Natal was absolutely different from any other part of South Africa, inasmuch as it was mainly British! In Cape Town you heard as much Dutch spoken as English, if not more. Towns like Stellenbosch or Wellington might be called all Dutch, and I remember when I first visited those places I wondered in a vague sort of way how it happened that the British flag flew over them, by which it is evident that I had not learned my history properly. But in Durban there was a different atmosphere. It was essentially British and the inhabitants prided themselves upon being up to date and live specimens of colonists. They were, moreover, intensely loyal, and fully realised what their country was going to be in the future. I was sitting in the Durban Club one Sunday afternoon and certain men were arguing as to the possibility of a railway between Durban and Pietermaritzburg, the journey in those days being made by mail cart. Escombe brought the matter to a head with the following words addressed to a sugar planter named Tom Milner, a splendid fellow who had come out with me on the first voyage of the _Roman_: “Look here, Milner, I will give you a shilling a day until I go by train from Durban to Maritzburg; after that you shall pay my butcher’s bill for life!--is it a bet?” Milner said yes, and this being in 1872 he received his cheque yearly until about eight years later when the railway was built and the bet was compromised. I fancy he paid back two shillings for each one received. No one walked in Natal. If a man wished to go one hundred yards down the street, the Kaffir boy invariably brought his horse. There was never any difficulty in borrowing a mount. The people were most generous and hospitable; but underlying it all there was the sure knowledge that the great Zulu power in the north would some day have to be reckoned with. There was one little incident that happened about this time that should find a place here, for it shows that even then the minds of Germans were fixed upon the great expansion of their nation. There was a small German trading steamer on the coast called the _Bismarck_. She was commanded by a very fine fellow named Staats, who wore a magnificent beard. On one occasion he had a difference of opinion with the Point boatmen, who were not quite as bad as the East London men, although very nearly, and they declared they would cut off his beard. Staats, however, set them at defiance, and declared that the German flag was sufficient to prevent such an outrage even then, and would be for all time. The men admired his pluck and cheered him, for it took a bit of doing.