Chapter Seven.
Bechuanaland. The territory of the chief Montsioa, of the Baralongs.
This country is situated on the north of Monkuruan. The boundaries are common to both, from the Transvaal, down west to that range of mountains running north, the continuation of the Langberg; beyond is the Kalahara desert, of which this western portion forms part. Its northern boundary joins the chief Gaseitsive, and the Transvaal is on the east. The length from east to west is 200 miles, and from north to south seventy miles. The Malapo, or the Mafeking river, rises in the Transvaal, flows west, through the entire length of this territory, continuing on in the same direction, receiving the two dry rivers, the Nosop and Onp, then turns south at the great bend, under the name of Hygap, and enters the Orange at Kakaman’s Drift; there are but few branches in its course. The eastern portion of this country is valuable and productive, suitable for any kind of vegetation.
When the British Government settled the Keats award boundary, they confirmed Montsioa’s title to the ground on the west of it. At that time, 1871, Montsioa and many of his people were living at Moshanen, a Kaffir station in Gaseitsive’s territory, situated eighteen miles to the west of Kanya, the seat of that chief. But after the settlement of the award he removed down to his own country, and settled at his town, Sehuba, which has since been burnt by the Boers, and was six miles south of the Molapo river, and the same distance from the large kraal on its banks, under the petty chief Melema, on Molapo, who was his nephew; and eighteen miles below, and on the river, was the large kraal under Maceby.
The population numbered some 35,000 souls, including the Kuruman district; but since the Transvaal Boers have made war on these people, after the retrocession of that state, nearly half have been killed and made prisoners.
The country has fine grazing-lands, and some parts are well-wooded. There are extensive vleis and pans; the people cultivate corn extensively, use ploughs, and had large herds of cattle, sheep, and goats, now stolen by the Boers.
Montsioa belongs to the Baralong tribe of the Bechuana family; he and his people have always been loyal to the English Government, and during the Transvaal rebellion many loyal Boers fled to him for protection, and were hospitably received. The people are in their habits and customs similar to those in Monkuruan’s country. Montsioa is a quiet, well-disposed chief, and has been cruelly used by the Boers for his loyalty to England; one of his sons, and most of his brave men, have been shot down like dogs, and his women and their children killed in cold blood, and many of them taken into captivity, all for keeping true and loyal. He has been shamefully and disgracefully forsaken, and left to battle alone against these murdering freebooters, who were supported by the Transvaal Government, and supplied with guns and ammunition to carry on their unholy war, and now he has lost the greater portion of his people, and nearly all his cattle and property. The British Government, moved by the voice of the English people and our loyals at the Cape, at the eleventh hour sent out a force under Major-General Sir Charles Warren, to see justice done him. Will they compel the Boers to return the stolen property, and the women and children they have taken into the Transvaal as slaves, for they will be nothing less? Will they deliver up the murderers of Mr Bethel and others? Never was a more cruel and unjust war made against people than this, by a people professing Christianity, who have, by their cold-blooded and atrocious acts, stamped themselves as a nation of murderers and robbers, and for such acts they are not worthy of retaining the Transvaal as an independent country. It is useless for that Government to deny any complicity in these wars, they are well known to have been the promoters—there is evidence sufficient to prove this. I was told by some of the influential Boers in Pretoria, soon after peace was restored, and the first convention made, in July 1881, that they intended to go and punish Montsioa and Monkuruan, by driving them out of their territories and taking their land, for their loyalty to England in protecting loyal Boers. As they stated, “We will not have these natives on our border who have helped you English,” showing what their intention was as soon as they were confirmed in their republic. I have deemed it necessary to state these facts, that the English people may know in any future dealings with whom they have to meet.
In the settlement of the Keats award the land was confirmed to Montsioa. There is an extensive hill of metamorphic formation on his eastern boundary, but which may now be included in the Transvaal by the recent Convention, which has in its centre, on the summit, the remains of an extinct volcano; the vent is about 700 yards in diameter, the highest point is 5650 feet above sea-level, and stands on the central watershed. There is an opening for the escape of the lava, which appears to have travelled some miles down a valley on the south-east. This lava, or boiling mud, has several vents on the exterior, the central opening is level, and on one side many bones are embedded in the rock. It is an interesting formation.
