in the length and breadth of
South Africa outside Cape Town and its suburbs. A great stack of
forage added to the military assets of the locality, and the brigadier
just looked at the water and the lawn, and said, "A land flowing with
milk and honey,--this is where I shall camp. I could not resist
camping in such a spot even if I had old man De Wet dead beat a
furlong from home!" And it was indeed an entrancing spot to the
Karoo-worn warrior. Just one of those delightful oases which do exist,
but which do not abound in Cape Colony. Upon them stand the best and
oldest farms, for when the forebears of the present owners first
struck them, they had no need to good farther afield in search for a
desirable anchorage. If more of these enviable spots had abounded,
even the barbarity of British rule would not have driven the
_voortrekkers_ into wholesale emigration across the soapy waters of
the Orange River.

After the usual worries of settling into camp--mule-drivers leading
animals to water in the drinking reservation, and commanding officers
making themselves disagreeable--there was time to turn one's attention
to the inmates of the roadside mansion. The great whitewashed bungalow
seemed to be alive with inhabitants. The Intelligence officer went
about his business with the air of an expert, and in two minutes the
head of the house, a fine old specimen of the patriarchal Boer, and
his son, a poor slip of a man, were standing before him, hat in hand,
while women-folk of all ages and fulness of costume peeped from every
convenient crevice in the background. The general attitude of the
household was that of humility, in contrast to the usual reception
which the column had experienced in the majority of Karoo farms. And
presently the cause for the deference became apparent. The gaping
children in the main entrance were thrust aside, and a woman of
magnificent proportions pushed in between the two humble men. The old
man mumbled something about his daughter-in-law, while his callow son
looked, if possible, more sheepish than at first. The Intelligence
officer for his part could hardly keep his countenance. The lady had
donned her best. Her ample form was swathed in the rustling folds of a
magnificent silk gown which had evidently been cut in the days of the
crinoline attachment. Her hair, showing signs of the rapidity with
which its present gloss had been applied, was knotted somewhere
adjacent to the neck; and not satisfied wi