of the loyals, Letsea, my brother! As it is stated, in the petition my ground, etc., cannot be valued in money, and I will never accept money as compensation. Cattle, horses, etc., are nothing, but to lose my rights as a chief grieves me. In cattle I lost 370 head—government gave me three! Every one knows how my village was planted with blue gum trees; there were 1,862 trees beside houses and other property, and now I live in a tent. I cannot state all that I would like to say as time is so pressing.”

After finishing this speech, all the Basutos, as I mentioned before, signed the petition, and I closed this most interesting interview by a few words of encouragement, to which Koadi, in the name of all present, replied: “I return thanks to Dr. Matthews for the loyals, and I am glad to hear there is hope of justice for them in the breast of Englishmen. We have heard of Moses, but we have no Moses, but perhaps you will be our Moses, and deliver us out of Egypt.”

The pitso being ended I rode back to Thlotse Heights, and bidding “good-bye” to Colonel Schermbrucker, who went to Ladybrand, I spent the night at the house of Dr. Taylor, the government surgeon. In the morning the chief Jonathan came to see me. We had a long talk on Basutoland affairs, and on leaving he presented me with a valuable pony as a memento of my visit. I left for Ficksburg next day and pushed through to Maseru, where I arrived late at night.

Before taking my trip to Leribe to interview Jonathan and his people I wrote a letter “greeting” to Masupha, asking him to grant me an audience, and also leave to visit “Thaba Bosigo” (the mountain of night), where he was living. On my return I found a message waiting me from Masupha, giving me the requested permission, and saying that he would be glad to see me. So early on the following morning (March 7th) I left Maseru with a native escort under Koadi, a grandson of Moshesh, passing the Berea on my left, which was the scene of the terrible disaster which befell Gen. Sir George Cathcart, then governor of the Cape Colony and high commissioner, in 1852, of which the following is a brief outline:

The general, at the instance of Mr. Commissioner Owen, then in the sovereignty (now the Free State), had advanced in November of that year with some 2,000 troops as far as the Berea to demand of Moshesh 10,000 head of cattle and 1,000 horses for not complying with an award of Major Warden’s forbidding him to cross over the border line between Basutoland and the sovereignty under penalty of giving offense to the Queen and incurring a severe penalty.

With the troops he had with him (Colonel Hare of the 73d regiment) taking the advance command, Sir George ascended the Berea mountain, the top of which forms a large plateau, in three places, to attack that wonderfully astute barbarian and punish him for breaking his agreement. There was a heavy mist on the mountain at the time, and our men mistaking the Basutos for so many cattle, on discovering their error fled panic-stricken. Some in retreating jumped over precipices in the mountains and were killed, while the others who escaped continued their flight far into the night to Platberg in the sovereignty. More than one hundred officers and men lost their lives on this occasion, and it is said that the general never returned to bury their bodies, this melancholy office being performed by the missionaries in the neighborhood. Moshesh, next day, diplomatic enough, was profuse in his excuses for the attack, and sent cattle as a token of his submission, which General Cathcart was only too glad to accept.

Going a little further I passed Boquatie, a curious village of people who came from the Vaal River in 1833, and at noon I arrived at the French Protestant mission station of the Rev. M. Jousse, situated in a lovely nook at the foot of Thaba Bosigo. Riding here from Maseru I was able to gain some insight into the richness and fertility of the country. For miles and miles, across a splendid valley, nothing could be seen but waving corn; its luxuriant growth, however, did not surprise me when on crossing the deep water gullies I could see no end to the depth of a continuous alluvial deposit. M. Jousse’s station was a sad sight to contemplate. Here was a church seated for 800, a boarding school with accommodation for fifty native girls, a day school, a mission house with every token of French elegance and polish, gardens with rare fruit trees and a yard around, kept scrupulously clean, while melancholy indeed was it to find all this virtually useless; the war had put a stop to the civilizing influence of the good missionary! The school was empty, the church deserted, he alone remaining at his post waiting until “wars and rumors of wars” had passed away.

