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Begin of five-day war between Georgia and Russia. Births on August 8 - Emperor Horikawa of Japan d. Frye, American politician b. Johnson, African-American publisher b. Aug 9 , Bush announces his support for federal funding of limited research on embryonic stem cells.

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Sherwin-White, English historian d. Aug 11 , The Armenians are defeated militarily but are guaranteed freedom to openly practice Christianity. Calvin lives in exile in Strasbourg for the next three years. William Donohue aboard Culpepper wins in 2: G Barbee aboard Jacobus wins in 2: F Littlefield aboard Bowling Brook wins in 2: The rights to the resource are quickly acquired by the United Kingdom. Edmonton Oilers sweep Boston Bruins in 4 games - At 7: The tourism ministry of Nepal confirms this record in July that year.

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The Days of My Life: An Autobiography / H. Rider Haggard

Druid organization Ar Ndraiocht Fein b. Aug 13 , Births on August 13 - Arnulf of Metz, French bishop and saint d. Derujinsky, Russian-American sculptor d. Wells, English writer b. Representative from Mississippi b. Aug 14 , A minute or two later, however, she had long and beautiful hair which flowed all about her. Afterwards either she or the other apparition remarked that she was tired. Thereon her body seemed to shrink, with the result that, as her head remained where it was, the neck elongated enormously, after the fashion of Alice in Wonderland. Then she fell backwards and vanished altogether.

To this day I wonder whether the whole thing was illusion, or, if not, what it can have been. Of one thing I am certain — that spirits, as we understand the term, had nothing to do with the matter. On the other hand I do not believe that it was a case of trickery; rather I am inclined to think that certain forces with which we are at present unacquainted were set loose that produced phenomena which, perhaps, had their real origin in our own minds, but nevertheless were true phenomena.

Sometimes these phenomena were purely physical. The medium, a feeble little man, whose name, I think, was Edwards, arrived and at the door was pounced upon by two of the strongest young men present, who never let go of him until the end of the proceedings. These were various and tumultuous. We sat in the darkened dining-room round the massive table, which presently began to skip like a lamp. Lights floated about the room, and with them a file of Morning Posts which normally reposed in a corner. Cold little hands picked at the studs in our shirts, and the feather fans off the mantelpiece floated to and fro, performing their natural office upon our heated brows.

Norris, whispered to me that he was receiving these attentions. He did so and thrust his fingers through the leather loop of the fan. Then followed a great struggle, for somebody or something located near the ceiling strove to tear it away from him. Norris, and passed me the round and carved ivory handle, which I felt so distinctly that I could have sworn that it was separated from the feather top. When the light was turned on later there before him lay the fan — but unbroken and even unruffled.

This was curious but by no means the cream of the proceedings. We became aware that heavy articles were on the move, and the light showed us that we were not mistaken. There in the centre of the dining-table, piled one upon the other, like Ossa upon Pelion, were the two massive dining-room arm-chairs, and on the top of these, reaching nearly to the ceiling, appeared Mr. How were those massive chairs, which it would have taken two skilled and careful men to lift to that height, passed over our heads without our knowing it and set one upon another?

Even if the medium, who as I have said was held by the two strongest of the sitters, friends of my own who were above suspicion, were free, he could never have lifted those chairs. Even if he had had a confederate they could never have lifted them, and certainly could not have arranged the china upon the top of the pile.

I gave it up then and, after assuring the reader that these things happened exactly as stated, I give it up now. All I can do is to fall back upon my hypothesis that some existent but unknown force was let loose which produced these phenomena. Whatever may be the true explanation, on one point I am quite sure, namely that the whole business is mischievous and to be discouraged.

Bearing in mind its effect upon my own nerves, never would I allow any young person over whom I had control to attend a seance.

