One Sunday night we in the town could hear them singing their peculiar war chant, and such wonderful precision have they in time that the mighty chorus from the thousands of voices came down to us like the beating of a great heart. The effect of their deep melodious voices, as they rolled out on the moonlit midnight air in a great wave of sound, was weird and fearsome to a degree. We could not tell whether their fury might not rise to such a pitch as to send them rushing down upon us like naked fiends, yelling, stabbing, and spearing. But they seemed to be satisfied with a little bloodshed among themselves, and the Gaikas and Fingoes, after a few days, resumed their work on the beach and in the store side by side. But the alarm brought home to the colonists the danger existing in their midst. The black population outnumbers the white throughout the colony by almost six to one. In the town it is quite three to one, and a general uprising under an intelligent head could not but result in the total annihilation of every white face in the country. The colonists never seem to think such a contingency likely, relying on the internal dissensions between the different tribes and the moral force the white man seems to possess over the untutored black man. After remaining in Port Elizabeth seven months, we held a family conclave and came to the conclusion that we did not wish to leave the country until we had tried the climate of the Orange Free State, which we had heard lauded to the skies. So we bade adieu to Port Elizabeth, thinking it a very pleasant place to visit, and taking a parting look at the sea, we were whirled away to Grahamstown. From here we left by railroad for Cradock, a town some sixty miles east. Like Grahamstown, Cradock is the centre of a large wool-gathering district, and is laid out in boulevards and watered streets. It is situated on the Great Fish River, over which there is a fine stone bridge. It is at least forty feet above the surface of the water, which, at the time of our visit, flowed slowly between its arches in a sluggish stream, some fifty feet wide. Several years ago, after heavy rains up country, the river became suddenly so fierce, rapid, and swollen that the whole structure, solid as it was, was swept away by the first wave, which is described as advancing, with little or no warning, like a solid wall of water, fifty feet high. There is a Dutch Reformed Church, a well-built Town Hall, and a few houses and stores, with a population of three to four thousand inhabitants.