M. Jousse accompanied me to Masupha’s and kindly interpreted for me. We found preparations had been made for our visit.

Under the shade of a spreading tree near his house skins had been laid and chairs arranged, Masupha showing unusual civility by receiving us at once. I had heard many reports of Masupha’s drinking habits, but he was quite sober. Of middle height, well dressed in European costume, a little beyond middle age, with a slight nervous twitching of the face, I now saw before me the man, black though he was, who had defied and was still defying the Cape government! Deep, clever and crafty, this was the man who had out-manœuvred ministers and statesmen! Lepocquo, with several other of Masupha’s sons and councillors, were present. Masupha freely went over the course late events had taken and closed our interview by saying: “As far as the loyals are concerned I will never have them back, before the war they were always quarreling, now it will be worse; as to the magistrates, they ran away of their own accord when the war began, it is now a question whether they should be allowed to return,” and, continuing, he said, “you talk about hut tax, refer this to a pitso of the nation, and as to guns, Sprigg has got five, he is kicked out,^[88] so must the gun-tax be, too.”

I came away feeling that it would require millions of money and thousands of men to alter this wily chief’s determination to remain entirely independent. The Cape government had also become aware of the exigency of the case, and this led them to inquire whether her Majesty’s government would permit them to obtain the services of Maj. Gen. Charles George Gordon, C.B., R.E., “for the purpose of consultation as to the best measures to be adopted with reference to Basutoland,” and “to assist in terminating the war and administering Basutoland.” Chinese Gordon accepted the invitation of the Cape government, but found on his arrival in the colony that the only post offered him was that of commandant general of the colonial forces, a post he had refused two years before. Although General Gordon came to the Cape with the sole object of quelling the rebellion in Basutoland, yet he accepted this appointment, looking upon it merely as a temporary one until another position could be found for Mr. Orpen, who was then British resident in Basutoland. Gordon, on May 21st, addressed a minute to ministers on the Basutoland question. In this it could be seen he had intuitively grasped the position, and did not believe in setting up brother against brother, or in other words hounding on the Basutos to destroy one another. His various memoranda on this and other subjects were passed over in silence by the Cape government, although, believing in the opinion he had formed, he had offered to go and live as resident with Masupha for two years in order to settle matters.

About this time Mr. Sauer, secretary for native affairs, met General Gordon at King William’s Town and begged him to go with him to Basutoland. Gordon reluctantly consented, as he had formed an opinion diametrically opposed to Orpen’s policy, and thought his presence would be of no service; moreover, after his interview with Letsea (a chief supposed to be acting in concert with the government), he had become more convinced than ever that the government were taking steps in the wrong direction.

Mr. Sauer then persuaded him to visit Masupha, as a “private individual,” to see what could be done, but, can it be believed, at the very time General Gordon was undertaking this journey a force under another loyal chief, Lerothodi, Letsea’s son, was actually sent to attack Masupha.

By sheer force of character and moral power, which were his great levers, he disarmed Masupha’s suspicions of treachery as far as he, Gordon, was concerned, and was allowed by that chieftain to leave “the false position” into which the Cape government, or rather the acts of one of its ministers, had forced him.

Gordon telegraphed his resignation to the Cape government as soon as he arrived at Aliwal North, which was accepted, and he soon after left the colony. The unnecessarily insulting and narrow-minded conclusion to the telegram sent to the general by the Cape premier, Mr. (now Sir Thomas) Scanlan, is now, since that hero’s lamented death, a subject of such world-wide ridicule that I may be excused quoting it once more: “I regret to record my conviction that your continuance in the position you occupy would not be conducive to public interest.” It will ever be a source of gratification to me that I had the opportunity of meeting this noble man.

To return to my narrative. M. Jousse accompanied me several miles on my road to Roma, the principal Roman Catholic mission station in Basutoland, which is built on land given to the Roman Catholic community by Moshesh in October, 1862. Our road ran around the foot of Thaba Bosigo by the pass where Wepener was shot in the Boer war with the Basutos, and past Job’s village, which fringed, so to speak, the mountain with cultivated trees and with houses built in European style. Passing St. Michael’s, another R. C. mission station, I descended into the valley and wound my way round to Roma. This station is most picturesquely situated. At its back a range of hills protects it from the south wind, while just in front a pretty mountain stream runs along, lazily turning a mill wheel as it courses by. The fathers (oblates of Mary) received me most hospitably. They showed me over the station, consisting of a fine mission house, two long double-storied buildings, one used as a dormitory for boys, of whom there are at least fifty resident, the other for girls, whose number, though about the same, varies.

These buildings, together with the necessary workshops and tools for teaching the boys various trades, a separate cottage for visitors, and a large church capable of holding 1,000 people, shaded by a perfect forest of gum trees, afford an example of what energy and perseverance can accomplish. I must not forget to mention as well that the garden in front of the mission house, arranged in beautiful terraces planted with orange trees, vines, fruit trees and flowers, conveys of itself at once the presence of refinement and civilization. I was fortunate enough to be in time for evening prayers, and heard the magnificent intoning of the Basuto boys, their voices severally blended being perfectly wonderful.

