San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-01-25

was my wife-was not she highly eduCa- |
ted?-the cleverest woman in the COun- |
try forsoOth. Too clever for me, Quater- |
main-too clever by half. No, no, Stella |
shall be brought up in different school, |
if it be possible, she shall forget her very
name. Good-by, old friend, good-by for
ever. Do not try to find me out, hence
forth shall be like one dead to you, to
You and all knew" and he was gone.
Mad" said my father with a heavy
sigh. His trouble has turned his brain.
But he will think better of it.
At that moment the nurse came hur-
rying in and whispered something in his
ear. Nv fathers face turned deadly pale.
He clutchcd at the table to support him
self, then staggered from the room. My
mother was dying.
1t was some days afterwards, do not
know exactly how long, that my father
took me by the hand and led me upstairs
into the big room that had been my mo-
Tiers bedroom. There she lay, dead in
her coffin. with flowers in her hand.
Along the wall of the room were ar
ranged three little white beds, and on
each of the beds lay one of my brothers.
| They all looked rs though they were
| asleep, and they all had flowers i'll their
| hands. My father told me to kiss them
al, because should not see. them any
more, and did 50. though | was very
frightened. | did not know why. Then
he took me in his arms and kissed me.
"The Lord hath given" he said, land
| the Lord hath taken away; blessed be
| the name of the Lord"
| cried very much. and he took me
downstairs. and after that have only a
confused memory Of men dressed in
| black carving heavy burdens towards
the gray ChurchNard.
Next comes a vision of Il great ship
and wide tossing waters My father
could no longer bear to live in England
after the loss that had fallen on him,
and made up his mind to emigrate to
South Africa. We must have been poor
at the time: indeed, | believe that q large
portion Of our income went from my
| father on NV mothers death. At any
rate we travelled with the Storage pas
s-ngcrs, and the intense discomfort of
the Journey with the rough ways of our
fellow cmgrautS still remain upon my
mind. At last it came to an end, and
we reached Africa, which | was not to
| leave again for MANY, many years. In
those days civilization had not made any
great progress in southern Africa. My
father went up the country and became
a missionary among the Kaf1irS, near to
where tll' town OF Cradock now stands,
and here | grew to manhood. There
were a few Borr farmers in the neighbour
hood. and gradually Il little settlement
of whites gathered round our mission
station -, drunken Scotch blacksmith
and wheeiwright was about the most in
terestmg character, who, when he was
sober, could quote the Scottish poet
Burns and the "Ingoldsby Legends lit
orally by the page. 1t was from him
that | contracted Il fOndneSS for the lat
ter amusing writings which has never
left me.
Burns | never cared for 50 much,
probably because of the Scottish dialect,
, which repealed me. What little eduCa'
ton | got WAS from my father, but
never had much leaning toward books.
nor he much time to teach them to me-
On the other hand, was always keen
observer of the ways of men and ma
ture. By the time that | was 20 could
speak Dutch and three or four Kaffil
dialects perfectly. and l doubt if there
was anybody i'll South Africa who un
derStood native ways of thought anG