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I am well aware that there are many different grades of spiritualism. The name covers such occurrences as I have described and the researches of wise scientists like Sir Oliver Lodge. Lastly, there is an even higher variant of preternatural experience to which it may be applied — I mean that of the communion of the individual soul still resident on earth with other souls that have passed from us; this, too, without the intervention of any medium, but as it were face to face in those surrounding solitudes that, unless we dream — as is possible, for the nerves and the imagination play strange tricks — from time to time they find the strength to travel.

In short, spiritualism should be left to the expert and earnest investigator, or become the secret comfort of such few hearts as can rise now and again beyond the world, making as it were their trial flights towards that place where, as we hope, their rest remaineth.

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To most people that door should remain sealed, for beyond it they will find only what is harmful and unwholesome. Since those days nearly forty years ago I have never attended a seance, nor do I mean ever to do so more. I fell truly and earnestly in love. If all goes well, this, I suppose, is one of the best things that can happen to a young fellow.

It steadies him and gives him an object in life: If all goes ill, it is one of the worst, for then the reverse is apt to come about. It unsteadies him, makes him reckless, and perhaps throws him in the way of undesirable adventures. In my case, in the end all went wrong, or seemed to do so at the time. I was taken by a friend to a ball at Richmond; who gave it I have long forgotten.

There I saw a very beautiful young lady a few years older than myself to whom I was instantly and overwhelmingly attracted. I say beautiful advisedly, for to my mind she was one of the three really lovely women whom I have seen in my life. The second was the late Duchess of Leinster, and the third was a village girl at Bradenham who was reported to be the daughter of a gentleman. She, poor thing, died quite young. At length the ball came to an end and I escorted this lady back to her carriage — she was driving back to London alone — with the intelligent object of ascertaining where she lived.

In this, by the way, I failed; either I did not catch the address or it was too vague and general. It occurred to me that even goddesses must eat. The reason that I mention this matter is that quite a curious coincidence is connected with it. The house where the ball took place had a garden in front, down which garden ran a carpeted path. At the end of the path a great arch had been erected for the occasion, and through this arch I followed the young lady.

Some thirty-five years later I was present at her death-bed — for happily I was able to be of service to her in her later life — and subsequently, with my wife, who had become her friend many years before, was one of the few mourners at her funeral. At the church where this took place it is the custom to carry out coffins through the big western door. As I followed hers the general aspect of the arch of this door reminded me of something, at the moment I could not remember what.

Then it came back to me. It was exactly like that other arch through which I had followed her to her carriage on the night when first we met. Also, strangely different as were the surroundings, there were accessories, floral and other, that were similar in their general effect. How much book knowledge I collected I do not know, nor whether I should have passed for the Foreign Office if I had gone up. But it was not fated that I should do so. In the summer vacation of I went to join my family, whom, in the course of one of his continual expeditions, my father had settled for a while at Tours.

I travelled via Paris, which I found looking almost itself again. On the last occasion that I had visited it the Column Vendome was lying shattered on the ground, the public statues were splashed over with the lead of bullets, and great burnt-out buildings stared at me emptily. I remembered a young Frenchman whom I knew taking me to a spot backed by a high wall where shortly before he had seen, I think he said, Communists executed at once. He told me that the soldiers fired into the moving heap until at length it grew still.

On the wall were the marks of their bullets. At Tours I did not live with my family, but with an old French professor and his wife — I think their name was Demeste — in order that I might pursue my studies of the language. Whilst I was at Tours, making expeditions with the others to see old castles and so forth, my father saw in the Times , or heard otherwise, that Sir Henry Bulwer had been appointed to the Lieutenant—Governorship of Natal.

Now my father was a man of ideas who never lost a chance of finding an opening for one of his sons, and the Bulwers of Heydon in Norfolk were, as it happened, old friends of our family. So he wrote off at once and asked Sir Henry if he would take me with him to Africa on his staff. Sir Henry assented, which was extremely kind of him, as I do not remember that he had ever set eyes on me.

