e reports everything to the English Government,
the Boers have it in their power to make his position anything but a
pleasant one. In any case, the English portion of the community here,
while admitting his good qualities socially, have little confidence in
him officially.

"My object in writing this letter, however, is not so much to show what
a disgraceful state the Government is in, as to try and awaken sympathy
in the breasts of my countrymen for the cause of these loyal Chiefs.
While the Government are writing despatches to the British Resident,
these Chiefs and their people are being ruined past remedying."

VI

A VISIT TO THE CHIEF SECOCOENI[*]

[*] This paper was written just before the Annexation of the
Transvaal in 1877.

Towards the end of March I had occasion to visit the Basuto chief
Secocoeni, in his native stronghold beyond the Loolu Berg, a range to
the north-east of Pretoria, about 250 miles away; and as this journey
was typical of travelling in the wilds of South Africa, an account of it
may prove interesting.

It is perhaps necessary to explain, for the benefit of those who are not
acquainted with South African politics, that Secocoeni is the chieftain
who has been at war with the late Transvaal Republic, who drove back its
forces, capturing some 7000 head of cattle. It is from this raid that
the present state of affairs has arisen; so that this obscure chief,
with his 9000 warriors, has materially affected the future destinies of
South Africa. Negotiations of peace had been set on foot, and it was
in connection with these delicate matters that the journey was to be
undertaken.

"Going to Secocoeni at this time of year! Ah!" said one gentleman.
"Well, look here. I sent five natives through that country in this same
month (March) last year; out of those five, three died of the fever, and
the other two just got through with their lives. I only tell you, you
know, that you may take precautions. This is a bad fever year." However,
fever or no fever, we had to go. As it was necessary to travel rapidly,
we could only take four riding-horses, three for ourselves and the
fourth for a Zulu named "Lankiboy," who also led a pack-horse,
and carried an enormous "knob-kerry," or shillelagh, stuck in his
button-hole, as though it were a wedding-bouquet.

Behind our saddles were fastened our saddle-bags, containing a change
of clothing, and in front we strapped a rug and a mackintosh.
Our com