I only wished at the moment the pencil of some artist had been there to have painted the Kafirs in their showy turbans and half-naked bodies, the women with babies on their backs, and the whites of various ranks and conditions, all mixed up with Salvationists.

Among others was a Salvationist old woman, half-caste, who had trudged over the mountain fourteen miles from Somerset East, with a big drum over her shoulders, travelling during the night in order to get a glimpse of The General.

All at once, whilst the people stared, she struck up a lively chorus, leading the singing, and beating the drum most vigorously.

Then followed the choruses: 'No, we never, never, never will give in,' 'Never say die,' and 'Steadily keep advancing,' etc.

I beckoned to her, shook hands with her, wrote her name in a copy of _Aggressive Christianity_ in the presence of the crowd, and gave it to her, all of which was interpreted to her, as she spoke only Dutch.