The western division of Montsioa’s territory is more open on the south side of the Molapo river, but more wooded on the northern. It was one of my favourite hunting-grounds in my early visits, as game at that time swarmed over those extensive plains, and with a horse they were easily shot; but it was dangerous riding, as there are so many wolf-holes, ant-bear, porcupine, armadillo, spring-hare, and meercat, partly hidden by long grass, that a horse at full speed cannot always escape them, which frequently ends in a broken collarbone or a broken rifle. Many of the antelope species are very subject to bransick, and hundreds die; their bones may be seen lying about in every direction, consequently it is a great resort for vultures and eagles, who are constantly on the look-out for those who have not many days to live. If a wildebeest or blesbok has this complaint, and is not likely to live many days, he is found standing alone, and surrounded by half a hundred of these birds waiting patiently till he drops, then they commence upon him before he is quite dead, his eyes being first taken, and in less than half an hour there is very little left to be eaten. Many believe the vultures or eagles discover their food only by their splendid sight; my experience proves that scent has more to do with it. During my travels in these wilds I have had almost daily opportunity of observing their mode of discovering any dead animal that may be exposed in the open. These birds are almost constantly on the wing; the exception is when they have gorged until they can eat no more. Then they rest on the ground or some stone koppie, until they have to some extent digested their food, to enable them to fly. Many times I have ridden up to them and given them a cut with my riding-whip to make them fly, which they are incapable of doing from over-feeding. When an animal dies, the scent is driven by the wind and ascends many thousand feet, and is carried along with it. If any of these birds are to be seen on the wing, they almost always fly in circles, making long sweeps in their course; this will take up any scent that may be in the air. In watching them closely it is easy to see when they have got the scent, and when they lose it, as is often the case if they make too great a circle. There may be sometimes from 100 to 200 performing these graceful circular flights, some one way and some another. Being at a great altitude—1000 yards—when they smell the carrion, they are, if the wind is strong, more than a mile away from the animal, and as they fly round they gradually work up to windward, until the object is visible; then they do not come down at once, but appear to make a survey of the surroundings before coming down to feast on the carcass. I have may times seen them come down wind, pass directly over a dead beast unnoticed, until they have got into the current of air on the down side, when they have worked back until they could see the animal on the ground. Their splendid sight will lead them to the spot after a time, but their quick sense of smell is the first indication that there is a grand feast for them.
Of all birds I think the vulture is the most graceful in its flight, with its immense wings, which measure from tip to tip seven and sometimes nine feet, extended without a movement as they circle in the air. One day I was out on foot after some blue wildebeest, with my rifle, near the dry pan Bakillara; I came upon about 100 of these birds, who were too late for a feast upon a buck, the bones of which had already been picked quite clean, when they took flight and disappeared. Knowing their habits so well, and that more would shortly come, I walked about 100 yards away to a wildebeest hole, which that animal scrapes to sleep in. There I laid down as if dead, putting my rifle out of sight; I wanted to see what they would do if they saw me. In about ten minutes several flew overhead to the dead animal, eyeing me as they passed, with their heads on one side, and about fifty yards over me; many of them commenced their circular flight to have another look to see if I were dead. Nearly half an hour was passed in this way without the slightest movement on my part, when dozens of them began to settle on the ground forty yards away, but afraid to come nearer; others would make a swoop down within a dozen yards of me and pass on; when upwards of fifty had settled down, finding they would not come to pick my bones, and getting tired of my position, I jumped up with a great shout, when they took wing and in less than two minutes were out of sight.
The black eagle is more frequently seen here than in any other part of Africa, in consequence, I suppose, of food being plentiful. I shot one out of four that settled near my waggon one afternoon, when my driver was skinning a wolf he had shot. When sitting on the ground it measured two feet four inches to the shoulder, and its wings from tip to tip nine feet five inches. Two years ago I shot a white eagle; the wings measured nearly ten feet. I tried to preserve them, but did not succeed.
All kinds of hawks, some very large, and the large horned owl are common in this part of the desert, as also some of the smaller species. Snakes also are plentiful: the most common is the puffadder, which grows to a large size; two I killed measured three feet each. The cobra-de-capello and also the python are common. One I shot measured sixteen feet two inches, but there are some larger. This one had an entire steinbok in it; they are more numerous near Vleis. Lizards, salamanders, and many small snakes are seen amongst the stones and rocks. Scorpions of a dark colour have been killed eleven inches in length.
This part of the country the greater part of the year is short of water, but in the Molapo it can be obtained by digging a few feet in the bed of the river, which is sand. If proper attention is paid to improvements, this part may be made valuable and productive.
