{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44456/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44456","id":"gutenberg_44456","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44456","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: History - Other","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Lesotho -- Social life and customs","Sotho (African people)"],"text":"BASUTOLAND:\n\nITS LEGENDS AND CUSTOMS\n\nBY\n\nMINNIE MARTIN\n\nLONDON:\nNICHOLS & CO.,\n34 HART STREET, BLOOMSBURY, W.C,\nAND\n23 OXFORD STREET, W.\n1903.\n\n\nROBERT STOCKWELL,\nPrinter,\nBADEN PLACE, CROSBY ROW, BOROUGH,\nLONDON, S.E.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n                                                                    PAGE\nCHAPTER I.\n\nOUTLINE OF BASUTO HISTORY--LIFE OF MOSHESHUE--LETSIE--LEROTHOLI--THE\n\"PITSO\"--PRINCIPAL CHIEFS--SCENERY--MANNER OF HERDING--NATURAL\nFEATURES OF THE COUNTRY--BUSHMEN--RIVERS--WATERFALLS--\"KHAPONG,\"\nOR UNSEEN FIRE--CLIMATE                                                1\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nAPPEARANCE OF BASUTO--ALBINOS--CHARACTER--NATIVE VILLAGES--HUTS--\nMANNER OF BUILDING--MANNER OF LIVING--NATIVE DRESS--ORNAMENTS         21\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nMANNER OF CULTIVATING THE SOIL--GRAIN--HARVEST--FOODS--DRINKS--MANNER\nOF EATING--RESOURCES OF THE COUNTRY--CONDITION OF COUNTRY--IMPORTS--\nHORSES--PACK OXEN--NUMBER OF WIVES--STATUS OF WOMEN--\"LETSIMA\"--BASUTO\nWOMEN--CHILDREN--SEASONS--MANNER OF COUNTING--RELIGIOUS CUSTOMS--\nMUSICAL INSTRUMENTS--HEATHEN \"SCHOOLS\"--AMUSEMENTS                    32\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nCHIEF WARS--THEIR CAUSES AND EFFECTS--MOROSI--DISARMAMENT\nACT--DEATH OF MOLAPO--INFLUENCE OF THE MISSIONARIES--COMPENSATION--\nRESIGNATION OF COL. GRIFFETH--GENERAL GORDON--SIR MARSHALL\nCLARKE--STATE OF BASUTOLAND FROM 1843 TO PRESENT TIME--MODE OF\nGOVERNMENT--HUT TAX--EXPENDITURE--MISSION SOCIETIES                   52\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHABA BOSIGO--CANNIBALS--THEIR MANNER OF CAPTURING AND DESTROYING\nTHEIR VICTIMS--MARK OF A CANNIBAL--\"BAKUENA,\" OR THE PEOPLE OF THE\nCROCODILE--SUPERSTITIONS--LAND TENURE                                 71\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nMARRIAGE CUSTOMS--DEATH CUSTOMS                                       80\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nBIRTH CUSTOMS--EDUCATION--INTELLECT--CHARACTER--NEWS CARRIERS         93\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nNATIVE DOCTORS--RAIN MAKING--\"THOKOLOSI,\" OR THE LITTLE DWARF--\n\"MOLOI\"--MODE OF PREPARING FOR WAR--PROVERBS                         102\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nBOERS AND BASUTO                                                     111\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nTHE STORY OF TAKANE                                                  118\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nHOW KHOSI CHOSE A WIFE                                               129\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nTHE VILLAGE MAIDENS AND THE CANNIBAL                                 134\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nMORONGOE, THE SNAKE                                                  139\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nTHE SON CHIEF                                                        144\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nHOW RA-MOLO BECAME A SNAKE                                           155\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nLELIMO AND THE MAGIC CAP                                             159\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nTHE CHIEF AND THE TIGERS                                             163\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nTHE MAID AND THE SNAKE LOVER                                         167\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTHE FAMINE                                                           172\n\n\n\n\nDedication.\n\n\n_To T. L----._\n\nDEAR ----\n\nSome time ago, during a conversation about Basutoland, you suggested\nthat I should write an account of the country and its inhabitants, and\nwere kind enough to give me many valuable hints as to how I should\ncollect and arrange my information.\n\nAs you know, we came out to South Africa in January, 1891, and went up\nto Basutoland in the following April.\n\nWe both liked the country from the first, and I soon became interested\nin the people. To enable myself to understand them better, I began to\nstudy the language, which I can now speak fairly well.\n\nThe fact of my husband being a Government official gave me many\nopportunities of acquiring information, and, as we have been moved\nabout from one station to another, having had six \"homes\" in the ten\nyears of our sojourn there, I have naturally seen a considerable portion\nof the country, and come in contact with many different specimens of the\nBasuto race. I have made a practice of visiting the different villages,\nand of seeing as much as possible of the inner life of the people, with\nthe result that I have at length put my impressions on paper, in the\nhope that they may be found of some value to those who take an interest\nin native habits and customs.\n\nFor the kind help and encouragement I have received from you, I am\ndeeply grateful, and hope you will allow me to dedicate to you this\nsmall volume, which, without your aid, would never have been written.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo those who have most kindly helped me with information, I tender my\ngrateful thanks.\n\nMINNIE MARTIN.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nOUTLINE OF BASUTO HISTORY--MOSHESHUE--LETSIE--LEROTHOLI--SCENERY--\nCLIMATE.\n\n\nWere I to attempt to give a complete history of the Basuto I should fail\nutterly, for my own personal knowledge of South Africa only extends over\nthe last ten years. Although several books have been written on the\nsubject by missionaries, the Basuto as a nation do not seem capable of\ngiving one much reliable information beyond the time of Tokoana\nMakhautha, the grandfather of Mosheshue.\n\nHere and there through the country old men are to be found who possess\nmarvellous stores of knowledge, but how much it can be relied upon,\nwould be a question impossible to answer satisfactorily.\n\nMy readers will, I hope, therefore content themselves with a brief\nsketch of Basuto history from about the middle of the eighteenth\ncentury.\n\nTokoana Makhautha was chief at that time of a considerable tract of\ncountry in and around Witsies' Hoek. He seems to have been a stern,\nambitious man, with little of the \"milk of human kindness\" in his\ncharacter.\n\nHe was succeeded by his son Mokhatchane, who, however, possessed little\npower, and who, when his children were come to manhood, installed his\nson Mopeli at Witsies' Hoek, while he himself followed the fortunes of\nhis favourite son, who as a youth bore the name of \"Lepoko\" (a quarrel),\nbecause he was born during a time of strife, but who afterwards assumed\nthe name of Mosheshue.\n\nFrom the time of his abdication old Mokhatchane seems to have led a more\nor less retired life at Thaba Bosigo, though no doubt he exerted a\ncertain amount of influence over Mosheshue, and was treated with\nconsiderable respect. Filial obedience is a very strong trait in all\nBasutos.\n\nMosheshue began his \"reign\" by subduing one or two small tribes, and\nwith these and his original followers betook himself to an almost\nimpregnable mountain in the centre of the Lesuto, called Thaba Bosigo\n(the Mountain of Night), where he built his village, fortifying it so as\nto make it a perfectly secure stronghold. Here he established his\nchieftainship, and, after various wars, reverses and successes,\nconquered or dispersed all rivals, and soon succeeded in becoming\nParamount Chief of the greater part of Basutoland, or, as it ought more\ncorrectly to be called, the Lesuto.\n\nMosheshue was possessed of great ambition, singular courage, and\nfirmness; but acts of brutality or injustice have never been coupled\nwith his name. Judging from all accounts, he seems to have been a bright\nexception to the chiefs of that time. His ambition was to rule the\nLesuto as its undisputed Sovereign, and he saw that to do so he must win\nnot only men's obedience, but their confidence and respect. He was a man\nof commanding appearance and very great intelligence. He taught his\npeople not only to respect but also to love him.\n\nDuring the greater part of his reign there were constant fights with\nvarious tribes, such as the Batlokua, the Amalubi, the Baputi, etc., but\none by one they gathered under his sway, and were ruled wisely and with\nwonderful justice and skill. He is still looked upon as the \"Great\nFather\" ('Ntate Mogholo) of his people, and the most sacred form of oath\nis that which swears \"truly by Mosheshue.\"\n\nIt was while he was yet in the prime of life that the first\nmissionaries, MM. Eugene Casalis, Arbousset and Gosselin, entered the\nLesuto, in 1833. M. Casalis, in his book, \"My Life in Basutoland,\"\ndescribes his introduction to Mosheshue (who he considers must have been\nthen about forty-five), his wizened old father, Mokhatchane, and his\nfavourite wife, a woman with a calm, happy face, and the manners of a\nlady, and between whom and her lord existed a very strong bond of love.\n\nBut chiefly M. Casalis was struck with Mosheshue, whom he describes as\na man with a \"majestic and benevolent look, a profile much more aquiline\nthan that of most of his subjects, a well-developed forehead, and eyes\nfull of intelligence and softness.\"\n\nMosheshue died in 1880, and was succeeded by his eldest son Letsie, a\nman of a cruel, crafty nature, who held his people forcibly to their\nallegiance, threatening, \"smelling out,\" and in many cases actually\ntorturing those who showed signs of rebellion. Strange to say, shortly\nbefore his death, he expressed a wish to become a Christian, but died\nbefore being baptized, in the spring of 1892, and was buried with great\npomp and ceremony on the top of Thaba Bosigo, the burial-place of the\ngreat chiefs. His son, Lerotholi, then became the Paramount Chief.\n\nLerotholi must be now about fifty years of age. He is a big, stout man,\nnot nearly so pleasing or attractive in appearance as some of the other\nchiefs, but by no means devoid of intelligence, and at times can be\nextremely polite and agreeable. As a boy, he was not allowed to share\nthe educational advantages of his brothers, and was for a time kept in\nthe mountains, in charge of his father's cattle; consequently he can\nneither read nor write, but he has considerable natural ability, and is\nquick to penetrate the right and wrong of the cases brought up to him\nfor judgment. Unfortunately, he inherits some of his father's cruel and\ncrafty qualities, and is much feared by his people, but he has a\nwholesome respect for his Sovereign, and that Sovereign's\nrepresentative, the Resident Commissioner. Yet, with such a nature as\nhis, I should think the greatest tact and patience are necessary. He\nhas, however, proved himself undoubtedly loyal, as have almost all the\nother chiefs, and, in fact, the whole nation; but how much is due to\ntheir own \"good hearts,\" and how much to the tactful way in which they\nwere handled, added to their hatred of the Dutch, I leave others to\nunravel.\n\nLerotholi is, of course, a polygamist, but then almost, if not all, the\nchiefs are the proud possessors of more than one wife, though none would\ndare to support an establishment as large as his, even if they could\nafford to do so.\n\nHe lives at Matsyeng, the headquarters of the Paramount Chief, situated\na short distance from Maseru, which latter place is the headquarters of\nthe Government. Near here is held the annual \"Pitso\" or Parliament, to\nwhich all the chiefs, the headmen and thousands of less exalted\npersonages flock. This Pitso is \"called\" by the Resident Commissioner,\nwho presides over the whole proceeding, surrounded by his staff, and all\nthe Assistant Commissioners from the separate districts. The laws which\nhave been drawn up or altered during the past year are then read out to\nthe people, and receive the approval of the chiefs. There is naturally a\ngood deal of discussion, but the people quite acknowledge British rule,\nand know that when a law is made they must obey it, though, if any real\nobjection is brought forward, it always receives due attention.\n\nAt the present time the principal chiefs under Lerotholi are Jonathan,\nJoel, Mama, Letsie (Lerotholi's son and heir-apparent), 'Nquebe and\nGriffeth. The latter is a younger and favourite son of the Paramount\nChief. Jonathan and Joel are sons of Molapo, and cousins of Lerotholi.\nThey are both men of considerable ability, Jonathan in particular being\nmost polished and well educated.\n\nThe Lesuto, or as it is more commonly called, Basutoland, is also called\nthe Switzerland of South Africa, a name well suited to such a\nmountainous country. To the big busy world it is a comparatively unknown\nland, but to those who have seen its wild, rugged beauty, it is a land\nof great attraction. It has an area of about 10,000 square miles, with a\npopulation of nearly 300,000, of whom only about 500 are European. The\ncountry itself is extremely mountainous, almost entirely destitute of\ntrees, save at the various magistracies and mission and trading\nstations, and at some of the larger and better-class villages.\n\nGovernment gives a considerable sum yearly to be spent in trees, which\nare distributed through the country, with a view to encouraging the\nnatives to raise timber. This is by no means difficult, as the Basutos\nare only too ready to plant anything and everything likely to be useful,\neither for food or in any other capacity.\n\nThe scenery of Basutoland is rugged and grand, with a beauty quite its\nown, and unlike any other part of South Africa I have seen. As you enter\nfrom the Orange River Colony, you see enormous rocks and \"kopjes\"\njutting up here and there all around you, while every now and then up\nrises a majestic mountain, as a rule with table-land on the summit;\nbelow lie fertile valleys and more or less (generally less) level\nplains, and in the far distance, looking east, rises the beautiful range\nof the Malutis, a spur of the Drackensberg Mountains, which separate\nBasutoland from Natal.\n\nThis is one of the most picturesque ranges imaginable. One day it stands\nout clear and sharp, every ravine visible to the naked eye, the next it\nis dim, distant, and to all appearances devoid of ravines or precipices;\nthen again it is capable of most varied tints, from pearly grey, dim and\nshadowy, to deep, rich, glowing purple, in the sun's setting rays. In\nthe winter the Malutis are nearly always covered with snow, which\ngreatly adds to the beauty of the scenery, but renders it most unsafe\nto travel. Often dense fogs come down without any warning, making it\nimpossible to see even a yard in front of one. Woe betide the hardy\ntraveller who attempts to continue his journey at such a time! It is\nalmost certain death.\n\nThe population on these mountains is very small, and consists chiefly of\nthe herds at the cattle posts, with an isolated village here and there.\nThese herds are generally youths and boys, whose duty it is to care for\nthe cattle and sheep, sent up from the different villages in the\n\"plains\" for the sake of the rich pasture to be found in the valleys and\non the table-lands of these mountains. Hither every autumn are brought\nall the animals that can be spared from the lower and more barren lands,\nto winter and escape the semi-starvation, and often death, which await\ntheir less fortunate fellows, whose fate it is to remain at the\nhomesteads below. It is quite a picturesque scene to see one of these\ncavalcades start. The herd boys pack up enough meal, salt, mealies and\nKaffir corn to last for their own use through the winter, their only\nother food being the flesh of any beast or bird they can manage to kill\nwith their sticks aided by their dogs, or the carcase of any of the\nflock which dies or comes to an untimely end. When the provisions are\nready, they are slung on the backs of several pack oxen, the younger\nboys taking charge of them, a boy to each ox, which they hold by a\nleather or grass rope converted into reins by being passed through the\npoor animal's nose and both ends tied together, making a loop long\nenough to pass over his horns on to his neck. All the guiding is done by\nhitting the horns. The older herds then take up their musical\ninstruments, which they begin to play, leading the way, followed by all\nthe flock, and accompanied by several dogs. The pack oxen and boys bring\nup the rear. In this way they journey to the particular spot chosen by\ntheir particular chief, and here they remain till summer comes, when\nthey return to their homes in the same manner as they set out. They\nnever hurry; the animals graze as they go, finding abundant pasture by\nthe way.\n\nAs I said before, the country is almost destitute of trees now, though\nit evidently was well wooded at one time. The soil is rich and fertile,\nthe crops sown by the Basuto in the most happy-go-lucky style yielding\nsplendid returns as a rule, and, where European care and skill have been\nexpended, richly repaying the owner.\n\nThe mountains in the western part of the country, which stand up in\nsolitary state, like great giants guarding their land, are for the most\npart flat topped, with splendid pasture on the table-land. They are\nwonderfully alike in size and shape, fairly easy of ascent near the\nbottom, steep and rocky, often precipitous near the top. A few of these\nmountains are conical in shape, and one or two are most grotesque.\n\nScattered all over the face of the country are numbers of enormous rocks\nof every conceivable shape, sometimes lying in solitary state, at other\nplaces grouped in twos and threes side by side, and yet again lying one\non the top of the other, often the larger one on top. This at a distance\npresents an appearance somewhat like a badly-shaped mushroom.\n\nAt Tsikoani, where Chief Jonathan Molapo lives, there is an enormous\nnatural table, constructed out of three great rocks. At the back of the\nvillage rises a steep mountain, almost precipitous on three sides. In\nthis are several caves, one of which extends for a considerable\ndistance, following as it were the outline of the mountain, then\nplunging recklessly through it, emerging at length upon the farther\nside. It is in most places of great height, but there are two extremely\nnarrow parts, like tiny passages, into large reception halls. In one of\nthese caves there are, on the roof, gigantic fossilized footprints,\nwhich at first were supposed to be those of some enormous bird. This\ngreatly exercised people's minds, for how, they argued, could a bird\nstand with head and body suspended downwards. However, it has now been\nproved that they are the footprints of a prehistoric lizard, and that\nformerly the rock must have been in an almost upright position. A\nportion of this rock was hewn out and sent to the last Kimberley\nExhibition, whence it found its way to the Bloemfontein Museum, where, I\nbelieve, it now lies.\n\nBeyond Tsikoani there lay, until quite recently, the trunk of a fossil\ntree, about ten feet in length and over two feet in diameter. When it\nwas discovered the European population of Leribe (in which district it\nwas found) were naturally much interested, and went in small parties on\nseveral occasions to visit the spot, carrying away small pieces of the\ntree as souvenirs. The Basuto could not understand these visits--their\nsuspicions were aroused--\"Could this stone contain some form of\nwitchcraft, or was there unknown wealth hidden within it?\" Not being\nable to solve the mystery, they destroyed the tree.\n\nFrom the curious shape of many of the large rocks, and from the\nformation of the \"kopjes,\" one is led to believe that in former ages the\ncountry must have been subject to great volcanic disturbances. To many\npeople, I should think the study of the various fossils and physical\nfeatures of the country would prove deeply interesting; even to watch\nthe changes caused in a few years by the floods, which turn tiny streams\ninto deep dongas, and wash away one landmark here and another there, is\nof no small interest.\n\nThe river-beds are rocky at and near their sources, gradually becoming\nsandy as they increase in size, with here and there rocky beds of a\nbasaltic appearance, continuing for perhaps a few hundred yards at most.\nOn the banks and in the coarser sandy beds are to be found beautifully\ntransparent crystals, sometimes of great size, also agates, and many and\nvaried beautifully coloured and polished stones.\n\nIn dry weather all the larger rivers in Basutoland are sluggish, calm\ntracts of water, the smaller streams mere silvery trickles, bubbling\nhappily in and out amongst the stones on their course, but they all rise\nrapidly, and in an almost incredibly short time become roaring torrents,\nmost dangerous, nay even impossible to ford. Both to see and hear a\nriver \"coming down\" is a thing never to be forgotten. The roar of the\nfirst big volume of water as it comes is not a pleasant sound to the\ntraveller crossing \"the drift,\" the sight still less pleasant if he is\nnot already across. There are no bridges in Basutoland, and many of the\ndrifts are steep and unpleasant, even in fine weather, when there is\nonly a normal quantity of water in the river.\n\nIn the time of the old chief Molapo, women invariably went to the top of\nLeribe Mountain, a large table-land, to dig for clay with which to\nplaster their huts. Upon one occasion they found some pretty stones,\nwhich they gave as playthings to their children. Some Europeans\nhappening to see these stones, at once recognised that they were\ndiamonds of considerable value, and endeavoured to buy them (one was\nreported to be \"as large as a big man's thumb\"), but Molapo, hearing of\nit, ordered the stones to be returned to the place where they were found\nand re-buried in the clay; nor would he, in future, allow any one to\nrevisit that spot. In order to keep a constant watch upon the place, he\nhad a village built close by, whose inhabitants were to inform him of\nany one attempting to disobey his commands. The village is still there,\nand the spot is guarded as jealously as ever. Very few people know of\nthis, and I do not suppose that more than two Europeans could find the\nplace where those diamonds lie buried. The Basuto have such a dread of\ntheir country becoming overrun with white men that they most jealously\nguard its wealth. The land is theirs, they say. If the white man thinks\nit has gold and diamonds he will take it from them.\n\nThis is not the only spot in the country upon which a constant watch is\nkept. There is gold quartz to be found in some of the river beds, and\nthey are guarded. There are reefs here and there through the western\npart of Basutoland which certainly indicate gold, and they, too, are\nguarded. A friend of mine one day, in walking up a hill, picked up a\npiece of quartz and took it home to show her husband. The next day she\nwas politely asked by the chief of the district why she had been picking\nup his stones, and would she be so kind as not to take any more from\nthat spot. It was, of course, very politely put, but it showed how much\nthe chief knew, and that he dreaded that knowledge being carried out of\nthe country.\n\nIn addition to the above, Basutoland also boasts of some very good coal,\nboth in the north and in the Mohale's Hoek district in the south; but,\nthough these mines have been worked to a certain extent for local\nconsumption, the chiefs have now put a stop to further workings. The\nnative brass and iron, too, is fairly good, and there is excellent clay\nfor pottery purposes.\n\nBeyond Chief Khabo's village, in the Leribe district, there is a cave on\nthe sides of which a salty deposit is formed, which, in former days, the\nbuck came to lick, and which the goats and sheep greatly appreciate now.\nInside the cave are some Bushman paintings of the usual type, while\noutside, near the entrance, are some traps made by the Bushmen to catch\nbuck. These traps are circular depressions in the ground, about ten feet\nin diameter. One wonders how such tiny people could have made them.\nOriginally they were of considerable depth, and were covered over with\nbushes. The victims caught in these traps were chiefly eland,\nhartebeeste, and springbok. There are Bushman caves in various parts of\nBasutoland, especially in the Quthing district, but in most of them the\npaintings have become rather indistinct, and in some cases have been\nalmost entirely obliterated by mischievous little herd boys. The scenes,\nas a rule, represent extremely minute Bushmen hunting and capturing\ngigantic elands. Occasionally a fight is depicted, in which huge Kaffir\nwarriors are fleeing in confusion before their triumphant pixie-like\nfoes.\n\nThere are now only about half-a-dozen survivors of the Bushman race in\nBasutoland, and they no longer live by themselves, but with the Basuto,\nwho treat them kindly and quite as members of their own families, though\nthe term \"Bushman,\" or, as it is in Sesuto, \"Baroa\" (literally the\nyellow people), is still one of contempt.\n\nThey are funny little stunted creatures, very yellow in colour, with\nhigh cheek-bones, small bright eyes, and a meagre quantity of hair on\ntheir heads, each woolly curl being quite separate and apart from the\nnext, with the scalp plainly visible all round.\n\nIn addition to its other many attractions, Basutoland possesses some\nreally beautiful waterfalls, the three largest being the far-famed\nMalutsunyane, the Telle, and the Ketane Falls. The Telle Falls are\nalmost unknown, but quite as high as, if not higher than, the\nMalutsunyane. They lie in the Quthing district, close to the Herschel\nborder. The other two falls are in the Maluti Mountains, about the\ncentre of Basutoland. To reach them is not easy, consequently the number\nof adventurers keen enough to face the discomforts and difficulties is\nsmall. Of course the rainy season is the best for seeing the falls to\nthe fullest advantage, as the volume of water is large and the effect\nmuch finer (on a bright day) than during the dry season; but there is\nnaturally more discomfort in travelling, and one's journey, both going\nand coming, may be considerably prolonged by the state of the rivers,\nspruits and dongas, not to mention the slippery state of the path down\nthe mountain sides. Of course, the only way (apart from \"Shanks's pony\")\nis to ride, taking a packhorse or two (according to the number of your\nparty), well laden with provisions, tents, and the necessary amount of\nclothing. The Malutsunyane Falls are 630 ft.; the Telle, I fancy, have\nonly once been \"sized up,\" and, if I remember rightly, were estimated to\nbe about 650 ft. in height. The Ketane is the smallest, but the most\nbeautiful of the three in its surroundings. The Basuto believe that in\nthe big pool at the foot of each falls lives a sacred reptile, somewhat\nresembling a snake, with a head like a sheep. It is the spirit of the\nwaters, and is always attended by a rainbow.\n\nThe largest river in Basutoland is the Sinkou, or Orange River, which\nrises in the Malutis and passes through the southern districts, forming\nthe border between Herschel and the Orange River Colony. There are few\nrivers more beautiful than the Sinkou, running as it does down deep\nravines, twisting in and out, now round this kopje, now round that,\nbroadening here to considerable proportions, flowing so calmly, so\nsilently as almost to resemble still water, and anon rushing and roaring\nthrough some deep, narrow defile, lashing itself in masses of white foam\nagainst the black rocks which jut up here and there, as if angry with\nthem for interrupting its erstwhile quiet flow. There are parts where\nthe water is of considerable depth, and one or two places (formerly the\nabodes of \"sea cows\") which are many fathoms deep. Fish are plentiful,\nand there are some delightful reaches on which to sail one's boat. There\nare many rivers in various parts of the country, some fair-sized, some\nmerely what in Scotland we would term \"a burn,\" but none so beautiful as\nthe Sinkou.