In Basutoland there are at the present time in connection with the French R. C. mission seven stations, five priests, three brothers and eighteen nuns, belonging to the community of sisters of the Saint Famille of Bordeaux, the first members of which sisterhood arrived at Roma in April, 1886, following Monseigneur Allard, the Rev. Mr. Gerard and Brother Bernard, who came up to Moshesh, the paramount chief of the Basutos, in October, 1862.

At Roma, the head station, named by Moshesh Motsi wa M’a Jesu, “the village of the Mother of Jesus,” there is every Sunday an average attendance at the church services of 800; and I am authentically told that the number of natives who every Sunday attend the different churches belonging to the mission throughout the country is at least 1,500. This is, however, nothing when compared with the attendance at the various grand feasts of the church, where at Roma alone it is no unusual circumstance for 6,000 or 8,000 to congregate. New Year’s day may be called their national fête. This year Letsea, the paramount chief of Basutoland, attended the ceremonies at Roma on that day, accompanied by an immense retinue of mounted followers; the throng was so great that a rustic altar was erected amongst the trees, “and a grand and singular spectacle it was,” the Rev. Father Deltour tells us, “to behold these thousands of sable figures, massed together under these trees anxious to witness the great act of Christian worship.” He further goes on to describe the incidents of the day: “Never in my life did I witness such perfect order and instant obedience in such a multitude. It was simply wonderful.” The paramount chief addressed the meeting in the following words, which I quote from a letter of the reverend father:

“‘I came to Roma, as the Rev. Father had invited me, and right glad am I that I did come and witness the work that is carried on in this mission. Here the Rev. Fathers and the Sisters sow the seed of peace and of religion. This is a village of peace and prayer. In their prayers they invoke the help of the Holy Virgin, as the Rev. Father has explained this morning; and in my opinion they are right. It is prayer that sustains our life. Basutos, be united to your chief, be one nation under one chief, or you will divide yourselves and be lost. Look at the stream which descends from the mountain; it gathers strength because its waters are not divided, but run compact toward that mighty something which I know not, and which is called the sea. Do likewise and you shall be strong. Let the Fathers and the Sisters pray for our Basutoland; let them pray for rain, which is so much wanted. Pula!’

“In response to the royal speech a tremendous ‘Pula’ burst forth from all, and was echoed far and wide by the surrounding mountains.

“After Letsea had spoken and the meeting was over, the cliffs and rocks of the mountain side almost in an instant were covered with spectators anxious to see the races, in which a hundred horses ran, in the presence of an excited multitude. As evening drew nigh and the sports were drawing to a conclusion, the mass of people retired, no visitors remaining in the village.”

The Basutos are, as a rule, in their heathen state, unreliable, lustful, intemperate and overbearing, and the work of the missionary as he strives to render them faithful, self-controlled and modest is an appalling task, but one undertaken in full faith of divine guidance.

The French Protestant mission, which has its headquarters in Paris, first began its operations in Basutoland at Morija in 1833. It possesses at the present time fourteen head stations and eighty-two out-stations, with a staff of twenty-one European missionaries and 122 native catechists and schoolmasters. In 1884 the number of church members was 4,988, and of day scholars in the schools 2,947.

At Morija, the head mission station, there is a training institution for young men who study for the Cape elementary teacher’s certificate, a Bible school for the education of catechists, together with a printing-press for the issue of a bimonthly periodical in Sesuto called “Leselinyana” (or Little Light). So it can be seen that Protestants are vying with Roman Catholics in spreading religious training and instruction among this people.

During the late war, however, there was a distinct difference to be noted between the influence exerted by the R. C. missionaries and the Protestant. The Protestant, as a rule, interfered and even still meddle with politics; they showed themselves partisans of the late Sprigg ministry, and the consequence was that their influence declined, their congregations fell away, and their schools became deserted. The R. C. priests on the contrary, ignoring politics entirely, feeling their duty to be more spiritual than temporal, were rewarded by having their schools and churches as well attended during as before the war. As an instance of the estimation in which they were held, two personal friends of mine, Fathers Libihan and Cretinon, in December, 1880, were ordered by their bishop to proceed to this very place, Roma, in the heart of Basutoland. The war was just then at its height, when having to pass Thaba Bosigo, where Masupha, the head centre of the rebellion, was living, they were hospitably received and entertained until the following morning. Though I am a Protestant myself, I cannot but recognize that this speaks volumes in favor of the non-political interference of my R. C. friends, and the esteem in which they were held by the Basutos. Let any Protestant missionary have attempted this at the time, his life would have paid the penalty of his temerity, and a just punishment, too, I should have considered it; the mixing of religion and politics among natives like Basutos, being, in my opinion, an unpardonable mistake. This difference between the conduct of these respective ministers with regard to public matters was recognized even by the Boers in their war of 1865–68.

