On entering this chief's territory from the south, that is from Kanya
and Masepa, the country is undulating and densely wooded with trees and
bush, the road stony and uneven. Approaching Molapololo, Sechele's
chief town, a long range of lofty hills comes in view, and as you near
them a bold outline presenting many perpendicular and lofty cliffs,
which gain in magnitude as you advance along the road with your waggon,
passing between many Kaffir gardens. This range reminded me very
forcibly of the Devonshire coast-line at Bolthead, and requires a short
description to make more clear the general outline, as in no other
region I have visited is there so singular a mountain, and one that
conveys so plainly to the mind the history of remote times, and which
appears so little changed from what it was at that period.
On leaving the low and level country to enter Molapololo, the entrance
is in a break of these hills, which rise from their base several hundred
feet. In this opening is the remains of a considerable river. On
passing through this entrance, which is about 250 yards wide, we come
into an open space, surrounded by lofty hills, with an opening on the
west side where this ancient river enters from the Kalahara desert,
passing through this open space and through the entrance just described.
On the east side of this open space is another entrance, flanked with
lofty and almost perpendicular cliffs. The open space itself is about
half a mile both ways, of an irregular shape, and has every appearance
of being at one time a splendid harbour, with two entrances, surrounded
by lofty hills, leaving the opening on the west side, where the once
ancient river passed in between a narrow opening of light sandstone
rocks. The soil of this open space is clear light sand, and is now
occupied by several hundred native huts, and is also the residence of
the missionary, the Rev. Mr. Price, of the London Missionary Society,
and also traders who have six stores. The outer face of the range of
hills above-named that faces the south, present a bold and perpendicular
front many hundred feet in height, half-way down; then it slopes at an
angle of fifty-five to the foot, which is the accumulation of soil
fallen from the upper cliffs; at the base a level sandy space of some
hundred feet, clear of bush, similar to our sea-coast sands; and beyond
for thirty miles the country is almost level, but thickly wooded. The
principal formation of these hills is sandstone, the stratification is
almost horizontal, but dips towards the north. The entrance on the
eastern side is most interesting, and showing the action of the sea on
the outer face of the lofty cliffs, which were exposed to its force.
Half-way up one of the faces, 400 feet above the base, is a large cave
extending some distance into the hill; the entrance is shaped like the
portal of a castle, with perpendicular sides fifty feet wide and seventy
feet in height, the rock round and smooth on both sides of the entrance.
The interior has several chambers, similar in form to many caverns
along the rocky shores in various parts of the world formed by the
action of the waves. The land-face of this ancient harbour, the hill,
rises 400 feet at an angle of 30 degrees. On the summit is another
extensive level space, surrounded on the west and east by lofty rocks;
the north is open to the level country beyond. On this open ground the
main portion of the town of Molapololo is situated, and the residence of
the chief Sechele, who has two well-built houses furnished after
European fashion: an entrance-hall, fitted up with weapons of war, a
dining and drawing-room, bedrooms and offices, sideboards, tables,
chairs, with the usual glasses, decanters, silver stands, and such
things as are required in a dining-room. The drawing-room has sofas and
lounging-chairs, pictures, and everything nice--quite as comfortable as
any house I have ever been in in South Africa, except in the principal
towns in the colony. Sechele dresses well in English clothes, and his
eldest son, Sebele, is also a well-dressed, handsome Kaffir. In 1866,
when I first saw Sechele, he was not so particular in his dress, and
most of his people had skin dresses; now many wear English clothes of
the best quality. I am describing now the state of the natives in 1880,
my last visit. But now since the Transvaal has been handed back to the
Boers, trade has become paralysed and little or nothing is doing with
the colony, as the Transvaal Boers have closed all the interior roads,
and not only done so, but robbed and burnt traders' waggons on their way
to the interior, and driven the traders out of Montsioa's and
Monkuruan's territories, and by their lawless acts have devastated the
country.
