A Breath from the Veldt 45 



objection to taking life, but because this little weapon has never been acclima- 

 tised in any part of South Africa where the British have obtained a foothold. 



It was a pretty illustration of the contrast of yesterday with to-day that 

 I witnessed, one fine morning, in front of the Grand Hotel. A young lady, 

 evidently a music-hall star fresh from Whitechapel, had been drawing crowded 

 houses in "Jo" with a more than risque song, and to-day, dressed like a stage 

 duchess, she was preparing to take the air in the finest chariot in the place. 

 A group of men were watching her from the stoep of the " Central," and 

 as she climbed up into her seat with the assistance of her temporary cavalier, 

 she regaled them with a display of ankle that was something more than 

 generous. At the same moment a Shangan witch doctor, one of the most 

 picturesque and wild-looking creatures I ever saw, stalked slowly up the middle 

 of the street — for these men are not allowed to walk on the pavement — and 

 as the idol of the hour moved off, the attention of the crowd was directed to 

 him. From head to foot he was bedecked with bizarre ornaments char- 

 acteristic of a land of savages accustomed from childhood to regard them as 

 emblems of supernatural power ; and conscious of this, he carried himself with 

 an air of dignity that could not fail to impress even those who knew him for 

 the rascal he undoubtedly was. For my part, I was immensely struck with 

 the picture he presented in contrast with his strange surroundings — this 

 meeting together of the old world and the new. No particle of interest 

 betrayed itself in his face as he gazed for a moment on this vulgar, flashily- 

 dressed woman, to whom all eyes were directed. His mind was no doubt 

 on his business, to wait upon some poor wretch who could possibly be killed 

 or cured by one of his mysterious drugs. And this queen of society, as in his 

 mind she undoubtedly was, belonged to a world in which he had no part. 



After passing four days in the Golden City, I came across a young 

 Afrikander, who after some talk promised to introduce me to a Dutch farmer 

 who was about to start on a hunting trip to the Low Countries. This he 

 was good enough to do the following morning, when for the first time I made 

 the acquaintance of Martinus Landsberg, a good-looking and well-mannered 

 fellow of the better-class Dutch, and fortunately able to speak English well. 

 We soon came to business. I hired his waggon and oxen for an eight months' 

 trip into the interior, and arranged for our starting together on the following 

 Tuesday. 



Now, a prolonged expedition in a land like this is rather a serious business. 

 There is the outfit to be thought about, black boys and horses to engage, stores 



