town is pronounced Yohonnesburg by its citizens, but I find that they
call it “Joburg” almost universally.... In Durban, the best people
ride in rickshas; here, these vehicles are used very sparingly. A law
has been passed whereby their use will be entirely prohibited in two
years. It is claimed that the ricksha men become overheated while
running, and contract consumption.... A sign frequently seen in
Johannesburg reads: “This house and stand for sale.” It is equivalent
to “This house and lot for sale.”... I was out this afternoon with
five Americans, and at 4 P. M. we went into an enormous place to drink
a cup of tea. There were certainly fifty girl waiters, and hundreds of
customers. The tea-room included a long balcony above the sidewalk, and
similar places are very numerous in Joburg. I am told that tea-drinking
is one English habit American residents soon acquire.... The
ordinary natives work long hours here. This evening I heard a boss
say to a gang of street laborers: “Remember that we begin work Monday
morning at 5:30, not at 6:30.”... There are fourteen annual holidays
here, observed by the whites as religiously as we observe Christmas,
Thanksgiving, and the Fourth of July, but the natives do not seem
to participate in them. If there is anything in having an abundant
supply of cheap labor, South Africa should flourish.... Over in
Missouri, many of the farmers have private graveyards. I find a similar
custom among the Boer farmers in South Africa.... A big sign I saw
at Bloemfontein contained this imprint: “D. Jones, writer.” Meaning
that D. Jones was the sign-writer who made it. Near the Hotel Cecil
in Bloemfontein I also saw this sign: “Hotel Cecil Toilet Club.” You
might guess a week without guessing what the sign meant: the place
was the hotel barber shop.... At hotels, I always hate to see the
sign, “Fire Escape;” somehow it disturbs me. But the proprietor of the
Langham thought up something more delicate; instead of the words “Fire
Escape,” he uses “Emergency Exit.”... I am always meeting queer
people; I met a woman lately who said she would as soon drink a cup of
castor oil as a cup of rich cream.
SUNDAY, MARCH 23.—Johannesburg and Kimberley have experienced the
usual high life incident to all boom camps. While great fortunes have
been made, much money has been lost, and suicide is almost as common
here as in Monte Carlo. Barney Barnato, one of the conspicuous figures
in both camps, committed suicide at sea, by jumping overboard while
en route to England. But his act was not due to lack of money, as he
was rich at the time, and was just completing the finest residence in
South Africa. The building is now used as a school; it was a gift for
school purposes from the Barnato estate.... Barney Barnato came to
South Africa as a circus clown; his real name was Barnett Isaacs, and
he was a Hebrew. “Barney Barnato” was his circus name, and it stuck to
him in the days of his prosperity, when he became a diamond broker,
and married a “Cape woman;” that is, a negress. She was of light
color, but so dark that she was never received socially. Kimberley and
Johannesburg can forgive much in a woman, if she has money, but Mrs.
Barnato was never forgiven. It is said here that she lived with Barnato
before she was married to him, and he sent her to London to dispose
of diamonds acquired illegally. Instead of depositing the money in a
London bank in Barnato’s name, she deposited it in her own name, and
Barnato was compelled to marry her to get his own money.... Barnato
prospered greatly, and when Cecil Rhodes and Alfred Beit organized
the great De Beers Consolidated Company, they were compelled to treat
with him, as he owned many of the best claims. He was made a life
director in the De Beers Company, and the evidence is that he was
popular, and a good fellow. All the big interests here have holdings
in Johannesburg as well as at Kimberley, so the towns are closely
related.... In the days immediately following the Jameson raid, and
just preceding the Boer war, Paul Krueger was an autocrat, and very
unfair with the big English interests in Johannesburg, which is in the
Transvaal. Krueger was then president of the Transvaal republic, and
you hear it stated in whispers to this day that Barney Barnato, or
some one for him, hired an adventurer named Von Veldtheim, a Londoner,
to assassinate Krueger. In a quarrel Von Veldtheim killed Wolf Joel,
Barnato’s uncle. Von Veldtheim was arrested, and while he was in jail,
awaiting trial, Barnato committed suicide, fearing, it is said, that
Von Veldtheim would tell the whole story when tried for his life. But
Von Veldtheim plead self-defense, and was acquitted by the Boer courts.