\n\nBasutoland abound in deep kloofs, or ravines, the steep sides of which\nare often covered with short stunted bushes and huge boulders, and at\nthe bottom, in fine weather, warbles a tiny silver stream, which, after\na thunderstorm, or in the rainy season, is converted into a brown,\nmuddy torrent, carrying everything pell-mell before it.\n\nAt Butha-Buthe, in the North, there is a piece of swampy ground which,\nto the ordinary observer, merely looks like a good place for ducks and\nfrogs, yet, to the native inhabitants of the district, it is more or\nless sacred ground, as one spot there is inhabited by a spirit. Some\nyears ago, without any apparent reason, smoke was seen issuing from this\n\"Khapong,\" as it is called. No one had set it alight; no sign of human\ninterference could be found, nor did the ground consume away, yet, night\nand day, through rain and sunshine, for three whole months, this streak\nof smoke was seen to arise from the selfsame spot, with never even the\nsmallest tongue of flame to be seen; consequently it came to be regarded\nas a spot sacred to the Spirit of Maternity, and hither, from time to\ntime, come old and young with offerings of beadwork, money, food, dolls,\netc., hoping thus to propitiate the spirit within, and to receive a\nfavourable answer to their prayers.\n\nOnce, while we were stationed at Butha-Buthe, there was great excitement\namongst the people, for the streak of smoke was again seen slowly\nascending skywards. It was a pouring wet day, when one would have found\nit impossible to light a fire out of doors, yet the rain had apparently\nno effect on this mysterious fire.\n\nMy servants called me to look, and there, sure enough, it was--a thin\ngrey streak of smoke steadily mounting towards the clouds, but on this\noccasion it did not continue for more than a few hours, during which\ntime it was far too wet for me to venture down to investigate the spot.\nAfterwards I thoroughly searched the place, but, beyond seeing a small\nstrip of black, peat-like soil on the edge of a small sluit, and finding\nmoney, bangles, beads, and clay dolls laid underneath a projecting piece\nof the bank, I saw nothing. There was absolutely _no_ trace of a fire.\nSome of the dolls, very primitive in shape, had evidently been lying\nthere for years. There are several similar spots in various other parts\nof the country.\n\nThe climate of Basutoland is said to be the healthiest in South Africa.\nIt certainly is good. The air is delightfully rare and pure, and in most\nparts very bracing, and the whole country lies very high, no part of it\nbeing, I believe, lower than 4,000 ft, while many of the stations are\nbuilt at a height of from 5,000 ft. to 6,000 ft, the highest peak in the\nmountains reaching to a little over 10,000 ft. There are, however, great\nextremes of heat and cold, which must be somewhat trying to delicate\nconstitutions, and the high altitude is more or less to blame, I fancy,\nfor the numbers of nervous complaints amongst the European population.\n\nIn the summer, which lasts from November to March, there are frequent\ngales, the winds in early summer being nearly always hot and dry,\nscorching the skin, and making the housewife's life a burden to her, by\nreason of the dust which _will_ penetrate into every corner of her\nrooms. The heat is often very great, the thermometer rarely falling\nbelow 88\u00b0 F. in the shade in the day, and not infrequently rising to\n103\u00b0 F.; while in winter it is almost equally cold, the mountains being\noften white with snow, which falls also on the lowlands, though it\nrarely lies there for more than a few hours. The winds at these times\ngenerally elect to blow off the mountains, and are so piercingly cold\nthat it is extremely difficult to keep warm, but it is a most healthy\nand bracing cold. In spring and early summer the hailstorms do great\ndamage to the early crops, and the thunderstorms all through the hot\nweather are very severe, the lightning fatalities being by no means\ninfrequent.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nAPPEARANCE OF BASUTO--ALBINOS--NATIVE VILLAGES--HUTS--MANNER OF\nLIVING--DRESS--ORNAMENTS.\n\n\nThe Basuto are a fine, well-proportioned race, though as a rule the men\nare not so tall nor so well-built as the Zulus.\n\nThey are of a soft brown colour, with less protruding lips, and more\nregular features than the Colonial Kaffir, and with far pleasanter\nexpressions; graceful and upright, with considerable intelligence, and\nremarkably amiable. As a nation they are wonderfully honest and\ntrustworthy. They are far more \"tillers of the soil\" than men of battle,\npreferring to live at peace with their neighbours to treading the war\npath.\n\nThe women are good-natured and docile, slaves to their lord and master,\nacknowledging his complete power and superiority over them with perfect\ncontentment. They naturally possess a certain amount of vanity, and, to\ngratify it, will endure no small amount of pain in tattooing their\nfaces, but in this the men are not behindhand. As a rule, both sexes are\ndevoted to their children, who lead healthy, happy young lives, free\nfrom care, not cumbered with over-much clothing, and with few duties or\nrestraints.\n\nA strange feature of this race is the number of Albinos to be found in\nit, and, since the white man became a familiar object to the Basuto,\nthese poor hideous creatures are, by many of their more fortunate\nbrethren, looked upon as quite lovely specimens of humanity. I know one\npoliceman, who told me with great pride that he had married a white\nwife, who was very pretty. Would I not go to see her? I went, not quite\nunderstanding, for I had only been a short time in the country, and it\nwas with great difficulty that I was able to disguise my feeling of\nrepulsion. She was indeed hideous, poor creature, yet she quite gave\nherself the airs of a beauty, and smiled contentedly upon me, little\ndreaming of the feelings she was awakening. Since then I have seen a\ngood many more, but never have I been able to conquer my strong dislike\nto these most unnatural-looking beings. There is one grave fault about a\nMosuto, which is that he has no idea of truthfulness. To him it is no\ncrime to tell a lie--in fact, he finds it an absolutely necessary\nvirtue. It is at times quite ludicrous to hear the solemn and, to all\nseeming, most truthful account given you about some small episode by an\nopen-faced, honest-looking Mosuto, when all the time you are in a\nposition to know that there is hardly a word of truth in what he is\nsaying. I have tried to make them understand how wrong it is to tell\nsuch falsehoods, but, beyond a half shame-faced and wholly mischievous\nsmile, my words never seemed to have much effect.\n\nThe Basuto usually build their villages on the side of a mountain or\nkopje, selecting situations which offer many natural means of defence.\nTheir huts are generally circular, sod-wall buildings, with thatch\nroofs, and outside each hut, as a rule, is a sort of palisade of reeds\ncalled a \"skerm,\" in which all the cooking and frequently the eating\nalso takes place. When a man wanted to build a hut, in the days before\nthey adopted more civilized modes, and even now, in the more remote\nparts of the country, he took a stick, to which he fastened a strip of\nox-hide, stuck the other end of the strip firmly in the ground with\nanother peg, and, with the stick in his hand, drew a complete circle; on\nthis line he raised the walls of his dwelling; these are made of square\nsods, roughly dug off the surface of the ground and laid one on the top\nof the other until the required height is reached. The walls are then\nsmeared over, inside and out, with wet clay, which is the women's work.\nThe woodwork of the roof is then laid on. It consists of branches of\ntrees interlaced and fastened securely at the top with grass rope. On\nthis the reeds are thickly laid and stitched down to the woodwork by\nmore grass rope. The inner walls of the hut are often ornamented by\nrough scrollwork in different coloured clays. A small aperture serves\nas window, and over the entrance is hung a reed mat, made by lashing\ntogether with the sinews of cattle a number of dried reeds. The floors\nare of mud, beaten down till perfectly hard and fairly even. They are\nsmeared over afresh every week or ten days, in order to preserve them,\nand also as a matter of cleanliness, much as an English housewife scrubs\nher floors. In the more wealthy dwellings the floors are from time to\ntime smeared over with bullock's blood. This gives them a dark, slightly\npolished appearance, and makes them very much harder on the surface than\nthose of the poorer individuals, who have to content themselves with a\nmixture of clay and manure from the cattle kraals. The original\nfurniture of a native hut consisted of a mat, similar to the one hung\nover the entrance; a few skins, which answered the purpose of clothing\nby day and bedding by night; a few earthenware pots and wooden spurtles,\nor spoons, one or two horn spoons, often very prettily carved; and neat,\nstrong baskets of various shapes and sizes, but chiefly round, and\nsomewhat like an enlarged basin. The cooking was all done in the\nearthenware pots until European traders introduced iron pots and\nkettles.\n\nThe chief or headman lives in the centre circle of the village. All the\nhuts in the older villages are built in circles, one within another.\nThis was done as a means of guarding more securely the chief and his\nfamily. As a rule, the chief has one or two buildings for his own\nexclusive use, while his wives' huts are built either in a row or round\nhis own larger, more highly-finished dwellings. Each wife has a separate\nhut, which is her own little kingdom.\n\nFrequently the cattle kraal (a large enclosure) is found near the centre\nof the village, and near it is the large hut called the \"Khotla\" or\nCourt, where the chief daily sits to administer justice (according to\nhis interpretation of the word). There is always a large open space in\nfront of the Khotla, where the people gather to hear the cases and to\ndiscuss the various complaints or offences. The Basuto are wonderfully\ngiven to long-winded discussions and explanations, and one would think a\nchief needed the patience of many Jobs to listen, as he often has to do,\nfor hours at a time, to tedious and voluminous evidence from one man\nafter another about some paltry case which, in an European Court, would\nbe disposed of in a few moments.\n\nThe more civilized Basuto are rapidly learning to build square, stone\nhuts, more like European dwellings, as they have adopted European dress\nand European household utensils; but the old native dwellings and dress\nare, to my mind, infinitely more picturesque, and their native\nornaments, made of native metal, brass, iron, etc., infinitely more\ninteresting than the awful \"Brummagem\" atrocities sold to them by the\ntraders in the country.\n\nI was much struck, when first I entered Basutoland, with the great\nsuperiority of the Basuto villages to those of the colonial Kaffirs\nwhich I had seen in the Eastern Province, both as regards cleanliness,\nneatness and durability, and I was equally pleased with the Basuto\nthemselves, finding them both polite and obliging.\n\nIn the days before soap found its way into the country the people used\nto wash themselves with pieces of white clay, rubbing it all over\nthemselves much as one rubs soap, or if they did not wish to use the\nclay, they dug out a large bulb which they call \"Khapompo.\" It is the\nroot of a broad-leafed plant, somewhat like a pineapple plant in shape,\nand is very astringent. When first used it causes a rash to appear on\nthe surface of the skin, but after a few applications makes the skin\nsoft and smooth.\n\nIn the old days, and still amongst the wilder and less civilized Basuto,\nthe men's dress consisted of a kaross (letata), or blanket of skins,\nwhich they wore with the fur inside and fastened on to the shoulder by a\ncouple of soft straps made of skin, and sewn firmly to the kaross with\nox sinews, the only cotton they know of. Their only other article of\nclothing was a lamb skin strapped round their loins. The women wore\naprons of sheep skins, one skin being considered quite large enough,\nwhile behind they tied an ox hide, cut into the shape of a circular\ncloak. Above the waist they wore nothing, unless in very cold weather,\nwhen they also wrapped themselves up in karosses. The little boys were,\nand are, clad in nature's garb, pure and simple, until they attain the\nage of twelve, when they adopt men's costumes.\n\nThe little girls from babyhood wear what they call \"tetana,\" which is a\ndeep fringe made of a thin-leaved weed, called by them \"tseketlane.\"\nThis they tie round their waists. To make it they take a strip of skin,\ncured and softened, until it resembles chamois leather, cut this about\nan inch broad, and wide enough to go easily round the child's hips, then\ntake a large quantity of the weed, tear off the two outer parts, leaving\nonly the back bone, as it were, which is about as thick as moderately\nfine string. The women then roll this up and down on their well-greased\nand red-clayed thighs, until it turns from a silvery white to a reddish\nbrown. Bunches of these they sew to the strap all the way round. Their\nmanner of sewing is naturally primitive. They make small sharp probes of\nnative metal; with these they pierce holes in the strap, and, dividing\nthe fringe in half, they tighten it \"through the middle\" on to the strap\nby means of dried sinews, and let the top part of the fringe fall over\nthe lower part, thus making it of double thickness.\n\nThe kaross is made by sewing a number of skins together with sinew, the\nskins as a rule being of rock rabbit, or small deer, and occasionally of\nsilver jackal. The skins are first dried, then rubbed over with powdered\nsandstone till thoroughly clean and more pliable, then rubbed by hand,\nalways keeping the hands well greased, the greatest care being taken not\nto spoil the fur or rub holes. This rubbing is continued until the whole\nskin is thoroughly pliable and as soft as silk, by which time it is\nready to be sewn.\n\nThe original ornaments consisted of brass rings of various sizes, beaten\nout to considerable width, and worn by the women round their necks;\nbangles, roughly twisted, of brass, on the arms from the wrist almost up\nto the elbow, and larger ones round the ankle and just below the knee;\nand bangles made of soft iron about an inch and a half broad and roughly\ncarved by means of pieces of sharpened iron; also necklaces and bangles\nof the heads of a grass rather resembling Kaffir corn in miniature.\nThese they used to plait very artistically, drying some in the huts in\norder to preserve the green tint, and others outside in the sun so as\nbleach them. Ornaments for dances consisted of, in addition to those\nalready mentioned, skins specially \"scratched\" by their needles into\nartistic scrolls, circles, and crosses; anklets made of skin, into small\nbags partially filled with small smooth pebbles, and wetted and allowed\nto harden. These make a peculiar rustling rattle as the dancer moves.\nThe men also wear ox tails suspended from both elbows, both shoulders,\nand both knees, and a head-dress made either of quantities of feathers,\nand not unlike a busby, or one of the hair off many ox tails. They also\ncarry a shield made of hard stiff hide, and a long stick, straight and\nbeautifully polished, with a round knob at the top.\n\nMen and women alike smear their bodies, faces, and hands with a mixture\nof red clay and fat, but this is a general practice, and not only for\nf\u00eate days, even the tiny babies being polished in this way.\n\nFor a girl the correct dancing costume consisted of the fringe round the\nhips, the anklets of skin and pebbles, and a head-dress made of the\ncrest of the golden-crested crane and other crested birds. The married\nwomen simply don their best skins and hold a more or less fantastic\nstick in their hands.\n\nSince European traders have settled in the country the Basuto have\ntaught themselves to make wire and bead necklaces and bangles of really\nremarkable attractiveness, their bead work being most elaborate. To make\na bead necklace they will buy a quantity of different coloured beads,\nwhich they thread on fine sinews, not in single rows, but in broad\npatterns, sometimes two and three inches wide. Sometimes the colours are\nworked alternately, sometimes in squares, and sometimes diagonally.\nThese are fastened by the sinew in the form of a loop on one side, and a\nbunch of beads or a button on the other. The bangles are made of grass\nplaited into a circular strand, on to which they string the beads until\nthe grass foundation is completely hidden. They also embroider their\nskins with many coloured beads, and make a regular waistband of beads.\nThey make small brass buttons out of the soft native brass with which\nthey edge their \"dresses.\"\n\nThe wire bangles are made of copper wire, brass wire, and aluminium wire\nof various thickness (generally very fine). These wires are twisted\ntogether, or plaited in the same way in which they plait their grass.\nSome of them are remarkably pretty.\n\nThe brass neck ornaments are made out of the native metal, which is dug\nout and melted, and then poured into a hollow previously made in a large\nflat stone, and this forms it into a ring large enough to encircle a\nwoman's neck. Before the metal is cold it is polished with round smooth\nstones, while still soft it is cut through at one end, and gently forced\nopen until the woman is able to insert her neck. It is then firmly\npressed together and held there until cold and hard. These ornaments are\ncalled \"lepetu,\" and are extremely difficult to remove. I once asked a\nwoman if her \"lepetu\" ever hurt her, she seemed much amused and\nsurprised at my question, and laughingly replied, \"Certainly not.\" Their\nmanner of removing them is somewhat barbarous. The woman kneels down,\ntwo reims or straps are put through each side, and a steady pull begins,\na man holding each reim. As soon as the opening is large enough, the\nwoman squeezes her neck out, and rises free from her bonds.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nMANNER OF CULTIVATING THE SOIL--GRAIN--HARVEST-FOOD--MANNER OF EATING--\nRESOURCES OF THE COUNTRY--IMPORTS--STATUS OF WOMEN--CHILDREN--RELIGIOUS\nCUSTOMS--MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS--HEATHEN SCHOOLS--AMUSEMENTS.\n\n\nThe way in which the ground was cultivated prior to the introduction of\nspades and hoes, was not calculated to produce heavy crops, yet so rich\nis the soil that the grain sown came up splendidly, and provided neither\nlocusts nor drought visited the land, heavy crops were yielded. The\nimplements used were small iron hoes, which the Basuto made out of the\niron found in the country. After melting the iron, they hit it into flat\npieces about twice the size of a man's hand, and very much that shape.\nThe part corresponding to the human arm was forced, when hot, into the\nend of a long thick stick; the other end was sharpened on the hard flint\nstones brought for that purpose from the Malutis.\n\nWith these hoes the Basuto \"chopped up\" the ground, the seed having been\nscattered first of all on the undisturbed surface.\n\nWhen weeding-time came, the Basuto took short thick sticks, which they\nsharpened with their \"knives.\" The weeding is always done by the women.\nIn drought the women used to carry water in their earthenware pots to\nwater the \"lands,\" even the small children helping in this work.\n\nA \"knife\" was merely a flat strip of native iron about as broad as two\nfingers and sharpened round the edges.\n\nThe seeds used by the Basuto were millet, or \"Kaffir corn,\" maize, or\n\"mealies,\" and a species of sweet reed known as \"Intsu\u00e9,\" also pumpkins,\nand in times of famine they lived upon the seed of the long rank grass,\nwhich they call \"Moseka.\"\n\nWhen the crops were ripe the whole village went out to gather them. The\npumpkins were stored in empty huts, the ripe heads of the Kaffir corn\nwere cut off one by one, thrown into baskets and carried to a spot\noutside the cornfield which had already been prepared as a\nthrashing-floor, by removing all vegetation and smearing it over in the\nsame manner as the floor of a hut. When the thrashing-floor was well\ncovered with grain, the cattle were driven into it, and round and round,\nuntil the corn was all thrashed out. The cattle were then driven off,\nand the women separated the stalks or heads from the grain; then the\nbaskets were filled, and the grain allowed to fall gently into a clean\nbasket, thus getting rid of all dust and chaff, which was blown away by\nthe air. Mealies were picked off the stalk, thrown into baskets, and\nremoved to the village where the women stripped the mealies from the\ncobs by means of small sharp stones, with which they used to hit off the\nmealies, holding the cob in the left hand on a large flat stone. The\nharvesting is still done in very much the same manner, save that flails\nare now used to thrash with in most parts of the country.\n\nWhen the grain is dry it is stored in enormous bag-like baskets,\nsometimes 6 ft., and even more, in height. When full, these baskets are\nsecurely closed, and no one except the master of the house is allowed to\nopen them. These baskets are kept outside, near the owner's hut, and in\nwet weather are covered with skins.\n\nThere is considerable jealousy over the harvesting, it being thought\nthat the chief has shown great favouritism should one \"land\" yield a\nmuch better crop than another. To avoid unpleasantness, a man who sees\nhis crop is larger than his neighbour's will dig a hole in some\nunfrequented spot, into which he will put one of the grain baskets, and\nat night he and his family will carry their grain to this hiding-place,\ncarefully removing all traces likely to arouse the suspicions of any\nwanderer who might chance to pass by. When the time comes to visit this\nsecret store for the purpose of removing the grain for the household\nuse, the visits are paid only at night time, one member of the family\nremaining at home to see that the movements of the others are not\nobserved.\n\nThe chief food of the Basuto is a sort of porridge, made either of\nKaffir corn or mealies, and a species of bread made from the white\nmealie.\n\nThe grain is ground by the women into meal on large, flat, smooth\nstones, with small round stones like rollers. The women kneel in front\nof the large stone, which they raise into a slanting position, so that\nas they grind the meal will fall on the skin laid under the lower end of\nthe stone. They work the \"roller\" up and down the flat stone over the\ngrain with a steady rhythmical motion, accompanying the movement with a\nlow monotonous chant.\n\nThe \"Motoho,\" or porridge, is made by merely stirring the meal into\nboiling water over a fire, until it is as thick as a stiff paste. If\nsalt is procurable a little is added to the water before boiling. They\nalso make a sour \"Motoho,\" which is regarded as far more of a delicacy\nthan the ordinary porridge. This is made by mixing extremely coarse meal\nwith boiling water. Cover this mixture, and place on one side for a few\nmoments. Pour into this a quantity of luke-warm water, and add a little\n\"tomoso\" (yeast). Leave this to \"work\" until the next morning, then\nremove all the meal, squeezing it as dry as possible, and grind it very\nfinely; then put back into the same water, stir well, and strain and\ncook over a brisk fire, stirring it all the time for nearly an hour. It\nis then ready to eat.\n\nThe \"Bogobe,\" or bread, is made by pouring mealie meal into a pot of\nboiling water. Do not stir or break, and allow it to boil for about half\nan hour; then stir it and allow it to cook gently for about half an\nhour, then take it out and roll into large balls. Put a small quantity\nof water in the bottom of the pot; make a rest of small twigs to prevent\nthe bread falling into the water, and cook for a long time, probably\nabout an hour.\n\nSour bread, or \"Bogobe bo bolila,\" is made by taking coarse mealie meal,\nmixing it with cold water and a little yeast. Put this stiff dough out\ninto the sunshine to rise. When sufficiently risen it is rolled into\nflat, round loaves, and cooked in the same manner as the sweet \"Bogobe.\"\n\nPumpkins are put whole into a pot of boiling water and boiled until\nready.\n\nMeat is as a rule grilled on the red ash of the fire, and by no means\n_over_ done.\n\nThere are certain parts of an animal which the women are not allowed to\neat, such as the kidney, heart, head, feet, stomach, and liver. This\nlatter the women can eat raw if they like. Eggs are also forbidden.\n\nTheir drinks consist of \"juala,\" or strong beer, and \"leting,\" or mild\nbeer. These are both made from Kaffir corn. \"Juala\" is made by soaking\nthe Kaffir corn in water for twenty-four hours. It is then put into a\nbag made from a hide. This bag is buried in the ground, and a fire\nlighted above every morning and again in the evening for three or four\ndays, or until the corn begins to sprout. It is then spread out to dry,\nand when quite dry, it is ground very fine, put in a large pot, and a\nquantity of boiling water poured on it, with the addition of a little\nyeast. This is allowed to stand for a day and a night, and early next\nmorning it is boiled; it is then put into several pots to cool. At night\na quantity of fresh meal is stirred into each pot with enough luke-warm\nwater to make it the consistency of thin gruel, and a little fresh yeast\nis added. The next morning it is strained ready to drink. It is by this\ntime highly intoxicating.\n\n\"Leting\" is made from Kaffir corn in the same way as \"juala\" in the\nearly stages, but after grinding the sprouting-grain and pouring the\nboiling water upon it with a little yeast, it is only left for a few\nhours to ferment, when it is strained and ready for use. It is a cool,\nsub-acid drink, very refreshing on a hot day, and only intoxicating when\ntaken in enormous quantities, quite beyond the consumption of ordinary\nmortals.\n\nThe yeast, or \"tomoso,\" is made by grinding a small quantity of green\nmealies and pouring enough luke-warm water over it to make a thick\ngruel. This is covered up and allowed to stand for twelve hours. The\nsieve, or \"Motlotlo,\" is made of woven grass, about six in. in diameter\nat the mouth, and from a foot to a couple of feet long, narrowing to a\npoint at the bottom.\n\nThe Basuto have only two meals a day, one corresponding to our\nbreakfast, before the day's work begins; the other at sunset. The women\nprepare the food, while the men look after the cattle and superintend\nthe milking. The men eat by themselves first, the women and children\nwaiting until they have finished. The women carry the water, prepare the\n\"lisu,\" or fuel, and do all the household work before going to help in\nthe \"land.\" The \"lisu\" is made from the manure in the cattle, sheep, and\ngoat kraals. It is dug out and dried in the sun. When dry it somewhat\nresembles peat. It burns easily and gives out considerable heat, nothing\nbut a fine white ash remaining.\n\nThe resources of the country at present are chiefly agricultural, large\nquantities of mealies and Kaffir corn being exported annually by the\ntraders, also considerable quantities of wool, and during the outbreak\nof rinderpest numbers of hides passed into the traders' hands. The only\nmeans of transport is, of course, by waggon to the nearest railway\nstation in the Orange River Colony, or to Aliwal North.