Many Bushman families live on the north side of the river, of the Bakillihara tribe, quite distinct from the Masare Bushman. They have small cattle-posts belonging to the Bechuanas, but others are free, seldom stationary.
The old mission station at Mosega, situate on a branch of the Klein Marico, was abandoned in 1852, as also Malatza, by the Revs. Ingles and Edwards, the Boers not allowing them to remain. All that portion of Montsioa’s territory is quite equal to any part of the Cape Colony for richness of soil and growth of corn and vegetables, splendid grazing-land for cattle, and well supplied with water from fountains, with good roads. Several lions were killed on the Molapo twelve years ago; two young ones were captured and brought up by M. Ludic, a Bastard, and afterwards sold for five pounds, and sent to England.
There were many Bastards at the time I first passed through, which I frequently had occasion to do on my journeys, and found them very civil and kind. Indeed, it would be difficult to find a class of people more attentive and well-disposed towards travellers than this class, so that it was quite a pleasure to meet them. They are good mechanics, and can repair a waggon as well as any colonial waggon-maker, as I have found when anything was required to be done to mine.
On the south of this territory, between it and the Transvaal, is that small slip of country under the petty captain Moshette, part of which is included in the Transvaal by the late Convention between the British Government and that Republic. This petty captain and the Koranna captain Moshoen have been the tools of the Transvaal Government to make war on Monkuruan and Montsioa, and it serves them right that they should lose their country. Moshoen lives at his large station at Maamuosa, situated on a white sandstone hill close to the Harts river; this stone is used by mill-owners for grinding their corn. The most unfrequented part of Montsioa’s country is that through which the river Molapo runs, to the westward of Maceby’s station, the course of which has already been described in the river system.
Eighteen years ago the plains swarmed with game, and lions also. I was travelling down from Kanya through the desert to Maceby, on my way to Conge kraal, north of Morequern. At Maceby’s there were Boers, each with a waggon, going to Morequern; the road I was travelling was the same. One of them, whom I had met before, asked if we should trek together, which was agreed to, until the roads separated seventy-five miles on, the distance to Conge being 125 miles; the only objection I had, was that they travelled at night, but as there were some very nasty places along the road and we could assist each other in case of accident, I agreed. On the third night from Maceby’s, we were travelling along over an open country, my waggon was the third in the line, and a Dutchman was the last; the night was stormy with a high wind, and very dark. Soon after inspanning in the evening, we knew lions were following us, but this occurs so often that we took no notice of it. But about eleven o’clock the oxen in all the waggons became very restless, and our foreloopers had difficulty to keep them on the road, calling out that lions were close.
The Boer behind my waggon had no forelooper, there was only himself with the waggon, which was empty. I was sitting on my waggon-box with my driver, and the forelooper leading the oxen. Soon after eleven we heard the after-waggon and oxen leave the road and make a rush across the veldt, towards a dry bed of a river, and heard the Boer call out to us to stop, which we did as soon as I could make those in front understand the case. We held to, and listened, but heard no sound of the Boer or anything else. The wind and rain coming on, we three, with our waggons, drew up in a line, and fastened the oxen to the trektow and waited until daylight, for it was useless and also very dangerous to go walking about in the veldt amongst low bushes, to look for the Boer or his waggon, where lions seemed to swarm; besides, we had as much as we could do to keep the lions from making an attack on our own oxen.
