On returning to Natal after my trip to the East, I could at once see that this bright little colony had entered on a cycle of depression. This, as I have mentioned before, combined with other inducements, and the fact that the diamond fields afforded a wider scope for practice than the ever-decreasing population of Victoria County, determined me to sever my connection, at least for a time, with a district of which I shall always retain a most pleasing recollection.

I left for the Fields in the beginning of December, 1871, taking the usual route by Walsh’s passenger cart, via Pietermaritzburg, Harrismith and Bloemfontein to Du Toit’s Pan.

As I passed through Pietermaritzburg I called upon Lieut. Governor Keate, who inquired into the particulars of my adventure in Arabia, of which he had heard. He kindly granted me the further extension of leave from my official duties in Natal for which I asked, as I intended, if I did not like the diamond fields, to return. Crossing the river Umgeni at Howick, and passing through the small villages of Estcourt and Colenso, we came at last, after three days’ post-cart traveling, to the foot of the Drakensberg. The road winding up the mountain was very steep, but in first-rate order and repair. The road parties of native laborers which each chief has to supply in rotation to the government, for, I believe, a period of six months, at a fixed rate of pay, were evidently doing their work well, but nevertheless the climb was a fearful strain on our horses.

We arrived in safety at Harrismith, the first town of the Orange Free State, lying within a few miles of the top of the Drakensberg, and next day, after a splendid drive at a hand gallop all the way, over a road as flat as a bowling alley, with a perfect Jehu at the reins named Brandon, the heedless scion of a good old Irish family, came late in the evening to Bethlehem, a quiet Dutch town, with two or three English stores, where we rested for a few hours. Then inspanning again, on we drove past Senekal, a wretched little place of about 100 inhabitants, and Winburg, the centre of a fine grazing district, to Bloemfontein, the capital of the state. Here Mr. Brand, the President, since knighted (1882) by the English government for his services in the settlement of the Transvaal difficulties, after the war resided, as did also a bishop of the Anglican communion,^[18] but as it was dark when we arrived, I saw nothing of the city. I heard, however, sufficient reports of the dreadful havoc that fever of a remittent type was making among the residents on the diamond fields to make me anxious to arrive there as quickly as possible. We started next morning in the moonlight at 3 o’clock, and drove through, some seventy miles, to Du Toit’s Pan in one day. A long, dusty, tiring day it was, and as if to prove that “coming events cast their shadows before,” we met three or four ox wagons bringing away sick diggers from the fields, who had been stricken down by the prevailing fever.

The sun had long set when we neared Du Toit’s Pan, yet the camp, as seen in the distance was one blaze of light. The stores and canteens were open, thronged with customers, while the canvas tents of the diggers, some lit up with candles, some with wood fires, and others blazing with paraffin lamps, studded the surroundings of the mine as with a constellation of stars. When we arrived at Benning & Martin’s, the hotel of the day, the scene was one which almost baffles description. Clusters of men, work being ended, crowded round the post-cart to see the new arrivals, others thronged the adjacent liquor-bars, while every one showed signs of hurrying bustle and feverish excitement. After some refreshment, I took a short stroll through the camp. Novel sights and grotesque scenes met my view at every turn, the lights in the tents throwing “shadows on the wall,” in some cases of the most laughable description.

I shall never forget my first night on the diamond fields. When I returned to the hotel I inquired for a bed, but was assured that not one could be had for love or money. Martin, the landlord, however, made me up a shake-down as a favor, on the end of the long dining table, where amidst shouts of “play or take miss” from a party of excited loo players alongside I soon fell asleep. At an early hour on the following morning I took one of the many passenger carts plying to the New Rush, otherwise called Colesberg Kopje (Kimberley), and after a drive of about two miles wended my way to the mine on foot, along roads ankle deep in sand, bordered with stores and canteens built of iron, and with canvas tents of all sizes and shapes fixed promiscuously around.

Arriving at the edge of the mine I paused to observe the novel sight which met my eyes. In those days roadways extending from one side of the mine to the other were the scenes of constant traffic, the diggers carting along them the diamondiferous soil from the claims to sort it on their various depositing grounds. Carts, horses, mules, oxen and men crowded these narrow roads, on each side of which the claims were scarcely less thronged. The tout ensemble was most interesting. Every patch of ground was occupied, the whole resembling a hive of busy human bees, bustling and elbowing, creeping and climbing, shoveling and sieving, to gather, if possible, honey from each opening flower, or, to abandon metaphor, to turn out a diamond from each bucketful of soil hauled to the surface. Not less than 10,000 natives, and from 4,000 to 5,000 white men, I should think, were busily at work the morning on which I first saw the diggings.