\n\nNear Mohali's Hoek a coalmine was opened some years ago, and very good\ncoal obtained, but the present chief of the district will not allow it\nto be worked any longer, and I believe the mine is now nearly full of\nwater. The country is certainly rich in minerals, and no doubt would\nyield large returns were it properly worked, but that is impossible\nunder the existing conditions. Nor would it be desirable to alter those\nconditions at present. It is purely a native territory, the only white\npeople allowed to settle in the country, not including the Government\nofficials and their families, being the missionaries and traders, and at\neach Government station one or two European artisans. No liquor is\nallowed into the country without a permit issued and signed by the\nAssistant Commissioner of the district, who uses his own discretion in\nthe matter. There are no canteens, consequently the number of inebriates\nis wonderfully small, and much of the degradation and misery of\ndrunkenness is unknown. Would it be wise, merely for the sake of gain,\nto change this state by throwing the country open to the outside world?\nA thousand times _No_.\n\nThe principal articles imported into the country are blankets, cheap\nprints, beads, saddlery, showy ornaments, ploughs, kettles, three-legged\npots, and tin dishes. There is also a great demand for sugar, salt, tea\nand coffee, and of course the wealthier Basuto indulge in such luxuries\nas sardines, jam, sweets, &c.\n\nEvery Mosuto rides, even if he has only a very short distance to go. To\nwalk must either show great poverty (a terrible disgrace in a country\nwhere no one need be really poor), or a great lack of self-respect. The\nponies they ride are hardy, sure-footed little animals, wonderfully\neasily broken in, and showing quite remarkable intelligence. As a rule\nthey are very good-tempered. To see them coming down the steep hillsides\nat a hard gallop, urged on by their reckless riders, who seem to have no\nfear, simply takes one's breath away at first, yet one never sees them\nstumble, much less fall, and they seem quite to enjoy it. Many of the\nBasuto now ride on saddles, but even thus they ride entirely by balance,\nand their idea of getting the pony to \"go\" is by kicking him vigorously\nin the sides.\n\nThe women of course ride \"astride,\" but are timid and ill at ease, only\nadopting this mode of travelling when the time is short and the way\nlong.\n\nThe boys begin at a very early age, learning first on goats and calves,\ngoing on to young oxen, and ending up with horses. An ox race is really\na most exciting spectacle, and many a tumble these fearless young riders\nget.\n\nThe oxen are trained to carry the bags of grain, which are balanced\nacross their backs. Their noses are pierced, and a rope or reim run\nthrough the hole and fastened together to act as reins. In this way the\nboys are able to control the animals.\n\nThey guide them by hitting the horns on the opposite side from the\ndirection in which they wish them to go. A Basutoland ox is seldom\ncross, and rarely kicks, very different from the vicious animals I saw\nin the Colony when I first came out. As a Mosuto's chief wealth lies in\nthe number of cattle he possesses, he naturally takes a great interest\nin them, and acts of cruelty towards them are rare.\n\nAlmost all the heathen males possess at least two or three wives, and\nthe families as a rule are large, most women having an average of from\nsix to eight children.\n\nThe women are merely servants, little (if any) better than slaves, with\nfew rights or privileges of their own, and utterly at the mercy of their\nhusbands, who beat or pet them as so disposed.\n\nEach wife has her own hut, her own \"land,\" and her own children to look\nafter, besides attending to the wants of her lord and master. The\nhusband does the sowing and ploughing, but the woman does the weeding,\nwatering, when necessary, and in fact, generally looks after her land,\nfor the success or failure of which she is alone responsible.\n\nThose who can afford to bribe with the offers of leting, jouala and\nother dainties, summon as many of their friends as desired to help in\nthe work of sowing and reaping. The chiefs call all the able-bodied\nyoung men and women of their \"Clan,\" and much work and not a little\nmerriment is crowded into the day, frequent refreshments being served\nout to the workers. This combining of forces is called a \"letsima,\" and\na very noisy affair it is. The men all come armed with hoes, and of\ncourse mounted on their active little ponies. A truly alarming sight\nthey are at a little distance to the stranger, until, on a nearer\napproach, he sees they are not armed with weapons of war, but with\nimplements of peace. Sometimes as many as eight or nine hundred may be\nseen in an afternoon, in more or less regular order, wending their way\nto the village of their chief, ready to begin work on the morrow.\n\nIn the morning they set out for the \"lands,\" singing as they go. When\nthey work, the men form in line and keep time with their hoes, or (if in\nautumn) their reaping hooks, to the chant they sing, while behind come\nthe women, adding their shrill trebles to the men's deeper notes. It is\nall very wild, but wonderfully picturesque, and so perfectly in keeping\nwith the surrounding scenery.\n\nOne cannot help envying the contentment and goodwill shown by all. Even\nthe children have their share of the fun and feasting.\n\nThe maternal instinct is very strong in the Basuto women, who devote\nthemselves to each baby as it comes, with perfect good temper and\nconstant care. As a rule baby number one attains to two or even three\nyears before the arrival of baby number two, and so on.\n\nNaturally, from a commercial point of view, the female children are much\npreferred to the male, for does not a daughter upon reaching womanhood\nrepresent a dowry of so many head of cattle to her father? while each\nson, should he live to manhood, means the loss of so many cherished\nbovine friends. But in childhood male and female children are all\ntreated alike, all receive their due amount of affection and are equally\ndear to their parents' hearts, except in instances where the baby\nhappens to be born after the death of the former baby. It is a terrible\nbreach of etiquette to welcome this poor little stranger, besides being\nan insult to the departed infant, whose spirit would naturally resent\nanything which might indicate that the new-comer had consoled the\nparents for their loss.\n\nNo, the new arrival must be treated as an unwelcome intruder. All signs\nof affection (before others) must be suppressed.\n\nIt is called \"Mose la'ntja,\" which means \"the dog's tail,\" a term of the\ngreatest contempt. No festivities greet its birth; no fat is smeared on\nits poor little body, nor is it correct for the friends and neighbours\nto interest themselves about it. To add to this, the parents pretend to\nbe angry with the little intruder for coming to fill the dead child's\nplace.\n\nAnything is good enough for \"Mose la'ntja,\" all the old clothes fall to\nhis or her share; if he or she is dirty and unkempt, so much the better.\nThe more uncared-for their appearance the better their parents and\nrelatives are pleased. It is the correct thing, quite a matter of\netiquette, and these poor mites accept it all with perfect resignation,\nnor does it in any way affect their health or spirits.\n\nThis semi-persecution continues until \"Mose la'ntja\" has reached \"years\nof discretion\"--that is to say, after he or she has passed through the\nheathen \"schools,\" when he becomes exempt from all restrictions.\n\nAs a rule all Basuto babies have their heads shaved when about two days\nold, with the exception of \"Mose la'ntja,\" who is not allowed this\nprivilege unless by the \"family doctor's\" orders.\n\nIn the old days the Basuto never in any way recognised Sunday, or had\nany regular religious observances; one day was just the same as another\nto them, except that it happened to be the first, second or third day of\nthat particular \"moon.\" They had no week-days such as we have, their\nmanner of counting being simply the days of the lunar month; but like\nus they observed four seasons of the year, answering to ours, namely\nSpring--Selemo (or delving time); Summer--Letlabula (or \"It is opening,\"\nmeaning vegetable life); Autumn--Hogobajua (or the fading or changing\ntime); and Winter--Marea (or the time of heaviness).\n\nEach calendar month has been given a suitable name, as follows:--\n\nJanuary, Pherekhong (to increase, to swell).\n\nFebruary, Thlakhola (to mature, because the grain is nearly ripe).\n\nMarch, Thlakhobeli (maturity or harvest time).\n\nApril, Mbesa (the burning, because fires are now lighted in the lands to\nscare away the birds, it being no longer considered necessary to employ\nboys to keep away the winged thieves).\n\nMay, Motsey-anong (to complete, to become mature).\n\nJune, Phupo (to heap up, to store).\n\nJuly, Phup'chane (to thrash).\n\nAugust, Phato (to break up, to delve).\n\nSeptember, Loets\u00e9 (to water the land, _i.e._, rain time).\n\nOctober, 'Mpalane (the coming of storms).\n\nNovember, Phulunguana (the seed is coming).\n\nDecember, Tsitue (the name of the small beetle which during that month\ndisturbs the whole of South Africa with its clamour).\n\nThese are as nearly correct as I can get them, but the people seem\nstrangely vague about such things as dates, times, and seasons.\n\nVery few of them can tell you their age, or even the ages of their\nchildren. They count from certain national events which have made deep\nimpressions upon their minds, such as the \"Gun War,\" the great plague of\nlocusts, the death of a certain chief, &c., &c.\n\nTheir mode of counting is quaint. They use the fingers of each hand,\nbeginning with the little finger of the left hand, which is held in an\nupright position, the back of the hand facing the person counting, the\npalm turned outwards. Thus, when they wish to signify one, they raise\none finger; for two, they raise two fingers, and so on, keeping the\nother fingers down on the palm.\n\nTranslated literally their numerals are:--\n\n\n     1 'Ngue.\n\n     2 Peli (pronounced pedi), two.\n\n     3 Tharo, three.\n\n     4 'N\u00e9 (pronounced iu-n\u00e9), four.\n\n     5 Thlano, five.\n\n     6 Tselela (crossing, meaning the act of crossing from one hand to\n     the other).\n\n     7 Supile (pointing, because the first finger of the right hand,\n     which is generally used for pointing at objects, is raised).\n\n     8 Robile Monuana 'mbeli (two broken fingers, because only two\n     fingers remain down).\n\n     9 Robile Monuana u le Mong (one broken finger, only one\n     remaining down).\n\n     10 Leshume (the whole).\n\n     11 Leshume le metso u le Mong (the whole and one root); and so on\n     up to twenty, which is--\n\n     20 Mashom\u00e9 a Mabeli (two tens or wholes).\n\n     30 being Mashom\u00e9 a Meraro (three tens); and so on up to one\n     hundred, which is--\n\n     100 Le kholo (the big thing).\n\n     1000 Seket\u00e9.\n\n\nThe hours of the day were naturally quite unknown to them, the sun, moon\nand stars, light and darkness, being their only guides; for instance,\nsunrise, midday, afternoon sunset, and night time being the terms used\nto represent the various periods into which their day was divided.\n\nThey possess few customs which might be strictly termed religious, most\nof their beliefs being superstitions connected with the spirits of their\nforefathers, to whom they pray in times of trouble, and of whom they\nstand in great awe, offering sacrifices from time to time, with the view\nof assuaging their wrath; but acts of praise or actual devotion were\nunknown until the introduction of Christianity.\n\nThey have a few musical instruments, all very similar in appearance at\nfirst sight, but each varying a good deal with regard to the sounds\nproduced. The simplest is the \"Setolotolo,\" which is made by boring a\nhole in each end of a thick stick, into which are fixed two small pieces\nof cane, a piece about three inches long at the top, and one nearly\ndouble that length at the bottom. These are bent over and drawn towards\neach other by a thin wire or the twisted hairs from a horse's tail. The\nmouth of the musician is laid to the stick near the top, his left hand\nholds it near the bottom, while with the first finger and thumb of his\nright hand he touches the string at various distances from each end, at\nthe same time making a peculiar little note in his own throat. The whole\nperformance is weird and doleful in the extreme.\n\nThe \"Seho,\" the \"Lesiba,\" and in fact all the other musical instruments\nproduce sounds the reverse of lively, but they are by no means harsh or\nunpleasing to the ear, and, heard in their native element, with the wild\nand picturesque surroundings of a Basuto village, or when played by the\nherds, leading (for cattle are never driven) the cattle to or from\npasture, they certainly impress one favourably. The drum, on the other\nhand, is a thing to be shunned. It is made of bladder stretched over an\nearthenware pot which has had the bottom knocked out, to render the\nsound more hollow. It is placed on two stones and played, not with two\nsmall (or one large) drum sticks as in civilized countries, but with the\nhands. A booming, melancholy howl, like a creature in torment, is the\nresult at a distance. These drums are only used in the spring-time, when\nthe girls are being called to the native \"schools,\" and on the feast day\nwhich terminates the \"school\" for that year, usually a period of from\nfour to six months, according to the amount of food and the number of\ngirls in each \"school.\" In November every year, night after night, the\nstillness is broken by these hideous drums. The girls' schools are\nconducted by old hags, who are supposed to be learned in all witchcraft,\nand to possess the \"evil eye.\" These women profess to teach the girls to\ngrind, weed, smear, cook, and, in fact, all household duties, in\naddition to many other instructions in \"medicines,\" folk-lore, and some\nvery barbarous practices, of which it is impossible to write.\n\nA fortnight after the girls join the old women, they (the girls) smear\nthemselves from head to foot with white clay, and wear a screen of small\nreeds in front of their faces. This has to be continued until their\neducation is completed. During the whole period they never return home,\nbut spend their time in the \"lands\" and kloofs. They sleep during the\nday and remain awake all night. When they walk they carry long\n\"doctored\" sticks, which have the power of killing any outsider who\ndares to touch them. Many acts of cruelty and revenge are practised by\nthese revolting old women under the guise of teaching the girls to be\nbrave, or in some cases to be in their turn \"wise women.\" Frequently a\ngirl never returns to her home again. No questions dare be asked for\nfear of the \"evil eye,\" but it is a recognised fact that she has been\nmurdered, either because the wise woman has a spite against one or other\nof her parents, or against the girl herself; though, were such a thing\neven hinted at, dire would be the result. To the girls in the school it\nis stated that Molimo, or God, has said So-and-so must be sacrificed for\nthe good of the others, or to make them brave or wise, or to save them\nor their families from destruction.\n\nWhen the four or six months are over, a big feast is prepared in the\nvillage nearest the \"school,\" to which both sexes come. Merry-making,\neating and drinking continue for twenty-four hours. The girls then\nreturn home--\"women\"--with all the duties and privileges of womanhood.\nFor a month they have to behave with great reserve to all around them,\nleaving home early in the morning and remaining away until dark. This\ncloses that epoch in their lives.\n\nThe boys from sixteen years and upwards assemble at the villages also\nin November, and are taken off to school by the old witch doctors, who\ntrain them in all acts of cruelty and bravery. Some of the acts\ncommitted by them are too horrible to bear repeating. They begin by\ntorturing and killing animals, and then do the same thing to human\nbeings. They are also instructed in the use of herbs and various\nmedicines, and also in the methods of warfare adopted by the Basuto, as\nwell as a considerable knowledge of natural history.\n\nOf course, both the Government and the missionaries keep a strong check\nupon these schools and all barbarous customs, and the country is in a\nvery much more enlightened state than it was even when I first came to\nit. The people are not naturally cruel, and are quick to see how\nEnglishmen look upon acts of brutality. They also know that certain\npunishment awaits the perpetrators should they be discovered.\n\nThe Basuto women indulge in no amusements beyond the dance, singing, and\ngossip. The men play a game called \"Morabaraba,\" a species of\ndraughts played with white and black stones on a large flat stone cut\ninto squares like a chessboard.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nCHIEF WARS--MOROSI--DEATH OF MOLAPO--INFLUENCE OF THE\nMISSIONARIES--COLONEL GRIFFETH--GENERAL GORDON--1843 TO PRESENT\nTIME--GOVERNMENT HUT TAX--MISSION SOCIETIES.\n\n\nThe chief wars, apart from tribal disturbances, in which the Basuto have\nbeen engaged, are the Basuto-Dutch War, 1863-1868; the Morosi Campaign\nin 1879; and the Gun War in 1880-1881.\n\nThe Basuto-Dutch War of 1863 to 1868 was caused by the long-continued\nplundering of the Basuto all along the border. At that time Mosheshue\nwas growing old, his people were half-starving savages, with large bands\nof cannibals among them.\n\nThe Orange Free State was rich in grain and in flocks and herds; the\nMosuto is always at heart a cattle thief; he knows no temptation so\ngreat as that of \"cattle lifting.\" No wonder, then, that, with the added\nforce of starvation and their hatred of the Boers, the Basuto took to\nplundering those homesteads near the border.\n\nIn addition to this, the young \"braves\" thought they were too strong\neven for the English power to subdue--the result of the retreat of Sir\nGeorge Cathcart in 1852, which they looked upon as a sign of weakness\non our part, and they received no check from Mosheshue, who seems to\nhave allowed his people a free hand. Undoubtedly they had great cause to\nhate the Boers for the many wrongs received from them, and to this day\nthere is no love lost between Boer and Basuto. But we will enter into\nthis subject later on.\n\nThe eventual result of these devastations was war, which raged for five\nyears between the two nations. At first the Basuto were everywhere\nvictorious; hunger was no longer known in their midst, and they became\nboastful, vain-glorious, and altogether over-confident. Then came the\nBoers' turn. Their commandos entered the Lesuto, which they conquered\nbit by bit, until the whole country of the northern part, from what is\nnow called Winburg to Thaba Bosigo, was in their hands. This strong\nfortress had resisted all attempts to conquer it; but the Basuto were\nthoroughly frightened, and Mosheshue, dreading to fall into the hands of\nthe Dutch, earnestly entreated the Governor of Cape Colony (Sir Philip\nWodehouse) to protect them. Accordingly, the Lesuto was proclaimed\nBritish territory under the Colonial Government, and the Dutch were\nrequested to return to the Free State. Soon afterwards the Governor went\nto Thaba Bosigo, when he laid down, with President Brand, the boundary\nof what is now the Lesuto, and which deprived the Basuto of that fertile\ntract of country, west of the Caledon River, which has since been called\nthe conquered territory. Colonel Griffeth was appointed Commissioner,\nand the country became subject to British rule in 1869.\n\nIn 1879, Dodo Morosi's son, who had been imprisoned in Quthing prior to\nhis removal to the Colony, escaped from prison, and joined Morosi on his\nfamous mountain near Quthing. These two chiefs had always been rebels at\nheart, and only needed a little encouragement to become so openly. At\nthat time Cetewayo was doing his utmost to stir up the Basuto, urging\nthem to join him against the British Government. The Basuto have always\nlooked upon the Zulu chief as, in a way, their head, to whom they owed a\ncertain amount of obedience, and to whom they paid tribute of karosses,\nostrich feathers, etc. Consequently, when the disaster of Isandhlala\nbecame known in the Lesuto, the people became almost ungovernable with\nexcitement. Colonel Griffeth formed a camp at Pathlahla Drift, where he\nwas joined by several of his staff, and by 400 Colonial troops,\naugmented by 1,200 loyal Basuto. Mr. Barkly, the magistrate of Mohali's\nHoek, was appointed Staff Officer to Colonel Griffeth during the siege\nof Morosi Mountain, while Colonel (now General) Brabant, with 150 men,\nwas sent up early in April to aid the besiegers.\n\nMorosi was a Baputi Chief under the rule of the Paramount Chief. At this\ntime he was an old man, almost completely under the influence of his son\nDodo, a crafty, rebellious, and cruel man, who had been imprisoned and\nheavily fined by Mr. Austin, magistrate of Quthing, but had, as I have\nalready stated, made his escape. Morosi now openly rebelled, whereupon\nthe Colonial Government, through Colonel Griffeth, ordered the Basuto to\nenforce obedience. Thus, in April, the attack began, but many of the\nBasuto, though not themselves in open rebellion, refused to take up arms\nagainst their \"brother.\" Consequently, there was not a sufficiently\nstrong attacking force, and the first attempt was a complete failure,\nresulting in a loss of about fifty killed and wounded on our side. The\nmountain is very steep, and the whole face was protected by schanzes, or\nstone walls; stones also were hurled by the besieged upon their foes as\nthey endeavoured to scale the mountain. Our force had a couple of field\nguns, which were of considerable service. The attack lasted from 5 A.M.\ntill 8 P.M., during which time the besiegers were entirely without food.\nI am indebted to one who was a member of the C.M.R. present at the siege\nfor the above information. The \"Colonies and India,\" of June 1879,\nsays:--\"After the failure of the attempt to storm the enemy's position,\nand while awaiting the arrival of heavier cannon, the investment of the\nmountain still continued, pickets being posted day and night round three\nsides of it, the fourth being a perpendicular krantz of many feet in\nheight.\n\n\"Notwithstanding all the vigilance and precautions taken, one of the\npickets, consisting of a troop of the 3rd Yeomanry, were surprised on\nthe night of the 29th instant. About two hundred of the enemy rushed\ninto their camp, overpowering the sentries and assegaing some of the men\nin their tents. The Yeomanry, after six hours' fighting, beat them off,\nbut not without sustaining a loss of six killed and fifteen wounded.\n\n\"There is but one path leading to the summit of the mountain, which is\nfortified by strongly-built stone walls, arranged with great skill, so\nthat the lower ones are commanded and can be enfiladed by those above\nthem. They are pierced by double rows of loopholes, and, in most cases,\nare situated on the verge of steep rocks, which render them almost\ninaccessible from below. The mountain was crowded with every kind of\nstock, and defended by several hundred Baphuti rebels under Morosi.\"\n\nThe siege dragged on until November of the same year (every effort to\nstorm the mountain failing), when the enemy were starved into a\nsurrender. Morosi and two of his sons were killed, and the others\nsurrendered as soon as the C.M.R., who were the first to scale the\nladders, had entered the stronghold with fixed bayonets, with which they\nattacked the starving garrison. Dodo, however, unfortunately escaped,\nbut the greater number of the enemy were killed.\n\nIn September, previous to this event, Sir Gordon Sprigg (the then\nPremier of the Cape Colony) visited the Lesuto in connection with the\nDisarmament Act, which had just been passed by the Colonial Government,\nand a great Pitso was held at Maseru on the 16th of October (1879) to\ninform the Basuto that the Act was to be extended to the Lesuto. It was\na most unfortunate time to select for the enforcement of such a law. The\nBasuto love their guns, and no amount of compensation would repay them\nfor the loss of their firearms. In addition, the whole nation was\nunsettled, first by the Zulu Campaign, and afterwards by the fighting at\nMorosi's Mountain. They only needed tangible excuse to break out into\nopen rebellion. That excuse the Government placed before them when it\ninsisted upon the disarming of the whole nation. Chiefs and people alike\nwere furious, and, though no immediate steps were taken by the\nGovernment, the whole country seemed on the brink of a volcano.\n\nEarly in 1880 a commission was appointed for each district, consisting\nof the magistrate, the principal chief of the district and the most\ninfluential trader. A fair and just value was to be given to each man\nupon delivering up his weapon or weapons. The Colonial Government\ncompletely ignored the fact that it was to blame in the first instance\nfor the number of guns in the country, and that it had employed the\nBasuto to fight for it; in fact, was actually doing so at the time when\nthe Act was passed, when it employed Basuto to aid in the siege of\nMorosi's Mountain. A deputation of chiefs was sent to Cape Town, but\ntheir petition was refused. Even the majority of the missionaries\nregarded the policy of the Colonial Government as an act of unnecessary\noppression, and many of them did not hesitate to say so openly.\n\nOn the 28th of June the wise old chief Molapo died in the north of\nBasutoland, and his death no doubt hastened matters, for, had he lived,\nhe would have used all his influence, which was considerable, on the\nside of the Government. His sons Joel and Jonathan succeeded him, but\nJoel was always strongly against the Government, and Jonathan was a\nyoung man without much power over the other chiefs. The French\nProtestant missionaries, though earnestly exhorting the people to\nrefrain from bloodshed, were known by the Basuto to sympathise with\nthem; consequently, their persons, homes, and mission stations were\nuntouched during the rebellion which followed. The Roman Catholic\nMissions, which also belonged to the French, likewise remained\nunmolested, but the English missionaries and their stations fared badly\nindeed. The one at Mohale's Hoek was utterly destroyed. At Sekubu in the\nnorth everything perishable was burnt, the stone buildings alone\nremaining standing, and the mission buildings at Thlotse fared hardly\nbetter, the church to this day (though no longer used as such, having\nbeen replaced by a much larger building) bearing many marks of the\nconflict. The Government fixed upon the 12th of July as the day for the\nfinal disarmament of the people. Many loyalists sent in their arms, a\ncourse of action which resulted in many real hardships for them, and to\nthis day the greater number have never received more than two-thirds (if\nthat) of the compensation owed them by the Government, though many\nrebels received full compensation. Chief Jonathan remained loyal\nthroughout, and, by his firmness, kept together a large following, who\nwere of the greatest possible assistance to Major Bell, the magistrate\nof Leribe.\n\nCanon Widdicombe gives a most interesting and graphic account of the\nfighting in the north in his book, \"Fourteen Years in Basutoland.\" The\nactual fighting began on the 19th of July near the centre of the\nLesuto, and soon rebellion became general throughout the country. In\nSeptember a few hundred C.M. Rifles were sent up to Southern Basutoland\nby the Colonial Government, but nothing was done for the North. Mafeteng\nin the south was first attacked on the 13th September; Lerotholi, with a\nfollowing of over 8,000 men, all mounted, opening the proceedings by a\nvigorous attack upon the station. Fortunately the rebels were repulsed\nwith great loss. On October 4th the trading station of Lipering,\nbelonging to the Messrs. Fraser, was attacked and destroyed; Maseru and\nMohale's Hoek were attacked about the same time.