As soon as the first sings of daylight approached, the two Boers, a son, and myself, took our rifles and followed the spoor of the last waggon, which we found upset in the dry river, about 400 yards from the road, killing six of the oxen in the fall, and the other six had cleared themselves from their yokes, and strayed away out of sight, but no man was to be seen. Going back on the line the waggon took, we found the man’s hat and some distance beyond his long ox-whip, and a little blood, not far from it. There was then no doubt about his disappearance; the oxen had bolted, and the man to turn them on to the road had jumped off the waggon, when a lion had seized and carried him off. As the sun was now above the horizon, we gave orders for our boys to outspan, and then hastened on in the direction the lion’s spoor showed us he had gone. There was here and there blood on the grass, which led to a small clump of bushes and stones; here we found part of the remains and clothes, which were all torn to shreds, of the poor man, but no signs of the lions, for there must have been several by the footprints in the sand. We sent to the waggon for a spade and buried the remains of what small portion was left, and then took up the spoor,—to settle accounts with the lions,—which followed along a dry watercourse, which was crossed, and under a sand-bank with high grass we came upon them, a lion and lioness, and a young one, comfortably reposing. The two Boers and myself—all good shots—made very short work of the affair, knowing what they had done. It was arranged not to fire until we could make a dead shot, and all to fire at the lion; two in the first instance, the third to be ready if he showed fight, whilst the other two reloaded; but as the Dutchmen’s rifles carried heavy bullets,—eight to the pound,—their two shots did the work, for when the lion rose up to have a look at us, throwing back his ears and showing his teeth, both bullets entered his chest and he fell, but not quite dead; my third bullet in the region of his heart finished him. We then turned upon the lioness, who gave us much trouble before we could have an opportunity of a good shot; her endeavour was to escape, but this we could not quite agree to; however, a shot in the shoulder, and another in the neck, stopped her making any further attempt to get away, and enabled us to get up and complete the work. The Boers wanted the skins, which would delay us the day, therefore I went back to my waggon for breakfast, thinking it was no bad bag for so early in the morning. But before doing so we searched every bush and cover for the young lion without success; but in the afternoon, when the two Kaffir boys were skinning the lioness, the young one was seen not far off, and the Kaffir shot him. We then went down to the river to see what could be done with the waggon, the dead oxen, and those that had strayed away into the bush. After a time they were found and brought back; the waggon was too much smashed to remove. It had fallen over a steep bank fifteen feet deep. The Boers wanted to save the skins and the flesh of the dead oxen, which would take time, and as I could do no more good I arranged to start the next morning. We all took care to collect plenty of wood for great fires to be kept alight, and it was well we did, for we were serenaded with the lions’ music all the night; the surroundings seemed full of them, and also with wolves and jackals; the smell of the dead oxen brought them to our locality. However, bidding my friends good-bye, after breakfast I left for Conge. The second day after leaving them, we saw several lions as we passed along, but they were a long way from the waggon. In the afternoon, the next day, about 200 yards on our right from the road, we counted no less than seventeen large and small lions, some of them playing, others lying and sitting down; they took no notice of us, merely looked as we passed along, and we at them. We made a long trek after that, to get as far as we could from them before night, for however pretty they are to look at in their wild and native home, their proximity to the waggon on a dark night is not conducive to a good night’s rest. In four days after this we arrived at Conge, without seeing any more. I remained at this station two days, then left for Morequern. The chief and many of his people came to the waggon, with pumpkins, watermelons, milk, and eggs. I never met with a more quiet and orderly and well-behaved people than these Bechuanas. Very few traders visited these parts then. There was one after this who frequented this part of the country, and who blew himself up in his waggon, together with the missionary from Matetong and some twenty Kaffirs.
This was the last missionary that lived at that station, the house and grounds are in ruins, but there are some very fine willow trees still standing planted by Messrs Moffat and Campbell when the mission was first established.
Conge is eighteen miles from Morequern; the road the whole way is fearfully stony; a pan half-way is noted for guinea-fowl. The next day I arrived at Morequern, where I had to repair my waggon. A large pan divides two large kraals; on the east side an old blind chief lives, Makalawar or Makutse, a Baralong, and on the west, Maksetse.