I knew that the Natal Verulam Co. had claims in No. 3 Road, and on inquiry I was directed to their manager, Mr. G. J. Lee, afterward for a long period chairman of the Kimberley mining board. Just at the moment I found him one of his native servants had turned out a thirty carat diamond from a sieve which he was shaking, and having a slight tinge of superstition in my nature, I at once accepted this as an omen of good luck. While I was looking at the claims belonging to this company my ears were all at once assailed by a deafening roar, for without any warning all the natives in and around the mine ceased work and yelled out at the top of their voices: “Hullah!” “Hullah!” Such a babel I had never heard before, and on turning round I discovered that a lady standing behind me, who had come to see the mine, was the innocent cause of all the disturbance. On inquiry I learnt this was nothing new, but that the natives from the interior, who perchance had never seen a white woman before they came to the diggings, were in the habit of taking this method of expressing their surprise and pleasure. Patti, Nillson, or Marie Rozé never, I am sure, had a more enthusiastic greeting.

With Mr. Lee’s kind assistance, I got suitable quarters on the same day, and next morning commenced professional work. At that time there were only two qualified men on the fields, but of quacks “enough and to spare.” It did not take long for me to settle down into practice, and in fewer hours than those who cast their lot in communities where they are personally unknown, and where competition is keener, take years to establish themselves, I found myself with as much as I could do, my arrival being looked forward to by many Natalian friends, who seemed only too glad to see me among them once more.

The great majority of those who consulted me were suffering from camp fever, as it was termed, which was malarial, aggravated by exposure to the sun, tent life, bad water, obtained in the early days from exposed dams or polluted springs, imperfectly tinned meat and fish, a scarcity of vegetables, and last but not least by strong drink. Intemperance was and is, though not now to so great an extent, the curse of the diamond fields. I feel certain that, out of the number of cases (which during an extensive medical practice of fifteen years’ duration) I have attended among the white population on the fields, at least seventy per cent. can be traced either directly or indirectly to excessive indulgence in alcohol, while the name is legion of the innocent natives who have been poisoned by the vile preparations passing under the name of brandy. The only treatment for the local fever which could be relied on, and one by which its relapsing tendency could be thwarted, I soon discovered was to order the patient’s removal to a distance away from the malarial taint, the sea-side if possible, as soon as the more urgent symptoms were abated, as only through an entire change of air could complete restoration to health be expected within a reasonable time. The railway even in this matter has come to our help, as on the first approach of the fever, the desired change can be obtained in a couple of days, or even less, and a threatened attack possibly averted. Cases of typhoid fever sometimes occurred, while dysentery, usually of a mild type, also existed. Pneumonia, croup, diphtheria, and in fact the majority of the other diseases with which practitioners most commonly come in contact, were rare, a physician’s practice in the early days on the fields being almost a specialty. This, to a great extent, could be accounted for by the population of the diggings being comprised of healthy and hearty men, mostly in the prime of life. Accidents too were few and far between, the mine not being deep enough for the falls of reef or diamondiferous soil to be dangerous, and no underground workings existing, the dangers of steam, blasting powder and dynamite were as yet unknown.

In 1871 the fields were abounding, as I have said, in quacks, but since then the qualified medical men have increased from two to twenty-two.

The river diggings having existed for some time, matters there had assumed more of a settled appearance than at the dry diggings. A wattle and daub house, originally built for the Rev. Mr. Sadler, a clergyman of the Church of England, ministering there, was converted into the first temporary hospital, but being found too small a more permanent building was erected, which again in course of time made way in 1873 for a fine stone structure, which was unfortunately consumed by fire, and remained some time in ruins before it was rebuilt. It is now chiefly used as a convalescent home. The Diamond News of the day bitterly attacked me, because I pointed out the folly of spending money in erecting permanent buildings at Klipdrift, a place which was becoming rapidly more or less deserted by the digging community. The absurdity as well as the cost of sending men with broken limbs, and suffering with fever, jogging twenty-five miles over broken roads to a hospital, never seemed to strike those who, having property at Klipdrift, were attempting at the time to bolster up the place in contradistinction to what were termed the dry diggings.