At my last visit but one, in 1877, I was received with great kindness,
and as an old friend, by Sechele, who had on former occasions shown me
great kindness and hospitality. I arrived at the town on Sunday
afternoon, the 1st of September, after suffering much from want of
water, and bad grass, since leaving Masepa. I called on the Rev. Mr.
J. Moffat, and then returned to my waggon, where I found Sechele's
brother, who had been sent by his chief, inviting me up to see him. On
Monday morning I walked up to his house; he was sitting in his kotla
with his councillors, then stood up, shook hands, took my arm without
speaking, and walked to his house, a few steps from the kotla, as the
enclosure is called where he and his councillors transact business, and
took me into his drawing-room, seated me beside him on the sofa, still
holding my hand, and ordered coffee. After giving him the particulars
of my journey and the news of the country, he asked me to take dinner
with him, and was pleased to see me. The table was laid similar to any
white man's--stewed beef and pumpkins, Kaffir beer, for which he is
famous. Then had I to listen to all his troubles respecting the chief
Linsey, who lives at Kgamanyane or Motsode, a station forty-two miles on
the east of Molapololo, who had robbed him of all his cattle, and he was
now a poor man. Having examined some papers he placed in my hands, I
gave him an outline of my journey to the Matabeleland, and left him with
a promise to see him on my return from up-country, to give the news.
Such is the chief the British people look upon as a savage, and many out
here call a wily old fox, because he is guarded in what he says and
does; and can any one be surprised at his reticence when he has so many
enemies in the Boers, who are watching for the first chance to make war
on him and his people in their thirst for land and plunder? He has
always been a good friend to the English, and recent events have taught
him to be more than careful how he acts, seeing that no dependence can
be placed on the English Government in relation to South African
affairs; and such is the feeling of all the great chiefs from the
Zambese down to the Cape Colony.
A more romantic position for a native town could not well be chosen, and
with little labour this natural fortress could be made impregnable.
Many of the women wear petticoats, others still retain their skin
dresses with bead and brass ornaments; and if left alone, without fear
of Boer invasion, these are the most happy people in the world. The
English people have hitherto been looked upon as friends and protectors,
and as one of them I felt proud of my country. But since the Transvaal
rebellion and its retrocession, an Englishman is ashamed to travel the
country, to be subject to the taunts of the chiefs and people at the
boasted honour of England. As I have stated, the people are the most
happy of the human race--having no cares, no great division of classes,
no extravagant fashions or forms to keep up. Luxuries of civilised life
are unknown. They have their amusements, their nightly music and
dances, the usual reed band already described; the women and children
sing, and keep excellent time to the music; their clear and musical
voices are pleasant to hear. The duty of the men is to attend to the
oxen and cows, make karosses and clothes, hunt and work with their
waggon and spans, fetching in the corn when ripe, bringing in wood for
the fires; the boys look after the calves and goats. The women cook,
bring water, hoe the gardens, and keep the birds away, and cut the corn
when ripe--the labour being so divided, all goes on pleasantly. Sechele
assists the missionary in his services at the church, which is a large
building in the upper town. A few days previous to my visit a troop of
young elephants marched up to the kraal from the Kalahara desert, having
lost themselves--a very unusual occurrence, as they seldom come down so
far south. The natives turned out and shot them, causing great
excitement.
