treats of hopes, fears, and prospects, besides describing a peculiar battle.

mounted on a pair of sturdy ponies hans marais and charlie considine galloped over the plains of the zuurveld in the direction of grahamstown. the brothers skyd had preceded them, edwin brook was to follow.

it was a glorious day, though this was nothing unusual in that sunny clime, and the spirits of the young men were high. excitement has a tendency to reproduce itself. hans and his friend did not feel particularly or personally interested in the arrival of the royal commissioners, but they were sympathetic, and could not resist surrounding influences. everywhere they overtook or passed, or somehow met with, cavaliers on the road—middle-aged and young—for old men were not numerous there at that time—all hastening to the same goal, the “city of the settlers,” and all had the same tale to tell, the same hopes to express. “things are going to be put right now. the commissioners have full powers to inquire and to act. we court investigation. the sky is brightening at last; the sun of prosperity will rise in the ‘east’ ere long!”

in grahamstown itself the bustle and excitement culminated. friends from the country were naturally stirred by meeting each other there, besides being additionally affected by the object of the meeting. crowds gathered in the chief places of the fast rising town to discuss grievances, and friends met in the houses of friends to do the same and draw up petitions.

at last the commissioners arrived and were welcomed by the people with wild enthusiasm.

abel slingsby, an impulsive youth, and a friend of hans marais, who had just been married to a pretty neighbour of hans in the karroo, and was in grahamstown on his honeymoon, declared that he would, without a moment’s hesitation, throw up his farm and emigrate to brazil, if things were not put right without delay.

“no, you wouldn’t,” said his pretty bride, with an arch look; “you’d take time to think well over it and consult with me first.”

“right, lizzie, right; so i would,” cried slingsby, with a laugh. “but you must admit that we have had, and still have, great provocation. just think,” he added, with returning indignation, “of free-born british subjects being allowed no newspaper to read except one that is first revised by a jealous, despotic governor, and of our being obliged to procure a ‘pass’ to entitle us to go about the country, as if we were kafirs or hottentots—to say nothing of the insolence of the jacks-in-office who grant such ‘passes,’ or the ridiculous laws regarding the natives—bah! i have no patience to recount our wrongs—come, hans, let’s go out and see what’s doing; and don’t forget, liz, to have candles ready for the illumination, and tell the tottie to clean my gun. i must be ready to do them honour, like other loyal subjects.”

the young men sallied forth and found that the commissioners had been received by the authorities with sullen courtesy.

“a clear sign that the authorities know themselves to be in the wrong,” said considine, “for honest men always court open investigation.”

“this attitude looks like rebellion against the british government on the part of the colonial authorities,” said hans. “i shouldn’t wonder if we were to get a surprise from them while in such a mood.”

evening drew on apace, and crowds of people moved about to witness the illumination and other evidences of rejoicing, while some of the more enthusiastic sought to express their sentiments by firing a volley with small arms. according to an eye-witness, (see note 1) the signal was taken up at once, and, the example spreading like wildfire, the hills soon resounded on all sides with a noise that might have been mistaken for the storming of the town. this was a demonstration the authorities could not brook. the necessary orders were given and soon the bugles of the garrison sounded the assembly at scott’s barracks, while the trumpets of the mounted rifles at fort england sent squadrons of horse thundering up bathurst street to assist in the terrible emergency caused by blank cartridges and joyous hurrahs! parties of infantry patrolled the streets, making prisoners in all directions, and the people assembled in church square to see the illuminations were surrounded by troops. the leading men there, foreseeing the advantage that would result so their cause by such a style of repressing public opinion, advised those around them to keep quiet and be true to their principles.

hans marais and his friends happened to be in church square at the time, and at once fell in with and acted on the peaceful advice, though the impulsive slingsby found it difficult to restrain his british spirit.