I was anxious that he should read it, for he is an old man, and who knows whether he will be alive when it is published a year or so hence! For Sir Henry Bulwer I have and always shall retain the greatest affection and regard; indeed, he is my beau-ideal of what an English gentleman should be. Also his kindness to me was great. When first I know him some thirty-six years ago, he was about forty, and an extremely able public servant, who had received his training in various Colonial appointments.

He was most painstaking and careful in all his methods, but to me his weak point seemed to be that he always saw so much of both sides of the case that he found it difficult to make up his mind which of them he ought to follow. My farewells were hurried. I find among the few documents that I have preserved of this period one from my mother which is signed by all the members of the family who were at Tours, wishing me good fortune and good-bye. Also — and this is more valuable — there is a copy of some verses which she addressed to me.

These I quote below. Of our voyage to Africa there is little to be said except that in those days it was long. Government House is, or was, a large, quaint old place — I have not seen it from that day to this — which had the reputation of being haunted by a certain Grey Lady who had lived there generations before in the old Dutch days. Since these chapters were written some letters of mind have been found at Bradenham.

From one of these, dealing with my arrival in South Africa, I will quote some passages:. My dear Father, — You will see from the heading of my letter that I have arrived all safe at Cape Town. We have not made a very quick passage, nor yet a very slow one. Among other things we got up a sort of penny reading on board, for which I wrote the Prologue. I also had a good deal of work to do, getting up all the Langalibalele case and extracting the pith from a mass of blue-books.

It is not easy to get at the truth when it is hedged round by such a mass of contradictory evidence. However the whole affair is rather interesting, inasmuch as it gives you an idea of the tremendous state of ferment and excitement the Colony was and still is in. We arrived here early yesterday morning, expecting to find Sir Garnet Wolseley waiting for us, but he has not yet returned from Natal, which is very awkward, as we do not know whether to wait for him or to go on and meet him there.

I am getting on all right, though my position is not an easy one. I find myself responsible for everything, and everybody comes and bothers me. I make a good many blunders, but still I think I get on very well on the whole. I expect I shall have a tremendous lot of work at Natal as the Chief told me that he was going to entertain a good deal, and all that will fall on my shoulders in addition to business.

We are very good friends and shall, I think, continue to be so, as he is not a captious or changeable man. Beaumont, who was secretary to Pine the late Governor of Natal , puts me up to a lot of things; he is an excessively nice fellow and we are great allies. The merchants of Cape Town give a ball tomorrow night to which I am invited. It will be a good opportunity of studying the Cape Town aristocracy. I have just returned from calling on the Bishop. The Barklys have a first-rate four-inhand and we went through a beautiful country, so our drive was a pleasant one.

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I like the Bishop very much. He is a thorough specimen of muscular Christianity. This continual influx of strangers has a very depressing effect. I hope that you are quite well now, my dear Father, and that you do not miss me as much as I do you. I remain, with best love to all, Ever your most affectionate and dutiful son, H.

Where on earth am I to find servants, and who am I to ask about them? Now before we go on to Natal where the real business of my life began, I will stop for a moment to take stock of myself as I was in those days at the age of nineteen. I was a tall young fellow, quite six feet, and slight; blue-eyed, brown-haired, fresh-complexioned, and not at all bad-looking.

Mentally I was impressionable, quick to observe and learn whatever interested me, and could already hold my own in conversation. Also, if necessary, I could make a public speech. I was, however, subject to fits of depression and liable to take views of things too serious and gloomy for my age — failings, I may add, that I have never been able to shake off. Even then I had the habit of looking beneath the surface of characters and events, and of trying to get at their springs and causes. I liked to understand any country or society in which I found myself. I despised those who merely floated on the stream of life and never tried to dive into its depths.

Yet in some ways I think I was rather indolent, that is if the task in hand bored me.

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  • I was ambitious and conscious of certain powers, but wanted to climb the tree of success too quickly — a proceeding that generally results in slips. Further, my eldest sister, Ella Mrs. Maddison Green , informed me only a month or two ago that at this period I was conceited. Possibly I may have been, for I had been living in a very forcing atmosphere where I was made too much of by some of my elders.