In Sechele's territory there are no other stations of any size; he has
many smaller kraals in outlying districts, and several cattle-posts
belonging to Kaffirs, some of whom are rich in stock. Four roads branch
from Molapololo to the north, one passing through the desert to Lake
N'gami, two direct to Ba-Mangwato through the Bush Veldt, a fourth _via_
Motsode, by continuing down the Notuane river; another, making a fifth,
taking the river road by the Limpopo. The distance by the direct roads
to Mongwato is 133 miles. In the dry season most of the
transport-waggons take the river road, as water is always to be
obtained. In the direct roads, many of the pans dry up; only at Selene
Pan can water be procured, which is eighty-eight miles from Sechele's,
and forty-five from Mongwato. All that part of the country is very
pretty; there are no hills, small koptjies are numerous. The trees and
bush that grow in such park-like clumps, of great variety, add to its
charm. The first year I travelled that road, eighteen years ago, the
whole country swarmed with game, lions, and wolves, that is, at the time
I speak of. The koodoo, with fine spiral horns from three to four feet
in length, is a noble animal, the size of an ordinary ox, of a dun
colour; their fine action when trotting or on the gallop, carrying their
heads well up, is a fine sight. Hartebeests, roibok, with their
beautiful fat sides and sleek coats. Well-marked with black stripes and
white is the zebra, and when a troop of a hundred or more pass, it is a
picture in itself. The ostrich was then plentiful, but it was difficult
to run them down where the trees grow so thick, with bush between.
I had a young and fleet horse who got quite used to hunting them; if he
saw any, it was difficult to keep him in hand, and in a country of thick
bush, wolf-holes, and ant-bears, it required great caution to prevent a
tumble of both horse and man. The best plan I found was to stalk them
between the bushes. I had a narrow escape with a lion on one of my
ostrich hunts. When chasing them at full speed, I had to leap a low
bush, no other opening being near; when half-way over, I saw a lion on
the other side close under the branches, who raised himself as if he had
been asleep--I partly passed over him. All I had time to see was his
great head and mane as he jumped up, but I was off and away before he
seemed to realise his position; at any rate he did not give chase, as I
thought he might do. I think my horse had some inkling of the same, for
he stretched out at his full speed. At night they became very
troublesome, prowling round the waggon, keeping us awake to prevent them
coming disagreeably close to the oxen and two horses fastened securely
by reins to the trektow and waggon. Not being hunted, they were very
bold. One night they killed a beautiful gemsbok within 100 yards of the
waggon; the long straight horns I secured the next morning.
Several Bushmen and their families kept with me during my stay in these
parts, and were of great assistance in fetching water, cutting up the
flesh to make biltong by drying it in the sun, and bringing in the game
when shot. Some of the Bushmen and women were well-made, the old ones
poor specimens of humanity. One girl was a perfect model, with rounded,
well-formed limbs, and in good condition from living on the game the men
killed with their bows and arrows. These people were quite black and
small, a different type altogether from the Bushmen of the south. They
were of the same family as those who occupy a great portion of the
Kalahara desert, of which this forms the eastern part. Their language
is also different; they are called Mesere Bushmen from their small size;
that word signifies woman. They were perfectly naked, the weather never
being cold, at this time the thermometer being 102 degrees in the shade.
Their long rough grass huts being a broken bough or a few sticks stuck
up and long grass thrown over.
They have a very ingenious method of taking game by pitfalls. They dig
four or five pits eight feet deep, ten long and four wide, fifty or
sixty and sometimes 100 feet from each other, not in a straight line,
but so placed that when they make a fence from one to the other it would
form the letter V; at the point would be the pit, and no hedge, so that
an animal wanting to pass through would walk down to the opening, and as
the pit would be beautifully covered over with small sticks and grass,
made a very inviting road to walk over. It was at one of these openings
I had a very narrow escape of my life. Returning to my camp after a
long day out after game, I came upon this fence, seeming an opening, and
not having seen any before, I was going through, my dog in front, when I
saw him disappear all at once, howling as dogs will howl when hurt or
frightened. Dismounting, I pulled away some of the sticks to make the
hole larger, and found one of these pits, with a large sharp-pointed
pole stuck upright in the centre, and there was the dog at the bottom in
a great state of mind; but how to get him out was a puzzle. As there
were several long straight branches that formed the hedge, I got
sufficient to put in that I might go down to take hold of the dog's neck
and lift him out, which took me an hour to perform. I took care to give
these hedges a wide berth when I saw any afterwards. If a giraffe or
elephant fell in he would be impaled and unable to move. Smaller game
like my dog are caught alive. If I and my horse had gone in, he would
have been impaled, and I should have been probably killed.
