The last region of which we have any account is known as Kimberley, and a city of ten thousand inhabitants, with banks, hotels, churches, and theaters, has grown up there. In its general features, it is not unlike a frontier city in California or Colorado, except that its streets are filled with carts carrying earth away from the diggings, and with great numbers of negroes who come to work in the mines. The diamonds are found in a conglomerate which is dug up from the bottom of what has once been a deep cañon. At Kimberley, the cañon is two hundred feet deep, and one thousand feet across. When one descends into this place, it is almost impossible to hear the human voice, on account of the noise made by the wheels and buckets, and the picks, shovels, and other tools of the miners. In the early times of the mining excitement at the Cape, the negroes were reasonably honest, but association with the white man has made them otherwise. When they can steal the diamonds they do so. They will secrete them in their ears, their mouths, or their noses, and a negro has been known to work an entire day with two or three diamonds concealed between his toes.
HOW AN ENGLISHMAN LOST A DIAMOND.
An interesting story is told of how an Englishman lost, one day, a valuable diamond, through his impetuosity. He had found a very large and fine stone at the bottom of his pit, and was coming up the ladder, carrying the diamond in his mouth. A negro happened to shake the top of the ladder, whereupon the Englishman proceeded to swear at him, as an Englishman might be expected to do. The result was, the diamond fell from his mouth down into the pit or into a neighboring one, and its whereabouts was never discovered by the unlucky finder. We have heard of mouths that speak pearls, but it is rarely the case that one hears of a mouth swearing diamonds.
In the early days at the diamond mines, there was a good deal of rioting and trouble. There was not much observance of law, mainly for the reason that there was no law. But at present, every thing is orderly and peaceable. The diamond fields are partly in regions controlled by the British government, and partly in the Republic of the Orange Free States. The latter country became known to many Americans through the Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia, in 1876. It had a small display, but a very attractive one. First and foremost, of course, were the diamonds in the rough, which included many specimens of stones, varying in color and size. Then came a quantity of the soil in which the gems are found, and then the pebbles which accompany the diamonds. Copper, iron, and other ores were exhibited; many excellent specimens of leather were displayed; there was a collection of stuffed birds; there were tusks of ivory, skins of various wild beasts, specimens of wool, and a model of the carts used to convey it to the coast. The great business of the country is in grazing, and the sheep and cattle in its limits may be counted by millions. Its population is estimated at about one hundred thousand, of which three-fourths are whites. Of late years, the farmers have found an excellent market for many articles of produce, by taking them to the diamond mines.
SCENE AT AN AUCTION.
The scene at the sale of edibles is a curious one. As the fields became thickly populated, there was a great demand for fruits and vegetables, and the farmers sent in everything they could spare. At one time, oranges sold for twenty-five cents each, potatoes for seven cents a pound, and eggs one dollar and twenty-five cents a dozen. Nearly everything was sold at auction, the farmers arranging the things in lots to suit purchasers, and then submitting them to the care of the market master. The scene at an auction is thus described:
“At seven o’clock in the morning, the market master mounts a stool, and business commences. An eager crowd surrounds him, of all colors and nations, yelling, talking, laughing, and making themselves merry, when suddenly a dead silence falls on the reckless assemblage, as a pail of eggs are held up to their gaze. ‘Now, how much for the eggs, at per dozen?—one shilling bid?’ A dozen heads bob in the affirmative. Two shillings; three. The price rises, until the man with the long purse becomes their owner. Up goes a pumpkin. A rush by the crowd. Every eye seeks that of the auctioneer. Every man wants to bid; but in the twinkling of an eye it’s gone. ‘For how much?’ an outsider asks of another. ‘Cheap at three “bob”’ (shillings), he answers. Up goes another pumpkin, and another, until very likely a whole wagon-load is disposed of, at prices which make the old Boer’s face wrinkle with smiles. Next there is a scramble to get exactly over a heap of fine potatoes which are to be sold. Two or three weaker ones get upset in the rush, while a dense circle of giant and muscular diggers surrounds the center of attraction. Of course the unlucky outsiders have no chance of catching the market-master’s eye, and, in self-defense, form an opposition circle around the next pile, each one mentally calculating the amount of ‘tin’ he is prepared to stake on the produce before him. This exciting work goes on until nine o’clock, when the crowd of diggers, having purchased everything eatable, leave for their claims, while the lucky owners of the wagons crowd into the little market-office, eager to receive the price of their loads, and to ‘trek’ away from the city of tents.”
STRUGGLING WITH NATURE.
The diamond fields are subject to heavy rains, and also to very sudden and furious winds. The amount of dust and flies in circulation, is quite uncalculable. One visitor says that the flies, troublesome as they are, are much more agreeable than the dust. “Although persecuting one most incessantly by day, night puts a stop to their torments, while no sooner does a puff of air come from yonder plain, than you inhale a volume of dust—not the earthy, loamy dust of agricultural land, but the whitish-gray lung powder which has been refined by the action of shovel and sieve, until it is as light as air. It impregnates your food, your hair is like a door mat, and your eyes have a chronic soreness, as though a thousand delicate needles were pricking into the eyeballs, while your body is chafed and sore from the friction of dusty clothes. All this is unpleasant; but we will suppose that the gentle wind has increased to a howling tempest, that storm clouds fill the sky, and tents shake to the breeze; then, and then only, do the diggers reach the climax of misery. From hundreds of sieves, and hundreds of conical dust heaps, the wind gathers its load, and, like some malicious fiend, sweeps through the camp, turning the light of day into a hideous yellow twilight, circling around unprotected tents, and through all the seams and cracks, filling them full of floating dust. The diggers sneeze, cough, weep, and for relief rush into the open air, or more properly, into an air of lime, where, utterly choked and blinded, they fall on their faces, there to gasp for breath, like a dying turtle, and curse the day they saw the fields.