The Dry Diggings were not, however, entirely without any hospital accommodation. A large marquee was erected in 1871 at Du Toit’s Pan, under the auspices of Father Hidien, the first Roman Catholic priest on the diamond fields, who himself a short time afterward fell a victim to his never ceasing devotion. I heard many accounts, when I arrived, of his unbounded charity and tender care of the sick. I will relate one incident which came under my especial notice, and which occurred toward the very end of his unselfish career. Not long before he himself was fatally stricken with fever, an unfortunate white man, a perfect fever wreck, covered with frightful sores and merely a living skeleton, came to him for relief. Father Hidien took charge of him, and several times a day, as no nurse could be got, would, with his own hands, wash his ulcerous wounds. In the first stage of fever, until weakness bound the kind father to his bed, he continued with unflagging zeal to relieve, as far as he could, the sufferings of this afflicted creature; but as the ravages of disease made increasing strides and the visits of the priest, as a matter of course, grew fewer and fewer, it was pitiable to hear this unfortunate fellow, who was lying in a small bell-tent near, make the air resound with his unceasing cries for the good father’s help. Thus he continued to beg and implore him to come to his side until he was told that the parting spirit of his Samaritan comforter had gone to the land of the “Hereafter,” whither he himself followed in but a few short hours.

It was not until the arrival in 1872 of Dr. Dyer, who had been in the government service of the Cape Colony, that two long, cool wattle and daub buildings were erected near the race-course, providing beds for about twenty patients. Dr. Dyer, Dr. Grimmer and myself attended to this hospital gratuitously for some time. Everything in those days was of the most primitive description. A large tent served as a dead-house, and I well remember, on one of my morning visits wishing to see the body of a patient who I was informed had died during the night, finding on going into this tent merely the trunk of the poor fellow’s body left; the prowling, ravenous dogs, which then roamed about, having devoured the poor man’s limbs, which they had torn in pieces from his body.

The first case of lunacy which ever came to my notice in Griqualand West I also saw here. Divisions constructed of mud and wattles were placed between the beds to promote extra privacy in certain cases, so this lunatic when brought in was placed in one of these inclosures. There was but one white man and his wife to superintend everything. The first time I saw this poor fellow I found him raving mad, without an attendant, or even a straight-jacket, tied down with ropes, struggling in his wild delirium. The scene, but for its sadness, would have been ludicrously grotesque. The madman having managed to withe his body round, and having gnawed a hole through the mud wall, and head all the time popping in and out like a “Jack in a box,” was attempting to worry the patient in the next bed, the latter though almost frightened to death, being too weak to move away. The whole place was a chamber of horrors worthy of the pencil of a Gustave Doré. Although the management was much to blame, and the public were apathetic, yet the doctors attending did not escape public criticism. I can even now call to mind one very scathing attack, which I believe had much to do with the removal of the building, in which Hood’s lines were applied to them:

At the time, also, I wrote to the Diamond Field giving a description of the wretchedness of the place, and did what I could to promote improvement.

The hospital, which was established at the jail, and which was entirely under government control, was even worse than the Dry Diggings hospital which I have just described. At the risk of being a little tedious I will give an extract from a description of this place which I wrote to the Diamond News July 7th, 1873.

“This so-called hospital is a tent about 12 feet by 9 feet in size without even a fly. Through this during the rains the water beats, and through the rents, which I also saw, the piercing wind on these cold nights blows as through a funnel on the poor wretched sinners within. It is not difficult for residents on these fields to picture further what the state of such a tent must be, after a blazing sun has poured its rays on it for hours in summer. Let us enter. Here a sight presents itself which I wish I could adequately describe. On the bare floor, deep in dust and sand, lie huddled together black and white, criminals and honest men, no beds, no bedsteads, some with only a blanket round them, and in this sorry plight they remain during the rains, exposed to the chance of the water every now and then washing, as it has done, right through, making the place rather a hot-bed of disease, than a refuge for the sick—the floor of the tent being lower than the surrounding ground. Here in the middle of the tent lay, with but an apology for a bed between his body and the ‘cold, cold ground,’ and with an old piece of zinc roofing at his head to prevent it from pushing through the canvas, a poor emaciated black, whose leg had lately been amputated; in one corner a poor blind creature sat piteously complaining, whilst in another corner a crouching native was busily engaged ridding himself of vermin!