    At that time the Durban harbour was not sufficiently dredged to admit sea-going vessels, and I think we had some difficulty in landing. There was a reception committee which presented an address of welcome to the Lieutenant—Governor, and I remember hurriedly copying his answer as the ship rolled off the Point. Sir Garnet Wolseley had been sent to Natal as temporary Governor to settle certain matters connected with its constitution. I think that at that time he had left the Colony himself, though of this I am not quite sure, as I am unable to remember when I first spoke to him.

    In after life I met him on several occasions. Especially do I remember a long talk with him at a dinner-party at the house of the Bischoffheims in London some time in the eighties. He was a small, bright-eyed, quick-brained man who expressed his views upon the public matters of the day with a fierceness and a vigour that were quite astonishing. We sat together at the table after all the other guests had left to join the ladies, and I reflected that he must have had singular confidence in my character to say the things he did to me.

    However, it was justified, for of course I never repeated a word. Of these the one who impressed himself most deeply upon my mind was Butler. He was a most agreeable and sympathetic man, who took the trouble to talk a good deal to me, although I was but a lad. I recall that with much graphic detail he told me the story of how, when he was suffering from fever, he was nearly thrown overboard as a dead man off the West Coast of Africa, where he had been serving in the Ashanti Expedition.

    Recently I have been reading his very interesting and remarkable autobiography, in which I see he describes this incident. He stayed with us at Government House and I remember a curious little incident concerning him. He was leaving Natal and wished to sell a shot-gun which I wished to purchase, though I am not sure whether this was on my account or on that of Sir Henry Bulwer.

    We had a difference of opinion as to the price of the article. Finally I interviewed him one morning when he was taking his bath, and he suggested that we should settle the matter by tossing. This I did with a half-sovereign, he giving the call, but who won I forget. Of my last tragic meeting with poor Colley at the time of the first Boer War I may speak later in this book.

    After a short stay at Durban we proceeded to Maritzburg, the seat of government, in some kind of a horse conveyance, as, except for a short time on the coast, there was then no railway in Natal. In those days it was a charming town of the ordinary Dutch character, with wide streets bordered by sluits of running water and planted with gum trees.

    Of the year or so that I spent in Natal I have not much to say that is worthy of record. The country impressed me enormously. Indeed, on the whole I think it the most beautiful of any that I have seen in the world, parts of Mexico alone excepted. The great plains rising by steps to the Quathlamba or Drakensberg Mountains, the sparkling torrential rivers, the sweeping thunderstorms, the grass-fires creeping over the veld at night like snakes of living flame, the glorious aspect of the heavens, now of a spotless blue, now charged with the splendid and many-coloured lights of sunset, and now sparkling with a myriad stars; the wine-like taste of the air upon the plains, the beautiful flowers in the bush-clad kloofs or on the black veld in spring — all these things impressed me, so much that were I to live a thousand years I never should forget them.

    Then there were the Zulu Kaffirs living in their kraals filled with round beehive-like huts, bronze-coloured, noble-looking men and women clad only in their moochas , whose herds of cattle wandered hither and thither in charge of a little lad.

    From the beginning I was attracted to these Zulus, and soon began to study their character and their history. My dearest Mother, —. You will by this time have got my letters from Durban and the Cape. We left Durban at 10 A. There were five of us, the Chief, Mr. Some of the scenery was very fine, but we were so choked by the dust, which was so thick that you could not see the road beneath you, that we did not much enjoy it. Our guard of honour did not improve matters. When we got near Maritzburg crowds of people rode out to meet us, and we entered in grand style amidst loud hurrahs.

    Then all the grandees of Maritzburg came forward and paid their respects to the Governor, and at last we were left alone to clean ourselves as best we could. The Government House is a very pretty building, not nearly so large as the Cape Government House, but far from small.