“see,” he said, pointing to a gentleman who approached, “there goes the reverend mr geary. do you know him, hans? he’s a man of the true sort. let me tell you in your ear that i heard he has got into bad odour in high quarters for refusing to have anything to do with a ‘proscription list’ furnished by the governor, which contains the names of persons who are to be shunned and narrowly watched—some of these persons being the best and most loyal in the colony.”

as he spoke the clergyman referred to was stopped by a friend, and they overheard him express much gratification at the arrival of the commissioners, and a hope that abuses would soon be reformed, at the same time stating his determination not to be a party man.

unfortunately for the clergyman there were minions of the government within earshot at the time. his words were reported, and, shortly afterwards, he was summarily removed.

just then some of the cape corps men charged part of the crowd and scattered it. at the same time various persons were arrested. among these was the indignant slingsby. unable to restrain his ire he called out “shame!” and was instantly pounced upon by a serjeant and party of infantry. immediately becoming sensible of his folly, after a momentary struggle he suffered himself to be led quietly away, but looked over his shoulder as he was marched off to the “tronk,” and said hurriedly—

“console lizzie, hans!”

with a look of sympathy, hans assured his friend that he would do so, without fail, and then, with considine, proceeded to the house where poor lizzie had already lit up the windows and got the gun in readiness.

“they dare not keep him long,” said hans, in his vain attempts to comfort the weeping bride, “and depend upon it that the conduct of the authorities this evening will go a long way to damage their own cause and advance that of the settlers.”

hans was right. slingsby was liberated the following morning. the commissioners turned out to be able men, who were not to be hoodwinked. true, a considerable period elapsed before the “report” afterwards made by them took effect, and for some time the settlers continued to suffer; but in the following year the fruits of the visit began to appear. among other improvements was the creation of a council to advise and assist the governor—consisting of seven members, including himself,—whereby a wholesome check was put upon his arbitrary power. trial by jury was also introduced, and the power of magistrates was modified. these and other more or less beneficial changes took place, so that there was reason to believe a time of real prosperity had at length dawned.

but the settlers were not yet out of the furnace.

providence saw fit to send other troubles to try them besides unjust and foolish men in power. there was still another plague in store.

one day charlie considine rode towards the farm which had now for several years been his home.

the young members of the marais family had grown learned under his care, and he was now regarded as a son by old marais and his wife, while the children looked on him as an elder brother. charlie had not intended to stay so long, and sometimes his conscience reproved him for having given up his profession of medicine, but the longer he stayed with those sweet-tempered dutch-african farmers with whom his lot had been cast the more he liked them, and the more they liked him. what more natural then that he should stay on from day to day, until he became almost one of themselves? when people are happy they desire no change.

but it must not be supposed that the youth’s office was a sinecure. the young marais were numerous, and some of them were stupid,—though amiable. the trouble caused by these, however, was more than compensated by the brightness of others, the friendship of hans, and the sunshine of bertha. the last by the way, had now, like gertrude brook, sprung into a woman, and though neither so graceful nor so sprightly as the pretty english girl, she was pre-eminently sweet and lovable.

well, one day, as we have said, charlie considine rode towards the farm. he had been out hunting alone, and a springbok tied across the horse behind him showed that he had been successful.

rousing himself from a reverie, he suddenly found himself in the midst of a scene of surpassing beauty. in front lay a quiet pond, whose surface was so still that it might have been a sheet of clear glass. on his left the familiar mountain-range beyond the farm appeared bluer and nearer than usual, owing to the intense heat. to the right the undulating karroo, covered with wild-flowers, and dotted with clumps of mimosa-bush, terminated abruptly in a lake which stretched away, in some places like a sea, to the horizon. islands innumerable studded the smooth surface of this lake, and were reflected in its crystal depths. not a breath of air riffled its surface, and there was a warm sunny brightness, a stillness, a deep quietude, about the whole scene which were powerfully suggestive of heavenly peace and rest.

