Oh! how many are there who will work for themselves, instead of waiting for Providence’s gracious helping hand.
Mr Daveney and Marion were on horseback.
The people pressed forward to say “Farewell.” Father and daughter had a hand for each, and one blue-eyed, fair-haired child would be lifted up to be kissed.
“Ah!” said an Englishwoman, “bless Miss Marion! she has no pride.”
“Troth, an ye’r wrong,” interposed an Irish one. “Sure it’s herself that has the real pride—the pride of the lady, that knows she does not demean herself by showing the good-will to all God’s creatures.”
The little procession moved slowly and silently across the grassy plain. The people at Annerley watched it till the glittering bayonets of the escort were lost in the haze; and when “the master” was fairly out of sight, Markland, the old settler, put the house in order, and assumed the command.
Daveney had planned his line of march intending to avoid Sir John Manvers’s camp; but, on the third day’s journey, the sound of harmonious voices swelling in chorus struck on the surprised ears of the party. A deep glen lay just below; the cavalcade halted; they could see nothing, for the cliffs overhung the gorge. The sounds drew near—’twas an old Scotch air, very martial and stirring, especially in that deep solitude. In front was an opening, an outlet from the glen. Mr Daveney and Marion rode forward, and looked down.
Soldiers singing on a march! Reader, did you ever hear it? Ah, it is worth a world of fine, well-taught, scientific melodies! You should have seen them in this mountain-pass. They were Highlanders, not kilted, but they wore the “tartan trews.”
Beating time with steady tread to the noble chorus, they passed below the cliff from which Daveney and his daughter Marion watched them. Truly this had a singular effect in that ravine, so like a Scottish glen, with mountains looming far and near, and—oh! rare in Southern Africa—a waterfall tumbling and foaming over hoary rocks.
Softly it rose and fell upon the air, again burst forth in full harmony as the glen widened, and died away in the shade where the pathway narrowed between tall hills.