\n\nOn the 19th October General Clarke, Commander-in-Chief of the Colonial\nforces, succeeded in reaching and relieving Mafeteng, but with heavy\nloss, the 1st Yeomanry alone losing 32 killed and 11 wounded. The former\nlie buried in the little cemetery at Mafeteng, where a monument has been\nerected to their memory. On November 8th the first attack was made upon\nThlotse in the north. It was sudden and very well planned, but\nnevertheless it failed. Five thousand \"braves\" under Chief Joel made the\nattack at daybreak, but most fortunately heavy rain had fallen, causing\nthe Thlotse River to become impassable, and thus preventing Ramanella\nand his contingent from joining in the attack. The defending force was\nonly 140 strong. As soon as the river became fordable, Jonathan crossed\ninto Thlotse with nearly 2,000 loyal followers. What that poor little\ngarrison suffered can be but little imagined. Many acts of revolting\ncruelty were perpetrated by the rebels; Jonathan's village was burnt to\nthe ground, and all his flocks and herds carried off, while he and his\nsmall following took refuge in Thlotse, the whole country from there to\nMaseru being by this time in the hands of the rebels. A force of nearly\n300 of the Kimberley Horse, under Major Lawrance, was sent from Maseru\nto the aid of the Thlotse garrison, and most effectively they fulfilled\ntheir mission, driving off an enemy ten times their own size right\nacross the Thlotse River, almost into the mountains. This state of\naffairs continued all through the country until the 17th of April, 1881,\nwhen an armistice was made, followed by a treaty of peace, for the\nunusually hard winter had at length proved the \"last straw\" to the\nrebels, who, worn out with fighting and hardships, eventually realized\nthe futility of attempting to overcome the \"White Man.\" Unfortunately,\nthe Colonial Government, in its anxiety to bring the war to an end, was\nready for peace at any price. A little firmness for a month or two\nlonger, and the Basuto would have been completely conquered. They were\nin real distress for food, and were unfit to stand the hardships of the\nwinter months of June and July; but the Government apparently did not\nsee the matter in this light, and on April 29th the new Governor, Sir\nHercules Robinson, issued a proclamation which promised a fair indemnity\nfor their loss to the loyal Basuto, and was by no means severe upon the\nrebels; but the promises were never properly fulfilled, and to this day\nthere is many a sore heart and shaken faith in the word of the English\nto be found in Basutoland.\n\nColonel Griffeth pointed out the unwisdom of such conduct, but he was\ngranted a year's leave of absence, after which he was pensioned. It\nwould be a moral lesson to many were they to hear a Mosuto's opinion of\nthis act, though it is extremely galling to realise how British prestige\nsuffered for many months, morally and physically, and the marks of her\ndegradation will remain for ever. Oh! how can people wish to bring\ncivilization into a country, when it brings such suffering in its train!\n\nIn April, 1881, General Gordon had offered his services to the Colonial\nGovernment, but it was not until September, 1882, that they availed\nthemselves of his offer. He then proceeded to Basutoland, where at any\nrate he won the admiration and affection of all those Basuto who came in\ncontact with him. His stay in the country was short. Let my reader refer\nto Sir W. Butler's Life of Gordon for the reason. Again the Government\nhad thrown away the chance of permanent settlement.\n\nIn 1883 came the war between Joel and Jonathan, the two great chiefs of\nthe North, which resulted in the overthrow of Joel, who with his\nfollowers fled to the Free State. Captain Blyth, C.M.G., was at that\ntime \"Governor's Agent\" of Basutoland; but as he had only moral force\nwith which to govern the people, what could he do except report to Cape\nTown all that had occurred? At length, in November, 1883, Basutoland was\ntaken over by the Imperial Government, and early in 1884, Sir Marshall\nClarke (Lt.-Col., R.A.) was sent as Resident Commissioner of Basutoland,\nunder the control of the High Commissioner.\n\nFrom this time a more hopeful state of things ensued, though even to the\npresent time there are not infrequent inter-tribal wars, squabbles, and\njealousies to \"keep the country from going to sleep.\"\n\nBasutoland is a native territory under Imperial Government. In 1868, the\ncountry was annexed to the British Empire, though in December, 1843\nMosheshue signed a treaty with England, in which the boundaries of his\ncountry were defined as the Orange River, from its source to its\njunction with the Caledon, and a line about thirty miles northeast of\nthe Caledon, from Bethulie to Sikonyela's country. This did not at all\nmeet with the approval of Mosheshue, and quietly he extended his sway,\nwhile the British authorities were engaged in settling matters with Adam\nKok, the emigrant farmers, and various others. From 1847 to 1851 there\nwere constant \"strained relations\" between Mosheshue and the British\nGovernment, ending in an alliance between him and the emigrant farmers.\nEngland was then not in a position to enforce obedience from Mosheshue,\nand his affairs were allowed to drift until such time as force could be\nbrought to bear to ensure his subjugation.\n\nIn the end of 1852, General Cathcart, with a force of 2,000 Infantry,\n500 Cavalry, and two field guns, marched upon Basutoland, and sent a\nmessage to Mosheshue asking him how he intended to behave, and demanding\nthe delivery of 10,000 head of cattle and 1,000 horses within a week.\nMosheshue endeavoured to comply with this demand, but the Basuto love\ntheir cattle, and could not be induced to part with more than 4,000\nhead. They were also anxious to try their strength against the English,\nand would not listen to their chief when he endeavoured to show them how\nfutile would be their efforts. The result was that on the 20th December,\nthe British forces advanced to attack, and it was upon that day that the\nawful ride of a small body of Lancers down an almost precipitous ravine\ntook place. It happened thus. The cavalry were ordered to march to the\nnorth of Berea Mountain, but seeing a great number of cattle apparently\nunguarded on the top of the hill, they tried to secure them. Suddenly a\nstrong force under Molapo advanced, scattering cattle and foes in all\ndirections. Had it not been for the bravery of Colonel Napier, our loss\nwould have been very severe; but he, with the small party round him,\nattacked the Basuto, thus giving many of our men a chance to escape. One\nsmall body of Lancers mistook an almost precipitous ravine for the\nbridle-path, and charged down it at a gallop; those who were not killed\nin the descent rushing headlong into the midst of an armed force of\nBasuto at the bottom. To this day the spot is called \"Lancers' Gap,\" and\nmany Basuto tales are told of that ride to death of the brave\n\"Ma-Soldier\" of the Great White Queen, or \"Mofumahali\" as they call her.\nThe Basuto fought well, and showed considerable bravery. They were\nnearly all armed with guns or rifles, in addition to their native\nweapons; but the coolness and bravery of our small force against such\nvast numbers alarmed them, and Mosheshue pointed out that they could not\nhope to overcome the strong reinforcements which would follow. After a\nhurried counsel the Basuto fled during the night to the most\ninaccessible mountains; and thus, after two days' hard fighting, ended\nthe advance of the British troops.\n\nMosheshue wrote a most diplomatic letter to General Cathcart, on the\nadvice of the French Missionary M. Casalis, saying he had seen the power\nof the English; he had been corrected; he now desired peace, and would\nnever again become an enemy to the Queen. The General accepted the\napology, and retired across the Caledon.\n\nInto the advisability, or otherwise, of this step I prefer not to enter.\nTheal, in his \"History of the Boers in South Africa,\" enters fully into\nthe subject, and gives a very good account of the after effects of\nGeneral Cathcart's step, as also the General's reasons for taking it.\n\nBasutoland was taken over by the Colonial Government in 1870, the \"Gun\nWar\" following in 1871, in consequence of the Colonial Government\nendeavouring to enforce the Disarmament Act. After the conclusion of the\nsecond \"Gun War\" (1880-1882), Basutoland reverted to Imperial rule. It\nis directly under the control of the Resident Commissioner, who lives at\nMaseru, and has under him seven Assistant Commissioners, one in each\ndistrict, a Government Secretary at headquarters, and a dozen\nSub-Inspectors in charge of the different detachments of native police,\nstationed in each district. Each detachment has also one or two\nEuropean constables, according to the number of police and the size of\nthe district.\n\nThe Resident Commissioner has a difficult position to fill. He is\nresponsible to the High Commissioner on the one hand, and has to win the\nconfidence and favour, not only of the Paramount Chief, but of the whole\nnation on the other, and to maintain the prestige of British supremacy\nwithout going too closely into purely native matters. The chiefs have\nconsiderable power up to a certain point, but are answerable to the\nParamount Chief first, and through him to the Resident Commissioner, for\nthe exercise of that power. They hold courts for the settlement of all\nnative matters, save those of grave importance, which are dealt with by\nthe Assistant Commissioners. Natives are always allowed to appeal to the\nAssistant Commissioner of their district against the decision of their\nown court or \"Khotla,\" but no appeal is possible to even the Paramount\nChief against the decision of the Government. In murder cases, and\nothers of equally grave importance, two Assistant Commissioners must\n\"sit in judgment.\" All sentences are referred to the Resident\nCommissioner for confirmation. All \"liquor\" cases are brought to the\nAssistant Commissioner of the district. The police patrol the country,\nand bring in cases for trial, and report any suspicious events. There\nare post offices at all the Government stations, under the supervision\nof the Assistant Commissioners, and most of the stations are now\npossessed of telegraphic communication. There is also a medical service,\nconsisting of the Principal Medical Officer, resident at Maseru, and a\nMedical Officer at most of the stations, with a staff of native\ndispensers. Medical attendance is free to all officials and their\nfamilies, and to the police; and also to the whole nation between the\nhours of ten to twelve daily, at the dispensary, a nominal fee of\nsixpence being charged by the Government to cover the cost of the\nmedicine received.\n\nThe revenue is considerable, and is chiefly derived from the hut tax.\nThis is a tax levied on each wife in reality, though it is nominally on\nthe hut. It used to be 10s. for each hut, but has now been raised to \u00a31\neach. A man having two wives pays \u00a32, though he may have three or more\nhuts, and so on.\n\nThe expenditure consists of the salaries of all Government officials,\nincluding natives, cost of maintaining the roads, educational grants,\nand building and repairing of Government buildings, with various other\nminor expenses connected with the administration, pensions, &c. The work\nof education is a heavy item, there being over 100 schools. The\nMissionary Societies are the Paris Evangelical, the Anglican and the\nRoman Catholic. I have placed them in the order in which they stand.\nThe French missionaries were the first to visit Basutoland, and are a\nbig majority. They have done much for the Basuto, apart from religious\ninstruction and example, for in the early days of their arrival they\ntaught the people the use of many cereals and plants, of which, till\nthen, they were ignorant, and also how to build, to plough, and reap,\nand the European methods of irrigation, as well as introducing into the\ncountry various domestic animals, such as the pig, the cat, and a dog,\nsuperior to the miserable specimens already to be found in the villages.\nFowls, turkeys, ducks, and geese were also first introduced by the\nmissionaries.\n\nThere are now several industrial schools in different parts of the\ncountry, in which the boys are taught masonry, carpentry, blacksmith's\nand painter's trades, besides the three \"R's.\" Many of these boys show\nconsiderable ability, and are painstaking and neat in their work, taking\na real pride in it.\n\nAt Morija, the largest mission station in Basutoland, as well as the\nfirst, it having been founded by MM. Casalis, Arbousset, and Gossellin\nin 1833, not only are there four missionaries employed, but quite a\nlarge number of assistant teachers and instructors of various branches\nof education. There is the Bible School, which trains natives for\nmissionary work; the Normal School for teachers; a printing and\npublishing establishment, where Sesuto books, pamphlets, and a monthly\nnewspaper are published, and in which all the work is done by natives,\nunder European supervision. Then there is the Mission School, in which\nthe children are taught. Twice Morija was nearly destroyed, in the Boer\ninvasions in 1858, and again in 1865, but nevertheless it is now a\nflourishing station, nestling in a hollow at the foot of the mountains.\nHere also are to be found on some of the rocks the footprints of an\nenormous lizard, and traces of the haunts of lions and other beasts of\nprey.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHABA BOSIGO--CANNIBALS--THEIR MANNER OF CAPTURING AND DESTROYING THEIR\nVICTIMS--SUPERSTITIONS--LAND TENURE.\n\n\nNear Morija rises _the_ mountain of Basutoland, Thaba Bosigo! Surely no\nother spot in the country contains so much history as this small\nmountain, where Mosheshue first took his stand, and where he and all the\nprincipal chiefs of the past now lie buried.\n\nThaba Bosigo rises abruptly from the plain around it. The sides are very\nsteep, and in many parts precipitous, especially near the top. There are\nnarrow zig-zag paths by which the people ascend and descend, but of\nthese there are not more than half a dozen, and when Mosheshue lived\nthere they were all strongly fortified, so that the mountain was\npractically impregnable. The remains of the fortifications are still to\nbe seen. The top of the mountain is peculiar, a great part of it being\ncovered with waves of sand; but there is plenty of pasture and a good\nwater supply.\n\nBefore and during the time of Mosheshue many of the Basuto were\ncannibals, but it is supposed they originally became so from\nstarvation, rather than from choice. Some years ago there lived at\nThlotsi an old woman, who in her girlhood had a wonderful escape from a\nband of cannibals. She was fat and young, a truly tempting object, and\nshe was all alone, walking to the \"lands\" from her home. They seized and\nbound her, and carried her off to their lair. Here they amputated both\nlittle fingers, and removed her upper lip; then placing her in the pot\nof warm water they left her to bleed to death while they went to collect\nfirewood; but she happening to be a particularly robust, determined\ndamsel, removed herself during their absence, and managed to gain her\nhome, where her wounds were attended to, and she rapidly recovered. Many\nyears afterwards, as she was preparing the porridge for breakfast,\noutside her hut, two old men came up and asked for food. She looked up,\nrecognised them as two of her former captors and--gave them breakfast.\nThe spot where she was caught was the death trap of many a poor victim,\nand now it is believed to be haunted. Strange tales have been told by\npeople who have tried to pass there at night. Shadowy forms have been\nseen seated in a ring, chanting weird songs, while from the centre of\nthe ring have issued smoke, and the cries and groans of the victims. A\nhorseman, too, has been seen to ride up in haste, though no sound of\nhoofs has disturbed the night; but on his approach the ghostly company\nhas dispersed. I know of one or two other spots visited in the same way\nby \"ghosts,\" which are known to have been the abodes of cannibals. In\nthe north of Basutoland there still live two old people, a man and a\nwoman, no connection or relationship exists between them, but each has\nbeen in youth a cannibal, and in the eyes of the Basuto they are each\nbranded with the evidence of their crimes, for each has white spots on\nthe skin, which are gradually increasing in size--a sure sign, according\nto Basuto superstition, of cannibalism, as these spots were not there in\nchildhood, not even in middle age. Very few Basuto have been known to\nbear this \"hall mark.\" It is very peculiar, generally beginning as a\nsmall round white mark, not as big as a marble, under the arm, which\nincreases in size and is joined by others, until it is supposed to\nresemble a hand (a very clumsy one, certainly).\n\nThe Basuto are the people of the crocodile (Kuena), or as it is in\nSesuto, \"Bakuena,\" the crocodile being their sacred animal. They believe\nthat one crocodile still exists in the Caledon, but I have never met any\none who had seen it. Still they cling to this belief, for what would\nBasutoland be without its Kuena? There is no need to see it, it is\nthere. It will not desert its people, so why should they disturb it? Are\nnot the chiefs its especial people? and they are not influenced by idle\ncuriosity to prove its actual existence.\n\nAt one time, no doubt, there were crocodiles in the larger rivers, as\nthere were lions and tigers in the mountains--in fact, the country\nabounded with wild animals; but at the present day, save for a few\nelands, and buck of various sorts, there are none, unless one includes\nbaboons and an occasional silver jackal, and rarer still, a \"tiger\" as\nit is called, which I believe is in reality a leopard.\n\nSome sort of belief in the transmigration of souls is evidently indulged\nin by the Basuto, for they will tell you quite solemnly that such and\nsuch a snake is the spirit of So-and-so's grandfather, and that the\nspirit of another ancestor has revisited the earth in the form of a dog\nor baboon. They firmly believe in the efficacy of charms, or certain\nportions of an animal or human being to ward off the evil spirits, or to\ngive courage or special strength, or again to endow with \"second sight.\"\nThe charms are worn on the body; the portions of flesh are burnt, then\nground to a fine powder, mixed with some vile concoctions by the\n\"medicine man,\" and drunk by those desirous of receiving the special\nquality desired. In the old days much wealth could be made by the\nmedicine men out of the heart of a white man, the people believing that\nto drink the medicine made from it would endow them with the courage\nand mental abilities of \"le khuoa\" (the white man.)\n\nThe Basuto, like most native races in South Africa, are distinctly\nconservative as regards their superstitions and laws, any changes in the\ncustoms of their forefathers being looked upon with much suspicion and\nstrong disfavour as a rule. They still cling to their belief in\nwitchcraft, in \"throwing the bones,\" in ghosts, in the evil\nwater-spirits, and in the \"evil eye.\" Their traditions are handed down\nfrom generation to generation by men who make it their business to\nlearn, even to the most minute detail, all the folk lore, history,\nsuperstitions, and customs of their nation. They are an emotional\npeople, easily moved to tears or laughter, more like uncontrolled\nchildren than men and women. They believe that their witch doctors can\nfind out anything, and can call down the lightning god's wrath upon any\nindividual, who will, unless he is able to propitiate promptly the\ndeity, be struck by lightning ere many days have passed. These witch\ndoctors are also rain-makers, and greatly in request in the dry seasons;\nbut they are extremely clever, and take pains to study the signs in the\nheavens before committing themselves in any way. When they can be\npersuaded into praying for rain, they seldom fail to bring it; thus the\nbelief in their superhuman powers is unbounded.\n\nWith regard to the land, it is all practically in the possession of the\nParamount Chief; but each householder has a right to as much as he can\ncultivate, and each chief owns large tracts of country, subject, of\ncourse, to the approval of the Paramount Chief, who has power to give or\ntake away as he deems desirable, though certain of the principal chiefs,\nnotably the sons of old Molapo, are too powerful for him to interfere\nwith, unless supported by the Government.\n\nPasture is free to all, but certain tracts of pasturage are marked off\nby each chief as winter grazing, other as summer grazing, and cattle\nfound feeding on one or the other out of season are impounded until the\nowner has been caught and reprimanded or fined, according to the\nenormity of his offence.\n\nThere are no rates nor land taxes, neither can the land be sold; but the\npeople give a certain amount of help to their chief in the cultivation\nof his land, and the Paramount Chief has power to summon the whole\npopulation to his aid, did he desire to do so.\n\nThe chief conducts all his legal affairs at the entrance of the\n\"Khotla,\" or court-house, a large, empty hut situated in the centre of\nthe village, with a big open space in front, where the people assemble\nto hear and to give evidence. In the doorway, on a mat or kaross, the\nchief sits, with his head-man beside him, while on either hand are\nseated his councillors. No women are ever allowed to be present. Any one\ncan have a hearing, no matter how trivial his evidence or grievance may\nbe, and in any serious offence the longer the list of witnesses the\nbetter every one is pleased. It is no unusual thing for a trial to last\nseveral days, and the interest is as keen at the end as at the\ncommencement.\n\nWhen a chief dies he is succeeded by the eldest son of his principal\nwife. Should she have no sons, then the eldest son of the second wife\nsucceeds, unless for some exceptional reason a special son is chosen in\nhis father's lifetime and presented to the people as their future chief.\nA woman rarely succeeds to the chieftainship.\n\nMost of the European houses in Basutoland are built of brick, and are by\nno means substantial; but there are some very good stone buildings, and\nthe country is certainly not lacking in suitable rock from which to\nbuild. In some instances raw brick is used and plaistered inside and out\nand afterwards whitewashed. Our first home at Mafeteng was a little\nwhitewashed thatched cottage, with mud floors and calico ceiling, the\ncalico merely being caught up and tacked here and there to a beam in the\nroof. In the rainy season the water used to pour in at the back door\n(the house was built on the slope of a hill), and if not promptly\ndirected into a more desirable course would speedily threaten to drive\nus out of house and home. As a rule the houses are small, except those\nof the Assistant Commissioners, and of course the Residency and\nGovernment Secretary's houses at Maseru. One or two of the more wealthy\ntraders are now beginning to build better houses and shops; but when we\nfirst entered the country, the majority of the buildings were very poor\nspecimens of the builder's art.\n\nAt Leribe there is a funny little fort built inside the prison enclosure\nat the time of the \"Gun War,\" and which stands sturdily facing all\nweathers to the present day, though it is the roughest of workmanship.\n\nEvery spring the grass is burnt through the length and breath of\nBasutoland, which makes it very rank and coarse, and what is called\n\"sour veldt.\" No wonder there are few wild flowers to be seen, save in\nthe kloofs of the mountains. There are not many ferns, but the\nmaidenhair grows in glorious profusion. The only wild fruits to be found\nare a small, very inferior blackberry, the wild raspberry, and the dwarf\ncape gooseberry.\n\nThe Basuto ponies are supposed to be descendants of some Shetland ponies\nwhich were imported into the Eastern Province of Cape Colony about the\nyear 1840, and were soon after lost sight of in the Stormberg\nMountains, and are supposed to have wandered into Basutoland. Certainly\nsome of them are even now small enough to be \"Shelties,\" and are not\nunlike them in shape.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nMARRIAGE CUSTOMS--DEATH CUSTOMS.\n\n\nWhen a youth wishes to marry, he does not go to his father and ask for a\nwife. Such a course would be most disrespectful, and altogether wanting\nin etiquette. The young men before marriage are not supposed to make\nrequests, or to converse much with their elders. Their duties are\nchiefly those of herds; the elder boys or youths looking after the\ncattle, and the smaller boys guarding the sheep and calves. But to\nreturn, when a youth wishes to marry, he gets up very early one morning\nand takes out his father's cattle to the pasture without milking the\ncows, and lets the calves run with their mothers and drink all the milk.\nNo notice of this is taken on his return, and the same course is pursued\nby him for thirty days. All his companions leave him severely alone, and\nnickname him \"the silly one.\" On the thirtieth day his father says,\n\"Surely my son wants to get married.\" This remark is repeated to the\nyouth, and the next day the cattle return to their former habits and are\nmilked as usual, but on the first morning of their milking the youth\nmust do it unaided. All this milk is then poured into a pot and made\ninto butter. The butter is boiled and poured into a new pot, and kept\nto anoint the prospective bridegroom's face. No questions are asked as\nto whom the youth wishes to marry. His wishes are very secondary\nconsiderations, and not to be weighed for a moment against those of his\nfather. If the wife selected by his father does not happen to be the\n\"lady of his heart,\" he is at liberty to choose a second wife for\nhimself, as soon as he can pay the dowry or persuade his father to pay\nit for him, for when he is a married man, he is on an equality with his\nfather, and can consult him or ask for his help.\n\nAfter the episode with the cattle, the youth's father will select a\ngirl, and go to talk over matters with her father. After they have\nagreed as to the number of cattle required for the dowry, about a month\nis allowed to elapse, at the end of which time the cattle are chosen (as\na rule, thirty head are required, but occasionally fifteen or twenty,\nwith a horse or a few sheep and goats thrown in, will suffice). The\nbridegroom's father prepares a small feast, the mother makes a large\nquantity of \"leting\" (mild beer), and all the friends and relations on\nhis side regale themselves. The bridegroom then takes out the remaining\ncattle to pasture, while his father and male friends start off with the\ndowry. Some little distance before they reach the bride's home two\ncattle are chosen from the herd, a male and a female, to represent the\nbridegroom's parents; these are driven at a gallop through the village\nand into the kraal. This is supposed to represent the impatience of the\nparents to welcome their new daughter. The other cattle are driven\nleisurely along, the herds lustily singing the Basuto wedding song.\nThese cattle are also shut up in the kraal on their arrival. All the\nrelations and friends of the bride then seat themselves on one side of\nthe entrance to the kraal, while the bridegroom's procession sit on the\nopposite side. For a short time dead silence prevails, until the bride's\nfather (who hitherto has not appeared) joins the party and greets the\nstrangers, after which every one is allowed to talk. The bull and heifer\nare then driven out and commented upon after the usual manner, very\nfulsome remarks and compliments being exchanged. No girls must be seen\nanywhere about, and the bride must be shut up in her father's hut, and\nthe mother in another hut by herself.\n\nAfter a few pleasantries the bride's father goes to tell his wife his\nopinion of the cattle. He then calls for \"Juala\" (strong beer), the\nfirst pot being given to the two men who drove in the bull and heifer.\nAfter they have drunk as much as they can, they say--\n\n\"We are coming to borrow a cup of water for our son.