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ity； but to the training that I had received under those who knew the Zulus better than any other men in the world。
One of these； Mr。 Osborn； who afterwards was appointed Resident in Zululand； was so disturbed by what he knew was ing that； after a good deal of reflection he wrote a solemn warning of what would occur to the troops if their plan of advance was persisted in； which warning he sent to Lord Chelmsford through the officer manding at Pretoria。 It was never even acknowledged。 I think that I saw this letter； or； if I did not not； Osborn told me all about it。
The disaster at Isandhlwana occurred on January 22； 1879。 A night or two before it happened a lady whom I knew in Pretoria dreamed a dream which she detailed to me on the following day。 I am sorry to say that I cannot remember all this dream。 What I recall of it is to the effect that she saw a great plain in Zululand on which English troops were camped。 Snow began to fall on the plain； snow that was blood…red； till it buried it and the troops。 Then the snow melted into rivers of blood。
The lady whom it visited was convinced that this dream portended some frightful massacre； but of course it may have sprung from the excited and fearful feeling in the air which naturally affected all who had relatives or friends at the front。
A stranger and more inexplicable occurrence happened to myself。 On the morning of the 23rd of January； which was the day after the slaughter； I saw the Hottentot vrouw who washed our clothes in the garden of “The Palatial” and went out to speak to her。 The fat old woman was in a great state of perturbation； and when I asked her what was the matter； she told me that terrible things had happened in Zululand； that the “rooibatjes；” that is； redcoats； lay upon the plain “like leaves under the trees in winter；” killed by Cetewayo。 I inquired when the event had occurred； and she replied； on the previous day。 I told her that she was speaking falsehoods； since even if it were so no horse could have brought the news over two hundred miles of veld in the course of a single night。 She stuck to her story but refused to tell me how it had been learned by her； and we parted。
The old woman’s manner impressed me so much that I ordered a horse to be saddled and； riding down to the Government offices； repeated what I had heard to Mr。 Osborn and others。 They too said that it was not possible for the tidings to have e to Pretoria in the time。 Still they were uneasy； thinking that something might have happened at an earlier date； and made inquiries without results。 I believe it was twenty hours later that a man on an exhausted horse galloped into Pretoria with the evil news。
How did the old Hottentot woman learn the truth？ It could not have been called from mountain…top to mountain…top after the Kaffir fashion； since the intervening country was high veld where there are no mountains。 I have no explanation to offer； except that the natives have； or had； some almost telegraphic method of conveying news of important events of which the nature is quite unknown to us white men。
The consternation at Pretoria was very great； especially as the news reached us in a much…exaggerated form。 No wonder that we were perturbed； since there were few who had not lost some that were dear to them。 Thus one of Sir Theophilus’s sons was killed； and for a while he thought that three had gone。 Afterwards his skeleton was recognised by some peculiarity connected with his teeth。 Osborn had lost a son…inlaw； and so on。 Personally I knew many of the officers of the 24th who fell； but the one I mourned most was the gallant Coghill； with whom I had bee very friendly when he was at Pretoria as aide…decamp to Sir Arthur Cunynghame。 He was a peculiarly light…hearted young man full of good stories； some of which I remember to this day。
As the reader will remember； he and Melville died back to back in a vain attempt to save the colours of the regiment； which colours were afterwards recovered from the bed of the river。 I would refer any who are interested in this sad history to “The True Story Book；” published by Messrs。 Longmans in 1893； where I have told the tale of Isandhlwana and Rorke’s Drift。 That account may be taken as accurate； for two reasons： first； I was well acquainted with the circumstances at the time and saw many of those concerned in the matter； and； secondly； I sent the proofs to be checked by my friend Colonel Essex； who was one of the three or four officers in the camp who survived the disaster； as subsequently he did those of Laing’s Nek and Ingogo。
I remember that I asked Essex； a man with a charmed life if ever such a gift was granted； what he thought of during that terrible ride from the Place of the Little Hand to the Buffalo River。 He told me that all he could remember was a kind of refrain which came into his mind。 It ran； “Essex； you —— fool； you had a chance of a good billet at home； and now； Essex； you are going to be killed！” The story has a certain grim humour； also it shows how on desperate occasions； as I have noted more than once in life； the stunned intelligence takes refuge in little things。 Everything else is beaten flat； like the sea beneath a tornado； leaving only such bubbles floating in the unnatural calm。
Not very long after this terrible event Sir Theophilus Shepstone was summoned home to confer with the Colonial Office respecting the affairs of the Transvaal； and well do I remember the sorrow with which we parted from him。 I remember also that before this time； when all was going well； in the course of one of those intimate conversations to which he admitted me I congratulated him upon what then appeared to be his great success； and said that he seemed to have everything before him。
“No； my boy；” he answered； shaking his head sadly； “it has e to me too late in life；” and he turned away with a sigh。
As a matter of fact his success proved to be none at all； for he lived to see all his work undone within a year or two and to find himself thrown an offering to the Moloch of our party system； as did his contemporary； Sir Bartle Frere。 And yet after all was it so？ He did what was right； and he did it well。 The exigencies of our home