The Cape and the Kaffirs: A Diary of Five Years' Residence in KaffirlandWard, Mrs.
History
The Cape and the Kaffirs: A Diary of Five Years' Residence in Kaffirland
Ward, Mrs.
South Africa -- History -- Frontier Wars, 1811-1878
But why go dreaming back from the brimming, shady Sunday River to the
"stately homes of England!" On, on! and let us be thankful, that so far
from home there is yet so much to be thankful for, and to enjoy. Oh!
for the blessed philosophy which teaches us to make light of every
thing! Truly, content is riches! In a moral point of view, may it not
be considered as bearing an analogy to the story of the philosopher's
stone, (always remembering the one to be theory, the other practicable),
which was supposed to possess the gift of transmuting whatever the
possessor of it touched into gold?
On, then, through the river! The sun is up upon the hills; the troops
are refreshed, the oxen willing, the day balmy, and the road better than
I expected. How the mimosa-bushes scent the air! and here and there
some, taller than the others, fling down a pleasant shade, affording
cool resting-places for the travellers.
At night we outspanned on the Quagga Flats, not so beautifully
picturesque as the spots we had hitherto selected, but still pretty well
wooded and watered. Here, for the first time, owing to the rain, which
began to fall in torrents, we slept in the waggon,--an arrangement I did
not at all like; its narrow and close shape give to an excitable mind
the idea of the German story of the "Iron Shroud." I was awakened in
the middle of the night, by the lowing of the cattle and the rattling of
the horse's halter, by which he was fixed to the wheel. We soon found
that the restlessness thus manifested by the poor animals arose from the
noise of neighbouring wolves, which are always more likely to approach
the dwellings of man in wet than in favourable weather. The rain poured
in torrents, the violence of which can only be understood by those who
have experienced it. Fortunately, the morning proved tolerably fine,
and we proceeded, in the usual order, through the Addo Bush, the scenery
decreasing in beauty as we advanced, but still affording a tolerable
supply of wood and water at the spots where we outspanned. I had read
and heard much of steenboks, and other noble game, but we saw nothing of
the kind, not even a monkey; nor did we even hear the laugh of the hyena
at night. Others said they had done so; but we did not.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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