“glorious!” exclaimed considine, reining up to a walking pace. “how delicious while it lasts, and yet how evanescent! does it not resemble my life here? that cannot last.”

charlie was not given to moralising, but somehow he could not help it that day. with an unusually profound sigh he shook the reins and cantered towards the lake. it was not the first time he had seen it, and he knew full well that it would not bar his progress. even as he gave vent to the sigh the glassy waters trembled, undulated, retreated, and, under the influence of a puff of air, slowly melted away, leaving the waterless karroo in its place.

truly it is no wonder that thirsty travellers in african deserts have, from time immemorial, rushed towards these phantom waters of the well-known mirage, to meet with bitter disappointment! the resemblance is so perfect that any one might be deceived if unacquainted with the phenomenon. (see note 2.)

on coming within sight of the farm, considine observed columns of thick smoke rising from various parts of the homestead. with a vague feeling of alarm he put spurs to his horse. drawing quickly nearer he perceived that the smoke arose from the garden, and that the people seemed to be bustling about in a state of violent activity. stretching out at full speed, he was soon at the garden gate, and found that all the bustle, energising, and shouting went on at the end farthest from the gate. as he threw the reins over a post and sprang in he could see through the trees that every one in the establishment was engaged in a wild frantic fight, in which sticks and stones, bushes and blankets, were used indiscriminately. the smoke that rose around suggested fire on the plains, and he ran in haste to render assistance.

it was a goodly garden that he passed through. fruit-trees of every kind were so laden with golden treasures that many of the branches, unable to bear the strain, had given way and the superabundance trailed upon the earth. vegetables of all kinds covered the borders with luscious-looking bulbs and delicious green leaves, while grapes, currants, figs, etcetera, half smothered their respective bushes. through this rich display of plenty considine dashed, and, on reaching the wall at the further end, found conrad marais with his wife and daughter, sons, servants, and slaves, engaged in furious conflict with—locusts!

the enemy had come on them suddenly and in force. the ground was alive with them. armies, legions, were there—not full-grown flying locusts, but young ones, styled foot-gangers, in other words, crawlers, walkers, or hoppers,—and every soul in the establishment had turned out to fight.

even the modest bertha was there, defending a breach in the garden wall with a big shawl, dishevelled in dress and hair, flushed in face, bold and resolute in aspect, laying about her with the vigour of an amazon. the usually phlegmatic conrad defended another weak point, while his at other times amiable spouse stood near him making fearful and frequent raids upon the foe with the branch of of a thorn-tree. hans, like gulliver among the lilliputs, guarded a gate in company with four of his brothers, and they toiled and moiled like heroes, while perspiration rolled in streams from their blazing faces. elsewhere men and women, boys and girls—black, brown, and yellow—exerted themselves to the uttermost.

never was fortress more gallantly defended, never were ramparts more courageously assailed. hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, were slain under that garden wall—hundreds of thousands, millions, hopped over their comrades’ backs and continued the assault with unconquerable pluck. the heroes of ancient greece and rome were nothing to them. horses, cattle, and sheep were driven in among them and made to prance wildly, not in the hope of destroying the foe—as well might you have attempted to blot out the milky way,—but for the purpose of stemming the torrent and turning, if possible, the leading battalions aside from the garden. they would not turn aside. “on, hoppers, on—straight on!” was their watchword. “death or victory” must have been their motto!

at one spot was a hollow trench or dry ditch leading towards an outhouse which intervened between the locusts and the garden. no storming party was detailed to carry the point. where the numbers were so vast as to cover the whole country, that was needless. they marched in columns, and the columns that chanced to come up to the point voluntarily and promptly undertook the duty. they swarmed into the ditch. considine and a small hottentot boy observed the move, and with admirable skill kept the advancing column in check until a fire was kindled in the ditch. it was roused to a pitch of fierce heat that would have satisfied nebuchadnezzar himself, and was then left, for other points of danger in the walls claimed more vigorous attention. onward hopped and crawled the enemy and stormed the fire. the leading files were roasted alive, those following tumbled over their dead bodies into the flames. had the rest wished to take warning by the fate of their comrades—which they did not—they would have found it impossible to escape, for those behind pushed them on. the fire was filled with the dead, overwhelmed by the dying, fairly put out by both, and the victorious army marched over in triumph. then the outhouse met them, but they scorned to turn aside, although there was a four foot wall, which one might have supposed more practicable. they walked straight up the outhouse and over it, and were triumphantly descending the other side in myriads before they were discovered and met, with shrieks of vengeance, by mrs marais.