He returned to London, and again attempted to blackmail members of the
De Beers Company. The English courts sent him to jail, and he is there
now.... Cecil Rhodes was the best man of the lot, and he did much
for South Africa, as he had ideals greater than making money. Rhodes
was a bachelor, and, like many men of big schemes, a hard drinker. His
death was due, I have often heard, to heavy drinking. He is buried at
Bulawayo, in Rhodesia, which he placed on the map, and which is named
for him. Alfred Beit was a financial man, and not a great deal can
be said for him except that he was very capable, and accumulated an
enormous fortune.... Of the original crowd of boomers, Dr. Jameson
is about the only one still living, and he is everywhere highly spoken
of. He was originally Cecil Rhodes’s physician, but had business
ability, and, with the patronage of Rhodes, soon became an important
figure in South Africa. It was this man who headed the Jameson raid,
intended to turn the Transvaal republic into an English colony, but
the Boers captured him and his men in less time than it would take to
write the story. Jameson and his chief lieutenants were sentenced to
death, and Cecil Rhodes, who really inspired the raid, got them off.
This was accomplished by the payment of money to the Boer chiefs,
and there was so much of it that you hear of Paul Krueger’s buried
treasure almost as frequently as you hear of Captain Kidd’s. The row
over the Jameson raid finally resulted in the Boer war, and the flight
of President Krueger to Switzerland, where he died. There is still a
good deal of friction between the English and Boers: an English paper
issued this morning complains that at an agricultural fair to be opened
in Johannesburg this week, only fifteen per cent of the exhibitors are
Boers.... The week beginning with Easter is a holiday week, and the
crowd in Johannesburg is so large now that tents have been erected in
many places to accommodate the visitors. The streets this afternoon
were packed, and certainly nineteen out of twenty were men. This is a
man’s country.... The American consul told me today that he does not
hear much of missionaries in this section, except of a few Mormons, who
are unpopular because of the notion, probably mistaken, that they teach
polygamy. We called at the consul’s office today, and were much pleased
with the many pictures we saw there of American saints: Washington,
Lincoln, McKinley, Roosevelt, Taft, Wilson, etc.... In going down
in the elevator at the Langham hotel today, I saw a cheap book the
elevator boy had been reading. Picking it up, I saw that the title was:
“Buffalo’s Bill’s Warning.” So it seems American literature, which is
said to be unknown abroad, is getting a start.
MONDAY, MARCH 24.—This evening we had six American guests at dinner at
our hotel: Mr. Gunsaulus, the American consul at Johannesburg; Mr. and
Mrs. Atterbury and their son Manfred, and Mr. and Mrs. Mark Cary. Mr.
Cary had been at Capetown and Durban during our stay in Johannesburg,
but returned late this afternoon, and drove direct from the train to
the hotel. The hotel orchestra, as a compliment to our party, played
American rag time. At 9:30 P. M. the entire party walked with us to
the railway station, where we were to take a train for Bulawayo, en
route to Victoria Falls. Our baggage had been sent to the station in
advance, and we carried nothing except an enormous package of American
newspapers: copies of the Chicago _Tribune_ and New York _World_....
The train did not get away until 10:25 P. M., being late, but our
friends remained until we departed. I tried to coax them to go home,
but they wouldn’t do it; when people are very nice to me it makes me as
uncomfortable as when they are not nice enough.... When we arrived
at the station we found a chart displayed against a wall showing that
“Mr. and Miss Howe” had been assigned to a compartment large enough
for four, and from the interest Mr. Gunsaulus and Mr. Atterbury took in
the matter, I imagined they had a good deal to do with securing this
very agreeable and unusual concession.... I should like to have the
pleasure of entertaining Mrs. Atterbury, particularly, when she makes
her long-delayed visit home. She has been away nineteen years, and
if ever there was a true patriot, she is one; her enjoyment at being
among Americans again would be worth witnessing. She is always talking
of “going home,” and telling of the many nice people she knows there,
and nothing would please me more than to assist in realizing, as far
as possible, all her present expectations. Isham, her husband, has
been promising a long time to take her home “next year,” but she now
declares that if he doesn’t keep his promise by March 1, 1914, she will
go alone. We spent half our time in Johannesburg with the Atterburys;
in addition to innumerable meals we ate with them, they gave us one
dinner at which we had four kinds of wine. So if her friends in St.
