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als he was of course attacked； since his action gave them a convenient stick wherewith to beat the Government。 This was to be expected。 What was not to be expected was the lack of； or rather the half…hearted nature of the support which he received from his official superiors。 About this time Lord Carnarvon resigned the Colonial Secretaryship owing to some difference of opinion between himself and his colleagues on other matters； which； in view of the state of South African affairs； many people will think he might have overlooked； and Sir Michael Hicks Beach filled his place。
The next step in the persecution of Sir Bartle Frere was to attack him through his pocket； as Shepstone was afterwards attacked in the same way。 A certain special allowance of 2000 pounds a year； which he had made one of the conditions of his acceptance of office； was publicly withdrawn from him。 This was done by Lord Kimberley； the Liberal Secretary of State for the Colonies in 1880； and as even then Frere would not allow himself to be goaded into resignation over a money matter； a few months later the sacrifice was pleted。 He was recalled with ignominy； no other word seems to meet the case。 He retired to England to die； as thought many of his friends； of a broken heart。 Thus did Britain reward her faithful servant whose greatest crime was an error of judgment； if indeed he really erred； a matter that may well be argued。 Well； he took with him the love and respect of every loyal man in South Africa； and oils are forgotten； his name will shine on serene and untarnished in the sky of history。
To return to my personal reminiscences of this great Governor。 During the year 1877； in an unguarded moment I wrote an article descriptive of my visit to Secocoeni； which was published in an English magazine。 In the course of this article I gave an accurate and lively account of the menage of an ordinary Transvaal Boer； in the course of which I was so foolish as to say that the ladies were； for the most part； plain and stout。 I do not think that I signed the paper； but from internal evidence it was traced back to me； and； needless to say； translated into Dutch by the journals of the Cape Colony。 Then a great hubbub arose； and ultimately； two years later； the matter came to the ears of Sir Bartle Frere。
He sent for me and very rightly reproached me for my indiscretion。 In defence I replied that I had written no word that was not the strict and absolute truth。
“Haggard；” he said in his suave voice； “do you not know that there are occasions on which the truth is the last thing that should be uttered？ I beg you in future to keep it to yourself。”
I bethought me of Talleyrand’s saying that language was given to us to conceal our thoughts； but did not； I think； attempt to cap the argument by its quotation。 In fact； his censure was well deserved。 As St。 Paul teaches us； all things may be lawful； but all things are not expedient； and at this juncture it was certainly inexpedient to make little jokes about the uncountable fleas in Boer bedsteads。
Another noted man who visited us was Mr。 Anthony Trollope； who rushed through South Africa in a post…cart； and； as a result； published his impressions of that country。 My first introduction to him was amusing。 I had been sent away on some mission； I think it was to Rustenberg； and returned to Government House late one night。 On going into the room where I was then sleeping I began to search for matches； and was surprised to hear a gruff voice； proceeding from my bed； asking who the deuce I was。 I gave my name and asked who the deuce the speaker might be。
“Anthony Trollope；” replied the gruff voice； “Anthony Trollope。”
Mr。 Trollope was a man who concealed a kind heart under a somewhat rough manner； such as does not add to the fort of colonial travelling。
I think that my most pleasant recollections of the Transvaal are those connected with my journeys on circuit in pany with Judge Kotze。 Generally we travelled in an ox…waggon from town to town； and employed our leisure as we went in shooting； for at that time parts of the Transvaal veld were still black with game。 Then at night we would sit by our camp fire eating the dinner which I always cooked — for I was very expert at the culinary art — or； if it were wet and cold； in our waggon； where we read Shakespeare to each other till it was time to go to bed。
One such night I remember well； it was on the high veld somewhere in the neighbourhood of Lake Chrissie； where the duck…shooting was magnificent。 We read “Romeo and Juliet” and went to sleep in due course。 At dawn I poked my head between the curtains of the waggon； and in the dense mist that rolled around us saw a great herd of blesbuck feeding all about the waggon。 I woke the Judge； and reaching down our rifles； we opened fire。 He missed his blesbuck but I killed two at one shot； a thing I had never done before。 Truth pels me to add that the Judge claimed one of them； but on that point I was unable to accept his learned decision。
On one of these journeys I nearly came to a bad end。 On a certain morning before breakfast I wounded a bull wildebeest； breaking one of its hind hocks； and mounting a famous hunting horse that I had； named Moresco； started to ride it down。 But that wildebeest would not be ridden down； at least for a very long while。 Being thin； notwithstanding its injury it went like the wind； and finally led me into a vast pany of its fellows： I think there must have been three or four hundred of them。 When once he began to gallop game； Moresco was a horse that could not be held； the only thing to do was to let him have his head。 Into that herd he plunged； keeping his eye fixed upon the wounded beast； which in the end he cut out from among them。
On we went again and got into a great patch of ant…bear holes。 Some he dodged； some he jumped； but at length went up to his chest in one of them； throwing me on to his neck。 Recovering himself with marvellous activity； he literally jerked me back into the saddle with a toss of his head； and we proceeded in our wild career。 The end of it was that at last the bull was ridden to a standstill； but I could not pull up Moresco to get a shot at it。 He went at the beast as though he were going to eat it。 The bull charged us； and Moresco only avoided disaster by sitting down on his tail。 As the beast passed underneath his head I held out my rifle with one hand and pulled the trigger； the bullet went through its heart and it dropped like a stone。 Then I tied my handkerchief to its horn in order to scare away the aasvogel； and rode off to find the camp in order to get assistance。
All that day I rode； but I never found the camp on those vast； rolling plains。 Once towards sunset I thought that I saw the white caps of the waggons five or six miles away。 I rode to them to discover that they were but white stones。 A tremendous thunderstorm came on and wetted me to the skin。 In the gloom the horse put his foot upon a rolling stone that gave me a terrible fall that bruised and nearly knocked the senses out of me。
After lying a while I recovered。 Mounting again； I remembered that when I left the waggons the rising sun had struck me in the face。 So I rode on towards the west until ut