roads there are none, what we drove over are better
described as good wide paths, like footways—but
broader—across rugged common lands at home, with
dips and hollows, large half-buried stones in some
places, and small streams and rivulets—spruits-—to cross
occasionally, with jolting and bumping, which is the
more noticeable on a first journey. But these rolling
grassy plains and bare hills, stretching for hundreds of
miles around, are not only invigorating, but positively
exhilarating. It is winter, though the days are hot.
No rain now falls, and the veld is covered with a close
dried-up growth of herbage, giving a light brown tinge
to the landscape till it meets the clear blue sky-line.
It is at sunrise when these hues become intensified and
tinged with the reflected solar light, and pale carmine and
deep umber tints are then exhibited. We change horses
about every hour at small wayside posting-houses, generally
covered with the universal roof of corrugated iron,
for here there are neither tiles nor slates, and wood has
to be imported or transported to these treeless wastes.
Ch a n g in g Mules on t h e V e l d .
One man drives—“ Cape Boys ” excel at this work,—
the conductor sits by his side, and it is he who wields
the long whip and helps to pilot the driver. The road
is up-hill, amidst mountains, and glorious views ; Natal
here bids her farewell to the Dutch Republic, and a
wilderness again reigns beyond. We pass through the
scene of the late Boer War, past Majuba Hill, and
through Laings Nek: but it is a sorry subject; all
these fights took place on Natal territory which the
Boers had invaded, and brave English soldiers sleep
around slain by the unerring bullets of plain Boer
farmers who were held too cheap. Both sides were
composed of brave men, but the rules of war observed
by our commanders were too little marked by the
subtlety of border warfare and too much by parade and
field-day observance. Two small trees, since planted by
his wife, mark the resting-place of the bold, genial, but
unfortunate General Colley. These trees stand alone,
the silence of the veld surrounds them; by Colley’s
side lies the body of a companion in arms, whilst
Majuba Hill at a short distance frowns above. It is a
bitter and a sad spot for Englishmen, and we feel relieved
as the night covers us while passing through
Laings Nek, and painful memories are left behind.
Volksrust and a small posting-house or hotel is reached
about 8 P .M ., and now we have entered the Transvaal
and our luggage is searched. The search is thorough,
but courteous. Individuals who have lately had their
word accepted by the Inspectors that they carried nothing
excisable have afterwards boasted at Johannesburg
and Pretoria how they have “ done ” the Customs
and smuggled through their duty-paying effects ; hence
greater care is now taken and Englishmen have certainly
no reason to complain. We take dinner and go to bed
1—always two and sometimes four beds in a room ; but
at 2.80 a.m. we are again aroused, and by 3 a.m. we are
huddled up in the coach, for now the break is exchanged
for the real mail-coach with a team of ten horses. It
is perfectly dark and very cold, the windows are all
pulled up, and though we have three ladies—who do
not object—nine pipes are put in active work. One
passenger tried very hard to start a conversation, but
the darkness and the early hour were too depressing,
and silence and tobacco resumed their sway. The dawn
broke about 6 a.m., and a white frost was seen on the
veld; but as the sun rose and the mists were dispelled
the view once more asserted its lonely grandeur, the
clear atmosphere became positively tonic, whilst a small
herd of Buck were seen about a mile away. These