“I need not particularise further. One white man there was, however, who told me he had been there twelve months. No doubt he could, if he would, ‘a tale unfold’ of misery and woe. Strewed in motley confusion on this dusty floor could be seen old clothes stinking with dirt, boots and shoes, crutches and soap, tobacco and tea-cups, salt and pipes, pans, buckets, a chamber utensil, half eaten provisions, an empty bottle holding a half burnt candle, and, as if in sorry burlesque, three or four Bibles provided with considerable forethought, no doubt to teach the unfortunate inmates the advantages of being ‘patient and long suffering in all their afflictions.’”

The miseries of these places, the exposés that took place, as well as the out-of-the-way situation of the Dry Diggings hospital, led the Southey government to see the necessity of increased and better accommodation, and a new hospital was built on the road between Kimberley and Du Toit’s Pan in 1874. Two or three days before it was to be given over by the contractors a serious fire broke out and destroyed more than half the building. The government, being short of funds, did not rebuild the part burned down, but made the portion which had escaped suffice for the wants of the community; and in Jan., 1875, the sole medical charge was given to the government officer, Dr. Dyer and myself being retained as consultants. The medical care of the patients was however in Jan., 1882 transferred from the hands of the government district surgeon to that of a purely resident surgeon, whose sole duty it was simply to attend to the hospital, government at this time resigning the management to a local board.

In 1876 the nursing care of the institution was undertaken by a certain sisterhood^[19] of nurses and associates, under the superintendence of their head, Sister Louise, and it is impossible to speak in terms of too high commendation either of her management or of that of Sister Henrietta, who succeeded her, and who still retains that office and administers its important duties in a manner which I cannot too highly praise.

The hospital received considerable addition in 1876, and again in 1882 had a large wing, an isolation ward and an extensive native ward added. The medical tax, passed by the legislative council of Griqualand West (No. 2, 1874) of one shilling per month payable by each native, was received by the diggers, when it became law, with much disapprobation. It was consequently allowed to remain in abeyance by the Griqualand West government, until hospital matters came under the management of the local board, which I have before mentioned, in 1882. Then it was revived, and has been since paid by the diggers and companies, without demur, the amount being as a general rule deducted from the natives’ wages. The amount has varied from £10,000 in 1882 to £6,000 in 1885. The Kimberley hospital is now larger than any institution in the colony, its working staff numbering over fifty, and it contains sixty-six surgical^[20] and forty-two medical beds for natives, twenty-nine for poor whites, twenty for paying whites, and an isolation ward with four beds. The number of cases treated here is enormous, the capital operations for the last quarter in 1885 counting forty-four, and the admissions amounting, during the same year, to 709 Europeans and 1,019 natives.

Returning to the early days of field life, the quacks soon found it advisable to take flight, as a steady influx of regularly qualified men was appearing on the scene, the only one retaining any kind of ground being a non-qualified homeopath. This quack was always, however, cautious enough to consult with qualified practitioners when his cases were in extremis, and by this means he escaped any penalty of the law, and procured a death certificate in proper order.

It seems passing strange, that in a sparsely populated though widely extended country or congeries of States, that a man possessing indubitable qualifications for the exercise of his profession, should be put to such frequent and utterly unnecessary annoyance in the matter of medical registration as sometimes occurs in South Africa. A physician or surgeon before he can legally recover his fees in every part of South Africa, requires, as there are five separate States, to be registered in no less than five different places. I was early taught this in a rather rough way; one of the advantages which confederation would bring being vividly placed before me in a very practical manner. In 1873 I attended a man and his family at Du Toit’s Pan, and as I found that no inclination existed to pay my fees, amounting to some eighty guineas; I sued for the amount, but was non-suited by the magistrate, on the exception being raised, that I was not a legal medical practitioner in that part of South Africa, not being registered in Griqualand West or the Cape Colony. As I was registered in England and Natal, I had neglected to comply with this form in Griqualand West, and consequently had to suffer.

