done to my house and country, and with the crass assurance of a young
sprig fresh from untrammeled university life, I began to give vent to
utterances that were not at all to the liking of the powers that were.
Soon making myself objectionable, paying no heed to their protests,
and one thing leading to another, my family found it advisable to send
me into utter and complete oblivion. To them I am dead, and all said
and done, I would rather have it so.

After the complete rupture of my home ties, I began some desultory
globe trotting. I knocked about in out-of-the-way corners, where I
observed and absorbed all sorts of things which became very useful in
my subsequent career. A native, and by that I mean an inhabitant, of
non-European countries always fascinated me, and I soon learned the
way of disarming their suspicion and winning their confidence--a
proceeding very difficult to a European. After a time I found myself
in Australia and New Zealand, where I traveled extensively, and came
to like both countries thoroughly. I have never been in the western
part of the United States, but from what I have heard and read I
imagine that the life there more closely resembles the clean, healthy,
outdoor life of the Australians than any other locality.

I was just on the point of beginning extensive travels in the South
Sea Islands, when the situation in South Africa became ominous. War
seemed imminent, and following my usual bent of sticking my nose in
where I was not wanted I made tracks for this potential seat of
trouble. I caught the first steamer for Cape Town landing there a
month before the outbreak of war. On horseback I made my way in easy
stages up to the Rand. Here happened one of those incidents, which,
although small in itself, alters the course of one's life. What took
place when I rode into a small town on the Rand known as Doorn Kloof