I fear the journey of a thousand miles will be one of great
discomfort.[1]

There are many anxious souls in Johannesburg to-night.

Betty and I are sitting up. The night is sultry, and we have dragged
our chairs out on to the verandah which overhangs the street.

MIDNIGHT.--The town has quieted down. Once a wild horseman clattered
down the street towards the 'Gold Fields' shouting, 'A despatch, men!
a despatch. We've licked the Dutchmen!' A few heads peered out of
windows--but that was all.

DECEMBER 31.--My husband came in at 4 o'clock this morning, looking
very tired. He was on the point of going to bed, when a messenger came
from the 'Gold Fields' and hurried him away.

The streets are alive at a very early hour, and the excitement
increases. The Reform Committee sits in perpetual session in the
offices of the 'Gold Fields.' They are appointing sub-committees for
the safeguard and comfort of the town; 51,000_l._ for the relief of
the poor has already been raised. Messengers are sent out to call in
all the women and children from the mines. Arrangements are being made
for the housing and feeding of these. Nothing is forgotten, and
everything goes on with the utmost method and precision. It is like a
great, splendid piece of machinery.

The merchants have sent up a deputation to try to bring the President
to reason. He has temporarily removed the dues from food stuffs as a
result of the interview. The Government has prohibited all telegraphic