As it would take some few days before the waggon would be ready, and as all the people at these large stations had always been kind to me whenever I came amongst them, I determined to send out an invitation to all the young Kaffir girls and young Kaffirs to a big dance. They were to come in their full dress costume. The reed band was engaged. The performance was to wind up with a large ox roasted whole, to be washed down with Kaffir beer. Three o’clock was the appointed time, at a large open space by my waggon. Long before that I had half the people round me, including little children. The young girls came decked out with a profusion of beads worked upon well-brayed leather, forming aprons, bracelets, necklaces, in every variety of form and design, very beautifully executed; bands of beads round their woolly heads and long pendants of beads for earrings setting them off to great advantage, each coming to me to show their finery, and seeming delighted to be praised for their good looks and fine ornaments, for invariably when young they have beautiful figures and expressive features. The young men also came dressed in their best clothes. The old people, with their chief and his counsellors, came to look on. In all about 500 assembled to do honour to the feast, and great rejoicings and fun characterised the meeting. Two reed bands came, thirty in each. Dancing and music commenced at four p.m. and continued up to feeding-time, when the ox was sufficiently roasted. Men were told off to cut up and divide it amongst the people. Nearly 100 little fires were made for parties to form round them, for Kaffirs can do nothing without a fire. Kaffir corn was cooked in pots in addition to the meat for their feast, and at nine p.m. dancing, music, and talking recommenced with undiminished joyousness, whilst, to complete the evening, I had a scramble from my waggon of a variety of articles of use to them—handkerchiefs, tinder-boxes, knives, beads, and other things, which caused an immense amusement. At twelve o’clock I told them to go home, for I must sleep; and in less than ten minutes all was quiet. Everything passed off pleasantly. This reed band is a great institution with these people. The following night the young men met as usual with the band at their large kraal. The night was not dark, as the stars give great light in this latitude. When they were in full play, and the women and children going round the performers, singing and clapping of hands, each one wearing a long kaross, which covered their figure, and a fur cap, their usual covering at night, I left my waggon, dressed like them, with a jackal kaross and tiger-skin cap, which concealed my figure and face, walked down and joined in the dance, which was maintained for some time, all the men sitting or standing beyond the circle looking on. A little girl caught a glimpse of my white face, which had become partly uncovered, when she screamed out and pointed to me. It was then no longer necessary to keep up the disguise; I therefore threw off my kaross. When they saw who it was, they joined in the fun, laughing and clapping of hands, and I was made to sit down and have a good drink of Kaffir beer. The next night or evening, before sundown, there was a dance of the married women, about seventy, dressed up in all kinds of strange figures. This was to celebrate the return of about thirty young girls to their homes, and about the same number of young men, who had passed through certain ceremonies after the Jewish custom, before the boys are admitted into the ranks with the men, and entitled to carry arms in war; and the girls before they are allowed to marry.
This custom is at a particular season. One or two old medicine-men will take those boys who are to be admitted to manhood into some secluded glen, where they remain for two or three months isolated from the rest of the people, no one being allowed to go near them during that time, the old men looking after their food; and at the appointed time they are allowed to return to the kraal. The young men are painted over with white clay for a certain number of days after the ceremony. Two or more old women take the girls also to some remote place, and when they return they also are covered with white clay, and, in addition, wear a short kilt made of reeds or grass, and a band of the same material crossing over the shoulders, meeting in front and behind, which are worn during a certain time at their kraals, when they assume their ordinary dress, and then are eligible to be chosen for wives. I was hunting one day near Cooe, and happened to ride down the river close upon a number of these girls and two old women, which caused a great commotion amongst them. I was told if they had caught me they were likely to kill me for trespassing into their sanctuary. All the Bechuana tribe have this ceremony. This region being far removed from any white people, the natives are much better behaved, and it was a pleasure to be amongst them. As a people they are quite alive to the ridiculous, and can understand a joke as well as any one. It was great fun to go out with the children and enter into games with them, which they so thoroughly enjoyed that when I arrived at their kraal again after many months, which I had frequently to do to pass through to other parts, my arrival was hailed with delight by the youngsters.
During my stay here I had a narrow escape from a lion. I was out with my rifle after some ostriches in the Kalahara, ten miles from Conge. Here and there were low bushes. I had run down one bird and fastened the feathers on the saddle before me. On my way home, on my right, about 300 yards, was what appeared to be a dead animal or an ostrich, I could not tell which, therefore I rode up and found it was a blue wildebeest or gnu, nearly half eaten. Turning my horse to the left to resume my journey, walking the horse past a bush close on my right, about fifty yards from the carcass, I came right upon a full-grown lion and lioness lying down. My horse caught sight of them first, made a spring which nearly threw me from the saddle, so sudden and unexpected was his movement. When he did this I saw the lion about to spring; but our movement was too sudden, and he lost his opportunity; in another moment the lion would have been upon us. When a couple of hundred yards was between us, I turned the horse round to have a good look at the splendid animal, as I knew he would not follow. Both were standing looking at me. It was now getting late in the day, therefore I lost no more time in looking after birds or lions. We were not ten feet from the lion when the horse made his spring, about as lucky an escape from the jaws of a lion as one could desire.
Treking through the country where there were no roads to Kuis, on the Molapo, in Montsioa country, I came upon a small Bushman kraal, six huts in all, evidently a permanent station. A few goats were feeding near them, and in the bushes were four bush girls collecting most beautiful caterpillars of red, yellow, blue, and green, about three inches in length. They told my Hottentot they cook them in milk, and they are very nice. As the people seemed very friendly, I remained the night with my waggon, and was much amused at the dancing and singing in the evening. Happy people! why should they be disturbed in their innocent life? There were old and young, in all eighteen; a quiet and inoffensive family. Far away from other kraals these people lived to themselves; not another family that I could see within fifty miles.
