A COURTLY HOST 187 



tain falls steeply into the gorge, at the bottom 

 of which the dry bed of the Anys River lies. 

 In the centre stood, skeleton-like, the inevit- 

 able unfinished church, its narrow gables up- 

 lifted like clamorous hands to heaven in an 

 apparently vain appeal for funds. 



The groaning, bumping wagon came to a 

 halt before a low cottage built of sun-dried 

 bricks and thatched with reeds. From it 

 emerged a figure startling in its incongruity. 

 This was a tall, elderly, erect man dressed in 

 black broad-cloth, with a bell-topper and a 

 very voluminous white choker. He was col- 

 oured; that was quite evident, but the stately 

 dignity of his stride as he advanced, and the 

 courtly grace of his demeanour when he 

 greeted us, could not have been improved 

 upon by a Chesterfield. Self-confidence and 

 a complete ease of manner were apparent in 

 every word, in every graceful gesture. He 

 spoke in High Dutch, before which my homely 

 " taal " faltered, abashed. I should say his 

 age was nearer seventy than sixty. This was 

 the Reverend Mr. Hein, Resident Missionary 

 of Kuboos and Dictator of the Richtersveld. 



Feeling somewhat subdued, we followed Mr. 

 Hein to his dwelling, where he ushered us 

 through the lowly portal. The room we en- 