The law courts of this territory have also decided another important point in medical law, agreeing in their judgment with English precedent. A medical man whose only qualification was the diploma of the Edinburgh College of Surgeons sued a patient for his attendance, who pleaded that he being a simple surgeon could not charge for a medical case, and the High Court sustained the exception. To the astonishment, however, of nearly all the faculty in South Africa, the medical board in Capetown after this, decided, entirely ultra vires, to grant permission to “Edinbro’” Surgeons, to practice medicine; consequently South Africa now is an Alsatia, to which all semi-qualified men can flee who find it impossible to enter the army or navy, or even obtain any poor-law appointment in England. Feeling myself interested in this matter, and being desirous of obtaining authoritative news from the “head centre” I telegraphed on May 23d, 1884 to the late Dr. Ebden, who held the position as president of the medical board in Capetown, to inquire “if the board intended to doubly qualify simple surgeons,” and received the astounding reply: “Board considers Edinburgh surgeons entitled to practice medicine.” It would be curious to fathom the reason why this preference was given to men holding Scotch diplomas! Quite independently of the fact that this abnormal announcement is contrary to all law, and contrary to the powers vested in the medical board, it is an injustice to the colonists themselves, and unfair to the rising generation of the country. In Europe there are at the present time more than one hundred and fifty medical students, sons of South African colonists, the majority of whom are receiving a university education. Can it be fair to these that they should be pitted against semi-qualified English adventurers?

The necessity of a medical act in South Africa, with proper penal clauses, becomes every day more apparent. The South African Medical Journal in 1884, on giving a resumé of that year’s events of interest, drew public attention to one glaring instance, which had to pass unpunished. In mentioning the case of two medical men, this journal observes: “The latter, a L. R. C. S. of Edinburgh only, had been practicing as a physician, although gazetted as a surgeon only. He had aggravated this by repeatedly signing his name with M. D. and F. R. C. P., a proceeding which was not only mendacious, but dishonest.” But yet this dishonesty had to remain without the infliction of any fine. This case is one among many, which shows the urgency of legislation in this direction.

Since the creation of a municipality in Kimberley in 1878, and the consequent introduction of sanitary regulations, duly enforced by law when necessary, the death-rate has very considerably diminished. The late Dr. Shillito and the writer, in March, 1879, prepared an exhaustive report for the mayor and town council on the sanitary condition of Kimberley. The death-rate at that time was enormous, as can be seen from the following table, which is a copy of that which we then furnished:

At that time Kimberley was perfectly honeycombed with cesspools. We drew attention in our report to the evil effects of the existing system, and to the manner in which these had revealed themselves two years before, when an epidemic of puerperal fever and erysipelas robbed the community of many valuable lives, and we further showed that there was always existing a remitten fever of a dysenteric and typhoid tendency, which could in some measure be attributed to this defective sanitary condition. Our report led to the adoption of the “Pail system,” and the night-soil is now taken away regularly and buried some distance from the town, the consequence of which is that the death-rate from disease has diminished more than one-third, and the sanitary condition of Kimberley is to my own knowledge as good as that of any town in South Africa.

Kimberley, notwithstanding its improved sanitary condition, was in 1883 and 1884 visited by a disastrous outbreak of disease, which cost the community much, both in life and money. In May, 1882, small-pox was brought to South Africa by the steamship Drummond Castle, and spreading, proved very fatal in the Capetown Peninsula (Capetown to Simon’s Town), 4,000, less or more, succumbing to its ravages. Great apprehension was felt in Kimberley lest the disease might be communicated by the passenger wagons coming up from Capetown. Terror seized upon the digging community, and a quarantine station was immediately established at the Modder River, some thirty miles from the mines. Every care was taken, and all passengers were fumigated with sulphur before they were permitted to enter Kimberley. As the result, seven cases of small-pox were detected and detained for treatment, and all those traveling by the same wagons were kept in quarantine twenty-one days.

