Part 15 (2/2)
”O G.o.d of Bethel! by whose hand Thy people still are fed,”
and followed it with a selection of prayers from the English Liturgy, and a discourse from a volume of sermons.
While they were singing the last Psalm a beautiful antelope, which had wandered down the valley,--all ignorant of the mighty change that had taken place in the prospects of its mountain home,--came suddenly in sight of the party, and stood on the opposite side of the river gazing at them in blank amazement.
Andrew Rivers, who sat meekly singing a fine ba.s.s, chanced to raise his head at the time. Immediately his eyes opened to their full extent, and the fine ba.s.s stopped short, though the mouth did not close. With the irresistible impulse of a true sportsman he half rose, but Sandy Black, who sat near, caught him by the coat-tails and forced him firmly though softly down.
”Whist, man; keep a calm sough!”
The young man, becoming instantly aware of the impropriety of his action, resigned himself to fate and Sandy, and recovered self-possession in time to close the interrupted line with two or three of the deepest notes in the ba.s.s clef.
The innocent antelope continued to listen and gaze its fill, and was finally permitted to retire unmolested into its native jungle.
Note 1. See _Narrative of a Residence in South Africa_, by Thomas Pringle, late Secretary to the Anti-Slavery Society.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
EXPLORATIONS AND HUNTING EXPERIENCES.
Oh, they were happy times, these first days of the infant colony, when every man felt himself to be a real Robinson Crusoe,--with the trifling difference of being cast on heights of the mainland, instead of an islet of the sea, and with the pleasant addition of kindred company!
So rich and lovely was their domain that some of the facetious spirits, in looking about for sites for future dwellings, affected a rollicking indifference to situations that would have been prized by any n.o.bleman in making choice of a spot for a shooting-box.
”Come now, McTavish,” said Considine, on one of their exploring expeditions, ”you are too particular. Yonder is a spot that seems to have been made on purpose for you--a green meadow for the cattle and sheep, when you get 'em; stones scattered here and there, of a shape that will suit admirably for building purposes without quarrying or dressing; a clump of mimosa-trees to shelter your cottage from winds that may blow down the valley, and a gentle green slope to break those that blow up; a superb acacia standing by itself on a ready-made lawn where your front door will be, under which you may have a rustic seat and table to retire to at eventide with Mrs McTavish and lovely young Jessie, to smoke your pipe and sip your tea.”
”Or toddy,” suggested Sandy Black.
”Or toddy,” a.s.sented Considine.
”Besides all this, you have the river making a graceful bend in front of your future drawing-room windows, and a vista of the valley away to the left, with a rocky eminence on the right, whence baboons can descend to rob your future orchard at night, and sit chuckling at you in safety during the day, with a grand background of wooded gorges,--or corries, as you Scotch have it, or kloofs, according to the boers--and a n.o.ble range of snow-clad mountains to complete the picture!”
”Not a bad description for so young a man,” said McTavish, surveying the spot with a critical eye; ”quite in our poetical leader's style. You should go over it again in his hearing, and ask him to throw it into verse.”
”No; I cannot afford to give away the valuable produce of my brain. I will keep and sell it some day in England. But our leader has already forestalled me, I fear. He read to me something last night which he has just composed, and which bears some resemblance to it. Listen:--
”`Now we raise the eye to range O'er prospect wild, grotesque, and strange; Sterile mountains, rough and steep, That bound abrupt the valley deep, Heaving to the clear blue sky Their ribs of granite bare and dry.
And ridges, by the torrents worn, Thinly streaked with scraggy thorn, Which fringes Nature's savage dress, Yet scarce relieves her nakedness.
But where the Vale winds deep below, The landscape hath a warmer glow There the spekboom spreads its bowers Of light green leaves and lilac flowers; And the aloe rears her crimson crest, Like stately queen for gala drest And the bright-blossomed bean-tree shakes Its coral tufts above the brakes, Brilliant as the glancing plumes Of sugar-birds among its blooms, With the deep-green verdure blending In the stream of light descending.'
”Something or other follows, I forget what, and then:--
”`With shattered rocks besprinkled o'er, Behind ascends the mountain h.o.a.r, Where the grin satyr-faced baboon Sits gibbering to the rising moon, Or chides with hoa.r.s.e or angry cry Th'intruder as he wanders by.'
”There--I can't remember the rest of it,” said Considine, ”and I'm not even sure that what I've quoted is correct, but you see Mr Pringle's mind has jumped before mine,--and higher.”
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