“it’s of no use, lads,” gasped old marais, pausing for a moment to recover breath; “the place is doomed.”

“don’t say so, father,” cried hans.—“come on, boys! we’ve nearly stopped them at this gate.”

nearly,—but not quite! a few minutes later and the strength of the garrison began to fail.

“how long—has this—lasted?” asked considine, pausing for a moment beside bertha, and panting violently.

“since—breakfast,” gasped the exhausted girl; “we—dis—covered them—just after you—left us.—see! they come!”

“hallo! this way, hans! bring the flags!” shouted considine, observing the tremendous body of reserves which were following up the success of the stormers of the fire.

it is a curious fact that the waving of flags had been found of more avail on that occasion than most other means. the beating of the enemy with bushes and blankets was no doubt very effective, but it killed, scattered, and confused them, so that they pressed, as it were blindly, on their fate, whereas the flag-waving appeared to touch a cord of intelligence. they saw it, were obviously affected though not killed by it, and showed a tendency to turn aside. it was however only a tendency; soon the advance was resumed in force. the human giants were beaten—fairly overwhelmed. the wall was scaled and the garden finally entered by countless myriads of this truly formidable though individually contemptible enemy.

thus are the strong at times confounded by things that are weak!

had these been flying instead of pedestrian locusts they might, perhaps, have been turned aside by fires, for this is sometimes done. when a farmer sees a cloud of them coming—a cloud, it may be, of three miles in length by half a mile in breadth or more—he kindles fires round his garden and fields, raises a dense smoke, and may sometimes, though not often, succeed in preventing them from alighting. but the younger or jumping locusts, strong in the stupidity of youth, cannot be turned aside thus. nothing, indeed, but a rushing stream will stop them; even a mighty river, if not rapid, is insufficient. stagnant pools they cross by drowning the leading multitudes, until a bridge—not “of sighs,” but—of death is formed, of size sufficient to carry them over. they even cross the great orange river thus in places where its flow is calm. in africa they pass in such countless swarms, both winged and wingless, that their approach is viewed with dismay, for where they rest they devour every green thing, and flocks and herds are left utterly destitute, so that starvation or change of ground is unavoidable. they usually begin their march, or flight, after sunrise, and encamp at sunset—and woe betide the luckless farmer on whose lands they chance to fix their temporary abode.

locust-swarms are followed by a little bird—named springkaan-vogel or locust-bird—which comes in such dense flocks as almost to darken the air. these locust-birds are about the size of a swallow, with numerous speckles like a starling. they live exclusively on locusts—follow them, build their nests, rear their young in the midst of them, and devour them. but this is by no means the locust’s only enemy. every animal, domestic and wild, destroys and eats him. cattle, sheep, horses, fowls, dogs, antelopes—all may be seen devouring him with greediness. he even eats himself, the cannibal! for if any of his comrades get hurt or meet with accidents in travelling, as they often do, the nearest fellow-travellers fall on, kill and devour the unfortunates without delay.

the only human beings who rejoice at sight of the terrible locusts are the bushmen. these have neither herds, flocks nor crops to lose, and though the wild animals on which they subsist are by these insects driven away, the bushmen care little, for they delight in fresh locusts, follow them up, feed on them, and preserve quantities by drying them for future use.

before morning the splendid garden of conrad marais was a leafless, fruitless wilderness. not a scrap of green or gold was left. and his case was by no means singular. the whole colony was more or less visited by this plague at that time, and thus the reviving spirits of the settlers were once again knocked down by a crushing blow.

note 1. reverend a.a. dugmore, the reminiscences of an albany settler, page 23.

note 2. the author, having seen the mirage while riding on the karroo, writes from personal experience.