The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1890-01-05
sigh. ellis trouble has turned his brain
But he will think better of it,"

sign. Ills Trouble las uuTueu his Drdll.
But he will think better of it,"
1t was some days afterwards, I 90 no
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 as though they were
asleep, and they all had flowers in their
hands. My father told me to kiss them
all, because 1 should not see them any
more, and 1 did so, though I 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"
l cried very much, and he took me
downstairs. and after that 1 i have only a
confused memory of men dressed in
black carrying heavy burdens towards
the gray churchyard.
Next comes a vision of a 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, l believe that a large
portion of our income went from my
father Oh my mothers death. At any
rate we travelled with the Storage pas
sengers, and the intense discomfort of
the journey with the rough ways of our
fellow emigrants 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. Ny
father went UP the country and became
q missionary among the Kaffirs, near to
where the town of Cradock now stands,
and here | grew to manhood. There
were a few Boer farmers in the neighbor-
hood, and gradually a little settlement
of whites gathered round our mission
station-a drunken Scotch blacksmith
and w~heelwright was about the most in
teresting 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 l contracted a fondness for the lat
ter amusing writings which has never
left me.
Burns l never cared for so much,
probably because of the Scottish dialect,
which repealed me. What little educa-
ton I got was from my father, but 1
never had much leaning toward books,
nor he much time to teach them to me.
On the other hand, 1 was always a keen
observer of the ways of men and ma
ture. By the time that L was 90 l could
speak Dutch and three or four Kaffir
dialects perfectly, and I doubt if there
was anybody in South Africa who I'M
derstood native ways of thought and
action more completely than I did. Also
l was really a good shot and horseman,
and | think-as, indeed, my subsequent
career proves to have been the Casa
great deal tougher than the majority of
men.
1t may be wondered that 1 did not run
absolutely wild in such surroundings,
but l was held back from this by my
fathers society. He was one of the gen
TEST and most refined men that I ever
met; even the most savage Kaffir loved
him, and his influence was a very good
one for me. He used to call himself one
of the worlds failures. Would that there
were more such failures. Every evening
when his work was done he would take
his prayer book, and, sitting on the little
stoop of our station, would read the even
ing psalms to himself. Sometimes there
was not light enough for this, but it made
no difference, he knew them all by heart.
When he had finished he would look out
across the cultivated lands where the
mission Kafiirs had their huts.
But knew it was not these he saw, but
rather the gray English church, and the
graves ranged side by side before the yew
near the wicket gate.
1t was there on the stoop that he died.
He had not been well, and one evening
| was talking to him, and his mind went
back to Oxfordshire and my mother.
He spoke of her a good deal, saying that
she had never been u of his mind for
a single day during all these years, and
that he rejoiced to think he was draw
ing near that land whittier she had gone.
Then he asked me if l remembered that
night when Squire Carson came into
the study at the vicarage, and told him
that his wife had run away, and that
he was going to change his name and
bury himself in some remote land.
l said that 1 remembered it perfectly.
81 wonder where he went to- said
my father, land if lie and his daughter
Stella are still alive. Well, we'll! l shall
never meet them again. But life is a
strange thing, Allan, and you may. If
you ever do, give them my kind love-"
After that l left him. We had been
suffering more than usual from the dep
relations of the Kaffir thieves, who stole
our sheep at night, and, as l had done
before, and not without success, l had
determined to watch the kraal and seei if
l could catch them. Indeed, it was from
this habit of mine of watching at night
that l first got my native name of Ma
cumazahn, which may be roughly trans
lated as she who sleeps with one eye
OPEN" So 1 took my rifle and rose to
go. But he called me to him and kissed
me on the forehead, saying, "God bless
you, Allan. hope that you will think
of your old father sometimes, and that
you will lead a good and happy life"
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