The Bechuanas have another method of catching game by pitfalls--at least
many years ago it was in use, where instead of securing one, they
trapped hundreds at one time. In those extensive open plains, where
tens of thousands of the antelope species roam, a favourable spot would
be selected, and from eight to twelve large pits dug, ranged in a row
fifteen feet apart, the earth taken out to the depth of five feet, and
thrown up between them, forming a steep bank; at the bottom of this pit,
it would be divided into smaller pits, two feet in depth, leaving a wall
of earth between each; these would be square, and three in a row. The
full size of the opening would be about thirty by twelve feet, placed
longways. These would occupy a considerable space; at the extreme ends
a thick bush hedge would prevent the game leaping over, and several
hundred men placed in addition to prevent the animals going round. When
all was prepared, men would drive the game by thousands towards the
pits, and as they were pressed on by those behind they made for the pits
to escape, where they would fall in, and having no foothold in the small
square pits above-named, had to remain. Hundreds passing over them,
also got fixed, until the pits were full.
Then the grand slaughter commenced; as many as 1200 have been caught at
one time. All the men, women, and children set to work; fires made,
cooking begins, the skins taken off, and the meat cut up into lengths
and hung up to dry in the sun for future use; not a marrow-bone is
wasted, and it takes days to complete the work. This practice has been
given over for years, but the pits still remain, some very perfect,
which I measured. The Dutch name is "fungcut," the Kaffir name "hopo."
The game driven into these pits would be composed of all kinds common to
the country. The Bechuanas have guns and shoot the game, and have
become very good shots.
At Molapololo when the people get short of meat, a hunt is got up to go
out for weeks to shoot game. Thirty or forty men, each with a gun, and
pack-oxen, with several waggons, proceed to the Kalahara, where game is
always to be had, and when they have procured enough meat or biltong to
load up the oxen, they return home. Many women and children go in the
waggons with them; it is a grand picnic. I was with them on one
occasion when we had a lion-hunt, and we killed three out of seven, but
four of the Bechuanas got fearfully wounded.
I was outspanned about 100 miles on the north-west of Sechele's, near a
very pretty pan full of water, it being the rainy season in February,
when one of these hunts came along, and outspanned a short distance from
my waggon. The night previous we had been on the watch, as lions kept
prowling about the waggons, but could not see any, the night being very
dark. The next night the Kaffirs lost one of their largest pack-oxen,
and as we saw by the spoor that there were several, the Kaffirs came to
me, they knowing me very well, and asked if I would go with them and
hunt up the lions, as we had several good dogs to drive them out of the
bush. We mustered in all twenty-two guns--myself and my driver, a
Hottentot, a capital shot, and twenty of the hunting party. Leaving the
camp about two p.m., we took the lions' spoor for nearly a mile into a
small koppie with thick bush. The best part of the sport was to see the
Kaffirs in their excitement, as if they had never seen a lion before; my
fear was they might shoot me in their anxiety to have a shot and be the
first to kill; every man had his place assigned him, but we could not
draw the lions out of their cover; the dogs made a great noise, but
would not go in. Finding they would not move, I placed three Kaffirs in
a good position for them to keep firing with their rifles into the most
likely part; this after a time brought four lions out, three others
slunk away to the rear. Two had evidently been hit by the bullets, for
they made for the nearest Kaffirs, whom they seized. Three were killed,
having received seven to eight shots each; those that made their escape
were young, only half-grown. This was a glorious day for the Kaffirs,
to go home and tell their chief and friends of their bravery.
