SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES

New Zealand Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 5948, 11 July 1906, Page 2

SOUTH AFRICAN SKETCHES

By ‘‘Alys Lowth.”

(Copyright.)

I.—A NAIVE PROPOSAL

It was noon .at Naumvpoort Junction, and piping hot, as Brenda and I walked along the platform in search of an empty compartment. On this occasion Brenda wan wearing a nurse's costume, and very well she looked in it—swoet, 1 demure, modes!, and bonny as a blush-rose. The conductor, an old and valued acquaintance, met us, and after warmly greeting ns, observed;— “I am very sorry, your Ladyship, but I cannot give you a compartment to yourselves to-day. However, if you would not mind travelling as far as De Aar with a Dutchman and his daughter, you can rely on mo to keep the carriage tor you after that.” Anr as Do Aar was only about four hours’ journey down the lino we gladly agreed, and wore ushered into onr tenu •porary abode. Tho Dutchman proved to he a sociable old fellow: ho began by offering us all sorts of light refreshments, papers to look at, and so on, and when ho considered the ico sufficiently broken, ho became very communicative. Brenda was talking to the daughter, so that Mr Van Tromp and I wore practically by ourselves in the opposite oornera of the carriage, and at fiifft I answered his remarks. But very soon, especially as tho day was so hot, I allowed him to talk away unchallenged and uninterrupted, while I remained a deeply interested listener. “I am very loyal, you know,” he said. "Don’t imagine that because I am a Dutchman, and proud of the name, that I do not like, tho Emrlish. Not, so. Tho English is now my Governmont, and I was horn under tho English flaghut I can see the faults of the English, and also the faults of the -Dutch.

“The English are not fair. They came to ns before the war, and said. ‘Be Inyal. Giro us your horses and yom grain that the Boers may not have them, and afterwards you shall bo paid.’ They treated us like dogs; wo must not talk; our mouths were shut up, stuffed up. Wo had to go into town to fetch our rations, sitting on a Scotch cart, pulled by oxen, who took all day to go nine or ton miles. And now they say to ns; ‘lt is your fault that the Boers won—you helped them through—now wo will not pay you.’ “Now, you are a clerer young lady. You write for the papers. Well, you go and tell the English Government that if they pay ns rve Trill respect them, hut now wo do not respect them. Milner is a fraud. He is too strong for this country. If he wants a thing done, he will have it done; if ho wants mo to be a slave, he will make mo a slave. Ho does, not care if ho gets the whole world into debt. It is through Rhodes and Kaimberlain and Milner that there was war. There is a Dutch proverb that says, , "If you want to beat a dog yon can always find a stick.’ That just fits Kaimberlain. And that blooming Rhodes! It is a pity such a man ever came to this country. He is buried now, so we won’t disturb his bonce, but ho was a bad man.”

“Bad?” I queried, indignantly. “No man lias ever done so much good for any country as Mr Rhodes has done for Africa!” He looked at me pityingly, with a condescending smile. "My dear young lady, what do yon know about it? You are too young, oh? to know all that I know. . Now, you young ladies ought to be married: you are not married because of Rhodes 1”

This astounding statement took my breath away, and Brenda, who had heard it too, looked across the carriage at mo, and we both broke into a fit of laughter., in which the old man and his daughter most heartily joined. Then he wiped his eyes with a huge bandanna and began again. ‘You may laugh, but it is nevertheless true. Rhodes was educated to bo a minister, and then he comes out hero and preaches to the young men not to get married. I do not get married, he says; I have something better to do! So he teaches the young men to be selfish and careless and idle. My father had nothing, and my mother had nothing, but they got married and helped each other along. That is Rhodes’s doctrine. Now, some •of the ladies support themselves respectably, like you, and this young nurse, and ray daughter, who is a school teacher; but how many thousands go? “But he had his good points. There is the Scab Act Law. All the fanners like it, and the country should have had it thirty years ago, but he brought it boro, and it is goad. And the Glen Grey Act—oh, yes, be had his points. But he drove the blacks from Rhodesia, and when bo found the country was not so rich as be thought, bo tried to get the Transvaal and make one country pay for the other. So ho sent Jameson in. And the nopr ignorant Boers thought those were all the soldiers the English had, so they said, 'Come on, then, let us go on with the war, and drive the British into the sea.