    I, who have to look after it, find it too large. I have a large bedroom upstairs and my office in the Executive Council chamber. The day after we arrived the swearing-in ceremony was held, in a room where the Legislative Council sit in the Public Offices building. It was a very swell ceremony indeed, and I had to go through an extraordinary amount of scraping and bowing, presenting and pocketing, or trying to pocket, enormous addresses, commissions, etc.

    After it followed a levee, which tried my patience considerably, for these people came so thick and fast that I had no time to decipher their, for the most part, infamously written cards, so I had to shout out their names at haphazard. However, that came to an end too at last, and we drove off amidst loud hurrahs. I am at last clear on one point: I am not private secretary. The Chief was talking the other night to Beaumont about me and told him he had a very good opinion of me and thought I should do very well, but that he had always intended to have an older man to help him at first , though who it is going to be does not seem clear.

    He wants somebody who can go and talk to all these people as a man of their own standing, which I cannot do. He also wants someone who has some experience of this sort of work. I am not in the least disappointed; indeed now that I see something of the place, and of the turbulent character of its inhabitants, I should have much wondered if he had made a fellow young as I am private secretary.

    Putting the money out of the question I would infinitely rather be rid of the responsibility, at any rate at present. I am sorry, very sorry, still to be dependent on my father, but you may be sure, my dear Mother, that I will be as moderate as I can. At any rate I shall cost less than if I had been at home. I know him to be a man of his word, therefore I am pretty well convinced that I shall be his private secretary sooner or later. I continue to get on very well with him, indeed we are the best of friends, and I have many friendly jaws with him.

    I should rather like to know who No. Of work I have plenty here, but my chief trouble is my housekeeping. I have all this large house entirely under me, and being new to it find it difficult work. Dinner days are black Mondays to me. Imagine my dismay the other day when the fish did not appear and when, on whispering a furious inquiry, I was told the cook had forgotten it! Servants are very difficult to get here, and one has to pay 5 pounds a month at the lowest. The next surviving letter is dated February 14, It gives an account of a buck hunt which is perhaps worth transcribing.

    To begin with, I am getting on all right and have quite got over all signs of liver since I got a horse. This place, if only you take exercise, is as healthy as England, but exercise is a sina qua non. The owner of it, a very good fellow, is one of the few people who preserve their buck. The way you shoot is this: Sometimes you run them as I did, but it wants a very swift horse. I had dropped a little behind the others, when in galloping up to join them my horse put its foot into a hole and came to the ground, sending me and my loaded gun on to my head some five or six yards further on.

    I had hardly come to my senses and caught my horse when I saw an oribe pass like a flash of light, taking great bounds. I turned and went away after him, and I must say I never had a more exciting ride in my life. Away we went like the wind, over hill and down dale, and very dangerous work it was, for being all through long grass the holes were hidden. Every now and then I felt my horse give a violent shy or a bound, and then I knew we had nearly got into some bottomless pit; if we had, going at that rate the horse would most likely have broken his legs or I my neck.

    And so on for about two miles, I gaining very slowly, but still gaining on the buck, when suddenly down he popped into a bush. It is curious how rarely one does the right thing at the right time. Instead of getting off and walking him up, I sent one barrel into the bush after him and gave him the other as he rose. By this means I hit him very hard but did not kill him. However, I made sure of him and struck the spurs into my horse to catch him.

    To my surprise he only gave a jump, and I found myself embedded in a bog whilst my wounded buck slowly vanished over a rise. I went back in a sweet temper, as you may imagine. We also hunt with hounds, and get very good runs sometimes. I very nearly lost my watch and chain in one the other day.

    I was tearing along at full gallop through the long grass when I thought I felt an extra weight at the end of my whip which was resting on the pommel of my saddle. I looked down and saw my watch and chain hanging to it. It was what one may call a lucky escape. There is little news here of any sort. It is evidently thought in England that Froude made a fiasco of his mission, but I believe it was more the fault of the Home Government than his own.