Walking round in the morning to collect some of these caterpillars to put into spirits, I observed many of the thorn trees covered with dead insects, small lizards, frogs, beetles, grasshoppers, locusts, and many other kinds, all beautifully spiked on the long mimosa thorns; nearly every bough had one or more on. I knew at once that it was the larder of the little cruel butcher-bird. The bush seemed to swarm with them, and I have watched them frequently take and spike insects. One caught a frog and carried it to a tree close to where I was concealed, to see how he managed to pierce them so securely. The frog made a kind of scream when he was being taken up, and almost a scream when the large thorn was put through him. But he was not long suspended; when the bird was gone he wriggled himself clear, and fell to the ground, and I put him out of his pain. This butcher-bird is about the size, rather larger than a sparrow, black and white. One killed two canary-birds; both were put on the thorns. They seem never at rest, always looking for game of some kind. They are known in every part of South Central Africa. The Wagt-een-beitje tree is their favourite for impaling their victims.
The mocking-bird is also common; two kinds, one black and white, the other brown. The latter is the most talkative. Both night and day I have watched them on the topmost branches of the lofty trees, and their persistent and energetic mode of keeping up their everlasting talk has kept me awake many nights, as in several parts, where the wood is thick, they seem to occupy every tree and bush.
Snakes are also plentiful down along the Molapo; being out one afternoon with my gun after wild ducks, walking along the banks, all of a sudden a large black mamba snake stood in my path, about ten feet distant; he had raised himself more than two feet from the ground and was coming at me; I had just time to fire into his head before he made his spring. He measured eleven feet seven inches. The poison-fangs are as long as a parrot’s claws. I put him into one of these chimneypot ant-hills to feed the ants; several more I saw the same day, and many puffadders: the largest measured three feet five inches.
All this part of the chief Montsioa’s territory, down past Kuis, and along the Mafeking river, which is his western division, is one of the driest portions of the Kalahara desert; in the winter months the only water to be obtained is in the sand of the river by digging; but in summer there is plenty. A road from Kuruman runs through the desert, down part of the way by the Kuruman river, crossing the Nosop and Oup to Meer, where the Bastards have formed a town: the distance is 240 miles. Before leaving this region I wish to explain the meteorological peculiarities of South Central Africa. When any great change in the atmosphere is about to take place, it has often been remarked by travellers, that in Africa there is lightning and thunder without clouds. I have often remarked this phenomenon, and wondered what could be the cause. Isolated from all society, thrown upon our own resources for occupation and amusement, in these solitary journeys through this vast unknown region, we are more prone to investigate the mysteries of nature than we should if thrown more amongst the busy world. So it was in my case, and knowing there must be some natural law unknown to me, I took my observations accordingly to find it out.
During the long dry season many years ago, when travelling in the central portion of this desert, where this strange lightning and thunder occurred almost every night at certain seasons of the year, when no clouds are visible, all I could discover was, that the flashes seemed to come from one quarter. I was outspanned one day near one of those singular isolated granite hills, so often to be seen in the Kalahara desert, that look more like a ruined temple than the works of nature. I started in the afternoon to climb to its summit, to take observations with my instruments, and found the elevation from base to top to be 278 feet. It would be difficult to find words to convey the exquisite pleasure I felt in standing alone on this lofty eminence, where no white man before ever placed his foot: alone, far from the busy world, its anxieties and troubles; to look at the fair scene beneath and around me, the rich vegetation on the plains (for it was in the month of November, when all is bright and fair), the distant mountains, their quaint outlines softened by space to lovely purple tints, as they fade away into the rosy sky on the horizon! Taking up a position under a huge block of granite, to be out of the sun’s influence, for the thermometer registered 106 degrees in the shade, to take observations, my attention was attracted to some heavy-looking clouds just perceptible above the topmost ridge of some lofty hills in the north-west some twenty miles distant. The sun was shining on them, giving them a pink massive outline. I remained in this position till nearly sundown, when I returned to the waggons; no clouds were visible above the hills when I reached my camp, nothing but the bright glow of the sky, which later on had changed to a purplish-blue, and as night approached came the usual lightning-flashes; my impression was we were going to have a storm, but there were no signs of clouds all night, and a clear sky the next day. On the following day we treked fifteen miles more to the north, and in the afternoon observed, just above the horizon, a line of clouds, similar to those I had seen the day before in the same position, and as evening advanced they appeared to have dispersed, as they became blended with the evening tints, and a casual observer would declare, with every appearance of truth, that there were no clouds to be seen in the sky, although he would see the lightning-flash only, as in no case when these apparently cloudless flashes come, is spark or electric fluid visible. I have been exploring constantly the whole of South Central Africa for twenty-five years, out in the open air nightly; not an evening escaped my observations, therefore I write with some degree of confidence when I state no electric spark is ever seen with this lightning, in consequence of the distance, and partly below the horizon, and occasionally, but very seldom, in the stillness and quiet that pervades everything, the air perfectly calm, the distant nimble of thunder may be heard, and the clouds before morning have vanished. I followed these observations for months, and whenever any clouds were seen just above the horizon before the sun went down, they appeared to vanish as the evening tints deepened. The same result followed year after year.