“ It was an unfair war, and every man in the country knew it, and that is why wo could not help sympathising with the Boers over there. One does not fight with a child ; one reasons with it and argues, and shows it where it is wrong. But England fought a little iia-; tion; she wanted the land, the country, and she has got it. Put tho ■ English and the Boers man to man, and tho English would simply make a nice breakfast for tho Boers. But they came in thousands. They crushed the Boers by force and weight alone. You English think we are all so stupid. Look how your own people made money out of the war. They bought horses for £5, a head, and sold them to their own Government for £3O a head! Was that a clever Government? It was not business—it was stupid.” He leaned forward, and pointed towards the kopjes to the right. “ Do you see that farm over there? That farm belongs to a very nice man, and a clever man, but ho is Dutch, and hio sympathies are all Dutch. But he saw that he could make money out of the English by selling them milk, so he kept quiet and they all liked him, and thought him a very nice man, and a loyal farmer. He was not loyal! Ho wanted to make money I ‘ “ But this is the last war England will make. Yes, it is true. You are young yet, and you will see, England has no more money to make war, and no more soldiers. Do you know why she made tho war? Because she had too many soldiers, and «t cost too much to feed them. Now there are not so many mouths to feed, eh? The Boers killed a lot, and tho fever killed a lot. “ Now, you go and tell tho English Government to pay up compensation as they promised, and then we will respect

them, hut we cannot respect a bankrupt baas!

"Do you know why our claims arc not paid? Because England has no more money. Kaimberlain and Milner have spent eo much that there is none loft.”

■'England only fights to help some na, tion that is fin difficulties, or to save people from being ill-treat I ventured to declare.

“ Ah, yes, that is what you Engliahers always say,” lie retorted. unconvinced. “ But. now wo shall not argue about that, my dear young lady; wo shall not quarrel, ch ? I like on very much. X like all tho English », only I sea their faiilie, eh? Yes, 1 isoe their fault-1 But now we shall , slk of something; ehc. I have a son, ,-ou know. Would you not like to see m / son ? He is bfig—oh, very big, and'-abroad, and long,, longer than mo, about sis foot ’seven, ho is. I want--you to seo my son. If you will come out to my farm, X will show him to you. He is stupid, my son, but if ho marries a young English lady like you, now, wiio h» clever, ho will bo all right.”

“ But I don’t want to marry 1” I said decidedly.

‘‘Now, there again is that blooming Rhodes 1 Nowadays ail tho young ladies say they do not want to marry, and the young men eay they have nothing else to do. But you hmut marry. My eon has lots of geld, and ho could go into Parliament, .and you could'write his speeches for him, oh? Ho is only twenty-tiro—twenty-throe, ch Murtie? But he is very big. It is a pity he is bo stupid, but ho Ims gold, and ho is big. If you come now to my farm you can seo him, and you can go with mo all round, and I will allow you ail ho .will have when ho ie married. Will you come?”

“ t should like to oorno and see your farm, but I do not think I should can* to marry your son.’’ ' “ Ah, you think he has not got enough, eh? Weil, you come to my farm, and then you can see for youreolf what my son is kite, and how much geld he lias. And if you will bo his wife ho will go into Parliament and you cam write his speeches for him.” But I was mercifully spared any further argument da this subject, for the train ran into Do Aar junction, and Mr and Miss Van Tramp had to go off after their luggage. I-have not yot found time to visit thorn on their native heath and find out the dimensions in size and bank-balance ot Mynheer van. Tromp, junior 1