All this part of the Kalahara belongs to and is in Gaseitsive's
territory, a country nearly 200 miles square; the northern part from
Molapololo is a complete forest, fine trees, bush and open glades, and
is his hunting-ground, where his people procure ostrich feathers, skins,
and game, and also ivory. It was, when I first knew it, full of game,
but since the natives have obtained rifles, they have greatly reduced
it. The Notuane river and its branches drain the country belonging to
Sechele and Gaseitsive, and is a tributary of the Limpopo. Fifty miles
to the east of Molapololo is a large Kaffir station, Chene Chene, within
the latter territory, under the chief Maklapan. A beautiful and
picturesque hill stands close to it, which is visible at a great
distance. The whole country is forest and full of game. The town is
twenty-nine miles south from Motsodie. The river road to the interior
from Molapololo passes through a very pretty and interesting part of the
country, a long range of low thickly wooded hills on the left.
Twenty-two miles on the road from Molapololo is Clokan, a small stream,
another branch of the Notuane, where water seldom fails.
On my last journey I found a trader, a Mr. Okenshow, outspanned, who
told me several lions had killed three blue wildebeest the previous
night, and advised me not to let my oxen go out of my sight in the thick
bush. This spot is famed for beautiful birds. After shooting some
pheasants and four of these little beauties.
I went on and passed another small stream call Koopong, thirteen miles,
and then to Motsodie, the large Kaffir station under the chief Linsey,
which is forty-two miles distant from Molapololo; he cautioned me to
look after my horses and oxen, for the country was full of lions, and
they were so bold they came close up to the town. They follow the game,
more particularly quaggas or zebras, and, as there were plenty of them,
also koodoos, hartebeest, and wildebeest.
Previous to my first visit, a chief named Kgamanyane left his country on
the east side of the Limpopo river, crossed over and settled at this
station, with all his people, by permission of Sechele, and built a
large station up among several hills, that it might be well protected in
case of war with any tribe. At his death, his son Linsey ruled jointly
with his uncle, and claimed the country as his own, and began stealing
Sechele's cattle and killing his herds; this led to war between them;
several attacks were made by the latter on the town, but they were
driven off, with a few killed, and so the war for a time was ended.
This was the trouble Sechele told me of. The town is well selected for
defence, the hills command every approach to it. Linsey lives in a
brick house, and he and his people dress in European clothes. There is
a mission station under the London Missionary Society. The people are
very civil and ready to help strangers. Close up to the town are some
very large ant-hills, fifteen feet in height, and forty feet in
circumference at the base, terminating in a sharp point. They are the
work of the small white ant that is so destructive to furniture and
buildings; what motive they have for building them so lofty and pointed
I have never been able to discover, because all their food supply is
conveyed into it through little holes at the base. They are wonderful
works for so small an insect. I remained here a week that I might
explore the country, which is of sandstone formation, granite below,
iron-conglomerate in large boulders on the slopes of the hills.
There are two roads to the Limpopo river, one on each side of the
Notuane, and another through the Bush Veldt, to the Great Marico river,
with branch roads to Chene Chene, Ramoocha, and Rinokano stations, the
two former ones being very bad and crossing many sluits. I took the one
through the Bush Veldt. Leaving Motsodie in the afternoon, I crossed
the river, and as night would be dark, outspanned early, to be prepared
for any nocturnal visits from our feline friends. Fixing upon a pretty
little open space, the only one I could find along the road, as it was
one dense bush on both sides, I outspanned, and made everything ready,
collecting plenty of wood to make big fires. Having made a fire to cook
our evening meal, my three Kaffirs, or rather my Hottentot driver and
two Kaffirs, were sitting smoking over it, and having seen all secure,
were ready to turn into bed, when my driver, a first-class boy, called
out there were lions coming on. He was the first to hear them--their
noise is not to be mistaken when once heard. Having listened some time,
the sounds, which on a still night can be heard a long distance off,
appeared to be approaching. Our first care was to replenish the fire
and pile up wood for two more, bring the foremost oxen close up to the
waggon, making them fast to the wheels; the horse was placed between the
waggon and fire, fastened to the front wheels, and more wood collected.