These efforts, which lasted from Sept. 1882 to March 1883, were entirely successful, and not one single case of small-pox broke out in Kimberley. This threatened invasion put the ratepayers to an expense of nearly £13,000, which, however, was a mere bagatelle compared with the outlay which the epidemic disease that broke out on the fields in 1883, 1884 and 1885 entailed. This came from another and quite unexpected quarter, and was not imported seaward. A certain body of Kafirs, who were coming to Kimberley to seek for work, were attacked at Klerksdorp, in the Transvaal, a small town near Potchefstroom, with symptoms resembling small-pox. The doctors there declared the disease to be aggravated chicken-pox, when the Transvaal government, not being satisfied, Dr. Dyer, who had been promoted to the chief medical office under the Transvaal government, was sent from Pretoria to report direct. In this report, dated Oct. 25th, 1883, he gave it as his opinion (concurred in by Dr. Francis, the special commissioner of the Orange Free State), that the natives were suffering merely from a severe form of chicken-pox, termed by them “Isi-mun-qu-mun-gwane.” These natives were then allowed to proceed on their road to the diamond mines, but of the sixteen who left Klerksdorp four only reached Felstead’s, a store about nine miles from Kimberley, when, the survivors being too weak to proceed, information of the fact was brought by passers-by. An outcry was soon raised, they were visited by medical men, materials to erect shelter for them were immediately sent out, a doctor appointed, and all the precautions commenced to be taken, which afterward led to so much expense. The civil commissioner at once (Nov. 3d, 1883,) appointed a board of six medical men to report on the disease, who after a prolonged inquiry left matters in statu quo, three averring that the outbreak was small-pox, and the others (myself among the number) arriving at a contrary opinion. Government then sent a physician from Capetown to investigate matters, who on Dec. 6th, 1883, declared the disease to be small-pox; so those declaring the outbreak to be a “bullous disease, allied to pemphigus,” and not contagious, as well as those declaring the disease to be a Kafir pox,^[21] or an aggravated form of chicken-pox, were outvoted. It was during one of my visits, accompanied by Dr. L. S. Jameson, to further examine into this outbreak that I met with the nearly fatal accident which I mention elsewhere.

I will not weary my lay readers by entering upon a medical discussion, but may refer my professional brethren to a verbatim report published by the Diamond Fields Advertiser in a book form, of the case of Regina vs. Wolff, where Dr. Wolff, an American physician of more than average skill, was charged with failing to report the existence of “small-pox” in the hospital of which he had then charge, in which the whole matter is carefully discussed. The outbreak of pemphigus or small-pox, which lasted in its virulent form from Nov. 1883, to Dec. 1884, cost the inhabitants of Kimberley and the mines of Griqualand West the large sum of £37,503, 15s. 11d. Medical services were paid for at an extravagant rate, two medical men alone drawing the sum of £3,320, 10s. 6d., and what with the erection of iron hospitals, fumigating houses, dispensaries, ambulance wagons, horses and highly paid officials the outbreak was an expensive luxury to Griqualand West as long as it continued. The Dutch, also taking alarm, stationed patrols on all the roads leading from Kimberley to the Free State, excepting four, on which they erected fumigating stations just outside our boundary. At these stations they fumigated all Kafirs and others passing along, charging those not resident in the State, whether white or black. Some idea of the extent of this charge on the population may be formed from the fact that at the Reit Pass station alone 11,570 were fumigated in three months. Of the folly and uselessness I will remain silent. When the outbreak first appeared, the “Act to amend the law relating to Public Health,” No. 4, 1883, giving power to levy rates, and also for framing regulations for vaccination and quarantining was the only ordinance which applied, but in 1884 a special act was passed (Nov. 10th, 1884), giving the Board of Health power to levy rates on boroughs and mines, and to defray expenses. This was followed in 1885 by ordinance No. 41, by which the government was empowered to pay one-half of all moneys expended on account of small-pox; though previous to this the government had acted with great liberality, having defrayed one-third of every expense. The total number of cases reported from Nov. 1st, 1883, to Jan. 1st, 1885, the months during which the epidemic was at its height, was 2,311, and the number of deaths 700, or say 32.02 per cent. The proportion of white cases as against colored was very marked, the number of white being 400, with 51 deaths, or 12.07 per cent., and of colored 1,911, with 649 deaths, or 35.42 per cent. A second attempt to revive the scare was made toward the end of 1885, but this did not succeed, although twenty-five colored and one white man were sent to the lazaretto, alleged to be suffering from small-pox. A special commission to examine-these patients was sent out, on my describing a visit I had made to this lazaretto, and on my drawing public attention to the absurdity of the whole affair. This commission, although chosen from medical men believing in the small-pox theory, actually certified that half of the patients they saw in the lazaretto were not suffering from small-pox at all. My readers from this will be able to form an estimate of the cruel acts perpetrated at the time by ignorant officials, and to judge how, taking the small-pox view of the case, a loathsome disease would be propagated amongst healthy persons—how the innocent and guilty would suffer alike. After this exposure small-pox rapidly died out. The lazaretto is now removed to the west side of the mine, and the buildings surrounded by grounds, twenty-two acres in extent, are stationed on a high plateau on the road to Schmidt’s Drift. At present Kimberley is perfectly free from any cases of this disease.