\"\n\nThe bride's father asks--\"How many cattle have you brought?\"\n\nThey reply \"Thirty,\" or whatever the number may be.\n\nThe cattle are then counted, and every one drinks again.\n\nThe bridegroom's companions now begin to dance, and all the girls of the\nvillage must join in the dancing, with the exception of the bride and\nthree chosen companions. This is continued till dark, all the\nbridegroom's procession sleeping in the bride's village for the night.\nThe next morning the bride's father chooses the fattest ox he possesses\nand has it killed, thus showing the bargain is completed. Should there\nbe no ox killed, then the bridegroom's father knows there is some hitch,\neither the dowry is not sufficient, or a more eligible suitor has come\nforward. A little tact and patience is necessary to find this out, as no\ndirect questions may be asked. If it is merely a matter of dowry, a\nbargain is made, and, upon the arrival of the extra cattle, the\nproceedings continue. After the ox is killed, the dewlap is cut off and\ndivided into two strips, one of which is bound round the girl's wrist,\nand the other sent to the bridegroom to be bound round his wrist. This\nsignifies that they are now bound to each other. The bridegroom's father\nthen sends for a big ox, which is killed, and the skin given to the\nbride's mother. All that day there is feasting and merry-making. The\nnext day the bridegroom's procession returns home. For a period of from\none to three months from this time the bridegroom continues to herd his\nfather's cattle, and life goes on much as usual, except that the father\nand mother set about preparing their son's future home. When the\nnecessary time has expired, the bride sets out for her husband's home,\naccompanied by two girl companions and two old women. On leaving her\nfather's house she must not say good-bye to her parents, nor must she\nspeak or look back until she reaches her husband. To look back or bid\nfarewell would show regret, and be an insult to her lord. Silence is\nenjoined, because her first word must be her greeting to him. As a rule\nseveral of her girl friends accompany her part of the way, laughing and\nsinging, and doing all in their power to make her either speak or look\nback. While they are yet some little distance from the bridegroom's\nvillage, they come to a standstill, the old women obstinately refusing\nto go any farther until some suitable gift is presented to them. The\nwatchers at the village, who have seen all this byplay, and quite\nunderstand what it means, hasten to tell the bridegroom's father, who at\nonce sends out either some wearing apparel, an ox, or young animal. As\nsoon as the sun sets, the bride enters the village, being conducted\nstraight to the bridegroom's house. She and her four companions must\nremain perfectly silent, nor must they accept any refreshment from the\nbridegroom's mother until his father has killed and roasted a sheep and\noffered a portion of it to them to eat. The girl must be kept at her\nmother-in-law's hut for the night, and remain perfectly silent. A number\nof wedding guests now assemble, and feasting and singing continue all\nnight. In the morning the bride's friends return to their homes.\n\nFor the next month the bride is instructed in all household work by her\nmother-in-law, and carries all the water from the well for the use of\nthe household. While going to fetch water she must neither turn her head\nnor speak, no matter who may accost her. While in the \"skerm,\" or even\nin the hut, she is allowed to converse in low tones with any one who\ncomes in, but her voice must not be raised either in anger or laughter.\nAll this time remarks are freely made in her hearing as to her\nattractions or lack of such, and very outspoken are those remarks.\n\nMeanwhile, the bridegroom endeavours by every means in his power to see\nand speak to his bride, but on no account must others see him near the\nhut, and his mother keeps watch more or less strictly, as she happens to\nbe more or less favourably disposed towards his bride. The consequence\nis that the bridegroom creeps round the hut whenever he gets away from\nobservation, and, should he be fortunate enough to find his bride alone\nin the \"skerm,\" he crawls in and talks to her in low tones while she is\ngrinding, for, upon seeing him enter in that manner, she knows he is her\nhusband, and instantly begins grinding. Should any one be heard\napproaching the hut, the bridegroom will at once disappear. When the\nmonth of probation is ended, the bride is conducted to her own hut, and\nfreed from all restrictions.\n\nIt is the custom of the wife, some few months afterwards, to take her\npitcher to the well, break it, and leave the broken pieces where they\nwill be seen, and run away to her own parents, without giving any one a\nhint as to her intentions. Her mother will at once make her a new\npitcher. When it is ready she and her friends will set out for her own\nhome, laden with pots of \"leting,\" and in some cases driving an ox\nbefore them. Her return is the signal for renewed feasting and\nmerrymaking.\n\nOf course, now that the missionaries have introduced European marriage\ncustoms, a great many of these native rites and ceremonies are done away\nwith, a Christian native's marriage being conducted on the same lines\nand subject to the same rules as a white man's, the bride even adorning\nherself with cheap (in quality, but not in price) white finery, with\nthe orthodox wreath and veil, in which, poor creature, did she but know\nit, she looks extremely ridiculous. She is attended by bridesmaids, all\ndecked out in bright colours, and the bridegroom and best man are\nresplendent in brand-new suits, white dress shirts, and upright collars,\nwith gorgeous ties.\n\nA Mosuto has no objection to marriage with a blood relation, provided\nshe will prove a desirable connection, and it is the custom for the\nchiefs to inherit their fathers' wives as well as his other possessions.\nThese wives, as a rule, each chief distributes amongst his councillors\nand favourites, but their children are always called his, thus giving\nhim a considerable source of wealth, as the sons work for him, and the\ndaughters bring him large dowries of cattle. Fidelity, either from the\nhusband or wife, is a virtue rarely to be found amongst the heathen, but\nits absence creates no trouble as long as it is not discovered. If a man\nill-uses his wife to any great extent, she can return to her father; the\nmarriage is then annulled, and her father is entitled to retain both her\nand the cattle paid by the ex-husband for her at the time of the\nmarriage.\n\nIn cases where a chief wishes to retain the services of a man, he will\nbestow one of his wives upon him for the length of time his services are\nrequired, but any children born of this marriage belong to the chief.\nThis state of affairs is kept as much as possible from the knowledge of\nEuropeans, and indeed the missionaries have done much towards the\nimprovement of the people in this respect, as well as in other ways;\nbut, while such vast numbers are averse to Christianity, the improvement\nmust naturally be slow.\n\nSuch a thing as an \"old maid\" is almost unknown amongst the heathen\nBasuto, nor are widows allowed to remain as such for any length of time.\nGenerally, a widow is married again twelve months after her husband's\ndeath, to his nearest blood relation, most frequently his brother.\n\nThe superstitions and practices with regard to illness and death are\nworthy of record. If any one is taken ill it is believed to be because\nhe or she has offended the spirits of his forefathers. To propitiate\nthem, an ox or a sheep must at once be sacrificed, the blood of which\nmust be used to wash the sick person, while the fat from the entrails of\nthe sacrifice must be wrapped round the patient's neck. The meat of the\nsacrifice is eaten by the \"family doctor\" and the male relations,\nwithout salt, and at one meal. If the patient recovers, it is because\nthe sacrifice has found favour with the spirits; but if he dies, they\nare still angry, and further means must be taken to propitiate them.\n\nIn cases of serious illness, when it is unmistakable that death is\nnear, the sick person is taken out of the hut, if it is at all possible\nto remove him, without causing him instant death, as the spirits obtain\neasier access to the \"Skerm\" than to the interior of the hut. A hole is\ncut in the \"Skerm\" to enable the spirits to enter, as they cannot do so\nthrough the doorway of mortals. The friends and relatives of the dying\nman (or woman) then bid him farewell and leave him to the care of the\nwatchers, old women, blood relations of the family. These heartless\ncreatures resort to the most cruel and barbarous acts, which it would be\ntoo revolting to describe; suffice it to say, that, ere life is quite\nextinct, they place their victims in the recognisedly correct posture,\nnamely, in an upright position, with knees up to chin, and arms doubled\nup. They then tie him securely so that he cannot move his limbs.\n\nIn cases where death has been unexpected, the sinews have to be severed\nat the elbows, knees, and hips, in order to place the dead in the\ncorrect position for burial. As soon as death has occurred, a skin is\nthrown over the corpse, which on no account must be removed by any one.\nThe old women then break out into a dismal wailing cry, and the watchers\noutside know that all is over. They immediately throw ashes on their\nheads and join in the weeping, placing their hands on their bowed heads,\nand almost prostrating themselves before the dead. All friends are then\nsummoned, each one bringing a present of grain for the dead to sustain\nhim on his journey. They then kill an ox as a sacrifice, which is cooked\nafter dark; the mourners weep and gird their loins with strips of hard\nhide, and seat themselves in groups by the hut. Very little talking is\nallowed, the only permissible subject being the good deeds and noble\nqualities of the deceased. After dark a few of the nearest male\nrelatives set off to dig the grave, which is a circular hole about four\nfeet deep. The doctor is called to pray for clouds, in order that the\nnight may become very dark.\n\nShortly before midnight the corpse is carried, still wrapped in the\nskin, and placed at the entrance to the cattle kraal, which is left open\nall night, as he alone must guard the cattle from straying on this, his\nfirst night in the spirit world. Just before dawn he is placed in his\ngrave with the grain, a small piece of meat, salt and leting, and a\nlarge stone, as nearly the size of the grave as possible, is placed on\nhis head. He is placed facing the east, to be ready to obey \"Molinio's\"\ncall, and in a crouching position, so as not to be late in answering it.\nThe grave is then filled up with earth and stones, until there is a\nfair-sized mound. On the top of this is placed the contents of the\nstomach of the cow or ox, sacrificed at sunset to the spirits who rule\nover life and death, after which every one must leave the grave,\nwithout one backward glance, if they do not wish to incur the severe\ndispleasure of the spirits.\n\nThe entrance to the cattle kraal is then built up, and a new one made.\nThe cattle are called \"Melimo a' nko e metse\" (the spirits with the wet\nnoses). The graves of old men are always dug round the kraal, others are\nburied, either on the hill top, or in sight of the kraal, but not very\nnear.\n\nThe mourners then return to the hut, where the meat of the sacrifice is\ndivided between them; but before eating, they wash themselves, and the\nnear relations of the deceased fasten a piece of fat from the entrails\nround their neck, thus signifying that they mourn for a parent, or\nhusband, or child, and to propitiate the spirits, lest another of the\nfamily should die. In eating the meat great care must be taken that no\nbones are allowed to be thrown away, or given to the dogs, because they\nare a sacrifice to the old god, and dogs may neither partake of such\nfood nor enter the \"happy land.\" When all the meat is eaten the bones\nare collected and burnt, while the mourners stand round and cry, \"Our\nGod, hear us, oh! hear us, we pray, and receive this dead brother (or\nsister) in peace. There is a light to our grandfather's Father. May the\nold God pray to the new God for us.\"\n\nI forgot to mention that the meat of the sacrifice must not be cut with\na knife, nor have salt eaten with it. It must be torn in pieces, as to\nuse a knife would be to make sickness sharp. The poles of the dead man's\nhut are then pulled out, as no one must live in it again, and it is made\na ruin.\n\nAfter four or five months the pieces of fat are removed from the necks\nof the mourners, and replaced by a black reim, or strap, which is worn\nuntil the year of mourning has expired. The nearest male relative, uncle\nor brother of the deceased, then arrives, and is shown all the clothing,\nbedding, &c., with any possessions, such as knives, weapons, saddlery,\n&c., which belonged to the dead man. A sheep is then killed, and the\nblood is sprinkled over the clothing. The whole sheep must be eaten by\nthe uncle alone before he can return to his own house. When it is\nfinished he breaks the mourning chains, which he takes with him. A pack\nox or horse and all the personal effects of the deceased are brought to\nthe door and taken away by the uncle, who thus removes all sickness from\nthe family. When he reaches home, before he enters his own house,\nanother sheep is killed and quickly eaten by him and his family, so as\nto drive sickness far from the house.\n\nShould any one be so heartless as not to cry at the funeral of friend or\nrelation, the spirits become enraged, and visit him with some terrible\nsickness as a punishment for his hardness of heart.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nBIRTH CUSTOMS--EDUCATION--INTELLECT--CHARACTER--NEWS-CARRIERS.\n\n\nThe \"Khapong,\" which I mentioned in a former chapter, is supposed to be\nthe abode of the Spirit of Maternity, and women who have no children\nfirmly believe this spirit is able to grant their heart's desire if only\nthey can find favour in his sight. In order that he may see how\nearnestly they desire a child, they will make either a wooden or clay\ndoll, which they strap on their backs and carry about with them, as they\nwould a living child, for at least six months. At the end of that time,\nthey lay it in the \"Khapong\" as an offering to the spirit, together with\nany bangles, beads, or ornaments, or even money, which they can collect.\nShould no child be born, it is a sign that the woman has not found\nfavour with the spirit yet, so the doll is removed from the \"Khapong,\"\nand strapped on the woman's back until the spirit is satisfied, when oh,\njoy! the longed-for child is born. I know of one case where for five\nyears the woman carried one of these dolls about with her before her\npetition was granted.\n\nThe customs with regard to the birth of a woman's first child are\ndecidedly quaint. To begin with, the wife must leave her husband's house\nabout a month, or even longer, before the expected arrival of the child,\nas it must be born at the home of its maternal grandmother, or else it\ncannot possibly live to grow up. If it happens to be a boy, the\nrejoicings are judiciously mixed with regret. As the news-bearers set\nout at once to carry the tidings to the father (who has remained at his\nown village), they learn nothing of the woman's condition, that is a\nmatter of slight importance. Upon arrival at their destination they\nattack the unsuspecting man and beat him vigorously with their sticks.\nNo word is spoken, but the unlucky man at once understands he is the\nfather of a male child instead of the eagerly hoped-for daughter.\nNaturally he is disappointed, but nevertheless he consoles himself with\nthe reflection that after all a boy is better than no child, for he will\ncertainly be of some use, and the spirits may be kind and give him a\ndaughter next time. If, on the other hand, the infant is a girl, the\nwoman receives many and hearty congratulations; the news-bearers hurry\noff to carry the joyful tidings to the father. Great caution is observed\nas they approach the village, lest he should catch sight of them. At\nlength they manage to creep up behind him, when he is sitting outside,\nprobably conversing with one or two friends. The messengers are armed\nthis time with a pot of water, which they throw over the happy father,\nwho immediately receives the congratulations of all his friends. The\nwater is supposed to act as a wholesome \"damper\" upon his joy, lest the\ngood news should prove injurious to him or unsettle his mind. It is not\nconsidered correct for him to visit his wife and child, but, when the\nbaby is a month old, the wife returns to her husband, bringing the child\nwith her. Basuto women often nurse their baby until it is eighteen\nmonths old. When the first baby is weaned, the mother takes it back to\nher parents, to whom it will in future belong; the actual parents no\nlonger retain any claim upon it, nor, should it be a girl, do they\nreceive the dowry upon her marriage; that also belongs to the maternal\ngrandparents.\n\nShould a doctor be called in at the birth of a child, the mother can\nneither wean it nor cut its hair until the doctor has given his consent.\nUsually the infant's head is shaved on the second day.\n\nShould other children be born, there is no need for the mother to leave\nher husband's house, as no evil will attend their birth, such as\nthreatens the birth of the first-born. In all cases where no doctor has\nbeen in attendance, the father has absolute control over the child,\nwhether absent or present, and no step can be taken without first\nconsulting him.\n\nSometimes rather strange complications arise. For instance, numbers of\nBasuto leave the country every year to find work in the mines and on the\nrailways. Many of them are married men with young children. Suppose one\nman left a wife and baby of a few months old behind him, his wife must\non no account wean the child until her husband returns. The result is,\nthat now and then one comes across quite big children, able to run about\nand talk quite intelligently, still unweaned, and, when asked the\nreason, the mother will reply: \"My husband has not yet returned.\"\nOccasionally he never comes back.\n\nWhen the birth of a child is momentarily expected, as many women and old\nmen (the latter being regarded as \"old women\") crowd into the hut as it\nwill conveniently hold. As soon as the child is born, an appropriate\nname is suggested, such as \"Thibello\" (waited for or long expected),\n\"Siluane\" (tear-drop), etc., and by this name the child is in future\nknown, the mother taking the name \"Ma-Thibello\" (mother of waiting), or\n\"Ma\" (mother of), whichever name is given to the child.\n\nShould a woman die while her child is still too young to be fed with a\nspoon, a sheep or goat is killed, and the windpipe, thoroughly cleansed,\nis used as a feeding-tube, down which the milk is slowly poured into\nthe child's mouth. If it is not expedient to kill an animal, a female\ngoat in milk is procured, and the child taught to drink from the goat's\nudder. In these cases the goats become more attached to their \"foster\nchildren\" than to their own offspring, and will return at regular\nintervals to the hut to suckle the child. It is a strange sight to see a\ngoat run bleating to the hut out of which crawls a fat brown baby, over\nwhom the animal rejoices as if it were her own, lying down contentedly\nto allow it to drink, until, thoroughly satisfied, the child retires to\nsleep, and the goat trots off to pasture, returning again to her charge\nin a few hours.\n\nAmongst Christian families Sesuto names are always given to the children\nat the time of their birth, although, when old enough, they are taken to\nthe missionary to be baptized, the name then chosen being generally a\nBiblical one. The Basuto also bestow what they consider suitable Sesuto\nnames upon the Europeans and their children living in the country.\n\nNow that education is procurable in the country, the children are sent\noff to school as soon as they are old enough to master the alphabet.\nMany of them are bright, clever little creatures, and keenly interested\nin their studies, with often quite as much ability as the ordinary\nEuropean child of the same age, but, as a rule, they can only be\neducated up to a certain point. When one reaches that one comes, as it\nwere, to a blank wall. There seems to be no further brain power to\ndevelop, and, if forced to continue his studies, the youth will become\nsullen, stupid, and intensely trying to one's patience. This applies to\nthem in all \"walks of life\"--in domestic work, in carpentry, masonry,\netc. The girls are good, honest, nice-tempered servants, capable of\nbecoming fairly efficient in all household work, and especially good as\nnurses, being devoted to their little charges, who, as a rule, have a\ngreat affection for them in return; but one has to realise at once that\none must limit one's expectations, and be content with something\nconsiderably less than perfection. Their wonderful honesty, on the other\nhand, is a strong point in their favour. I have lived ten years in the\ncountry, and have only had two dishonest servants during that period.\n\nAll church services have a great attraction for them, whether heathen or\nbaptized Christians, and they will go long distances to attend\n\"service,\" on week days as well as Sundays. They are a musical race, and\npick up the airs of the hymns and chants with wonderful celerity,\nlearning to sing in parts as easily as though they had been trained to\ndo so for generations. Many of them have beautiful voices. In church\nthey are very devout, and would put to shame many a civilised\ncongregation. Of course, there are many cases of hypocritical\ndevoutness, but is that to be wondered at in a nation barely in touch\nwith civilisation? and, if we look nearer home, are we in a position to\ncriticise? I fancy not. It is, I admit, a little irritating to come\nacross a self-opinionated, intensely consequential young Mosuto, who\nevidently thinks his fellow-creatures the coarsest pottery as compared\nwith his own superfine eggshell china self, but another generation of\ncivilisation will show them more clearly where they stand.\n\nThe Basuto method of carrying news is as follows. In certain villages,\nat considerable distances apart, there are men whose business it is to\nact as \"criers,\" because they possess the art of throwing their powerful\nvoices through long distances. In each district, certain spots are\nselected from which to call. These spots are chosen because of their\nnatural advantages. When any important news has to be sent through the\ncountry, a \"crier,\" or Mohale or a Marumo, as he is called (literally\n\"the brave man of the assegai\"), goes to the top of one of these chosen\nplaces, and shouts his news to the village in the distance, where dwells\nthe next \"crier.\" It is desirable to call at night, as the voice carries\nso much more distinctly. Crier No. 2, on hearing the voice, listens,\nperhaps asks a question or two, and then sets off at a trot to the next\nspot, from whence he calls to Crier No. 3, and so on. In this way the\nnews travels with astonishing rapidity. Long distances are covered in a\nfew hours. News of battle is never sent until after sunset. During the\nfighting in Natal and in the Stormberg, the Basuto invariably heard of\nany big engagement before we did, though we were possessed of\ntelegraphic communication. Of course, I am only referring here to South\nBasutoland. As far as I know, our headquarters was all along in direct\ncommunication with the Generals, and probably received information\nbefore other parts of the country.\n\nOften in the evenings, when there is, for South Africa, a great\nstillness over all, the silence will be broken by the call of one human\nvoice to another. It is by no means unmusical, and there is nothing\nharsh about it. Somehow the sound seems fitted to the scene, part of the\nweird strangeness of one's surroundings. I wish my pen were gifted\nenough to describe it properly, so as to bring the picture before\nyou--the dim twilight; the cool after the great heat of the day; the\ntiny blinking fires here and there on the dark, frowning mountains from\nnumberless hamlets; the voice of nature hushed to a dreamy murmur; then\nthe deep drawn-out call from one village to another, arousing countless\nechoes from the kloofs below, or the steady rise and fall of many\nvoices chanting in the minor key some favourite heathen song as the\nsingers sit round their homes in the refreshing coolness of a Basutoland\nsummer night. One is filled with a great wonder. Life and oneself seem\nso little, the world so vast, and eternity the vastness beyond all\nwords.\n\nPeople living in such a country are naturally emotional, and very\nimpressionable, with a firm belief in the supernatural. Their music,\ntoo, if such it can be called, is in the minor key, though even that\ndoes not have a lastingly depressing effect upon them. They are just\nlike big, undisciplined children, full of \"moods\" and impulses, and\neasily influenced by kindness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nNATIVE DOCTORS--THOKOLOSI--MOLOI--WARFARE--PROVERBS.\n\n\nEach chief has his own especial rain-maker, who is also the \"Ngaka,\" or\ndoctor. These men are held in great veneration by the people, who firmly\nbelieve they are possessed of supernatural power. Of course the \"Ngaka\"\nencourages this belief in every possible way, playing upon the credulity\nof his victims with the solemnity of a seer of old. He makes a paying\nbusiness of it, too, exacting a goat or sheep, or even several head of\ncattle, as payment, according to the magnitude of the service performed\nby him. He knows the family history of each individual in his particular\ndistrict, and, in a quiet, unnoticed way, finds out everything likely to\nbe of use to him either in his profession as doctor or as prophet. He is\na student of nature to no small degree, and certainly possesses a wide\nknowledge of the use of herbs. He has a wonderful magnetic influence\nover others, the result, I suppose, of superior brain development.\n\nWhen rain is needed, the chief calls the \"Ngaka,\" who, armed with his\ndivining rod, arrives at the khotla to hear what is required of him. He\nthen proceeds to \"doctor\" the rod with a black pigment and human blood\n(I fancy in the remote past a human victim was always sacrificed, but\ntimes are changed, and a few drops of blood are all the rain-god now\nrequires). The people assemble in the village and watch him as he\nascends the nearest mountain. When on the summit, he raises his rod\nheavenward, and calls \"Pula ha-e-na a bolokue\" (Rain come down and save\nus). This he does several times, and goes through a considerable amount\nof pantomime; but, as no one is allowed to go near him, only his\ngestures can be followed after that one loud call. When he is satisfied\nthat rain is coming, he runs back to the village singing. The people\njoin him, and indulge in feasting and merry-making. If, after seven\ndays, no rain comes, there is something wrong with the divining-rod,\nwhich has displeased the rain-god, so the rod is again \"doctored,\" and\n\"Ngaka\" goes off once more to the mountain, where he remains in\nsupplication until \"he brings down rain.\" In reality, these men consult\nthe heavens before consenting to make rain, and consequently are seldom\nunsuccessful.\n\nCertain children are selected, in infancy or early childhood, to be made\ndoctors. Their poor little bodies are cut, and various \"medicines\"\nrubbed into the wounds, which bestow powers of divination, of healing,\nand of witchcraft upon the children. They become restless and unable to\nsleep in the hut at night, and, as their minds develop, they are trained\nby the old doctors to succeed them.