systematic neglect--to use a mild word--of colonies and their
inhabitants, which has culminated within our own experience, only,
thanks to a merciful change in public opinion, to pass away for ever.
Sympathy with the Voortrekkers of 1836 is easy; whether it remains so in
the case of their descendants, the present masters of the Transvaal, is
a matter that admits of many opinions. At the least, allowance should
always be made for the susceptibilities of a race that finds its
individuality and national life sinking slowly, but without hope of
resurrection, beneath an invading flood of Anglo-Saxons.

But these are issues of to-day with which this story has little to do.

Without further explanation, then, I hope that you will accept these
pages in memory of past time and friendship, and more especially of the
providential events connected with a night-long ride which once we took
on duty together among the "schanzes" and across the moon-lit paths of
Secocoeni's mountain.

Believe me, my dear Clarke, Your sincere friend, H. Rider Haggard.

To Lieut.-Colonel Sir Marshal Clarke, R.A., K.C.M.G.





SWALLOW