In the beginning of this chapter I made mention of the first lunatic I ever saw in Griqualand West, who, as he belonged to the police, was removed, I believe, to Capetown, but ever since then, both before annexation and since, lunatics as a rule, up to a very short time back, have been left to drag out their weary existences, the victims of heart-curdling neglect, in the common jail. In August, 1885, I took occasion, when speaking on the subject of lunacy, to lay bare before the Kimberley public some of the scenes day by day enacted in their prison (their lunatic asylum?). In the course of a lecture I then delivered, I spoke thus on the subject:

“Here in the middle of the nineteenth century, in an era of boasted civilization, the only care we can give our lunatics, except in Capetown and Grahams town, is to herd them with criminals, and to chain and handcuff them with brutal severity, pending an official order for removal, which may never come. It is a painful thought, that among the poorer patients, who from the ills of life suffer mental alienation; fathers depressed from loss or anxiety, mothers from exhaustion resulting from the rearing of a large family, the young man from vice, dissipation or disappointed hopes, and the foreigner among strangers, looking wistfully back to his native home—that these, all suffering from diseases which might possibly have been stayed, should be thrust into jails without attendants, simply put in irons if violent, and almost compelled through sheer inhumanity and neglect to suffer the misery of incurable lunacy!

“As I have just said, in all colonial towns except two, as far as I can learn, the jail is the receptacle of the lunatic. Kimberley, with its vast wealth, with its go-ahead citizens, is no exception. What tales the walls of its jail could tell! One poor black, to my certain knowledge, has been locked within its gates for twelve long years, and there you can see him—to-morrow if you like—bemoaning his fate, and cursing the government in the same breath! A poor white girl, the daughter of a man whom old residents must remember well in the palmy days of the Diamond News, has day after day, and every day since 1876, paced like a caged tigress up and down a small court-yard, panting for freedom, and growling in despair! One poor girl, black her skin may be, is handcuffed, so I learnt, for days together, to prevent her from stripping herself of all she wears. Two women I saw there myself, not three days ago, clad simply in nature’s garb, as naked as when born. A patient of my own was taken to this comfortless place some few months ago. His case wanted thoughtful care and instant attention. Red tape, however, consumed weeks of valuable time, the chance of cure was risked, and he, poor fellow, instead of being cared for by skilled attendants, was thrust handcuffed into a cell, ironically called padded, the floor left bare, on which he might have battered out his brains, had he chosen, in the frenzy of his despair! On another occasion, in that very same cell, a lunatic was confined one night not very long before. Upon the jailer paying his visit in the morning he looked anxiously round for the man that had been committed to his care the previous evening. To his astonishment, where do you think he found him? I will tell you. During the long, dreary watches of the night, the poor fellow, to escape from some imaginary foe, had scooped out with his nails a hole large and deep enough in which to hide, and there he found him, crouching like a wild beast in his lair. I saw this hole myself on a visit I afterward paid him. I will here ask you one question, who ought to inquire into these matters? Who is answerable for this shameful neglect?”

This account created quite a sensation, and was at once taken notice of by the government, who removed all but one lunatic, about whom there was some local quibble, to the asylum at Grahamstown. Some idea may be formed of the responsibility falling upon the shoulders of the Governor of the Kimberley jail when I inform my readers that during the last fourteen years 67,000 convicted prisoners have passed through his hands.

This chapter would be incomplete without a few words respecting the climate of Griqualand West. Taken as a whole it is very salubrious, and especially adapted to those suffering from lung disease, as the country being almost entirely devoid of timber or vegetation permits free currents of air to prevail, a condition which is very favorable to consumptive patients. Although the changes of temperature are very sudden and great, yet with proper care little harm is done, as the excessive dryness of the soil and atmosphere enables the residents to withstand with but little inconvenience a heat which would be quite unbearable in a moist climate. The rain, too, when it comes, generally falls in sharp and heavy showers.

The drinking water is upon the whole good, though that of the deep wells is rather hard, and in the shallow ones brackish, but the water now brought in from the Vaal River through the enterprise of Chevalier Lynch by means of pipes is soft and very wholesome.

The elevation of Griqualand West of about 4,000 feet above the sea appears to give it the air of a mountainous region, the ozone being constant, and ranging from 3.5 to 9.5 degrees on a scale of ten, the average being about five degrees.