\n\nThere is in Basutoland a little creature of whom all stand in awe. He is\nnot much bigger than a baboon, but is minus the tail, and is perfectly\nblack, with a quantity of black hair on his body. He has hands and feet\nlike an ordinary mortal, but is never heard to speak. He shuns the\ndaylight, and abhors clothing, even in the coldest weather. Evidently he\nis above such sensations as heat and cold. This wonderful little\ncreature is \"Thokolosi,\" the Poisoner, the Evil One, whose deeds are\ncruel, revengeful, apparently unlimited. He has power to kill, to\nafflict in every imaginable way, to send mad, or to visit with unknown\nsickness; but to do good is beyond his power. There are several of these\nlittle people in the country. They generally are employed by the witch\ndoctors to do their dirty work.\n\nTo slight a Thokolosi is to bring down disaster upon oneself. If once\nyou offend him, or he is commanded to injure you, he will hunt you down\nremorselessly until his object is accomplished. During the day he\ngenerally remains hidden in the corner of the witch doctor's hut, behind\nthe enormous juala pots, where it is so dark that he is unseen by even\nthe sharpest eyes. If by any unfortunate chance you meet him at night,\nyou must neither point at him nor speak to him.\n\nWhether there really are creatures in any way answering to the\ndescription of these little people or not I cannot say. My own belief is\nthat these doctors keep Bushmen who act the part and impose upon the\nsuperstitions of the Basuto, for there certainly is _some_ truth at the\nbottom of it all, as I can prove from personal experience.\n\nSome years ago, before I knew of the existence of Thokolosi, I was\nobliged to go to our cowshed rather late one evening to investigate the\ndisturbance amongst the cows. The moon was nearly full at the time, and\nwas shining brightly. The shed was at the bottom of our garden, some\nlittle way from the house. I went, accompanied by my native nurse girl\nand our big black retriever. Nothing occurred until we were returning,\nwhen suddenly we heard what I took to be a dog running from the\nResidency through the dead leaves in the garden towards us. I had barely\nsaid \"What's that?\" when we heard the \"ping\" of the wire fence, and saw,\ncrossing the path, not a dozen yards in front of us, a little black\ncreature about the size and shape of a boy of six. The night being very\nclear and bright there was no mistaking the fact that it was a human\nform of some sort. It ran with a peculiar shuffle, moving its head from\nside to side, straight through our garden into the darkness beyond.\nWhen my girl saw it she caught hold of me in terror, but uttered no\nword. The dog, on the contrary, gave vent to a sound half growl, half\nhowl, and tore off to the house, where we followed as quickly as\npossible, and found him under my little son's bed, from whence he\nrefused to stir. This was to my mind conclusive proof that I had not\nbeen \"imagining things,\" as was said to me when I described what had\noccurred; for the dog is a really plucky one, and I had never seen him\nafraid before. My girl then told me we had seen \"Thokolosi.\"\n\nThere is yet another evil influence called Moloi. He is in reality a\n\"doctored\" Mosuto, whose fate it is to kill the enemies of his clan or\nchief. When he is a child a deep wound is cut in his back near the\nspine; into this is rubbed a \"medicine\" composed of the necessary parts\nof a human body and various herbs. When this \"medicine\" influences him,\nhe shuns his fellow-creatures, discards his clothing, and remains out in\nthe veldt all night. His first duty is to kill a relation of his own,\nas, until he has done so, he can have no heart, no soul. He may be, and\noften is, extremely reluctant to do such a thing; but, sooner or later,\nthe fever in his blood (the power of the medicine) will compel him to do\nthe foul deed, after which his body finds rest, the fever leaves him,\nand he becomes a peaceable mortal once more, until the time comes when\nMoloi takes the place of the man, and he is ready for any deed, however\nbrutal. Of course, many of these old superstitions and customs are dying\nout, but they are by no means altogether dead. They are, however, kept\nas much as possible in the background, and the whole country is making\nreally wonderful strides towards civilization.\n\nBefore going to fight, the chief summoned all his warriors to his\nvillage, merely telling them to come supplied with \"lipabi.\" This\nconveyed the desired meaning to them, and they secretly prepared their\nweapons of war, and ordered their women-folk to prepare the \"lipabi,\"\nwhich is merely roast mealies ground to a powder and mixed with sugar or\nsalt. This is the only food carried during the campaign by a Mosuto\nwarrior. Towards sunset they arrived at their chief's village and\nprepared to kill the sacrifice. This must be a bull in good condition,\nand the manner of his death is particularly brutal. The unfortunate\nanimal is driven into a secluded spot some distance from the village,\nthe whole \"army\" accompanying it. (In cases where several chiefs combine\nagainst a common foe, each calls his own men, offers his own sacrifices\nof one or more bulls according to the number of warriors, and has his\nown separate war-dance.) Of course the \"Ngaka\" (doctor) is also\npresent. When it is time to kill the bull, the oldest and bravest\nwarriors step forward armed with three assegais each, which they throw\nin turn at the quivering, maddened animal, until at last one proves more\nmerciful than its predecessors, and puts an end to the poor brute's\nsufferings; but on no account must death occur _too_ quickly. As soon as\nit was dead, it was skinned, and the meat, partially cooked, was divided\namongst the company, nothing but the skin and the bare bones being\nallowed to remain. \"Mogobelo\" (the war dance) then began, the warriors\npresenting a most grotesque appearance, with their faces and bodies\nsmeared with red and white clay, ox tails suspended round their waists,\nand from elbows, knees, and often shoulders, their ox hide oblong\nshields in one hand, an assegai in the other, and head-dresses of every\nshape and form on their heads.\n\nThe doctor had already prepared a spot, and round this they danced,\ngrowing more and more excited as the night advanced. Every now and then\na warrior would break through the circle into the centre, where he would\nstamp and shout out the number of foes he had killed in battle, and how\nand where he had killed them, striking his assegai into the ground for\nevery slain foe.\n\nAt daybreak they were all \"doctored,\" and at once set out for the\nbattle-field. As far as I can learn, they had not any recognised order\nof advance, but merely did so _en masse_, until within a few hundred\nyards of the advancing foe. Each side then halted, while from their\nranks advanced one of the bravest of their warriors, who in stately\nmanner proceeded to cross the intervening space. Upon his arrival he\njoined the ranks of the enemy. Whichever warrior succeeded in reaching\nthe foe first, enabled his side to commence the attack.\n\nIn former days the warriors were armed only with assegais, battle-axes,\nshields, and clubs; but now every Mosuto of any standing possesses a\nfirearm of some sort, consequently their method of fighting has\nundergone considerable changes. They are by no means deadly shots, and\nwould have small chance of success against an European foe in the open;\nbut could give a pretty good account of themselves in the wilds and\nfastnesses of their own land.\n\nSome of the quaint proverbs, doings, and sayings of the Basuto deserve\nmention. For instance, it is not correct to pass behind any one, even in\na large assembly. It is looked upon as a moral stab in the back. Neither\nis it correct to insult a foe in the presence of others, the proverb\nbeing, \"If you prick an enemy with a two-pointed assegai, it will hurt\nyou as well.\"\n\nWhen a special blessing is given, the saying is, \"May your feet go\nsoftly all your days, and may your face be as the Morning Sun!\" In times\nof peace their greeting to a stranger is, \"We welcome you. We are\nsitting down building houses.\"\n\nAnother proverb is, \"One hand washes another.\" Again, when wishing to\npraise another, \"You have taken the wedge from between my teeth.\" To one\nin trouble the greeting is, \"The Mother of Consolation comfort you.\"\n\nAnother is, \"Break not your heart, sorrow will roll away like mists at\nsunrise.\" When any one is dying, they say, \"It is not a person. It is\nonly the grave of one.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nBOERS AND BASUTO.\n\n\nIt is perhaps as well, before closing this account of Basutoland, to\nmention the relation of Boers and Basuto towards each other, though the\nsubject is so distasteful that I may, perhaps, be pardoned for dwelling\nvery briefly upon it.\n\nThe Boers, from the earliest times, have been noted for their cruelty to\nthe coloured races, but this has been particularly so with the Basuto. A\nglance at the Crime Records at each Station or Magistracy, or a short\nperusal of the Blue Book, will verify this statement.\n\nFrequent cases of theft by Basuto servants from their Dutch masters are\nbrought up for trial all over the country, and upon investigation the\ngreater number prove to have been committed by those who, despairing of\never receiving the wages due to them for months (in some cases even\nyears) of labour, resort to this method of drawing attention to their\ncase.\n\nAs a rule the Mosuto helps himself to some of his master's flocks or\nherds, and flies for protection to Basutoland. He does not look upon\nthis in the light of actual theft, and is quite willing to be brought up\nby the Magistrate (or Assistant Commissioner as he is called) of his\nown district, where he knows he may freely state his case with the hope\nof receiving at least a fair hearing, and, if possible, in the future a\nportion of the wages due to him, though he knows he will first of all\nhave to endure a certain amount of punishment for the theft he has\ncommitted and for desertion, varying in severity according to the\nenormity of the offence. But all cases cannot be tried in Basutoland. In\nsome instances the Dutchman insists upon the Mosuto being brought up for\ntrial before the Landrost of the nearest Free State town. Small hope is\nthere then that the Mosuto's version will even be listened to.\n\n\"That Kaffir dog must learn what it is to steal from a Dutchman.\" And\noften poor wretch he does learn--from the \"cat\"--as well as having to\npay a fine or go to prison.\n\nIt is no uncommon thing for a Dutchman to hire a Mosuto to work for him\nfor two or three months, holding out as an inducement the promise of a\nsheep, or a couple of goats, or even a cow, as payment for the work\ndone. When the time has expired, the Mosuto claims his wages, but is put\noff with an excuse: he must work yet another month, and then he will get\nsomething more; or six months longer, and then perhaps he will get a\nhorse. And the poor, ignorant creature remains, only to be again\ndisappointed.\n\nIf he is idle he is sjamboked, kicked, and generally ill-used, and in\nsome cases even thus treated simply as a matter of course, though there\nis no cause for complaint.\n\nThe Basuto girls are also beaten both by master and mistress if they\nfail to give satisfaction, and are generally treated with contempt, if\nnot actually ill-used. If I give one or two examples it will suffice.\nThey are by no means exceptions.\n\nIn the Leribe district there lives a man who in his boyhood was leader\nof the team of oxen belonging to the Dutchman for whom he worked.\n\nIt is the duty of the leader, who is generally a boy of from ten to\nsixteen years of age, to guide the oxen by means of a leather strap\nattached to the horns of the two leading animals. This little fellow,\nwhom we will call Pete, was employed in this way. His master, as the\nwaggon moved slowly along, used to amuse himself by making a target of\nlittle Pete, using the long waggon whip as his weapon, and literally\nnipping out pieces of flesh from the child's naked body. If Pete ran on\nahead to get away from the cruel whip, he was shouted at and threatened\nwith dire punishment, until, terrified, he returned to his work.\n\nAt length, one day, a particularly sharp cut of the whip caught the\nchild in the eye dragging it completely out of its socket. No\ncompensation has ever been made to Pete.\n\nSome few years ago a Mosuto girl, who was employed at a Dutch\nfarm-house in the Free State, incurred the anger of her employer, who\nhad her stripped naked and fastened across a bedstead, whereupon he beat\nher until her back was all cut and bleeding, and a large piece of flesh\nhad been nipped completely out of her thigh. When the pain became so\ngreat that for a moment she fainted, she was released, kicked and sworn\nat, and told to return to her work. Needless to say, she did not do so,\nbut ran away to her home in Basutoland, and returned to her employer no\nmore.\n\nNot so long ago a Dutch farmer was riding round his farm and had\noccasion to find fault with a native. The man answered him very\nimpertinently, whereupon he rode back to his house, loaded his gun and\nreturned to where the now terrified native was working. With many curses\nhe called the man, telling him he intended to kill him. The poor wretch\nimplored to be spared, but in vain. He was shot, and when the case was\ntried in one of the Free State towns, the farmer was fined \u00a310!! That\nnight he gave a champagne supper to his friends.\n\nAnother similar case was that of a farmer whose habits were not too\ntemperate. One evening he was considerably annoyed by the noise his farm\nhands were making in their huts, some little distance from the house.\nThe men were having a small feast, and probably had been drinking a\nconsiderable quantity of Kaffir beer, their master had also been\ndrinking--_not_ Kaffir beer. He walked down to the hut and told them to\nbe quiet. They obeyed only for a few moments. Then the singing and noise\nbegan worse than before. Taking his loaded gun with him, the farmer\nreturned to the hut, called out one of the men and shot him dead on the\nspot. For this he was fined somewhere about \u00a3100 by the Free State\nGovernment. He was very wealthy. Both these men I have met, also their\nwives.\n\nYet one more case. Two servant girls, who for some offence were tied up\nto the wheels of the waggon by their master and flogged, were taken\naway, after his fury had exhausted itself upon them--mutilated corpses.\n\nOf course there are, here and there, amongst the Dutch, men and women\nwho are both kind and generous to their native servants, but they are\nthe exception, not the rule.\n\nThe ordinary Boer looks upon a native as no better than a dog, without\nrights, without a soul, a creature to be made use of, or to turn adrift,\nor ill-use, according to the mood of his master.\n\nI do not wish to give the idea that I consider the native races should\nbe placed on a level with the white races. Far from it. They need to be\ntreated much as one would treat an unruly child, with _great_ firmness,\nand to be taught to regard the white man as their _master_, as a being\ninfinitely their superior. But a master can be both kind and just, and\nonly punish where punishment is needed. To go from one extreme to the\nother is _most_ undesirable, and can be productive only of harm, and\nthose who try to instil ideas of equality into the semi-savage brain are\nincreasing the trouble which some future generation will almost\ninevitably have to face.\n\nWhat is sadly needed is that Englishmen and women (men especially)\nshould set the natives in every part of South Africa an example of\nuprightness, morality, and perseverance, should gain and retain the\nrespect and devotion of the native tribes, and should judiciously train\nthem to become useful members of our Empire.\n\nThe missionaries, undoubtedly, do an enormous amount of good, but many\nof them are as unwise in their treatment of the Basuto as the Boers,\nthough they err on the side of kindness. They fail to realize that\ncivilisation _must_ come gradually to be effective; that to try to run\nand jump before you can walk is foolish, and may often be harmful, and\nby treating a raw native as an equal, they are very possibly laying the\nfoundation stone for native disturbances in the future. Directly a\nnative begins to look upon himself as an educated being, equal to the\nwhite man, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred he at once loses all\nrespect for the European, whom he treats in an off-hand, condescending\nmanner, intensely offensive to any one who has realized the wide gulf\nwhich separates the two races.\n\nSo many people fail to understand that a South African native, even the\nbest, can not be placed in the same category as an Indian. I firmly\nbelieve that kindness will repay us infinitely better than cruelty,\n_but_ it must be kindness mixed with _great_ firmness, and there should\nbe _no_ lowering of the master to the level of the native. If only a\nbetter, a higher standard of \"morals and manners\" could be instilled\ninto the European races of South Africa, there would be no cause for\nanxiety as to the future development of the native races.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nTHE STORY OF TAKANE.\n\n\nOnce long ago there lived in Basutoland a chief who had many herds of\ncattle and flocks of sheep, and also a beautiful daughter called Takane,\nthe joy of his heart, and her mother's pride. Takane was loved by\nMasilo, her cousin, who secretly sought to marry her, but she liked him\nnot, neither would she pay heed to his entreaties. At length Masilo\nwearied her so, that her anger broke forth, and with scorn she\nsaid--\"Masilo, I like you not. Talk not to me of marriage, for I would\nrather die than be your wife.\" \"Ho! is that true?\" asked Masilo, the\nevil spirit shining out of his eyes. \"Wait a little while, proud\ndaughter of our chief; I will yet repay you for those words.\" Takane\nlaughed a scornful laugh, and, taking up her pitcher, stepped blithely\ndown to the well. How stupid Masilo was, and why did he keep on\ntroubling her? Did he think, the great baboon, that she would ever marry\nhim? Ho! how stupid men were, after all!\n\nBut in Masilo's heart there raged a devil prompting him to deeds of\nrevenge. It whispered in his ear, and, as he listened, he smiled, well\npleased, for already he saw the desire of his heart within his reach.\nPatience and a little cunning, and she should be his.\n\nThe next day Masilo obtained his uncle's consent to his giving a feast\nat a small village across the river for youths and maidens, as was the\ncustom of his tribe. He then paid a visit to the old witch-doctor, who\npromised to send a terrible hailstorm upon the village in the middle of\nthe feast. Next he went to all the people of the village, and, because\nhe was a chief's son, and had power in the land, and they were afraid to\noffend him, he made them promise that none of them would allow Takane to\nenter their huts; but he said no word of the hailstorm, only he told the\npeople the evil eye would smite them if they disobeyed him.\n\nEarly the next day all the villages were astir with excitement; the\nyouths set out in companies by themselves, the maidens following later,\nsinging and dancing as they went. How lovely Takane looked, her face and\nbeautifully rounded limbs shining with fat and red clay; the bangles on\nher arms and ankles burnished until human endeavour could do no more.\nSoon all were assembled, and dancing, singing, feasting, and gladness\nheld sway. Suddenly the sky grew dark, the rain-god frowned upon the\nvillage, and hail poured in fury down upon the feast. Away ran old and\nyoung, seeking shelter in the friendly huts. Takane alone remained\noutside. As she ran from hut to hut, the people crowded to the doorway,\nand, when she implored them to take her in, they replied that indeed\nthey would gladly do so, but how could they find room for even one more?\nDid she not see how some of them were almost outside the door already?\nAt length she came to a hut in which there was only one old woman,\nsitting shivering over a small fire. \"Mother,\" exclaimed Takane, \"I pray\nyou, let me come in, for I am nearly dead already.\" The old woman placed\nherself in the doorway, exclaiming, \"Go away; don't you see my house is\nfull?\" But the girl gently pushed her aside and entered.\n\nAfter the storm had passed, the merry-makers returned to their homes,\nMasilo alone remaining behind, in the hope of discovering Takane's dead\nbody, or hearing something of her fate. As he wandered here and there,\nhe saw her coming towards him, unconscious of his presence, and\nevidently on her way to cross the river. Quickly he hid behind a huge\nboulder until she had passed, when he cautiously followed her,\novertaking her just as she reached the bank of the river. Now by this\ntime the river was getting almost too full to cross in safety, and the\nWater Spirit was angrily murmuring, for he wanted a sacrifice of a human\nbeing to satisfy him. Masilo went up to Takane, who stood hesitating\nwhether to cross or not, and, seizing her by the hand, drew her into\nthe river, until the water came up to her neck.\n\n\"Will you marry me now, Takane, or shall I let the Water Spirit have\nyou? I know you cannot swim; so if you won't marry me, I shall take you\ninto the deep hole by that tree and push you in. Say, now, will you\nmarry me?\"\n\n\"No, Masilo, I will never marry you, never. Let the Water Spirit take me\nfirst;\" and she struggled to free her hand, but he was strong, and he\nheld her fast. Again he drew her farther into the river, until the water\nreached her lips.\n\n\"Now, Takane, is not life with me better than death with the Water\nSpirit for husband? Say, will you marry me now?\"\n\n\"I choose rather death in the black pool, with the cold stones for my\nbed and the water for my covering, than life with you as my husband.\nHaste, haste, for I am weary and would sleep.\"\n\nHer continued refusal to marry him so infuriated Masilo, that, seizing\nher by the hair of her head, he swam out towards the pool, into which he\npushed her with a fierce laugh, saying, \"There! go drown! It is too late\nnow to change your mind.\" He then turned, and in a few moments reached\nthe bank, and, without one backward glance, walked off to his hut.\n\nNow a wonderful thing happened to Takane. When Masilo pushed her into\nthe pool, the hungry water took her swiftly down towards the tree which\ngrew out of the middle of the river. She did not sink, because her\n\"blanket\" (literally the skin mantle worn by Basuto before the\nintroduction of blankets) was not yet wet through, and, as she passed\nunder the tree, the blanket caught in a low branch and held her firmly.\nThere she remained for some time, vainly trying to pull herself up into\nthe tree. At length she succeeded in doing so, and for the moment at any\nrate was safe, but, as she looked at the water all round her, and\nrealized that even when the river was low she could not reach the bank\nunaided, she felt that it would be better to drown at once than to die a\nslow death from starvation, which seemed the only fate before her if she\nremained in the tree. Still, something might happen, some one might pass\nand see her. Yes, she would wait at least a little while; so, arranging\nherself as comfortably as she could, she prepared to pass the night in\nthe tree.\n\nThe next morning Masilo came down to the river with the cows. Takane hid\nherself as much as possible, but his sharp eyes soon discovered her.\n\n\"Oh, ho! What strange bird is that?\" he exclaimed. \"How came it in the\ntree? I must try to catch it.\" Then, seeing that Takane remained\nmotionless, he sat down on the bank and began to eat his \"bogobe\" with\ngreat enjoyment. \"See what nice bread I have. Are you not hungry,\nTakane? Shall I send you some? But no, you do not need it. You are so\nfat, you will live for a long time. Well, I must go away now, but I will\ncome again to-morrow. It is nice to see the dear little Takane so\nhappy.\"\n\nThe next day Masilo came again, and ate his breakfast on the river bank,\ntaunting Takane all the while. This he did on several following days,\nuntil Takane became so weak that she neither heard nor saw him, and\nwould have fallen into the water were it not that her blanket held her\nfirmly to the tree. Meanwhile, there was mourning in her father's house\nand village, for all thought she had been drowned in trying to cross the\nriver after the storm.\n\nOne day, Takane's little brother followed Masilo when he took the cattle\nout to graze. When they came near the river, Masilo told the child not\nto come any farther, saying if he was a good boy, and did what he was\ntold, he would get a present of some little birds which were in a tree\nin the river. Masilo then left the child and paid his daily visit to\nTakane, but the little boy, full of curiosity, followed unseen, and to\nhis great astonishment saw, not a bird's-nest, with the promised young,\nbut his sister Takane, almost unrecognisable from starvation. He\nlistened for a little while to the conversation, then, fearing Masilo's\nanger if he were discovered, he crept back to the herd. When Masilo\nreturned, he told the child the birds were not quite big enough to leave\ntheir nest. The little boy then went home and told his parents what he\nhad seen. They made him promise to keep his secret; then, calling their\nmedicine man, they hurriedly took counsel together. Late that night,\nwhen the village was wrapped in darkness, the parents of Takane and the\nmedicine man set out for the spot where the girl was hidden. The\nmedicine man called upon the spirit of the water to aid them, and soon\nTakane lay in her mother's arms, too weak even to speak. Slowly and\ntenderly they bore her back to her home, where for days she lay between\nlife and death. Masilo and the other villagers were told that a sick\nstranger was in the hut, therefore they must not enter, and, as this is\nthe custom of the people, they thought nothing more of it. Masilo, it is\ntrue, had been down to the river and had found Takane gone, but he only\nthought that at last she had fallen into the water and been drowned.\nSeveral times he went down to see if the Water Spirit had given up its\nvictim, but no sign of Takane's real fate came to warn him.\n\nWhen two moons had come and gone, the old chief saw that the time to\npunish Masilo had come, so, calling all his people to assemble on a\ncertain day, he made preparations for a great feast. When the day came,\nthe people all assembled in the open space in front of the khotla\n(court-house), leaving a wide path from the chief's hut to the centre of\nthe open space. This path was carpeted with new mats, and skin karosses\nwere laid on the ground for the chief and his family to sit upon.\nMasilo, by right of his near relationship to the chief, took a prominent\nplace in the inner circle, while, unknown to him, several warriors\nquietly took their stand immediately behind him. Presently the old chief\nissued from his hut, followed by his chief councillor and medicine man;\nbehind them came Takane's mother, leading by the hand Takane herself, no\nlonger a living skeleton, but plump, smiling, and lovely as ever. A stir\nlike the beginning of a storm shook the people, while Masilo, with a\nwild cry, turned to escape, but was quickly caught by the armed\nwarriors, who had remained motionless behind him. Briefly the old chief\nrelated the story; then, raising his hand and pointing at the terrified\nMasilo, he cried, \"What, my children, shall be the fate of this toad?\"\nWith one voice, the people answered, \"The cruel death for him! the cruel\ndeath for him!\"\n\nA smile of approval passed over the chief's face, and, making a sign to\nthe warriors who held Masilo, he turned his back on the trembling\nwretch, who was dragged off to a distance and tortured to death, while\nthe village feasted and danced.\n\nWhen darkness once again enfolded the land, the dead body of Masilo was\ntaken to a secret spot and buried, and life at the village returned to\nits daily duties; but the spirit of Masilo could not rest, and still\nstrove to possess Takane, as his body had longed for her.