hamba which Swart Piet's thieves had stolen, and
they were a very great herd.

For many long and happy years after all these events that I have told
of did Ralph and Suzanne live together, till at last God took my child
Suzanne as she began to grow old. From that day life had no joys for
Ralph, or indeed for any of us, and he fought with the English against
Cetywayo at Isandlhwana, and fell there bravely, he and his son
together, for his son's wife, an English-woman of good blood was dead
also in childbirth.

Then all the world grew dark for Jan and me, but now in my extreme age
once more it lightens like the dawn.

O God, who am I that I should complain? Nay, nay, to Thee, Almighty God,
be praise and thanks and glory. Quite soon I must fall asleep, and how
rich and plentiful is that store which awaits me beyond my sleep; that
store of friends and kindred who have passed me in the race and won the
immortal crown of peace, which even now their dear hands prepare for me.
Therefore to Thee, Maker of the world, be praise and thanks and glory.
Yes, let all things praise Thee as do my aged lips.

NOTE BY THE BARONESS GLENTHIRSK, FORMERLY KNOWN AS SUZANNE KENZIE.

It is something over three years since my great-grandmother, the Vrouw
Suzanne Botmar, finished dictating to me this history of her early days
and of my grandparents, Ralph Kenzie, the English castaway, and Suzanne
Botmar, her daughter. Now, if it be only as an instance of the wonderful
workings of fate, or, as I prefer to call it, of Providence, I add this
note to her narrative. As I write there stretches before me, not the
bushy veldt of Weenen in Natal cut by the silver line of the Tugela,
but a vast prospect of heather-clad mountains, about whose feet brawls
a salmon river. For this is Scotland, and I sit in the castle of
Glenthirsk, while on the terrace beneath my window passes my little son,
who, if he lives, will one day be lord of it. But I will tell the story,
which is indeed a strange one.

As I think my great-grandmother has said, I was educated at a school in
Durban, for, although she was in many ways so prejudiced and narrow, she
wished that I should be able to hold my own with other girls in learning
as in all things. Also she knew well that this would have been the
desire of my dear father, who was killed in the Zulu war with _his_
father, the Ralph Kenzie of the story, whom, by the way, I can remember
as a handsome grey-headed man. For my fa