During this time the lions appeared to be nearing us. After lighting
the other two fires, I gave the boys a rifle each; myself and driver
took up our position on the front waggon-box, that we might have a
better view. The night being very still, not a sound was heard, except
occasionally from our friends, as they evidently were very near. When
about one o'clock in the morning the sounds ceased altogether; then we
knew they had discovered us, and meant mischief. The last sounds
appeared to be about 300 yards distant. This was an exciting time, for
at any moment we might expect them in our midst, and to seize some of
the oxen or the horse. All was still as death, except when the Kaffirs
threw more wood on the fires. After waiting nearly an hour, the first
indication of their presence was the restlessness of the oxen and horse,
having scented them in the still air; but with all the glare of the
fires they were not visible, the bush being so thick. We each took our
rifles and stood between the oxen and the wood. The first warning sound
was from my Hottentot driver, Dirk, who called out, "Look sharp," and
the next moment the report of his rifle. I was standing by his side,
and saw the lion, not thirty paces from us, turn round, when I gave him
a second bullet. He appeared to be severely wounded, as he only
retreated a little distance, when he received a third from my driver,
which brought him to the ground, and another in the head to make sure: a
fine, full-grown lion. The other we never saw, he must have made his
escape at the first shot. Early in the morning, to save time, I had him
skinned, and inspanned to make my morning trek before breakfast. Two
treks a day, morning and evening, nine miles each, if possible, but in
this country you must be guided by water. The smell of the lion-skin at
the back of the waggon made the oxen trek so fast that it was difficult
to keep them under command. It is a very strange fact that calves born
in the colony, grown into oxen, that have never seen or smelt a lion,
should be so frightened at even the smell. Instinct, I suppose, tells
them they are no friends. Those who have never seen a lion in his wild
state can have no idea what a noble-looking animal he is. My driver
Dirk was elated at having given the first shot, being the first lion he
ever shot at. Every night in these parts we heard them at a distance.
Wolves came every night. A few nights after, one came close to the
waggon about midnight, not thirty yards away. I merely took my rifle as
I sat up in my bed and shot him in the chest--one of those large-spotted
brown sort. They smelt the raw meat at the back of the waggon. Wild
dogs also this year came in large packs; they may be seen in one
district for a short time, then they disappear for months. It is the
same with the lions. The tiger (leopard) seldom leaves his haunts.
The distance from Motsodie to the Great Marico river road is forty-seven
miles, from thence to the junction of the Notuane river with the
Limpopo, seventy-four miles. On the road from whence I crossed the
Notuane river to the Great Marico road, the country is very dry and
sandy, but the bush in places is very lovely. A great fire was raging
on our right and coming down upon us with a strong wind; there was no
means of escaping it, as high grass was in every direction, by trying to
get past it; I therefore held still, set fire to the grass on our left
of the road, which went blazing away at a great speed, that soon cleared
a large extent of ground, where I brought my waggon into a safe
position; if I had not done this, the waggon and all would have been
destroyed.
These grass-fires are very injurious to vegetation, killing the young
trees and causing grass of a very coarse kind. This transport river
road in dry weather is splendid, level and free from stones; some of the
sluits are bad to cross. At the junction of the Great Marico river with
the Limpopo is a drift through the latter, and a pinkish granite crops
up on its banks. Wishing to have a swim, I took my towels from the
waggon, and walked towards the river. On arriving at the bank, which is
some fifty feet above the water, I saw on the sand beneath me a fine
crocodile, on the opposite sand-bank, for the water was very low, three
others basking in the sun below me, and two in the water, with a part of
their heads and backs out. Those on the opposite side saw me first, for
they moved towards the water slowly, and entered it and disappeared,
without making the slightest ripple in the water; their bright colours
made them look anything but ugly. I thought it advisable to defer my
bath to some more favourable opportunity. At this point Sechele's
territory terminates and the chief Khama's begins.