\n\nOne day the daughters of the village, accompanied by Takane, went forth\nto gather reeds for the making of mats. They wandered far in their\nsearch, and were growing weary, when one of them cried: \"See! there are\nreeds, beautiful reeds, as many as we shall need;\" and they looking,\nsaw, even as their companion had said, a small bed of beautiful reeds.\nSoon all were busily engaged in cutting down armsful of the desired\nplant; but Takane, being a chief's daughter, was not allowed to work as\nhard as the other girls, and soon seated herself down to rest in the\nmiddle of the reed bed.\n\nWhen the sun was low in the sky the girls prepared to return home, but\nTakane could not rise from the ground, nor could her companions lift\nher. Again and again they tried to move her, but to no purpose; she\nseemed to have become rooted to the ground. Finally, she persuaded them\nall to return and obtain help from the village.\n\n\"Will you not be afraid, sister, if we leave you alone?\" they asked.\n\n\"Of what shall I be afraid?\" Takane replied. \"It is yet light, and the\nhome is near. Haste, for I am hungry, and the night is coming.\"\n\nThe girls then left her and ran home. No sooner had they disappeared,\nthan Takane heard a noise amongst the reeds behind her, and, looking\nround, she saw Masilo standing there.\n\n\"Oh, ho! Takane! you are mine at last! Guessed you not that this was my\ngrave, and that it was I who held you firmly to the ground, so that not\neven all your companions could raise you? Come now, for we must hasten,\nlest we be caught by your father's people. By the spirits of my fathers,\nI have sworn that you shall be my wife.\"\n\n\"But you yourself are a spirit. How, then, can you marry me, and what\nneed have you of a wife? Are you going to kill me even as you were\nkilled?\"\n\n\"True, I _was_ a spirit, but I am now a man, and you are my wife. Come,\nfor I tarry no longer.\" So saying, he seized her hand and began to run\nwith her away from their old home, while she, filled with superstitious\ndread, offered only slight resistance. On they ran, ever onward, all\nthrough the night and far into the new day. At length, utterly weary,\nTakane lay down, and refused to go any farther. All around them were\nstrange mountains and valleys, but no sign of human habitation. Here,\nthen, Masilo resolved to remain, and here he built his hut, with the aid\nof Takane, who, now that she was powerless to escape, became a happy and\ndevoted wife, obeying Masilo as even a wife should. Soon other wanderers\ncame to dwell near them, and ere many years passed Masilo was chief of a\nhappy, prosperous little village, and Takane the mother of sons and\ndaughters whose beauty made her heart glad.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nHOW KHOSI CHOSE A WIFE.\n\n\nIn the days of our fathers' fathers there lived a rich chief who had\nonly one wife, whom he loved so much that he would not take even one of\nthe beautiful daughters of the great chief to wife, not even when, after\nmany years, no child was born to them. \"I will wait,\" said the old\nchief, \"the spirits will relent before I die, for we will offer many\nsacrifices to them.\" Accordingly the best of the flocks and herds were\nsacrificed, and the woman found favour in the eyes of the gods, and a\ndaughter, beautiful as the morning, was born. So precious was this child\nin the eyes of her parents that they hid her from the sight of men,\nwrapping her in the skin of the crocodile, the sacred beast of the\npeople. Because of this the people called her \"Polomahache\" (the\ncrocodile scale), and very few believed in her beauty, for they thought\nshe must be deformed or terribly ugly to be hidden away under a covering\nalways; but the maiden grew in beauty and grace, until her parents felt\nthey must strive to find a youth worthy of her, if one was to be had\nupon the earth.\n\nNow the great chief had a son who was dearer to him than all his wives\nor his other children, or even his flocks and herds; a son tall and\nstraight as the spear, fleet of foot as the wild deer, and brave as the\nmighty lion of the mountains. This youth the people called Khosi, the\nfleet one.\n\nAt the time when Polomahache had become old enough to marry, Khosi had\nbegun to think of taking a wife, and had sent round to the neighbouring\nvillages requesting the people to send the prettiest girls for his\ninspection, naming a certain day upon which he would receive them. Upon\nthe day named, very early in the morning, Polomahache, enveloped in her\ncrocodile skin and accompanied by two female attendants, set out for\nKhosi's village. Many other damsels passed them with jest and laughter,\nbidding Polomahache remain at home, as her looks were enough to frighten\neven the bravest lover. Now the custom was that each damsel should wash\nin the pool below the village of the expectant bridegroom-elect;\naccordingly the pool below Khosi's village was soon thronged with merry,\nlaughing girls, who were quite unconscious of the fact that Khosi was\nhidden in the branches of a tree close by, from whence he could, unseen,\ninspect his would-be wives. While the other girls bathed, Polomahache\nremained quietly in the background, but when they had departed she\nstepped timidly down to the water's edge, where she stood hesitatingly,\nas if afraid to throw off her hideous covering. Khosi, upon seeing her,\nhid himself more securely in the tree, exclaiming, \"Ah! what wild beast\nhave we here? Surely she does not hope that I shall choose her?\"\n\n\"My child,\" said one of the attendants, \"why do you stand in fear? Know\nyou not that it is the custom of our tribe for the damsels to wash ere\nthey approach their master's house. Remove your covering, then, and be\nnot afraid, for we are alone.\"\n\nReluctantly Polomahache did so, and stepped into the clear, cold water,\nrevealing herself in all her beauty to the enraptured gaze of the\nspectator in the tree.\n\n\"Ha,\" exclaimed Khosi, \"what beauty, what eyes, what a face! She, and\nshe alone, shall be my bride.\" And he continued to gaze upon her until,\nher bathing completed, she once more enveloped herself in the crocodile\nskin and departed to the village, when Khosi descended from his\nhiding-place and returned by another path to his home.\n\nWhen all the maidens were assembled, Khosi, accompanied by his father\nand mother, came out from the hut and walked slowly along, carefully\nstudying each maid as he passed. Many bright glances were shot at him;\nmany maiden hearts fluttered in hopeful expectation; but one by one he\npassed them all until he came to little Polomahache, who had hidden\nherself away at the end of the row of maidens.\n\n\"Ho! h\u00e8la! what is this?\" exclaimed Khosi. \"Surely this is no maiden,\nbut some wild beast.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Chief Khosi,\" replied a gentle voice from behind the skin, \"I\nam but a poor maid who fears she cannot hope to find favour in the eyes\nof the Great One.\"\n\n\"Now truly, mother, this is the wife for me. Send all the other maidens\naway, for I will have none of them.\" So saying, Khosi turned and\nre-entered the hut. His mother trembled with rage, for she thought\nPolomahache had bewitched her son, so she followed him into the hut; but\nwhen she heard what he had to tell her, she promised to try to arrange\nthe marriage on condition that Khosi would manage to let her see\nPolomahache without the skin. Accordingly they arranged that Khosi was\nto see his bride alone, and if he could persuade her to throw off the\ncrocodile skin he was to clap three times as if in pleasure, and his\nmother would come in.\n\nWhen the sun was low in the heavens Khosi conducted Polomahache to his\nfather's hut, where at length he persuaded her to throw off the skin. As\nit fell to the ground he clapped three times, exclaiming, \"Oh! beautiful\nas the dawn is my beloved; her eyes are tender as the eyes of a deer;\nher voice is like many waters.\" As he spoke his mother entered, and\nbeing quite satisfied with the maiden's beauty, the marriage was soon\narranged, and Khosi and his beautiful bride dwelt long in happiness and\nprosperity in the land of their fathers.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nTHE VILLAGE MAIDEN AND THE CANNIBAL.\n\n\nThe village was starving, there was no running away from the fact; the\nmen's eyes were big and hungry-looking, and even the plumpest girl was\nthin. What was to be done? The maidens must go out to find roots.\nPerhaps the spirits would take pity on their starved looks and guide\nthem to where the roots grew; so early in the morning all the maidens,\nled by the chief's two daughters, left the village to seek for food; they\nwalked two by two, a maid and a little girl, side by side. Long they\njourneyed, and weary were their feet, yet they found nothing, and\ndarkness was creeping over the land. So they laid themselves down to\nrest under the Great Above, with no shelter or covering over them, to\nwait for the coming dawn. Next day as they journeyed, behold one of the\nchildren espied a root, another, and yet another, until all were busy\ndigging up the precious food. Now a strange thing happened, for, while\nthe maidens only found long thin roots, the children gathered only thick\nlarge ones. At length enough had been found to last the village for a\ntime, so the girls set off to return home. As they came near the river\nthey saw it was terribly flooded, and an old, old woman sat crooning\nupon the bank.\n\nAs they approached they began to distinguish the words she was\nchanting:--\n\n\n     \"The Water Spirit loves not the thin roots,\n     They are the food of swine--\n     There is no safety for them.\n     But the large root, how good it is--\n     It is the food of spirits, even of the\n     Great Water Spirit.\n     Safety and strength are in it;\n     The water flows on, flows on.\"\n\n\n\"Mother,\" said the elder of the chief's daughters, approaching the old\nwoman, \"tell us of your wisdom how we shall cross this swollen river,\nfor we are in haste to reach our home.\"\n\nWithout lifting her eyes from the water, the dame replied, \"To the\nswollen river a swollen root; in each maid's right hand a root that is\nlarge, then cross and fear not.\"\n\nAccordingly the girls chose their largest root, which they threw upon\nthe water, and then each child of her store of fat roots chose two; one\nshe gave to one of the elder maidens, the other she held in her own\nright hand, then two by two they stepped into the river and in safety\ngained the opposite bank. But when it came to the turn of the chief's two\ndaughters, the child refused to give her sister one of her large roots,\nnor were threats or entreaties of any avail. The night was fast\napproaching, their companions were almost out of sight, and the river\nrolled at their feet, dark, swift, and deep.\n\nAt length the child relented, and soon the two girls were speeding after\ntheir friends; but it was too dark to see, and they missed their road\nand wandered far in the darkness. When midnight was fast approaching\nthey saw a light shining near, and upon going up to it, found themselves\nat the door of a hut, over which a mat hung. \"Let us ask for shelter for\nthe night,\" said the elder girl, and shook the mat.\n\n\"Get up! get up! son of mine, and see if people are at the door; for I\nam hungry and would eat meat.\" The voice was that of a man, who was\nseated in front of some red-hot cinders in the middle of the hut.\n\nThe little boy ran to the door, and, upon seeing the two girls standing\nthere, implored them to run away at once, as his father was a cannibal\nand would eat them up; but before they had time to do so, the old man\nappeared and dragged them into the hut.\n\nEarly the next morning the old cannibal left the hut to call two of his\nfriends to share his feast. Before he left he securely fastened the two\ngirls together, and told his son to watch them carefully.\n\nNow, as soon as he was out of sight, there appeared at the door the old\nwoman who yesterday had been sitting on the river bank. She at once set\nthe girls free, but told them she must cut off all their hair. When this\nwas done, she took a little and buried it under the floor of the hut,\nanother bunch she buried under the refuse heap outside, another near the\nspring, and yet another half way up the hill. She then returned to the\nhut and burnt the remaining hair.\n\n\"Now, my children,\" said she, \"you must fly to your home. I shall follow\nyou under the ground, but your guide shall be a bee. Follow where it\nleads, and you will be safe.\" So saying, she led them to the door and\ndrew down the mat.\n\n\"Run!\" said the boy; \"make haste! There is the bee grandmother told you\nof. Follow quickly, lest my father find you and kill you.\"\n\nSeeing a bee hovering near, the girls followed where it led. Presently\nthey met two men, who stopped them, and asked, \"Who are you? Are you not\nthe two girls our friend has told us of? Did you not stay last night in\na hut with an old man and a boy?\"\n\n\"We know not of whom you speak,\" replied the girls. \"We have seen no old\nman, nor little boy.\"\n\n\"Ho, ho! is that true? But yes, we see it is true. He told us his\nvictims had plenty of hair, but you have none. No, no; these are not\nthey; these are only people.\" So saying, they allowed the girls to\ncontinue their journey.\n\nNow when the old man and his friends found the girls had escaped, they\nwere very angry; but the little boy said he did not think they could be\nvery far away. The old man went out and began calling, but, as he\ncalled, there answered him a voice from the hair under the hut, another\nvoice from the hair by the spring, another from the mountain, and so on\nfrom each spot where the old woman had buried the hair, until he became\nmad with rage and disappointment; then, guessing that witchcraft had\nbeen used, and that the two girls his friends had spoken to were indeed\nhis intended victims, he set off in pursuit; but when he caught sight of\nthem, they were almost at their father's village, and a large swarm of\nbees was between him and them, which, when he tried to overtake the\ngirls, stung him so terribly that he howled with agony, and dared not\napproach any nearer. Thus the girls escaped, and returned to bring the\nlight of day to their parents' eyes.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nMORONGOE THE SNAKE.\n\n\nMokete was a chief's daughter, but she was also beautiful beyond all the\ndaughters of her father's house, and Morongoe the brave and Tau the lion\nboth desired to possess her, but Tau found not favour in the eyes of her\nparents, neither desired she to be his wife, whereas Morongoe was rich\nand the son of a great chief, and upon him was Mokete bestowed in\nmarriage.\n\nBut Tau swore by all the evil spirits that their happiness should not\nlong continue, and he called to his aid the old witch doctor, whose\npower was greater than the tongue of man could tell; and one day\nMorongoe walked down to the water and was seen no more. Mokete wept and\nmourned for her brave young husband, to whom she had been wedded but ten\nshort moons, but Tau rejoiced greatly.\n\nWhen two more moons had waned, a son was born to Mokete, to whom she\ngave the name of Tsietse (sadness). The child grew and throve, and the\nyears passed by, but brought no news of Morongoe.\n\nOne day, when Tsietse was nearly seven years old, he cried unto his\nmother, saying, \"Mother, how is it that I have never seen my father? My\ncompanions see and know their fathers, and love them, but I alone know\nnot the face of my father, I alone have not a father's protecting love.\"\n\n\"My son,\" replied his mother, \"a father you have never known, for the\nevil spirits carried him from amongst us before ever you were born.\" She\nthen related to him all that had happened.\n\nFrom that day Tsietse played no more with the other boys, but wandered\nabout from one pool of water to another, asking the frogs to tell him of\nhis father.\n\nNow the custom of the Basuto, when any one falls into the water and is\nnot found, is to drive cattle into the place where the person is\nsupposed to have fallen, as they will bring him out. Many cattle had\nbeen driven into the different pools of water near Morongoe's village,\nbut as they had failed to bring his father, Tsietse knew it was not much\nuse looking near home. Accordingly, one day he went to a large pond a\nlong distance off, and there he asked the frogs to help him in his\nsearch. One old frog hopped close to the child, and said, \"You will find\nyour father, my son, when you have walked to the edge of the world and\ntaken a leap into the waters beneath; but he is no longer as you are,\nnor does he know of your existence.\"\n\nThis, at last, was the information Tsietse had longed for, now he could\nbegin his search in real earnest. For many days he walked on, and ever\non. At length, one day, just as the sun was setting, he saw before him a\nlarge sea of water of many beautiful colours. Stepping into it, he began\nto ask the same question; but at every word he uttered, the sea rose up,\nuntil at length it covered his head, and he began falling, falling\nthrough the deep sea. Suddenly he found himself upon dry ground, and\nupon looking round he saw flocks and herds, flowers and fruit, on every\nside. At first he was too much astonished to speak, but after a little\nwhile he went up to one of the herd boys and asked him if he had ever\nseen his (Tsietse's) father. The herd boy told him many strangers\nvisited that place, and he had better see the chief, who would be able\nto answer his question.\n\nWhen Tsietse had told his story to the chief, the old man knew at once\nthat the great snake which dwelt in their midst must be the child's\nfather; so, bidding the boy remain and rest, he went off to consult with\nthe snake as to how they should tell Tsietse the truth without\nfrightening him; but as they talked, Tsietse ran up to them, and, seeing\nthe snake, at once embraced it, for he knew it was his father.\n\nThen there was great joy in the heart of Morongoe, for he knew that by\nhis son's aid he should be able to overcome his enemy, and return at\nlength to his wife and home. So he told Tsietse how Tau had persuaded\nthe old witch doctor to turn him into a snake, and banish him to this\nworld below the earth. Soon afterwards Tsietse returned to his home, but\nhe was no longer a child, but a noble youth, with a brave, straight look\nthat made the wicked afraid. Very gently he told his mother all that had\nhappened to him, and how eager his father was to return to his home.\nMokete consulted an old doctor who lived in the mountain alone, and who\ntold her she must get Tsietse to bring his father to the village in the\nbrightness of the day-time, but that he must be so surrounded by his\nfollowers from the land beyond that none of his own people would be able\nto see him.\n\nQuickly the news spread through the village that Morongoe had been found\nby his son and was returning to his people.\n\nAt length Tsietse was seen approaching with a great crowd of followers,\nwhile behind them came all the cattle which had been driven into the\npools to seek Morongoe. As they approached Mokete's house the door\nopened and the old doctor stood upon the threshold.\n\nMaking a sign to command silence, he said:--\"My children, many years ago\nyour chief received a grievous wrong at the hand of his enemy, and was\nturned into a snake, but by the love and faithfulness of his son he is\nrestored to you this day, and the wiles of his enemy are made of no\naccount. Cover, then, your eyes, my children, lest the Evil Eye afflict\nyou.\"\n\nHe then bade the snake, which was in the centre of the crowd, enter the\nhut, upon which he shut the door, and set fire to the hut. The people,\nwhen they saw the flames, cried out in horror, but the old doctor bade\nthem be still, for that no harm would come to their chief, but rather a\ngreat good. When everything was completely burnt, the doctor took from\nthe middle of the ruins a large burnt ball; this he threw into the pool\nnear by, and lo! from the water up rose Morongoe, clad in a kaross, the\nbeauty of which was beyond all words, and carrying in his hand a stick\nof shining black, like none seen on this earth before, in beauty, or\ncolour, or shape. Thus was the spell broken through the devotion of a\ntrue son, and peace and happiness restored, not only to Mokete's heart,\nbut to the whole village.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nMORENA-Y-A-LETSATSI, OR THE SUN CHIEF.\n\n\nIn the time of the great famine, when our fathers' fathers were young,\nthere lived across the mountains, many days' journey, a great chief, who\nbore upon his breast the signs of the sun, the moon, and eleven stars.\nGreatly was he beloved, and marvellous was his power. When all around\nwere starving, his people had plenty, and many journeyed to his village\nto implore his protection. Amongst others came two young girls, the\ndaughters of one mother. Tall and lovely as a deep still river was the\nelder, gentle and timid as the wild deer, and her they called Siloane\n(the tear-drop.)\n\nOf a different mould was her sister Mokete. Plump and round were her\nlimbs, bright as the stars her eyes, like running water was the music of\nher voice, and she feared not man nor spirit. When the chief asked what\nthey could do to repay him for helping them in their need, Mokete\nreplied, \"Lord, I can cook, I can grind corn, I can make 'leting,' I can\ndo all a woman's work.\"\n\nGravely the chief turned to Siloane--\"And you,\" he asked, \"what can you\ndo?\"\n\n\"Alas, lord!\" Siloane replied, \"what can I say, seeing that my sister\nhas taken all words out of my mouth.\"\n\n\"It is enough,\" said the chief, \"you shall be my wife. As for Mokete,\nsince she is so clever, let her be your servant.\"\n\nNow the heart of Mokete burned with black hate against her sister, and\nshe vowed to humble her to the dust; but no one must see into her heart,\nso with a smiling face she embraced Siloane.\n\nThe next day the marriage feast took place, amidst great rejoicing, and\ncontinued for many days, as befitted the great Sun Chief. Many braves\ncame from far to dance at the feast, and to delight the people with\ntales of the great deeds they had done in battle. Beautiful maidens were\nthere, but none so beautiful as Siloane. How happy she was, how beloved!\nIn the gladness of her heart she sang a song of praise to her\nlord--\"Great is the sun in the heavens, and great are the moon and\nstars, but greater and more beautiful in the eyes of his handmaiden is\nmy lord. Upon his breast are the signs of his greatness, and by their\npower I swear to love him with a love so strong, so true, that his son\nshall be in his image, and shall bear upon his breast the same tokens of\nthe favour of the heavens.\"\n\nMany moons came and went, and all was peace and joy in the hearts of the\nSun Chief and his bride; but Mokete smiled darkly in her heart, for the\ntime of her revenge approached. At length came the day, when Siloane\nshould fulfil her vow, when the son should be born. The chief ordered\nthat the child should be brought to him at once, that he might rejoice\nin the fulfilment of Siloane's vow. In the dark hut the young mother lay\nwith great content, for had not Mokete assured her the child was his\nfather's image, and upon his breast were the signs of the sun, the moon,\nand eleven stars?\n\nWhy then this angry frown on the chief's face, this look of triumph in\nthe eyes of Mokete? What is this which she is holding covered with a\nskin? She turns back the covering, and, with a wicked laugh of triumph,\nshows the chief, not the beautiful son he had looked for, but an ugly,\ndeformed child with the face of a baboon. \"Here, my lord,\" she said, \"is\nthe long-desired son. See how well Siloane loves you, see how well she\nhas kept her vow! Shall I tell her of your heart's content?\"\n\n\"Woman,\" roared the disappointed chief, \"speak not thus to me. Take from\nmy sight both mother and child, and tell my headman it is my will that\nthey be destroyed ere the sun hide his head in yonder mountains.\"\n\nSore at heart, angry and unhappy, the chief strode away into the lands,\nwhile Mokete hastened to the headman to bid him carry out his master's\norders; but ere they could be obeyed, a messenger came from the chief to\nsay the child alone was to be destroyed, but Siloane should become a\nservant, and on the morrow should witness his marriage to Mokete.\n\nBitter tears rolled down Siloane's cheeks. What evil thing had befallen\nher, that the babe she had borne, and whom she had felt in her arms,\nstrong and straight, should have been so changed ere the eyes of his\nfather had rested upon him? Not once did she doubt Mokete. Was she not\nher own sister? What reason would she have for casting the \"Evil Eye\"\nupon the child? It was hard to lose her child, hard indeed to lose the\nlove of her lord; but he had not banished her altogether from his sight,\nand perhaps some day the spirits might be willing that she should once\nagain find favour in his sight, and should bear him a child in his own\nimage.\n\nMeanwhile Mokete had taken the real baby to the pigs, hoping they would\ndevour him, for each time she tried to kill him some unseen power held\nher hand; but the pigs took the babe and nourished him, and many weeks\nwent by--weeks of triumph for Mokete, but of bitter sorrow for Siloane.\n\nAt length Mokete bethought her of the child, and wondered if the pigs\nhad left any trace of him. When she reached the kraal, she started back\nin terror, for there, fat, healthy, and happy, lay the babe, while the\nyoung pigs played around him. What should she do? Had Siloane seen him?\nNo, she hardly thought so, for the child was in every way the image of\nthe chief. Siloane would at once have known who he was.\n\nHurriedly returning to her husband, Mokete begged him to get rid of all\nthe pigs, and have their kraal burnt, as they were all ill of a terrible\ndisease. So the chief gave orders to do as Mokete desired; but the\nspirits took the child to the elephant which lived in the great bush,\nand told it to guard him.\n\nAfter this Mokete was at peace for many months, but no child came to\ngladden the heart of her lord, and to take away her reproach. In her\nanger and bitterness she longed to kill Siloane, but she was afraid.\n\nOne day she wandered far into the bush, and there she beheld the child,\ngrown more beautiful than ever, playing with the elephant. Mad with\nrage, she returned home, and gave her lord no rest until he consented to\nburn the bush, which she told him was full of terrible wild beasts,\nwhich would one day devour the whole village if they were not destroyed.\nBut the spirits took the child and gave him to the fishes in the great\nriver, bidding them guard him safely.\n\nMany moons passed, many crops were reaped and Mokete had almost\nforgotten about the child, when one day, as she walked by the river\nbank, she saw him, a beautiful youth, playing with the fishes. This was\nterrible. Would nothing kill him? In her rage she tore great rocks from\ntheir beds and rolled them into the water; but the spirits carried the\nyouth to a mountain, where they gave him a wand. \"This wand,\" said they,\n\"will keep you safe. If danger threatens you from above, strike once\nwith the wand upon the ground, and a path will be opened to you to the\ncountry beneath. If you wish to return to this upper world, strike twice\nwith the wand, and the path will reopen.\"\n\nSo again they left him, and the youth, fearing the vengeance of his\nstepmother, struck once upon the ground with his wand. The earth opened,\nshowing a long narrow passage. Down this the youth went, and, upon\nreaching the other end, found himself at the entrance to a large and\nvery beautiful village. As he walked along, the people stood to gaze at\nhim, and all, when they saw the signs upon his breast, fell down and\nworshipped him, saying, \"Greetings, lord!\" At length, he was informed\nthat for many years these people had had no chief, but the spirits had\ntold them that at the proper time a chief would appear who should bear\nstrange signs upon his breast; him the people were to receive and to\nobey, for he would be the chosen one, and his name should be Tsepitso,\nor the promise.