d an inkling of
what was to happen, but was powerless to control his son, so he confined
himself to addressing the assembled multitude in what I have heard Sir
Theophilus Shepstone say was the most eloquent and touching speech he
ever listened to, the subject being the duties of hospitality. He did
not at the time know how nearly the speech concerned him, or that its
object was to preserve his life. This, however, soon became manifest
when, exception being taken to some breech of etiquette by one of his
servants, he was surrounded by a mob of shouting savages, whose evident
object was to put an end to him and those with him. For two hours he
remained sitting there, expecting that every moment would be his
last, but showing not the slightest emotion, till at length he got an
opportunity of speaking, when he rose and said, "I know that you mean to
kill me; it is an easy thing to do; but I tell you Zulus, that for every
drop of my blood that falls to the ground, a hundred men will come
out of the sea yonder, from the country of which Natal is one of the
cattle-kraals, and will bitterly avenge me." As he spoke he turned
and pointed towards the ocean, and so intense was the excitement that
animated it, that the whole great multitude turned with him and stared
towards the horizon, as though they expected to see the long lines of
avengers creeping across the plains. Silence followed his speech; his
imperturbability and his well-timed address had saved his life. From
that day his name was a power in the land.[*]

[*] A very good description of this scene was published in
the _London Quarterly Review_ in 1878. The following is an
extract:

"In the centre of those infuriated savages he (Mr.
Shepstone) sat for more than two hours outwardly calm,
giving confidence to his solitary European companion by his
own quietness, only once saying, 'Why, Jem, you're afraid,'
and imposing restraint on his native attendants. Then, when
they had shouted, as Cetywayo himself said in our hearing,
'till their throats were so sore that they could shout no
more,' they departed. But Sompseu (Mr. Shepstone) had
conquered. Cetywayo, in describing the scene to us and our
companion on a visit to him a short time afterwards, said,
'Sompseu is a great man: no man but he could have come
through that day alive.' Similar testimony we have had from
some of the Zulu assailants, fr