At the junction of the Notuane and Limpopo there are two drifts. At the
upper one I had to repair before I could take my waggon through, which
caused me a day's delay; I therefore fixed my camp under a very pretty
clump of trees on the bank, where we were in the evening fully occupied
in shooting wolves, this being a very noted place for them. Having shot
a hartebeest in the morning, we employed the evening in making biltong
of the flesh, and placed it on the branches of the trees to dry, as it
was getting dark, for in this latitude (23 degrees 30 minutes),
immediately under the Tropic of Capricorn, night sets in very soon after
sundown. Several wolves came round the waggon; I thought at first in
the dim light they were dogs, but soon discovered my mistake. We then
made a plan to catch them, by placing two pieces of the raw meat about
fifty yards from our camp, fastening them to a stump of a tree, just
before the moon rose at ten o'clock, that we might see them when they
came; then we all took up our position with our rifles, and waited.
About eleven o'clock three large ones were seen coming from out of the
wood towards the baits, which they soon found and seized, but the pieces
were too firmly tied for them to take away, and then they began fighting
over them, when two more made their appearance, creating quite a scene.
It was then time to fire, and our four bullets settled two; the others
before we could reload made off, although one was wounded as he made his
escape. Bringing the two dead ones to the camp, we watched a short time
longer, when another was seen coming on, and when in the act of trying
to drag the meat away, we shot him also, and another soon afterwards,
making four, and very large ones. The next day they were skinned, as
they are very useful for many purposes, and the day after, I shot a
crocodile as he seemed asleep on the bank. He measured eleven feet.
Being only a short distance from the Limpopo river, which is broad and
in places very deep, these reptiles seem to swarm; and its well-wooded
banks give shelter to hundreds of monkeys, and also to many beautiful
birds.
At the junction of the Notuane river with the Limpopo, the altitude is
2880 feet at the drift, which is one of the main roads from Pretoria in
the Transvaal to the trading-station Mongwato, and the chief Khama's
capital; the distance by road from the drift is seventy-three miles.
The territory of Sechele, which also includes those portions now claimed
by the petty chiefs Linsey at Motsodie, and Maklapan at Chene Chene, are
valuable and well-wooded districts, with many native kraals; the people
cultivate the land, use ploughs, and grow corn which supplies largely
the inhabitants on the border of the Transvaal, and is taken in exchange
for English goods through traders from the Cape Colony, and they also
rear large herds of cattle. If a settled form of government is
established, and Boer invasions put down, the country will soon become
highly valuable as a market for British merchandise, as the natives are
very industrious, and quite alive to the importance of trade; most of
the beautiful karosses that find such a ready sale in the home markets
are made by the Bechuana people. In all these chiefs' territories they
are excellent mechanics, manufacturing tools and utensils from native
iron, and good forges are now being introduced. They have hitherto used
for heating their metal, air-bags, connected by a tube, one placed under
each arm, which they press to their side, which causes a blast
sufficient to melt or heat the metal, which they hammer into form with
stones. But this primitive mode is going out of use, and the ordinary
bellows is being adopted. They purchase extensively of colonial
traders, iron pots, kettles, saucepans, and tin utensils, as also every
kind of wearing apparel, and if the country is protected from Boer
marauders, the British merchant may look forward at no distant date to
an extension of trade in these regions, over and above the present
sales, up to several millions annually, as the great stride towards
civilisation during my time has been most satisfactory. Twenty years
ago, where one trader's waggon went in, in 1880 there were fifty, which
was stopped on the retrocession of the Transvaal to the Boers, when a
collapse took place, and has continued through the murderous attacks and
robbery of the Boers on the natives, but which, I trust, will now be put
an end to by the British Government proclaiming a protectorate over all
this extensive and valuable region.