lishman mad. A Boer farmer, sitting on his stoep,
large and strong, but absolutely lethargic, is the very incarnation of
the spirit of the veldt. At the same time, when one remembers the
clatter and gabble of our civilisation, it is impossible to deny him a
certain dignity, though it may be only the dignity of cattle.

The problem will apparently be, when we have burnt these people out or
shot them, and in various ways annexed a good deal of the land they now
live on, how are we to replace them? What strikes one is that time and
the country, acting on the naturally phlegmatic Dutch character, has
produced a type exactly suited to this life and these surroundings. And
it does seem in many ways a pity to destroy this type unless you have
something to take its place. Except in one or two very limited areas,
accessible to markets, and where there is a water supply, no English
colonist would care to settle in this country. The Canadians and
Australians, many of whom volunteered, and came here with the view of
having a look at the land and perhaps settling, are, I hear, unanimous
in condemning it. Indeed, it does not require any great knowledge of
agriculture to see that a country like this, a lofty table-land, dry and
barren, with no market handy, or chance of irrigation, is a wretched
poor farming country. Hence the pity it seems of wiping out the
burghers. They may not be a very lofty type of humanity, but they had
the advantage in nature's scheme of filling a niche which no one else,
when they are turned out, will care to fill in their place. The old
dead-alive farm, the sunny stoep, the few flocks and herds and wandering
horses sparsely scattered over the barren plain, the huge ox-waggon,
most characteristic and intimate of their possessions, part tent and
part conveyance, formed for the slow but sure navigation of these
solitudes, and reminding one a great deal of the rough but seaworthy
smacks and luggers of our coasts, that somehow seem in their rudeness
and efficiency to stand for the very character of a whole life, all
these things are no doubt infinitely dear to the Boer farmer, and make
up for him the only life possible, but I don't think it would be a
possible life for any one else. It seems inevitable that large numbers
of farms, owing to death of owners, war indemnity claims, bankruptcy,
and utter ruin of present holders, &c., will fall into the hands of our
Government when the war is over, and these will be esp