age like the
American prairies, spread out invitingly towards the distant northern
horizon. The exterminating wars among the native tribes had left these
grassy plains almost wholly unoccupied. You might travel over them for
days without meeting a human being, or any traces of human possession,
except here and there the decaying huts and bleaching skeletons of the
former inhabitants. The feeble remnants of these tribes had sought
refuge in the recesses of the neighbouring mountains, where some of
them, in their dire extremity, sustained a horrid existence by
cannibalism, which revolting custom still further diminished their
numbers, and has only recently been suppressed. The Cape 'boers,' or
farmers, rich as the patriarchs of old in cattle and sheep, and
straitened like them for pasture, gradually found their way over the
river into these fruitful and vacant plains. At first, they crossed
only in small numbers, and with no intention of remaining permanently.
But the abolition of slavery, the mismanaged Caffre wars, and some
unpopular measures of the Cape government, suddenly gave a great
impulse to the emigration.

About fifteen years ago, some thousands of Dutch colonists sold their
farms, packed their household gear in their huge capacious wagons,
and with their wives and children--in all, at least 10,000
souls--accompanied by myriads of cattle, sheep, and horses, crossed
the Orange River, and plunged into the vast wilderness beyond. Some
spread themselves over the rich pastures in the country lying
immediately north of that river, and now forming the infant colony
which is presently to be described. Others penetrated far to the
north, forded the Vaal or Yellow River, and planted corn-fields and
vineyards on the fertile slopes of the Kashan Mountains, where they
still maintain themselves as a self-governed and thriving community.
One small band of bold adventurers found their way to the verdant but
fever-haunted plains about Delagoa Bay, whence the few survivors were
presently driven by the destructive ravages of the pestilence. But the
main column of the emigrants, turning to the right, crossed the lofty
chain of the Drakenberg--the 'Rocky Mountains' of Africa--and
descended into the well-watered valleys and woody lowlands of Natal.
The romantic but melancholy story of the sufferings, the labours, the
triumphs, and the reverses which filled up the subsequent years--how
some of the emigrants were surprised and massac