    In a letter dated Easter Sunday, , there are some allusions to Bishop Colenso and to the Zulu customs of the day which may be of interest. There is but little news to tell, none indeed with the exception of the tragedy I mentioned in my letter to my father. Colenso preached a funeral sermon on him this morning, by far the finest I ever heard him preach. The Bishop quite broke down. I was sitting under him; all the last part of the sermon he was literally sobbing. It was touching to see stern-faced Colenso, whom nothing can move, so broken. He is a very strange man, but one you cannot but admire, with his intellect written on his face.

    I dare say that my father has met him in Norfolk, where he was a rector; he recognized my name the first time I saw him. We are going to explore Weenen or the Land of Weeping, so-called from the weeping of the women and children left alive after the great massacre of the Dutch. I saw a curious sight the other day, a witch dance. I cannot attempt to describe it, it is a weird sort of thing. The Chief Interpreter of the Colony told me that he was in Zululand some years ago and saw one of these witch-findings. The Chief Interpreter alluded to must have been my friend Fynney, now long dead, who was afterwards my colleague on the staff of Sir Theophilus Shepstone.

    There the reader may find a true account of the doings of these awful witch-doctors. Often I have wondered whether they are merely frauds or whether they do possess, at any rate in certain instances, some share of occult power. Certainly I have known them do the strangest things, especially in the way of discovering lost cattle or other property.

    On the occasion of which I speak in the letter I remember that the doctoress soon discovered an article I thought was gone for ever. I accompanied Sir Henry on a tour he made up-country and there saw a great war-dance which was organised in his honour. I mention this because the first thing I ever wrote for publication was a description of this dance.

    Among the new-found letters is one that tells of this war-dance. We have since my last letter home been trekking steadily on through the country in much the same way, except that we have left the plains and entered the mountainous bush-land, which, though the roads are terrible, is much pleasanter to travel through as it is more varied. Also you can make dives into the bush in search of a little shooting, though it is very necessary to take your bearings first. I neglected to do this the other day, and when I had been off the road five minutes I found I was utterly unable to find it again.

    When once you have lost your general direction you are done for. I wandered on and on till at length I saw three pretty, rustic-looking houses on a hill a couple of miles off, for which I was not sorry, for the evening was very gloomy and a cold east wind was driving down clouds and mists from the hill. Thither I and my tired horse and dogs clambered as best we could, now over masses of boulders, now through deep water-courses, till at last we came to the neighbourhood of the first house, just as night was setting in.

    As I approached I was struck by the stillness of the place, and drawing nearer yet I saw that brambles and thorns were mixed with the peaches and pomegranates of the garden, and that the fruit had not been plucked, but eaten away by birds; then I observed that the front door had fallen from its hinges. I rode in and found the place a picture of melancholy desertion. I went on to the next house and found it in the same condition, and the next to that also.

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    I was now pretty well done, but as the prospect of sleeping in the bush or a deserted house was not pleasant I determined to make one more shot for the road. I turned to make for the houses as best I could through the dark, feeling uncommonly cold, when suddenly I stumbled upon a Kaffir coming through the bush. An angel could not have been more welcome.

    However there was a drawback. I knew no Kaffir, he knew no English. Luckily I did know the Kaffir name of Mr. Now he had not seen these but had heard that they were in the neighbourhood, so following his unerring instinct he at once struck out for the high road from which I had wandered some five miles. Arrived there, he managed by the glimmer of the stars to find the track of the waggons, and having satisfied himself that they had passed, struck away again into the most awful places where anything but the Basuto pony I was riding must have come to grief.