I once took up my quarters at a small spring flowing from some granite rocks, where I remained six weeks, near the range of hills already described, to hunt and explore; this was the following year, and strange to say, every afternoon heavy masses of clouds just showed their heads above the horizon, covering more than a quarter of a circle, that is, from the west of north to east-north-east, taking up the same position daily; their lovely pink tints faded as evening advanced, no clouds could be seen, and yet nightly we had these flashes. Some may say, surely these clouds must have passed over some portion of the desert, not a great distance from my outspan, and rain have fallen from these storm-clouds; the reply is, for months prior to the rainy season commencing, clouds are formed after mid-day, and follow certain strata in the air, drawn by the electric condition of that portion of the earth’s surface, and discharge the electricity they may contain without rain. I give this because I have on several occasions been stationary for some weeks in the line of country these clouds have taken, year after year, and at the same season. After the sun has passed the meridian, clouds have been collecting, generally from the north-east, and as evening advances, the vivid lightning and the heavy peals of thunder commence, and last for several hours, and then appear to evaporate, and a lovely starlight night succeeds; not a drop of rain has fallen during the storm, and a clear blue sky is seen over the whole of the horizon. In this part of the desert we are seldom below 3600 feet of sea-level, and, taking into consideration the clear and rarefied atmosphere, a flash of lightning and the thunder may be seen and heard at a greater distance than where the atmosphere is more dense. I may further observe, that owing to the rotundity of the earth, and the allowance to be made in every mile, it does not require that the clouds should be very far away to be partly below the horizon. When we place our eye on a level with the ground and look along a flat country, at ten miles’ distance a man must be seventy feet high for his head to be seen above the horizon; therefore, at twenty or thirty miles, a portion of the clouds would be beneath the horizon, not a great distance for sound to be heard on a still evening, or a flash of light to be seen as evening closed in. These storm-clouds, without rain, always precede the rainy season, as also the sand-storms, and those gigantic whirlwinds that may be seen passing over the desert by the dozen, and extending in some instances 1000 feet high, carrying up sand, sticks, and other articles that lie in their course; many of them measure 100 feet through. It is a strange sight to see many of these sand-columns passing along over a plain. I have observed, where the first passes, in the course of the day others follow exactly in the same line: they indicate a change in the weather. The mirage is also of daily occurrence. In travelling through the country, its general features appear to have entirely changed by imaginary lakes, looking so perfectly natural; lofty trees appear to be standing in water; long belts of bush and wood, which the traveller may be approaching, seem suspended in the air, showing their reflection in the vapoury atmosphere between them and the observer, which does not extend above a few feet from the ground: that apparently vanishes as you proceed, but you are passing through it; isolated hills look like islands, by their base being surrounded by this moist air, which is not confined to any particular time of day, but towards the afternoon they are more frequent. If there is any wind, of course there is no mirage, as it disperses the damp air which causes it.
Montsioa territory is rich in cattle, which is sold to colonial traders. The natives also are cultivating their lands for corn, and a great sale in ploughs is the consequence. They are improving in every way, but for the last three years the Boers have laid waste the country, killing the people by hundreds, robbing them of their property, and stealing from them 30,000 head of cattle, besides sheep and goats, causing untold misery amongst a people who never injured them by word or deed. I write this from my own personal knowledge, being there at the time, and having only just returned to this country. The only means of preserving these people, and improving their condition, which is essential also to the prosperity and advancement of the Cape Colony, is to annex their lands.