The native stadt covered altogether an area of at least a square mile,
and was full of surprises in the shape of pretty peeps and rural
scenery. Little naked children used to play on the grass, pausing to
stare open-eyed at the passer-by, and men and women sat contentedly
gossiping in front of their huts. The whole gave an impression of
prosperity, of waving trees, green herbage, and running water, and was
totally different to the usual African landscape. To ride or drive
through it on a Sunday was quite a rest, when there was no risk of one's
illusions being dispelled by abominable shells, whose many visible
traces on the sward, in the shape of deep pear-shaped pits, were all the
same in evidence.
Standing in a commanding position among the thatched houses of the
picturesque native stadt was the Mission Church, of quaint shape, and
built of red brick, the foundation of which had been laid by Sir Charles
Warren in 1884. One Sunday afternoon we attended service in this
edifice, and were immensely struck with the devotion of the enormous
congregation of men and women, who all followed the service attentively
in their books. The singing was most fervent, but the sermon a little
tedious, as the clergyman preached in English, and his discourse had to
be divided into short sentences, with a long pause between each, to
enable the black interpreter at his side to translate what he said to
his listeners, who simply hung on his words.
Pages:
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194