My father could no longer bear to live in England after the loss that had fallen on him, and made up his mind to emigrate to South Africa.

We must have been poor at the time--indeed, I believe that a large portion of our income went from my father on my mother's death.

At any rate we travelled with the steerage passengers, and the intense discomfort of the journey with the rough ways of our fellow emigrants still remain upon my mind.

At last it came to an end, and we reached Africa, which I was not to leave again for many, many years.
In those days civilization had not made any great progress in Southern Africa.

My father went up the country and became a missionary among the Kaffirs, near to where the town of Cradock now stands, and here I grew to manhood.