Bidding the hospitable monks adieu, I left Roma next morning in a pouring rain, with the guides provided me by the chief Jonathan, having made all the arrangements to catch the Capetown steamer at East London.

Stopping at Khorokhoro to breakfast, I continued my journey through a country mountainous in the extreme.

Leaving the Morija mission station (French Protestant) on my left, I was caught in a fearful thunder-storm, the rain coming down in torrents, but I luckily found shelter in a hut in a small native village which lay in my road.

Entering, I found myself in the midst of a Basuto family, consisting of father, mother and seven little girls from four to twelve years of age. Here I had the opportunity afforded me of noting the truth of that which had often been told me concerning the rapid progress in learning, the precocity in fact, distinguishing Basuto children. If either Mr. Moody or Mr. Sankey had been with me, their hearts would have leaped with joy; here in the heart of Basutoland I found the noise of the outside storm drowned in the music of some of their popular hymns. The chief favorites, sung over and over again, were “Ntoa sa Balumeh” (Hold the Fort) and “Mali a Konyana” (The Blood of the Lamb). No sight ever impressed me more with the important position music and hymns hold as factors in the progress of evangelization.

Luther’s enemies once said that he worked more harm by his songs than his sermons, and I felt that the same might in the nineteenth century be repeated by enemies of the Christian faith concerning these two celebrated American revivalists. even in the wilds of Africa.

It would be impossible to picture or portray a more peculiar scene! Outside, the howling of the raging storm, the peals of rolling thunder, the flashes of vivid lightning and the plash of the torrents of rain; inside, the Basuto youngsters stark naked, myself and guides crouching over the fire drenched to the skin, while strains familiar in years gone by were sung with all the vigor and fervor of aboriginal youth! As soon as the storm had passed over I rode quickly to make up for lost time, and crossing the dangerous drift of the Salt River, rested at the Boleka ridge thirteen miles from Mafeting. This was as far as our forces ever advanced during the war. The road goes over a ridge which is not very steep, and is a gap in the mountain chain. At the village close to the roadside I saw many relics of the late war. Fragments of shells were lying about (this being the pass which our troops tried in vain to force), and I saw one unexploded sixty-eight-pound shell doing the peaceful duty of serving as a seat for a Kafir who in happy ignorance was sitting on it drying himself at a wood fire!

After a short rest for my horses and guides, I went over the ridge and passed by the deserted intrenchments where our troops had encamped in virtual idleness for months. A tedious ride brought me to Mafeting, which I did not reach until far into the night; when I was very fortunate in dropping upon an old friend, the late Captain Aschman, who gave me a “shake-down,” for which, as there was no inn in the village, I was sincerely thankful.

Next morning I visited the broken-down wattle huts and ragged tents where the loyals were herded together. I found them far worse off than their confrères at Maseru, and grave were their complaints against the government. The rations allowed them were not sufficient, they told me, to allay their hunger, and I personally saw some emaciated looking women collecting and eating the corn falling from the horses’ mangers. These unfortunate creatures, stung by our ingratitude, irritated by our injustice, hoping against hope, almost, despairing of relief and yet remaining loyal, were enough to excite the sympathy of any true man, and create a loathing of the cowardly panderers to expediency who were then conducting the government of the country.

Having thoroughly investigated the condition of these people, I next visited the cemetery, a short distance from the village, which is full of interest. Here many an old colonist, “sleeps the sleep that knows no waking.” Among the many monuments to men fallen in the late war is a fine stone pedestal erected in memory of the disastrous affair at Kalibani, which will ever be remembered in colonial annals as the place where, on Oct. 19th, 1880, thirty-five of the First Cape mounted yeomanry, men principally from Grahamstown and Albany, and who formed the advance guard of General Clark’s relief column, were cut to pieces. Every one of these unfortunate men, except one who was shot at a long range, were, as Surgeon Major Smith, now practicing in the Diamond Fields, who examined the bodies, told me, assegaied and hewed to pieces with the greatest brutality by the rebellious Basutos under the chief Mama.