Joe will let me know the date of her arrival, I will be at the station
to welcome her.... Soon after the train conductor looked at our
tickets, he proceeded to lug two huge bags of bed-clothing into our
compartment, and make up two beds. We paid $1.20 for the use of the
bed-clothing two nights; the charge would have been the same for one
night. So that we will have a large compartment to ourselves two nights
and a day, and pay only $1.20 above the regular fare. The beds were
comfortable, though somewhat narrow, but we slept as well, I imagine,
as people usually do on a sleeping-car. On our door and on our window
were placards announcing that the compartment was reserved, and we were
not disturbed during the journey. The South-African sleeping-cars are
not at all bad, except that the train conductor has so much to do that
he cannot keep them as clean as they should be. The conductor did not
polish my shoes at night, but I knew he was very busy, and overlooked
his neglect.... On one or two trains we have been on, there was a
man who helped the conductor, but on at least two crowded trains on
which we traveled, the conductor has had no help whatever in making
up the beds; the most curious thing I have ever noted in railroad
travel. There is a guard on the train, who is what we call a brakeman,
but he does not assist the conductor in the chamber-work. When these
conductors are taking the tickets, they are as haughty as are American
conductors, but when they begin lugging in sheets, pillows and
mattresses, they are as humble as the most timid traveler could wish.
TUESDAY, MARCH 25.—This is written on the Imperial Mail train, on the
line of South-African railway extending from Capetown to Victoria Falls
and beyond. This will eventually become the “Cape to Cairo” railway,
extending from Capetown, on the seacoast in South Africa, to Cairo, in
Egypt. You may recall that Colonel Roosevelt, on his famous hunting
trip in Africa, went by rail as far as he could, and then tramped
through the wild country to the end of the line extending south from
Egypt, and then went to Cairo. Alfred Beit, one of the bonanza kings
of Johannesburg and Kimberley, left six million dollars to be used in
completing the gap between the African and Egyptian lines. When the
“Cape to Cairo” line is finally completed, it will become as famous as
the line from Moscow, in Russia, to a port on the Sea of Japan. This
line was built by the Russians, and the distance from Moscow to Japan
is now made in comfortable trains in ten days. Think of ten days of
continuous travel in the same coaches, in the same train, and on the
same railway! Great as is America, it has nothing like it; although we
are talking of a line from New York to Buenos Aires, in South America.
Thousands of miles of the proposed line are in operation, but there are
gaps in Central and South America so difficult that it may never be
completed, while the “Cape to Cairo” line may be a reality within the
next twenty years.... Always remember that in South Africa there is
no rich, black soil such as you see in Illinois, Iowa, eastern Kansas,
and other of our best states. At least, I have not seen any. The soil
in Africa is usually thin and red, and stones abound nearly everywhere.
No part of Africa has as reliable a rainfall as the best parts of the
United States. But nevertheless there is a fascination about this
frontier country to an American; were I a younger man, probably the
“spirit of the Veldt” would appeal to me more strongly than it does.
All sorts of problems, including irrigation and dry-farming, are being
worked out here. I have seen little country in Africa that looks any
better than Kansas looks two hundred miles from the river, and the
trouble is lack of a dependable rainfall. Along the coast there is so
much rain that sugar-cane is grown without irrigation, and there is
much good country, but today, eight hundred miles from the coast, we
are in a dry, mountainous district which reminds one of Arizona....
Today we are seeing blanket negroes; native blacks who wear nothing but
blankets, still a habit with some of our Indians. Between the lonely
stations, we see native villages which seem as primitive as anything
Africa can produce; at the stations, also, we see some negro men and
women dressed as well as our best negroes at home. This morning we saw
negro beggars for the first time: black children ran beside the train
at a stopping-place, and, patting their stomachs, indicated that they
were hungry, as a means of inducing the passengers to throw pennies to
them.... At the stations, also, we see strong, capable Englishmen.
