take me.

But at length the dazzling sheen of the diamonds unearthed on the banks
of the distant Vaal, thrilled every one with a desire for adventure.
Before we could realize the process, the caravan crowded road was open
to all; thus one of the ramparts of mystery, had fallen.

We have all become more or less accustomed to diamonds nowadays, but
forty, years ago a diamond stood rather for crystallized romance than
for a form of carbon worth so much per carat. It stood for the making
of history, for empire, and for unbounded wealth. We knew that wars had
been waged for the possession of such gems, that blackest crime nor
oceans of blood could dim their piercing luster. We felt that every
celebrated stone, whether shining on the breast of a lovely woman or
blazing in the scepter of a king, was a symbol of power, a nucleus of
tragedy, a focus of human passion.

It is, therefore, no wonder that the disturbance of our uneventful
South African life a life as simple and as serene as any lived on the
face of the earth caused by the realization that diamonds had actually
been discovered near the borders of the Cape Colony, raised a flood of
wildest excitement. This flood soon swept in a wave of men over the
wide, sun-scorched plains of the glamorous North.

Many of my friends had ventured to the new Golconda, and I was fired
with desire to follow the gleam. At length I met a man who, after much
persuasion, consented to let me accompany him on a contemplated trip to
the Vaal River. This was William Brown, who will be remembered by most
old Kaffrarians. Brown was a farmer of sorts, usually squatting on
Government land, and occasionally occupying a hut on the fringe of the
Isidengi Forest, not far from Kabousie Nek. I had now and then stayed
with him there, and had spent many days wandering with my gun through
the lovely woodland that surrounded his dwelling.

Living in another hut in the vicinity was a very strange character
called "Jarge"; his surname has completely escaped me. Jarge was a very
old man. Hailing originally from Somersetshire, he had never lost the
dialect of his early years. Many an hour have I spent at his saw-pit,
listening to recitals of his fifty-year-old adventures, some of which
were most unedifying. I remember being much amused at an expression he
used. He had met with a large leopard; the animal behaved in a
threatening manner. On being questioned as to his feelings on the
occasion, Jarge replied: "O