A magnificent view of the surrounding mountainous country is obtained from this graveyard. The Kalibani mountain, the Kolo, the Boleka ridge, Tweefontein, Lerothodi’s village away in the distance, and close below Mafeting itself, pass as in a panorama before the view.

The mushroom-like prosperity of Mafeting, brought about by the share it received of the lavish expenditure of £6,000,000 of colonial money during the war, had, however, at the time of my visit, completely waned, and many had been sorely disappointed by the sudden cessation of hostilities.

Leaving this place in the afternoon I reached Wepener the same night, and after receiving the kind hospitality of Mr. Fraser, the merchant of the place, started again at daybreak, and arrived at Aliwal North after a long day’s drive. A good view of the town, which is of considerable importance, possessing a valuable library, a nice little club, large church and well-filled stores, is obtained before crossing the fine iron bridge leading over the Orange River.

Staying the night, noon next day found me sitting behind four horses on the road to Queenstown, where, after passing through Dordrecht, I arrived at six o’clock, just in time to catch the night train for East London, where I arrived next morning (March 13th). After a rest I went round the town, saw the sights, being particularly interested in the reclaiming of land which was going on under government direction at the mouth of the Buffalo River, and which, at some not far distant date, will be of great value. The next day I was invited to a large picnic given by one of the boating companies, at a delightful spot in a wooded glen about four miles from East London, on the banks of the Buffalo River. Glorious weather, good company, beautiful scenery, charming music, a fine lunch, sparkling champagne; everything harmonized to make a pleasant day. Colonel Schermbrucker and myself were called upon to speak, and we complied in a few words. Returning in the afternoon to East London I spent the night reveling in the mazy waltz at a ball given in the Mutual Hall, and sailed next morning in the Melrose for Port Elizabeth, where I transhipped to the Grantully Castle for Capetown.^[89]

The opening of the Cape parliament following in a day or two, I found among the passengers ten fellow members of the house of assembly hailing from different parts of the colony, and proceeding to the performance of their legislative duties.

Among others on board I met Sir D. Wedderburn, since deceased, whose acquaintance I had formed in Kimberley, where I had the pleasure of entertaining him some few weeks before on his way round through Natal and the Free State.

Many a pleasant hour I spent talking over with him the various political topics of the day. His opinion of South African men and things had not been changed at all since I last saw him, and he told me “he had seen nothing in Africa which caused him in the least to alter the opinions he had formed before he came out.” I recollect his opinions on the then two all absorbing topics of the day, the Transvaal and the Zulu questions. These were very clear; he often said “we ought never to have fought for what we ought never to have taken,” adding in reference to the Zulu question, on which he had formed a decided opinion, “there was little pleasure in punishing men who bravely defended their native country.” Sir Bartle Frere’s “forward” policy found no supporter in him.

There was something irresistibly charming in meeting and discussing passing events with such a man. He impressed all who met him with the sincerity of his convictions and the honesty of his purpose.

Our journey, however, quickly drew to an end. The work of the session, we found on our arrival, had already commenced.

The main business transacted during this session was the passing through the house of assembly of an act, throwing further restrictions on the trade in diamonds, which I have already fully dealt with, the presenting of the petition of Jonathan Molappo, praying that a deputation of three Basutos might “plead their cause” at the bar of the house, which proved a profitless appeal, debates on Basutoland following ad nauseam, the grant of two extra members to represent Kimberley, and the introduction of the “Constitution Ordinance Amendment Bill,” allowing the Dutch language to be spoken in the house. This last measure met with no opposition, but became law on Jan. 14th, 1882. After this bill had gone through its various stages, Mr. Luttig, one of the Dutch members, rose and made the first speech in that language, expressing his gratification that no opposition was offered by his English speaking friends; but, though a Dutchman, he concluded by saying “that although it is my first speech in Dutch, it will most likely be my last, as I wish to promote harmony and good feeling, and when I speak, I wish my English friends who do not understand Dutch to know what I wish to convey.” This privilege has not since its concession been much used.

After the usual session in 1882, a short special session was held in January 1883, which was called to deal exclusively with the affairs of Basutoland, and arrange about the compensation of the “loyals” and other matters of importance. On my return to Kimberley in February after this special session, according to my previously expressed intention, I resigned my seat in the Cape house of assembly.

I then resumed full charge of my medical practice, until I met with a severe accident in December of the same year, when proceeding to inquire into some cases of suspected small-pox.