These are the men who are engaged in working out the South-African
problems, and they are undoubtedly making progress.... The white
race can only flourish in certain parts of Africa; in sections four
thousand feet or more above sea-level. Other portions of country
must be left, for a long time at least, to the natives. Just what
proportion of Africa is 4,000 feet or more above sea-level, I do not
know, but I have seen the proportion stated as one-fourth in a certain
section.... Most of the native male children we are seeing today
are entirely naked, and their parents wear nothing but blankets when
they come out to see the train go by; no doubt they wear less when
not under observation.... Tomorrow morning we will leave the train
at Bulawayo, for a two-days stay. This town is in Rhodesia, which
is as big as half of Europe. All of this immense territory belongs
to and is administered by a British company, and is not a member of
the South-African union. In Rhodesia there are 25,000 Europeans and
a million natives. The head of every native family is compelled to
pay the British company an annual tax of $5, with $2 extra for each
additional wife. Many of the native men who work in the mines in
Johannesburg and Kimberley came from the poor villages we are seeing
today. The villages are all alike: the houses are straw-covered huts,
and the inhabitants seem to be as poor as people can be. The native
men only work as a means of buying wives.... When Abel and Sampson
return home, they probably return to wretched villages such as we
are seeing today. Abel and Sampson are the servants at the home of
Mr. and Mrs. Mark Cary, in Johannesburg. Abel has a sweetheart, and
is saving money to buy her of her father. She is probably a fourteen
or fifteen-year-old girl living in a village such as we are seeing
today.... Since leaving Sydney, Australia, six weeks ago, we haven’t
seen an American traveler. They seem to be very scarce in this part
of the world. At one of the diamond mines we visited in Kimberley,
there was a book in which all visitors registered. We looked through
twenty or more pages without finding a visitor registered from the
United States.... I have seen only two bunches of ostriches on the
trip; the second this morning near Mafeking. This town was conspicuous
during the Boer war, because of the operations of General Baden-Powell.
It is a pretty and important place, and has railroad shops, as the
Johannesburg branch joins the main line there. It has 1,400 people,
but near it is a native town with three times as many.... In some
places along the line, the soil is so thin that the railroad dump
is made of stones; there is not enough dirt for the purpose. The
telegraph poles and ties are of iron, which indicates the lack of
timber. The track is excellent, and the train runs rapidly. We have
become so accustomed to the narrow-gauge that we do not notice the
difference.... The dining-car on this train is clean, and the meals
very good. When we went in for the first meal, we were told to pay
at the end of the journey; so tomorrow morning I will pay for three
meals. Which is another unusual incident of railroad travel. We notice
here that hotel and train employees always know our names. When we
went into the dining-car for lunch to day, the waiter asked if we
were Mr. and Miss Howe. Being informed that we were, the man escorted
us to a table that had been reserved. We are charged seventy-two
cents for lunch and dinner, and sixty cents for breakfast.... In
Johannesburg and Kimberley, we frequently saw the native miners going
to the station to take trains for their homes. Here at nearly every
station we see native miners who have completed their visit home, and
are going back to work.... In one little valley we passed through
were a good many fields of kaffir corn, and in every case the workers
were women and children. Possibly the men were away working in the
mines.... The country in which we are traveling this afternoon is
eleven hundred miles from Capetown, and the track is not fenced. The
occasional bunches of goats and cattle—I see no sheep—seem to love the
railroad track, and the engineer is compelled to slow up, and drive
them off with his whistle.... This evening we are about as far in
the interior of Africa from Capetown as the Mississippi river is from
New York, and are beginning to have trouble with dust. I believe I have
never been bothered with dust as I am here; but we cannot see it—it
seems to be a part of the air.... We passed within thirty miles
of Serome, containing thirty thousand people, and one of the largest
native towns in South Africa. The chief of this tribe does not allow
liquor to be sold in his territory, and is quite progressive. He rules
over a territory a hundred miles square. In his town of Serome there
are a good many white storekeepers and traders, who buy corn, skins,
etc., and ship them to the railroad by ox teams. Serome is in a vast
territory known as the “Protectorate;” the British government protects
the natives in their right to rule through chiefs. British officials,
usually army officers, are scattered throughout the territory, to
advise and really rule the chiefs. The natives have their own petty
courts, but the superior courts are British. We are well out of the
Boer territory now. The Boers once planned to annex the vast territory
now known as Rhodesia, which fact caused Cecil Rhodes to hurry into
the country with an armed force, and claim it for the British....
The tracks of the South-African railway are uniformly good, and as
night approached, the weather became cooler. The dust we experienced
earlier in the day came from a desert where discomfort is always
experienced.... At one place, we saw a negro hoeing corn in a field,
stark naked. Whether the negro was man or woman, I could not tell at
the distance, but as women do most of the field work here, I fear it
was a woman, and that I saw a very improper sight while innocently
endeavoring to broaden my mind by travel.... Railroad grading is
done here with pick and shovel, and not with horse or steam scrapers.
At one station a long siding was being put in, and the necessary cut
was being made by negroes who used only picks and shovels.... The
passengers on this train, which is a Limited, are a nice lot, and very
polite. Although all men are supposed to be equal, the difference
between the passengers on a Limited train and the passengers on an
excursion train is very marked. The difference between the patrons of a
first and second-class hotel may also be noted without difficulty.