straight man like Sir Bartle Frere conld not manage the
President is only explainable on faults of individuality
and not of character. An Indian proconsul, with his
acquired hauteur and social exclusiveness, which are so
often more apparent than real, is no diplomatist for the
Transvaal; the imported Hollander, however, is, and
has been, too often a financial curse to the Republic. ^
The Boer to-day is what may be called “ smart ” in
the little business he does with the community, and this
applies principally in the relation of sample to bulk of the
produce he disposes on the market. But it must not
he forgotten that he has learned much of this through
hitter experience and from those who now speak the
strongest on the subject. The Chosen People swarm in
the Transvaal and have pitted their financial and commercial
talents against the once unsophisticated farmer,
with of course one result. One Israelite, whom I frequently
saw in Pretoria, and of whom many good and
other stories were told, had acted as produce agent for
a Boer, whom he generally cheated of a few pounds, in
the settlement. One day the Boer arrived indignant,
and with a “ ready reckoner” in his hand demanded a
balance. “What book have you thereV’ enquired the
clever Semite. “A ready reckoner.” “ Let me see i t ;”
and then returning it contemptuously to the dissatisfied
one, added with withering scorn, “ why it is last year’s
edition you have got! ” The Boer retired mystified.
The Boers seldom laugh, and have no gaiety; they
know neither the pleasures of music, literature, nor even
the table; they are fond of shooting, and are perhaps
the finest shots in the world, though they have now
nearly exterminated all the big game. No people have
ever made the wagon such a home, or driven it with
such skill. They possess all the virtues iof home life,
and are sober and thrifty, drinking perhaps less alcohol
and smoking more tobacco than any other people. They
have a character for inhospitality, as many a lone and
weary traveller or prospector who has sought the shelter
of their houses, or asked for food, will declare. But the
Boer wished to be left alone, his early treks were made
for solitude as well as freedom. He is amazed at the
developments of the big towns and prefers the quietude
of his farm. Other people are now supplanting him in
the Republic; his habits of retirement will prove his
efiacement, and his want of education will consign
him to oblivion unless he treks still further on. If the
records of these early treks could only be gathered
before the chief actors, who are now old, have passed
away, much zoological and ethnological information
would be saved, often of no mean importance; whilst
deeds of endurance and heroism would be recorded, and
a love of exploration disclosed, that would rival the
doings of some of our modem travellers who write big
books and receive great receptions.
I have sought to be impartial to the Boer, whom I
respect but cannot love; and my principal remarks
apply to the real Boers, the farmers, the dwellers on the
plains, and not to the official Krugers, Jouberts, Smits,
and others, who really constitute the Boer aristocracy,
and no more represent the average population than the
inhabitants of the West-end of London are typical of the
real population of England. The shadows are deepening
over these hardy farmers, the pen will conquer what
the sword could not subdue, and they must he either
absorbed in or fly from the busy mercantile population
that is now surrounding and must ultimately dispossess
them. In the nineteenth century there seems no room
for this old pastoral life, especially when nature has
baited the soil with auriferous deposits; but I shall ever
remember the family wagon of the Boer when my fancy
recalls the peaceful wilderness of the veld.