    On we went for about eight miles till I began to think my friend was knocking under to the cold a very little cold kills them and making for his own kraal. However, to my astonishment he hit the track again and at length came safely to the waggons. I was not sorry to see them. I found the Governor in a dreadful state of alarm. He is a rather powerful chief under our protection, having some fifteen thousand people. It stands on a high promontory that juts out and divides two enormous valleys at the bottom of one of which runs the Mooi River. The view is superb; two thousand feet below lies the plain encircled by tremendous hills bush-clad to the very top, while at the bottom flashes a streak of silver which is the river.

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    There is little of what we admire in views in England, but Nature in her wild and rugged grandeur. His kraal is curious. In extent it covers about ten acres. First there is the outer fence, inside of which are the huts, and then a stronger inner one to hold the cattle in times of danger.

    Next morning Pagate gave a war dance, which is one of the most strange and savage sights I ever saw. The dance was held in front of our camp. First arrived a warrior herald dressed in his war-plumage, ox-tails round the shoulders and middle, a circlet of some long white hair round the right knee, a circlet round the head from which arose a solitary plume of the Kaffir crane; in one hand the large white ox-hide shield and in the other his assegais, which however were represented by long sticks, assegais not being allowed at these affairs.

    This gentleman was accompanied by a little old woman who rushed about shrieking like a wild thing. He sang the praises of his chief. Presently the warriors arrived in companies singing a sort of solemn chant. Each man was dressed in his fierce, fantastic war-dress. One half wore heron plumes, the rest long black plumes; each company had a leader and a separate pattern of shield. They formed themselves into a half-square looking very fierce and imposing.

    Each company as it arrived caught up the solemn war-chant, which was sung in perfect time and was the most impressive thing I ever heard. As the chief came up attended by his bodyguard it grew louder and louder, till it swelled to a regular paean, when the old man, fired with martial ardour, flung off the attendants who supported him, and forgetting his age and weakness ran to the head of his warriors.

    I shall never forget the sight. The Governor drew near and was met with the royal salute accorded only to Cetewayo, Mr. The dance then commenced and was a wonderful performance. Company after company charged past looking for all the world like great fierce birds swooping on their prey. Assegais extended and shields on high, they flitted backwards and forwards, accompanying every moment with a shrill hiss something like the noise which thousands of angry snakes would make, only shriller, a sound impossible to describe but not easy to forget.

    Then forth leaped warrior after warrior: By this time they were well excited; even the little boys of the tribe had got shields and joined themselves on at the end, while the beauties, and some of them were not unworthy of the name, took hold of long branches and went undulating about the only word to describe their motion urging the warriors on. Presently forth sprang the heir-apparent, and in a moment the air was filled with this fierce sibilation and every warrior roused into wild activity. It was a splendidly barbaric sight.

    The singing was the finest part of it. The last royal salute was also imposing; it is made by striking the assegais on the shield. It commences with a low murmur like that of the sea, growing louder and louder till it sounds like far-off thunder, and ending with a quick sharp rattle. I stopped three days in Durban and enjoyed the change very much, as it was the first holiday I have had with the exception of a week when I was sick.

    There is somewhat stirring news from the Transvaal telling of the first skirmish between the Boers and Secocoeni, a native chief of very considerable power. If the Boers have to deal with him alone they will be all right, though there will very likely be a good deal of bloodshed. But Secocoeni is a tributary of and allied to Cetewayo the Zulu king, who has of late been on the worst of terms with the Boers, so that it is more than probable that he and his thirty thousand armed men supposed to be hovering like a thunder-cloud on the borders of Natal, will take an opportunity to have a shot at them too: A number of historically significant biographical files were probably missed, as time for selection of files was limited.

    HASF staff then selected another group of prints, and integrated them into the collection. The remainder were then destroyed. Related artifacts are in HistoryMiami's objects collection. Newspapers of America's Last Frontier. In Tequesta , no. Includes a history of the newspaper from its founding to Short articles illustrated with photographs from the Miami News photographs collection.

    Miami News Collection, HistoryMiami, [control number]. Most prints are black-and-white, 8 x 10 inches, but a substantial number are 11 x 14 inches.