\n\nFrom that day the youth bore the name of Tsepitso, and ruled over that\nland; but he never forgot his mother, and often wandered to the world\nabove, to find how she fared and to watch over her. On these journeys he\nalways clothed himself in old skins, and covered up his breast that none\nmight behold the signs. One day, as he wandered, he found himself in a\nstrange village, and as he passed the well, a maiden greeted him,\nsaying, \"Stranger, you look weary. Will you not rest and drink of this\nfountain?\"\n\nTsepitso gazed into her eyes, and knew what love meant. Here, he felt,\nwas the wife the spirits intended him to wed. He must not let her\ndepart, so he sat down by the well and drank of the cool, delicious\nwater, while he questioned the maid. She told him her name was Ma Thabo\n(mother of joy), and that her father was chief of that part of the\ncountry. Tsepitso told her he was a poor youth looking for work,\nwhereupon she took him to her father, who consented to employ him.\n\nOne stipulation Tsepitso made, which was that for one hour every day\nbefore sunset he should be free from his duties. This was agreed to, and\nfor several moons he worked for the old chief, and grew more and more\nin favour, both with him and with his daughter. The hour before sunset\neach day he spent amongst his own people, attending to their wants and\ngiving judgment. At length he told Ma Thabo of his love, and read her\nanswering love in her beautiful eyes. Together they sought the old\nchief, to whom Tsepitso told his story, and revealed his true self. The\nmarriage was soon after celebrated, with much rejoicing, and Tsepitso\nbore his bride in triumph to his beautiful home in the world beneath,\nwhere she was received with every joy.\n\nBut amidst all his happiness Tsepitso did not forget his mother, and\nafter the feasting and rejoicing were ended, he took Ma Thabo with him,\nfor the time had at length come when he might free his mother for ever\nfrom the power of Mokete.\n\nWhen they approached his father's house, Mokete saw them, and,\nrecognising Tsepitso, knew that her time had come. With a scream she\nfled to the hut, but Tsepitso followed her, and sternly demanded his\nmother. Mokete only moaned as she knelt at her lord's feet. The old\nchief arose, and said, \"Young man, I know not who you are, nor who your\nmother is; but this woman is my wife, and I pray you speak to her not\nthus rudely.\"\n\nTsepitso replied, \"Lord, I am thy son.\"\n\n\"Nay now, thou art a liar,\" said the old man sadly, \"I have no son.\"\n\n\"Indeed, my father, I am thy son, and Siloane is my mother. Dost need\nproof of the truth of my words? Then look,\" and turning to the light,\nTsepitso revealed to his father the signs upon his breast, and the old\nchief, with a great cry, threw himself upon his son's neck and wept.\nSiloane was soon called, and knew that indeed she had fulfilled her vow,\nthat here before her stood in very truth the son she had borne, and a\ngreat content filled her heart. Tsepitso and Ma Thabo soon persuaded her\nto return with them, knowing full well that her life would no longer be\nsafe were she to remain near Mokete; so, when the old chief was absent,\nin the dusk of the evening they departed to their own home.\n\nWhen the Sun Chief discovered their flight, he determined to follow, and\nrestore his beloved Siloane to her rightful place; but Mokete followed\nhim, though many times he ordered her to return to the village, for that\nnever again would she be wife of his, and that if she continued to\nfollow him, he would kill her. At length he thought, \"If I cut off her\nfeet she will not be able to walk,\" so, turning round suddenly, he\nseized Mokete, and cut off her feet. \"Now, wilt thou leave me in peace,\nwoman? Take care nothing worse befall thee.\" So saying, he left her,\nand continued his journey.\n\nBut Mokete continued to follow him, till the sun was high in the\nheavens. Each time he saw her close behind him, he stopped and cut off\nmore of her legs, till only her body was left; even then she was not\nconquered, but continued to roll after him. Thoroughly enraged, the Sun\nChief seized her, and called down fire from the heavens to consume her,\nand a wind from the edge of the world to scatter her ashes.\n\nWhen this was done, he went on his way rejoicing, for surely now she\nwould trouble him no more. Then as he journeyed, a voice rose in the\nevening air, \"I follow, I follow, to the edge of the world, yea, even\nbeyond, shall I follow thee.\"\n\nPlacing his hands over his ears to shut out the voice, the Sun Chief ran\nwith the fleetness of a young brave, until, at the hour when the spirits\nvisit the abodes of men, he overtook Tsepitso and the two women, and\nwith them entered the kingdom of his son.\n\nHow he won pardon from Siloane, and gained his son's love, and how it\nwas arranged that he and Siloane should again be married, are old tales\nnow in the country of Tsepitso. When the marriage feast was begun, a\ncloud of ashes dashed against the Sun Chief, and an angry voice was\nheard from the midst of the cloud, saying, \"Nay, thou shalt not wed\nSiloane, for I have found thee, and I shall claim thee for ever.\"\nHastily the witch doctor was called to free the Sun Chief from the power\nof Mokete. As the old man approached the cloud, chanting a hymn to the\ngods, every one gazed in silence. Raising his wand, the wizard made some\nmystic signs, the cloud vanished, and only a handful of ashes lay upon\nthe ground.\n\nThus was the Evil Eye of Mokete stilled for evermore, and peace reigned\nin the hearts of the Sun Chief and his wife Siloane.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nHOW RA-MOLO BECAME A SNAKE.\n\n\nLong, long ago, before the time of the great chief Mosheshue, there\nlived, behind the mountains, a wicked chief called Ra-Molo (the father\nof fire), who ruled his people with the hand of hardness. His village\nlay at the foot of a high hill, and down below flowed the Sinkou, deep\nand dark and cold. Every year, when the harvest feasts began, would\nRa-Molo cause to die the black death all those upon whom his displeasure\nhad fallen during the past year; and when the moon was big in the\nheavens, he would come out from his dwelling to gaze upon his victims,\nand to listen to their screams of agony. Many, many times have the cries\nof the poor unfortunates echoed from rock to rock, while the people hid\ntheir heads in their blankets and trembled with fear and horror.\n\nWhen the last feeble moans died away, the chief would return to his\ndwelling, and a great silence would descend upon the village. Then\nsoftly, by ones and by twos, the frightened people would creep away to\nsome quiet spot out of sight of the village, and there offer up their\nprayers to the spirits of their fathers to rescue them from Ra-Molo;\nbut for many many moons no help came.\n\nDespair seized upon their hearts and hung in darkness over their homes.\nWhat hope was there for them when even the spirits were silent?\n\nNow Ra-Molo had a brother who bore the name of Tau (the lion). This\nbrother Ra-Molo hated with a great and bitter hatred, and gladly would\nhe have put him to death, but he feared the vengeance of the spirits,\nfor Tau was as brave and good as Ra-Molo was wicked and cruel. Then also\nhe knew that all the people loved Tau, and would flee from the one who\nmurdered him, as from the Evil Eye itself.\n\nAt length the evil counsels of the 'Ngaka (witch doctor) and the desire\nof Ra-Molo's heart overcame all fears, and one night, when the silence\nof sleep had come down upon the village, Ra-Molo called his 'Ngaka to\nbring his followers, and to enter the dwelling of Tau and put him to\ndeath.\n\nThe 'Ngaka needed no urging to begin his vile work. His heart glowed\nwith delight as he thought of what a big strong man Tau was, and how\nlong it would take him to die. Soon the whole village was aroused by the\nshrieks which the torturers extracted from the helpless victim. \"Help,\noh, help me, my brothers!\" cried Tau, \"lest I die, and my blood stain\nthe hands of my father's son.\" They strove to rescue him, but the hut\nwas well guarded, and their chief stood in the doorway, and forbade them\nto enter, using many threats to frighten them.\n\nWhen the grey shadow in mercy came down to end his sufferings, Tau\nraised his eyes to the stars, and cried, \"Oh, spirits of my fathers,\nreceive me, and bring down upon Ra-Molo the heavy hand of vengeance,\nthat his power may be destroyed, and no more innocent blood be spilled\nupon the earth to cry to the spirits. Oh, let my cry be heard, because\nof my great suffering!\" So saying, he passed to the land of shadows, and\na great darkness descended upon the village. All the people crept\ntogether and waited in tears for the dawn. At length the sun came forth,\nthe darkness was lifted up; but what awful horror now held the people?\nWhat was that towards which all eyes were turned? Behold! at the door of\nthe chief's dwelling lay a gigantic snake, so great that his like had\nnever before been seen. Slowly he uncoiled himself and raised his head,\nwhen a wild cry went up from all the people. The body was the body of a\nsnake, but the head was the head of a sheep, with a snake's tongue,\nwhich darted in and out from its wide open mouth, while from the eyes\nthe lightning flew. With a long loud hiss-s-s the thing began to crawl\ntowards the river bank, then, raising its head to cast one long backward\nglance upon the village, it plunged into the waters of the Sinkou,\nthere to remain a prisoner for all time. The spirits had, indeed, heard\nthe dying cry of Tau, and had turned Ra-Molo into the awful thing the\npeople had just beheld.\n\nOnce in each year, as the day comes round, does Ra-Molo rise to the\nsurface of the giant pool, where he lies hid, and woe, woe to the one\nwho sees the silver flash of his great body as he rises, for surely will\nthat poor one be drawn by the power of those evil eyes down, down to the\nwater's edge. Then will the serpent seize him and carry him away from\nthe sight of men to the bottom of the pool, there to sleep cold and\nstill till all men shall be gathered to the land of the spirits of their\nfathers on the day when the Great Spirit shall call from the stars.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nLELIMO AND THE MAGIC CAP.\n\n\nOnce long ago, when giants dwelt upon the earth, there lived in a little\nvillage, far up in the mountains, a woman who had the power of making\nmagic caps. When her daughter Siloane grew old enough to please the eyes\nof men, her mother made her a magic cap. \"Keep this cap safely, my\nchild, for it will protect you from the power of Lelimo (the giant). If\nyou lose it, he will surely seize you and carry you away to his dwelling\nin the mountains, where he and his children will eat you.\"\n\nSiloane promised to be very careful, and for a long time always carried\nthe magic cap with her whenever she went beyond the village.\n\nNow it was the custom each year for the maidens of the village to go to\na certain spot, where the \"tuani\" or long rushes grew, there to gather\ngreat bundles with which to make new mats for the floors of the houses.\nWhen the time came, Siloane and many more maidens set out for the place.\nThe distance was great, and as they must reach their destination at the\nrising of the sun, they set off from the village at midnight.\n\nJust as the sun rose from sleep, the maidens arrived at the graves on\nwhich the rushes grew. Soon all were busy cutting rushes and making\nmats. Siloane laid down her cap on one of the graves by which she was\nworking. All day the maidens worked, and at sunset they started on their\nhomeward journey. Soon the moon arose and lighted the land, and the\nlight-hearted maidens went gaily singing on their way.\n\nWhen they had gone some way, Siloane suddenly remembered she had left\nthe magic cap on the grave where she had been sitting. Afraid to face\nher mother without it, she asked her companions to wait for her while\nshe hurried back to fetch it.\n\nLong the maidens waited, amusing themselves by telling stories and\nsinging songs in the moonlight, but Siloane returned not. At length two\ngirls set out to look for her, but when they reached the spot, no trace\nof her was to be found. Great was their dismay. How could they tell the\nnews to her parents? Still there was nothing else to be done, and, with\nheavy hearts, they all returned to the village.\n\nWhen Ma-Batu, the mother of Siloane, heard their story, she immediately\nset to work to make another magic cap, which she gave to her younger\ndaughter Sieng, telling her to have it always by her, in case Siloane\nshould need her help.\n\nMeanwhile, Siloane had been taken captive by the giant as she was\nmaking her way back to recover her magic cap. When she felt Lelimo's\nheavy hand on her shoulder, she struggled frantically to get away, but\nher strength was as water against such a man, and he soon had her\nsecurely tied up in his big bag, made out of the skin of an ox.\n\nNow when Lelimo saw Siloane, he was returning from a feast, and was very\ndrunk, so that he mistook his way, and wandered long and far, until, in\nthe morning, he came to a large hut, where he threw down the sack\ncontaining Siloane, and demanded a drink of the woman who stood in the\ndoor. She gave him some very strong \"juala\" (beer), which made him more\ndrunk than before. While he was drinking, Siloane called softly from the\nsack, for she had recognised her mother's voice talking to the giant,\nand knew that he had brought her in some wonderful way to her father's\nhouse. Again she called, and this time her sister heard her, and\nhastened to undo the sack. She then hid Siloane, and, by the aid of the\nmagic cap, she filled the sack with bees and wasps and closed it firmly.\nWhen the giant came out from the hut, he picked up the sack and started\nfor his own home. On his arrival there he again threw down the sack, and\nordered his wife to kill and cook the captive girl he imagined he had\nbrought home. His wife began to feel the sack in order to find out how\nbig the girl was, but the bees became angry and stung her through the\nsack, which frightened her, and she refused to open it. Thereupon Lelimo\ncalled his son, but he also refused. In a great rage, the giant turned\nthem both out of the house, and closed all the openings. He then made a\ngreat fire, and prepared to roast the girl.\n\nWhen he opened the sack, the bees and wasps, who were by this time\nthoroughly furious, swarmed upon him, and stung him till he howled with\nagony, and, mad with pain, he broke down the door of the hut and rushed\ndown to the river, into which he flung himself head first. In this\nposition he was afterwards found by his wife, his feet resting on a rock\nabove the water, his head buried in the mud of the river.\n\nSuch was the end of this wicked giant, who had been the terror of that\npart of the country for many, many years.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nTHE CHIEF AND THE TIGERS.\n\n\nThere lived long ago a chief whose wife was beautiful as the morning\nsun. Dear was she to the heart of her lord, and great was his sorrow\nwhen she grew sick. Many doctors and wise women tried to cure her, but\nin vain. Worse and worse she grew, till the people said she would surely\ndie, and the heart of the chief became as water within him.\n\nOne day, as the shadows grew long on the ground, an old, old man came\nslowly to the village, and asked to see the chief. \"Morena (Master),\" he\nsaid, \"I have heard of your trouble, and have come to help you. Your\nwife is ill of a great sickness, and she will die unless you can get a\ntiger's heart with which to make medicine for her to drink. See, I have\nhere a wonderful stone which will help you, and some medicine for you to\ndrink. Now wrap yourself in a tiger-skin. The medicine will make you\nwise to understand and to speak their tongue; so shall they look upon\nyou as a brother. When you have drunk the medicine, take the stone in\nyour hand, and set out on your journey. When you come to the home of the\ntigers, you must live among them as one of themselves, until you can\nfind yourself alone with one. Him must you quickly kill, and tear from\nhis warm body his heart unbroken, and then, throwing away your tiger\nskin, you must flee to your home. The tigers will chase you, but when\nthey come too near, you must throw down the stone in front of you and\njump upon it, when it will become a great rock, from whose sides fire\nwill dart forth, and burn any who try to climb it. Thus will you be\nsaved from the power of the tigers, and your wife be restored to\nhealth.\"\n\nGratefully the chief did as the old man desired, and set off to seek the\nhome of the tigers. Many days he wandered across the plains and over the\nmountains, into the unknown valleys beyond, and there he found those he\nsought. They greeted him joyfully, welcoming him as a brother; only one,\na young tiger of great beauty, held back, and muttered, \"This is no\ntiger but a man. He will bring misfortune upon us. Slay him, my\nbrothers, ere it be too late;\" but they heeded him not. Not many days\nhad passed, when all the tigers scattered themselves over the valley,\nand the chief found himself alone with the angry young tiger. Watching\nhim patiently, he soon found the opportunity he sought, and, hastily\nkilling him, he tore the still warm heart from the lifeless body, and\nthrowing off his disguise, set off towards his home.\n\nOn, on he went, and still no sign of the tigers, but, as the sun sank\nto rest, they appeared in the distance, and he knew they would soon\novertake him. When they were so close behind him that he heard the angry\nsnap of their teeth, he threw down the stone the old man had given him,\nand sprang on to it. Instantly it became a great rock, even as the old\nman had said. Up came the tigers, each striving to be the first to tear\nthe heart out of the chief, even as he had torn out their brother's\nheart; but the first one that reached the rock, sprang back with a howl\nof agony, and rolled over on his side--dead. The others all drew up in\nalarm, and dared not approach the stone, but spent many hours in\nwandering round and round the rock, and grinding their teeth at the\nchief, who calmly watched them from his seat on the top of the rock.\n\nJust before dawn the tigers, now thoroughly tired, lay down, and soon\nwere fast asleep. Carefully, silently, the chief crawled down from the\nrock, which immediately became again a small stone. Taking the stone in\nhis hand, and holding close the precious heart, which was to restore his\nwife to health, he fled like a deer towards his village, which he now\nsaw in the plain below. Should he reach it before the tigers caught him?\nThe perspiration streamed from his body, his ears rang with strange\nnoises, and his breath came in great gasps, but still he hurried on.\nPresently he heard the tigers coming. There was no time even to look\nbehind. He _must_ reach the village before they overtook him. On, on,\nstumbling blindly over every obstacle, he staggered. How far away it\nstill looked! Would his people _never_ see him? Yes, at last he is seen.\nHe can hear the shout of his men as they rush to help him, only a few\nmore steps now, and he is safe. Bravely he totters on, then stumbles and\nfalls helpless, exhausted, as his men arrive, and carry him in triumph\ninto the village, while the tigers, baffled and furious, retreat to\ntheir home beyond the mountains.\n\nWith song and dance the people keep festival, for their chief has\nreturned in safety, and his beautiful wife, restored to perfect health,\nsits smiling by his side, to receive the loving congratulations of old\nand young; but the old man came not to join the throng, nor was he ever\nseen in their land again. Quietly as he came, he had gone, leaving no\nsign behind him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nTHE MAID AND HER SNAKE-LOVER.\n\n\nWhen our fathers' fathers were children, there lived in the valley of\nthe rivers two chiefs, who governed their people wisely and with great\nkindness. The name of the one was Mopeli, and of the other Khosi.\n\nNow Mopeli had a son whom he loved as his own heart, a youth, tall and\nbrave, and fearless as the young lion. To him was given the name of\nTsiu. When Tsiu was able to stand alone, and to play on the mat in front\nof his father's dwelling, a daughter was born unto the chief Khosi, to\nwhom was given the name of Tebogo. The years passed, and Tsiu and Tebogo\ngrew and thrived. Often the youth drove his father's cattle down towards\nthe lands where Tebogo and her father's maidens worked, and many happy\ndays were spent, while the love each bore the other grew and\nstrengthened, even as they themselves grew older.\n\nWhen the time came for Tsiu to take a wife, he went to his father and\nasked that Tebogo might be given him, for none other could he wed.\nGladly the parents consented, and preparations were made for the\nwedding.\n\nNow Tebogo had another lover, upon whom she looked with scorn, but who\nhad vowed that never, never should she be the bride of Tsiu; so he\nconsulted a witch doctor, who promised to aid him. Imagine then his joy\nwhen, ere the wedding feast had begun, he heard that Tsiu had\ndisappeared. \"Now,\" thought he, \"Tebogo shall be mine;\" but the maiden\nturned from him in anger, nor would her parents listen to his suit.\n\nMeanwhile desolation hung over the home of the chief Mopeli. \"My son, my\nson,\" cried the unhappy father; but no voice replied, no son came back\nto rejoice his father's heart.\n\nWhen the moon had once more grown great in the heavens, an old man came\nto the village of Mopeli, and called the chief to him. Long they talked,\nand greatly the people wondered. At length they arose, and, saluting\neach other, parted at the door of the chief's dwelling. Mopeli then\ndeparted for the village of Chief Khosi, where he remained all night.\nThe next day he returned to his own village, and bade his people prepare\na great feast.\n\nIn the village of the Chief Khosi, also, much wonder filled the people's\nminds, for they, likewise, were commanded to make ready a marriage\nfeast, for the chief's daughter, the lovely Tebogo, was about to be\nmarried, but none knew to whom.\n\nCalling his daughter to him, Khosi said, \"My child, your lover Tsiu has\nbeen taken from you, so it is my wish that you should marry one who has\nfound favour in my eyes.\"\n\n\"Tell me, my father,\" replied Tebogo, \"who is the man you have chosen\nfor me? Let me at least know his name.\"\n\n\"Nay, my child, that I cannot do,\" answered Khosi, and with this the\nmaiden was obliged to be content. Behold then her horror when she was\nbrought forth to meet her bridegroom, to find not a man, but a snake.\nAll the people cried \"shame\" upon the parents who could be so cruel as\nto wed their daughter to a reptile.\n\nWith cries and tears Tebogo implored her parents to spare her; in vain\nwere her entreaties. She was told to take her reptile husband home to\nthe new hut which had been built for them, near the large pool where the\ncattle drank. Tremblingly she obeyed, followed by her maidens, the snake\ncrawling by her side. When she entered the hut, she tried to shut out\nthe snake, but it darted half its body through the door, and so\nterrified her that she ran to the other end of the hut.\n\nThe snake followed, and began lashing her with its tail, till she ran\nout of the hut down to the clump of willows which grew by the side of\nthe pool. Here she found an old doctor sitting, and to him she told her\ntrouble. \"My daughter,\" he said, \"return to your hut. Do not let the\nsnake see you, but close the door very softly from the outside, and set\nfire to the hut. When it is all burnt down, you will find the ashes of\nthe snake lying in a little heap in the centre of the hut. Bring them\nhere, and cast them into the water.\"\n\nTebogo did as the old doctor directed her, and while the hut was\nburning, many people ran from both the villages to see what had\nhappened; but Tebogo called to them to keep away, as she was burning the\nsnake. When all was destroyed, she went up, took the ashes of the snake,\nwhich she found in the middle of the ruins, and, putting them into a\npitcher, ran with them down to the pool and threw them in. No sooner had\nshe done so, than from the water arose, not a snake, but her lover Tsiu.\nWith a joyful cry, she flung herself into his arms, and a great shout\nwent up from all the people gathered there.\n\nAs the lightning darts across the heaven, so the news of Tsiu's return\nspread from hut to hut, and great was the people's wonderment. The story\nof how he had been turned into a snake, and banished to the pool, until\nhe could find a maiden whose parents would bestow her upon him in\nmarriage, and of how the good old doctor Into had revealed the secret\nto Mopeli, was soon told. For many days there was feasting and\nmerry-making in the homes of Mopeli the chief and of Khosi, while in\nthe hearts of Tsiu and his bride Tebogo there dwelt a great content; but\nthe wicked lover fled to the mountains, where he cherished a bitter\nhatred in his heart against Tebogo and her husband, and longed for the\ntime when he could be revenged.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTHE FAMINE.\n\n\nIn the years when the locusts visited the lands of the chief Makaota,\nand devoured all the food, the people grew thin and ill from starvation,\nand many of them died. When their food was all gone, they wandered in\nthe lands and up the mountains, searching for roots upon which to feed.\nNow as they searched, Mamokete, the wife of the Chief Makoata, chanced\nto wander near some bushes, when suddenly she heard the most exquisite\nsinging. She stopped to listen, but could see nothing. So she walked up\nto the bushes and looked in, and there she saw the most beautiful bird\nshe had ever seen. \"Oh! ho! little bird,\" she cried, \"help me, for I and\nmy husband and children are starving. Our cattle are all dead, and we\nknow not where to find food.\"\n\n\"Take me,\" sang the bird, \"and I will be your food. Keep me safely,\nguard me well, and you shall never starve as long as I remain with you.\"\n\nThankfully the poor woman took the bird and hurried home with it. She\nplaced it in an earthen pitcher and went to call her husband. When they\nreturned, they opened the pitcher to look at the bird, when lo! milk\npoured from the mouth of the pitcher, and the hungry people drank. How\ntheir hearts rejoiced over the gift which had been given them!\n\nOne day Makaota and his wife were going out to the lands to work, but\nbefore leaving they called their children, and bade them be good, and\nguard the pitcher well. The children promised to obey, but soon began to\nquarrel. Each wished to drink out of the pitcher first, and in their\ngreediness they upset and broke the pitcher, and the bird flew out of\nthe open door. Terrified at what they had done, the children ran after\nit; but when they got outside, there was no sign of the beautiful bird.\nIt had completely vanished.\n\nWhat grief now filled their hearts and the hearts of Makaota and\nMamokete his wife! Hunger seized once more upon them, and despair filled\ntheir hearts. Day by day they sought the wonderful bird, but found her\nnot. At length, when the two children lay sick for want of food, and the\nparents' hearts were heavy with grief, there came again the wonderful\nsinging, borne upon the evening wind. Nearer and nearer it came, and\nthen, lo! at the open door stood the lovely bird.\n\n\"I have come back,\" she said, \"because the punishment has been enough.\nTake me, and your house shall prosper.\"\n\nGladly they took the beautiful bird in their hands, and vowed never\nagain to let anger and greed drive her away from them; and so their\nhouse did thrive, even as the bird had said, and peace and plenty dwelt\nnot only in the house of Makaota, but in the whole village for ever\nafter.\n\n\nROBERT STOCKWELL,\nPrinter,\nBADEN PLACE, CROSBY ROW, BOROUGH,\nLONDON, S.E.","title":"Basutoland: Its Legends and Customs","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":39700}