In Kimberley the north wind is the prevailing one. From a report of 4,452 observations taken by Mr. G. J. Lee, F. R. Met. S., in 1885, in 681 cases it was due north; next in order came northeast and south winds, of about equal frequency, and next, with comparatively little difference, were winds from the northwest and southwest. As can be imagined Griqualand West is very dry.

It will be seen from the table below that there has been one year only during the last nine in which the rainfall came up to or exceeded twenty-five inches, which is about the English average: 1877, 13.58 inches; 1878, 9.34; 1879, 19.38; 1880, 15.43; 1881, 30.30; 1882, 14.77; 1883, 13.63; 1884, 20.46, and 73 days on which rain fell; 1885, 9.77, and 74 days on which rain fell.

In some months no rain falls at all. The following is a tabulated list of the months, during the last eight years, in which this has occurred: June, 1877; June, 1878; October, 1879; July, 1880; August, 1880; September, 1880; July, 1881; September, 1881; June, 1883; December, 1883; July, 1884; August, 1884; July, 1885.

During the year 1885 there were ninety-two days on which lightning was seen, seventy-four on which dew fell, two hundred and eighty-eight days on which there were clouds, and seven days on which ice was seen, although in the outskirts of Kimberley ice was much more frequent. I have given monthly returns in the accompanying table:

The barometric pressure for the year 1883 appears to have been at its maximum in June, in which month the reading was 26.177 inches, and the minimum, which was 25.849 inches, occurred in January, while the mean for the year was 25.988 inches. All these readings are corrected to 32° F.

The heat experienced in Griqualand West is sometimes very excessive, when I state that the maximum summer heat of the day in the shade during the months of November and December was in the year 1883, 107°, in 1884, 102°, and last year 104°, whilst during the month of December, 1885, the ordinary bright bulb thermometer in the sun attained the height of 116.25°, and the blackened bulb in vacuo 174.6°, my readers may form some idea of the great range of temperature to which residents are exposed, especially if they contrast this with the minimum during the winter months, July and August, of 26° in 1884, and of 28.25° in 1885. At the same time it is interesting to note that the highest mean of absolute maximum temperature was 78.98° in December and the absolute minimum 52.52° in June. I have often conversed on this subject with one of the early Vaal River diggers, who told me that in September, 1870, he several times found the thermometer in his tent in the early morning standing at 32°, and at mid-day registering 112°, and on one occasion in 1870 it was as low as 17°.

In the winter there is a great difference between the temperature upon the grass and that upon the bare soil. Wagoners are fully aware of this, for when on a cold, frosty night their oxen go astray, they look for them upon roads, or bare patches of ground, as they know where the instinct of the animals will lead them, the oxen appearing intuitively to know that the grass favors radiation and causes intense cold. I have often indeed known the temperature on the grass to be as low as 16°, or even 13°, when the temperature on the bare ground around was above freezing point. Any one living near the diamond mines can relate the scores of cases in which natives during the last ten years have lain down upon the veldt (grass) to sleep away their drunken carousals, and have been found stiff and dead in the morning.

Although “Afric’s sunny fountains” (comparatively few in number, however, on our high plateau) have, in good old Bishop Heber’s beautiful hymn, “rolled down their golden sand,” yet visitors who come out under the belief that pajamas, mosquito nets, and the lightest silken gossamers, etc., are sufficient to keep out the cold, would be astonished to find, as they might do, from time to time, pea-jacketed and ulstered individuals of varying ages heartily enjoying games of snowball under the supposed burning sun.

The dust storms, to which we are liable all the year round, are our greatest trial, sweeping over the country like a very sirocco, burning, blinding and choking up everything in their fury. Occasionally, to change the scene, we have storms of hail, with stones sometimes of extraordinary size, two and two and a half inches in diameter, whilst whirlpools ofttimes sweep and circle round, to relieve the monotony of the landscape.

Yet, notwithstanding these drawbacks, and the great variations in the climate, and putting aside preventible diseases, arising from defective sanitation, and reckless exposure, the climate is on the whole very fairly healthy for Europeans.

In the early days of the Fields the gambling spirit so infatuated many of the diggers, that, not satisfied with the excitement of the day’s luck, or ill-luck in the mine, they would prolong the accidents of fortune far into the night. In my next chapter I will give an account of that period.