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n the time es for the collection of the new hut tax； but I don’t believe in it 。 。 。 。
In a letter dated Easter Sunday； 1876； 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。 He was one of the Bishop’s best friends； one who had stood by him when all deserted him。 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 start for a trip up…country in three days’ time； we shall be away until about the 22nd。 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。 “There；” he said； “were collected some five thousand armed warriors in a circle； in the midst of which the witches ＇I should have said the witch…doctors＇ danced。 Everyone was livid with fear； and with reason； for now and again one of these creatures would e crooning up to one of them and touch him； whereupon he was promptly put out of the world by a regiment of the king’s guard。” My friend interfered and nearly had his own neck broken for his trouble。
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。 From him I gathered much information as to Zulu customs and history ade use of in “Nada the Lily” and other books。 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 acpanied 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。 I think that it appeared in the Gentleman’s Magazine。
Among the new…found letters is one that tells of this war…dance。 It is headed Camp； Pagate’s Location； May 13； 1876。
。 。 。 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。 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。 As soon as I had ridden over half a mile it came on to rain “cats and dogs；” and I got ducked through and through。 I turned to make for the houses as best I could through the dark； feeling unmonly cold； when suddenly I stumbled upon a Kaffir ing through the bush。 An angel could not have been more wele。
However there was a drawback。 I knew no Kaffir； he knew no English。 Luckily I did know the Kaffir name of Mr。 Shepstone — “Sompseu” — which is known by every black in South Africa； and managed to make my friend understand that I was travelling with the “Mighty Hunter；” also that there were four waggons。 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 e 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。
Two days ago we went up to Pagate’s kraal。 He is a rather powerful chief under our protection； having some fifteen thousand people。 It is a very good specimen of a chief’s kraal。 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。 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。 The chief’s kraal is at the top and fenced off。
We went into the principal hut and partook of refreshments in the shape of Kaffir beer。
Next morning Pagate gave a war dance； which is one of the most strange and savage sights I ever saw。 It was not very large as they only had a day’s notice to collect the warriors； however some five hundred turned up。
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 acpanied by a little old woman who rushed about shrieking like a wild thing。 He sang the praises of his chief。
“Pagate！ Pagate is ing！ Pagate the son of —— who did ——； the son of —— who did ——；” and so on through some scores of generations。
“Pagate’s soldiers are ing！ Pagate’s soldiers who drink the blood of their enemies； who know how to kill！ Pheasants for whom no other pheasant ever scratched” （i。e。 who could look after themselves）； and so on。
Then he retired。 Presently the warriors arrived in panies singing a sort of solemn chant。 Eac